FSE

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"I know too well that I'm just wasting precious time-"

It was a cool day. Grey roils of clouds stretched out across the sky, from one horizon to the other, just-as-grey puffs of smoke billowing up from the factories - Holiday Industrial, Fitzgerald Electric, Porter Coal. Around this time of year, in fact, everything about this city could be described as grey: the sky, the temperature, the lake and river, the moods and temperaments of the people-

"-in thinking such a thing could be-"

Almost everyone, at least. For every overcast day burned at least one resilient sunbeam, one drop of pure blue-and-gold sky through the fetters of a storm impending but never arriving. While others worry about tomorrow and stress over yesterday, someone rejoices that today is simply today-

"-that you could ever care for me..."

Late afternoon, early evening; late enough so that most workers had left for home, but too early for all the lights of the city to go on and emulate its perpetual daytime. There was a certain charm in wandering the city at night - it was a part of the air, perhaps, between the salt of the lakeshore a ways off, the tang of the river and all its boats, the bite of a chilly day. Yellow streetlights shone like dim stars of wide visages, fine beacons illuminating the sidewalk for one beam of sunshine in particular: a mutt of unclear lineage (his father was at least half wolf, and his mother a finer mixture than, as well as the same general color of, the coffee she made so often), brown-furred mostly, eyes of alexandrite - misty blue under daylight, smoky like an opium den, almost violet at other times.

"I'm sure you hate to hear that I adore you, dear..."

He tugged his coat tighter around himself, taking an odd pleasure in the feeling of chilled wool on his pads, and looked up at one of the streetlights as he passed under it. Ghostly pinpricks of moths and flies flitted around the bulb, a tiny glowing sun. The dog's breath puffed out and floated up from his muzzle in weightless, shapeless clouds as he sang quietly to himself, as he sang along with the music that never really left his head.

"...but grant me, just the same - I'm not entirely to blame..."

People - friends, coworkers, even strangers; anyone, really - often asked why he was in such a good mood, 'for', his Hungarian immigrant friend told him once, 'the day without a smile of Gabriel's is the day the world will end'. All that he ever had to say in response was that he simply had no reason not to be in such good spirits all the time. It just came easy to him. When asked how he evaded melancholy so easily, how he sidestepped misfortune and the black miasma trailing after it like lingering disease, and - Gabriel could only shrug, could only offer an apologetic 'I don't know'. No matter how hard he might he try, he couldn't possibly teach someone how to breathe.

"For you'd be so easy to love..."

Not to say, of course, that his life was simply better than everyone else's. He had at least as many bumps in the road to overcome than anyone else he had spoken to - it was just a matter of going over those bmps and leaving them behind, or stopping before reaching them and then never advancing for fear of the resulting jolt. He dropped a heavy crate on his left paw while working a few years back, and now his limited and lethargic control of those fingers reminded him daily of his clumsiness; he attributed his short tail to a trait inherited from his mother and her myriad of differences, when in reality, a train took off most of it - he couldn't walk for almost a whole year; his father died in the war on the coast of France, and his aging mother succumbed to grief and lost her mind shortly after. He still visited her every now and then, when the asylum permitted him to do so. He found solace in work, in friendship, in the sun and the moon and everything about life. If anything, all of this taught him to enjoy what good fortunes life did hand to him so much more.

"So easy to idolize all others above..."

The next streetlight flickered on and off in an irregular pattern, halfheartedly illuminating the front steps of the apartment building behind it. Sticking his paws into his pockets, Gabriel looked up to the windows of the second floor and hurried towards the heavy double doors to avoid the gentle rain that had begun to fall.

"So sweet to waken with..."

Often he felt bad about tracking the mud and drudgery of the city into the soft carpet (it was the color of warm sand), but, anyone in this bottom lobby tended to glare at him when he wiped his feet on the rough mat. However, they also frowned when he came in singing, as he usually did - to combat this, he tried to sing something else each day, or at least a different verse. On the walls hung paintings of the cityscape, of the wide, open lake, and one fuzzy photograph of the man who had established this apartment building, a charismatic little cat who went by the name of Atlas.

"So nice to sit down to eggs and bacon with..."

Aging stairs creaked under his boots, which were required uniform for all workers at his riverside shipping port. This apartment was a bit of a ways away, but not too bad for what it could be, doable in fifteen, maybe twenty minutes of walking, ten if he called a taxi or rode in a friend's automobile. However, again, he enjoyed the walk, and the extra time spent on the journey made arriving at the destination that much sweeter. After the first set of stairs between the first and second floors, the location of the steps shifted a few feet to account for structural and support issues; because of this, there was room enough for one extra room, buffered by that space and the lack of surrounding tenants. Isolation had a certain flavor to it, but like the way Cecil at work made his green tea, Gabriel could only taste so much of it at one time. But, then, the apartment wasn't his - he lived in a little house closer to the river, small but sturdy, just the right distance from everything so that the noises of the city and traffic, on road or river, more lulled him to sleep than kept him awake.

"Barry!"

He searched in his pockets for the spare key he had been given, and then decided to try the door first. It swung open after a bit of a push from his shoulder, and the heavy aroma of rain in his nostrils turned to the more acrid bite of smoke, cigarette and cigar, and the incense he burned in attempts to cover these other two.

The owner of this apartment, an older german shepherd, looked briefly up from chopping meat over a granite countertop. He could almost feel the early night chill recede a bit when Gabriel opened the door. The younger pup had that sort of energy about him, summer's sun beating back the winds of winter.

"Hey Barnett! You in here?"

"Kitchen." The shepherd's voice sounded so harsh to himself after Gabriel's. His was that of a bar patron with an affinity for bourbon and whiskey, and Gabe's was the kind belonging to those who claimed the lead roles in musicals. And indeed could he sing. When he sang, even quietly as he did while he climbed the stairs - after so many years, the shepherd's ears had begun to pick up the warm tones easier - oh, when he sang, the sun truly shone.

A moment later, the young mutt came into his view. He shrugged off his heavy coat and dropped it into its customary place when he visited, across the back of the old leather recliner - though he often overshot it so that it rested between there and the wall. "Hi-de-ho, Barnett."

He huffed softly. "You stink."

"Long day. Working with oil freighters." Gabriel leaned back against the wall, still in the shepherd's view even though his eyes were directed downwards. He fiddled with unbuttoning his cuffs; Barnett noted how he struggled with undoing the right one. "Can I use your shower later?"

"It's raining."

"It's also cold. I know it's not unlike me to go out there naked-" he'd done it once before - "but, really. Besides, I'd smell like dirt tomorrow morning."

"You already do." Barnett reached across the counter to the spices. "I can smell you from here."

Gabriel scoffed and went over towards the little shelf where he kept his incense and matchbook. Barnett didn't know why he liked that stuff; to him, it just smelled like more smoke of varying temperatures. "I'm surprised you can smell at all. I wish you wouldn't smoke."

"I wish you wouldn't burn that goddamn incense."

"Oh shush." After lighting a stick the same color as the fur along his arms - a tawny cinnamon-brown - the mutt came over towards the counter where Barnett worked over the meat. His nose twitched a little at the scent. "What're ya cookin'?"

Barnett glanced around for the garlic powder. He was tall, a bit heavier than his visitor, certainly rougher. His face bore the lines and creases that come with enduring twice the years, and he looked at the world for what it was: an unfriendly and malicious place, though only occasionally succeeding in administering this malice. He didn't believe in a God. Maybe he had at some point in time, but not anymore. "Meat."

"What kind?"

He had been a friend of Gabriel's father before all that hellish war business. Barnett had been deemed unfit to fight on the basis of psychological health - apparently killing one man over here was enough to keep someone from killing one hundred overseas, in the name of patriotism. He had sort of adopted the mutt, then still young; now that he was older, their relationship had turned into a more friendly one than familial. "Steak."

"Say, y'ever had - ah, Lord, what was it... squids brined in their own ink?"

"What?" He looked up at Gabriel over the counter. His smoky-quartz eyes reflected the light of the lamp he had on in the corner, and what of his cream chestfur that was visible under his shirt collar appeared more beige in the yellow light than white. Beauty came with youth, and Gave knew how to wield both of these as weapons. However, he had never ensnared a girl - not to Barnett's knowledge, at least. Fickle dames, the pup called them, treacherous orchids or something just as flowery, out of the old leatherbound books he enjoyed reading so much.

"Actually, lemme ask you this: y'ever taken a piece of gum out of your pocket and chewed it?"

"What kind of-"

"Except it's not really gum, but a scrap of rubber?"

"Gabe, what the hell-"

"And it's covered in petroleum lubricant from the machines?"

Barnett remained silent. He slid the meat into a metal skillet, and then put that over the stove.

"That's what squids in their own ink is like. It's... odd."

After messing with the steak a moment longer, the shepherd went out of the kitchen towards the big leather chair and leaned back in it. Gabriel grabbed his coat just in time. The chair creaked under the older dog's weight. "What day is it, Gabriel?"

The mutt sat down on the bench in front of the piano pushed into the corner of the room. The previous owner of the apartment had left it there on account of it being broken. Barnett had g9one to the trouble of having it repaired for Gabriel's sake, but he hadn't heard it played since the pup's accident with the crate four or so years ago. Sometimes when he stayed late and Barnett had gone to bed, he could hear quiet tunes from the other room, simple melodies played with the nervous stops of an early learner.

Gabriel had been playing piano his whole life.

"It's Tuesday."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, I hope it is. It's been Tuesday all day."

"Damn."

"Why?"

"That means I have to work tomorrow."

There were both reason for why the shepherd enjoyed and hated his job - he worked as a police officer, which had surprised him when he learned he had gotten the job, given his past. On one hand, it felt a good to protect people, even if nobody ever thanked him or even knew his name... however, it also kept him so aware of the shocking things humanity is capable of. SOmetimes he figured that that's the difference between himself and Gabriel: one had only experience common misfortune, while the other had witnessed, time and time again, the cruelty and malevolence of man to man.

"Well, hey, look on the bright side. So does most of the rest of the labor force. I had to work today."

"You're young."

"So are you."

"Kid, I'm twice your age - I could be your daddy-"

Gabriel shrugged. His relentless optimism used to be obnoxious, but over time, it had slowly infected Barnett. Perhaps tomorrow really wouldn't be so bad. "Nineteen is a small number, right?"

"Relative to...?"

"Right, so twice that is still pretty small, isn't it?"

"Gabriel..."

"What?"

Barnett swallowed. He could hear the steak start to sizzle; he would attend to that in a moment. Amid the mix of smokes tinged bitter by cold, he could just barely pick up the young dog's scent he had never tasted in true purity. "Will you sing for me?"

Gabriel hooked a foot around a leg of the bench. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Rain pattered gently against the window.

"Like the beat-beat-beat of the tom-toms..."

~ ~ ~

The rain continued through the night and into the next morning. When Barnett left his bedroom, he found Gabriel snoozing on his couch, boots by his feet and button-shirt opened to his lower chest. Every now and then his foot kicked slightly, or his nose twitched... like a younger puppy, even. The shepherd smiled to himself and went on to get his coat from the closet, when his paw brushed against a blanket. The coldest of the night was over, but...

He took it and shook it out out its full size, then carried it over and rested it gently over Gabriel. The mutt shifted, pulled it closer, yawned, opened his eyes, smiled. "Hey."

"Good morning. Did I wake you?"

"No. Well - yes, but don't worry about it." Gabe sat up, stretched his arms over his head, yawned again. "What time is it?"

"Five, five-thirty."

"Oh, alright. I have time." He settled back down and pulled the blanket, the same color as his eyes and the sky outside, up to his chin.

"Time?"

"To go back to sleep."

"...Do you want breakfast? I can be late today."

"Thanks, Barry, but I'm okay." Gabriel turned and pressed his muzzle into the cushions.

"Do you need an alarm?"

"I'm alright. Gee, Dad."

That made him smile. He threw his coat over his shoulder on his way to the door. "Will I see you this afternoon?"

"Probably. Cecil said he had something to show me down his way after work, though, so."

"Alright. I'll see you then."

"Yeah. Have a good day, Barry."

The door clicked shut behind him. Barnett sighed gently - oh, how he wished he could be like that pup, full of life and energy and joy. For the shepherd, the sun could only shine through intermittent gaps in thick clouds.

He didn't much mind waking up this early. It was something he had done all his life, first for his father and his auto shop as a young pup, then during the Depression, and then on through now... he didn't understand the appeal to youth of sleeping away the majority of the day when there's always so much to get done. On his descent of the stairs, he couldn't help but wonder w few things: he had never loved a woman enough to bear a child on her, so what had he done to deserve Gabriel? The young mutt was every bit his son, and yet also a friend and confidant - and he figured he was the same to him, though father.

Once fairly recently, Gabriel had come to him saying that he believed himself to be in love... however, he was not outgoing and joyous, spewing idyllic poetry and verses of senseless high vocabulary, as he'd expected him to be, but rather shy, quiet, nervous. 'It's an odd feeling,' he said, when finally persuaded to speak. 'I feel like I shouldn't but I do.' When asked who the lady's name was, he looked up, tilted his head, licked his lips, and said 'You wouldn't like to hear my answer.'

The most peculiar thing...

Yes, Barnett had been a friend of Gabe's father. A close friend, from childhood until the old wolfdog went off to war and never returned. Barnett had never really been 'happy'; to put it simply, he could only remember ever being just content with his life. There were rough patches, yes, like when a car exploded while his father was working on it, taking an eye, an ear, and most of his sense of smell; like when all the money dried up with the earth beneath his family's feet, and the largest meal they had in the span of a month being a feral mother rat and her young; when Barnett was effectively kicked out because his parents couldn't pay to feed the three of them together.

John's family - that of Gabriel's father - offered them money, but Barnett's father wouldn't accept it. He was the sort who believed that weakness only became manifest when admitted, and accepting charity - charity! - was admitting it. John's parents were morticians, and 'no matter what happens to the economy,' he said, 'people keep on dying.' They rode out the Depression with something that might have been called ease, relative to the trials of everyone else.

When he was seventeen, Barnett killed a man. Years of working in his father's garage strengthened his body, and he retained some of that strength even after watching half of his flesh and life carried off by wind and dust. He was seventeen, and the man - victim - thirty, forty-something, businessman, lean and underfed like himself. It was easy to hold him facedown, one foot on his leg and the other on his shoulders, and loop a rope around his neck and tug upwards. 'To feed the family,' he said. His mother said nothing when he brought it to her, bringing a paw to her mouth to stifle a gag; his father commented, a bit wryly, that that was one less job for him to finish, as the man had brought in his car the previous day for an engine repair. Barnett woke up later that night to police sirens. It was John's family who paid for his release; after lengthy psychiatric evaluations, it was deemed that he had been pushed to such measures due to dire circumstances, and otherwise would not have done it. Still, though, the mark remained on his name.

The whole thing took two years to finish, all the while leaving him between prison and the shack that John, his family, and then, his fiance (John was a few years older than Barnett), called home. By then, the Depression was over, but a different storm loomed on the horizon. When the first rumors of war infected every radio channel, Gabriel was only a pup, two or three years old. Barnett was completely taken with the child, his lavender-topaz eyes and voluminous tail, bushy like a feather duster. John asked him to watch Gabe during the day, as both he and his then-wife worked. He gladly obliged.

There it is, the shepherd realized, as he pushed open the door and stepped out into the street, into the cold air and rain. 'Gladly'. He remembered asking himself, as he held little Gabriel's paws when he was learning how to walk: is this happiness? He'd read about it in fiction, heard songs about it -

-sunlight on bare fur, velvet-soft blankets, an odd pulsing in the chest, a soft voice - 'Uncle Barry' -

A shiver ran through him, and yet he felt it wasn't from the cold.

~ ~ ~

The police uniform did little to protect him against the cold and rain, even though his winter coat had started to grow in. For this reason, he elected to do an automotive patrol along his usual route instead of walking - although, he had his partner start up the car, and then check why it was making odd noises as it did so.

His patrol partner was a tall, lanky panther named Joel who honestly didn't look like he could arm-wrestle a child and wing, and yet he had seen his strength on multiple occasions. Today, Joel seemed a bit... off in his driving and reactions, and at one point, pulled the patrol car over.

Barnett nudged him with an elbow. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I just..." another car went by, splashing water from a puddle over the window. "Hungover. Hoping nothing happens today, y'know?"

"What were you doing drunk? Don't you have a wife and kids?"

"Three of 'em. Kids, not wives." The panther, resting his forehead against the wheel, paused for a moment before sitting back up, and focused fuzzy eyes on Barnett. "You know how it is. She's been - bitchin' at me-"

"I don't."

"What?"

Barnett shrugged. The radio in the car buzzed to life with something unimportant. "Not married."

"Ever had a gal?"

"No."

"Lord, what've you been doing with your life?"

I could tell you, he considered saying. However, he doubted there was time enough in the shift for that. Instead, he just shrugged.

"No one who - what do they say... lights up your life?"

It's an odd feeling... I mean, I feel like I shouldn't, but I do... "...Yes."

"Well, there you go. Just-"

Another buzz on the radio, but this time, both his and Joel's names were mentioned. The two exchanged a look, and the panther breathed a 'goddammit' before picking it up. "Here."

"Reported disturbance near your location - a homeless man trying to break into a liquor store."

"Where?"

"Smack's Liquor."

Joel looked at Barnett and blinked. "Isn't that... just down the street? If it weren't raining, we could see it from here."

"Yeah." The shepherd started to get out.

"Hey - what're you doing? We have a car-"

"In this weather, faster to hoof it. C'mon."

Joel obliged, though not without plenty of complaint. The few unfortunate souls caught on the streets stepped out of the way as they passed by, not desiring to block two policemen from their destination. Smack's wasn't even open yet; the neon sign - which Barnett knew too well, from personal experience - did not throw its light to the world. He actually would have gone by it (as rain does quite a job of limiting visibility) had Joel not shouted for him.

The panther wrestled with a scruffy older wolf, skinny and grey, a half-full bottle of something in one paw. One of the front windows of the store had been shattered, and the alarm buzzed out want underneath the rain, yet still obnoxious. Barnett moved around the pair to try to grab the wolf from behind-

-and just as he started to move forward to bring his arms up under the wolf's, Joel lost his grip and fell back, and the wolf swung around, bottle raised, and slammed it against the side of Barnett's head. Bright - white stars -

Rain on his face, in his eyes, getting in his nose and open mouth. He coughed, tasted blood. Must have bitten his tongue, or his lip. He'd get up - if he could - once the sky stopped spinning - and when his eyes could focus -

After a while, he felt a foot gently nudge his side, and saw Joel's fuzzy shape silhouetted against the sky, one paw extended down. "Really clocked you, huh? Everything okay? Can you walk?"

Barnett tried to say 'I think so', but what came out instead was a garbled jumble of something. Joel did all the work of pulling him to his feet, and held him up afterwards; the shepherd spat out onto the sidewalk, blinked a few times, watched the rain wash away the dark burgundy.

"Need me to drive you to the hospital?"

"Nnnn." He shook his head, put a paw to his temple, blinked again. Slowly, the ringing went away. Mostly. "I'm okay, I... damn. Where'd he go?"

"Oh - I got him." Joel motioned over near the shattered window. The wolf sat against the wall, paws behind his back, head slumped over onto his chest. "Well. He got himself, I should say. Conking you with that thing threw him off-balance - musta been drunk already - and he swung forward, slammed his own head into this..." He tapped the streetlight with his foot. "...and fell back. So, I put the cuffs on 'im. Hey, you sure you're alright? You look worse than I did when I woke up this morning."

"Yeah. Yeah..." Barnett steadied himself, one paw out against the offending - defending, rather - streetlight and the other still holding on to the panther. "You complained about a hangover. Well, I bet you have nothing on this..."

"Sure you don't need me to bring you anywhere?"

"Ah... dammit. Y'know, just bring me back to my apartment."

"Yeah. Oh, yeah, sure. I'll tell the others what happened - they'll understand. Here - can you walk on your own?"

"Well, I-"

"Actually, help me carry this guy."

On lifting the wolf's legs, a sharp pain rippled across Barnett's chest; he cursed softly and looked down. After the bottle so rudely impacted the side of his head and shattered, it must have drawn down across his lip - that's why he tasted blood - and then over his chest, shredding the front of his uniform and slicing into his flesh. However, he endured it with only a bit of spite, and slumped back thankfully into the passenger seat after tossing the wolf into the back.

Joel went around and slid in next to him. The car putted to life after a moment, vibrations jarring the poor shepherd's head; he leaned on his paw, elbow braced against the window, and watched the scenery outside go by. The rain showed no sign of letting up, no sign of lifting its graphite pall from the streets. Cold, cold rain.

It had been raining when the letter informing of John's draft arrived. It wasn't addressed to Barnett, so he couldn't open it himself on good conscience. Instead, he spent the day with little Gabriel, slowly growing before his eyes, until the pup's parents got home from work. He was almost six.

Barnett remembered because John had to leave on Gabe's birthday. He put a yo-yo made of wood and colored metal on the pup's pillow, left a note saying 'From Daddy' on it, and left. He was so confident that he'd return.

"You doin' alright?" Joel asked. He looked over. "No brains leakin' out your ear? Hey - try not to bleed on the seat."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Still a little dizzy."

Physical pain is so similar to emotional pain, he'd found, and yet still so, so different. After the judicial system chewed him up thoroughly and spat him back out to the world, his parents would not consider taking him back in. He is nineteen, they said. He can handle himself, he and that friend John, whose family doesn't know how to keep their noses in their own business. Barnett hadn't felt such betrayal - such a volatile mixture of fire and ice, anger and disbelief, disappointment, raw grief - before, and hadn't since.

He watched the change in Marian - John's wife, Gabe's mother - as the months passed .She tried to remain happy, or at least maintain the facade, when her son was around; however, after Barnett had driven him to school or when he had been put to bed, just how much the separation affected her became clear. Barnett met John when he went to school, even then several years ago; the wolfdog would often speak of his dear, but wouldn't start courting her for a few years. He had always had an artistic mindset, and during the hard times of the Depression - considerably less hard for his family than others - he'd find solace in music, in poetry, in various expressions of his own heart and mind. And, oh, was he talented. For Gabriel's sixteenth birthday, Barnett gave Gabriel a painting of his mother that John did. The pup asked if a professional artist had done it. He still had that painting back at his own house, hung on a wall in the entry room.

"Where's your place, again? I've been there... twice? You know how I am with navigation."

"Take a left here, and then a right."

All that talent, all that vibrant ferocity, gone to waste. Marian truly loved him, and he really was what gave her life. Weeks stretched into months into a year- the world kept on turning, the city continued breathing, pulsing, thrumming with its own life, Gabriel continued growing, needing parents. He had Mama, later Mom, and Uncle Barnett, or Uncle Barry. His father never graduated past 'Daddy'.

After a while, he just stopped asking if Daddy would ever come home.

And then the news of John's death came. Just like the letter that called the wolfdog away, Barnett left it for Marian to open, though he felt he knew what it would say. Really, it could bring news of two totally different occurrences in John's involvement in the war, but... after the life he'd led, the shepherd had come to expect the bad things.

He was in the other room with Gabriel and his private teacher. Gabe was eight then, almost nine. a Chopin prelude, a glass shattering on the floor in the kitchen, a sharp intake of breath; "No-"

"Here."

"Here?"

"Here. With the streetlight out front."

"Oh yeah, I remember that thing." The car slowed down and then stopped, jerking them forward slightly. Joel rested his arm on the wheel. "Doesn't t not work right? Flickers, 'r somethin'?"

"Yeah. Hey, thanks, J. Tell the chief what happened."

"Hey-" The panther leaned over as Barnett stepped out of the car. "You need me to walk you up or anything?"

"No. Thank you. Hit me hard, but - I just need to lie down for a bit. I'll probably be back at work on Thursday."

The rain was cool on his fur and skin. It soothed the lingering pain, if only slightly, and washed the blood away from the slash across his chest. He could fix his uniform later tonight, or tomorrow.

"Well, alright. See ya then."

"Yeah."

He waited for Joel to drive off out of his sight before turning towards the stairs. Nobody waited in the bottom floor lobby of the apartment, as they often did - most were probably off at work. That meant Barnett could have some quiet to himself.

Not that he didn't usually. A nearby tenant also had a piano and sang while playing it, but... it's nothing like Gabriel. When that pup sings, the music sways and lurches and breathes like a living thing, bending to the will of his voice and his fingers on the keys. Simpler tunes since his accident, but with no less vitality or vibrancy, and his voice still carried the same beauty...

Once at the door, he searched around in his pockets for his keys. Marian used to be an opera singer, and again, John entertained many different embodiments of the arts: it was no surprise that Gabriel seemed to be the incarnation of those things. For Barnett, the time for developing and honing such skills had long since passed.

He could love, though. Ask anyone who had figured it out, 'it' being this whole crazy game called Life, and they'd say that that's more than enough. They'd say that's all that matters.

After shaking off his wet clothing, he lay back in the chair and closed his eyes. His head still hurt a bit, and his chest stung, but it really wasn't too bad. He'd had worse.

Hell, one time, he thought he'd cut a few fingers off. Back when he was a pup, it was a lot smarter and cheaper for families like his to catch and butcher their own meat (back then, way back then, he didn't live in a city. That move happened when he was thirteen or fourteen), even if that meant having to spend time out of the day to find it. The day he tried his first... well, Barnett learned that the blood of a feral pig looks exactly like that of a german shepherd. He'd only sliced into the skin of two of his fingers, but it was bad enough to hurt like he'd cut through more.

He couldn't imagine Gabe doing something like that. The mutt came from a family that had coasted through the Depression instead of scraping by under its heavy influence, a gunk-encrusted boot that held everyone else down. Perhaps that's why he was so happy all the time. He'd never experienced the full spectrum of what life had to offer. Besides that, barnett wouldn't even let him do such a brutal thing, and he'd shoulder any burden brought down on the pup' shoulders, for Gabriel's happiness was what brought him happiness.

He could love, and that was all that mattered. He could love, and oh, did he love.

~ ~ ~

Barnett awoke to an odd warmth on his chest - as well as a dry soreness in this throat, telling him he'd slept with his mouth open. Still his head nagged at him, but it wasn't so bad as long as he didn't move it. Lagging a bit, he stretched, yawned, shook his head out, regretted it. The warmth lifted from his chest; he opened his eyes.

Gabriel kneeled next to the chair, aquamarine eyes bright. Here, it was clear that he was a mutt: one ear stood rigid and erect, while the other did so only halfway up before flopping over, like a tree branch bent under too heavy a burden of fruit. "I was checking to see if you were dead."

"Dead?"

"Yeah. Dead. I came in, saw you there all cut up, panicked, thought you'd been hit."

"...Hit?"

"Yeah, y'know, taken out. Docked. Brought down. Dinged. Uh... killed. I thought, why'd anyone wanna hurt my daddy Barnett?"

"Well, he was drunk."

"Who was?"

"The guy." Barnett made as if to get up, but upon seeing Gabe's ears lower in concern, settled back down. In checking his health, the mutt had pulled the blanket down his chest a bit; now feeling the chill of the rainy day, Barnett pulled it back up. "Homeless wolf, alcoholic. Had a bottle on 'im, one of those thick squarish ones, and popped me upside the head with it. it shattered, I fell, he lost his balance, sliced my chest when I went down."

"God damn. You okay? Need me to get you anything?"

"No, no - thanks, Gabe. Head hurts, is all."

"You have a concussion?" Gabriel tilted his head and stood up. Barnett could feel the warmth emanating from his body when he approached, and then even more intensely as he leaned over. "Let me see your eyes."

His breath carried a sweet hint of... of strawberries, or something. At this close distance, Barnett could see the nuances in his fur, the little flecks of white and grey amid milk chocolate fluff. "How was your thing with Cecil?"

"It was okay."

Faceted gems, one blue-grey, the other a dim lavender as the cool light from the window shone on it. Veins of silver and lighter colors streaked through both. "Wait, what time is it?"

"Like, five or six. I don't know."

"Oh. That didn't take long."

"That's why I said - um." Gabriel looked away for a moment, then stepped back and kneeled by the chair again. "I think you're fine. I mean, I'm no doctor, but... I worry."

"Why?" Barnett forced a smile, which turned into a genuine one when Gabriel's ears lifted a little because of it. "I'm a big daddy shep. I can handle myself."

"I know you can, but... I don't mean to get sentimental - you're all I've got left, Barry."

"Gabriel-"

"No, no. Don't get up. I want you to listen to me. Okay?"

A while back, the rain had slowed to a stop. Now, the only lingering sound was that of the neighbor tinkering on their piano, isolated notes floating eerily through the walls.

"I feel like... like you should know how I feel. I know - I know it's only a bonk on the head and a cut on the chest, but... hell, your job is more dangerous than mine, and I saw a guy get squashed by a shipping crate when the cable broke. Had to... scrape 'im off the bottom, like... gum on a shoe..." He trailed off, looked down, shrugged. "I could come here one afternoon, and you're not home before I am. So I wait a little longer, start cooking supper, go to the piano - since I know how much you like it when I'm singing when you get home - but you still don't show up. Spend the night, sleep, wake up, you're still not there. Go to work, hear from... Cecil 'r someone about 'the raid' or 'the robbery' or somethin', where so-and-so cops were killed, and I'm handed your newspaper, and only then do I see your face..."

No sun shone through the clouds. The rain would surely soon return, and it still had the world enveloped in its cold embrace. Barnett shifted, and winced at the little jolt of pain that lanced across his chest.

"...I don't know what I'd do. My own house is... it isn't a home. There's no warmth, no scent, no life like there is here. Here, I walk in after a hard day, I - I breathe in the aroma - since every m- everyone has their own scent - of you spending the day at home, and it... melts away the ice clawing up my heart and mind, so to say. Yours is the scent of my childhood, of the chest I buried my muzzle into when my piano teacher was particularly displeased, of happiness, of the Shakespeare collection you'd forgotten to give me for a year-"

"...you remember that?"

"Yes. When I was younger, I'd write little notes in the margins about... about silly teenage infatuation, but..." He looked over at the window, ears lowered slightly. The shepherd thought he could see a slight blush underneath the fur of his cheeks. "...Some of it still speaks to me, beyond that... naive interest."

"Gabe... what are you saying?"

"...'_because love, I have heard it said, sometimes flies and sometimes walks. With one person it runs, with another creeps; some it cools and some it burns; some it wounds and others it kills; in a single instant it starts on the race of passion, and in the same instant concludes and ends it; in the morning it will besiege a fortress and by evening it has subdued it, for there is no force that can resist it.'_That's... Don Quixote, not Shakespeare, but... what I feel for you is... I see you as - more than an uncle, more than a father, more than a brother, though you're all of these things to me. But that doesn't say much, does it?"

"Gabriel, I swear-" Barnett started to get up. The pup didn't stop him this time, instead watching him with wide purple-graphite eyes. "What are y-"

"Do you remember my aunt Lyra?"

"...No?"

"Exactly. Family is... well, blood relationships are different from those with friends and... others. I've never really had a family - outside of you, at least - and I feel-"

Upon standing up, Barnett's headache returned in force, and he wavered; Gabriel stood up as well and caught him, one warm paw in the middle of his chest and the other on his lower back, right about his tail. Claws pressed in gently, not hurting, but... tickling, almost. It felt... nice.

He looked down. Gabriel stood slightly shorter than him, just enough so that the pup had to tilt his head up to meet his eyes. Were he to stand on his toes, their muzzles would be on about equal height. "Gabe..."

He had watched the pup grow up - well, he'd guided him through his childhood - and seen him develop into this intelligent, skilled, attractive dog. He'd been Barnett's only true companion since John died - and, oh, could he see that wolfdog in his son. The charisma, the optimism, the benevolence, the...

"You're..." Gabriel shrugged. Even though Barnett had regained his balance, he kept his paws on him - and traced circles in the fur of the shepherd's back with a claw. Barnett shivered gently. "...uncle, father, brother, friend... more. I'm... nervous saying it, but..." Lowered ears, averted eyes. "...it's true. I see Cecil all the time because - because-"

Barnett smiled, recalling something Joel had said to him once, and put his arm around the smaller dog's waist - Gabriel started a bit. "Because there ain't no dame for you?"

"I-I-"

"Gabe..."

"That's - not what I-"

The german shepherd brought his other arm up around the pup and pulled him into a hug, ignoring the slight sting of the cut on his chest. Gabriel smelled like... he smelled faintly of warm cinnamon, he discovered, nuzzling against the side of the mutt's muzzle, an aroma that made the headache melt away. Embarrassment was prominent in his scent right now as well...

"Is that what you and Cecil have been doing after work all this time? IS that what he's been wanting to show you?"

"I-I'm sorry, I-" He tried to wriggle out of the hug, but Barnett wouldn't let him. He rarely had the chance to hold Gabriel so close like this, and it wasn't something he'd easily give up. As the pup spoke, all flustered and blushing, he leaned forward and nuzzled his ear, flopped over halfway up. "I didn't think you'd-"

"Hey, hey. Shh. I'm not mad."

Gabriel looked up. Burgeoning night behind grey clouds had further darkened the light in the apartment, so that his eyes looked more like cloudy minerals than cool, clear gemstones. No less beautiful, but different in their own way.

"...Well. Maybe a little, since you didn't tell me before."

"Barnett, why w-"

"Have you... ever wondered why I've never spoken about a wife, or even a girl? I've been your solitary Uncle Barnett ever since I took you in."

"So..." Gabriel's ears splayed out for a moment before coming back up while he thought. "What about when - I can to you a few years ago, and asked about... someone I liked?"

"I told you what Shakespeare would've told you."

"You read Sh-"

"I felt like we were growing apart then, since you'd discovered girls - or, boys-"

Gabriel blushed and looked away.

"-so I decided to... try to share an interest with you. Well, funny thing-"

"Looks like we're both interested in more than Shakespeare?"

The mutt gave him the brightest of smiles as he said this, enough to burn away the chill of approaching night. Barnett couldn't help but laugh and tug him closer; Gabriel's arms around his waist tightened as well.

Barnett licked a spot on the pup's cheek where the fur stood up - and always had in the past; he used to complain about it whenever he'd do that while preparing him for school, but now, he said nothing, and instead stood up on his toes and licked him back. "Gabe... what was that you were saying about... how you feel about me?"

"Well... if there's one thing I learned from Cecil..." Gabriel's paw slid down the shepherd's back, far enough so that his thumb worked under the waistband of his pants and rested against the base of his tail. "...it's that I don't much like a guy I can hold down."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"Something tells me I wouldn't be able to do that with you." Blue-grey eyes flicked up to him, and then flicked back down. His paw lowered further along Barnett's back. "Something also tells me that I would be the one being held down..."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Well, you're a cop. You get paid to hold down..." Gabriel licked his lips and gave the shepherd a look that instantly made him regret tightening his belt so much this morning. "...rebellious young men."

"Rebellious like yourself?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"Because..." Barnett gently took one of Gabriel's ears between his teeth and tugged. The younger dog breathed a soft gasp. "...I don't much like a guy who doesn't follow instructions."

"I can be persuaded to be... obedient."

"Oh, yeah?"

"As long as you're gentle."

The shepherd bent over, swung an arm around Gabriel's legs, and lifted him up; Gabe, surprised, let out a gentle yip. "No promises."

"Hey - what're y-"

"I'd say we find out just how much we... work for each other."

Gabriel's ears perked when he looked to the side and noticed that Barnett was carrying him to the bedroom. The shepherd, in reality far more nervous than he let on (and exceedingly glad that Gabe seemed to be willing), pressed his muzzle into the pup's neck and closed his eyes for a brief moment. It was a bit odd, but the desire - as well as the knowledge of it - had been there for a while now, since around when Gabriel graduated from school and started working at the shipping port a few years ago. He walked in one day with his shirt off and asked Barnett to rub his back...

He nudged the door open with a foot and laid Gabriel down on the bed, taking a moment to nuzzle up under his chin and then place a kiss on his cheek before standing up. Gemstone eyes watched him as he breathed in, breathed out, moved to take off his pants-

"Wait."

A reverberating pound of a heartbeat in his chest - what if Gabe didn't really want this? What if he was going too fast? After all, up until now, their relationship had been very... uncle-nephew, with a few conversations and moments that made it seem like more...

Gabriel came forward to sit on the edge of the bed. "Let me help you with that..."

Gentle fingers - even on the paw that he had limited movement with. He fiddled with Barnett's belt, fingers moving with a gentle dexterity, and then started at the button and zipper of his pants; it got caught part of the way down, and the mutt's ears flattened against his head as he tried to work it free, belying his nervousness-

"Hey."

He looked up; Barnett ran the back of his paw across the side of the mutt's muzzle. Gabriel gently nuzzled against it, not looking away from the shepherd's face above him.

"We don't have to if you don't want to."

A soft smile and glitter of eyes. Gabriel licked his lips again, and smoothly tugged down the zipper. "Wouldn't I resist if I didn't want to?"

"What happened to not being able to hold me down?"

"Well..." He slid Barnett's pants down his legs a few inches, bringing into full view his grey boxers, as well as the bulge hidden somewhat by loose fabric. "It's not like I'd put up much of a fight, so to say. I told you that I can be persuaded to be obedient."

"...Gabe, I still-"

"Oh, Barry..." He pressed his nose up against the bulge in front of his muzzle. Barnett shivered at the contact; Gabriel nuzzled along the outline of his sheath, breathing warm breaths that only made the fit that much tighter. "...shh."

The mutt's fingers came back up, hooked around the waistband, paused for a moment - during which Gabriel pulled in and then let out a slow breath - and then slid his underwear down.

"Well..."

Barnett tilted his head.

"You're certainly..." Gabriel swallows, still bringing Barnett's pants and underwear down. His nose lingered inches away from the shepherd's thick sheath, brown-furred and with his pink tip peeking out the end. "...more... than Cecil."

"Are you sure you want to do this, Gabe? I mean, I-"

Gabriel wrapped one paw around Barnett's sheath and squeezed gently, urging out more of his length, while the other massaged his sack. Barnett closed his eyes, letting the feeling of his paws on him guide his breathing. His skill and dexterity on piano carried over to these... other uses for his fingers; he had a certain way, a certain touch, that made him push his hips forward - and the underside of his cock rubbed against the fur of Gabe's face.

"Sorry-"

"Oh, don't be..." Gabriel did it again, having moved one paw to the base of the shepherd's reddish-pink shaft, though his knot still remained sheathed beneath warm fur. "...You smell divine..."

And then, the sweet heat from a tongue along his length, from base to tip. gabriel knew how to work his tongue - he swirled it around the tapered end of Barnett's cock and then ran it down the side, pausing to press his lips against the hot flesh a few times as he went. The shepherd almost wished he had something to lean against, after feeling the way Gabe sent all the focus and tension out of his body - the way he hadn't felt in a long, long time-

Gabriel dove down along his shaft, lips tight, tongue pressed up to cup his meat as he drew it into his muzzle. Barnett peered down through almost-closed eyes and saw the mutt's eyes also shut, as well as his ears limp in relaxation and a noticeable tent in the front of his pants. With a deft paw, Gabriel worked Barnett's knot out of his sheath, and then pulled back off the rest of his length so he could go down and pay it some attention with that tongue of his-

After a moment, the shepherd brought a paw down on Gabe's shoulder and pushed him down to his back; he went down easily, a cute little smirk on his face. "Gonna hold me down?"

"Maybe." The bed creaked when Barnett got over him, paws on his shoulders - Gabriel shifted, breathed out a hot breath, smiled wider. He lifted his head up for the kiss even before the shepherd had started lowering his... he could smell his own musk along the mutt's nose and muzzle, and while it wasn't something that really did much for him, that fact that it coated Gabriel's muzzle - something he had dreamt about for a while, and, given the enthusiasm with which he had gone down on him, something the mutt had thought about more than once as well - made it so much... more.

It seemed only natural, then, to move one paw down Gabe's chest and belly and work at his pants, while he found himself drawn deeper into the kiss; Gabriel even lifted his hips up off the bed so he could pull his pants off. Warm lips on his, a tongue that pressed against and wrestled with his own, the heat of an unclothed leg against his thigh. He broke the kiss and moved back to remove them utt's pants and underwear, also kicking off his own. Gabriel wiped the back of a paw across his muzzle; his own erection, full and red, throbbed in front of the cream-white of his belly. He certainly had the proportions of a wolf in him.

Barnett smiled to himself as he bent to one knee, also hooking Gabe's legs over his shoulders. Soon, he would have the proportions of a german shepherd in him.

As long as he was willing, of course. And given the way that he spread his legs further apart and moved closer to the edge of the bed, Barnett almost thought he'd do it himself, that he'd have to let the mutt hold him down.

Still on his knees, he nosed up under Gabriel's sack so that his chin touched the base of his tail and his lip the mutt's sweet pucker. The heat, the scent, the absolute closeness, the taste as he slid his tongue out between his lips and against the pup's warmth... a shiver of raw enjoyment coursed through him and made him bring one arm up around one of Gabe's legs and press his muzzle closer, flicking and moving his tongue in attempt to emulate the deft dexterity he had felt moments before...

...and, apparently, he was succeeding. Gabriel writhed a little on the bed with a low moan reverberating in his throat, and after a moment, Barnett felt the pressure of his paw on the back of his head, keeping him down, forcing him to inhale Gabriel's scent and then exhale warm breaths over his fur, either through his nose or during the little pauses in his tonguework. The mutt's tailhole provided a bit of resistance, but he managed, after some more focuses on the rim and adventurous prods from his tongue, to coax his way in - which urged Gabriel to pull in a breath and then bring one foot up to the edge of the bed, so that he could push his rump even closer to Barnett's mouth, his lips, his tongue.

The pup had a sweet, sweet heat, a wonderful tightness, that made the shepherd press forward against the side of the bed in his desire. He could wash the sheets later - he knew he was leaking, and a paw reached above to trace along Gabriel's length brought to his knowledge a puddle of pre gathered in the fur of the mutt's belly. Barnett swirled a finer in this puddle, then placed a string of kisses - with tongue, of course - on Gabe's tailhole and lapped off the salty tang.

The mutt, after waiting a moment to catch his breath, opened his eyes when Barnett stood, lifting his legs up on his shoulders with him and thus elevating his lower body off the mattress. He looked down, angled the tapered end of his cock toward Gabriel's tailhole and gently poked against the saliva-slickened heat, looked for a sign-

-and got tugged forward by the mutt's feet behind his neck in response.

He moved his paw up to Gabe's lower belly so that the pup's cock rested on and throbbed against it in anticipation. Oh, how he wanted to take that cock firmly in his paw and slam into him...

"I'll go slow."

"Well, first..." Gabriel wriggled closer to Barnett, close enough so that his tip just barely started to breach his tightness. He bit his lip and breathed out after a moment. "...you have to start fucking me."

Oh, hearing Gabriel say that to him just did it. He dug his claws into the mutt's leg, taking care not to pierce too deep, and started to sink into him, watching his face as he went. It was so tough to resist letting his eyes drift shut as the slick, tight heat slowly enveloped his length, so tough to not toss his inhibitions and slam in so that his wide knot pressed under the mutt's tail, but - Gabe's tense, almost strained expression persuaded him to hold back.

An inch or so in, and probably drooling just as much pre into him as Gabe did onto his own stomach, Barnett leaned over him - making him squeeze out another moan - and gently tilted his muzzle toward him with a paw. "First time?"

"Yeah..." Gabriel's voice sounded heavy, laden with pleasure, desire, interest, and... still a bit of nervousness. Smoky eyes blinked up at the shepherd above him, at the dog who slowly, slowly drove his length deeper into him. "Me 'n Cecil only... paws and mouths - too nervous to do anything more... never enough time-"

"We've got all the time in the world."

Gabriel nodded, mouth hanging open and tongue loosely out of his lips. "You're - doing fine. I probably... shouldn't have- tangle with someone so thick for my first time, right?"

"I'm glad you chose for me to be the one." Barnett leaned further over him - in turn bending his legs more towards his body, lifting his rump further off the bed, and sinking slowly more into him - to share another kiss. Gabriel's lips met and locked with his, only to break apart every now and then for a heated huff of breath or a sharp gasp. "God, I want you-"

"You can have me."

Barnett straightened up, moved his paws to Gabe's shoulders, and pressed his hips in further until his knot prevented him from doing so any more. Gabriel, half-bent over himself with his feet almost at his ears, licked his lips and peered up through almost-closed eyes. "Go."

"What?"

"Fuck me."

"You sure?"

"Yes - please, I want it-"

It was just as sweet a feeling pulling back out of the mutt as it was sinking in to him; Barnett did it slowly, pivoting his hips back but not letting go of Gabe's legs, so his tip still remained in him. Along with a knot at the base, he also had a smooth swell at about the midpoint of his length, and it was this - or, it was the amount of the shepherd in him - that made Gabriel arch his back and breathe out a shuddering sigh when he slid it back into him.

The shepherd started thrusting in a slow rhythm, his knot at one end and tip at the other the limits of his movements, always watching Gabriel's face and his expression as it gradually softened, gradually gave way to a softer pleasure. After a while - during which Barnett had sped up a little, letting his own inhibitions roll back - them utt moved one arm behind his head and brought the other down to begin stroking his length, in rhythm with the thrusts of the shepherd. Gentle breathy moans worked their way out of his just-parted lips.

Barnett started to give in to his want to fuck Gabriel like he did; the pup's eyes had once again closed, not with nervous pain but now with raw pleasure, and the bed squeaked each time he slid back in. The mutt moved a little and his breath hitched whenever Barnett's knot pressed up against the rim of his tailhole, though- he was not ready for that. That would come on his own time. Barnett - with difficulty - started to slow down, and then finally pulled out ,earning a soft gasp from the pup; Gabriel seemed to understand, though. After a while, he rolled over, shakily lifted himself to his paws and knees, raised what little was left of his tail...

Barnett, on a whim, leaned over and dragged his tongue once more up over the pup's spread tailhole, and again, loved how he could smell himself there, before placing his cocktip against him and sliding back in. In this position, he could feel Gabriel's responses so much better - how he clenched around his length when he pushed back into him, how his back arched and his hips pressed back, how he spread his legs a little wider... and besides, this made it quite a bit easier for the shepherd to pull him to him with one paw and reach around and take his cock in the other.

Gabe was also considerably more... vocal in this position, too; Barnett almost worried that the neighbors would hear him, but honestly, he didn't really care too much. Knowledge of the world outside all fell away - it was just Gabriel and Barnett, a young mutt and an older german shepherd, connected by their breathing, their heartbeats, their desire, their passion, their rhythm -

To pull him closer each time he shoved back in, Barnett moved his paws to the mutt's hips, and he could feel his knot teasing and pressing further when he did. Gabriel seemed to want it; he balanced on one paw and brought the other back to his lower body, sometimes to stroke along his shaft and sometimes to hold Barnett deep inside him. He pushed backwards when the shepherd thrust in, and clenched around him whenever he pulled back out.

Barnett bent over the pup and buried his muzzle in the fur of his neck, breathing through clenched teeth, slamming into him with enough energy, enough want, enough fire to make him lurch forward and stifle a gentle chirp of a moan. Gabe's ears lowered close to his head, his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth open, his whole body tensed, and he'd stopped pawing-

"I'm gonna cum, Gabe-"

"Do it," the pup breathed in reply, and then: "-knot me-"

-and the shepherd could feel his orgasm before he moved to push deep into and tie the mutt. Gabriel shuddered and gasped when he managed it, at the same time unloading his seed deep into him - and then, the mutt came as well, spurting his own cum out in a few ropes onto the bed.

Barnett could feel all the hot tension in his body dissipate. Panting, thoroughly exhausted, he closed his eyes. "Did you - finish without-?"

"Yeah." Gabriel lowered his muzzle to the mattress and let his tongue hang out of hism outh. After a moment, he opneed his eyes to look up at the shepherd. "I stopped pawing earlier 'cause - 'cause I was close, and didn't wanna cum just yet, but..." He licked his lips. "You - pushing into me, knotting me - pushed me over. A paw on my cock would've just sped it up..."

Barnett shivered, a great pleasure running through him because - because Gabriel was his. Maybe he wasn't the first to taste his lips, maybe he wasn't the first to strip him naked and feel his tongue on him, but - he was the first to claim his tail. And, oh, did Gabe enjoy it. Both of them did. Barnett's heart still pounded in his ear, and he could feel the mutt's still-heightened pulse in the tight ring of flesh that squeezed around the base of his knot. "Gabe..."

"Shh. Tired..."

He'd never before said to the mutt - never directly, at least - 'I love you'. FOr some reason, though, Barnett felt that Gabriel knew.

~ ~ ~

It took a while for the tie between the two to loosen; when it did, the clouds had since parted for the sun, which had started to set some time earlier. Gabriel said that he'd be willing 'to go again' if he weren't so sore.

That night, Gabe crawled into bed with Barnett, and slept - as well as awoke - with the shepherd's arm around his belly and nose nuzzled into his neck. Barnett didn't have to work that day, and Gabriel said - oh, he can miss one day of work - and rolled over to face the shepherd, one finger tracing little circles around his belly button.

It was then that Barnett knew for certain. Before he'd totally cleared the fog of sleep from his eyes, he felt Gabriel press his forehead to his, and then lean forward so that their noses touched. A quick lick, which morphed into a kiss, and then another, and another...

...alexandrite eyes glimmered in the morning sunlight. Barnett was happy.