#teatober

“What are you doing?” Duri asks, for maybe the umpteenth time since Haru picked him up out in the Long Stretch.

Haru holds up the gold and teal teapot and rolls his eyes. “Making tea. Duh. Ma always says to, uh, put tea on for guests and shit. And trust me, she’ll know if I don’t, and then she’ll kick my ass.”

The tap turns on. It burbles a few times, spitting out air pockets, before finally rushing out clear water from the nearby cave system. It rattles against the inside of the pot. There’s a lapse of silence. Scrape of dog nails over the hardwood floor. Soft whine from the other room. The sound of one of the hounds getting on the couch.

Duri manages to make it a solid ten seconds, all the way until the kettle is sitting on the stove to heat, before demanding, “I mean why?”

“I literally just said why. If I don’t, ma will kick my ass. Look, stop complicating this shit. Haru crosses his arms over his chest and leans against one of the counters, scowling at where Duri is sitting. “Unless you don’t want dinner when she gets home and then by all means, go throw yourselves to the Vultures again.”

“I am a vulture,” says Duri, frustrated.

“No - duh.” Haru rolls his eyes, and then goes to fetch the tin of spiced tea from the nearby cabinet. The metal is dented so badly that the lid has to really be pried off, but the moment it pops open - clang! - there’s a rush of ginger and cinnamon and other good things. 

Duri just keeps staring at him. It’s unnerving. 

“Look,” says Haru, finally. He tosses the container onto the counter and fetches the mugs, trotting bare foot around the kitchen. Clack, clack, they get set out on the table. “If you’re worried about the Huntsmen, they aren’t allowed in here. Ma says so.”

“Your ma told them no, so the Huntsmen just went yeah, alright?”

“I mean, my grandma killed the last three of them that tried to come in here back when ma was a kid, and ma’s made it real clear she’ll do the same thing, so yeah, they just said alright. I don’t know. Do I look like I keep track of all the reasons why? That’s not my job.”

Duri keeps staring at him.

The kettle gives a shrill whistle. Haru grabs it, pours boiling water into each of their mugs. Thick spiced steam wafts up into the air. “Just go with it, man. I could have had Kimi eat you out there. Instead your getting tea and a meal out of it. Why keep pushing it until I change my mind and throw you back out?”

Duri still stares at him. Then, finally, he reaches at and takes hold of his mug. “Alright,” he concedes. “You’ve got a point.”

“Damn right I do,” answers Haru, cheerfully. “Now drink up. And if it’s bad, don’t say shit about it!”