It's late-late. Almost three in the morning when Keye stumbles in the door, rumpled and smelling of smoke and liquor. The only reason he's home at all is that he began to feel somewhat nauseous and wasn't up for passing out on the mercy of strangers.
Three in the morning, buzzed, and he was already in the refrigerator looking for some beer or wine or something. After all, he's completely fine with passing out at home.
His hair sticks up at odd angles, he's grimy, and the alcohol has messed with his already-impaired motor skills to the point where he actually misses the handle of the fridge at first.

Uh oh.

Alexander is awake only because Keye hasn't been home this late in quite some time. He hears noises and comes out of his bedroom, dressed in his bathrobe.

Light from the kitchen.

So he goes there.

"... what in the world is wrong with you, Keye?"

... he's not drunk. Please, he's not drunk.

... he's drunk.

"Nothin'."
Now, he's not shitfaced yet, though he's getting there. He's still coherent. There's only the vaguest hint of thickness to his tongue. Really, it's a subtle impression of wrongness that gives it away. That and the fact that his hand-eye coordination is almost completely gone.
"Why aren't you asleep?"

"You weren't home yet. Why aren't you asleep?"

Dammit, Keye, Alexander was worried about you. Why are you doing this to him again?

Grr.

"What have you been doing?"

"Wasn't sleepy."
He shrugs and keeps digging clumsily in the refrigerator.
"I went out. I went dancing."
...among other things.

Sigh.

"Couldn't you have told me where you were going first? I worry about you, son..."

It upsets him when he doesn't know what's going on. He's... a control freak. Just a bit.

"What are you looking for?"

"Forgot."
Also, he has a feeling that 'Hey dad, I'm going out looking for a one-night stand, be back later' wouldn't fly.
"I dunno, something to..."
Drink. Luckily that hit his hazed mind before it left his mouth.
"...eat."

"What would you like, then? Let me get it for you."

Alexander would have been... uncomfortable, but he wouldn't have stopped Keye. Probably he would have said something about 'be careful.'

"How can I help you remember things like that?"

"Nothing." he shuts the fridge door suddenly. "I'm sick."
And then he sits down in the middle of the kitchen floor.
"I dunno."

Sigh.

"Think, Keye. Please?"

He really doesn't like being left to worry all night.

He doesn't want to think. Can't think. He's drunk.
"Pin a note to my shirt?"
He's not even really trying. He chuckles softly to himself, though it wasn't terribly funny.

"I sometimes wonder if you can read."

... ouch.

Sorry, Keye, Alex without much sleep is a very snappy Alex.

It takes a minute for the incredulous, hurt expression to settle on his features. Alex knows he has a problem with reading, and has always been very understanding and helpful about it. Keye just can't fathom this.
"Fuck you!" he sputters finally.

Well, obviously, Keye doesn't care about Alexander's opinions and worries, or he wouldn't do this anymore. He has been asked not to worry his 'father' before now, you know.

"Yes, well, I'm sure dancing wasn't the only thing you were doing."

Keye smells of alcohol.

Hmph.

"And what if it wasn't?" he growls, a challenge in his voice. His motor skills may be impaired, but his inhibitions are also lowered--he could probably still manage to punch Alexander in the face, if he really wanted to.

"None of my business what you were doing. You're a legal adult, but I would like to know. Too many times when you've disappeared, I find out you've been injured."

... he has a point.

"Dammit, Keye, do you think I like wondering if you're going to come home in one piece?"

"I'm not injured! I know what I'm doing!"
He just doesn't know why.
He's shaking now, his eyes locked on the floor, almost as if Alexander would know all of it if he looked at him.
"I'm fine."

"Well, I don't. What were you doing?"

If he yells at you, he loves you.

... actually, that's not strictly true. He yells at a lot of his students, in a very snarky, cruel sort of way that makes them want to cry and run away and change professors. Let me rephrase.

If he yells at you and his voice is strained and he might have tears in his eyes, he loves you.

"I went dancing, I told you!"
If he yells back, he loves you too.
...well, not always. But when he's yelling back because he doesn't want to say, because he doesn't want you to be ashamed of him, he loves you too.

Alexander just looks at him.

'And what if it wasn't?' implies that Alexander was on the right track. It implies that Keye was doing something more than just dancing, and his refusal to explain is making Alexander tense.

"What. Else?"

"Why's it matter?" There's a note of desperation in his voice. This time, he really doesn't want to tell Alexander. "I'm not hurt!"

"No, but you smell like alcohol and you're shouting at me as if you have something to hide. What. Did. You. Do?"

Argh.

Keye is frustrating.

"I had a drink!"
He's still shouting, so that obviously isn't all.

"Don't you dare lie to me. What else did you do?"

... hypocrite. He gets all offended and upset when he thinks Keye is lying, and yet he lies to everyone, including Keye, constantly.

Such a hypocrite.

"None of your fucking business."
Keye will hit him. Or try to. Anything rather than telling Alexander what he actually did.

"You're living under my roof. I have a right to know what you're doing with yourself."

... I never thought he'd play that card, did you?

"Do not lie to me."

"I'm not lying."
He's just not telling all of the truth. So there.

"Then tell me the whole truth."

It is making him very unhappy. Look at him be unhappy. Keye, you're making Alexander unhappy, don't you want to stop?

Keye looks helpless, frightened, and slightly greenish.
He thinks that if he told Alexander, it would just make him unhappier. There seem to be no solutions.
"No."

"Why. The hell. Not?"

... Alexander would be more unhappy, but he would be worried and trying to comfort and console, rather than angry and upset and offended.

That might not be better, though.

"Because it's not your business."
The faint greenish color of nausea and the red of embarrassment don't go well together at all.
"I ca--won't."

"Fine."

Alexander throws up his hands and turns away.

"Don't trust me, then."

... emotional blackmail, anyone?

Keye snorts, an ugly look in his eye. He doesn't have to take this.
"You don't trust me. Why should I trust you? I swear to god, say one more stupid shitfaced thing and I'll--I--"
He doesn't know what he'll do, but he'll sure as hell do something.

"You'll what?"

Alexander turns back.

"Give me a reason to regret taking you in? Give me another black eye? Curse me?"

He laughs. It's an angry, low, ugly laugh.

"You can't do anything to me, Keye."

I'm stronger, older, more powerful than you.

"You regret that, huh?" it's not often that Keye gets that icy tone to his voice.
"Fine. I can't do anything to you. I won't try. Won't bother. Hell, I'll fucking improve your life."
He stands up, brushes past Alexander, and walks out.

... oh shit.

"Keye!"

If Keye can get out of the apartment with the sudden shield between him and the door, I shall be impressed by his magical prowess.

"That is not what I meant."

He turns, frowning at Alexander and holding his nose, which he whacked on the barrier.
"Liar."

"I did not say I regretted taking you in. I asked if you were going to give me a reason to. I just want to know what you've been doing, where you've been."

Don't you dare leave me, boy. You are my son, and I won't give you up.

... yes, that level of obsession is quite scary.

"You implied that I already had. There's that fucking vocabulary, by the way."
The urge to hit Alexander is gone, replaced by the urge to spit in his face.

"If the implication was there, it was not intentional."

He's not shaking with fear that Keye will leave him, or rage that the boy dares to consider it, but he's getting closer every moment.

"Keye, just tell me where you were. Please."