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Strained

The clatter of cutlery against plate sounded, bringing the idle chatter around the dinner table to a halt. "Whacha looking at, Kurt?"

"Nuffin," the bulky, mud brown coyote mumbled from the seat opposite, smiling mischievously.

"Then stop smirking at me."

"I ain't!"

"You have been for the last five minutes. Quit it!"

"Hey, chill out, Warren."

"Whatever." He snatched up his fork, jabbing it at the last sauce-covered meatball on his plate. In his annoyance, Warren succeeded in shovelling it up towards his mouth far too quickly, practically throwing the rich, red ball of meat against the white fur of his muzzle and throat before it splattered his pale yellow shirt.

A riotous snort followed right after. "Need some help there, short stuff?"

"Kurt," their father growled, stabbing his dark brown paw across the table. "Leave him alone."

"I'm not--"

"We know you're excited for your game," their mother added sternly, "but that's no excuse to torment your brother."

"Alright, alright... sorry."

Their three grey muzzles turned in unison, facing the youngest 'yote as he tried hopelessly to wipe away the stains of red with a cloth. In his haste, Warren caught a claw on the silver chain emerging from deep in the light, golden fur of his neck. He gasped instinctively, clutching it tight with an anxious paw.

"It's still there, honey. Don't worry."

"Thanks, Mom." He looked down to the idle spaghetti strands scattering his plate, the sauce smattering it as red as he imagined his cheeks had become. "May I please be excused?"

"You may," his mother replied, patting his slight arm with her own dark-furred paw.

Warren slipped off his chair, practically having to stand on tiptoe to deposit his dish into the kitchen sink before slinking out into the hallway.

"Hey, Bro," Kurt's voice boomed from behind. "If you're headin' upstairs, get the game ready! I'll be up in a lil' bit."

"Great," he groaned quietly, feeling a lot less excited than his brother for the game about to follow.

In the quiet of his room, Warren could reflect on the conversation over dinner. He grasped his neck chain all over again, rubbing it slowly with a black-flecked, sandy-furred paw while sprawled out atop his bed.

"I don't wanna take this thing off tonight." He focused in on the sparkling bands of silver, knowing just how important such a seemingly simple piece of jewelry was to a Requoran like himself. "But then, I s'pose I shouldn't upset the apple cart too much."

In his younger years, Warren would've had no qualms in removing his cloaker around the house. He'd have spent hours playing with his big brother, joking and enjoying his company to the fullest.

"It's just... things aren't so fun anymore. Not like when we were cubs." He groaned loudly, rolling onto his front. "Maybe I should tell Mom and Dad? Maybe they can talk to him?"

That thought brought with it a trip back to the past; a recollection of the grim, grey adoption centre he'd spent most of his first five years within. Even now, a decade on, he could remember the threadbare clothes, the overcrowded bedroom and the ironic, crippling loneliness that came with it. Still, one day shone brightly at the end of the greyness; the day that a loving family of Neotrian coyotes came to whisk him away from that horrid place.

The smile that memory brought soon soured, followed near instantly by the recollection of what his brother used to say on the rare occasions they fell out as youngsters.

"I can make Mom and Dad take you back to that place, y'know. I can tell them things and they'll believe me, not you. I'm their real son. You're just a Requoran."

Of course, Warren knew that threat to be the far-fetched fantasy of a kid who knew not what he said. Regardless, that memory had remained, lingered, uniting with the knowledge that very few Requoran orphans were lucky enough to find a good home to grow up in. He knew it to be stupid; to be a fear based on absurdity, yet he truly did feel a wariness over doing anything that might upset his adopted family, even now as a teenager.

The door to his bedroom flung open, revealing Kurt standing there, almost filling the opening with his wide, six-foot frame. "Hey, what gives!?" he roared, gesturing to the blank screen of the television in the far corner. "What about the game?"

"I... I dunno. I just wanted a lie down in peace, I guess."

"It's the biggest game of the season!" He stormed his way in, grabbing up the remote to switch on the set and flick straight to the sports station. "We need a win if we're gonna stand a chance at making the playoffs this year!"

"Ain't you got a big, widescreen TV set up in your room?" Warren shifted to sit up with a loud grumble. "Go watch it in there if you wanna see it so much."

Kurt simply folded his arms, his strong biceps visible through the fabric of his white t-shirt. "Yeah, I could... but then, I'd not be able to do this." He pushed the door closed behind him, rushing across the room to leap upon his brother's bed.

"Hey--!" Warren suddenly found himself pinned firm, barely able to breathe beneath the weight now thrust upon him. "Get... off!"

"Make me," Kurt snickered back, pushing his shoulders down to the bedcovers. "So, how we gonna do this today?"

"Like it matters. Chase me, wrestle, or play-fight: it all ends up with me losing my cloaker and getting pinned."

"Oh, you love it."

"I did," Warren squeaked, squirming in vain.

"What ya mean 'did'?"

"I mean--" He rumbled a groan, arms beginning to hurt from the pressure crushing down upon them. "You're seventeen, now.

"And you're fifteen, so?"

"That's not the point!" Warren lashed about, but still couldn't free his slender frame from beneath his brother's. "The point is you're a lot bigger than back then. You've got nearly a full foot on me now, and you're a damn sight stronger than you were when we were cubs."

Kurt grinned, flexing a bicep; a great deal thicker than it had been even a year ago. "Hey, s'just a perk of gettin' a spot on the high-school football team."

"Damn it, get over yourself," Warren moaned, grabbing his brother's wrist with both paws in an attempt to get free. "For once, just listen to what I gotta say! I don't wanna play--"

"Oh, that's a big mistake, short stuff." With an easy path left open to him, Kurt grabbed a hold of and unhooked his brother's chain in one swift movement of his free paw.

"No--!"

Warren wrenched his eyes shut, gritting his teeth and doing all he could to block out the spinning, blurring room around him. He found his arms free, using them to grasp at his queasy, bubbling stomach.

"Aw, damn. What happened there, _little_guy?"

"You know what, Kurt!" He threw his paws to his ears, squirming at the bone-rattling voice booming from above. "And stop shouting!"

"Squeak, squeak," his brother chided in response, the dark brown of his massively thick arms rising up towards the ceiling high above. They met at Kurt's sky-filling chest, his dusty grey muzzle peering down with a delighted smirk. "Could be worse; at least those cloaker things grow and shrink your clothes along with the rest of ya."

"I told you didn't wanna do this!" Warren growled, left helpless atop the deep blue bedsheets at his natural height of around three inches. "Where's my cloaker!?"

The mattress shifted wildly, his far bigger brother reaching over to drop his silver chain, his cloaker, onto the desk beside the bed. "There, it's nice and safe. Don't say I ain't never done nuffin' for ya."

"Gee, thanks," Warren muttered in return, starting to raise himself up to his feet. "I--"

Kurt's paw smashed down with an almighty thud, a wave of air combining with the shaking bed to sweep him clean off his feet.

"...and he's brought down hard for a big loss!"

The football commentary rumbled loudly from the television across the room, causing Warren's ears to perk. He'd not be allowed too much time to dwell on it though; the movement of something huge casting a dark, sprawling shadow from above.

"Better get going!" Kurt's enormous handpaw loomed, barely covering the gleeful grin behind it. "You ain't got long!"

Warren let out a whimper, black-furred ears folding as he hurried up to stand. While he never feared serious harm from his brother, getting smothered by a paw large enough to completely bury him always came with significant discomfort.

"It looks like they're set for the next play here..."

"Kurt! Damn it, this isn't fun for me--!"

"...Here comes the snap!"

The big, brown paw split the air with a roar, setting Warren off on his hurried evasive manoeuvres. Somehow, he managed not only to sidestep the first impact, but also keep his balance against the trembling mattress and blasting air.

"Think fast!" Kurt's other paw followed, whistling past his face as he jinked away at the last moment. "Hey, you're gettin' good!"

"Quit it!" Warren kept on running, more through desperation than in a genuine escape attempt. At this size, he knew himself to be completely trapped here; the fall to the floor far too great to be survived without injury at the very least.

"Oh, stop complaining!" his brother huffed, the gusting from his nostrils enough to ruffle Warren's fur. "You ain't lost yet!"

"How you think this is a fair contest, I'll never know!" He kept his eyes ahead, fixed upon the blue hillside at the head of his bed.

"You're goin' for the pillow again!? Damn, you're predictable."

In all the times he'd tried to outrun the crashing of paws during their 'games' together, Warren had never made it to what he deduced to be the best place to evade his brother: inside his pillowcase. While it'd not allow him to escape, he believed, or at least hoped, that Kurt wouldn't dare be too rough without knowing his exact location.

"He's at the thirty."

"I guess I'll give you a fair shot." Kurt rested down on his knees, tail wagging in gentle anticipation behind him.

"The twenty."

"The pinning I give you's only gonna be worse now, though!"

"The ten!"

"Incoming!"

Warren looked back with jaw agape, almost freezing to the spot at the sight of his brother's immense form flying through the air. "Kurt! What the f--!?"

"Oh, that's a vicious hit right there!"

The massive coyote smashed down with an apocalyptic crash, his weight shaking the bed enough to send both the pillow flying to the ground and his brother rocketing up into the air.

Warren let out a squealing, fearful yip, the entire world around him spinning and tumbling with such force that he almost blacked out.

The violent flipping suddenly stopped; a wall of brown clamping closed around him while mid-air. He could barely breathe from the force applied to his chest, let alone gather the strength to struggle. Instead, Warren lied there, tail tucking while awaiting what his brother next held in store for him.

"I win!" Kurt chuckled, his cocky grin all too visible once he'd opened his paw. The tiny 'yote didn't respond, curled up atop his gigantic brother's exposed palm pad. 'Please let it be over... Gimme back my cloaker and go away.'

"Come on! Don't be a sore loser, now,"

Warren trembled at the jabbing of Kurt's finger into his back, shifting and flicking him about as if he were nothing. In silent defiance, he refused to offer up a response.

"Pfft, fine then... let's try somethin' a lil' different."

The stable surface beneath him began to pulse, strengthening each time until Warren found himself being bounced about like a ragdoll. "W-What are you doing!?"

"'s it look like?"

Bouncing became tossing, which in turn became nothing short of throwing. "Y-You're gonna drop me!"

"No, I ain't." With a flick of his wrist, Kurt heaved his brother up past his monolithic muzzle.

"Help!" Warren screamed, flailing through the air as he crested high enough to be able to look down at Kurt's ruffled-up, orange-tinted head fur. The ascent proved frightening enough, but the drop came to be downright terrifying. "Catch me!"

"I'm gonna!" For the first time that evening, Kurt's massive paws appeared welcoming, cupped below to await his landing.

"Fumble!"

"Oh, God!"

Warren landed chest-first against the soft, black tip of a giant middle finger; the impact hard enough to knock the wind right out of his lungs and set him spinning all over again. He yelped out loud, throwing paws to his face to block out the fast approaching surface of blue below. The fall went on and on, each agonising second bringing potential injury, or worse, that much closer.

'He's really done it this time... This is gonna hurt--'

"Gotcha!"

Warren came to a halt, his paws jolted from his face with breakneck force as he hung upside down a short distance from the mattress. Searing pain followed, racing up his leg until it pulled his focus to its source. The sight of Kurt holding his ankle between finger and thumb, stopping him from falling further should have brought relief. In fact, the beaming smile on his brother's face suggested he expected as much. So then, the loud, pained screams that followed no doubt came as a shock.

"My ankle!" Warren struggled, reeling in pain from the pressure contorting his paw into resting at an awkward angle. "Let go, let go!"

Kurt obeyed without question, ears folding flat as he, too, finally noticed what he'd caused. He lowered Warren to the bed, whipping his arms back to his sides to leave him writhing in agony atop the deep blue sheets.

"Warren, stop yelling! I--" Kurt's head dipped further, his brother's relentless bawling cutting him short. With a remorseful frown, he simply sat back, hovering over Warren's tiny frame until the yelps and cries died down into whimpering murmurs. "I-I'm sorry. Here, let me--"

"Get away!" Warren cried, sliding away from the approaching paw while clasping his ankle with his own.

"Please--"

"You coulda killed me!" He lashed out desperately, finally succeeding in stopping his brother's advances. "As it is... you've screwed up my ankle!"

"I... didn't mean to." Kurt wrapped his arms around himself, appearing far less confident and cocky than he'd been only moments ago. "Is it bad?"

Warren glared down at his foot paw, succeeding in wiggling his toes and flexing it lightly. It came at the cost of a sharp, shooting pain that drew a wince and a whine. "It's sprained," he snapped. "Not broken at least."

Kurt's big, brown ears perked the smallest fraction; a sight that set his injured brother snarling.

"Why do you bully me like this? Why do you treat me like I'm a toy!?"

"Bully? Toy?" He recoiled visibly, almost enough to fall back off the bed. "I-I don't--"

"Gimme my cloaker!"

"Bro, please--"

"Now!" Warren roared, prompting his much bigger brother to give the saddest grimace yet. "That's all I want from you!"

Kurt reached over to the desk, slowly bringing his paw back to offer his brother's chain, now shrunken to match his size, with a shaky, uncertain finger.

"This'd never have happened if you'd just done this from the start." Warren snatched the silver strand from off the huge fingerpad. He fastened it back around his neck, a flash of disorientating sickness striking during a near instant return to his five feet and change form.

Kurt swiftly retreated, scooting back to slide from the foot of the bed. "Are you... gonna tell Mom and Dad 'bout this?"

Those words brought the dreary memories of the orphanage rushing back with a vengeance. Warren remained silent, staring off into the distance.

"I'm their real son. You're just a Requoran."

"Well... are you?"

He snapped from his thoughts, glaring back up to his brother's fearful expression. "N-No... just... get the hell outta my room."

"Let me help you at least." Kurt's lowered his eyeline to Warren's ankle, slowly starting to swell beneath his golden brown fur. "It looks painful."

"Help me? I got enough help from you screwing it up in the first place-- ack!" The younger 'yote suppressed a squeal, the force of his reply leading him to inadvertently jab at his injury.

"Please--"

"Didn't ya hear me, you... big, dumb jock? Get. Out!"

"...Alright." Warren couldn't be sure he'd ever heard such a meek, sorrowful word spoken by his brother before. Regardless, he offered Kurt nothing more than a hateful scowl, not once taking his eyes off him until he'd slinked over to and disappeared out of his bedroom door.

For the rest of the evening, Warren restricted himself to his room, only leaving to limp to the bathroom and brush his teeth before bed. Not until he awoke the following morning did he realise the full extent of his injury.

"Feels like it's on fire," he groaned, carefully sliding his leg from beneath his bedcovers. The ankle Kurt twisted had swollen terribly, ballooning up to resemble a golden-furred tennis ball. "At least it's Saturday... Don't have to use this until school on Monday if I don't wanna." He winced and yipped, catching his paw on the wooden frame below his mattress. "Though if it hurts this much, will it be any better by then?"

Warren shifted to sit on the edge of his bed, gathering the courage to plant his paw fully and test out the severity of his injury. Before he could do, the slow, steady opening of the bedroom door ahead of him caught his attention. He waited until the grey muzzle sliding between door and frame came far enough to be identified, reacting to it with a low grumble. "What d'you want, Kurt!?"

His brother's head slipped inside, peering around to look at Warren with a sad smile. "How you doing this morning?"

"How you think? Go away."

He wouldn't though, opening the door further to take a wary step inside. "Mom and Dad are out... It's just you and me."

"Great... You gonna mess my other ankle up, too?" Kurt started across the room, holding something in his paw. "Hey, did I say you could come in?" Warren tried to shuffle back, but in doing so, succeeded in planting his damaged paw. He gasped in shock, yelping out loud before rolling to lie in distress on his bed.

"Relax, Warren." Kurt sat himself cautiously at the edge of the bed, tail wagging lazily. He opened his paw, revealing the support brace and ice pack he'd brought in with him. "This'll help."

"Did I ask for your help!?"

"No," Kurt muttered, ears folding back as he leaned forward to place the bandage and the cold bag upon the desk. "But... I'm offering it."

Warren maintained a steely focus, watching him settle back down and glance searchingly around the room. He tried to think back to a time where Kurt had been so timid and nervous; sat at the foot of the bed, stroking over the bare fur of his forearms while his wagging tail gradually eased to a halt. Slowly, Warren's small frown softened, right before he shifted to reach up for the bandage.

"H-Here," Kurt blurted, ears perking up.

"No, I can do it--" His brother's size allowed him to snatch the ice pack first, also grabbing the fabric wrap in the process. He'd not have a chance to protest further in the short time it took Kurt to gently clasp his shin, readying the bandage for application.

"This'll hurt some."

"Just..." Warren groaned, but eventually relented with a nod. "Be careful."

Kurt gave a surprisingly wide smile, tail starting to flick again as if he were enjoying this. With a soft touch, he slipped the brace around his brother's foot paw; sliding it up with minimal discomfort to secure his bulging ankle. "That weren't so bad, was it?"

"Guess not," Warren muttered, fighting against the small spark of contentment for the attention.

Kurt displayed the ice pack still held in his palm. "This will smart a little, though."

He huffed in response, still wary over what those big, clumsy paws had caused the night before. "Alright... get it over with."

The bag of ice swamped the burning of Warren's ankle, cooling it, but also sending a rush of pain up his leg and torso that exited his body through a loud sucking of air. He struggled and squirmed against the sensation, leading Kurt to clasp a firm but gentle paw to his shoulder. "'s okay. The worst is over."

Warren peered down to his ankle, finding his brother holding it tightly. The searing pain eased, replaced by a profound, but bearable cold sting.

"How's that feel?"

"Better," he mumbled, looking up to Kurt's gentle smile. "...Thanks."

"Don't mention it." His brother's tail thwacked solidly against the bed frame, right up until the uncertainty returned to his expression. "Did you have any plans for today?"

"Not... really," he replied, more than a little surprised by the question. "I was gonna run out and buy a game I had eyes on, but nothing that can't wait--"

"Hey, s'no problem. I can do it for ya. I've got work this afternoon, but I can grab it after my shift's done."

For some reason, the generous yet guilty offering set Warren's anger rising. "Don't go thinking my letting you wrap a paw 'round my ankle means I've forgiven you." Kurt's wagging ground back down to a halt, those big ears splayed out. "But... Thanks. It'd be nice if you could."

"Sure!" That brought the glow rushing back to his face. "One of the benefits from working at the sports shop; the games store is right next door... Hey, you want anything to eat? I can go make you something."

"I don't think you've ever made me--" Warren cut himself short, finding the earnest hopefulness in those eyes looking down at him. "If you're making something... I'll have some, too. Thanks."

"No problem!" Kurt rocketed up to his feet, still holding the ice pack to his little brother's ankle. "Hold this."

Warren did so, watching him bound out of the room with a great deal more spring in his step than the last time.

While the concoction of microwaved, leftover spaghetti and fiery hot sauce he'd been treated to proved edible, Warren would have been lying in saying he felt he'd missed out from never having his brother cook for him before. Regardless, he appreciated the gesture, even if it couldn't escape from the previous evening's shadow.

Kurt leaned over from his position at the edge of the bed, placing both of their empty bowls atop the desk, next to the now lukewarm ice pack.

"Y'know, you don't have to be here," Warren stated quietly. "I've got a sprained ankle; I think I'mma survive."

"I-I know, I just feel..." The bigger 'yote slumped back down to his seat, looking just as timid as when he first walked in that morning. "I've got a couple of hours before I need to leave for work."

"You said."

"Yeah... and I've been thinking... I remember how we used to kick back and watch TV on a lazy Saturday afternoon. 's been a while since we did that..."

"I remember, too." Warren rubbed over his cloaker thoughtfully. "After last night, though, I don't think I'm gonna be taking this off in front of anyone again any time soon."

He flinched back for a split second; Kurt's jolting movement towards him coming as something as a shock. "I'm real sorry for what I did last night... I never meant to hurt you."

Warren eased into a more relaxed position; back resting against the headboard. "You did, though."

"I know," Kurt muttered in quiet despondency, perking up a shade before adding, "I don't want you to think you can never take that thing off again, though. Besides, I know you used to love doing it; settling back on my chest and watching TV with me."

Warren huffed, nodding in begrudgingly confirmation. "It was nice... like having a big, warm blanket wrapped all around me."

"See!?" Kurt threw out his arms with a beaming grin. He seemingly remembered himself a moment later however, reeling in his delight only briefly. "After last night... I wanted to do something to make it up to you."

"You've wrapped my ankle and cooked lunch; that's something."

"I know... but this is something, too. If you wanna, of course."

After a moment of quiet deliberation, Warren gave his answer. "Alright... but I wanna stay here in my room."

"Whatever you're happy with."

"Just be careful, okay?"

"Okay!"

Warren took a moment to push back the memory of the evening before, reaching behind to the clip of his silver chain. His split-second hesitation brought Kurt's big, brown paws rising up defensively.

"Hey, don't mind me. l'mma just sit here until you're good and ready."

With a silent sigh, he unhooked his cloaker, once again shrinking down to his natural size amid a short burst of dizzying nausea.

"Damn, that never gets any easier," Warren grumbled under his breath, groggily rising to sit upright. Thankfully, the spinning of the room stopped in a near-instant; just in time for it to be replaced by the persistent shaking of the mattress below.

"There," Kurt thundered; his voice immensely powerful despite the softness of those words. "This ain't so bad, is it?" He slid carefully across the bed, rumbling past Warren's tiny form like a moving mountain.

"No... I guess not."

"You guess?" His face shone down with infectious glee, prompting his even littler brother to return a smile of his own. "How about we make you a lil' bit more certain, huh?"

The entire room, let alone the bed, seemed to rock as Kurt rolled and lied down. Warren instinctively lowered himself, clasping his bed sheets to stay secure against the shaking.

"It's okay." Those enormous paws started down towards him, growing only larger as they drew closer. Again, the torment of last night's 'game' flashed warningly within Warren's head, urging him to draw back and flee. He chose not to listen; the kindness in his big brother's face doing just enough to keep him sat there waiting.

They came to rest atop the bed, cupped invitingly to await a passenger. Warren appreciated that, much preferring to step aboard and settle down on his own terms than be plucked up and heaved about.

"I got you," Kurt murmured, lifting his paws delicately. He slid over towards the headboard, reclining back in much the same fashion as his brother had been a minute ago. In the time it'd taken to get comfortable, Warren had been transported up to his chest, positioned so that he lounged halfway between lying and sitting beneath the warmth of his big paw.

The little 'yote wiggled gently, freeing his head to set it down against the soft shirt fabric cushioning him. Below, his big brother's powerful heartbeat thumped soothingly, taking him all the way back to those early days here. He recalled the frightening, thundery nights that made it difficult to sleep in new surroundings; a difficulty brought to an end from the moment they bunked up together just like this.

"See. This is nice, right?" Kurt reached for the remote, turning the television on to a comedy clip show. The first scene they watched involved a cocky fox flailing to the ground after a series of flamboyant twists and somersaults atop a trampoline.

"It's not too bad." Warren looked up, unable to resist feeling bad for the disappointed frown he'd earned. "Alright... It's actually pretty nice in here."

"Great!" The thumping of tail against mattress suggested that to be a far better answer. "Your ankle's comfortable? I ain't hurtin' it, am I?"

"It's fine." He started to get real drowsy very quickly; the cozy security of his brother's hold sending him to sleep despite not feeling tired at all.

"Good." Kurt settled back further, letting out a roar of a sigh. His massive paw began to roll; those huge, tree trunk-like fingers stroking down Warren's miniature form.

"Warren?"

"Yeah?"

"Just so you know... If you tell anyone at school about me huggin' ya and stuff, I'mma be pissed."

In something of a surprise, given how bad it'd started, Warren adored the remainder of his weekend. While he'd have never admitted it, he loved the opportunity to be treated with gentle affection, so much so that he largely ignored the new video game he requested be picked up for him.

Warren went to bed Sunday evening reflecting on the fact that he'd not experienced Kurt acting this way towards him since his brother had been his age. Suffice to say, it proved a great deal more agreeable than the violent games, bordering on bullying, that'd gradually become the norm in recent times.

Few could have blamed Warren then when the following Friday rolled around, anxiety creeping in upon realising his ankle had begun to improve since the start of another boring school week.

"How's it feeling, Bro?"

"Huh?" He snapped out of his haze, putting aside the thought of the History assignment just tasked to him in final period.

Kurt gestured downwards as they strolled over the crisp, fall leaves gathered on the sidewalk connecting the school's main path and parking lot. "You seem to be walking a lil' better now."

"Ah, yeah..." Warren looked up hesitantly, doing his best to exaggerate his limp without going overboard. "It's... getting there. It's still bruised, swollen and... it's a bit painful to walk on, but just pushing on through, y'know?" A pang of guilty shame struck him at the sight of his brother's ears splaying out, just like they had done almost a full week prior.

"That's okay," Kurt stated, ears lifting a moment later. "It's the weekend now, so you can rest up and hope it's a lil' better by Monday." He looked around, apparently ensuring that nobody stood within earshot as they stepped onto the parking area's asphalt. "Maybe we can watch some TV or a movie together... like we did last weekend."

"That'd be nice," Warren replied, beaming a smile without even realising it. "If... you wanna that is."

"Sure!" Kurt slowed his walk, pressing his keys twice to deactivate the central locking of his beaten up, red compact.

"Hey, thanks for waiting around to give me a ride by the way. It's appreciated."

"No sweat," his brother called, opening the driver-side door before ducking down to squeeze himself inside. "I couldn't make ya get the bus home, not with your ankle still giving ya problems."

"I guess." Warren entered on the passenger's side, sliding in with a little less effort than his far taller brother. He pulled the creaky door closed, the discomfort of his shame returning to take hold within the pit of his stomach.

"What's up?"

"Oh... Nuffin."

"You sure? You've been a lil' gloomy the whole way from the front door. It's Friday; lighten up!"

Warren managed a small smile, though mostly at the thought that his feigning of more severe injury had saved him from a potential return to his brother's 'games'.

In a repeat of the Saturday that followed the night of the accident, Kurt offered to cook his brother lunch and help him redress his ankle, to which Warren duly accepted.

With their meal finished and the injured ankle tended to, they were left a couple of hours in which to fit a movie viewing before the start of Kurt's afternoon shift at the sports store.

Just like the last time he'd removed his cloaker, the warm, soft-to-the-touch fur of the big paw blanketing him helped Warren to feel a contented ease atop his brother's chest. Unlike that last time however, the niggling guilt he'd felt in the school parking lot had lingered, reminding him of the fib he'd told to wind up back in this position. The little 'yote would wrestle with that thought, doing all he could to calm his conscience.

'If it keeps me from getting pinned and dangled again, what's the harm?'

'Kurt's doing this 'cos he feels guilty. He still thinks your ankle's completely messed up.'

'It does hurt, though.'

'Limp's almost gone... but you've not told him that, have you?'

Warren looked up past the huge, grey-furred muzzle hanging above, focusing on his giant brother's happy, half-lidded eyes. He kept his gaze fixed, mulling over the relentless voice inside his head.

'Tell him your ankle's feeling better. Tell him he doesn't need to look after you--'

"Hey," Kurt's huge voice rumbled, his brown-furred face lighting up with a smile. "You okay down there, little guy?"

'Tell him.'

"I'm fine," he replied, pushing back against the gentle rubbing of his brother's paw.

"Y'look like you got somethin' to say?"

Warren paused for a moment, reveling in the secure comfort he felt at that very second. "I... I'm fine. Just... didn't want you to be late for work is all."

Kurt peered over to the desk beside the bed. "'s all good. Still got half an hour before I need to leave. No rush."

"G-Good," Warren muttered, settling back down with a gentle sigh.

'The longer you leave it, the worse it'll be.'

By the time the following Saturday arrived, two weeks had passed since the incident; ample time for almost any sprain to show at least a partial recovery. In respect of that, Warren's proved to be no exception.

He didn't need to brush back the fur of his ankle to see that the swelling had reduced almost entirely. Doing so however did allow him a look at the flesh beneath; the bright reds and purples visible there a week earlier now replaced by gentler browns and yellows.

Three quick raps to his bedroom door brought Warren's eyes up towards it. "Hello?"

"Warren?" his mother replied. "Are you decent?"

"Sec." He patted down his fur, lying back on his bed. "Okay."

The door opened with a whine, giving way for Warren's parents to enter. "How's it goin', son?"

He looked up to his father's gentle smile, hovering above the broad shoulders that always reminded him of his brother. "Yeah, I'm okay... Are you guys?"

"We're fine, honey," answered his mother, moving to sit slowly upon the bed while still facing him. "Just wanted to see how your ankle is."

"Oh... right... well, it's getting better."

"That's good to hear. It's certainly _looking_better--"

"S-Still... a little painful, y'know, to walk on..."

"I see..." She looked up to his father, then back to him as she scooted a little further up the bed. "You know, you can talk to me and your dad about anything, right?"

Warren's eyes flicked nervously around the room. At the same time, he battled against his tail slowly sliding to try and tuck itself beneath him. "I do."

"Don't ever feel as if you have to keep anything from us," his father stated, forceful yet lovingly. "You've always been quiet, and that's okay, there's nothing wrong with that... but don't ever be afraid of speaking up."

He sat up to look towards the foot of his bed, glaring at his healthy-looking ankle. "Thanks, Mom, Dad... I'm fine, though. When my ankle's better... everything'll be okay."

"As long as you are," his mother sighed. She reached over to give him a gentle, soothing hug before standing up with what sounded like a resigned, almost inaudible groan.

"Remember what we've said." His father ruffled the golden fur between his ears. "We'll be downstairs."

"Okay," he mumbled, silently watching his parents leave the room and close the door behind them.

Warren waited until the sound of footsteps upon the stairs ended, setting his paw down upon the floor and standing from his bedside without so much as a grimace.

'Don't matter how you try and spin it, or how many lies you tell everyone; your ankle's pretty much healed now.'

A familiar chugging approached and stopped outside, bringing him padding over to his bedroom window. The noise of Kurt's car fell silent beneath the streetlights' glow, right before he climbed out into the street and started towards the front path of their home.

Knowing he, too, would be up to pay him a visit sooner rather than later, Warren trotted hastily back to his bed, throwing himself down to lie prone with his supposedly injured paw slightly elevated.

As he lied there, staring up to the plain, white ceiling above, Warren wondered just how long he could keep this all up. It couldn't go on forever of course, but to admit he'd more or less recovered? Make himself a target for Kurt's rough treatment all over again? He wasn't ready for that.

'So, when will you be?'

The bedroom door creaked back open, drawing Warren's focus to the paw clasping its edge two-thirds of the way up. His brother's inquisitive face followed, right before he carried himself in to stand a few feet from the bed.

"Hey," Kurt said gently, unpinning the name tag from his maroon-coloured work shirt. "How ya doin' this evening?"

"Hey... I'm feeling good, thanks."

"Good," he replied, taking another step across the room. "Ankle feeling any better?"

"It's getting there," Warren stated, once again unable to stop from adding, "but still a little painful, though... when I overdo it, I mean."

Kurt made his final steps towards the bed, leaning down to examine the injury with careful paws. "The swelling's going down." He delicately brushed back the golden fur, to which Warren couldn't resist giving a tentative wince and a barely audible squeal. "_That_hurts?"

"A-A little, yeah."

"The bruising's fading, too... I ain't a doctor, but I don't think you should be in this much pain by now."

'You're pushing it too far,' Warren thought to himself, staring up to his brother's puzzled expression.

"Maybe you should see one? A doctor, I mean." Kurt's pointed ears began to fold. "If it's still uncomfortable... ya might have broken something."

"Yeah... maybe."

"Mom and Dad are starting to worry a little... They keep buggin' me to know if there's something else wrong they don't know about."

"Really?" Warren's head cocked; his turn to be confused.

"Yeah. They were askin' me last night about if I'd heard you talk about problems at school, problems between... Problems, that kinda thing."

"Right... They've been asking how I'm feeling, but..." He drifted off, falling silent amid the realisation his charade had spiralled far beyond his control. The feeling of guilt proved palatable, enough that he so very nearly called a halt to this increasingly ridiculous pretence there and then. "I'm okay... If my ankle's like this for much longer, I'll think about heading to the doc's."

"Okay." Kurt picked himself up from the bed, his expression neutral, unreadable. He shuffled back to the door, glancing back over his shoulder. "I'mma get changed... Mom asked me on my way up to tell you dinner's almost ready."

"Oh... cool."

"Want me to carry you downstairs again?"

The question came without the short smile that had accompanied each of Kurt's previous offers of help, starting Warren feeling terrible for the snowballing lie all over again. "No... I'll make my own way, thanks. Maybe walking on it'll help the recovery some."

The bedroom door squeaked closed behind his brother, leaving him to sit up like a shot and throw a paw to cover his face.

'I can't keep this up.' He shuffled over to the edge of the bed, standing up without so much as a twinge in his ankle. 'I'm gonna wind up getting an x-ray of a completely healed paw at this rate.'

Not even that thought would stop Warren from faking a limp however; one that he maintained all the way down to the dinner table.

The unease he felt at the ongoing lie had grown only stronger that night, carrying on all the way through to Sunday afternoon.

Once again, Kurt had suggested they watch some television together, and again, he suggested that Warren remove his cloaker to do so.

He accepted readily, even if the request came without the usual enthusiasm he'd become accustomed to over the past couple of weeks. The differences didn't stop there, though. While Warren found himself huddled beneath Kurt's paw, the grasp that held him didn't come with the same sense of security. Not only that, but all throughout the movie they'd chosen to watch together, his big brother barely acknowledged his presence.

"What's up?" he called, peering up to Kurt's stoic face. "You're kinda quiet today."

"Nuffin," came the response along with what Warren suspected to be the slightest hint of annoyance.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Kurt finally offered his focus, glancing down with that same neutral expression that had persisted since the night before.

"It's just... You look kinda--"

"Hey," he blurted hurriedly, releasing Warren from his hold. "I need to go to the bathroom."

The little 'yote had barely a second to react, sliding rapidly down his brother's chest as he started to sit upright. Warren scrambled about, clawing and clasping at the shirt beneath him. Unable to secure a hold, he slipped a comparative twenty or thirty feet down the white fabric slope, right up until Kurt's huge paw caught him just short of his lap.

"I knew it!"

Warren looked down to the palm pad under his feet, realising he'd landed perfectly and without a cry, a grimace or any other indication of pain. "Kurt--"

"I knew you were fakin' it!"

He staggered back, almost stumbling over his brother's massive, jet black pads. The grey-furred muzzle pointed accusingly at him had shifted a long way from neutral; a shocked, angry expression leaving little to the imagination. "Wait--!"

Warren tripped and fell, tumbling a terrifying half-second until landing sprawled out atop the pad of Kurt's other palm.

"Why!?" The surface securing him moved upwards at speed, stopping just short of those threatening rows of paw-sized teeth.

"I--"

"D'ya like makin' me wait on you? Having me carry you and ya stuff around like an idiot!?"

"No--"

"Damn it, I must really be an idiot, though." Kurt moved his arm away from his snarling maw, depositing his tiny brother upon the bedsheets with enough force to make him tumble and fall belly-first. Warren gazed up over his shoulder to the huge, towering figure looming high above. "I bet you got a real kick outta this."

"I didn't--"

"Oh, let's make Kurt feel like a total jerk. Let's milk it as much as I can to put the 'big, dumb jock' in his place--"

"Will you let me talk!?" For a moment, Warren forgot himself, the situation and the sheer magnitude of their size difference, what with his cloaker sitting out of reach atop his study desk. Ears folding, his next words came with a lot less strength from within his brother's shadow. "Please? Just hear me out?"

"Fine," Kurt huffed with enough energy to shake the mattress, turning away with folded arms. "I'm listening."

Warren clambered back to his feet, craning his neck to almost painful lengths to look up to his brother's disgusted face. "I didn't do this because I liked being served by you, or to put the 'big, dumb jock in his place'... I did it because, well, because I've liked being around you a whole lot more these past couple of weeks.

"What?" That won back Kurt's eyeline, though the expression of displeasure remained.

"All the games we play. The pinning, the poking, the general rough treatment: I don't enjoy it anything like as much as you think I do."

"You talkin' about the ankle?" Displeasure shifted into confusion, helping to put Warren a little more at ease. "If you are, I didn't mean to do that! It was an accident--"

"I know it was... but still, I've never enjoyed the overly rough stuff. The dangling and the tossing about especially."

"You've never said anything." Kurt lowered himself down until his muzzle hovered overhead. "I mean, you've moaned and whined about not wanting to play, but... I didn't know it was because you hated the games so much." Confusion turned to concern, regret. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I kinda wanted to the night you hurt me, but I couldn't. I was... too worried."

"Worried?" Warren gave a timid nod, right before his big brother scooped him up. "Why?"

"When we were younger, I used to worry that you'd get Mom and Dad to get rid of me... If I didn't play along with your games. That worry, it kinda stuck around... right up until now."

"That's stupid!"

He recoiled at that, taken aback by the force in the response which in turn forced Kurt's ears flat.

"Sorry, I mean... I can't believe you'd think that."

"You used to say it." Warren's own ears followed suit as he sat hunkered down with crossed legs in his brother's paw. "You'd threaten to tell them I'd done bad things to get me taken back to the orphanage."

"What!? When did I say that?"

"When we were little; in the first months I was here."

"I... really don't remember that."

"I do."

"And you honestly believe I'd have done that to you in a million years?"

"N-No... but back then I did. The nervousness kinda lasted, even if the idea itself was stupid."

Kurt scoffed gently, ears perking up a shade as he returned with an echoing thud to his reclined position against the head of his little brother's bed. "Even if I'da tried to do that, you _really_think Mom and Dad woulda listened?"

"Huh?" Warren watched a grin spread across Kurt's massive, grey muzzle, right before the warmth returned to envelope and hold him to his hill-like chest.

"Warren, they love you. We all love you. Adopted or not, Requoran or not, you're my brother for cryin' out loud!" Kurt hugged the tiny 'yote firmer, filling him with almost as much comfort as his words had. "Besides, they've always looked out for you, and they've always asked me to look out for you, too. If I'd gone to them and told them you'd done anything that bad, they'd have probably laughed it off."

"Really?"

"Of course!" He shook his head, smirking in disbelief. "What could you have possibly done to warrant getting kicked out of here by your family anyway!?"

"I-I dunno, but... when I was a cub, I'd worry. You hear about all those Requorans getting treated badly by Neotrians, treated like slaves, or worse... I used to be afraid the same'd end up happening to me, if I wound up someplace else."

Kurt's cheerful expression began to fade, prompting Warren to cock his head and ask, "What's wrong?"

"That fear... It's lasted all the way until now?"

"In a sense... Yeah. I still worry about people at school finding out about my cloaker. Snatching it up, shrinking me down and doing... things."

Kurt squeezed his paw again, drawing a happy grunt from his brother. "I'm sorry I did that to you. If I could go back, I'd have stopped myself from saying anything like that to you. It was nasty."

"You were seven."

"It was still nasty, and it's upset you for all this time... As for someone finding out your secret and getting hold of you, you know I'll never let that happen." He chuckled gently, beaming a grin downwards. "Besides, I'm the only one who's allowed to mess with you."

Warren snorted a laugh of his own, placing his head upon his brother's chest. Kurt meanwhile gave a heavy sigh, drifting off for just a moment before returning with another question. "So, you really don't enjoy the games we play?"

"To be honest, these last few months or so, I've been dreading them. So many times you'd pinned me down real hard, or tossed me around so high that... It all got so frightening. I don't think you can really understand the power you have if you've never experienced what it's like to be on the other end of things."

"I wish ya'd told me all this." Kurt smiled guiltily, rubbing his little brother's tiny left ear between the pads of his thumb and index finger. "But then, I really shoulda been able to tell, shouldn't I?"

"Maybe."

"I really can't believe you'd think I'da tried to get rid of you, though! Even when we've argued... I'd never want that."

"I guess it was pretty silly." Warren could feel his cheeks and ears begin to warm. "It's only now, when we're talking like this, that I realise it."

"That's good," Kurt answered gently, lying back with half-lidded eyes. "You should never be scared around your family." He gave a yawn long and loud enough that it felt, to the tiny 'yote on his chest at least, as if it'd caused the entire room to tremble. "You want your cloaker back?"

Warren sprawled out beneath his brother's paw, smiling at the strong, soothing heartbeat below. "Naw... I'm good here."

"Alright." The response came matter-of-factly, though the thumping of Kurt's tail atop the mattress exposed his delight. "It's the playoff game next weekend. You reckon you'd be up for a little new-and-improved, cloaker-free playing while we watch?"

"I think that's something I could consider," Warren muttered, his smirking betraying his own happiness. "Maybe."

"Run, short stuff!" came the growling cry from beyond the massive, vision-filling handpaw looming ominously above. "Pump those little legs of yours!"

Warren did so, breaking into a lung-busting run across the black-and-white, plaid-patterned sheets of the bed. "Damn it, Kurt!"

"Not fast enough!" With his tiny brother still trapped beneath it's imposing shadow, Kurt thrust his arm downwards. The parting of air became audible to the fleeing 'yote below, such was the speed at which it plummeted. "You're mine now!"

Warren's legs gave out from under him, leaving him stumbling over to lie face-up atop the bed.

The incredible velocity at which the huge pads of that sprawling, brown paw approached suddenly eased. The shifting air settled and the growling from above faded. By the time it'd impacted, Warren found himself able to reach up and wrap arms around Kurt's finger, right before it and the rest of his paw pressed him down into the bedsheets.

"Gotcha."

"No!" the tiny 'yote squeaked, giggling uncontrollably. He wiggled beneath the warmth embracing him, utterly helpless, but at no time fearful of that fact. "You don't have me!"

"Oh no?" Kurt's eyes glowed cheerfully in the light, as did his wide smile. "You look pretty had to me, Bro, trapped all the way down there in my bedsheets."

"I can get outta this at any time!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, really!" Warren started to struggle with vigour, squeezing the finger pressing atop his chest with all the might he could muster. Of course, he couldn't hope to even begin to move the weight atop him. Still, that didn't stop the pressure from mysteriously easing against his lashing movements.

"Damn!" Kurt called, now giggling himself. "When'd you get so strong!?"

Warren scrambled out from under the fully-lifted digit, jumping to his feet before hurling himself at back it. "Now I've got you!" He wrapped his arms around his brother's finger once more, playfully biting at the pad upon its tip as he dangled a short distance above the mattress.

"Oh, help! Help!" Kurt dropped down to his bed with a crashing thump, writhing around dramatically. "He's got me!"

Warren kept on biting away, growling in mock fury while his little tail wagged about like a high-tempoed metronome.

"Maybe... I... can... get out of this, too!" All of a sudden, the entire world flipped on its head. Kurt rolled his wrist, flipping both his paw and his little brother over. Before Warren could react, he found himself right back where he started: held firmly beneath jet black paw pads.

"Maybe I'll just push this off again-- What!?"

The rest of Kurt's body followed, flopping softly to the bed to leave Warren utterly pinned beneath his midriff. "You were saying?"

"Okay, okay! I don't think I'm getting out of this one."

"What's that? I can't hear you quite so well under there."

"You win!"

"Thought so." He rolled over onto his back, clasping Warren to his stomach. "That... wasn't too much, right?"

"That was unbelievable!" Kurt's ears gave their first hints of dipping, stopping the moment he heard, "So much fun!"

"O-Oh! I'm glad!"

"I coulda got out of that, really." Warren nosed into his brother's stomach. "Just didn't want you to feel bad at losing to your 'little' little brother."

"Uhuh?" With a wry smile, Kurt delicately clenched his paw around him. "Is that right?"

"What you doing?"

He pulled Warren slowly from his midsection, bringing him to hover before his now grinning muzzle. "How 'bout escaping from this?"

"What's this?"

Kurt stuck out his tongue, leaving it to hang there and be seen in all its glory.

"Hey! Don't you even think about--!"

He pushed his muzzle forward, opening his paw just in time to smother Warren with an enormous lick upon the entirety of his three-inch frame.

"Oh! What the hell!? Oh!" Warren cried indignantly, rolling around Kurt's damp palm while pawing at the matted fur of his face. "You giant jerk! I'm soaked!"

"That's kinda the idea, short stuff."

"You just wait 'til I get my cloaker back!"

"Yeah, well," Kurt snickered, grinning wider than he had done all evening. "Until then, you can just stay trapped here against my chest." He grabbed the remote for the widescreen television close to the foot of his bed, flicking it on to the sports channel. "I forgot all about the game... I wonder what the score is?"

"Such a jerk," Warren called, though with far more playfulness this time.

"Ain't I just," Kurt replied, sitting up to reach out and grab a tissue from the drawer of his bedside table. He ripped off a small corner and handed it to his damp little brother. "Here."

Warren accepted it with a smile, quickly drying his face before shifting to get a better view of the football game being played out on-screen. "Y'know... I like these games a lot more now."

"I know," Kurt answered gently, tail flicking about atop the bed. "I do, too. I guess I forgot what they're like when we're both having fun." He bumped Warren's head with his nose. "I'mma still be pissed if you tell anyone at school about this, though."

"Fine... I guess I won't tell everyone in your classes, your teammates and your tutors like I was planning to after all."

"Good," Kurt snapped playfully, repeating his nose bump. "See that you don't!"

_ _

"...He's clear in the endzone!"

"Go!" They cried in excited unison, focusing their attention back to the television. "Come on!"

The quarterback composed himself, launching the ball forwards moments before the defense grounded him. It sailed sweetly, dropping straight into the arms of the waiting receiver.

"Touchdown!"

"Yes!" Kurt screamed joyously, wrapping both paws around his little brother's frame and hugging firmly. "Jeez, that makes it 27-3 in the fourth quarter. This could be the game where everything changes for the better!"

"I think you're right." Warren's eyes creased from the smile he returned, reaching up to hug tight against his big brother's muzzle. "And it's been a long time coming."