Swiss’d waited until Aeon came home from tour before even thinking about adopting her. He’d video called countless times while they were apart, Eclipse sleeping peacefully on his chest, and Swiss had watched Aeon’s eyes soften every time they looked at her. Swiss thanks the Prince every single day that they’d fallen in love with her too. When she’d opened her eyes, they’d named her together.

Every single member of the pack loves the little kit just as much as Swiss and Aeon do, bickering among themselves about who gets to watch her when Swiss is on duty with Frater and Aeon is working in the infirmary. Taking care of Eclipse had been a packwide affair from the moment Swiss had introduced her to them.

Mountain watches the two of them, keeping a mental eye on the clock, knowing that Swiss’s shift is about to end, and he’ll be home soon. It had been difficult, to say the least, when he’d returned to work after a leave of absence after the official adoption papers had gone through. But he’d promised her he’d always be back for her, that he wouldn’t leave her for the world, and he hasn’t proven himself wrong yet.

“Oh, look at that,” Rain coos as Eclipse grabs a different marker. “Is that the pack, sweet girl?”

Eclipse looks up at him and beams just like her father, her silver and gold eyes shining in the afternoon light. “Yeah! S’for Daddy and Ren.”

Rain smiles fondly, smoothing a hand over top of her hair, tied back in twists that end in little lavender and gold beads. They rattle and clink gently whenever she moves her head. “They’re gonna love it,” he says.

As if on cue, all three ghouls’ ears perk up at the sound of approaching bootsteps. Mountain sits up a little straighter, old, vigilant habits never put to rest. Rain’s fingers slowly curl into the back of Eclipse’s shirt, ready to pull her behind him. Eclipse, however, doesn’t pick up on the older ghouls’ apprehensions, attention split between her drawing and whoever’s at the door.

Keys rattle in the lock. Rain and Mountain hold their breaths.

The door swings open and a ghoul steps into the den. Mountain relaxes with a relieved huff as Eclipse beams, gasping and jumping to her feet with a peal of laughter. Her stubby little tail wags behind her so fast it’s a blur. “Daddy!”

Swiss pulls off his helmet, setting it aside just in time to have his legs tackled by a toddling kit. He bends and scoops her up, groaning as his back protests slightly. “Hi, baby girl,” he laughs. “Lucifer, you’re getting big, huh? You used to fit in the palm of one of my hands.”

Eclipse shakes her head, sending the beads in her hair clinking against each other. “Nuh-uh,” she giggles.

“Yeah-huh,” he teases. “Uncle Aef has the pictures.”

Eclipse sticks her face into the crook of Swiss’s neck, and he adjusts her in his arms. Rain watches him visibly relax the longer he has his kit, a big hand in the center of her back to keep her balanced. “How’s my sweetheart? What’d you do with Uncle Mo and Rain?”

Rain smiles fondly as Eclipse pulls back to babble to Swiss about her day. “Watched the puppy show, an’ Uncle Mo made sandwiches, an’ me an’ Rain are drawing pictures.”

“Oh? That sounds fun, baby, you wanna show me?”

Swiss sets her down, and he lets Eclipse wrap her chubby fingers around one of his own and nearly drag him over to the coffee table. Rain scoots to the side to make room for the whirlwind of force. “See, Daddy?”

Swiss kneels at the edge of the table, watching as Eclipse paws at a sheet of paper. Rain subtly pushes it towards her, helping her grab it. “Oh, look at that, Clip. Is that us?”

She beams, showing him the array of stick figures drawn in every color under the sun. “S’me and you and Ren,” she points at the figures in the center, drawn in lavender and yellow and brown. She points to the tallest one. “S’Uncle Mo.”

Swiss laughs, kissing her temple. “Yeah, dunno who else it would be, baby.” A stick figure, shorter than the rest and drawn in bright orange, catches his eye, and Swiss cackles. “Who’s that, is that Aunt Rory?”

“No!” Eclipse giggles along, showing the gap between her front teeth. “S’Uncle Dew!”

“You did such a good job drawing us, baby. I’m gonna hang this up in our room for Ren when they get home.” Swiss nuzzles into the side of her head, breathing in her sweet apple scent.

“Daddy, when’s Ren comin’ home?” She asks, kicking up into a quiet little purr as her father scents her.

“They’re with Uncle Aef right now, helping people feel better. They’ll both be home in time for dinner, okay?”

She hums, pouting a little. Rain reaches up and rubs her shoulder. “They’ll be back before you know it, sweetheart,” he says. Mountain makes a noise of agreement.

Eclipse whines softly. “Want Ren too,” she mumbles, nuzzling fiercely against Swiss. He hums, rubbing her back.

“I know, baby. How about we go take a nap in the nook, and by the time you wake up, Ren will be home.”

She pulls back, metallic eyes bright and wide at the mention of the nook underneath her parents’ hearth. If Eclipse had it her way, all three of them would sleep in there every night. Unfortunately for her, sleeping on the floor more often than not is hell on Swiss’s back despite the large volume of blankets and pillows shoved under there, so they do their best to compromise. “P’ease, Daddy?”

He smiles and kisses her cheek, hauling her back into his arms. “Of course, Clip. Can you say bye to Uncle Mount and Uncle Rain?”

She waves, settling happily into Swiss’s arms as he stands. Rain hands him the picture she’d drawn as he too gets to his feet. “Bye!”

“Thank you for watching her,” Swiss whispers, presses his forehead to Rain’s.

“We’re more than happy to, edelweiss,” Mountain smiles.

He smiles back before leaving the common room, making his way to his and Aeon’s room. Swiss takes a deep breath once he crosses the threshold, relaxing as his mate’s scent, baked into everything here, hits him.

Eclipse squirms a little in his arms, and he tosses her gently onto the mattress to make her squeal with laughter as she hits the blankets and pillows. It’s contagious, and Swiss smiles wide enough to make his eyes crinkle.

“Alright, Clip. How about you get Miss Kitty and pick out a book, and Daddy will read it to you once he gets changed?” he prompts gently, and Eclipse’s eyes go wide. She nods, the beads in her hair rattling, and she clambers out of her parents’ nest to grab those items from their bookshelf.

Swiss smiles as she toddles off, a little girl on a mission, and unclips his cape. He tosses it into the hearth, knowing exactly where it will wind up later. He ducks into the bathroom to wash up quick and change into a soft, worn shirt and sweats. When he comes back out, the only reason he knows Eclipse hasn’t snuck out of the room is her soft, giggling laughter and the bed skirt along the edge of the hearth not quite sitting right.

He sighs fondly. It’s a bit of a struggle to get to his knees, back protesting, but he crawls under his bed without complaint. Anything for his little girl.

She’s already made herself comfortable in the copious pillows and blankets that make up this secret nest. There’s a floppy tabby cat plushie clutched in her arms, well-loved and worn. Once upon a time, when Swiss had first met her, the cat had been twice her size.

Eclipse has the newly unfurled spade of her tail tucked between her lips, nuzzling into the blankets with her parents’ scents baked in. She looks half asleep already.

“You comfy, baby?” He smiles as her eyes shoot open and she nods. Swiss crawls up behind her and tucks her against his chest. Eclipse melts into it. He reaches over and flicks on the string of lights, casting soft yellow light throughout the nook, just enough to read by.

“Mhm,” she mumbles, reaching with her little hand for the picture book she’d picked out. Swiss takes in the bright, primary colors painted on the cover, recognizing one of her favorites.

“Oh, good choice, sweetheart.” He flips the book open in front of her so they can both see. “Maisy is visiting Charley today. Hello, Charley. Hello, Maisy.”

As he reads, Swiss can feel his daughter relax and droop against him, and he doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s fallen asleep by the time he finishes the story. He sets the book aside, and she turns in her sleep so her face presses against Swiss’s chest, crushing Miss Kitty between them.

Swiss kisses between the little nubs of her horns, wrapping his tail around her and settling into the blankets. He hates to admit it, but he follows her to sleep, warm and comfortable and safe with one of the most precious things that’s ever happened to him.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but his ear twitches at the sound of a camera shutter. Swiss cracks one golden eye open, arms tightening around Eclipse, but he relaxes as Aeon puts their phone away.

“Hey, buggy,” he says, voice low and raspy with sleep.

“Hey,” they say, smiling brightly, tail wagging idly behind them. “How’s the fruit bat?”

“She had a good day,” he says, carding fingers through her twists gently. “Wants her Ren, of course.”

“Well, I’m here now,” they shrug, settling into the nook behind her. They chuff happily as they kiss the crown of their daughter’s head. “Cirr and Dew just started on dinner. But we can stay here until then, they say an hour.”

Swiss smiles at them, unwrapping one arm from around Eclipse, who shifts and huffs a little in her sleep, and wrapping it around Aeon, hauling them in a little closer. Something deep and instinctual settles and calms when his mate’s body covers Eclipse’s back, the little ghoulette safe and protected by her parents.

Aeon watches him for a moment, long, thin fingers reaching over her to brush a braid out of Swiss’s face. It’s tender and soft, and Swiss smiles back at them, still halfway in the haze of sleep.

“You two are the best things that have ever happened to me,” he whispers, holding them both close.

Aeon snorts. “Sap.”

“It’s true and you know it.”

They roll their eyes playfully, leaning over Eclipse to kiss Swiss sweetly. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Now, let’s nap before Miss Fruit Bat wakes up and chatters your ear off.”

“And whose daughter is she?” Aeon teases, but settles into the nest, tail slinging over Swiss’s hip. He entwines his own around theirs.

Though I believe there's a dedicated nursery staff in the abbey, I think they always welcome and encourage volunteers to come hang out so the babies can socialize with all kinds of different people! Swiss is one of the ghouls regularly assigned to work nursery shifts when things slow down a bit for the band, but the rest of the time I think he visits voluntarily because he likes it.

Overall, I think Swiss is super great with kids of all ages. He's got deep wells of energy and patience, and though he of course loves playtime, he also actively enjoys most elements of caretaking! Keeping everyone fed, clean, and cozy can be fun too! He helps with everyone, but his most favorite group to spend time with? The toddlers.

Ghoul kits becoming ambulatory is... interesting! Like many human babies, they typically start with some scooting and then get into crawling. But, I think ghoul kits stay in the crawling phase for much longer than humans. After all, they have those pesky tails to figure out, too! Switching to walking on two legs is so hard when everyone is cheering for you, and that's exciting so your tail starts wagging, and then you're thrown off balance, and then you're on the floor, and yeah that's annoying, so maybe you should cry about it... or stick to moving around on four limbs because it's way faster anyway! Practicing moving around on four legs for a while longer lets them build up their little hip and ab muscles, especially while their tail moves around with their emotions.

But just...

Swiss on his knees behind one of the kits who is so close to figuring out walking upright on their own. He's got an arm on either side of the little one, hands just in front of them. The kit is little bitty tiny, maybe air, so even though they're using their whole entire hands, their little grip doesn't quite extend all the way around even one of Swiss' fingers.

Swiss has propped up one of their favorite toys, a big plush bear almost the same size as the kit, against an armchair just a few feet away.

"You see your bear-bear, baby?" Swiss coos, bouncing his hands a bit to jiggle the kit's arms.

The kit is shrieking in delight, little tail lashing around and whacking into Swiss' stomach. Their giggles are infectious, and Swiss' face aches from the strength of his smile.

"I know, baby! Should we go get your bear??" Swiss moves his arms just a smidge forward, gently encouraging the kit to take a step.

Their chubby little leg jerks forward a bit awkwardly, but with a confidence that sends Swiss' heart soaring. This kit had been one of the more shy, timid babies when they had come into the abbey's care. They rarely smiled, much less laughed, just taking in the world around them with big eyes and arms held tight to their chest. They'd arrived during a busier time of year for the band ghouls, but Swiss had met and interacted with them enough times to see the remarkable change in their energy. He made a mental note to shower kisses on the nursery ghouls specializing in infant care.

"Yes! Well done, my darling!" Swiss cheers, scooting along on his knees behind the kit. They're taking strong, only slightly wobbly steps toward the bear. "Go get bear-bear! He wants a hug!"

Swiss squirms a finger out of the kit's grip, but they maintain their awkward forward momentum with only one finger to hold. They're practically bouncing as they lurch toward their bear, bright laughter filling the room.

When the kit finally makes it to the plush toy, they let go of Swiss and flop onto its round belly, giggling and nuzzling into its neck. Swiss claps and hollers for the kit, cheering and celebrating their hard won victory.

"You did it, my love!" He coos, rubbing the kit's back. His heart melts over how tiny they are, his hand spanning the entirety of their torso. "I'm so proud of you! You're getting so strong!"

The kit flails a little bit but is quickly turned back around to face Swiss, a huge grin lighting up their face. They only laugh harder when they see him, the big, gasping laughs that they nearly choke on.

"I know, baby! Aren't you cl-"

The words catch in Swiss's throat as the kit pulls themselves up on their feet, a bit wobbly, but notably standing up with no outside support. He watches on, breathless, as they hold their tail out behind them, mostly still, and put their arms out to the side for balance. They take one tiny step, and then another, stuttering laughs breaking through their sudden and intense focus.

Swiss holds his hands out toward the kit, ready to catch them, but otherwise not interfering. They take only two more steps before their toe catches on the rug and they go lurching forward, but instantly Swiss is scooping them up and jumping to his feet.

"You did it!" He cries, dancing around while holding the kit on his hip, "You walked all by yourself!" As he whirls around, the kit in his arms matches his joy with their shrieks. "Oh, clever baby!"

Swiss stops spinning around to pull the kit up onto his chest so he can nuzzle under their chin and around their neck, scenting them thoroughly. He's purring so hard his chest hurts, but he's just so overwhelmed he can't help it. When the kit starts a cooing purr through their laughs, Swiss starts kissing and play-nibbling over their face and hair, making gobbling sounds as he goes.

"What a sweet little kit," he says between kisses, "I think I'm going to have to eat you up! I don't have much time left, soon you're going to be able to run away!"

An exaggerated gasp from the door has Swiss turning on his heel to find one of the main infant through toddler caretakers making their way in, a snack for the kit in hand. When the kit sees them they're instantly squirming and screeching in delight and reaching for their caretaker, and Swiss happily hands them over.

"Don't worry baby, I've got you now! I won't let Swiss eat you!"

And because Swiss is a deeply sentimental ghoul he is going to immediately detail what just happened and he is going to start crying about seeing a kit's first steps and generally just be gooey about it and you cannot change my mind!!! Aaaah!!

Dissociation is often a defense mechanism that starts in childhood.  For a totally random example: If one night five armed strangers broke into your house, shot your dad, burned your mother alive in front of you, forced you to eat her heart, and then spent a day burning you with a hot iron, you might start dissociating!  It’s funny, really.  Like your body tells your soul, Hey pal, no hard feelings if you don’t wanna stick around for this.  And it is soul rather than mind; Your mind is stuck down there with the rest of you trying to make sense of things and keep you alive.

But you aren’t there.

Whatever you really are.

His body and mind reacted just as they needed to when Ren took Kit down to the basement and tortured him.  When beautiful Ren took Kit down to the basement and tortured him.  When Ren with whom Kit had fallen in love took Kit down to the basement and tortured him.  When sad, lonely, sweet, smart, gentle Ren, Ren who cheered Kit up when he was sad about stupid things on the internet, who smelled like soap and clean water and who was the only, only, only other fox Kit had ever met after they all died, they all died, they all died, they all died—

--took Kit down to the basement and tortured him.  Kit screamed in all the right places.  He cowered.  He apologized profusely, crying.  He said he loved Ren, that he was sorry, he’d just been scared all his life and he never felt safe and his feelings were all fucked up and he loved Ren, he loved him the moment he met him, but he was scared.  So scared.

All of that was true.

Understanding dawned on Ren: Kit really was fucked up.  And that satisfied him.  Kit wasn’t trying to withhold his love at all; he was just twisted up inside.  And now, of course, Ren knew a way to fix things.  He knew how to get Kit’s real, true feelings out of him.  And he’d do it again, and again, and again—

You don’t know that.

Yes I do.

You don’t know what Ren was thinking.

He kept hurting me.  Even after I started screaming.  It wasn’t just the screams he wanted.  He said it has to be like this.

Maybe it won’t happen again.

If someone tortures you once, they’ll do it forever.

I knew what would happen if I was caught.

I let him catch me.

I deserve this.

“Kit?”  Ren calls softly.  His voice is so lovely.  A head raises itself from the couch cushion, and eyes peer in the direction of the voice.

“Christopher Kirillovich Shiponikov,” a mouth says.  From far away, Kit screams in frustration.  Ren looks a little taken aback, even though he didn’t hear the scream.

“Um… what?”

“Nothing,” Kit hears himself say.  Head lies down, eyes close.  “S-sorry. I’m—I’m still—”

“Shh…” Ren pads over to the couch.  “Everything’s OK.”  He smiles more deliberately.  He’s trying to be reassuring.  “Can I sit next to you?  I thought you might be getting a little lonely.”

It then occurs to Kit that he has no idea when, exactly, he got where he is—on Ren’s couch, shrouded in blankets that smell like fancy, environmentally friendly laundry detergent. He gets lost a moment, considering the smell.  It smells a little like Ren (but without the blood underneath).  Eyes dart upward, watching Ren furtively.  Kit doesn’t remember how long ago the basement was.  He doesn’t know how long he’s been lying here in Ren’s living room, alone.  But he does understand that apparently Ren has been… giving him space.

You know, the kind of thing you do for someone who’s had a bad day.  

Bad night.  

What even is time.

A mouth says, “Please don’t leave me alone,” and Ren’s smile turns tender.  His eyes shine.

“Just—scoot over a little, OK?  No, other way—shh, shh... it’s OK, I’m just gonna sit here… and you can put your head down here… that’s right…”  All Ren’s movements are slow, careful—telegraphed.  He’s treating Kit just the way you’d treat a wounded animal, working to be as unthreatening as possible.

I wish he’d kill me like that.  All gentle and sweet while I bleed out.  He’d hold me, and pet me, and tell me everything was OK.  I’d believe him.  It would be like going to sleep again after a bad dream.  It would be a nice way to die.

A head has ended up in Ren’s lap.  Ren is petting him now, Kit realizes, but not killing him.  Ren could.  His hands are delicate and warm and soft, but there are claws.  Claws just like Kit has.  But the funny thing is that even claws can be gentle.  Ren scratches gingerly, carding through Kit’s hair.  Ren makes a quiet, pleased noise; he must like the way it feels.  Kit sighs and shifts his head (like dogs do dogs do that fucking dogs) so that Ren can tell where he really wants to be scratched.  Ren laughs a little, and focuses on the spot at the back of Kit’s head just to the side and above the nape of his neck.  Kit makes a soft sound in his throat.  When Ren withdraws his hand he manages to restrain a noise of disappointment, and then Ren starts petting his ears.

It’s been so, so long (fourteen years) since anyone’s done this for him.  He never even let Mei Cai do it, and she was willing.  Sometimes he’d try to do it for himself, but of course it’s not the same, and usually made him feel worse.  Sometimes even nauseous, if he kept at it.  His mom and dad and even his sister used to do it from time to time, when he was sitting in someone’s lap or about to go to sleep.  And there was…

A brow furrows.

There was a sound, wasn’t there?  A sound that went with it, with the petting.  Why would there be a sound?  His mind is frustratingly sluggish.  Maybe he’s about to go to sleep.

Wait.  No.

Fear.  Fear is making it hard to think.  But it’s detached.  In his mind, not his body.

Terror.

Why?  The body is safe.  The body is comfortable.

What is…

Oh.

The sound.

Kit is… purring.

He’s pressed close to Ren.  Ren had stopped a moment, shocked by the noise, but he picked up petting again readily.  He’s murmuring something again, but Kit can’t focus, not with his mind, body, nor soul.  It hasn’t been so long since Kit last purred; he purred the first night he met Ren, when he got down on his knees and let Ren touch his ears, feel that they were real after Ren had let Kit feel that Ren’s ears were real.  When all he knew was happiness and a strange, sweet apprehension.

I knelt to you, Ren.

Was that too much?

Was that not enough?

A sigh slips out of him, and Kit purrs and purrs for Ren.  For Ren, whom he loves.  For Ren who hurt him.  For Ren who will hurt him again, surely.  For broken Ren who, shyly, hesitantly, begins to purr back.  They are together.  They are warm.  And they are happy.  This is happiness.  You can be happy even when you’re in despair.  Kit knows this. 

Kit doesn’t know how long it lasts.

Kit  doesn’t want it to stop.

The fear goes away, and there’s a pleasant numbness.

Kit is lost.

But eventually, Ren moves away a little.  Kit makes a scared noise, and Ren makes low, reassuring sounds in response.

“Hey, hey... it’s OK.  I’m not going far.  I just have to get up to make dinner,” Ren tells him, “Remember?  You can eat it here with me, don’t worry.  But all you’ve had today is popcorn, right?”

Is that right?  Eyes cast around.  There’s an empty bowl at one end of the couch, still smelling of butter.  Oh.  Ren must have brought that to him earlier.  He must have eaten.

He forgot.

“Did I…” he hears himself say, “Did... I say thank-you for feeding me?”

“You did,” Ren says, smiling, “Don’t worry.  But we’ve gotta get some real food into you, to make you feel better.  Popcorn’s tasty, but it’s mostly air.”

Kit gets confused about time again when Ren leaves.  He’s not sure how long it took Ren to say that last sentence: ‘Popcorn’s tasty, but it’s mostly air.’

Mostly air.

Mostly air.

Like me.

That little voice sounds so flat.  It’s hardly even sad.  But it rings in his ears, trapped in his head.  Mostly air.  Like me. I’m mostly air.  No anchor.  Cut and burned away.  Mostly air.  I’m mostly air.  Not a person.  Just a dream.  Nothing left.  Mostly air.

Can you tell, Ren? Can you tell how much of myself I’ve lost?  No. Why would you?  It doesn’t show.  And maybe… maybe there’s nothing to show.  Maybe I never had any self to begin with.  Maybe it was all mostly air.  Maybe I’d only fooled myself into thinking I was real.  Maybe I’m my own bad dream.  But will you notice when even that is gone, Ren?  When all that’s left is a soft, hollow thing that clings to you and tells you you are loved?

Bet he’d like that, spits a much crueler, nastier voice, Bet he wants that.  Bet he’ll be fucking happy.  No person, just a good fucking dream.

Mostly air.

But that’s not true.  Kit knows it’s not.  Ren would be hurt if he understood what had happened.  Ren would be sad.  Ren would be upset, maybe he’d even regret what he’d done.  But only if he could tell, and Kit…

Kit doesn’t think Ren can.  He hopes Ren can’t.  He wants Ren to be happy.  He loves Ren.  Maybe all there really is to him is love for Ren.  That’s a nice thought.

Kit has forgotten all this by the time Ren comes back, or maybe he forgets it because Ren comes back.  He feels a little realer when Ren comes back.

Of course he would.

He’s Ren’s good dream.

Ren helps Kit sit up. He’s set a tray on the coffee table in front of the couch, and he looks so hopeful.  He’s arranged an elegant meal: There are strawberries, there’s a little rice, there’s some yakitori, and dipping sauces, and besides all that off to the side is a blood-red dish of raw flesh.

Raw hearts.  A mouth smiles.

“Never… never met anybody who liked chicken hearts but me,” Kit says softly.  Ren’s smile is bright and beautiful, the sharpness of his teeth soothingly familiar.

“I love chicken hearts! They’re hard to get fresh, but they’re up there with mac & cheese and dango.  Ah, I’m so glad you like them too!  I thought you might~”  He presses a quick kiss to the corner of kit’s mouth.  That feels good.  Kit blushes a little.

His cuts still sting when he moves the wrong way.  His shoulder aches where the nail went in.

“The yakitori is chicken heart, too.  I can make something else quick if you want more variety, but I thought it might be fun to decide which we like better~”

“Yes,” Kit hears himself say.  He picks a raw chicken heart first, holding it delicately in his claws.  He wants to taste blood.  He wants it to fill him up.  Ren keeps talking, and Kit is sorry, so sorry, but it’s hard to hear him.  It’s OK, though.  Ren doesn’t mind repeating himself.  He’s just so glad to have Kit.

***

“Thomas Moore was a very important man,” Kit’s mother told him, “A very important poet.  Your father sometimes likes to tease me by mixing him up with the man who stood up to Henry the Eighth, but it’s just teasing.”

“Is he your favorite poet?”  Kit had asked.  He had been watching her prepare a very minor talisman—a piece of pig’s knucklebone, carved and painted blue and red.  He hadn’t thought to ask her what it did.  He hadn’t known she’d be dead in a few months.  She touched her lips longwise with her index finger, thinking.

“I’m not sure he’s my favorite poet,” she said, “But he did write my favorite poem.”

***

No flower of her kindred,

No rosebud is nigh,

To reflect back her blushes,

Or give sigh for sigh…

***

It really is a beautiful day: The sun is shining and the birds are singing, and all that.  Mostly of course they’re sparrows—this is the city park, not a zoo.  They twitter to themselves in the bushes alongside the path, occasionally hopping out to bathe in puddles.  Kit loves the sunny days that immediately follow rain, as long as it’s not too humid. There’s a breeze today that smells of petrichor and damp vegetation.

“S’funny,” Kit muses, “I never wanted to eat birds.”  Ren looks up at him quizzically.

“Should I not bring home so much chicken?”

“Huh?  Oh, no.  Chicken is fine.  I guess I meant more like… little birds.  Wild ones. It’s just funny, because I could go for a squirrel right now.”  On cue, one that had been inspecting them darts up a tree.  “I dunno.  I don’t look at them and see food like I do with other animals.”  He smiles softly.  “My mum really liked little birds.  Used to hex any hawk that would come to our feeder.”

Ren’s brow furrows just slightly.  Kit’s worried he’s said something wrong.  Invisibly, he snakes his tail around the little fox’s leg. Ren takes hold of kit’s hand and smiles reassuringly.

“It’s just… the hawks need food, too.  That’s all I was thinking about.”

“Fair enough,” Kit says, “But Mum’s feeder was for the little birds.”

Ren says he understands, and Kit knows it’s the truth.

***

No child should know what his mother’s heart tastes like.  He shouldn’t know what her burning flesh smells like.  Kit knows. Now and then he’s thought about finding some other witch to take away his memories, but it’s too frightening to contemplate seriously.  What is life, but a collection of things recalled?  Perhaps things anticipated.

Kit knows that some people live only in the moment—the sensations of now, the joy and pain of the present.  Kit has watched those people long enough that he can fake being one. But always he is unfocused in time… or he used to be. 

Ren helps to stay when and where he is.

***

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!

To pine on the stem;

Since the lovely are sleeping,

Go, sleep thou with them…

***

Ren admitted to feeling a bit peckish himself.  Kit had laughed, called him my little sparrow, and Ren had blushed so prettily.  Was he a sparrow, or was he a rose?

“Not letting any hawk take you from me,” Kit had gone on to say, and he hadn’t been sure that was the right thing to say, but Ren still looked happy. Ren always seemed to understand when Kit was trying to say I love you, no matter how he said it.

“There’s a farm stand I know about,” Ren says, “I haven’t been there, but I see advertisements for it sometimes.  It’s a little bit of a drive, but if you wouldn’t mind… I mean, you did say you were already hungry, so if you’d like something quicker…”

A human onlooker would see Kit give Ren a kiss on the head.  What he actually does is gently catch the tip of his velvet-soft ear between his lips.  Ren squeaks, but it’s a happy squeak.

“Dad always said hunger’s the best seasoning,” Kit said, “So long as you do the driving, I’d love to go.”

***

The first time they left the house together, it was just to sit in the yard.  That had still taken a little bit of mental preparation on both their parts.  It was hard enough back in the days of the collar when one of them left the house.  Kit hasn’t yet asked how Ren felt, but Kit had had a half-entertained fear that Ren would suddenly… bolt.  That he’d be up over the hedge and gone, that Kit would run but not be able to catch him.  Nightmare logic.

What happened was that they sat on the swinging patio chair together, watching the leaves in an old pair oak trees that had been in the yard since before Strade.  Ren told Kit that Strade used to help the neighbors rake up any leaves that fell on their lawns, forestalling any complaint they might have about the trees.  He liked those trees, Ren said.  Liked raking, liked cleaning leaves out of the gutter.  Kit had, for the first time in his life, felt something like approval toward the old corpse.  He hadn’t liked the feeling.  But then Ren had wrapped his tail around Kit, and Kit wrapped his tail around Ren.  Strade was gone, but the trees were still here.

***

Thus kindly I scatter,

Thy leaves o'er the bed,

Where thy mates of the garden

Lie scentless and dead…

***

It’s a bit more than a farmstand, it turns out: It’s an actual farm with an actual little storefront. You’ve got your nice big requisite cornfield, and a lot of turkeys.  There’s a pen for them out front in addition to the farm itself, presumably so people can see what kind of thing they’d be eating.  Or, Kit muses, because people like animals even if they are going to eat them.

“There’s a series the BBC puts out,” Kit says, “About farming in different time periods in Britain. It’s not always the same people working every time, except for a historian named Ruth Goodman.  Anyway, they’re actually farming, you know? Raising animals and everything.”

“So they slaughter them eventually,” Ren says.  They’re both watching the turkeys with moderate interest, listening to the noises they make.  “Or else it’s not actually farming.  That’s what you mean?”

“Mmhm,” Kit says. Trust Ren to work that out by himself.  “Well.  It depends.  They don’t always personally, I don’t think.  But they do send them to be slaughtered, and sometimes they do dress the carcasses.  I remember one guy plucking some kind of poultry, anyway.  But it’s funny: They do get fond of the animals.  They name them and all.  During their Wartime Farm series, they had a pig named Snowflake.  She had piglets.  They still ate her in the end, just they felt sad about it.  And I just…” He’s quiet for a moment.  Ren looks up curiously.

“Just…?”

“Well, I’d have worked harder not to get attached.  Wouldn’t have named any of the animals.  I never did that sort of thing with rats, you know?  I wouldn’t want a bond with something I was going to—” he stops himself.  Sometimes he’s not sure how much of Strade’s philosophy lingers in his mate.  Ren looks over the turkeys with a sad little smile.

“I might have named the rats,” Ren says.  “If I was lonely enough.”  He looks down. “But you’re right.  It’s… a funny thing to do.  If you don’t have to.”

Kit’s tail had wrapped around Ren before he even finished the sentence.  Ren’s tail wraps back.  Kit closes his eyes, cursing himself.  He kisses the top of Ren’s head—for real this time, not an illusion—and Ren sighs, pressing upward.

It’s still a beautiful day. The sun is warm, and the wind is gentle. Soft clouds meander through the sky like sheep on a field of blue.

“Fuck normality,” Kit murmurs into Ren’s hair, “Let’s get sandwiches.”

***

There is so much pain in Ren.  There is so much pain in Kit.  Both of them wake up screaming now and then, but not every night.  That is important.  And it’s important that, when Kit awakens from a nightmare of Ren standing over him with The Knife and a red-hot poker, he can find comfort in the reality of Ren’s warm embrace.  In turn, Ren has confided that sometimes he has nightmares about Kit, screaming and sobbing as he cuts.  And yet when Ren awakes he clings to Kit, buries his face in his chest, breathes him in.

“You shouldn’t love me,” Kit had told him one night.  It had been a terrible thing to say to a boy who was looking for comfort, but it came out of Kit like blood from a nicked artery. “Not if I give you dreams like that. You should—” But Ren’s mouth was on his, hot and desperate before he could go on, and oh, Kit was grateful. Ren very deliberately bit Kit’s lip, and Kit shivered as Ren lapped at his blood.  Ren pulled back, tears in his eyes but smiling.

“I’ve always had nightmares,” Ren said, “But I never had you before.”

And he’d bitten his own lip, nicked it with a fang, and pressed his mouth to Kit’s again.

***

So soon may I follow,

When friendships decay,

And from Love's shining circle

The gems drop away….

***

They’d driven around with a pleasant aimlessness after they’d eaten.  It was good to be outside together.  Kit admitted, more bashfully than was seemly, that he’d always liked car trips, so long as he wasn’t driving.  Driving made him nervous, for various reasons, but he liked being able to just… move through the world.  Take things in as they passed by.   Ren smiled, and said he was glad to be able to do something that made Kit happy.

Afternoon stretched into evening.  They wander home past fields and woodlands and lakes.  This country hasn’t been truly wild in hundreds of years, but at least they’re far enough from the city lights to see the stars.  Ren asks Kit if he’d like to get out and take a better look at the sky, and Kit tells him yes.

Ren pulls over, and they walk around a little.  Ren carries a beach towel taken from the trunk, just in case they want to lie down somewhere. Kit takes a piece of pig’s knucklebone, carved and painted blue and red, from out his pocket.  He breathes on it softly, and it begins to vibrate gently in his hand.  He puts it back in his pocket.  Ren looks at him curiously, and Kit explains it’s a warding charm.

“Not a very strong one,” he admits, “Just the kind of thing that makes people and animals think twice before bothering you.  Pretty decent area of effect, too.  Mum used to use them to keep mosquitoes off.”  I wish I’d been able to learn that from her, he thinks.  Ren tilts his head; Ren seems to always know when Kit is having sad thoughts.  He takes hold of his hand, and squeezes.  Kit smiles.

Kit and Ren keep walking, turning off the road and into a little wooded area.  There’s a gentle slope they climb together, hand in hand.  They find a little clearing together, one that smells of pine needles and earth. They lie down and watch the sky.  Occasionally, soft, wispy clouds pass by, making the stars and moonlight shimmer.  Ren cuddles close to Kit.  Kit nuzzles Ren’s jaw, then rolls over slightly to properly kiss him.  They spend a while kissing.  Then they do a little more than kissing.

They both feel so warm.

***

Kit knows that they’re still leaning a bit too heavily on one another.  Too dependent.  Kit has confessed to Ren that he cannot see any future for himself without him. Without Ren, his life really would be over.  Ren had blushed, the blood under his skin so hot and tempting, and said Kit didn’t need to think about that.  Here and now, that’s where they were.  They would never let each other go.

But there’s something perversely appealing about contemplating disaster.  It feels right that Kit shouldn’t be able live without Ren.  Almost reassuring.  Kit can imagine fading away like mist if Ren left him, for whatever reason.  Kit just wouldn’t be without Ren.  To be Christopher Shiponikov is to be with Ren Hana.

Is that wrong, really?

***

When true hearts lie withered,

And fond ones are flown,

Oh! who would inhabit

This bleak world alone?

***

They catch their breath together, the cool of the night air chilling the sweat on their bare bodies.  The night isn’t really cold, it’s just that they’re hot by comparison. September is mostly Summer, after all.  Ren rests his head on Kit’s chest and traces the name-scar he put there.  Kit watches Ren’s fingers move across his skin as he holds Ren, stroking his back, unspeaking.

Their tails tangle with their legs.

“Not the best place to sleep, probably,” Kit says.

“Yeah,” says Ren.

“You OK for driving home?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Mm.”

They spend another ten minutes lying together before getting dressed and walking back to the car.  The drive home is peaceful.  They drive with the windows open, taking in the smells of the night. As the breeze blows over them, they also smell themselves on each other. It’s nice.  

And it’s nice when they finally get home, late but not too late, and shower together.  The water is warm, and it’s good to be clean.  Neither bothers to dress before they get to bed, curling together in their shared nest, skin to skin.

“This was a good day,” Kit says.  “I needed a day like this.”  He yawns, snuggling closer to Ren.  He feels blood flowing under Ren’s skin, the shift of his body as he breathes.

“I’m glad,” says Ren, “I had a good day too.”  He turns his head and gives Kit a little kiss.  “We can do it again sometime.”  He smiles a small smile, a shy but satisfied smile.  “You’re really beautiful when you’re happy.”  And now Kit is the one blushing like a rose.  Isn’t that absurd?

“Well,” he says, pulling Ren to lie on top of him, “I’ll have to be happy more often, then.”

“For me?”

“For you.”

And that’s all they need to say before they sleep.

***

Life isn’t poetry.  Sometimes that makes Kit sad—even bitter—but other times he thanks God for it.