"Cooking. There's coffee in the flask -- you broke the percolator -- and about two gallons of water in the fridge." No one should be that perky and helpful. No one. Specifically no one in his house at whatever time this was and no one who was wearing a bandage on his arm over some injury that he was probably responsible for. The word "coffee" had him moving forward without his conscious intervention though.
He stopped again, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and get the thumping to at least back off a little. Something hit his chest and he grabbed for it on instinct. Painkillers. Veterinary strength, just like it was practically impossible to find in Dimmity. By the time he'd managed to get the lid off and shake three out into his hand, Matthias was standing in front of him holding a bottle of water. Pet took it and raised his head to down the pills.
When he looked back down, Matthias hadn't taken his eyes off him.
"What? I mean -- Thank you?" Gods, this colt had him saying "please" and "thank you" like some society filly -- just kept throwing him off somehow. Matthias just nodded slightly and turned back to his cooking. "Why?" Pet managed after another, long, moment. His head was arguing, persuasively, against saying anything with more than one syllable.
The microwave dinged, making Pet wince. He reached for the coffee flask -- no point messing around with mugs at this point.
"I need a place to stay for a while. Thought I should make myself useful." Matthias' voice was so godsdamn reasonable he just found himself nodding like it all made sense.
"Now hang on!" Pet started, before his head reminded him that yelling was maybe not the way to go. "What makes you think you can just show up here and mo...."
Pet looked down as Matthias put a plate in front of him. Oatmeal. Oatmeal with its own moat of thick cream and dark molasses sugar melting over the top. Matthias continued to speak as though Pet had never interrupted in the first place. "I went into town earlier, got a few things. I borrowed some cash out of the jar in the other room. I hope you don't mind, but I didn't have that much left. I fixed the mailbox, too -- I might not have money, but I have got my tools."
Pet just stared at him, gobsmacked. Matthias turned back to the work surface and carried on chopping. He didn't interrupt his monologue either, just flicked a look back over his shoulder every now and again. "I could take a look at the main doors if you like, too. Not that you're going to need a car, but a building like this -- rust will spread."
Pet took a good mouthful of the oatmeal, washing it down with coffee. Couldn't think of a thing to say, really, in the face of this much self-possession. The damn kid looked like he was more at home than Pet was. "You must get a fair amount of human visitors, too, with Chairon Services. Need a place for them to park. You could set up some sofas and stuff in the corner of your main room, maybe turn it into a meetings area
- Carm always said I was good with organizing things and that space is just sitting empty right now."
It ought to sound officious and -- dammit! -- the kid was muscling in on his place and his business, and... and the coffee was good and the oatmeal was better and his head might be splitting, but that ever-present itch was remarkably absent.
"I've got a shifter in town deals with all that crap, colt. I just do the code."
"Oh, okay. I can see where having an office in town would be convenient for your clients." "That and they don't have to know I'm a centaur. Sal can pretty much pass. Makes things easier."
"Oh." Kid didn't know what to say to that, did he?
Pet took another long draught of coffee.
"Okay. Kid-"
"Matthias." Pet took a breath and carried on. "Fine. Matthias. You can stay. Okay. Just for a few days, till you get yourself straight. Just don't get in my way." *** He'd been coding for a couple of hours or more, almost got this section to play the way he wanted it to. It had taken long enough for him to get into the groove, tuning out all the unfamiliar noises of having someone else fussing around his place, and now the kid was watching him.
Made his shoulder blades itch and his tail twitch, being watched.
"Fuck off, would you?" he growled, without looking away from the screen.
"Sorry." Matthias stepped closer. "I didn't want to interrupt, just -- thought you could maybe use some more coffee." The tall flask was placed on the section of work surface Pet used as a desk. Pet sighed and looked ‘round. "Yeah, well, you did. Just keep the fuck out of here when I'm working," he growled. He took a couple of steps, coming around to look at the lad. "Thanks for the coffee though," he added absently. Politeness cost nothing, or some such bullshit.
"You're welcome." Pet nodded and turned back to the screen, reaching for the coffee as he turned. Only somewhere in there he must have jostled Matthias, because the fans did nothing to hide the hiss. Fuck. Just what he needed to brighten his day, a shiny new guilt trip.
"You ok?"
"Yeah," came the reply in that tone of voice that meant punkass kid was trying to come over like a big strong dude. Matthias was still holding his bandaged arm once Pet executed a more careful turn. Pet folded his arms and stared Matthias down. Fuck, he'd probably baby-sat the colt not so long ago, and it looked like some things still followed old patterns. Matthias took a couple of steps closer and cautiously held out his arm.
Pet's movements were calm and efficient, running over the arm and then untying the untidy bandage. The kid had sliced a nasty gash right across his bicep and the wound was red and angry looking.
The kid had... Pet's ears flattened as he caught his own soft-soap. Yet another triumph for the great Patrocles. Beating up homeless teenagers. Way to go.
"Did you put anything on this?" he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral. "Just salt water. I've had worse."
Pet froze. He'd been going to go fetch his med kit, but instead came back to look Matthias in the eyes. "You've had worse?"
With luck the kid wouldn't be able to figure his tone of voice.
"Why do you think I left?"
"You're not old enough." "You think maybe I should have stuck around for the Fall?"
Pet closed his eyes on the images of the last Fall in Taymore's herd. Matthias didn't say anything. He was just there, his body inches away, his breathing even, his coat smelling oddly familiar in the heat.
"Right -- come on. I've got something that'll sort this out," Pet said in the end, moving purposefully towards the bathroom. Stick to the things that can be fixed.
There were advantages in moving into an ex-abattoir. Rubber matted floors, movable walls and a bathroom big enough for several humans, or two centaurs, were amongst them. Someone else to clear away the broken glass was new.
The bank of four showerheads ran across the short side and at the opposite end Pet had stacked a couple of crates of medical supplies and a battered trunk that held a nest of ratty towels. He rummaged around until he found the jar he was looking for.
"That the same stuff you used on these?" Matthias could have been asking how he took his godsdamn coffee for all the emotion in his voice. Yet his fucking fingers were tracing over the scars on Pet's haunches, stepping slowly closer as he followed the broken lines of white hair. The touch made Pet's skin shiver. Fuck. Never thought he'd see the day. His near hind leg snapped up, kicking at his own belly and he sidestepped neatly away from the colt.
Took him a moment to find his voice and the damned kid hadn't budged an inch except to take his good hand back.
"Yes." Pet cleared his throat. "Yes, except a good clean cut like that will heal up just fine."
"The wire?" "Yes."
The silence didn't seem to bother the kid one iota. Made his skin itch though.
"Barbed wire and then the five days it took to get here and get cleaned up. You thought hitch-hiking while a horse was bad -- try it covered in blood some day."
Matthias raised an eyebrow and a small smile.
"Well -- don't. Not if you have any sense in you."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Fucking kid was laughing
at him. Swear to Gods. Pet tossed Matthias the jar, shaking his head, and tried to go back to getting some work done.
*** Kid stayed good to his word at least and left Pet undisturbed to finish the section of code he was wrestling into submission. The itch of being away from the herd was quiet, but that was the only clue he had that the colt hadn't done the sensible thing and done a runner.
By the time the mid-afternoon sun beating down on the metal roof had well and truly beaten the portable fans into uselessness, Pet had made enough progress to justify himself a shower and a beer. He half expected to find Matthias in the kitchen. The partitioned-off area showed every sign of having been cleaned and straightened, and there was one of those gallon bottles of water with the keg tap in the side wasting precious beer space in the fridge. No colt, though. Pet finished his first beer, dropped his cigarette butt into the dregs and lobbed the bottle towards the bin. He snagged his second and headed for the shower.
Once again, no sign of Matthias except the marked absence of this morning's mess. No sign even of their earlier medical session. Pet dropped his grubby t-shirt on the floor and stepped into the shower rank. A practiced spin of the dials and blissfully cool water was washing the sweat off him, soothing some of the puffiness out of his tendons. He must have stood under the showers for at least fifteen minutes sipping at his beer in silence before he reached for the soap, lathering up and rinsing off as quickly as he could. Another long rinse and when the water started to run warm -- damn roof tanks -- he killed the showers and gave himself a shake, spraying water around the room.
He was toweling off his hair as he took a walk around the rest of the warehouse. Matthias' sudden silence was starting to bug him. Might as well admit he was looking for the colt -- just wanting to know what the fuck Matthias was up to. The kid had the smarts not to be in his sleeping quarters and there was no sign of him in any of the other spaces Pet regularly made use of. That left the garages, the yard, or the dumping ground out the back. The garages were closer and there was a scent of WD40 and oil in the air, but no Matthias.
Outside the sliding door the heat was brutal, although last night's rain was keeping the dust at bay. Pet squinted in the bright light, but he could hear hooves on concrete -- trotting hooves, for fuck's sake. Far too hot for that sort of exertion, in Pet's opinion. He used the towel to wipe away the first beads of sweat dampening his forehead and threw it back indoors.
He took the short route to the patch of shade in the angle of the buildings, although with the heat bouncing back and forth between the metal walls it wasn't a whole lot cooler. At least it didn't half-blind him. "Matthias?" he yelled -- no way was he running around in this heat after some addle-brained colt who didn't know when to stop. After a moment there was a clatter of hooves and the colt practically skidded around the corner, topless, and starting to burn a little across the shoulders. Fuck if he wasn't almost as wet as if he'd been standing in the rainstorm. Matthias pushed his forelock back out of his eyes and grinned at Pet.
"Man -- have you been through the stuff in the back lot? You should see some of the stuff I turned up!"
Something about the buoyant enthusiasm pissed Pet right off.
"What the fuck are you doing rolling around in a rubbish tip in midsummer?" he demanded. Matthias stopped his continuous motion and stood foursquare and still, crossing his arms over his chest. He kept his tone low and calm though. "You wanted me out of your way, I got myself out of your way. Thought maybe I could do something useful with my afternoon -- maybe clear enough that you'd have somewhere to run without having to go off your own spread seeing as you say there's bad attitude around here. I fixed the garage doors, by the way."
If it hadn't been for the flicking of his ears the kid might even have gotten away without revealing his temper. Pet swung his tail and decided to go with his first reaction. He laughed. "Kid -- do I look like I want to run? You want to give yourself heat-stroke hauling junk in midsummer, you go right ahead -- just take a fucking shower when you come in before you stink the place up -- but don't act all high and mighty like you're doing me a favor." Matthias opened his mouth to say something, but Pet just rode right on over him. "Now, I am going to go on back inside, have a couple more cold beers and call up something to eat. What you do is entirely up to you."
Pet swung ‘round and walked himself back indoors, letting Matthias have a good long view of his wide uncaring ass and angry swishing tail. He slid the door shut with a clatter and tried to stuff all the memories that were boiling over back down again. His hands found a shirt hooked over one of the doorframes. He put that on, not bothering with buttons, and patted at the pockets for cigarettes while his hooves carried him back to the kitchen. He bypassed the fridge, reaching for the whisky in the top cupboard instead. Want to run, for fuck's sake. Running was for kids, running was something you did when you were free and happy and you had Dios and half the herd alongside you. He jerked his shoulders and then bucked, almost enjoying the shock shooting down both back legs and the crash of it around the walls. The pull of it in his loins was familiar and if his left cannon bone made him hiss with pain as he lashed out in front as well -well, then good.
*** "I can hear you." He could hear the belligerent tone in his own voice, too. Matthias might not know it yet, but he knew he was way too drunk to try getting to his feet just because there was someone watching him. Damned if he was going to feel ashamed about that, too.
The soft hoof-falls came closer and Matthias’ body blocked the light from the bare bulb.
"That wasn't a fucking invitation."
"I thought you might need a refill." A familiar bottle appeared in front of him. Pet let is stay there until Matthias shrugged and set it down on one of the crates that edged the small room. "Those his things?" Pet scrubbed his hands over his face. Dios’ things. In some fantasy world, maybe. He leant over and closed the lid before the nosy colt could see what pathetic scraps he was mourning over. The movement made his head spin. Fuck.
"No." Just what he had to remember him by. The light brightened and the sounds resolved into the unmistakable sensation of another pair of haunches touching his, a solid warm body lying alongside. Pet refused to turn his head -- didn't want to see whatever the colt was thinking. Didn't want Matthias seeing him.
"Patrocles." Matthias’ voice trailed off. Pet's ears twitched. He ran his hand over the small, smooth wooden box again and tried very hard to ignore the burning presence of a hand, fingers stroking gently at the base of his back, just at the junction where coat became skin. "Tell me?"
"What's to tell? You were there." Gods, he hated the bitterness in his voice, the thickness.
"They didn't exactly rush to share the details with the kiddie table." "Now there's a surprise." The hand was still there. He wanted to leap to his feet and run. Couldn't raise the energy to care anymore. He closed his eyes. "It wasn't fucking time. It wasn't time -- wasn't even Fall -- and the bastard came out of nowhere -- got Dios -- got him still in the sheds -- no room to run, no room to fight." His voice was cracking, but he couldn't stop.
"Heard him scream, but I couldn't get there -- not soon enough. Soon enough to watch Taymore hammer down and break his spine. Soon enough to see him and smell his blood and be no earthly fucking good to him. Soon enough to get my ass kicked and to lie there wrapped up in wire and bleeding while 'Dnie did the only decent thing she could and finished him and I wasn't there." Pet dragged a clumsy fist across his face, tears leaving burning tracks that he wouldn't acknowledge. "I wasn't fucking there, and he died, and Taymore didn't, and I should have."
"But -- why?" "Because I was too useless to help him." Thanks. Needed to rub that in a few more times. "Don't be stupid -- I meant why did Taymore attack him in the first place. He wasn't challenging for the heard or anything, was he?"
Apparently shock trumps stupid pointless tears. Who knew.
"Because he's a psychopathic maniac?"
He could feel Matthias watching him. That still made his fucking
shoulder blades itch.
"Look, kid, Taymore gave the order and his little minions slid the shed doors shut and no one had the balls to ignore his order to leave me out there in the wire to rot. The fuck do I care about herd politics 101?"
Matthias stayed silent, his hand slowly massaging the tight muscles of Pet's back. Pet sighed. "I don't know. Dios didn't want the herd. I certainly didn't. Hell -- Dios only stuck around because I was a year younger and getting the papers for me to travel would have been a pain. He should have gone when he got his brands."
"I can see why he stayed though."
"The hell you do!" The thick bitter tone was back, choking him.
"Patrocles, don't forget I sort of knew you both -- saw you two together. Dios was glorious. You were glorious. The both of you together."
Pet's head was thumping, his eyes were burning and breathing was a battle.
"The fuck I was ever worth dying for."
Matthias' thin arms came around him, gentle and sure. Matthias' voice was so quiet it was hard to hear under the sound of blood thundering in his head.
"What you two had? Looked like it was worth taking the risk for."
*** The next morning was awkward. The hangover at least had the advantage of being familiar, but the little hopeful looks and the solid uncomfortable weight of expectation just drove Pet to the edge of crazy again. Coding with a blinding, thumping, lurching headache never worked out well anyway, so here he was, walking his property.
Truth be told Pet was grateful for the brutal heat. Held the fucking kid down to a semi-reasonable pace and had Matthias sweating and blowing some, which took the sting out of his own condition a little. Seemed he had some pride left in him after all. Fuck all to base it in.
He peered through his sunglasses at the pile of twisted metal the kid was leading him to.
"Kid -- the fuck is this?" "You tell me -- it's your junk pile. What it's going to be, though, is a sculpture."
"A sculpture." And of course the colt took that as an excuse to explain and elaborate and trot round in circles measuring stuff out like somehow Pet was going to start giving a shit. Still, if a little expenditure on tools would keep the boy out of his hair for a while and let him get back inside for a shower and a beer... "So what you're saying," Pet interrupted when he'd had about all he could take. "Is you want me to hire you a blow torch? You going to want me to pay the vets bills when you blow yourself up, too?"
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