Sibirskaia: No More Lies Part 1
No More Lies No Turning Back
(October 6th)
The last forty-eight hours had been...eventful to say the least.
The months ahead would prove taxing. Chaotic. Infuriating. And at times, even laughable and absurd. But it had all begun here. In the past two days, William had lost his job, and Aaron had gone from being his lover -- his boyfriend -- to something more. And soon enough, they would be living together. Robyn, meanwhile, had discovered the truth about her son...and about her husband. And they'd fought before a crowd of onlookers, where their marriage began its all-to-inevitable collapse.
In time -- though they were the catalyst of it all -- these events would stand pale before those to follow. A divorce. A funeral. A custody battle. Police interrogations. Candid photographs. And new threats to their happiness and stability looming behind every corner. But today? This Sunday? Despite the chaos of the last two days...
Aaron Jones was content.
Three weeks ago, he'd reconnected with a long lost friend, and, in that old friend, found something far more precious. He'd found love. He'd found his reason to settle down, and call someplace his home. In days, they would be living together. And no matter the stresses facing those around him, HIS life was better than it had ever been. And this quiet afternoon, he sat in the arms of William Masters, lost in some pointless old movie...
...until his husky unexpectedly muted the set. "Aaron?" Will spoke before the rabbit could ask why he'd shut off the sound. "When you were in high school, did you ever fool around with any older guys?"
THAT was not a question he'd expected, and -- on reflex -- he tensed and averted his eyes, "I...uhm..."
William laughed and held him closer, "Calm down. You know I'm not the jealous type. This isn't a trap." He shrugged as he let the rabbit go, "And besides, I know about most of the stuff you did back in high school, already. Some with my own brother, even. So no matter the answer...I really don't think it's gonna' upset me."
And Aaron could only hope his boyfriend was telling the truth. "Okay, then. I did," he admitted. "But why do you wanna' know?"
"How old were they, exactly?" the husky asked, ignoring his lover's question completely.
"I didn't really bother checking IDs," Aaron chuckled, "but I'm gonna' guess the oldest was about...forty?" And he repeated: "But why?"
But again, Will ignored him. "Anyone I know?"
"There was one teacher in the mix, so probably. Yeah," the rabbit could hear his voice falling flatter with every answer, as he grew quickly annoyed with his husky's disregard. "Why?"
"Do you hold any negative feelings toward them? Like... do you see them as bad people or-"
"Will!" he finally snapped. "Why?"
And as he watched, William closed his eyes and drew in a silent breath, steeling himself to say whatever it was that was on his mind. But...whatever? No. Aaron wasn't so naïve. The husky was scared. He was stalling. And with the subject at paw -- the subject he, himself, had broached -- it wasn't difficult to guess why.
"Okay, look," finally, the dog spoke. "This is just really scary for me, okay? I mean: if even just ONE person who shouldn't know about this were to find out, I could be in so much fucking trouble! And I just..." He took another breath and looked his rabbit in the eye, "But if you and I are moving on to this next level -- if we're gonna' move in together and be a REAL and committed couple -- I can't build that on lies."
"It's okay, Will. You can tell me anything." But it wouldn't be 'anything'. It would be one very specific thing. Aaron had a good idea what to expect; and he expected to hear Elliot's name. "It'll stay between us."
One more breath, and the husky finally began: "Three weeks ago...just before I met the fabulous Patrick Roark," he paused to smile at his silly little joke, "Toffy and Robyn asked me to babysit Elliot..."
~
(November 9th)
It was a month, though, before that 'startling' confession meant a thing.
Aaron had made his jokes, of course, especially in front of other people. After all, it was just so fun to watch his husky squirm. But really? He couldn't be bothered to care. Elliot clearly didn't mind. He and his uncle were closer than any that the rabbit had ever seen. So what harm was done? And their little affair had ended before Will and Aaron actually became a couple -- not long before, but before, nonetheless -- so he had never been unfaithful.
And so, in the end, it didn't really matter. It never had, and he was certain it never would.
That was, at least, until tonight.
Until he and Will came home from their date, to be met with Kristoff's newest revelation. Until Robyn began accusing William of...well, of exactly what he had done. Until she began claiming to have proof. Until there was real and present danger of 'someone who shouldn't know' actually finding out. And until the far flung threat of legal repercussions became an all-too-real possibility.
"Okay," Aaron rumble breathlessly as he closed their bedroom door behind him, "Do you have any idea what kind of proof he could be talking about?"
Will, though, just shook his head as he sat on the edge of his mattress, "I don't. I really don't."
The rabbit furrowed his brow in thought, before suggesting: "You told me about the photo booth. Did you two...take any pictures while you were in there?"
"Oh God no!" William yelped. "Those things get spit out from the side of the booth! What if someone outside had seen them?"
"Any other pictures?"
"Not unless the boy was taking them in my sleep." The dog laughed, "And that's the last thing I need, too. I mean, I can see it now: me sitting on a witness stand while a jury compares Elliot's pictures of my dick, to the pictures the cops took..." He paused with a hum, "Might be fun letting the cops get me hard for the picture, but-"
"Focus!" Aaron snapped.
"Sorry," his boyfriend flattened his ears. "Jokes are a defense mechanism."
"And you can't think of anything else? Text messages you two sent? Emails?" The rabbit winced as he considered the worst case scenario: "You didn't leave behind any...uhm..."
"Cum?" Will finished the thought for him. "No. And even if I had, it would have long since been washed out of his sheets or clothes before she had any reason to go looking for it."
"Well does anyone else know anything about this? Anyone who could've made a statement?"
"Just me, you, Elliot, and Hunter, as far as I know. And I know you and Elliot wouldn't say anything. And even if Hunter..." The husky stopped and shook his head, "But, I mean: that wouldn't be proof of anything, anyway! Just his word against mine and Elliot's."
Defeated, Aaron slumped back against the door, "Any other ideas?"
"None that would make any sense!" his boyfriend threw his paws up in exasperation. "The only thing left I can think of is like...that she SAW something happen between us? But she wouldn't have waited until now to say something, if she had. And she damn sure wouldn't have pointed at Toffy, first, either."
The problem was, though, that it didn't matter what kind of proof she had. All that mattered was that, somewhere, it existed. "Will...you know that if she really has evidence of him doing something with an older husky..."
"...then I'm that husky," he conceded. "I know."
"So, what are you gonna' do?"
"Lie! Deny it. Fight it to the bitter end until they have DNA evidence, or a picture or video of us doing something together, that has my fucking face in it!" William pointed emphatically, "I am not admitting to anything!"
And Aaron opened his muzzle to reply: to ask what good that would do when he didn't even know what evidence he was trying to dispute. To suggest that he should at least CONSIDER a more tactical approach than simple denial. Or a longer discussion, here and now, if nothing else...
...but before the first syllable left his lips, his husky continued: "Well...not to the police, anyway."
"Wait. What?" the rabbit stalled and blinked...
...as Will raised his head, to look his lover in the eyes, "Aaron...I have to tell Toffy."
Reflexively, Aaron screamed, "YOU'RE GO-" before catching himself mid sentence, so he could lower his voice. The last thing Kristoff needed to hear, a room away, were the next words coming out of his mouth: "You're gonna' tell your brother that you fucked his son!?"
"I didn't fuck him. We just sucked each oth-"
"That's not the point!"
"I know, it's not," the husky agreed. "The point is...that I can't send Toffy into this blind. He may not be happy with me for it -- case in point: I know he won't be -- but if I get pinched for this, he'll lose Elliot just as surely as if HE were the one on the hook for it."
And as much as he wished he could deny it, Aaron knew he was right: "Because he endangered Elliot, by letting you two be alone together...live together..."
"And she will damn sure spin it, so it sounds like he knew about everything, too." William slumped and sighed, "He needs to know the truth. He needs to know what we're really getting ourselves into, here...so he, Elliot, and I can fight this together." He put his head in his paws, "The last thing he needs is to be blindsided."
"Well, that is: other than how YOU'RE about to blindside him," the rabbit chuckled, despite himself...
...and Will looked up to do the same, "Other than."
Aaron wasn't sure that his lover was right...but he couldn't come up with one good reason why he was wrong. And more importantly: nothing he could say would change the dog's mind, either way.
So the best he could hope was that the confession might go as well, with Kris, as it had with him, "So, how do you expect him to react?"
"Well...we have a first-aid kit, right?"
~
Silent moments.
Sometimes, a simple moment of silence -- a gesture, a glance -- can say more than an entire conversation. It can display more truth and more complexity than any number of words, no matter the tongue or the hand to craft them. A moment of pure, unfiltered emotion, without the limits and inadequacies of language to dull it -- to warp it -- or the lies to hide it.
And tonight -- for Hunter Thurman -- that moment was a simple smile.
In the back seat, Elliot and Mic laughed and talked, while Hunter watched quietly from the front. It was a happy scene. Loud. Joyous. Shameless. And to a normal pair of eyes, it would have been just that. But Hunter's were not normal eyes.
He was Elliot's boyfriend. And he had reason to be nervous. It had only been days since he'd broken the husky's heart, and not even hours since their experimental cure had begun: the threesome to launch their open relationship. And, as such: he had a definite call for concern...and reason to fear that it could all fall apart at any moment.
And he was not immune to the thoughts that come with such anxiety. To the worry that it all might be an act: that his lover wasn't really happy at all...but was simply putting on a show for company. And neither was he immune to jealousy: to the creeping fear that Elliot was only happy because he was with Mic. Happier with Mic, even, than he was with Hunter...
But in a moment of silence, their eyes met.
Elliot turned away from Mic, and caught his tiger's gaze. And he smiled. And in that moment, Hunter knew. Elliot loved him. He was happy. And everything was okay.
Of course, another thought dawned on him in the wake of that moment, as well. The realization that all throughout this day, Elliot had been his only concern. He had worried if Elliot could handle the threesome. He had worried if his husky could really forgive him. He had worried if the dog would leave him -- be it for Mic, or just in general.
But he hadn't once worried about himself. If he could handle the threesome. If he really wanted the open relationship. If HE were really okay.
But he was.
Soon, the car pulled to a stop: Stanley's car, at Mic's house. The threesome had come and gone, Saturday's sun had faded away, and Stan -- with no interest in hosting a house full of teenagers after a day's work -- was busy ferrying Hunter's guests home. And Mic was the first stop.
Before the hyena could do more than simply open his door though...
"Hey!" Elliot stopped him, "is it okay if I come inside? I...kinda' need to pee."
"I don't see why not." The hyena turned to survey his home, "Doesn't look like my folks're here, right now, anyway."
"Awesome!"
Hunter, meanwhile, simply smiled and followed his friends, each one out their doors and up the walk, with Elliot in the lead. Mic didn't notice -- or at least he didn't seem to, from where Hunter was standing -- how energetic the husky had become. How Elliot bounced on the balls of his feet. How he sprang from step to step. Of course, maybe he just really had to go...
...but Hunter was pretty sure it was something else.
And, at the door, Mic unlocked and pushed it open, only to have Elliot dash right on by.
"Thanks!"
"It's-" Hunter called after him, hoping to tell him where the bathroom was, here in a house he'd never visited before. But by the time the tiger had stepped through the door, his husky was already gone, "Uhf...oh well."
"He'll find it; don't worry" Mic chuckled. And as he closed the door behind him, he turned to his friend with a wistful little grin, "So...is it just me, or were we both very wrong?"
"Hmm?" Hunter cocked his head...
...and the hyena explained: "Elliot. He seems..."
"Happy?" Hunter finished the thought.
"Unless you can see somethin' I can't."
"No. He is," the cat nodded and looked off to where Elliot had disappeared. "I really expected this to blow up in our faces, y'know? But it actually went well." He tapped his chest, "I enjoyed myself...YOU enjoyed yourself..."
"Yeah, I did!" Mic laughed.
"But most importantly, HE enjoyed himself." Hunter turned back to look at his friend, "We're still together, he gets to enjoy his little exploration phase, and we're gonna' have all this fun along the way? I mean: I've gotta' paw it to him. This was a good idea." He shrugged as he amended: "A good night."
"And you're not worried?" the hyena asked. "Not scared that he might leave you for one of his new...playmates?"
"I'm really not."
Mic nodded in the silence that followed, and Hunter watched his eyes shift about...watched him glance all around the room: at everything but the tiger's face, "So...do you guys have any rules set up? Like...about who's fair game, or...how and when, or-"
And he cut the hyena off: "You're wanting to invite him over here sometime, aren't you?"
Mic could only cough and sputter, of course. Clearly, still too nervous to make such a suggestion...
...so Hunter kindly alleviated his fears: "Go for it!"
And he watched as his friend's shoulders dropped in sudden relief, "Fuck, Hunter. I'd be happy just doin' again...what we did earlier tonight. You know: if we still can."
"Oh, I'm sure we can," the tiger nodded. "I mean: know I want to!"
"Hey now!" from behind the cat, Elliot's voice reentered the fray. "Don't go answering questions for the both of us." And as they turned to great him, they found his arms crossed in mock defiance, "What if I don't want another threesome?"
"You mean you don't?" Mic frowned...
...and the husky explained: "Well, it was fun. But I can't spend ALL of my time with the two of you! I have other people I need to play with, too, remember?" He uncrossed his arms and stepped closer, a paw lighting on his tiger's shoulder, "Like Donald!"
Hunter, though, just shrugged, knocking that paw back, as he pulled away, "Oh? Fine with me! All the more hyena dick I get to myself, then!" And to punctuate himself, he grabbed a fist full of Mic's groin.
He could feel his friend tense in his grasp. Could hear his breath stop. But before Mic could react in any more vocal or animated of a fashion...
"Pfft!" Elliot drew close, as well, "you can have it! I already had my fill of that, tonight. Of course, that's not to say I wouldn't mind getting introduced to, uh..." and he snaked his own paw around and behind their friend, grabbing his ass tight enough to bring him up onto his toes, "...other parts."
With an audible whimper, but no active attempts to remove their paws, Mic murmured: "You two need to go."
"Awww..." Elliot, though, simply crowded him more, "but we were just starting to have fun."
"Oh, come on, Ell." Luckily -- or perhaps unluckily -- for Mic, Hunter knew that they didn't have time for a repeat performance. Not with Stan waiting. And so he let go of his friend's already swelling bulge, and tugged his husky away, as well. "Let's leave Michael and his paw to their alone time..."
To which Elliot could only give a resigned huff, "...fine."
"See you later, Mic!" Hunter winked and flashed an impish grin as he opened the door, and pulled his lover along with him...
...but Mic only offered the briefest response, "Yeah. Uh-huh," before closing the door behind them.
With Elliot's paw wrapped in his own, Hunter stifled a laugh, as the two padded away from the door and down the walk. And for that short distance -- those few yards -- it felt like it had in the beginning, all over again. The stolen glances. The silly smiles he couldn't restrain.
And he squeezed his lover's paw, "Tonight went so much better than I expected."
But Elliot laughed in response, "Oh, the threesome was the easy part. Hardest part's still to come!" He leaned his head on the cat's shoulder, "You still have to deal with my dad..."
~
He'd never forgotten.
How could he? He'd watched his dick slip in between his own nephew's lips. He'd done it in a photo booth, and in his brother's -- his nephew's father's -- bed! That wasn't the sort of thing someone could just forget. And, in fact...truth be told: he cherished the memory.
He called it to mind when he was alone, with his thoughts and his paw. He shamelessly let it float to the surface nearly every time he saw Elliot's face. He smiled when his lover -- his dusty little rabbit -- Aaron, made his offhand jokes. And he would have liked it if Aaron hadn't cared, at all...but he LOVED the perverse and giddy joy that his bunny took in it. He had never regretted it, and he had never really let it slip from his thoughts.
But, until today...
...though he'd never forgotten it, he had kept it locked away. He'd compartmentalized his life. It was something that happened, but it was almost like it had happened to someone else. It was an event completely unto itself, which had no effects and no ramifications, positive or otherwise, on his life or the lives of those around him.
He had no choice. He couldn't lose himself in fear and worry. He couldn't let himself consider his brother's reaction. He couldn't stop to imagine the horrors of prison, and the stigma that would follow. He had a life to live...a rabbit to love...a brother to house...and a nephew to guide. It was the healthiest choice, really. Push it away. Pretend it didn't happen. Enjoy it for what it was...like replaying a movie behind closed eyes. But never, ever let it be real. Never let it matter.
Until today.
And so, here he was, standing in his living room. The televisions was on, but he wasn't watching it. His gaze lay, instead, on the back of his brother's head...but even that wasn't what he saw. No, he saw flashing lights: red and blue. He saw the hate in Toffy's eyes. He saw a court room. He saw Elliot trapped in his mother's web. And he saw iron bars...
But he had no choice. It happened. It was real. It mattered.
And it was time.
"Hey, Toffy?" when he spoke, his throat felt like sandpaper and glass...
...and when his brother turned to look at him, "Yeah?" he nearly lost his resolve, on the spot.
He wanted to shrink away and run. He couldn't do this! He couldn't bear the scorn and the hate. Couldn't lose his brother, and his nephew. Or see Aaron through prison glass. He couldn't let his life crumble around him. Couldn't be alone and hated. Or face the nightmare ahead.
He couldn't let it be real.
But somehow...he did. "Could you, uhm...could you turn off the TV for a minute?" And inside, he laughed. A minute? Just a minute? This was going to take a lot longer than a minute.
"Yeah, sure," Toffy paused the built in DVR...
...and William lost himself in that simple little event, hiding away in the minutia to ignore the train bearing down. Because, what a marvel DVR was. It let them pause live TV! But it was a simple enough set up, right? All it did was constantly -- albeit temporarily -- record the channel they were on. But how much of that temporary recording could it hold, if they never actually pressed that little red recording button on the remote? An hour? Would this conversation be over in an hour? What if it wasn't? He couldn't let his brother miss his show! So, maybe he should come back later.
But Toffy's voice dragged him back to reality. "What's up?"
And he sighed. This was happening. He had no choice.
"We need to talk."
~
It had been dusk when they'd left Hunter's new home...but the twilight still lingered, even by the time they'd stopped at Mic's. Now, though, as Stanley -- their dusty furred driver -- switched off his ignition, here in the parking lot Elliot's apartment complex, darkness had finally fallen.
Every hint of the sun's light had slipped away. Even the moon was nowhere to be seen. Elliot didn't exactly pay attention to the cycle of the moon, of course. He wasn't a wolf, after all. So for all he knew it was a new moon, tonight. But perhaps it just hadn't risen, yet...or -- if it had -- was hidden behind the clouds.
Either way, though, the only light here in the parking lot was artificial: Stanley's headlights and -- when they were shut off -- the street lamps lining the sidewalks.
But in the darkness, as the young husky stepped out of Stan's car, what little light there was caught white and tan fur. Caught the dusty fur of a rabbit, and the stark white half of a husky: Aaron and Will...the dog seated on the bottom step of a flight of stairs, and his rabbit standing alongside.
Neither one said a word. Neither one moved to greet them. And only Aaron bothered to even look their way, as Elliot, his tiger, and their chaperone drew close...
...and from that alone, there was no question in Elliot's mind that something was wrong.
"Hey," he offered a timid little smile that he wondered if they could even see. "What's going on?"
And from behind him, Stanley added: "Is everything okay?" Apparently, Elliot wasn't the only one who could tell something was up.
"It's been worse," Aaron answered as he stepped away from the stairs to approach his brother. "Why don't we go sit in your car and talk?" he asked, as a paw lit on the elder rabbit's shoulder.
Stan, though, motioned up the stairs, toward the apartment, with a hint of disappointment in his voice, "I kinda' wanted to go inside and get a drink."
"Trust me:" his little brother ushered him backward with a half-hearted little chuckle, "you'll need one a lot worse, in a minute."
Elliot watched them leave, in confusion and concern. What could possibly be going on, that Aaron would need to talk to Stanley about it, alone? And he turned back, to look at Will, to search the seated husky for any clue as to what had happened...
...but what he saw, instead, was the bottle of rum in his uncle's paw.
"Will?" he stepped closer...
...but the elder dog just further averted his gaze, his face hidden in shadow, "Kris needs to talk to you upstairs." He turned the bottle up, choking down a long gulp of the clear liquor. And as he winced at the burn, it occurred to his nephew:
Kris? He called him Kris, and not Toffy? This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.
But before he could speak, William went on: "Both of you. He needs both of you."
Elliot wanted to investigate. He wanted to know what he was walking into, upstairs. He wanted to know if Will was okay, if his dad was okay, and even if HE would be okay. He wanted answers and reassurances.
But his uncle's head fell, eyes on the concrete under his paws. And Elliot thought better of it. He would leave him be. Leave him to his thoughts and his drinking, and find his answers, instead, upstairs with his father.
And so, he passed on by, with Hunter mere footsteps to his back. But in the shadows behind him...there was an answer. Or at least a clue. A hint. One he would see for himself, before the night was out. And one he would have seen, already, had it been exposed by the light of day. But one that was hidden in the moonless night.
Blood. A darkening streak of red...painted across stark white fur.
But, oblivious, on up the stairs and through door he went. And inside, Elliot found his father rising from the couch.
His eyes locked on his son -- wide and unblinking -- but only for a moment, before they darted away. Elliot stepped in. Hunter closed the door behind them. Kris's metered footsteps drew him slowly from the couch. And the room lay silent, but for the sounds of footfall and breath...
Kris glanced, time and again, at his son, but Elliot's eyes never left his father. He scanned his face, his movements, and his every mannerism and gesture: from his heavy gait, to the phone in his paw...to those repeated, fleeting glances. Elliot's eyes never moved, but Kristoff's never lingered...
And Elliot's heart stuck in his throat. His own father couldn't bear to look at him...
It was Hunter who spoke first. He stepped forward, bold and sure...but Elliot knew, before the cat even opened his muzzle, that this had nothing to do with Hunter.
"Mr. Masters, I just wanted to say, that-"
"Hunter," Kris stopped him, shooting him a gaze far steadier than any he had afforded his son...
...and the tiger stood at attention, "Sir?"
"You and me?" Kristoff's voice came firm, but muted. "Someday, we're gonna' have a conversation. About a father protecting his son. About what happens when you make my boy cry. About what you're gonna' have to do to earn back MY trust, no matter how Elliot feels. But today," he pointed at the cat, in a sudden burst of volume and heat, "is NOT that day! And I'd advise you keep that apology to yourself, until I'm in the mood to hear it."
"Yes sir," Hunter nodded in submission...
...but Elliot felt compelled to defend him, "Dad, you don't have to-"
"And you," his father snapped, turning his gaze sharply on his pup...but the instant their eyes met, his expression changed.
And Elliot was set reeling. Not by the timbre, but by the look that followed it. He couldn't place it. Couldn't explain it. Was it an expression of surprise? Of shock? No. No, it was guilt! As if he'd regretted his tone the second it escaped his lips. But why? What had happened while Elliot was gone? Why was his father so angry? So on edge. And...it wasn't like he'd never yelled at his son before. So, why the sudden remorse?
The elder husky, though, began again, his voice falling softer, gentler: "You and your boyfriend need to sit down," as he motioned with his empty paw to the couch. "We have some things to discuss."
"Is everything-"
"Just," Kris snapped and cut him short again, but immediately stopped to draw in a long, soothing breath. "Just...sit down. Please?"
This wasn't Elliot's fault. That was the answer. Whatever had happened, it was more than his father could handle. He was barely holding it together. He was on the verge of exploding, in fact. But it wasn't his son's fault, and he knew it. And that's why. That's why he'd snapped...and why he'd regretted it immediately.
But what was it? What had happened? What had Elliot missed? And why couldn't his father look him in the eye?
Quietly, the boy did as he was told. Hunter in tow, he took his seat upon the couch and waited...choking down the lump in his throat, and tremoring beyond control...
...as his father finally looked him in the eye, "William told me everything."
No.
"Everything?" Elliot froze. "E-everything about what?"
"You know what," Kris answered. "From what I hear: both of you do. In fact, from what I hear: I'm the only one who DIDN'T know."
No! No, no, no.
This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening! It had to be something else. Anything else! What other secret could William have been hiding? What else could he have possibly confessed to? What else could his dad know about? It wasn't that. It couldn't have been that. Anything but that!
There was no way Will would have...
No way.
No.
His tremors returned as he spoke, "Dad, I-"
"Stop. Please, Elliot...just stop." And now Kristoff was tremoring as well. A quake to match his son's. But he calmed it, he pushed it aside, and he offered his boy a smile. Or as close to one as he could force, "It's okay. You're not in trouble. No matter what happened, you didn't do anything wrong." Elliot looked away, but his father's voice rose to re-ensnare his attention: "Elliot! I need to know you're hearing me. No matter what. You did NOTHING wrong. Okay?"
He'd never seen his father so scared. So nervous. So angry. Never seen him struggle so hard to maintain his composure. But he was smiling. In spite of it all, he was smiling! That was a good sign, right? If he really was saying what Elliot thought he was saying...
...at least he was still smiling.
So the boy nodded. He couldn't bring himself to speak. Couldn't bring himself to look at Hunter, for fear of what the cat's face must look like in this moment. Couldn't rise. Couldn't run. Couldn't bear to believe this was really happening.
But he'd heard his father. And he could nod.
And, so Kristoff continued: "I don't need you to confirm it...but please don't deny it." He looked his son right in the eye, with a calm and reassuring certainty. And with love. Through it all: love. "I already know. I know what happened. I know when. I know where. And I think I even know how many times. But what I don't know..." he paused to hold up the phone, "...is whether or not I'm gonna' call the police."
"The police!?" Elliot yelped and shot from his seat.
It was a reflex. It was a reaction of fear and surprise. And it was over before it had begun. He wasn't even off the couch before he was planted again. Two firm, orange paws held him fast...one at the hip, and one on the shoulder.
Hunter held him down.
His breaths were uneven. His muscles were so tense they'd grown sore. For an instant, he was nearly blind. And managing even the simplest of words was a feat beyond hope...
...as his father went on, laying to rest any doubts. "Will told me about the weekend he babysat you. He told me what happened on the couch, and on the bed, and in the photo booth. And he told me what happened the following weekend, when I left you two alone. And..." his voice had risen steadily with every word, louder and angrier by the moment. And finally he paused, pushing back his temper with a growl, "And now he's got a bloody lip to show for it."
Elliot was light headed. And he could only mutter in response, "You hit him...?"
"Woulda' done a lot worse if Aaron hadn't of stopped me," Kristoff admitted. "And now, I need you to answer a question for me, Ell. And I want you to know: no matter how you answer it, you will not be in trouble. I will love you. I will protect you. WE will be okay. And I will be RIGHT by your side through whatever comes next." That love. That genuine smile. Elliot watched them grow and spread across the elder canine's face. "Just one question. If the answer is yes, I will put this phone down, and me, you..." he paused and winced, "...AND William will face this like a family. But if the answer is no, I start dialing."
"One question..." the boy repeated, taking and squeezing his lover's paw so hard, that he was sure it hurt. Yet, still, he didn't look to see. "Okay."
"Was it consensual?"
"Yes."
The phone tapped against the coffee table -- a hollow treble of plastic -- and Elliot's eyes dropped to the carpet. He watched the fabrics take shape. He watched the carpet become a magical dreamscape that was not his life. He drifted away to a world where he'd never had to admit such a horrifying truth to his own father. Where that simple 'yes' had never come...nor any of the realities and nightmares that could bring it to bear...or follow it. He left the world behind, even the arms of the tiger holding him, and keeping him from collapsing, into a heap. He was numb. And he was happier for it.
His father, though, had no such luxury.
Kristoff couldn't simply escape reality. He couldn't pretend his lawyers hadn't called, or that Robyn's newest accusation hadn't come. He couldn't pretend that William had never confessed, or that Elliot hadn't claimed consent. And most of all: he couldn't pretend that THIS had never happened.
His brother may have been able to compartmentalize. His son may have been able to escape into fantasy and denial. But Kristoff? He had no choice but to face the reality around him. The reality of his wife's threats, of his brother's bloody lip, of his own startling obliviousness...
...and the reality that his own son -- the boy sitting in front of him -- had been having sex with his brother.
But how could he reconcile this? How could he assimilate it into his life, into his very concept of reality? He was talking about his own brother, here! His own brother betraying his trust. And his son! His son was party to it? He was willing? He wanted it...?
And, on top of it all, Kristoff could even picture it...in every graphic detail. After all, it wasn't that difficult. He'd seen all the parts, right? He'd seen his brother's dick more times than he cared to admit. And he could see his son's muzzle, right now, only two feet away. So, whether he wanted it or not, the image was there: one slipping into the other...again...and again...
Damn-it! Why SHOULDN'T he call the cops!? This was wrong! It was all wrong! His son was too young to consent! Let alone to his own uncle's sick advances! But...but no. He'd promised Elliot he wouldn't call. He promised.
And none of it made sense, anyway. If he was old enough to do it with Hunter, then he was old enough to do it, period, right? Old enough to consent, and to know exactly what he did and didn't want. Just like William and Aaron were back in high school. Or for that matter, Kristoff himself. And sure, it was a different matter doing it with his uncle...but could Kris really fault the incest? Especially after everything he and Will had done?
And so recently, even...
But no! No! There was the AGE difference if nothing else. An adult taking advantage of a naïve child. And the lies! And the breach of trust! And even if all of that could be forgiven -- even if Elliot really was willing and unharmed -- was he really considering, even for a SECOND, being okay with this? Okay with his brother fucking his son!? And...
And why didn't that question have an easier answer? The answer was no, right? Just no! Wasn't it that simple? Why couldn't it be that simple...?
And what if he WAS okay with it? Wouldn't that be tantamount to giving them the green light? To telling them that they could keep right on doing it, when and however they pleased? But...but, then again, would it really matter, now, if they DID? They already had! How would it change anything, now?
But, if so, where would he draw the line?? How much is too much? Who DOESN'T get a pass? What if Aaron wanted to join them in a threesome? What if Stan was interested? Or those two teachers: the fox and the raccoon? Or...
...or himself?
His stomach turned and he exhaled. It was too much. It was all too much. He was talking about his baby, here! His son! It was one thing, when he was just a curious boy going through puberty. Or a teenager in love with his tiger. But now, even if it WAS only in Kristoff's head -- the never ending succession of adults defiling his boy -- where did it end!?
But...
But he was just making this harder on himself. He was driving himself mad and he needed to calm down. He was going to fucking explode if he didn't! Or vomit, or collapse, or cry -- if not all three. And he couldn't let himself fall apart like that. He had to remember that this was about his son! No matter what...this was about Elliot.
And he'd promised him he wouldn't be mad. He'd promised him they'd be okay. And he couldn't forget what kind of hell this must be for his son, either! The poor boy had just been forced to admit something like this to his own father. He'd been exposed and laid bare. And the last thing he needed was to be punished for it...even unintentionally, to be given any reason to regret his honesty.
The last thing he needed was to face this alone.
And so, he shook his head and slid back into the moment -- into the here and now -- and found his son's face staring up at him. He was terrified. Tears had collected in the corners of his wide, shivering eyes. And he looked just as sick at his stomach as his father...
Kristoff was right. His son needed him.
"Ell?" he stepped closer. "Come here."
Elliot stood, and Kris pulled him tight into a hug. He drew the boy's head onto his shoulder, and in that moment, everything fell away. He was a father again, holding and protecting his son. Nothing more. Everything finally made sense. All the confusion fell away. The divorce. The sex. His brother bleeding downstairs. And it was just him and his boy.
Nothing else mattered.
"I love you," he assured his son. "You didn't do anything wrong. And everything's gonna' be okay." He didn't worry if he should be saying this in a whisper. Didn't worry if it was embarrassing Elliot, to hug his father like this in front of Hunter. Such trivial little worries were the least of his concerns...and he could only assume they would be for his son, as well. "You don't have to keep these secrets from me anymore. It's okay. It's okay..."
Gently, Kristoff stroked the back of Elliot's head in time with his words...
...and the young husky fell limp in his arms.
"I'm here," he promised. "I will always be here."
It felt right. Kris felt like this was exactly where he belonged. No. Where they both belonged. This small, limp frame held here in his father's strong arms. This head on his shoulder. This head fur between his fingers. And his son's breath. The sigh in his ear, the draft across his neck, and the rise and fall of that small chest. He felt loved. He felt needed. He felt strong and important. He felt like he might never to let go. He felt...
Kristoff shook his head.
He broke the hug and backed away, a quick smile at his son before turning to the tiger on the couch. "Hunter? Can you go downstairs and let everyone know it's okay to come up?"
The cat nodded and rose, silently padding for the door. But before he'd even turned the knob...
...Elliot finally managed to speak, "Dad, I...I'm so sorry."
But his father simply shook his head, "Elliot, I already told you: You don't have anything to apologize for. You didn't do anything wrong."
"But I did!" Elliot yelped. "I caused all of this. This is my fault!"
"Don't talk like that." Kris took his son by the shoulders and looked him in the eye: "That's not true, and you know it."
"Yes it is," the younger husky argued, pressing on quickly to keep father from interrupting: "You just punched Will in the face, Dad! And it's my fault. I mean: I'm the one who came on to HIM! I made him do it. He tried to stop me, and I wouldn't let him. And-"
"Elliot! Stop it," Kristoff halted him again...nearly having to shout to get his attention in the midst of his tirade. "William is an adult. He could have stopped you if he really wanted to."
"William? William!?" Elliot backed away, shaking his head. "You're not even calling him Billy anymore! A-and," he flung a paw, to point at the door, "he didn't call you Toffy when I was downstairs, either! You two are fighting, now, and I...I just..."
"And you're not to blame," the elder canine gently reassured. "You're just a kid, Ell."
But he could only watch on, in vain, as it fell on deaf ears...
"No! That's just it: I'm not. At least...not in this situation." Elliot, with a confidence and certainty on his face like Kris had never seen, looked him square in the eye, "I knew what I was doing. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was dangerous for him. And I didn't care! I was being horny and stupid, and now everything is fucked up because of it. And I..." he tensed up and shook his head, barely keeping his calm. "I just don't want you to be mad at Will for something I did, Dad."
"Elliot. Listen to me," Kristoff stepped forward, closing the gap his son had made, and took him by the shoulders yet again. "O-okay, maybe you're right. I'm sorry; you're not a kid anymore. And maybe everything you said, just now, was true. You were..." he found it more difficult than he expected to repeat, "...horny and stupid. Fine. So, you made a mistake! But that doesn't make all of this your fault."
"Doesn't it?"
"No!" he answered with a genuine, though difficult, smile. "Because, fine: maybe it's not entirely HIS fault either. Because you were an...active participant. But so was he! At the very least, Will..." he paused to correct himself, for his son's sake, "...Billy still has to share SOME of the blame."
"But not all of it," the younger dog amended.
"No. Not all of it." This was a struggle that Kris had long expected. He knew, eventually, it would come. It was inevitable. One day he would have to come to terms with the fact that his son was becoming an adult. But he had no idea it would be under circumstances such as these. "But whether you're a kid or not, he's still older than you. And he should've known better."
But no sooner had he become an adult in his father's eyes...than he was Kristoff's child yet, again.
Still in his grasp, Elliot trembled -- quaked -- as tears began to trickle down his cheeks. "I just don't want you to hate each other," he hiccupped and sobbed, tremors turning to convulsions, as he let himself go...
...and again, the elder husky pulled his son into his arms, "Okay." If that was all Elliot wanted -- just for his father and uncle's relationship to be okay -- then he wouldn't deny him that. He wouldn't just sit back and watch his son cry. "Okay. I promise..."
The quivering body in his arms...it was his boy. It was the child he'd watched his wife give birth to fourteen years ago. The child he'd bathed, fed, and clothed. The child whose scrapes he'd bandaged, and who he'd tucked in, at night. But the boy in his arms was also an adult. In one sense, if nothing else...
Elliot was his to protect. To hold and comfort. To love. But he was something more than that, now. And -- in this private moment, most of all -- the images and realities floating through Kristoff's head? The truths he'd so hoped he needn't yet accept...?
They left him feeling lost. Feeling confused. Feeling no less nauseated than proud. Confident, angry, and unsure. He felt needed. He felt it was time he let go. He felt as frightened as he was content. And he felt...
He quickly pushed away from the hug, yet again. But there was no time afforded him to analyze or to reel, before...
"Wait," Elliot blinked, as a thought seemed to flash before him. "I don't understand."
And Kristoff shook away his own thoughts to ask: "Don't understand what?"
"Why did Will tell you?"
But it was a third voice who answered: "Because of your mother."
The two huskies turned toward the voice, to find a third stepping through the door. William: slumped shoulders, drooping eyes, red stained lip, and an ever diminishing bottle of rum in his paw. Behind him came Hunter, Aaron, and Stan...the last of whom bore the distant gaze of lingering shock. Of denial and disbelief.
"Where's your alcohol?" the elder rabbit asked...
...before his brother ushered him toward the kitchen, "This way."
"My mom?" Elliot asked, at last, his eyes darting back and forth between his father and uncle.
And Kristoff sighed. "Yeah...sorry. I hadn't gotten to that part, yet." He took a breath and somberly explained: "The uhm...the lawyers called, today. Your mother's arguing that it's not safe for you to live with a gay couple: with Aaron and your uncle. And, well...she's turning that accusation she made against me -- that I'd molested you -- against Will, now."
"So?" Elliot just shrugged it off. "Why would that be any different than before?"
"Because she says she has evidence, hun. Proof that someone did something to you." Kris crossed his arms with a huff, "The same evidence that she used to convince the cops they should investigate ME. And since she can't prove it was me...she's gonna' try and prove it was him, instead."
And, leaning heavily against the wall, William added, "And the problem is: if she really has proof o' somethin'..."
"Then," Elliot concluded, "it probably IS evidence against you."
"Yep!" William chirped through a sarcastic glee, as he gulped down another belt of rum...
...and Kristoff cast his eyes about the room. Elliot was staggered by the news. His eyes wavered and his footing grew unsteady. But his tiger had come to his side, and slowly pulled him down onto the couch, in his arms. And, instead of his son, Kristoff felt his eyes drawn to his brother, and to the bottle of rum at his lips.
He'd made Elliot a promise.
"Ell?" He asked, "Uhm...could you give me a minute?"
"Wh-what?" the boy's head jerked up, his eyes fearful and confused.
"Don't worry. I'll be right back," Kris flashed his son a comforting smile. "We still have a lot to talk about. But...I think I need to take care of something first, okay?"
But William was blind to it all.
There, against the wall, he didn't see Elliot's frightened reaction. He didn't see Hunter move to his aid, or hear Kristoff take his leave. The alcohol was doing its job. Where his compartmentalization had failed, his rum had happily taken over. He was numb. He was in denial. He was dreaming he would wake up tomorrow to a world where this...none of this...had ever happened.
And he didn't even see his brother drawing close, until a single word roused him from his waking coma...
"Billy?"
"Toffy?" Will blinked and shook his head, pulling his eyes up to meet his brother's.
And it WAS his brother! It was Kris. He called him Billy! And those eyes. They weren't the eyes he'd seen less than an hour before. The rage and the disgust? The cold hatred? They were gone. Of course, they still weren't the eyes he knew. They still weren't Toffy's. But it was more than he'd dared to expect, either way.
He felt a smile parting his lips...
...and saw Kris meet that smile with his own, "Let's, uhm...let's get you cleaned up."
William set the bottle aside, and followed his brother along toward the bathroom. He felt he might cry at any moment. And then he felt he might laugh! Had the rum really left him so emotional? But he had reason to be. Jokes aside, even without the rum...he had reason.
And despite himself, he wiped away a tear as he and his brother stepped into the bathroom.
Less than an hour ago, Kristoff had attacked him. Justifiably...but still. And now? Now he was pulling a cotton ball, a rag, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the cabinets.
"Just so you know..." his brother's voice was low, as he placed the cotton ball at the open mouth of the bottle, "I'm not apologizing for hitting you."
William watched the alcohol soak through the cotton, "I didn't expect you would."
Kris turned, a paw gently taking his brother by the arm, and pulled him toward the sink, "Lean against the counter."
And Will did as he was told, though not without a token protest: "You don't have to do this, you know. I could handle the clean-up, myself."
"I know," the elder husky gently tilted back his patient's head. "But you're still my little brother, Billy. And I still have to take care of you."
The soaked cotton made contact with tender, broken flesh, and William jumped. His toes curled, his paws griped the edge of the counter, his eyes screwed shut...
...and his brother laughed aloud, "Or maybe I just wanted to watch you squirm."
"A sadist, you are," William couldn't help but laugh along.
"Maybe a bit."
Toffy held his brother still, a paw on his chest, and, from that simple gesture alone, Billy felt another tear roll down his cheek. He was drunk. He knew he was drunk. And his brother was making the effort to help him stand erect. He was cleaning his wound. He was caring for him. And despite everything...he was still Toffy...
Billy heard the water running in the sink, and a moment later felt the warm, wet corner of a rag on his cheek, brushing through his fur. His cheek? Washing away his tears? Apparently, there'd been more than the couple he'd noticed.
"Toffy?" the whimper in his voice surprised him.
"Yeah, Billy?" as did the love in his brother's.
"Does this mean we're gonna' be okay?"
And the only answer he received was the dry corner of a rag blotting the moisture from his cheek...
...but it was close enough.
~
"I'm a doctor, remember?" Stanley reminded the room full of friends and family around him.
To his left and his right, Kristoff and Aaron sat with him on the couch. On the floor in front of him, Elliot was curled up in Hunter's arms. To the boys' back, in a wooden chair he'd pulled in from the dining room table, William continued to nurse his rum.
And as he sipped at his own drink -- a vodka and tonic -- Stan continued: "I do have some experience with this sort of thing,"
"You've worked on rape cases?" Aaron asked.
"No."
"Child molestation?" Will specified.
"No! No." The rabbit held up a paw to stop them so he could explain: "I haven't personally been involved in anything of the sort. But enough of my colleagues have that I know how it works. And plus, we're given more than our fair share of training on what to expect, should we ever be the attending physician in a case like this."
"And," Kris sounded hopeful, "you think we don't have anything to worry about?"
"I didn't say that," Stanley shook his head. "What I'm saying is: if there were real physical evidence -- I'm talking fluids of some sort -- then there would have already been a warrant out for one or both of your DNA. And the same could be said for any pictures she might have." He looked up at William, "If she had a photograph of your genitals, you two would have already had a very...entertaining photo shoot with the police."
"Makes sense," Hunter nodded. "Meshes with what I've seen on TV, anyway."
And Stan continued: "So I have to assume that whatever evidence she has is just that: evidence. Something suspicious, and enough to get the cops' attention." He smiled, "But nothing damning. No real proof."
"So whadda' we do, then?" Will asked, through his miraculously well-controlled slur. "We have no idea what she's got. So how d'we handle it?"
"Oh, I think facing this part should be fairly simple. Especially now that we're all on the same page." The rabbit began pointing from one fur to another, around the room, as he spoke, "If it's not enough that both the victim and the suspect will be telling the same story...we've also got the victim's father and boyfriend, the suspect's boyfriend, and a friend of the family's," he raised a paw, "all on board, as well. And I doubt her 'proof' will mean much in the face of that sort of solidarity."
"But wait," Kristoff stopped him. "A minute ago, when I asked if you thought we had nothing to worry about..."
"I implied that you still do," Stanley finished the thought for him. "But it's not her 'evidence' you need to be scared of. It's the other half of her argument."
Aaron verified: "That it's dangerous for him to live with me and Will?"
"Why?" William asked...
...and Elliot added: "Isn't that just more of her homophobia?"
"It is. But..." Stan paused and thought for a moment, before leaning forward to better explain himself: "Let's just start with the basic fact that she's a woman."
Elliot tilted his head, "What?"
"Oh, yeah." Kris, though, slumped in his seat, "I know where he's going with that."
"Do you?" Aaron asked...
...and his brother, the elder rabbit, simply motioned to Kristoff, giving him the floor.
"Unless there's some...extreme circumstances, the mother will usually win a custody battle," Kris explained. "My lawyers warned me about that, up front. Told me that my only real advantage, here, was Elliot's age, and that he WANTS to be with me."
And Stanley nodded, "Which would normally be a rather large advantage, I'd wager. Probably enough to tip the scales. The problem we have now, though, is that we don't live in a very progressive state. Gay marriage isn't legal here, yet. Neither is adoption..."
"Hell!" Will amended, through a much thicker slur than before: "There's not even any protection against w-workplace diss...crimination!"
"Precisely!" Stan agreed. "It's bad enough that she's already got the gender advantage. But, unfortunately, because we live where we live, this argument will carry a good deal of weight."
Kristoff sighed, "I was so busy worrying about Billy going to jail, that I'd almost forgotten this was all just about the custody battle."
"Well is there anything we can do?" William asked...
...and Aaron added: "How can we convince a judge that there's nothing wrong with Ell living with a gay couple?"
"Actually..." Elliot sat up, at a sudden thought, "I think I have an idea!"
~
And Sibirskaia continues...
* This particular chapter (and the rest of Sibirskaia) was written entirely by Oloroso Rhone. But it was based on characters and story lines I created jointly with my friend Phil Anthro Pist
If you'd like to go say hi to Phil, he's got an account on here at http://phil-anthro-pist.sofurry.com/ *
Didn't wait long on fulfilling the name of this arch, did I?
The long awaited reveal has come! Will and Elliot's secret is exposed! Kris knows...Aaron has apparently known for a while...Hunter, of course, knows...and even Stan knows! But where do they go from here? What's Elliot's idea? What proof does Robyn have? Will Billy and Toffy really be okay, or has this revelation (and the punch that followed) ruined their relationship forever? How will this change Kris and Elliot's relationship?
What other lies have yet to be exposed?
And when the HELL will we see Scott, James, and (most importantly) Jeff again!?
Anyway, thanks for reading!
I welcome any feedback. Comment or PM me here, or email me at theottercoon[at]gmail.com
And if you enjoyed this chapter, and want to support my efforts to write more, I welcome any donations you would be willing to give
See you around for the next 19 chapters of Sibirskaia!