Dinner
Lyal's keen hearing caught most of the conversation between the badger and the meerkat. Truest words are spoken when thought unheard. It was an old lapine saying that he hoped was true. It was also a saying brought out when one of his species began using the nilhain (literally, "black song" or "no song") language of moving ears. The irony was not lost on him when his sister tore her forepaw away from his, moving a meter or so away from him and glaring, arms over chest, her expression one any fire-breathing dragon would be proud of.
*Lyal Evan Ruthschild!* The sharpness of her ears' movement translated as shouting. *This lendri is lying to us! There WAS someone else in here! How can you possibly trust him? Don't you remember how bad it got?*
Anger stiffened his back, curled his forepaws into fists. *No, I haven't forgotten. But YOU have! It was Frederick who carried me in his arms all the way to the hospital. It was Fredrick who found you lying near-dead in a bathtub of your own blood. Are you going to lump him with lendri? Yes, he's a badger, and he was gruff and hard to read sometimes, but that didn't mean that he didn't care. He was the only one in that household who tried to save us! How DARE you forget that?*
Lyris recoiled, partly from the words, partly from the memories. Lyal could see it in her eyes, that slow retreat inward that sometimes could last for hours, or even days. He moved toward her slowly, letting his shoulders relax, his forepaws held out to her, trying to reach her mind as well as her quivering body.
*Barton is like Frederick, Lyss. There's something in him that lets him see past what we've become, lets him see the people we were before this happened to us. He took my promise, Lyss! He made me feel like I was trustworthy again! I can't begin to tell you what that feels like. Please... just give him a chance? He could have taken me this afternoon; I wouldn't have denied him, after all he's done. He didn't do that. He went looking for you instead. He promised me he wouldn't let us get separated, just like he did in the alley a minute ago. Lyss, please...*
She didn't respond, although the look in her eyes was closer to normal again. Maybe, he thought, she wouldn't go away this time...
The sound of the old mane-dresser coming back down the hall - noisily, as if wanting to make sure that they knew it was him - made Lyal drop his arms, and both rabbits looked to the door. The badger appeared to have a pawful of takeaway menus in his forepaw. "I dinna ken if ye wanted somethin' other'n Chinese, so I brought th' lot..." His voice trailed off as he looked at the two of them, and the buck had no idea how to read the expression on his face.
After a moment, Lyris flicked a glance to her brother, then pushed past the badger into the hallway, then down the hall to the room that their host had set aside for them. He turned back to Lyal, a question on his silent muzzle that the buck still couldn't read.
Not the face, something told him, not the muzzle ... the eyes. Even Frederick couldn't conceal his eyes, unless he really worked at it. What Lyal saw in Barton's eyes was fear, but not of the kits; he was afraid he'd done something to hurt them, he was afraid they'd run again. He was afraid for their lives.
"Give her a little time," he said softly. "It's harder for her."
The honey badger nodded slowly. "Nae easy f'r you either, I'd wager." He jerked his head toward the other room. "C'mon, let's get some ideas f'r dinner. No one feels good w' an empty belly."
Walking down the short corridor, the males entered the private room, Lyal first. He glanced around, unable to spot his sister for a moment, feeling as if he'd been dumped into a Where's Waldo cartoon. After a moment, he heard the shower start up, finally noticing the shadow behind the curtain. She stepped out, fully dressed, looked pointedly at the buck, and jerked her head toward the running water.
"I think I have been summoned," the buck tried a grin. He shucked off the robe and his two shirts, wincing as he pulled them over his head. He shucked off his jeans, only dimly aware that Barton was doing his best not to look at him as he got naked. He stepped into the shower, and Lyris pulled the curtain around him. The water has just the right level of hot, to sting just a bit, and he could feel his entire body starting to relax, finally, and the warm moist air going into his lungs felt really, really good...
Barton's voice came in over the noise. "What'll ye have t' eat? There's tha' Chinese place I mentioned a'fore, a pizzeria tha' caters t' all diets an' tastes, an' a salad place that some of th' lasses like t' order from when they're on a slimmin' binge..."
"Salad will be better for us..." Lyris sounded like she didn't want to say even that much.
Lyal stuck his head, now thoroughly wet, out from behind the curtain and nodded. "Salad would be great! Anything and everything in it that they've got! I feel like I could eat a whole bushel of potatoes raw!" He gave the badger a smile, realizing in the same instant that he really felt it. He felt like smiling. How long had it been...
"Aye, then!" the badger returned. "Good sign, ye got an appetite. About time for another dose o' cold meds; take 'em w' dinner." He looked to Lyris. "Anythin' special ye'd like, missy?"
Lyris shook her head, her face still in a frown, but maybe not so severe as before. The old mane-dresser was going to have an uphill battle with her, but he seemed to be willing to try. He gathered up the menus and headed for the door. "Back in a flash," he called back. Lyal pulled the shower curtain back around himself and leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts and feelings. If he were being honest, he had no idea what might be going on, but he was warm, and getting clean, and there could be a good meal to be had. Over the past many months of his experience, that really was as good as it got. If there was a price tag attached, he could pay it. He'd done it before. They both had.
The shower curtain moved aside and Lyris, stripped bare, stepped into the shower with him. He frowned at her.
"I'm still not happy with you, Layl... but you need help bathing, you still have trouble being able to wash your headfur, and besides, I need another rinse after..." She broke off. She didn't need to add the words having to pay for your medicine, because he knew exactly what had happened. Some canine or other, his nose would have guessed; he was just glad the trick hadn't tried to tie with her. He pulled her into his embrace for a moment, saying nothing, his whiskers offering butterfly kisses to her in apology and sharing of the pains she should never have had to experience. After long moments, she broke from him and reached for the bottle of furwash, lathering her front paws and, turning him, working her way from his shoulders down his back.
The doe was as careful as she could be when she got to Lyal's ribs, but he still cried out a few times as the gentle pressure of her fingers worked at the knotted fur over the place that the broken ones still had yet to heal. She let out a little whimper of her own. "Ly-bunny... it's been nearly seven months, and these ribs are still sore. They should have healed by now."
Lyal placed his hands on the wall of the shower and let the water wash away the tears that he didn't want her to see before he pulled his head back to respond in a shaky voice. "The doctor did say they had to be bound to make sure they'd heal, and any time I hurt them, it would take longer." He did his best to push away the brutal image of the guy who thought it was funny to press in against those ribs while the buck was servicing him. So grateful, the guy huffed, you're so grateful when I stop...
Lyris reached outside of the plastic curtain to get one of the stiff-toothed combs she'd found there and used on herself earlier. She went down to her knees to better reach his hip fur on that side, her patient fingers and the comb working the fur until it was smooth and orderly once more under the rippling water. Despite the tugging and pulling, he found the attention endearing. She'd been protective and even fussy about his appearance, even before they...
"Your leg healed so much faster," she was saying. "It wasn't two months before you could actually run again. I think we need to get some of that tape stuff that you had to begin with-- oh, sorry."
She winced in response to the hiss he gave when she pulled a little too hard at a tangle. He busied himself with soaping his chest, working out his own tangles while she continued attending to his side. "We couldn't afford it, Lyss; it was that simple. We had to eat first, and to afford anything more..." He again let the thought wither away, focusing on the comforting hot water, the stubborn spot of grime in his chest fur that he finally managed to worry out with his fingers, smooth again, clean. He sighed, more of relief than anything else. "This feels so good..."
Lyris smiled up at him. "Wait till you try that conditioner... makes your fur feel soft as silk!"
He leaned back against the wall of the shower as she tended the fur on his legs, adding more of the fur soap as needed, working the comb through until he finally felt as if most of the grime had gone. He reached down to stroke her cheek fondly, his forepaw running down the side of her neck as she worked on his lower belly fur. He was relaxing completely, enjoying the sweet way that she tended to him.
The buck heard her giggle. "I think there's a bunny underneath all this grime and mess."
He felt warm and happy, and his body was having a completely natural response to the attention of the comb and her fingers on the coarser fur of his sheath. He didn't feel the slightest bit embarrassed by it. "It feels good to be warm again," he said softly.
"I know what you mean," she said. "I didn't want to get out of the shower, after I took mine." Her forepaw smoothed the fur around his sheath, clearly aware that his body was responding to the attention. She looked up at him, stroking idly, not really serious yet. "Want me to take care of this, or are you saving it, in case you can talk the old badger into letting you pay for our food?"
Lyal looked down his body at her, smiling softly. "He's not like that, Lyss; he won't let me pay him that way.
"Mmm," she hummed softly, raising herself upward on her knees. "Appetizer..." The doe bent to the self-appointed task of helping her brother to relax more completely. The warmth, the water, the sound of Lyal's low moaning, wrapped them in a cocoon of quiet that little short of an explosion could disturb...
* * * * * * * * * *
The various eateries were close enough together that Barton didn't bother phoning in the order. He stopped at the pizzaria first, put in his order, and told them he'd be back in just a few. At the salad bar, he astonished the evening shift workers when he filled two large plastic containers almost to bursting. When the high-school aged feline cashier looked at him oddly, he simply replied, "Rabbits." Racist or not, the information was accurate, and the feline simply grinned and nodded as she returned to him his change.
The small pizza wasn't quite ready yet, so Barton sat at a table near to the stone fireplace that gave the restaurant its name and waited patiently as he tried to rein in his emotions and thoughts. Part of him wanted to dash back to the salon right now, risking going hungry rather than to worry that the twins weren't still there. The simple truth was, they were or they weren't; another ten minutes either way would not change that. If they left this time, they weren't coming back.
The thought rolled a stone against his heart. Why, he wondered? Would he miss them, or was it simple guilt? He felt a stabbing in his chest as he had a passing thought of unrequited lust. Whatever else could be said about the buck, Lyal was (or at least could be) downright beautiful in so many ways, and not just physical. Or maybe he was just thinking that he could "save" the young rabbit. He snorted at the thought. There's a joke; despite the advertising campaign to the contrary, not even churches could save souls - it's all up to the individual. This was what Barton had learned from Wallace, before and after the sweet lovely meerkat had passed.
Strangely (or perhaps not), the idea crossed his mind at that moment to call Malik. It was a toss-up, in his mind, whether the desire was for someone to talk some sense into him, or someone to remind him of the person who used to talk some dreams into him. His emotions were running wild, and no wonder, given the drama of the day. In spite of himself, he thought about his fleeting view of the lad's naked body, and there was a great deal to admire of what it once was, what it could be again. Was it just youth, or loneliness, or that whole "saving" thing coming back into his brain? Was he being generous or selfish? Magnanimous or covetous? Protector or pederast?
"Order for Barton?" the Dalmatian called from behind the counter. Shaking himself from his brown study, the old badger rose to claim his dinner, and the pup rang up the charge. Barton hesitated, then asked, "Oh, I thought it might be more..."
"Senior discount," the pup said smiling.
For a moment, the badger thought about calling out the young dog's grievous assumption, but then figured that six bits was six bits, and he might as well take whatever financial breaks he could get. "Much obliged, pup," he said, and took his purchases back to the salon.
Unlocking the front door to the darkened shop, Barton turned to the sound of a gentle car horn. "Late customer, Mr. O'Mally?"
The badger turned and smiled at the young otter on the passenger side of the patrol car. "Just havin' a bite after a long day, Truman, thanks."
"Had some trouble here earlier, I heard; everything all right?"
"Just a kit pullin' a prank that got a l'il outta paw is all." Barton tried hard not to tell an outright lie; Truman had been helpful on many occasions, including taking a moment to make sure all was well for him. "You know how Una can take on if'n she gets a bee in her bonnet."
The office rolled his eyes just enough to share the sentiment but still stay respectful and grinned. "Just making sure. Have a good evening."
Barton sketched off a tiny salute and went inside the shop. He made a note to himself to remember that Truman could be a help in future. Cop, yes, but a good feller above all; he'd bend a rule if it were the right thing to do. For now, best not to involve him. He looked around the darkened front room, saw everything was in order, then took the bags of food toward the back, unsure what he'd find. He paused at the door and knocked softly. "Lyal? Lyris? I've got dinner for ye, may I come in?"
He waited a few moments more but no answer came from behind the door. As gently as he could, he pushed it open on its near-silent hinges. He could hear the shower, so either one of them was still in there, or they'd left it running when they'd disappeared, and that latter didn't seem likely. Looking around carefully, he noticed a pile of clothing on the floor - all that Lyal had been wearing, as well as Lyris' skirt and the shirt and legwarmers she'd been wearing. Where they both in the shower? He moved to the counter and set out the food, a frown on his face. That seemed the most logical conclusion; their backpacks were both sitting where they'd left them before he went to get the food. The buck was injured in some way, he'd already determined that; maybe he needed help washing...
The badger's rounded ears flicked as he heard something over the sound of the rushing water - a low, pleased moan. His eyes widened a little, and he turned toward the thin layer of opaque plastic that covered all and concealed nothing. Two shadows formed in the light against the off-white curtain, both lean, one backed against the wall, the other hunched much lower, and moving... Another moan sounded, this one clearly Lyal - there was a bit of a rattle in the way it came out, and it was followed by a slight cough.
Barton ducked back through the door, his cheeks burning, his mind churning in multiple directions at once. Surely it was that simple: The buck was merely enjoying the shower in the way that a lot of young males did, himself included (he tried to remember when he was that young). That was the old joke, wasn't it? "A pup and his paw... it's a beautiful thing." Regardless of species, it's something that most, if not all, males discover and revel in often, throughout life.
But where was Lyris?
_ Twin shadows..._
That was where his brain lurched and skidded, tried desperately not to go. It simply wasn't done! (Why?) He'd heard about such things, even read about fantasies or perhaps even realities where siblings, particularly twins, experimented with each other. "Twincest," that's the word that the randy mags gave it, and it was just plain wrong! (Why?) Family members loved each other, but not like that. It wasn't allowed. Think of the risks of pregnancy - the genetic issues alone, much less the scandalous, horrid, tawdry, unthinkable... (Why?)
Somewhere in his mind, Barton saw an entire panoply of saints, martyrs, priests, teachers, all waving holy items and sacred books, all rebelling at the mere idea, much less the actuality going on only meters away. Even touching yourself was a Holy No-No, and Father Francis was hiding behind the curtain, completely buggering the idea of anonymity during confession when he called you by name because he recognized your voice, and for all you knew, he wanted to get you to tell all the details so he'd have new ammunition for himself later on, and oh bugger what the hell...!
Drawing a deep breath, Barton did his best to let his emotions cool. This wasn't the time for moral arguments. Whatever else might be true, he still had to convince these kits to trust him, and barging in like the Church Police wasn't going to help. They hadn't heard his knock, so they wouldn't know that he'd found them... together. It still made his fur twitch in terrible ways, but that wasn't the most important thing right now. Whatever made them do this - desperation, abuse, perversion from the adults in their sordid lives - it wasn't the issue right now. They needed help and protection, they needed a fair start, a way to get them back to something like a normal life, if that were even possible for such...
Such what, love? Disgusting perverts?_Wallace's voice never left him, and it reached out now with tender yet quite specifically pointed claws. _Wasn't that what you thought of yourself, just an hour or so ago? Is that really what it is? My lovely badger... what if it's just the only love they have left in the world? Regardless of how they discovered it, what if it's just the only way that they have to feel safe together? You remember love, don't you? I haven't been gone that long...
The thought rattled the old badger from tip to tail, making him lean against the wall, trying to recover his mind. Yes, he had looked at the young buck, just as he had kissed the young buck, and it wasn't like that, it wasn't sick and perverted, it wasn't trying to wield power or take from the helpless, it wasn't trying to control or belittle or degrade, it was...
It's okay, Barton. You can use the word. You haven't, have you... not since I left. And you don't want to mistake it for something less than the Everything that we had, but it's still a good word, and a good feeling, and as long as it's true, nothing else matters. You know that. Out of all the garbage that the world religions spit out at us, the only thing - the ONLY thing that truly matters - is love. God IS love. The rest is zealotry, fronted by fragmented and frightened people trying to pretend that they know all, judge all, and control all. Don't be afraid to help these two. Don't be afraid to open your heart, just a little, and help them.
He felt his breathing slow a little, felt his heart turn over, felt gratitude for having been able to share life with such a wise and loving mate for as long as they'd had together. And it had been so long since they had planned... planned and worked for and prepared for and applied...
Barton came to a conclusion, brought in no small part by his rumbling stomach. It was more than past time for dinner. He would knock louder; give them a chance to keep their private matters private. Of course... it wouldn't be fair to interrupt anything...?
The sheer audaciousness of the thought made him laugh, long and full. Twincest interruptus? Had he graduated in his thinking so quickly? No... but he'd never been one to forgo a good laugh when it was merited.
"Well then," he muttered to himself through a grin. "No way to know, but dinner can't always wait for certainty, now can it?"
He turned back to the door, hesitated only a moment. He remembered to thank his truest saint of all for reminding him that love was the important thing, and the most valuable asset that he could give. No judgments. He inhaled deeply, knocked hard and firm, merrily calling out, "Dinnertime, kitlings - all right if I come in?"