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Earlier, Alec had mentioned that he was inviting a friend over. The indication of the way he said friend was 'someone I like so please don't scare the shit out of him before I can get to know him
better'.

As there was noise coming from his room, clearly the friend was now visiting.

The noise was mostly the aimless strumming of a guitar, followed suddenly by Alec snorting and giggling and several sour notes were hit.

"Stop that! It's tickles," he says.

In Russian.

"Only if you stop having such adorable toes, Sasha," someone else says.

Also in Russian.

His door is locked. He's learned his lesson.

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Oh God. Just, oh God. Or oh non-existent deity.

"Well, yes. I mean, but... why all of a sudden?"

"Because I'm intrigued by the fellow. Is that so wrong?"

"It worries me. That's all."

He's never shown much of an interest in any of his previous boyfriends. Beyond traumatizing and throwing them out.

"Why? Do you imagine I'll be impolite?"

It's a fair thing to imagine.

"You'll be sarcastic and condescending."

Impolite is fine. He can handle impolite. It's the other stuff he worries about. And then when he starts getting carried away with politics...

"You can't be certain of that. I'm perfectly capable of reasonable discussions."

He changes tact a bit. "I'm surprised you like him... or at least find him interesting. I mean... you never seem to like anyone who's from Russia, willingly speaks Russian and calls me Sasha."

Yes, he is trying to get Andrew to leave Henri alone.

"I found him interesting. I want to know what he's telling you."

So partially it's an attempt to get into Henri's head, to make sure he's not warping Alec's thoughts.

"That I have cute toes." He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Bayta, I swear we haven't talk a bit about philosophy or politics or economics beyond how I'm going to pay for school. Since I won't take government loans."

"Sasha," Andrew said, mimicking Alec's tone of voice fairly accurately, "First you want me to take interest in your life, and then, when it doesn't suit you, you want me to ignore the people you're spending time with. You can't have it both ways. Either have him come to dinner with us, or tell me to butt out entirely."

Alec looks up at him at being called Sasha and there's a mixed expression on his face. It's surprise, hurt and a bit of wistfulness.

"I need to stop calling you bayta. It just makes you crankier." There's a bit of mournfulness in his voice. "I don't even know why I do. Probably too much Russian with Henri."

Then he adds, "And yes. Fine. I'll invite Henri to dinner."

"You can call me whatever you want, Alec. I've never indicated a preference one way or the other. You have free will, after all. I expect you to use it."

He's not understanding at all that this could be an emotional issue for Alec. It's hard for him to understand any emotional issue, generally, so he tends to take things at face value, and is genuinely confused as to why Alec would think a word makes him cranky.

"Except that you're not my father, right?"

Because it always seems to drop Andrew into hard sarcasm and mocking mode.

"No, I'm not your father. You had a father, and I would never dream of taking the place of someone who meant so much to you. I am your guardian, and your adoptive father, and you may call me as you wish. I thought that had been established."

And now Alec puts his head in his hands as he tries to suss out how to explain this.

"But do you want to be seen as my father?"

"I want to be seen as your caretaker, yes. And I am the closest thing you have to a father, now that yours is dead."

Say what you will about Andrew -- he doesn't mince words.

"Caretakers aren't fathers. You're the only thing I have as a father. You've been a father to me about as long, if not a bit more than my..." he hesitates here.

He's not sure if he should say real one or not because they were both real to him.

"Do you want me to replace him, then? To be the person you refer to as your father, when you talk about me, without explanation? I know that your real father will always be first, that you'll always say that I'm the man who adopted you, that I'm not biologically related to you. Why should I want to be your father, when I'll never live up to the standard?"

He doesn't sound angry or hurt about it. Just confused.

"You don't have to worry about living up to the standard. You already do. You were who my father wanted to be like. He wanted me to be like you," he says.

This is hard for him to explain because he's not really sure of it all. "I'm more afraid of not living up to your standards than you meeting mine."

"My standards?"

Andrew actually looks baffled by this. "My only standards involve you doing something you're good at, and sticking to it. Being a hard worker, being ambitious, not giving up. Not letting yourself become someone who uses the system. Not letting other people use you."

"That's a lot harder to do than it sounds," he says.

"I know," Andrew says, "That's why it's my job to guide you. I don't expect you to do everything at once. How could you? Everyone fails the first time they try something."

"Just like my father would have done."

A sigh.

"Fine. Like your father would have done."

"Or he would have swatted me about the ear for being lazy," Alec adds, trying to shift the mood a little.