Part 17 Christabel and I Came Sailing Home
[Version 1.1]

Ran's homecoming had been fraught with peril. First, he nearly collided 
with a pair of kissing boys who had chosen the middle of one hallway as 
their trysting place. Then, he had to dodge the various boxes and 
crates containing those items Ken had put up for sale; Mori and Mari 
had seen fit to move said packages into the hallway as they'd finished 
boxing them. 

But his greatest trial was yet to come, as he found when he at last 
opened the door to the South Tower and came face to face with Primera 
and Yuriko. The latter was standing on a step ladder before the archway 
that led to Fiona's room and the kitchen, measuring the curving, dark 
beam which adorned it. The former was standing next to her, holding a 
string of pink fairy lights.  Ran felt his stomach lurch.  

"I'm back," he muttered plaintively as he closed the door behind him. 

"Welcome home," answered Primera as her girlfriend scribbled down a 
number in the pad she'd handed her. "I see you did some shopping." 

Ran carefully set the overstuffed paper MacGregor's sack and the cake 
box down on the floor, and leaned against the door to remove his shoes. 
"Yeah, but don't say anything to anyone. It's kind of a surprise." 

"You got it. Our lips are sealed. Right, Yuriko?" 

Her red-haired companion gave him a smiling nod as she descended the 
stepladder. She folded it up, then set off up the stairs, tape and 
ladder in hand. 

"Why is she doing that?" Ran asked, though he had already knew the a
nswer.  

"It's for the party, for our decorations." Primera held up the strings 
of lights and gave them a little shake, making them click together. 

"You don't have to go to such extremes." 

"Oh, don't worry, Ran-san. It'll be fun! You'll see." 

Ran shot the retreating Yuriko a skeptical look. "Yeah, I suppose.  
I invited two, maybe three guests. They'll be here at seven--or 
one of them will beat least." 

"Oh?" she inquired brightly. "May I ask who is coming?" 

"Lord Vyx. He might be bringing someone with him." He jammed his feet 
into his slippers. "You know him?" 

Nodding, Primera giggled. A faint smile softened Ran's expression as 
he scooped up his purchases. He set off for the kitchen, slippered 
feet slapping softly over the stone floor. "Is Fiona here?" 

"No," Primera said from the stairs. "I sent her out to do some errands. 
Why? Do you need anything?" 

"No. Just don't let her come into the kitchen. Make up an excuse if you 
have to." 

She nodded. "I won't let her come in." 

Ran inclined his head once in thanks, and passed through the curtained 
doorway for the kitchen. Once there, he closed the door behind him and 
set his purchases down on the table. The cake went into the fridge, as 
did the sodas. The contents of a pink-and-black-striped sack, those 
being two small boxes that had been wrapped in silver paper and 
elaborate pink bows, he removed and set to one side of one of the 
stools. The paper sack he then upended over the table, revealing 
streamers in pink, yellow and white; a package of pale blue balloons; a 
party hat which was shaped like a tiara and bore flowing glittery gold 
feathers off its top, curling gold mylar ribbons down its sides, and 
had the words "Happy Birthday" written in rainbow glitter; and a purple 
tin party horn all decorated with iridescent rainbows and pegasus. Ran 
sorted through them, imagining how this would look with that, and would 
she like it? 

And then he drew up short, dropping the package of yellow streamer he'd 
been holding back to the table. This wasn't the first time he'd planned 
anyone's sixteenth birthday. It would be the first time anyone had seen 
it. But that was not what lingered in his mind, but rather, the face 
which belonged to that first someone. 

"Aya..."  

Briefly, almost lovingly, Ran let his fingers steal over the pouffy bow 
that adorned one of the packages, and then he left.  

Yuriko and Primera had moved into the living room, and were discussing 
the possibilities of the fireplace mantle. Ran rubbed a hand over his 
face with a soft groan. Surely, Ken wasn't going to let them go mad 
with the decorating, was he? 

For that matter, where was he, anyway? 

A cautious peek around the bedroom door (only opened after he'd knocked 
and received no answer) revealed an empty room. The office on the third 
floor was empty as well. 

So...that left one other place. 

Stepping across the hall to the bathroom, Ran knocked, ear cocked for 
any sounds of activity. None came, so he slowly turned the knob, and 
peeked around the door.  There, he found his quarry: Ken was in the 
bathtub, asleep. 

With an adoring little smile, Ran stepped into the room, closing the 
door behind him.

***

Ken however, remained wholly unaware of any presence besides those of 
whatever dream had taken him.  The sound of the door didn't disturb 
him, though his breath made slight, wispy noises as Ran stood watching.  
He had nodded off with his head nestled in his arms along the edge of 
the tub.  A bar of soap lay just below one of his still hands, and the 
water around him had gone quite cold, except for one creeping, sunlight 
spiral slipping through the tiny ornamental windows along the ceiling.

In time, Ran sat down beside the bath and propped one elbow on the rim 
of it himself.  Just watched. 

And listened when Ken began to talk to himself.

"Koichirou Chichi... ne... okasan... ore no okasan hen da yo.  Gomen 
nasai.  Ore wa... ore... aa... betsuni.  Gomen... gomen ne."

*** 

Slipping off his glasses, Ran rocked back on his heels, and hung his 
spectacles in the neck of his shirt before falling back into his 
previous position. He cupped some water in his palm and poured it over 
Ken's chest, running his hand gently over his sking in the trickling's 
wake. Ken stirred, mumbling some soft, incoherent reply, but settled 
back down again. And so, Ran did too, folding one arm tight upon the 
rim of the bathtub and resting his cheek upon his forearm. 

But with his other hand he reached out and stroked the thick bangs that 
fell across his forehead. Ken shifted as Ran's hand slid to his cheek, 
rubbing against it as if he sought to keep it there. He settled again, 
but his eyes sleepily blinked open, and a smile spread wide when he saw 
who sat beside him. 

"Ohayo," Ran whispered. 

Ken sat up and caught Ran's hand in his own, drawing it up to kiss his 
knuckles. Ran gave the hand around his own a squeeze, then fished the 
washcloth from the water, silently gesturing for the soap Ken held as 
well. Once he had the bar encased in the cloth, he coaxed Ken to sit
forward, and then began to lather up his back. 

"I didn't think I'd come home and find you in the bath asleep. You must 
have had a hard day. You were even talking in your sleep.  You were 
apologizing for your mother to...*his* father."

***

Ken, who had been rubbing at his still-hazy eyes, began to mumble 
something about an energetic insurance agent who had taken him on a 
tour of the Villa rather than the other way around, but his lips went 
still, and the rest of his shook for an instant as if trying to rid 
himself of something cold and sticky.  

"No, no.  S'ok.  I'm still kinda sleepy.  Don't be mad."

Just the same, he sifted his legs out from under his body and drew them 
up to his chest, wrapping his arms tight around them.  

"I... ah... 's not the first time I've had that dream, but it's been 
awhile."

Ken shrugged and sighed and turned over his shoulder.  His eyes were 
clear now but still limed with dark marks about the lashes.

"Dontcha ever say sorry... y'know? To anybody who knew you?"

***

Ran passed the steaming cloth once more over Ken's back, and then lay 
it over the side of the tub. "No. I save my apologies...for those who 
are no longer around to hear them." 

He lifted his eyes from the nothingness he had been staring at and set 
them on Ken. Drops of water were beading up on his bare skin, trickling 
down his lean body to meld with the greater pool he was sitting in. And 
his eyes--they were even bluer in that light, and looked sort of sad to 
him. He wanted to touch him, just that, and he reached out to brush his 
fingers across his graceful back. And then froze before he could so 
much as graze him. Ran dropped his hand in the water instead, swirling 
his fingers around in it. He pondered asking him more about his mother, 
why he had apologized, if she loved him, but he knew nothing would 
come of it. But Ran wasn't sure he had the right to delve that deeply. 

"I was hoping you'd be up to helping me in the kitchen. I...uh...bought 
some decorations, a cake, some sodas; I thought I'd order a pizza..." 
Ran wistfully looked off at the window for a moment. "I'm having a 
party tonight for Fiona-chan." 

With a smile, Ran stood up.  "If I'm a crab, so is she; it's only 
fitting that she have her birthday so close to mine.  But if you're 
tired, that's okay. I can handle it myself."

***

Ran had rather cut him off, so Ken waited a moment to answer his lover, 
and by that time, Ran had already risen and, was perched now almost in 
mid air: balanced on the tip of one shoe with his hand just shy of the 
crystal knob to the door. "Hey, I just had an hour nap! If I'm still 
tired, the hell with that, 'cause I sure shouldn't be."  

The water sloshed under Ken as he draped himself over one end of the 
tub, and dripping onto the floor 

"B'sides.  Bettcha don't know the number for pizza delivery.  I'll be 
down in justa minute, 'less somebody made off with my pants."  Which 
got him a world weary groan and a sudden tense sort of mode to the 
other boy's body, for the splashing sounds of him clambering out of the 
tub were most certainly not drowned out by his whistles.  

Though that didn't stop him from whistling at all.  Ken padded across 
the floor and snatched up his towel.  Only then did the door open, and 
a few hasty footsteps sounded in the hall.

Now that he was somewhat alone, he smoothed his rumpled hair this way 
and that until it was even more rumpled than it had been, and his 
cowlick- exacerbated by the fact he was starting to need a trim -doing 
a dandy loop-de-loop to the left of his bangs.  Looking quite the 
sopping vagabond, he marched into the hallway and called,  "Hey, are 
you gonna change?"

He meant his clothes.  Ran figured this, and nodded.

So Ken dashed the remaining distance between then, and for the second 
time that day, glomped Ran, all the stowaway water on him be damned.

"MAAAAAAA, you looked like you needed a hug."

Ken's towel had evidentially needed to be tied better, for it fell down 
just then.

Fiona, just coming out of the spare room where two of their computers 
as a mound of printouts still lived, took one look at the sight and 
abruptly went back inside, slamming the door behind her.  "I DO NOT 
WANNA KNOW!"

*** 

Silence fell in the wake of Fiona's echo, and Ran couldn't help but 
smile at the closed door behind which the girl had hidden herself. He 
could scarce believe that he'd shocked a girl so jaded as she. At 
least, though, now he knew where she was, and hopefully she would stay 
there for a while longer. 

As for his other concern... 

He hadn't truly realized just how much he missed Ken until that 
morning; and now, having said boy naked and warm and smelling *so* good 
from whatever soap he'd used--it brought it all back. Ran risked only 
the touch of his palms on Ken's shoulders, long fingers curving around 
their muscled slopes to hold him as closed as he dared. 

"I believe we've scandalized our servant." 

With a hug, Ken chuckled softly against his throat, and Ran let him go. 
He was careful to keep his eyes pinned to the dark blue pair of his 
beloved; it wasn't so hard to do, really. Even though it made his chest 
ache so painfully with desire--and with regret--to look at him. He'd 
done everything wrong since they'd arrived in Terra; the time he'd 
spent trying to avoid Ken helped him to see it. And even now, with Ken 
being so accepting of him again, Ran felt like the damnedest fool. 

Careful to keep his eyes averted, Ran stooped to pick up the towel from 
the stairs. Wordlessly, he shook it out, and wrapped it around Ken's 
waist, tucking in the corner over one hip. 

"I've treated you badly," he admitted, softly. "I won't do it again." 

Without warning, Ran darted forward to place a quick kiss upon Ken's 
lips. His eyes slid back to the floor as soon as he'd pulled away. 

"I'll meet you in the kitchen." 

Then, without waiting for an answer, he spun on his heel, and headed 
down the stairs for the Tower's entrance.

***

Ken though hung behind a moment, stroking his hair out of his eyes 
until he could no longer see Ran below the pirouette of the staircase, 
and his towel, all good will of his beloved aside, had fallen down 
around his feet once again. 

When he had finished drying as much as he could, and there was no one 
there for him to gaze so serenely after, he kicked the bit of terry 
into his hands again and marched up to the bedroom where he locked the 
door behind him.  Then again, would he really mind if his redhead came 
bursting back in?

/Nah, Ran. The best you can is plenty for me./

His daydream died when the blood surged in his ears and he could hear 
his heart beating for an instant, much faster than he had before.  He 
felt someone's hand upon his shoulder.  Someone's lips on his ear.

And he could not see.

It was the first time since the night they had come to Terra, the third 
he remembered with any clarity after, but he still sank to his knees, 
tried to make the cream and ebony fragment of a person behind him in 
the mirror focus.  No matter how much he shook his head, it stayed, it 
was someone, nothing, nothing of anyone- just the long shadows of the 
gliding not-quite twilight, and not-quite afternoon.  

Before he remembered finding his footing again, he found himself 
standing with his hand against the pane of that unfamiliar bedroom that 
just happened to be his now.

"Go away now... I'm... I'm just tired."

With no more thought to it, he got dressed, fished his silken house 
slippers out from under the bed and went downstairs, having slammed the 
door behind him.

***

When Ran re-entered the foyer, his mouth was still dry, his heart still 
beating a little too fast from being so near Ken. He'd wanted to touch 
him so badly; even more, he had wanted to lie beneath him again, and 
have those sure, tender hands stroke him into bliss. Such idle 
fantasies were lingering still as he crossed through the curtained 
doorway, forgotten when he heard the door slam above him. He wondered 
at that briefly, then turned with a slight shrug, and entered the 
kitchen. 

Everything was as he had left it, but Ran himself was in much better 
shape than before. His work-stained clothes had been swapped for a 
short-sleeved, burgundy shirt which had tiny ivy leaves embroidered in 
burgundy thread in two vertical lines, both front and back. He'd put on 
a pair of faded jeans with it; still wore his black slippers. His hair 
had been carefully combed, and he'd even dared pat on a bit of the bay 
rum he'd bought one day. Such things he'd never indulged in before, but 
he'd liked the smell of it. And as he'd never given way to his whims... 

Ran was tearing into the plastic wrap which held a roll of pink 
streamer when Ken entered the room, and he stopped long enough to give 
him a look of pure admiration. 

"I probably went overboard with the decorations, but..." He gave him a 
sheepish little shrug. "I thought it was worth it."

***

Ken, rather than answer, sniffled a little.  And grinned, for his nose 
had come in close to the unadorned throat of the boy before him, the 
sour sweetness there.  "You smell nice."

Ran didn't seem to know just what to make of the remark, but he 
certainly didn't look displeased.  "Eto... yeah! The decorations.  I 
don't think this is goin' overboard.  Overboard's what you-know-who and 
you-know-who's girlfriend are probably gonna do to you tomorrow."

His composure having crept back to him then, Ken summoned a scissors 
from the depths of one of the drawers and, set Ran's fingers on either 
side of the crepe paper roll so he could pull it out as if it was on a 
bobbin.  "So... what kinda pizza you think I should order? Got no idea 
what she likes b'sides hanging around on the corridor in the basement, 
calling you 'grumpy bear' and new sneakers..."

With a snip and a little bit of a pause, he added  "Y'know she dances 
in 'em when you're not home, or did I tell you that already?"

***

Ran, who was still musing over Ken's unexpected compliment, glanced up 
at him as he tightened his fingers upon the fragile paper, holding it 
still for the scissors' blades. "She does?" His mouth twitched with 
amusement. 

Ken nodded, and the strip fell away across his palm. 

"Maybe I should take her shopping again. Talk her into getting a spare 
pair before she wears the others out." 

They fell into a companionable silence, the scissors clicking away at 
intervals. Ran stole looks at Ken as they worked--just as he used to do 
in Tokyo. It seemed he was as unaware now as he had been then, which 
was a good thing in Ran's opinion. 

"I think," he began, quickly dropping his gaze to the brightly colored, 
quivering strip he held, "we ought to order one with the works. A large 
one, and whatever we don't eat tonight, we can have with coffee for 
breakfast tomorrow morning." 

A murmur of assent rose from his companion. One more strip was measured 
and cut, and it and the remaining ribbon wound up on the haphazard pile 
Ken had made on the table. Ran fumbled with the ends, then took in the 
ceiling as if he were considering it. 

"You know, I had thought to make a sort of canopy with all this. But 
now, I don't know. It would be a lot of work to get so elaborate." He 
looked over at Ken--really *looked*. He leaned up against the table, 
the heel of one hand resting upon it's edge. With the other, he 
hesitantly reached out to stroke one of the faint smudges of weariness 
under the other boy's eyes. 

"And you *are* still kind of tired, aren't you?"

***

Ken had been about to launch into his speech about just how much he 
adored cold pizza, especially with coffee, but was interrupted in the 
end, and this time, it wasn't by Youji insisting he didn't need to be 
disgusted so early in the morning by mention of such a delicacy, let 
alone sight of it.  

"I'll live.  I'm not THAT sleepy."

Though at that moment, when it might have been expected they would have 
agreed or not and just the same gone back to their decorating, neither 
of them moved.

"We'll... ah... put a few spokes out from the chain for the lamp an 
tape 'em to the ceiling, then we can thread the rest through it 
without cuttin' it.  Shouldn't take too long at all!"

This they both paused to consider- Ken because he had spoken without as 
much thought behind his certainty as might have been called for, and 
Ran for many a reason called Ran-ful. 

"I'll be the one to stand on the table.  I'll take one and, you keep 
the roll and cut it... we'll be done in no time..."

And then as he kissed him just against his ear.  "...if we ever start."

***

"Yeah," Ran replied. "If. Now, though, I find I'm in no hurry." 

Another soft snuffle of laughter came from Ken, and he curled a little 
closer to Ran. The fingers that had traced the discolorations under his 
hazy eyes wound up in Ken's hair, and Ran rubbed his chin against Ken's 
temple.  

A kiss fell upon his jaw, another on his cheek, and Ran's eyelids 
drifted shut. There was a whisper of skin on skin as Ken pulled back, a 
rustle of fabric as he jerked the boy fully into his arms. Their lips 
met, Ken's teasing and coaxing Ran's until the redhead grew wonderfully 
dizzy. 

"Kiss me like that again," said Ran, "I might decide to chuck 
the streamers altogether." 

***

"Can't remember the last time you did that.  About anything!" Ken 
simpered his lover for an instant before snatching after his lips once 
more, though the kiss did not linger this time- rather, it glanced 
against this mouth and tickling into it now and then.  The other boy 
sighed, pretending to be mad about it, but he only chased him, fumbled 
for his mouth now and then.  They bumped noses and Ran's glasses went 
askew.  

All of a sudden, Ken's hands darted up against his cheeks and held him 
quite still with their gazes brushing up against each other and their 
breath playing in their bangs.  

"Love you," he said with a grin before he pecked him on the nose.  With 
one last fond swipe at his eartails, he clambered up on the table by 
way of one of the chairs- tape in one hand and the other waiting for a 
streamer.

***

Skin prickling, Ran quickly fumbled his glasses back into place, and 
flicked his fingers through his mussed eartails, tugging them straight. 
He wordlessly took a package of yellow streamer, tore it open, and 
handed the roll to Ken, all without looking up at him once. Ran set the 
roll of pink he had earlier to one side, then toyed with another pack 
of pink, thinking to open it as well. That is, decorating was on his 
mind somewhat. Ken was on his mind far more. 

He'd said those words so earnestly--why couldn't Ran believe him? 

The roll of yellow bounced onto the table, and Ran looked up 
instinctively...and found not only the beginnings of a design, but 
Ken's eyes upon him. He smiled at Ran, who quickly averted his eyes to 
the scattered items on the table. He realized he was crumpling the 
unwrapped roll of pink, and he dropped it--only to pick it up again 
when Ken held out his hand for it.  Ran left him to it, choosing 
insteadto pick up one scrunched lump of pale blue rubber, and place it 
to his lips.  It blossomed easily with his breath.  

"I thought I'd make myself useful," he said as he twisted the end of 
the balloon into a knot. 

***

"Woul, that's fine it's just..." Ken paused, boggled, shook his head 
and laughed outright then, pinning one of his spokes up crooked in the 
process and promptly tearing it down, a speck of paint from the 
ceiling and all.  Hoping Ran hadn't noticed just that yet, he turned 
back to him, "You blowing up balloons! That was seriously on my lista 
stuff I never 'spected to see you so."

At the quizzical little glance which followed, he went one, going on 
merited or not.  "Ok, I *wanted* to make one."  And his tongue poked 
out from between his lips for an instant before he went back to work. 

All of the ceiling streamers now in place, he began to weave the rest 
through them - first pink, and then yellow and pink again, all around 
the little saucer of the kitchen light.  All of his turning around and 
around made a hopeless twist in the table cloth that almost made him 
fall (at least until Ran insisted he get off and bring the thing with 
him so it wouldn't cause anymore trouble).  Once he got going properly, 
it wasn't too long at all until he had his little crepe paper gazebo, 
trimmed now with two little clusters of balloons like giant, colorful 
grapes.  It glowed like a striped jewel when they turned on the light.

Ran, who still wasn't out of breath, blew up a few more for on either 
side of the silver 'Happy Birthday' and one to prop with the two boxes 
he had for the centerpiece.

That last balloon never did make it to nestling in with the gifts.  Ken 
plucked up the mint green bubble and batted it into the air for a 
moment, watching it sail slow and lazy toward the ceiling and then back 
to his waiting arms. 

"Umm... I'll call in just a sec here... old habits die hard and all." 
Ken sighed, and in doing so, inadvertently blew the balloon towards 
his lover.

***

Ran caught it with his fingertips; the sides gave just slightly when 
he pressed against the rubbery orb. "Yeah. And so do dreams. Perhaps 
it's just as well that they don't." 

Ran set the balloon adrift once more, and as it floated towards the 
ground, he brought his knee up and sent it spinning through the air 
towards Ken. 

Ken laughed and stepped forward to meet it. He sent it twirling towards 
the ceiling with a well-aimed punch of one knee. The brunet played with 
the balloon all the way to the phone, where he tapped it away towards 
the kitchen's one bare corner. Ran cleared away the leavings of their 
decorating attempts while Ken placed the order for their dinner. He was 
just getting around to straightening the tablecloth when the other boy 
joined him. 

"Tell me what would be on that list. Tell me how I might shock you."

***

Ken found himself rather struck funny by his question at first, and 
second unable to decide how he should answer, let alone fend off any 
nude delivery boys- one never knew about those Terran pizza joints. 
Anyway, there were a LOT of things he would have put money on Aya 
never-ever doing in his life, not to mention a lot of those things that 
Ran had up and perpetrated in his presence.

He actually had to sit down at the table to think for awhile, mumbling 
loudly now and then, scratching his chin, blowing away the balloons, 
which, in their languorous drifting, tried to assault him.  

"Well, you could take a piss with the door open! But that kinda runs 
the risk of shockin' other people too... same thing with 'watering the 
roses'."

/And I bet Freud would have a field day with me for thinking of THAT 
first./ As it was, the look Ran was giving him suggested the other boy 
might be willing to do a Freud impersonation.

"It would shock me if I came home to find you crying over a soap opera 
and eating pretzels out of a pink glass candy dish."

Ken was pretty sure Aya didn't care for pretzels.

"And if you liked shotacon, that'd really get me! I mean... err... 
shotacon comics, not real little boys."

"If you took a label-maker and labeled everythin' in the house, 
including Prim, Yuriko, and Fiona."

"If you ran up to Schuldich, tied a big, fluffy bow in his hair and ran 
away giggling.  But, y'know, I'd be shocked to see ANYBODY do that to 
him now that I thinka it."

"If I came home and found you reading 'Gravity's Rainbow', discussing 
kissing techniques with Yuriko, or napping in the middle of the 
afternoon.  If it turned out you were vegan, if you were wearing lady's 
underwear right now, if you liked to draw naked women in your spare 
time.  If you were afraid of the dark! Or faucets.  If you taped me to 
anything in the bedroom with duct tape.  Actually, back to the being 
afraid thing if you told me..."

"If you told me..."

Ken's lips froze then, though he looked as if there was something he 
had once desperately wanted to say.

/You already did kinda tell me what you're afraid of./

"Ah... never mind." And with a shrug, he looped his arm around the 
other boy's waist.

***

On the table before him, Ran had lined up the few strips of crepe 
paper Ken had scattered whilst decorating, and these he toyed with 
still, pausing only to glance at Ken out of the corner of his eye. 

"I never pegged you for having such an vivid imagination. Imagine, me 
watching soaps and eating pretzels. And I think Fiona would probably 
attack me if I dared approach her with a label. As would Yuriko-san, 
too, I imagine."  

Ran paused to consider just what she might do.  Two strips of paper 
left the table for his fingers, where they fluttered and rustled as he 
folded them together. 

"I'll never be vegan, don't really like naps, can't draw, and the only 
thing I'll ever touch Schuldich with is the sharp end of my katana. I'm 
not afraid of the dark. I'm not afraid of faucets. I'm not even afraid 
to die." 

Ran's fingers stopped their careful twitching of the paper, and he 
opened one palm and placed the finished product of his fidgeting upon 
the shallow dip within it. He'd made a crane. Ran held the tiny paper 
bird out to Ken. 

"I'm no longer the boy Aya knew. What will she do when she 
realizes it?"

***

Ken hesitated an instant, as if the tiny paper bird had taken him by 
surprise in the middle of the early morning when he was still asleep.  
When he did reach for it, it was with both hands that just barely 
grazed it as if it might shatter either way if dropped or held too 
tight.  

His apprehension left him then, and he smiled, perching the crane 
rather on the tip of one of his fingers, where it nodded back and forth 
a little, its head somewhat closer to the table top than its tail.  

And then he pulled the other boy as close as he could, bumping his 
temple against his side.  

"Can't say for sure.  I don't think even she could, if you asked her 
b'fore she saw you again.  And y'know, I never had any sibs... I don't 
trust the only person we could ask.  But... why worry? First things 
first, right?"

/Because... I think you've had enough empty promises in your life.  You 
don't need them from me yet./

He started to say something else. The words became breath only on his 
lips, and he shook his head a little to try and scare the thought of 
them away, but like traces of dew on the grass that laid hidden in the 
shade come morning, they would not leave him.  

So he closed his eyes then, and said them just softly.

"I'll still be here.  Not that it makes you feel any better, but I will 
be."

***

Ran stayed motionless in Ken's embrace, watching the crane bob on the 
tip of the other boy's finger, his words sinking in. He marveled over 
them, even though he'd heard him make that same reassurance before. It 
amazed him that he was hearing that promise made to him; awed and 
humbled him, and made him wonder just what he'd done to warrant such 
steadfastness. 

"It does." 

He lay his head against Ken's, and draped one long arm down the 
brunet's back, long fingers stealing across his cheek. He heard a quiet 
tapping on the table's top, and he was folded even closer to him, and 
there they stood for several tickings of the clock. Ran had closed his 
eyes to shut out everything around him. 

"I would like to sleep with you tonight," he whispered.  "Just sleep. 
Just that. But if you'd rather not..." 

A pause, and Ran kissed him again.  "I'll understand."

***

Ken reached up and pinched the end of his lover's nose.  "Course I 
wanttcha there! I miss you." Just the smallest chuckle slipped from his 
lips.  "But you haffta to read me a bed-time story."

They didn't quite draw away from each other then, just lingered close 
enough to feel each other's breath, touching and not quite touching 
with the small sighs darting around them.  It had grown rather dim in 
the kitchen since they'd begun, and the shadows took up most of the 
floor.  Outside, a few tiny moths were already steeling over the 
bushing after hiding places, and one impetuous Cream Lassie circled 
over the eaves before coming to rest upside down on the edge of the 
roof.  It was very peaceful and still, with little sound but the wind.

Ken thought of speaking, but instead, he cupped his lover's head in his 
hands, and drew him down against him.  Kissed his cheek, and his 
throat.  The stud of the gold earring he still wore; his lashes.  He 
was just drawing near his pale, silken lips when...

"HEY! I'm HUNGRY! I had NO F-... dratted lunch! At least let me get 
some TOAST for chrissake! PLEASE!" wailed Fiona, having apparently 
kicked the door in the mean time. 

***  

Both boys had started in surprise, clearly not expecting anyone to come 
traipsing into the kitchen. Ken's hands quickly fell to his sides, and 
they both took a step away from each other, cheeks flushed with 
embarrassment over having been caught. Not that Fiona really seemed to 
care about what they'd been doing (or might have done, if she'd let 
them be). She was clearly more interested in what had been done to the 
kitchen in her absence. Ran watched her drink in the streamers, the 
balloons they'd stuck here and there, or had dropped to the floor 
around the table. The gifts. 

When she turned her wide eyes upon the two of them, however, he finally 
moved, scooping up a few of what lay upon the table as he went. 

"I was just about to come get you, Fiona-chan. As you can see," he 
said, nodding at the pink-and-yellow canopy, "we have a bit of a 
problem. I came in here to put the groceries away, and found it like 
this, all decorated for a birthday party, but clearly not my own. 
Clearly all this is meant for a girl, but I don't know any girls 
here, not really. Just the ones I work with. And you, of course." 

Here, Ran pressed the metal party horn into the stunned girl's hand. 

"I figure those others have birthdays, so, they wouldn't be 
interested. You though..." 

Ran shook out the feathered crown and set it upon Fiona's head; 
absently tucked a few stray strands of hair over her ear. He 
brushed his fingers lightly over the quivering plumes, then 
dropped his gaze from her altogether. 

"You've never had a party," he said softly. "I thought I'd give you 
one."

***

One of the plumes took just the moment Ran drew away to melt into his 
servant's eyes, where it dangled, stirred only be the occasional 
movement of her eyelids, for she didn't reach up at once to bat it 
away.  When she did finally move, it was to shift the noisemaker to her 
other hand.  It spun in her fingers as she took one step closer to the 
swordsman, and then another, until they would have been nose to nose if 
their heights were closer.

Fiona's hand shot up from her side then, clamping across Ran's brow and 
staying there for a long, long time while she scowled her little heart 
out at him.

"Funny, you sure don't feel like you've got a fever.  Did anyone feed 
you any weird mushrooms? Try drinking Lady Jessica's absinthe? What! 
What have you done to yourself! You're not the Ran I know!"  

***

Grimacing, Ran grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from his 
forehead. "No, obviously I'm not. And whose fault is that?" 

Fiona gaped at him as if about to fire off a retort, but then tore her 
arm free of his grasp and stuck her tongue out at him--at which he 
scowled. 

"Don't be a brat," he muttered, flipping the dangling feather back from 
her face. She said nothing, only pouted, and Ran spun on his heel away 
from her. He walked past Ken to the refrigerator, from which he 
retrieved the large, white box which held her cake.  

"My sister had looked forward to her sixteenth birthday, but she never 
got to have it. When you said you'd never had one at all...Well, I just 
thought I'd change all that." 

Silence. 

Ran popped the side tabs and folded down the flaps, and turned the box 
so Fiona could better see the cake. 

***

Once more, Fiona said not one word to the pair of boys before her.  She 
held herself as if she was alone, swathed in the most rapturous of 
solitudes.  It was just her there.

Just Fiona.  And the cake.  Which she could not lift her gaze from.  It 
was almost as if she had never seen a cake before in her life. 

But she proved then she knew what to do with one; leaned in just close 
enough that she could smell the creamy butter in the icing, but not so 
near her feathers wound up lost in it.  One finger she raised and 
brushed over the pink swirls about the rim before popping it into her 
mouth as she stood.

Nothing of her trembled, but she was fighting to keep herself still, 
this plain in the slow, stilted way she had to take her finger from her 
lips.  She just stood there, glaring daggers at Ran as two tears leaked 
out of the corners of her eyes and splashed down onto her shirt.

When she spoke then, her words were thin and quavering.  "How could 
you? You can't stand me so you have a birthday party for me? Is this 
some stupid-ass Japanese joke I don't know about 'cause if it is I 
don't think it's too funny I..."

"Fiona-chan, s'ok we..." Ken blurted out, but got no further.

"I..."

Something fell over upstairs, followed by laughter and the sound of 
wires skittering under feet.  Fiona ripped the box out of Ran's hands, 
plopped it on the table without disturbing the cake in the least, and 
stood right in front of him, trying to look him straight in the face 
where he eyes kept darting to scare away more saline.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say next!"

***

"I wasn't expecting you to say anything," Ran replied coolly. "I didn't 
do this for thanks or out of pity, or as a joke. That's not how I 
operate. And as I recall, I never told you I hated you." 

Fiona blinked her watering eyes at him, and hesitantly, he lifted his 
hand to brush away those tears which had spilled from them. "If I 
did, I wouldn't have done this at all." 

She turned away from him when his fingers left her cheek.  

"Ken ordered a pizza with everything, and I brought some soda home to 
go with it. I even...bought gifts." He picked up one such package and 
held it up for her to see, but Fiona didn't react at all. Ran set the 
silver-papered box down on the table. 

"I just wanted to do something for you."

***

Fiona hesitated a moment, sniffling now and again, for while her eyes 
were only swimming now, her nose was starting to run.  Ken handed her a 
tissue, and having blown her nose very, very loudly, she bunted it into 
the wastebasket under the sink, washed her hands, and solemnly padded 
over to the stool.  Her fingers latched around the top of it very 
tightly- ready it seemed to fight anyone who dared removing her.  The 
crookedly-mended toe of her slippers no longer served as her sole point 
of interest, for bit by bit her eyes crept onto the table and wandered 
about it the way two droplets of rain try to make their way across 
something that isn't meant to be wet.  

"Umm..." she began rather awkwardly.  The question, her own "why" faded 
away on her lips.  For she remembered something, like words, clear as 
words, but not words, and with no place, no voice, no impression of 
another person to them.  

Sometimes you don't ask why.

So, she started over.  "Umm... does pizza with everything include 
mushrooms?"

Ken, who had just plopped down on his own chair, chuckled a little.  
"You bet it does! Do you like mushrooms on your pizza then? Wasn't 
sure- almost asked for it without."

"I like anything with mushrooms, but not pineapple.  EWE! Pineapple!"

Her tongue crept out between her lips.

And then she started to laugh.

***

Taking that as a sign of their victory, the boys exchanged relieved 
looks over Fiona's head. Ran moved away from the stool to take the 
required number of dishes and utensils from their respective places. 
"If it happens they've put pineapple on it, I'll take the bits off your 
slices," he said. "Pineapple's my favorite." 

Behind him, Fiona murmured her disapproval of his preference. Ran 
glanced over his shoulder to find she'd scrunched up her nose in a show 
of disgust. 

"Oh, come on, Fiona-chan. It's not that bad." 

She rolled her eyes at him, and then lowered them to her plate, and 
began to toy with the ribbon of one package. Ken started to tell a 
story about an incident involving Omi, a cart of hostas, a classmate of 
Omi's named Rika, and Momoe-san's cat as Ran stacked three plates, 
three bowls, and three each of knives and forks into one neat pile. 
Fiona giggled again, and he smothered another little smile as he carted 
his fragile burden over to the table. No problem, until he set them 
down in the space between his lover and the guest of honor, and they 
tipped, spilling knives and forks onto the battered top. Ran tensed, 
frozen, as Fiona's giggle rose anew. It wasn't like him to be so 
clumsy. 

"I think you're rubbing off on me," he said, glancing sidelong at his 
lover. 

Ken made some sound of indignation, but before he could retort, there 
came a knock at the door, and Ran hurried off to answer it. He came 
back with the promised pizza and set it down on the table, leaving it 
for Ken to serve up while he fetched the sodas. As he set the three 
cans down on the table, it hit him. It all felt so right, the three of 
them sitting around like this. 

Like they were a family. And Ran hadn't felt that way in a long 
time...not quite. His eyes fell again on Fiona as he took his seat 
beside her. Upon noticing the shy way Fiona was watching him, as if she 
couldn't believe what he'd done, and half expected him to tell her it 
was all a joke after all--he smiled, and flipped the misbehaving 
feather back in place. 

"Aren't you going to open your presents, Fiona-chan?"

***

"Yes, it's better to have presents first and not get pizza on them.  I 
learned that the hard way," Ken mused even as he happened to be peering 
into the box.  Once he had cocked the lid far enough, he oohed and 
ahhed to himself, and got a little swat from his lover.  "So, anyway, 
there's Omi, and he's got MUD all over his jeans and this girl he 
hardly knows in a VERY embarrassing position when the cat shows up 
and..."

"Is that Shinto or something?" Fiona interrupted then, speaking of the 
presents, rather than poor Omi's indelicacies regarding wheelbarrows, 
one of her fingers creeping up on the ribbons around the larger of the 
packages.  

"Nah, that's prooffa how long I've been clumsy," he cut himself off 
with a little bit of a pout then, and ever so reluctantly removed the 
pizza to the counter, demonstrating once it was there that he had 
chosen a secure place.  "So, which one d'you want first?"

"I dunno..." Fiona pulled both across the table towards her, a little 
glitter from the bows on the smaller one trailing behind it across the 
tabletop.  "Is there some way I'm s'posed to open 'em?" Her gaze 
fluttered back onto Ran for a moment, but she didn't seem inclined to 
hold his eyes for very long, though she did meet them, and almost at 
once pretended to be distracted by a noisemaker, which fell between her 
lips and found itself at her mercy.  She blew the thing so loudly, the 
birds that had gathered under the eaves took off.

Oddly enough, this seemed to put her at ease, and she dove for the 
smaller one, explaining herself- "Woul everyone knows bigger presents 
are better!"

Ken rolled his eyes a little and tore his gaze away from the pizza box. 
"Who told you that! 's not true."

"I don't know that either... Oh well."

Though neither of them were especially sure what else she wasn't sure 
of.  She'd picked her present after all, and it turned out to be a 
graceful little flask of lily-of-the-valley cologne, a droplet of which 
she got on the end of her nose when she pulled the stopper out to sniff 
it.

"Mmm!" Was all she said.

***

Ran lit up a little. "You like it?  I wasn't sure which one to 
get, or whether to get any of them. I just thought that one smelled 
kind of..." he shrugged, "...Girlish." 

Fiona raised her eyes to him with a tiny smile, and promptly dabbed a 
bit behind her ears. Ran felt sort of silly, but happy, and Ken was 
clearly longing for the pizza. Ran saw him steal yet another look 
towards the box, and, with a roll of his eyes, he slid off the stool. 

"And now this one," he said, fingertips thumping softly upon the 
remaining gift as he leaned in a little over Fiona's shoulder. "I hope 
you like it as much, if not more." 

He plucked up the discarded wrapping, sans bow, and tossed it in the 
can under the sink. He washed his hands, dried them and headed over to 
the counter where Ken had set the pizza box. Behind him, he heard the 
last of the paper tear away and fall, and heard her little gasp of 
delight. In her hands lay the book he'd bought--an anthology of English 
Romantic-era poetry. 

"That poem you like is in there--'Christabel'. It's by 
Samuel Coleridge." 

Fiona perked at that, and proceeded to open the book, diving straight 
for the table of contents. Ran set the box back down on the table 
before Ken and lifted the lid. It was a pizza with everything--
pineapple included. 

They exchanged amused glances, and Ran picked up the flat serving spoon 
before Ken could even touch it. Two slices landed upon his plate. "I 
didn't mean to deprive you of your dinner," he said lightly, clearly 
just teasing him. "How can I ever make amends for making you wait 
to eat?"

***

"Well..." Ken began as he coaxed a bit of veggie sausage that was 
headed for the table back onto his plate and then rather into 
his mouth, "You could always..."

"EEK! Not at the table! Not at the table!" Fiona cried, her hands 
clapped against her ears and her head shaking.  Her two companions 
couldn't help but stare at her in the moments that followed.

It was, after all, the first time she had made a remark as too someone 
else's manners, rather than having someone else chide her with regards 
to her own.

It all ended with one of her contemptuous little sniffs, though one 
given with a grin still lingering on her lips.  "Well! Whaddya expect 
me to say! You'd think neither onea you'd ever been in love before! 
You're like... rabbits that ate oysters!"

Ken, at that, clamped his napkin over his nose in somewhat of an 
attempt to stifle any soda that might spurted from it.  Ran didn't look 
too pleased at the remark, and as it was, the Dono managed to swallow 
his cola and his giggles where they had arisen from his mental image of 
several well-dressed hares perched on stools at a sushi bar requesting 
oysters from one stunned Ran! (Who had worked in a restaurant or two 
after all.)

"SEE! Ran? I'm hungry too." The rabbits left peaceably with that, and 
Ken plopped a pair of slices onto her Fiona's plate.  She had no sooner 
gotten a look at them than she began to laugh herself.  One hand darted 
towards the pineapple, but then back to her lap to catch what lay 
there, for she had yet to place her books somewhere safer than the 
pizza and soda laden table.

Though she didn't do that right away.  It seemed she had come across 
something she recalled on the pages before her, and passed it with a 
little sigh of the gold paint edging as it parted under her hands. 

Again the wildflower wine she drank:
Her fair large eyes 'gan glitter bright
And from the floor whereon she sank,
The lofty lady stood upright:
She was most beautiful to see,
Like a lady of a far of countree

And thus the lofty lady spake-
'All thye who live in the upper sky,
Do love you, holy Christabel!
And you love them, and for their sake
And for the good which me befel,
Even I in degree will try,
Fair maiden to requite thee well.
But now unrobe yourself; for I
Must pray, ere yet in bed I lie.'

Quoth Christabel, So let it be!
And as the lady bade did she.
Her gentle limbs did she undress,
And lay down in her loveliness.

"Not at the table," said Ken.

(OOC: That's lines 220-238 if you, like me, had trouble finding the 
naughtiness :P.) 

***

"I agree," said Ran. "If we have to control ourselves, then so do you." 

Fiona murmured in disappointment, but closed the book and set it upon 
his outstretched palm. Ran took it and the bottle of cologne over to 
the counter, and left them. 

"There," he said as he came back to the table. "They'll both be out of 
harm's way while you eat. And if you don't want your pineapple, put it 
on my plate." 

He pulled the pizza box over with one finger hooked over the side. 
Served himself two slices, and then licked the tangy sauce away from 
his thumb. Fiona made another remark in criticism of his manners, and 
he jabbed a finger in the direction of her plate, bidding her to get 
on with the business of eating. 

Slowly, the edge of his plate began to fill with morsels of pineapple, 
but Ran only had eyes for Ken as he scooped one slice up for a bite. 

"Whatever you were going to tell me just then...don't forget it."

***

"Oh, I won't!" Ken mumbled between bites of his pizza, of which had had 
already more or less made short work of most of his first slice, while 
Fiona, herself just as hungry as he was, still searched the cheesy 
valleys for invading fruit particles.  

Unable to find any more, she sighed and took a surprisingly 
conservative nibble that left a long, thing, string of cheese between 
her and her pizza.  She smiled at Ran through it.  Payback, though she 
had sauce on the end of her nose and didn't seem to realize it.

"So," Ken began, leaning down over the edge of the table then so he was 
resting on one elbow.  "Where'd you first hear Christabel, about 
Christabel? Just wonderin'.  I didn't think you'd like that sorta thing 
much."

Fiona blinked at him from over and arch of green pepper.  She simply 
wasn't used to being asked questions about herself, let alone having 
them asked at a birthday party that was hers, and not that of one mage 
or another.  Having swallowed and taken a few sips of soda, she did 
answer though.  "Well, you know, I don't remember exactly.  I just know 
that I was little, and I didn't get it at all!" A little snicker here 
and she rolled her eyes a little at herself.  "All I DO remember is 
that I was sitting on this white, marble floor, and there were all 
these candles... and it smelled really nice! Like... I dunno, I can't 
really say.  Different.  And there were all these other little girls 
and a buncha heralds and..."

"And what?"

"A blind woman I think..."

***

"Sounds like a Valdemarian holiday," Ran muttered over one of his 
pineapple-burdened slices. "It certainly sounds ODD enough to be one." 

Fiona snorted in amusement. Ken gave him a censoring look over the rim 
of his soda can, and Ran scowled back. 

"You don't know what I had to put up with today. Indignant, pushy old 
women in flashy dragon costumes. One of them was the mother of your 
secretary." Ran made a face as he reached for his soda. "Simply 
charming." 

Ken rolled his eyes, and a giggle rose from Fiona's end of the table. 
Ran shrugged, and took another bite of his pizza. 

"So...what? Was the blind woman a storyteller? Did she recite the poem 
for the gathering, and you were swept away by the cadences?"

***

As Fiona held up her hand in a motion for her companions to wait a 
moment while she chewed and Ken had himself a bit of a sigh and lapsed 
into memories which seemed to be written on the ceiling.  "'s not your 
fault.  I've have the pleasure of meetin' Lady Jessica m'self and I... 
well, not tryin' to be flippant or nothin' but there's stuff I did in 
Tokyo I'd do over again if it meant there was any way in hell I MIGHT 
forget that hour of my life!"

"Yeah, you and every person in Valdemar's got something like that." The 
birthday girl though, in trying to think of her own moment, couldn't 
seem to find one she loathed *just* a little bit more than any other.  
"Why do people put up with the old bi-... bag?"

"'cause she's got money where money don't belong.  Anyway, before Ran 
yells at me..."

All eyes darted back to Fiona.  "Right, this blind woman I kinda 
remember... you know, I don't remember her saying ONE WORD.  Some mage I 
didn't know read the poem, and while she was at it, the blind woman was 
just darting around the candles, like she could see 'em.  Listening 
like.  And when the poem was over, we all got cookies! Come to think of 
it, mighta been All Saints Day, but you'd think I'd remember it better 
then."

Ken blotted his fingers on his napkin to make sure they were sauce-free 
before letting them drape over the girl's shoulders.  "S'ok, I don't 
remember my first All Saints Day.  I was kinda sick."

"Really?" The word came out rather squeaky, for she had jumped a little 
at his touch, but not flinched away in earnest.  "That sucks!"

A little shrug, and as he passed his plat across the table in a tacit 
request for seconds.  "Ran's never had an All Saints Day."

At which Fiona nearly spit out her pizza but instead banged her fist on 
the table, not hard enough to upset anything, just enough to make her 
point.  "That sucks even more! Ok... That's it! You have a party for me, 
I get to drag you alllllllllllllll around town come All Saints Day. 
It's only fair."

***

Nudging his uneaten crusts to one side, Ran reached for another slice 
of pizza.  "Okaayyy... Just what is this All Saints Day holiday about 
then? People dress up in their best bedlinen and walk about the streets 
carrying lit candles in both hands and cups of vodka on their heads 
while singing ABBA songs a cappella?"

***

"Don't GIVE THEM ANY IDEAS!" Ken burst out rather frantically, waving 
at Fiona, who had been otherwise nibbling rather quietly in the mean 
time, and presently seemed to have no idea why attention had been 
called to her in especial regarding the manner of Terran Holidays.

In the ensuing, very embarrassed silence, they all rocked back in their 
seats and began to giggle behind their hands.

The younger boy sighed after awhile and rubbed his eyes though, "Okay, 
that was a little too close for comfort."

Ran's eyes grew very wide and it was up to their guest of honor to 
defend him.

"Was not! And you know it! Scaring the shi- crap out of your own 
boyfriend like that! Tell the truth now!"

"Alright, alright! I WILL! Just Pretty PLEAAAASE take your shoe out of 
my shin."

She did, and without further fussing on anyone's part, told Ran 
herself.  "All Saints Day is the only holiday everybody here 
celebrates.  There's lots of white lights and silk strawberry vines, 
you know strawberries were the only things growing here that were good 
to eat when Antiterran's came, right? And well, there are lots of 
parties and stuff on stages and Claire's makes special ice cream!"

"Woul, that, and it's kinda tradition for people to leave their doors 
open, regardless of how cold it gets." Ken nodded at this, as if 
assuring himself such things were true.  "So the spirits of the saints 
can walk through your house, and people who want free booze too! They 
get these GREAT BIG feuds goin' about whose mulled wine's better!"

(OOC: Just as a note, All Saints Day mulled wine is different from 
other mulled wines readers may catch Valdemarian's drinking; it has 
violets in it and frequently many VERY odd ingredients limited only by 
the whimsy of the Terran Aristocracy...)

***

"Sounds...normal. Although maybe celebrating strawberries during  
late Fall is kind of strange." He shrugged. "But I'm game so long  
as no drunks bother me. *And* I get to taste some mulled wine. I've  
never had it." 
 
Fiona gave him a curious sort of look, but Ken only smiled. Ran  
nibbled some more at his slice, then lunged forward to hook his hand  
around the back of the cake box to shove it forward. "Go on, Fiona,"  
he urged between swallows of soda. "Isn't it some sort of tradition  
that the birthday girl cuts the cake and takes the first slice?" He  
grinned at her, then rose to get the ice cream from the  
refrigerator. Paused just as he lay his hand upon the carton, and  
glanced back at her over his shoulder.  
 
"Of course, you can save it all for later if you want. It's all  
yours, anyway."

***

Fiona shook her head quite furiously at the mere IDEA she would save 
CAKE- *her* cake no less! -for the ever amorphous and uncertain time 
of "later". "Don't think so!" She caroled at last, and dove for the 
box, dragging it to her own place, and, in the process, nearly 
upsetting the empty plate before her into her lap. Ken managed to catch 
it, and granted it the grace of joining his own on the counter, as far 
from the sink as any place on the counter might have been.

She took her time admiring her dessert.  Lots of time.  

"You like cake then?" spoke Ken, more out of the sake of sound than any 
vested interesting in conversation. Besides, she looked so charmingly 
lost in the field of icing.

"I love cake! And mulled wine! Ran, that's all the more reason I'm 
dragging you around this All Saints Day! And that's that, even if you 
do feel like being agreeable today!"

That announced, she took the knife from Ken's hand and began to let it 
slip through the otherwise unsullied buttercream.

Halfway through the layer of white fluff, she paused, and drew it up to 
admire the crumbs before continuing, and muttering under her 
breath, "It's my favorite kind, too. Thanks!"

***

"Hmpf.  *I'm* not the disagreeable one of this trio, Fiona-chan," Ran 
muttered, slanting her a look.  "And you're welcome."  

Wrinkling her nose at him, Fiona took a huge bite of cake, waving her 
fork with a flourish.  Ran drummed his fingers idly at his empty soda 
can, then set it to one side.  

"I guess we don't get any.  I guess the birthday girl's 
going to keep it all for herself."  He smirked, and scooped up the 
pint of ice cream he rescued from the freezer.  Taking the scoop, he 
dug out a good-sized lump of the stuff, and expertly plopped it into 
one of the waiting bowls.  This he pushed towards Ken.  And winked, 
cocking a subtle nod in Fiona's direction.  

"We'll save the chocolate sauce for later."  
      
***

"So~unds go~od to me~e!" Ken sing-songed as he too dove for a lick of 
icing from the helpless sheet cake. Having gathered a good-sized glob 
on his finger-tips, he popped it into his mouth, and with many an 
overly-dramatic "mmm" sucked and sucked for a moment before pulling it 
out with a loud pop.

Fiona heaved a pouty sigh, lopped off the general area he had just 
desecrated, and plunked it down on the nearest plate, which she then 
shoved in his direction. "Just make sure to take baths when you're done 
and leave a note with the laundry I need to use bleach."

"Yes, mommy, and thank you for the cake, mommy." he replied, having 
wavered a moment between his helping of cake, and his helping of ice 
cream. With a whistle, he finally gathered a little of both on the end 
of his fork, and so set about devouring both together.

"You're welcome, dearie. Just so long as you tell me the Japanese word 
for... let's see now... 'lewd'."

"Well, eroi would work..."

Fiona cleared her throat and shrieked, "Futari eroi da na!"

All grammatical errors aside, Ran's own helping of cake, which was even 
more tremendous than Ken's, got to be neglected for the time being for 
yet another spate of giggles and some pink tongues flashing this way 
and that.  

***

In the end, Crawford parted ways with his new acquaintance some $50 
poorer than he was at the start--the price included drinks and one 
fresh cigar, as well as a blow job in the alley behind the bar. Said 
acquaintance wasn't a whore, oh, no. Rather, he was a student simply 
looking to supplement his income. Minimum wage paychecks didn't go very 
far, he'd told him. Outwardly, Crawford took it all in like the 
simpleton businessman the boy believed him to be. In truth, though, he 
saw it all for the lie it was. Probably he'd had trouble in the past 
getting clients, and so invented that little lie. Some men didn't 
really like to have to turn to whores, anyway--that whole "I don't want 
to pay" deal. Crawford didn't really have to pay, but... 

/He had a pretty rosebud mouth, that little boy slut. Talented enough 
with it, too.  Not like you, though, Aubrey. But I didn't expect him 
to be./ 

He fumbled with the knot of his tie, loosening it just a hair; 
unbuttoned his collar. If he had a briefcase with him, he would look 
like the businessman he was passing himself off as for certain. The 
thought made him smile; he caught the ghostly reflection of it as he 
looked over at the display of a boutique full of women's clothing.  
A blue, scoop-necked sundress splashed with large yellow and 
orange hibiscus blossoms grabbed his attention. 

/You'd look good in that. Wonder if I should buy if for you?/ 

Crawford grinned at nothing, at himself, and then headed for the 
entrance.  A blast of frosty, lilac scented air hit him in the face 
when he opened the door.  

/I guess you wonder why I bother with this?/ 

/I can hear your arguments, even from here, even in the silence./ 

No sooner had he approached the display when a saleswoman hailed him.  
Her abundant black hair hugged the back of her head in a sleek chignon, 
and her voice belied her Caribbean origins.  Crawford pointed out the 
garment in question, and told her the size he needed.  At her request, 
he followed her into the spotlit recessess of the shop.  

/I like the feel of a gun in my hand. Slick metal encased by fragile, 
warm flesh. The way it rocks in my grip when I fire it. The way people 
look when the bullets pierce their flesh. It's a hell of a rush, 
Aubrey. It's sexual./ 

She'd steered him directly to a rack full of sundresses, and he 
watched as she thumbed throughthe selection until she'd spotted what 
she sought.  The saleswoman turned around, her carmined lips curled 
in a smile.  From one slim, red-taloned hand hung the dress 
he'd wanted.  

/But then, what isn't?/

***

The afternoon had slipped away without any one of them noticing; really 
noticing, at least enough to know sadness for it.  No such thing 
lingered now in the sanctuary- just the smell of cigarettes and old 
glass though no one had smoked since they had left and front doors had 
been left parted to the still sultry sun, catch the last of it before 
it faded.  For now at least, it was only that the shadows were long, 
half the saints glowing while the others fell into dimness and despair.

They had no plans to go elsewhere, or to close the church doors.  If 
someone dared come, they would not last long between two telepaths, a 
madman and Nagi.

Farfarello slept on the doorjamb like a dragon sleeps on a bed of gold.  
His chain was wound round one of the holy water fonts that he had drank 
deeply of before nodding off.  It was full of white wine now.  The 
empty bottle still abided on the coffee table, though some of the 
liquid still settled in glasses in one of the spare bedrooms where the 
Marlow children had dressed and left behind all they would not need for 
their games.

They had only just now come into the master bedroom where the boy 
waited for them, sitting in the middle of the black.  He was nestled in 
the arms of many varicolored pillows brought from every other room in 
the house, looking every bit the pasha in his white, silk pajamas.  
Before him shimmered a halo of sex toys, all new, and all in 
pearlescent plastic or Lucite that caught the fading light.   The 
accompanying chains were clear teal with bits of glitter in them.  

Schuldich had already proved he couldn't break them.  He sat now on the 
long ottoman at the foot of the bed, toying absently with his collar 
and its chain wound around one leg of their enormous bed.  He wore 
little else besides a pair of clover nipple clamps.

Now and then he would turn to his sister and smile at her where she had 
perched on the bench beside the dresser.  She had bought the most 
complicated underwear in the shop, and in a blue-green iridescent stuff 
that sounded like cellophane when she moved and had enough frills, 
enough bone in it to make her look every bit a mermaid such as earthly 
souls imagine just before they sleep.  

In the silence, she unhooked one of her garters, and let the ribbon of 
it trickle down against her thigh.  This rather than saying anything, 
for they were enjoying the tense calm of their playmate as he could not 
at all make up his mind what to do with them.

***

A few pillows tumbled to the floor as Nagi rocked forward onto his 
knees and moved to the end of the bed, his hands falling onto 
Schuldich's shoulders. He pulled him back so he could better see over 
his shoulder, wanting a look at his nipples, so bruised purple and 
no doubt aching in their dainty pinchers. He wanted to run his 
tongue over them while they were so 
held. Certainly he would. 

His teeth sank into the side of the Schuldich's neck, and he tugged 
none-too-gently upon the dangling chain, the plastic of which was so 
cold in comparison to Schuldich's skin. He felt him stiffen against 
him, heard him gasp ever so softly, and Nagi's lips curved in a 
satisfied little smile. 

/Good, pet./ 

He rose just a little to kiss him, his tongue darting into the other's 
mouth to tickle it, devour him. He was possessed by the urge to tumble 
him onto the bed and ravish him, just as his guardian would do.  

/No, I don't want to be him. Why would I? Knowing the future's just 
boring, and besides...It seems I can pretty much screw you when 
I want./ 

/And I will.../ 

Nagi pulled away to stare into the other's smirking eyes, and then 
he released him. His feet hit the floor with the scratch of silk on 
silk, and Nagi walked over to Savil. The bit of ribbon swaying against 
her thigh bewitched him, as did the stocking that clung to her flesh.  
It was that last which found itself under his questing hand as he 
knelt before her. She felt cool, but he sensed the heat emanating from 
the shadowy apex of her legs.  Seeking it, he slid the top of her 
stocking down and kissed the flesh it had covered, inch by inch until 
he'd cleared her knee. The pointed, cellophane-crisp panels which 
flowed from the bodice crackled as he brushed them aside, the 
stocking falling away from her slim calf and ankle. Nagi dropped 
it into a puddle to the side and ran his hands up her naked leg 
until the fingers of one just grazed the knob of bone which marked 
her right hip. A blush had stolen over the girl's face, but he knew 
it wasn't from shyness. Not Savil. 

The muscles beneath his hands tensed as he lifted that trapped limb 
from atop the other. Nagi hooked one hand around the back of one knee, 
holding it back as he positioned himself between them, making it hard 
for her to block his view anymore. The leaves of her skirt were parted 
slowly over her thighs, and Nagi bent his head to gently bite at the 
strip of fabric which hid her. She tasted salt-sweet already. 

Nagi kissed her there and felt her twitch slightly under his mouth. His 
hands left her, and he stood up. Eyes bright and his own face flushed. 
Nagi held out one hand to her, taking one step and then another away 
from her and towards the bed. 

"Come and play, Savil."

***

Saffie nodded, all slow grace and a much older lady.  The smooth way 
she moved, brushed into her lover's arms away made Schuldich chuckle a 
little, though he bit his lip when he felt his collar jerk towards the 
boy's hand. 

One stocking on, and one stocking off, his sister flowed onto the 
sheets, a little disturbance of scintillating color behind a smooth 
white ribbon of another child.  And it was another's thoughts she 
answered.  "No, no, Nagi-chan.  My blush? It's nothing we've exactly 
*kept* from you.  Not like that.  It's more..."

Her hand and the few liquid-filled bracelets running round it flickered 
into a fragment of sunshine and turned slowly there, as if taking a 
hold of just the words she wanted.  Rather though, the elder telepath 
spoke for her a moment... "...more you never needed to know."

"Then again, Bradley hasn't even found out about it."

"It's something he has no interest in." When Schuldich purred, it was 
not as he did when he touched that lover of his, nor much like the way 
he murmured to himself when he ran his hands through his sister's 
golden floss- a little wondering chime, not quite his voice, not 
innocence exactly.  His eyes closed, and he ran his lips and the tip of 
his nose over her neck, breathing deeply for an instant as his arms 
folded around her.  She was smiling, he was not, but she took one of 
his hands and drew it over her lap.

::You taste... a little shy all of a sudden.  Cool-like... and puffy.::

::I know, Liebechen.::

::You're not worried about me.::

::Because I have no reason to be. C'mon! Let's have a little fun for 
ourselves.  That's what being on the bottom's...::

::All about!::

They smirked at one another, and just as she started to draw herself 
back towards him, Schuldich's hand he had been leaning on shot up and 
encircled one of her pert, little breasts through the stiffness of her 
bodice.  The fabric crinkled under his touch, and he jingled at her 
when she drew his leg around so she was sitting beside his lap.  Her 
fingers stayed where they had been, and so did his as her knees parted, 
and the tiny band that hid the cleft of her sex, sent askew by Nagi's 
nibbles, started to slip away.  Slithered off her then, and hooked 
itself around the boy's left slipper.

"You see," her brother began then, wandering away in his own nostalgic 
ways.  "All those whispers you've overheard about what her life was 
like before you knew anything about it? They're all true."

"Every last one."

"And more."

She reached down then, and drew the bare nether lips apart.

Saffie's vagina was encircled with a starburst of pale red scars.

***

Nagi didn't quite believe what he was seeing; indeed, it was the first 
he'd known about it. They had not gotten that far in their explorations 
of each other the day before. Almost, but not quite. 

"Tattoos? I mean...that's what it looks like..." He bit down on his 
lower lip.  "Not that I should have seen it. Why did you show me 
anyway?" 

Her skirts rustled, legs sliding across the covers as she rose from 
her brother's embrace to kiss Nagi. Her fingers stole across his 
cheeks and down, and wove together at the back of his neck. Nagi 
glanced at Schuldich over the top of her golden head, and then 
fell back into her warmth. 

"I don't understand..."

***

"Because," Saffie said then, her lips dipping down under his chin to 
brush over his throat as he breathed, "It's just one of those things 
you should see."

Her brother threw back his head and outright laughed, collapsing onto 
the sheets with both of his hands folding behind his head.  He looked 
like rather he was gazing at the sky through the ceiling of the church. 
"Well, that, and it's better than you flipping out in the middle of 
something.  Namely us."

Savil nodded against her lover's chin and pulled herself up so she was 
sitting in his lap.  Drawn by the intangible wisps of her thoughts, 
Nagi's hands rose up on to the hooks of her bodice, but once they had 
settled against her, she left them and took his eyes all for herself. 
One thin little whisper followed itself into his mind, and it was not 
her thoughts, but her brother's.

::They're real, and I didn't put them there.  Was done with... oh, 
paring knives.  Pocket knives.  Butter knives.  One mark at a time.  
Isn't it nice they turned out so symmetrical? The rest weren't, I had 
them treated, but those... probably just my grotesque sense of beauty, 
but I like them, and she never asks them to go away.::

Her eyes hadn't left him in all that time, and it seemed as her smile 
failed to waver, she hadn't tasted those sentiments at all.  Not that 
moment, but at one long before.

Schuldich tried to draw up against their lover, but his chain kept him 
at the foot of the bed, so he heaved a pretty little sigh and kissed 
his ankle then, running his tongue over the bones there.

***

A tiny gasp fell from Nagi's lips, for he felt the wet little laps of 
Schuldich's tongue as keenly as if he'd had some other part of his 
anatomy.  Savil mimicked her brother, running the pink tip of her own 
down Nagi's throat. The boy closed his eyes in pleasure, and once more 
his fingers found the fastenings of her bodice. One by one the hooks 
separated from the eyes, more and more of her flesh bared for his 
caresses. Nagi kissed her cheek even as he rubbed the sole of his foot 
along Schuldich's naked thighs.  

The last hook came free. The boy curled his hands around the stiff 
boned sides, and drew it away from her flesh. Mouths melded as if he 
thought he needed to distract her. 

/My poor princess.../ 

She drew away from him, a look of slight puzzlement playing over her 
face. Nagi curled one hand upon her silky little throat as he stared 
sadly down into her bright eyes; she looked so beautiful, with her hair 
curling over her dainty bosom. Pink tips flirting with him in fields of 
gold. He brushed his thumbs gently over the swollen tips, and with a 
shake of his head, he gave her a thin sort of smile. 

/I hate the thought of anyone hurting you, is all.  I can't help it.../ 

Her hands slipped into the his shirt to dance over his collarbones, and 
he gave her another kiss upon her forehead. Savil nuzzled him, still 
clinging to him as he moved away a little to pay her brother his due. 
Schuldich had stroked his legs through the fabric which still clothed 
him, touching him as much as his chain would allow. Nagi would do the 
same to him; more even. He fell into the redhead's arms without 
hesitation, sliding his hands over his arms to fell the give and take 
of muscle as he lowered his head for a demanding kiss. 

Oh, god, he wanted him so badly. It would be all romance and tenderness 
with Savil, which he truly enjoyed and dearly needed. But with 
Schuldich... 

The man drove him into a frenzy like no one else. 

He felt his shirt part across his stomach, slide off his shoulders and 
Schuldich's hands met his skin. Nagi scrunched his fingers in his hair, 
pulling just a tiny bit, and the chain which held the redhead broke 
with a grinding scream away from the bed post. It undulated upwards 
like a cobra to a flute, and settled itself into Nagi's outstretched 
hand. It was then that the boy broke off his exploration of Schuldich's 
mouth, and proceeded to inch backwards away from him, back to Savil, 
chain still held tightly in his hand. 

His shirt slithered off his back, and Nagi wrapped an arm around Savil, 
hugging her close as he jerked hard on the chain. 

"Come, pet."

***

Schuldich slunk closer until he had drawn himself up against the boy.  
Words or not, his tongue crept out over his own lips, and wet them 
until they shimmered slightly in the golden summer light that had bared 
itself outside their window.  

/But it always looks like that here, doesn't it?/

He could almost feel three answers, rather than two, and none of them 
he could rightly call his own.  Not really.  When he kissed Nagi again, 
it was a darting, coy affair.  He sensed something had changed then in 
his pet, purposes of his powers aside, and he leaned deeply into him, 
ravaging his mouth as Schuldich's sister looked on.  

Saffie- now wearing only a few play jewels and her garter belt with a 
ring of unfastened ribbons around her waist -sighed and let her arms 
encircle Nagi's waist.  Nagi's lover mirrored her gesture with his 
hands, pulled her closer and closer until her chest was pressed 
tight to the edges of his own, skin to skin just for a few loose 
ringlets of her hair that had caught between them.  

He left the elder of his companions then in earnest, drawing Schuldich 
over his lap, where he lay, still as a sleepy cat, and watching him 
play with his sister through the threads of his bangs.  

She spoke then in a whisper choked with kisses as he held her.  "I told 
you I don't ever remember being sad, Nagi-chan.  Not really.  So you 
can be sad for me if you want, but you don't have too.  It wouldn't 
hurt me if you wanted to be happy. It would make me happy too."

His only answer was too wispy and profound for speech, and she drank it 
up from him as his hands descended onto her breasts, rubbing them in 
slow, waving circles before his lips followed.  Saffie's hand crept 
through his hair, stirred his mouth to creep against the center of her 
ribs as his fingers slip below her waist. 

"You can touch me all you want to.  Go on.  You can't hurt me."

But before he could get his fingers in her, Schuldich had set his lips 
to Nagi's stiffness through the silk of his pajama bottoms.

***

Nagi's lips hesitated in their play over Savil's ribs, the boy gasping 
softly from the caress he'd been given. His fingers just touched the 
outer folds of her sex, cupping around her warmth. She was so small and 
sweet. Another little tug of his cock, and Nagi raised up a little to 
mouth the pink tip of one breast, nudging his hips forward in 
encouragement. 

"Take them off," he whispered, curling one arm around Savil's back to 
lower her down to the mattress. He kissed the vale between the silky 
little mounds of flesh, took the neglected bud in his mouth and gently 
sucked upon it. Savil's fingers threaded through his hair, and his own 
coaxed her open. He felt himself be stripped, felt Schuldich's hands 
slid up his bare thighs to part them. His mouth was warm where he 
touched him, and Nagi felt he might scream from the suspense. Schuldich 
was in no rush, it seemed. 

If he wasn't, Nagi saw no need to hurry, either. He left off his 
worrying kisses and turned his attention to the swollen petals of her 
sex. She was already glistening, smelling of honey. He massaged the 
hidden cleft with the tip of his thumb and felt her stiffen alongside 
him. Already, her cheeks and throat were flushed, her hair tumbled 
about her shoulders. Nagi slipped his hand lower to invade her body, 
one finger only and as carefully as he could, working it in and out 
as he might move within her. His sex twitched at the thought of it, 
just as the redhead curled it in his grasp and licked him. Against the 
little-girl curve of Savil's lower belly, Nagi moaned softly, and he 
withdrew from Savil enough to tease once more the sensitive nub above 
the entrance to her body- first with one finger, and then with 
his tongue.

***

They had a little daisy chain over the deep ocean of the sheets by 
then: Saffie halfway lying on her side among the pillows, fighting to 
keep herself propped up on her elbow as her lover rubbed her with his 
lips, and parted her now and then with his tongue; Nagi himself strewn 
this way and that between her and the foot of the bed, naked now as 
they were; and Schuldich at last, curled up at the boy's feet against 
the mattress, just high enough to reach his cock and sinking slowly in 
the little field of toys they knocked astray.

The boy rose from kissing her, and drew her arm to his hand so she 
fell at last, panting softly, even where he no longer paid her such 
attentions for the moment.  He kissed each one of her fingers amid his 
own muted gasps as her brother lavished the tip of his sex, but no 
more.  One last look she gave Schuldich, but he didn't meet it.  At 
least, not with his eyes.

Nagi did sink against her wet skin once more, nibbling her all over 
again. She looped her legs over his shoulders now, and began to coax 
him closer, bit by bit, not only to feel the warmth of his on her 
thighs, but to draw this tongue into her at last.

He, without words or thought to what her body had convinced him of, 
began at last to drink from her opening- swift, teasing sips with his 
nose against her aching clit and his mouth all over her.

She was quite still for someone so enraptured, moaning and murmuring 
only.  He wondered, and so did her brother as he worked his tongue 
around their lover one more time and then held him in his throat.  She 
felt herself drip onto the covers.  Then her back arched, and her hips 
tumbled upwards away from the bed, and she shuddered wordlessly against 
Nagi. 

::I... came already.::

::Go Liebechen!::   

She cracked just one eye open to see (and then return) his thumbs up as 
he got to his knees and whispered.  "Master, may I kiss you here? 
Please, I need to play too..." as his fingers grazed Nagi's ass.  
He was blushing, too, in nearly the same places she was.

***

Nagi peered dazedly over at the sprawled form of his male lover from 
the pillow of Savil's slender thighs. One arm still hung about her 
waist, and he petted her side in mimicry of the slow tappings of 
Schuldich's fingertips. He didn't think he had the strength to speak; 
the breathless murmur of his voice surprised him. 

"Yes, pet, you may." 

At once, he felt the first of many kisses upon his skin there, and at 
first he was content to lay there and let Schuldich explore at his 
leisure. But... there was the matter of the redhead's erection, rosy 
and slim amidst a patch of red-blond down. It quivered as the other 
moved over him, beckoning for his touch. Nagi shifted just a little 
onto his elbow and looked around at the scattered toys that laid on the 
other side of Savil, moaning just a little from a caress. Savil caught 
his face between her cupped palms and kissed him sweetly. He gathered 
her to him for yet more while the other teased him. 

And then she pulled away, her fingers tangled in his hair and stroking. 
Nagi blinked dreamily up at her, fumbling amongst the toys for that 
which he sought. A bottle of lube. Tasteless, colorless, non-staining. 
The shallow well of his palm filled quickly with the watery-looking 
liquid, and Nagi transferred it without preamble onto Schuldich's sex. 
It dripped into his skin, the sheets, the lush V of hair marking his 
groin. Schuldich's legs fell apart, allowing the boy access to the 
whole of him, and Nagi edged away from Savil's lap to toy with him 
further. 

***

Schuldich sighed hotly as the boy's fingers darted onto his penis, 
stroking the liquid there all around. Still, it was thin stuff, and 
just thin enough to trickle down the juncture of his thighs and his 
body, where it tickled, begged to be touched, and was left by the boy, 
who had else in his mind when it came to playing. Saffie flopped down 
to watch, seemingly oblivious herself to the delicate and shimmering 
trails of her own juices that had been drawn down her legs.

::It's all quite fair, really.:: This thought to her brother, who met 
it with a sharp murmur rather than anything sheerly of his own mind. 

Nagi in the mean time kissed him here and there, but not where the 
lube worried him. A look of lusty defiance took Schuldich, and he held 
still for his master, as if daring him to say he was allowed to handle 
himself and quell at least one of his aches.

The boy stirred away from him suddenly to find his sister caressing his 
forehead, and then the dainty fingers of her other hand offering what 
had let seep from her. "So.." she began as he gave her hand the same 
attentions as her brother's cock, "Do you want to have...?"

"... or be had..?" Schuldich licked his lips at both prospects, and let 
his hips twitch upwards in punctuation for their inquiry.

***

Nagi finished cleaning Savil's baby finger, and parted from her with a 
kiss upon her warm palm. The surging of Schuldich's cock within 
the tunnel of his own slickened hand had reminded him of his own 
neglected erection, and he squirmed a little in anticipation. It 
would feel so nice to have Schuldich stretched out beneath him. But 
it wasn't always as satisfying, in a way. 

Smiles came to his lovers' faces before he even gave his answer. "I 
want to be taken." 

Schuldich yelped in glee, and Savil kissed his brow, his cheek. Nagi 
had stayed upon his side, thinking that the other would simply take 
him from that angle, but no. He quickly found himself on his back, 
arms pinned above his head by one of Schuldich's hands. The other 
kneeling between his spread legs and leering at him. A little thrill 
rippled through him. A question. 

/...Yes,/ he replied hesitantly. /Cuff my hands./ 

A grin, and he heard the clinking of said toy as the redhead pulled 
it out of the pile. Nagi closed his eyes when the other bent over 
him to affix the restraints to his wrists; the aqua chain was then 
hooked around the center ring. Savil's lips touched his briefly, and 
when he opened his eyes, he found her leaning over him, smiling 
softly, before she made to taste him again. 

/But first,/ he thought at Schuldich, /put one of those vibrators in 
you. I want to see you squirm a bit while we're at it./

***

"I'd do that for you anyway, Herrchen. You know I would," Schuldich 
leered a moment at the child below him, before rising, stretching his 
back as he curled his arms around himself; all for show, and there was 
no way any of them could have failed to know that.  His slick skin had 
little stitches of red in it where the metal had rubbed him to hard, 
and they only served to highlight the pallor of his skin, the wet flush 
of his sex. He drew away then to where his sister knelt picking through 
the toys.

They found what they wanted beneath Nagi's foot- a simple anal vibe of 
clear blue that ended in an over bulb.  Saffie doused it with lube and 
her brother kissed her cheek when he took it from her. Sitting straight 
up then with his legs parted, he leaned back in her arms, lifting his 
hips from the covers and so baring himself. The pucker of his rosebud 
protested the presence of the bulb, and he gasped an instant. Paused, 
and smiled at the boy supine at his side; watching for a moment before 
he thrust the vibrator inside with one firm push, leaving only the 
chord dangling out of his body, his skin there red now too, as if 
struck. He was panting.

"Takes practice," was all Schuldich said then as he slunk over to his 
master, and pressed the controller into his hands. A moment then 
feasting on his nipples before he flipped Nagi onto his stomach and 
took to tonguing his entrance, letting his teeth graze him now and 
then.

"Be nice!" Savil protested, though there was no way of course she could 
have seen what her sibling did, and the verbal admonishment did not at 
all appear to be her only one, the way he winced at it. In an instant, 
she had the chain on the dog collar herself, and had pulled it very 
tight to keep the other telepath from Nagi's body for the time being, 
even where he lay paused weeping at his entrance.

"You want a fish to fly? Interesting!"

"Fish *DO* fly of course, just not like birds." Her tongue darted out 
at him, as she flopped back down on the covers, her breasts and lips 
just under their lover, where he crouched, waiting for Schuldich, who, 
with a muffled yawn, surged forward into his waiting body.

***

Nagi bit his lip to keep from crying out, holding in his breath until  
his lungs burned from lack of fresh air.  It hurt like hell to be  
forced that way, even though he was expecting it, even though he  
wanted it so badly.  He flipped the switch of the remote onto low as  
payback.   
 
Arching, Schuldich rolled his hips, wriggling just the tiniest bit  
inside Nagi, working his slick hardness against his flesh until the  
boy's gasps of pain turned to soft moans.  Until the tension left the  
slim lines of his body, and Nagi began to press his ass against his  
groin in mute surrender.  Schuldich gripped his hips, holding him  
upright for a thrust.  He would have flopped bonelessly down if it  
had not been for his foresight, or for the presence of Savil beneath  
him.  She was something warm and lovely to toy with as Schuldich  
ravaged him.  Nagi settled his hands over the top of her head,  
burying his hands in her hair, and leaned down to steal a kiss.  And  
then another, more deeper tasting of her mouth.  She murmured softly  
in encouragement, raising her arms above her head, her hair sliding  
back to bare her breasts.  Two hands entwined, and Nagi nuzzled down  
her throat to the slight valley of her chest.  There he licked,  
tasting faint sweat and perfume; feeling the hot thrumming of her heart,  
rapping as it was out of time with his breaths.   
 
Nagi flipped the lever to high, to low, and then back to high, and  
licked an unsteady path over one nubile breast until his lips met its  
tiny, rosy nipple. 

***

They were both trembling with the pulse of the vibrator, and Schuldich 
had to hold onto something to keep himself from melting recklessly 
against the boy.  As delightful as that might have been, there was so 
much else to play with his wits about him!

One hand settled on the covers, and with the other he took Nagi's neck.  
Was pushed away at first... it made him snicker a little.

::Oh! Herrchan, do you seriously think I'd hurt you? As maddening as 
your little toys are to me? When my sister loves you so.::

With a feigned sigh, he drove himself into Nagi's body, until the body 
under him had gone stiff with his invading presence. A shrug, and 
rather his fingers wandered over the boy's chest, his stomach and the 
heaving breaths that wracked him now and then; his palm stole over his 
nipples, ring finger into his navel and there pressed into him there 
too, hard as he dared between thrusts.

In the silence she had given for the time being, Savil's wrist bobbed 
over her eyes, and she arched at a daring little nibble, not hard 
enough to bruise, but still... his lips skated down, just below her 
chest.

::Don't you want anything else of me? Hmm?::

And a sly little smile that looked so familiar took her lips.

***

He was aching, his sex quivering madly.  Schuldich wouldn't touch him  
there even though he'd begged him to mind-to-mind, and now Savil was  
making him offers.  Such things he'd only ever dreamed about since  
that first day in the garden, but never dared actually ask.  Or do,  
even.  And there she was giving him permission in both words and  
actions, the latter more obviously when she stretched her lithe legs  
out on either side of him.   
 
"Savil-chan," he rasped, "I can't.  I'll hurt you.  I..."   
 
Her fingers slipped down to brush his lips into stillness, her touch  
replaced quickly by her kiss.  Schuldich paused long enough in his  
thrusts for that much to happen; his hands roaming never stopped,  
never drifted down as low as Nagi wished them to.   
 
"But..."   
 
Savil gathered him close, drawing one leg up to slyly rub his thigh.   
He found his eye drawn to the golden mound at the center of her,  
thinking of the sweet warmth which lay there, meant to cradle him.   
 
Pulled down by the strength of her embrace, pushed down by  
Schuldich's weight, Nagi sank between her legs, limbs which rose to  
embrace him as her arms had done.  He felt the tip of his cock brush  
the hidden folds of her sex as he fell.  She gasped softly, the sound  
muffled by a kiss.   
 
"I'm sorry, Savil-chan," he whispered, and at once, in unison with  
Schuldich's own smooth fall, Nagi slid inside Savil. 

***

Where the boy's lips crushed down on hers in lusty regret, Saffie 
didn't cry out, didn't wish to, not really; in the gust glowing sunset 
wine that leaked from her thoughts, it was her brother who cried out, 
and his legs began to shake where hers were still. 

When his wet lips ceased to drip, he smirked too, and held still among 
his sighs, just tasting, just savoring.  Her, and the perplexity of 
their lover.

There had been nothing in her to break any longer, and the two dainty 
fingers that had breeched her the day before but tickles of tickles 
compared to all of of his sex now wrapped up in hers.  Tight, very 
tight, and a little achy, like the path a needle leaves behind on a 
palm it brushes by mistake.  But the closeness of they two together, 
her scars on his untouched skin... she would feel him shivering inside 
her, unwilling to stir.

But god! Even then! Even motionless as the light of a star from a 
million miles away! This was sweet wine and the tang of silk, sugar 
breeze and the heartbeat of a hundred apoplectic halcyons if such 
things ever did exist.  She believed in them now and could feather 
their feathers, and their dew grinding into her, followed by Nagi's 
hand, stealing up against her clit.

::Angel Moy...::

He knew his name in her thoughts, from the first brush of it on his own.

::Why do you fear me when you know me so well? Lust is not only yours, 
though I would make it yours!::

While his considerations wheeled around this, she shrieked in delight, 
and clutching him to her, speckling his cheeks with her kisses as her 
brother bore down once more on Nagi.

::It's our fate to give up on being virgins very early.:: Her brother 
told them; the boy for the first time, and for her, one more utterance 
long strung like flowers through the clouds of her thoughts.  Had he 
stepped into them as far as he dared, there would have been flowers 
indeed, red ones probably.  For now though, there was only his hand on 
her flushed cheek, come up to check her eyes for tears, though there 
were none.  She just kissed him, too, and he left her.

Still wet from her earlier orgasm, Savil Marlow had no troubles rocking 
into Nagi's first sway deep into her belly.

***

Nagi moaned helplessly, clutching at the bedspread, at her slim 
shoulders, shaking the tiniest bit.  The remote had fallen to the bed 
while he played with his sylph love, and this Nagi quickly took in hand 
again.  The switch snapped from low, then after a pause, to high.  
Above him, Schuldich gave a breathy little moan of his own, bringing 
a smirk to the boy's lips--which faded under another desperate thrust.  

He could no longer really think straight, being both assailed and 
assailor.  She was so snug and warm, he was eager to bury himself 
inside her, only quelling his rising urgency out of consideration of 
her.  Anyone else, it wouldn't matter if he'd hurt them, but Savil 
mattered to him.  She was really the only person who did so, and as he 
pressed a damp kiss upon her flushed cheek, he told her as much.  

Her hands folded together around his neck, and he kissed her again, 
licking at the swollen roses of her lips.  Rocking into her as smoothly 
as he could, Nagi angled so his cock rubbed her clit as he moved 
against her.  He clasped her hips to brace himself, their kisses 
growing more heated until he broke from her and buried his face in 
her hair.  

Crying out sharply, he reached his peak, his fingers digging into 
her soft flesh.  

***

Nagi's cry rang for a long time in the sunlight that still drenched the 
halls outside the master bedroom.  Saffie reached not to silence him, 
but instead gathered her hot, oozy sex against his, clenching and 
pushing, and sipping him all over until she fell back in his arms, 
crying aloud herself now, as he worked her still, even where his climax 
had ended, and Schuldich was still slamming into their lover. And kept  
up fucking him until the two children where quiet again, but for the 
pulsing of their breaths.  Still red and sticky, he pulled himself from 
the boy and threw himself down against the covers.

They both stared at him and the elder telepath just knotted his hands 
in the sheets.  His legs, flexed, and his hips worked against nothing, 
but as he lay before them both, it looked as if he made love rather to 
the air, the afternoon, the peace of it all sewn up in the plastic 
shaking in his body.

When he came, he went limp and sated beside them and sipped at his own 
cum; said nothing, thought nothing.  

"Yes," said Savil.  "It really *was* quite awesome, if that's how you 
want to put it."

She among them got to her knees then, and pulled herself up to the 
pillows once more, a trail of the mingled juice of her body and Nagi's 
following her as she moved.  She did not see it until she had settled 
on the covers, and drawn herself open.  The starburst around her slit 
had grown a bit more crimson in the center, having just that day been 
opened fully for the first time, but there was no blood, no bruises 
there, and she dipped her fingers inside to lick up the liquidthere.  

"Is it good?" Schuldich asked, and from his words the sense he was 
repeated something that had already been said mind to mind was really 
quite plain.

"It's very good!"

"I'm glad."

They both laughed, and he cracked his shoulders, yanked the still 
trembling vibrator from his body and tossed it aside before he flopped 
down beside her, his head just under her arm.  They both patted her 
free side, and like a cat to an unfamiliar lap, the boy came.

"We must do this again sometime," they told him.

***

The rest of the dinner had continued at much the same pace, with 
teasing and chatter, most of the latter coming from Ken and Fiona.  
Ran had been content to sit back and listen to them between bites of 
cake--the slice so large that he'd felt the need to linger over it.  

And when at last the final bite of cake had settled between Fiona's 
ice creamed lips, Ken crumpled his spent napkin and tossed it onto 
the table by his own empty bowl, and excused himself to check on Prim 
and Yuriko.  Ran gathered the dishes and took them to the sink, where 
he stacked them on the counter.  The faucet came rushing on with a 
nudge of finger and thumb, wisps of steam rising into the air.  
Behind Ran came a soft, drawn-out sigh, and he twisted halfway around 
to see Fiona still sitting upon her stool, hugging the cake box to 
her chest.  He gave her a grin as he reached for the bottle of pink 
dishwashing liquid.  It smelled strongly like flowers, and, 
unsurprisingly, made thick, pale pink suds.  

"You can go if you like," he offered, glancing back at her.  "And you 
don't have to do any work tonight.  Just read your book and relax.  
Or go out, if you'd rather.  Midnight curfew if you do, though."  

The toot of a party horn sounded behind him, and he smiled at the 
airy clouds of foam.  One by one he began to lower the dishes and 
utensils into it, denting the misshapen puffs the water and soap had 
worked so hard to create.  The stool's legs skipped across the floor, 
and he heard the slap of her feet as Fiona rose and left the table.  
He imagined her leaving the kitchen, but instead, she came up 
alongside him, gazing at him intently as if he were a curiosity 
instead of her archnemesis.  Fiona held her presents to her chest 
protectively, but said nothing--not even when he laid a damp hand on 
her brow, and brushed her bangs away from her forehead.  

"You're welcome, Fiona."  

Her eyes widened a little, and Ran wondered if he had offended her by 
touching her.  But then, the girl drew closer, and laid her head 
against his arm for a second, blink and he'd miss it; and then she 
skittered away.  The door to her room opened and closed, leaving a 
deep silence in her wake.  Ran stared at the empty doorway for a 
moment longer, then turned to his task.  He was on the third plate 
when he heard Ken's familiar bouncy tread on the stairs.  The boy was 
humming to himself, the sound growing louder and louder, until it was 
obvious that he was in the kitchen once more.  

In the next moment came the pounding of Ken's footsteps, and he 
grabbed around Ran the waist and jerked him away from the sink, 
making him slosh water onto the floor.  

"Ken!" Ran scolded.  But the other boy wasn't having any of it, 
apparently, for he didn't bother to let him go; nor did he make any 
apologies.  Instead, he simply kissed him on the back of the neck.  

Ran sighed.  "You are impossible."  

Ken murmured something like an assent, hugged him hard, and then let  
him go.  Ran shot him a look over his shoulder as he stepped up to 
the sink again.  

"Such a chipper mood you're in, and after seeing what Prim and Yuriko 
have been up to, too.  I'm hesitant to ask about what sort of 
decorations they've put up for tomorrow."

***

"Oh, they haven't put anything up yet.  They're just *planning* what 
they'll put up *tomorrow*," Ken said as he got onto the tips of his 
toes and let his lips graze Ran's ear as if rather he whispered 
something arcane and criminal to him.  

He had no sooner spoken, than the other boy turned and gave him the 
most underwhelmed, unimpressed, soul-crushed look ever seen to 
compliment a smile.  

"You know... if I didn't know better, I'd almost have to say you're 
lookin' forward to all this, messed-up way..."

Which got him nothing more than a grunt and a loud sloshing of suds as 
the purple eyes fluttered away from his own.  He let them go, hoping 
they hadn't seen his tongue as he popped it out in quick revenge and 
set about seeking a dishtowel to go over the table top with, and 
subsequently the broom and dustpan who were called in to do away with 
all the crumbs that had dived for the floor.  

/I like being impossible after all.../ He thought as he gathered up the 
noisemakers, and stood still a moment, listening to the night air 
humming in the steamers of his head, the sink as it gurgled away, the 
hum of someone playing with a CD player... no, not upstairs! But in 
Fiona's room.  No song he knew though, and doubted he would have known 
even if he could make all of it out.

He was glad that he knew he had to keep his voice down when he asked 
what he said what he did to his lover.

"Y'know, I didn't really think you'd take a shine to her.  Not like I'm 
sorry you did or anything.  I don't even know what I'm tryin' to say, 
'cept that I'm happy."

He was just about to do away with the noisemakers, but instead, since 
there were only three, and they were all more or less pristine, he 
slipped them into his shirt pocket so that the tips poked through the 
top. 

"I kinda like having her around."

*** 

"Yeah.  I do, too."   
 
Ran's hand lingered a moment upon the edge of the white painted sill  
as the boy gazed out over the yawning stretch of yard beyond.   
 
"I never thought I would."   
 
Ken came nearer to him, wrapping a hand around the one dangling at  
his side, and Ran tore his attention from the twilight-tinged green  
vista to regard his lover.  A smile lit up his face, causing the  
other to respond in kind.   
 
"Are they gone?"   
 
No verbal answer as such was given.  Instead, Ken leaned in to nuzzle  
his ear; whether that was an assent or not, Ran couldn't tell.  Then,  
Ken started sucking on his lobe, and he no longer cared either way.   
 
"Don't tease..."  
 
Another tiny nuzzle, and his lips descended upon his cheek.  A hand  
curved around the back of his head, and their lips met.   
 
"Ken..."  
 
And met again with a touch more passion.  He found himself in Ken's  
arms, fields of blue to greet pale violet when the other boy did at  
last pull back.   
 
"You are very wicked," he chided gently, hugging him.  "I wonder if I  
should read to you at all?" 

***

"Yeah, I do bad stuff all the time and I got no excuse whatsoever.  You 
wanna call that wicked or evil or skanky or whatever I don't..." Ken's 
reply died with a gasp of dismay, though he didn't exactly try to flee 
as dismayed people might do.  "You're not gonna read to me!? NOOOOOOO! 
Ok! Ok! I was just tryin' to live up to what Fiona called us! That's my 
one and *only* excuse!"

Ran just groaned, and unable to decide between pulling his lover's hair 
and kissing him soundly on the lips, did both. Ken could not have been 
more pleased with that; down to the kisses themselves, or the whole 
evening really.  He finally realized though that he had slid his hands 
up the back of the other's boy's shirt, and had been unconsciously 
rubbing him there.

/Hmm.../

The ice dispenser not being far off, he filled one palm with cubes and 
popped it back under his lover's shirt.

Then he ran up the stairs as fast as he could, screaming, "Tasukete!"

"Should we help him?" Prim wondered, swinging her tape measure around 
and around.

"I think he wants to be chased.  He's frisky like that." Yuriko replied.  

***

"Ken! Oh, damn..." Ran jerked the tail of his shirt out of his  
waistband, shaking it out frantically and sending about a half a  
dozen ice cubes clattering to the floor. "Ken!"  
 
His laugh filtered down from somewhere above. A shiver raced through  
Ran as he plucked his damp shirt away from his cold skin, and the boy  
bolted away through the doorway for the stairs. He took them two at  
a time with little strain, Ken's own footsteps echoing through the  
air from the cases above. He'd had a quite a head start on him,  
but...Ken wasn't the runner that he was for all his training. He  
moved as lightly as he could, as if more stalking his prey on a  
mission than trailing after an impish lover, and soon Ran found  
himself on the very last landing, the one leading to Ken's bedroom.  
The door was wide open, but not one light burned within, and all was  
still inside.  Ran strode in and whisked the door shut behind him,  
locking it for good measure; the key he slipped into his jeans  
pocket.  
 
"Ken?" 
 
Silence. A smile tugged at his mouth. "Ah. Wanting to play?" With  
a little chuckle, he glanced about, looking for some sign of Ken in  
the sparsely furnished room. "You could have picked a better room in  
the Villa to hide from me in, you know. There aren't many places in  
here where a person could conceal themselves."  
 
To his left, Ken's massive wardrobe stood--a likely choice for a  
hiding place. As steathily as he could, he crept over to it,  
gently laid his hands upon the curved metal handles, and flung the  
doors open. Clothes swayed and shuddered, but no Ken lounged  
within. Ran closed the doors, then turned to look around again.  He  
pondered the other wardrobe, the only real choice left to him, and a  
probable one--it being empty after his exodus.  But when he'd gotten  
halfway across the room, a figure sprang from the floor beside the  
bed, and a pair of strong arms slipped around his waist, dragging him  
sideways for a few stumbling steps.  His attacker began to laugh even  
as he scrambled to keep them both on level footing.   
 
"Idiot..." Ran muttered once they'd come to a halt.

*** 

"Thank you," said Ken.  His lover swayed in his embrace, seemed to go 
just a little bit limp after afterwards for all the unhappiness he was 
trying to convey.  That, and he certainly didn't try to get away.  

"What? Behind the bed's the most obvious place ever! 'cept for maybe 
under the bed... damn, guess you know you know my favorite hiding-place 
now. I'll just have to try somewhere else next time."

Nodding his head in his most assuring fashion, he stepped away.  And 
promptly yanked off his shirt which went flying into a corner.  Hands 
on his hips, he asked- "So, it's your birthday-eve.  You want me in my 
PJs or... well... less than that?"

***

"Well," Ran began, "I'll take you any way I can get you.  However,  
perhaps it would be safer and far more prudent for you to be clothed." 
 
Looking him over, Ran paused for a moment, then added, "But, it is my  
birthday, and maybe we've been too prudent of late."   
 
He slipped his glasses off, folded them up and set them on the night  
stand.  Gathering his shirttail in both hands, he jerked the close- 
fitting garment over his head, letting it slither down his arm.  It  
fell with a whisper to the floor beside the bed.   
 
"I thought it was only fair," he said, gesturing at the discarded  
shirt.  "I mean, for you to be naked while I stay dressed..."  He  
shook his head.  "But maybe I should have asked how you might want me  
instead of making such an assumption?" 

***

Ken just winked and went for his belt, snaking it out through the loops 
one at a time before letting it go clinking to the floor, where it lay 
about his feet as he slipped off his trousers, and shortly enough, his 
boxers, all of which he stepped out of and kicked into a corner with a 
wink.

"Well..." he began as he sashayed over the floor then, "how 'bout we 
just say you know me well enough to guess, and maybe you don't haffta 
ask."

He shook his head, and they had drawn so near by the his hair brushed 
his lover's shoulder, but no more of him. The mosquito netting around 
the bed was swaying where it had been case aside, and somewhere in the 
haze of it and the single bedroom light that was on, Ken had flopped 
face down on the sheets and was swaying his legs back and forth, 
beckoning with his feet.  Only his eyes peered out from the crook of 
his arm, and there was nothing in them less than pure mischief.

***

At first, Ran didn't know what to make of his behavior, nor was he  
exactly sure as to how he should proceed.  It was all very well and  
good to make brazen statements, but when nothing was going to come of  
it, and he knew nothing would come of it.  He felt like an utter  
bastard for even thinking about it--and Ken wasn't making it any  
easier.  He was struck by the impulse to grab his shirt and bolt from  
the room, pride be damned.  If Ken hadn't looked so appealing lying  
there, all soft focus and obviously amused, he probably would have.   
 
But he didn't.  Ran was reminded all over again of how much he wanted  
him, and he had to force himself to turn away from the gauzy  
silhouette upon the sheets.  With his heart tripping in his chest, he  
whisked his jeans off in the most unconcerned way he could manage and  
slid onto the bed through the part in the curtains, drawing them  
closed before he stretched out on his side by Ken.   
 
He opened his eyes and slowly feasted upon every sleek curve and hard  
muscled line he could see of Ken's body until he felt himself  
stirring.  And then he rolled over onto his stomach, gathering his 
pillow to rest his cheek on. 

***

Ken's response to this was a sanguine little "mmmuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu" just 
under his breath, but just shrill enough to distract the attentions of 
his lover from what matters of sleep and misty moonlit dreams that 
might have followed, reveries surely on this night (he hoped).

His lover, with a displeased little sniff, glanced up from the sheath 
of satin his cheek had claimed, and canted a questioning little look at 
him.  Was his murmur for the slap on his bottom? For the curving 
distance between them? For something else.

Something else indeed! Ken groped under his pillow a moment and came up 
with the book Ran had been reading him before his exodus from the 
master bedroom of the tower.

"Ple~ease..." he whispered.  Although, because of the way his lips were 
skewed by his sudden flopping down on the bed, it really came out 
somewhat closer to 'pe~eas'.  "Just a little?"

***

Releasing the pillow, Ran rolled onto his side and took the proffered 
book. "All right," he said.  "I did promise you I'd read, so..."  He 
sat up, settling the book in his lap, and flipped it open to where 
he'd marked it.   
 
"Get comfortable.  And don't fidget.  I can't concentrate if you do."   
 
Ken murmured his joy as he rolled over onto his stomach again, and 
Ran cleared his throat, and began to read where he had so long ago left 
off.   
 
"Tristan reached down with his hand and took Victoria's small hand in 
his.  She did not pull away.  
 
'Did you see that?' asked Victoria, who was gazing out 
over the landscape.   
 
'I saw nothing,' said Tristan.  'I was looking at you.' 
 
Victoria smiled in the moonlight. 
 
'You are the most lovely woman in all the world,' said Tristan, from 
the bottom of his heart. 
 
'Get along with you,' said Victoria, but she said it gently.  
 
'What did you see?' asked Tristan. 
 
'A falling star,' said Victoria.  'I believe they are not at all 
uncommon at this time of year.' 
 
'Vicky,' said Tristan.  'Will you kiss me?' 
 
'No,' she said. 
 
'You kissed me when we were younger.  You kissed me beneath the pledge-
Oak, on your fifteenth birthday.  And you kissed me last May Day, 
behind your father's cowshed.'   
 
'I was another person then,' she said.  'And I shall not kiss you, 
Tristan Thorn.'   
 
'If you will not kiss me,' asked Tristan, 'will you marry me?' 
 
There was silence on the hill.  Only the rustle of the October wind.  
Then a tinkling sound:  it was the sound of the most beautiful girl in 
the whole of the British Isles laughing with delight and amusement.   
 
'Marry you?' she repeated, incredulously.  'And why ever should I marry 
you, Tristan Thorn?  What could you give me?'   
 
'Give you?' he said.  'I would go to India for you, Victoria Forester, 
and bring you the tusks of elephants, and pearls as big as your thumb, 
and rubies the size of wren's eggs.'   
 
'I would go to Africa, and bring you diamonds the size of cricket 
balls.  I would find the source of the Nile and name it after you.'   
 
'I would go to America--all the way to San Francisco, to the gold-
fields, and I would not come back until I had your weight in gold.  
Then I would carry it back here, and lay it at your feet.'   
 
'I would travel to the distant northlands did you say but the word, and 
slay the mighty polar bears, and bring you back their hides.' 
 
'I think you were doing quite well,' said Victoria Forester, 'until you 
got to the bit about slaying polar bears.  Be that as it may, little 
shop-boy and farm-boy, I shall not kiss you; neither shall I marry 
you.'   
 
Tristan's eyes blazed in the moonlight.  'I would travel to far Cathay, 
and bring you a huge junk I would capture from the king of the pirates, 
laden with jade and silk and opium.'   
 
'I would go to Australia, at the bottom of the world,' said Tristan, 
'and bring you.  Um.'  He ransacked the penny dreadfuls in his head, 
trying to remember if any of their heroes had visited Australia.  'A 
kangaroo,' he said.  'And opals,' he added.  He was fairly sure about 
the opals.   
 
Victoria Forester squeezed his hand.  'And whatever would I do with a 
kangaroo?' she asked.  'Now, we should be getting along, or my father 
and mother will be wondering what has kept me, and they will leap to 
some entirely unjustified conclusions.  For you have not kissed me, 
Tristan Thorn.'   
 
'Kiss me,' he pleaded.  'There is nothing I would not do for your kiss, 
no mountain I would not scale, no river I would not ford, no desert I 
would not cross.' 
 
He gestured widely, indicating the village of Wall below them, the 
night sky above them.  In the constellation of Orion, low on the 
Eastern horizon, a star flashed and glittered and fell.   
 
'For a kiss, and the pledge of your hand,' said Tristan 
grandiloquently, 'I would bring you that fallen star.'   
 
He shivered.  His coat was thin, and it was obvious he would not get 
his kiss, which he found puzzling.  The manly heroes of the penny 
dreadfuls and shilling novels never had these problems with getting 
kissed." 
 
There, Ran paused, fingers brushing the pages beneath them thoughtfully 
as he tried to swallow back the lump in his throat.  
 
"Would you like me to continue?" he asked softly.   
 
 
(OOC: excerpt from Stardust by Neil Gaiman, 1999, 
Spike Fiction.  No infringement intended.) 

***

Much to Ran's surprise, Ken shook his head, and since Ken also happened 
to be lying on a pillow at the time, hair rumpled up into his eyes and 
swept out in erratic little curls and webs around his face.  His lover 
nodded then, and began searching the covers for the bookmark, which 
turned up shortly enough, ready to be tucked in between the pages. 
 
It didn't exactly get there though, for there was something about Ran 
that had been bothering him since they'd both climbed into bed.  Ken 
could see from where he lay the milky-white of the other boy's hands 
where they cradled the book, and that the one closest him still wore 
the smear of a dark bruise around the thumb, that his eyes had fared 
little better so long underneath the purple glasses. 
 
He looked so tired, and steadily more gloomy, and more wont to linger 
in some gentle trouble of his own mind, though his words hadn't 
faltered, not once. 
 
Ken took his wrist then, and when his fingers settled around it, the  
bookmark slipped to the sheets, dropped.  The traces of the wound still  
showing on Ran's skin he kissed... once... twice... and at last 
caressed them with his lips and the very tip of his tongue. 
 
And then he whispered with his palm so close to his mouth, his lover 
more felt the vibrations of the words than heard them.  "You don't have 
to do all that to get me to kiss you."

***

His skin tingled where Ken had kissed him, and, as if seeking similar 
treatment, Ran's trapped fingers moved gingerly over Ken's cheek.  The 
book was closed sans marker, and set carefully aside on the nightstand 
beside a glass carafe of water.  Ran withdrew his hand from Ken's and 
slid across the cool satin to lie beside him, only a sliver of space 
between them.  One arm on the pillow to support his weight, he leaned 
over his lover.  Ran smoothed Ken's tumbled bangs from his forehead, 
and kissed him there. 
 
"And if I brought you a fallen star, would you marry me then?"   
 
***

Schuldich opened his eyes sometime not too far from midnight.  Nothing 
had stirred him from his sleep save the wish: amid his musings over the 
day's silver dainties from the hearts of others, he had started to 
thirst for a cigarette, and realized then he hadn't had a single one 
since the day before.

/Actually, the last one I had was.../

He knew, but just waking, the memory would not come into him at once.  
When it did, he snickered to himself and rubbed up against Saffie's 
chest with his cheek.  (She smelled especially nice to him, like a 
fresh peach almost.)

/...the one Brad lit for me just before bed last night./

It hadn't even crossed his mind all day then that perhaps he would like 
a quick smoke.  Or a long smoke.  Any sort at all.  

/...just one of the sins mon petit lapin has debauched me with./

His lover's presence slept.  For now, his sister's beside him did as 
well, a streak of glossy moonlight on the dark sheets.  Their lover's 
dark head rested on her stomach, and one of her hands was in his hair 
still.

And his own hair, too.

He thought of rousing her for just a moment, to show her, but in the 
end, he plucked her fingers from him, one by one, and kissed them once 
he had slipped off the bottom of the bed' laid her hand on the pillow 
beside her, and with a wispy whistle, tip-toed out into the hallway.

He stepped around their fallen clothes until he came to the small side 
room where they had started- probably the chambers of a novice once, 
though they'd made a kind of dressing room of it, and Saffie's little 
gowns (and some of his own!) lived here, peering like excited children 
from the open door of their armoire.  On the door of it was a horn of 
flowers crossed with a bow.  This his fingers grazed as he padded to 
the chaise lounge by the window.  When he sat, he drew the damask of 
the curtains aside, made one of the perfume bottles on the window sill 
sing.

Outside, the moons had just crossed a line of stars he didn't know, but 
then again, no one knew the names of Terran stars, and Schuldich for 
the time being did not know where a lighter was.  Certainly there were 
cigarettes in the pocket of the pants he had worn.  Just two, but... 
nothing to light them with.  He was just about to complain to himself 
about having to trek all the way into the sanctuary after one, when he 
spied a salt-cellar of matches by the candles that lined the top of one 
of the cabinets.  

He sank back into the cushions at last, lit clove glinting in one hand.  
In the garden a nightingale began to chime with the clock and night 
danced on around him.  Were it not for the cast off foam of the boy's 
dreams, Schuldich might have told himself, that for one moment in his 
life, he was without question, alone.  No Miranda.  No Saffie.  No...

/No Crawford./

He smirked, and let his head brush again the arch of the chaise for a 
moment.

Jasper, of course, hooted just then, and came trotting into the room, 
the pounds of pewter chains that kept him suchered to the earth, 
clinking behind him.  He fussed and flapped his useless wings.  The 
moons granted him no wish.

"Stupid owl," Schuldich said, reaching down after the irate little 
bird, who he plopped in his lap just to see how the claws felt on his 
naked thighs.  The bird, unblinking in the evening that it knew so 
well, shook its head and pecked at his master's knee.  

Schuldich just blew some more smoke rings, and though he was not even 
half finished with the stalk between his fingers, reached down after a 
second.

He found something that must have been among the trinkets moved from 
the master bedroom nightstands for their play, for there the teal glass 
water pitcher' there the silver jewelry box full of aspirin; there a 
pale, thin thing between them.

With a shrug, and a pat on Jasper's feathered head, he opened the 
envelope his lover had left for him and read what lay between the 
petals of paper; no drags from his clove in between, not a hush for 
Jasper who cooed to him all the while.  Not one stealing glance to what 
the moons had wrought. The silver-bearing ink showed up well enough, 
like little rents of starlight in the blue paper.  

Jasper seemed to be the first to notice Schuldich's gaze still crept 
about the diaphanous shadows there, much longer after anyone else might 
have slipped through them twice.  The moons second, for they rolled 
behind a real bank of heavenly mist to try and make him look away.  And 
then Schuldich himself, for he shook his head, and put the letter back 
in the envelope; laid it with the last cigarette in a heap of glass 
beads from the seashell on the dresser.

With Jasper in his arms, he went into the sanctuary, and there poured 
himself a shot of Stolichnaya, which he rimmed with sparkling French 
salt before he held it up Saint Minver in a toast.  Or perhaps the hint 
of the devil there beside her image.  Either way, before he went back 
to his room, he stood his owl on the Madonna's head, and found the 
hand-puppet of Brad that had been laid under the one of Youji, and 
shortly flopped beside the real Brad's letter.

When he fell asleep again, he was smiling.  No more, and no less 
enigmatically than the ocean of moonbeams might have made him seem to 
be. 

***
 
It was night where Crawford was as well.  But where Schuldich lay 
sleeping so contentedly, Crawford was now awake and staring at the 
broken reflection of the pearly Anti-Terran moon upon the choppy 
waters of the river beyond.  An empty cocktail glass rested in his 
hand; he'd drained it dry of the currant flavored Vodka he'd filled 
it with earlier.  He wanted another one, but was too reluctant to 
leave the window--as if he might miss something important if he 
took his eyes away from the river.  Maybe he would.  It wouldn't 
be the first time he'd failed to catch something due to 
inattention; precogs didn't always get things right.  Just usually.  

Like now.  

/So you read it after all,/ he marveled to no one in 
particular.  /And my piano is still in one piece, and all my 
remaining clothes are still in the closet where I left them.  What I 
wrote must have pleased you./  

He received no answer, but then he hadn't expected one.  Schuldich 
was long asleep and dreaming.  Fragments of thoughts, unspoken 
yearnings, hidden memories:  all sifted down through his lowered 
defenses to rest in Crawford's head.  Such an event was rare, hence 
Crawford's unwillingness to sleep.  

/It's not like I really have to be anywhere in the morning. I could be 
there, with you.  Before you even awaken./  

And he could leave.  He didn't have to take the jobs, he could 
refuse.  He could break into their accounts anyway and take his 
promised pay, and get back to Terra before anyone was the wiser.  But 
if he did so...

Would Schuldich take it as weakness if he returned now?  Would he see 
it that way himself?  Was he weak anyway for even considering it?  

"Ah," he murmured, raking his straggling bangs out of his eyes, "who 
the hell knows?"  

Crawford padded back to the bed, tugging at the knot which held his 
robe closed around his nude body.  It fell with a rustle to the 
floor, baring him to whoever might be spying, if indeed anyone was 
watching him through the open window.  The covers he flipped back and 
slid under, the pillows stacked before he lay his head upon them.  
Moonlight silvered the floor and walls, shattered only in his sight 
as long as it took for the tiny orange-yellow flame of his light to 
sear the end of a cigarette.  A long drag, and a stream of blue vapor 
sped from his lips in a rush.  The cloves burned his tongue; Crawford 
ran the tip of it along his front teeth.  

/You know, I could easily start to hate smoking./  

Still no reply came, but he chuckled anyway.  And then he fell 
silent, musing upon his memories of how his lover looked when asleep; 
long red hair scattered about the pillows, cheeks flushed.  How 
smooth his skin felt under his hands.  All the thousands of little 
things about him.  

And so his mind worked until the clove stick had all but burnt itself 
out.  Crawford stubbed it out automatically, closing his eyes before 
the last wisp of smoke had faded.  

/Guten nacht, Aubrey./

***

Ken slept for much of the night with his head on his lover's shoulder.  
When he did wake, he found the moons had set, but the sun not yet come 
close and that he was still breathing Ran's breath as his own.

He knew it had only been a few hours, but for that, but for the warm 
body beside him or not, he had no hope of sleeping any longer.

For he knew this way, his lover truly slumbered.  Without fear of 
waking the boy, he kissed him longingly, there in the dark.  Then he 
rose and sat for awhile on the edge of the bed, having tucked his 
pillow into the other boy's arms so he would not grow cold.  It almost 
felt to him as if someone had asked him to stay there in the lake of 
satin undines that was their bed; as if the floor could do harm to his 
feet.  He wanted to but...

A glance to the mirror, the window pane, they all found no one there 
but they two.  With a sigh, he tried to make it sink in.  But it just 
wouldn't.

/This is your tower! This is your bedroom! Your lover! Your evening and 
there's no one waiting for you in the hall!/

He got no time to answer himself; when Ran murmured in his sleep, all 
the little wights of his fears took flight.  He carried their presence 
everywhere his found footsteps took him.  His apprehension little by 
little, became a drowsy excitement as he gathered what he wanted from 
the living room.  It was hard to find some of the things in the 
darkness.  His robe had come with him, but he didn't put it on until he 
took the pad of pastel paper and the rather displeased snow-white pen 
with him onto the deck.  

After awhile, he ended up throwing the pen into the grass, and it was 
not seen there until many years later, when a little girl found its 
scratched and faded hull in a patch of wildflowers and deemed it 
nonetheless a treasure.  Back inside back in the present, Ken found a 
pencil to take its place.  All the pages he had left ink-marks on he 
gathered under a brooch Yuriko had found and mistaken for a 
paperweight- it was gold loops set with pink synthetic pearls.  The 
leafs still stirred with the night air somersaults, but this way at 
least, didn't blow away.  The pencil had an eraser when he started, 
didn't when he'd finished.

After all, Ken wrote for nearly two hours, scratching words in and out, 
and second guessing every syllable.  He wrote, in other words, exactly 
how he might have been expected not to.  

When he was finished, he had one clean copy, ten ruined pages to show 
for his work, and no idea what to do with any of them.

Vaporous, chill morning;
Come again in silence soft!
And all that dares to
Break its spell is the shine on
The sharp edge of your blade.

The drafts he shredded at once, leaving rather his favorite copy 
between the floor of the deck and the errant jewelry- the receipts and 
ruined printouts swallowed up the scraps well enough, but what to do 
with that last piece, the one he liked...

/And something tells me I'm the only one.  Oh well... it won't look 
good in the morning.  But at least I did something./

His little tanka, all bound up, he slipped into the banister of the 
deck, the place where the edge of the metal plate running below the 
bars had been curled under to keep the edge smooth.  There the rain 
could not know it if it came, and no one would ever think to look.

He wondered if he'd even remember himself, but put his tablet back.  
Yawned, and crawled back into the place his pillow had taken to wait 
for morning, and kiss Ran now and then.

/So you want to marry me?/

"Baka..."

And then...

"Aishite..."

***

Far from Valdemar, hidden deep in the wood, lay an ancient holding,  
one still very much occupied: a squat cottage over whose walls ivy  
vines clung, so thick in places that they obscured the deep brown of 
the bricks  beneath it; an elegant willow grew so near the house that 
its  branches brushed the roof and walls on that side, spilled through 
an  open window to drip the occasional leaf upon the book-covered desk  
which stood on the other side.  There was a pen for a trio of goats, 
and   a small chicken coop to the right of it; a well, and a 
flourishing kitchen garden to the  left of it; and masses of late 
summer wildflowers dotting the tree- ringed yard--all now asleep 
and oblivious to the moons' bewitching  waltz in the cloud threaded 
sky overhead.   
 
At that late hour, a soft light glowed from the windows, and the musky 
scent of burning herbs tinged the  air.  Before a low hearthfire, on a 
wooden floor covered with rushes, sat a motionless figure in a heavy, 
hooded brown cloak.  A large globe of flawless emerald lay in his hands, 
and he was bent so as if he were gazing at something within its winking 
depths.  The  figure scarcely drew breath, and all around was quiet 
until the moment when the ormolu clock on the mantlepiece chimed out 
the hour of one.  At that point, the shadows beyond him moved, and a 
pink-gowned child with two waist-length white plaits stepped forward 
and lay her pale hand upon the shrouded figure's shoulder, shaking it 
as lightly as she could.  
 
"Master?"   

At once, her teacher answered her summons, jerking his head up with a 
sharp breath.  "Past midnight already?" he panted.     
 
"Yes.  What did you see?" Nycaise asked as she knelt beside him.    
 
"Danger.  Lies.  Bitter, bitter sadness." 
 
"No face?"   
 
He shook his head.  "It was the same person, but this time he had a  
dagger," he murmured, gazing down at the ball he still cradled in his  
hands.  "I couldn't stop myself..."   
 
The child slid from her chair to kneel behind him.  Her arms wound  
loosely around his shoulders.  "You mustn't dwell upon it."   
 
"I know.  But it's so real while I'm in the vision.  It's hard to  
keep it all separate."   
 
"Do you get there in time?"   
 
Again, he shook his head.  "I don't know.  The image faltered before  
I could see any further past that point."   
 
Glumly, Nycaise rested her chin on her teacher's shoulder.  "So he'll  
be lost to the world."   
 
"Now, now.  We must try to hold onto hope, Nycaise," he replied with  
a pat of her entwined hands.  "After all, I do have the advantage."   
 
Releasing him, she sat back.  "You think you can save him?"   
 
"I'm certainly going to try."  He picked up a much worn black wool  
felt bag and slipped the emerald globe inside of it, and got to his  
feet, pushing the hood from his face as he turned to face Nycaise.   
Her red eyes were filled with worry, and he smiled as warmly as he  
could in the hopes of reassuring her.  
 
He set the velvet covered globe back in the box he kept it in,  
and set the box inside a low cabinet which stood to one side of a  
pair of massive bookcases.  As he straightened up, his hands flew to  
his head, and he grimaced.  "Ohhh..."   
 
"Another headache?"   
 
"As always," he sighed.  "But it's nothing a cup of the right sort of  
tea won't cure."  He rolled his shoulders.  "But nevermind about me.   
You need to get back before Mistress Ashildr realizes you're gone-- 
and that you are with me." 
 
Nycaise made a face, and he laughed.  "Yes, I see you haven't  
forgotten the last time that happened."   
 
"You ought to try to get on her good side."   
 
"She has a good side?!"   
 
Nycaise rolled her eyes, then darted forward to kiss him on the  
cheek.  "Farewell, my teacher.  And get some *rest*!"   
 
He waved her off as his pupil wove a series of sigils in  
the air with her fingers, leaving fast-fading streaks of light as  
they moved.  Then, with a parting smile for him, she stepped forward 
into the  invisible patterns she'd drawn, and disappeared.  He 
heard the  slightest humming, and then it too died.  

Wincing from another sharp pang in his head, he padded across the
room, scooping up the pitcher as he passed the table.  He took a 
sip, but the rest of the water he poured into an iron kettle, which 
he then hung on a swinging hook over the fire.  He tossed two more 
peat bricks onto the fire, stoked it thoughtfully, and then crossed 
over to the open doorway.  The yard was empty save for the mass of 
nodding, moonlit blooms, quiet except for the sleepy bleats of the 
goats, the lonely call of an owl.   


*****