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            Even in October it is still

warm in Tampa Bay, still balmy, the mugginess does not abate and so it is still

shorts weather - this was the allure and thrill of the area many years ago, the

marvel that, to the northerners that dwelt in the chilling majesty of the

near-remainder of the American continent, there could be someplace nearby, in

fact not very far at all, that still tasted of an endless Indian Summer.

            It was pleasantly

air-conditioned inside Andrew's Grand Wagoneer and when he shut the engine off

and opened the door he was greeted with it, that warm breath that blew on

Florida and the sunlight that slanted oddly, the only indicator it was Autumn here.

He was dressed for the season, however - a tanktop from his school, USF, and

some linen khakis.

            He had parked in an

expansive parking lot next to an exceedingly busy avenue - Fowler, down the

street from his university, to eat at the Chipotle some of his classmates would

frequent - and in the too-bright sunshine that struck his eyes past the futile

bill of a well-worn Baltimore Ravens hat, he saw the person he would be meeting

for lunch that day:

            "Hey Brother," he

called, waving.

            Leaning against a

near-antique Mercedes coupe that one would never guessed had been, once,

wrapped around a tree and thought totaled, was Stephen, his younger sibling who

resembled him physically and little other else - his clothing was fitted and

expensive-looking but still Florida, a t-shirt and khaki shorts, agile-looking

Pumas on his feet.

            Stephen, whose eyes were

hidden behind sunglasses, waved back."Sup Drewseph."

            They came together for a

tight hug - Andrew stronger than Stephen, and few inches taller than his

younger brother.

            As they separated, Stephen smiled,

a sly, impish look.      "Nice hat - I'm

surprised Bligh could even remove it off his head."

            Andrew chuckled. "Nah

• he just figured since we was staying in today, I could wear it."

            "It smells like him,

doesn't it."

            The question - it wasn't a

question at all, a statement, Stephen was clever enough to know the answer and

so had phrased it that way - still gave Andrew a small pause.

            "Uh--"

            He burst out into

embarrassed laughter - his tail, hidden in the depths of his khakis so that no

one could see, struggled to wag.

            "Yeah - yeah it does."

            "Gaaay."

            Andrew laughed again, and

Stephen did the same, but softer, adjusting his sunglasses - Andrew, leaning

back against his Jeep, smiled, bemused.

            "Nice shades," he

said.

            "Do I look cool in

them?"Stephen asked listlessly, as though already bored with the idea.

"I think I look cool in them."

            Andrew sniffed. "C'mon

Brother."

            Stephen tilted his head.

"What?"

            "You're hungover and

you know it."

            Stephen bit his lip, mockingly

ingénue. "Nuh-uh!"

            "Don't even try!"

            "Oh fine."

            Off came the sunglasses

with a dramatic swerve - Andrew winced inwardly as he saw that his brother's

eyes, squinting painfully against the brightness they were now exposed to, were

deeply tired, near-purple raccoon-rings underneath.

            "Wha - Jesus dude!" Andrew exclaimed.

            "Right?"

            "What - happened?"

            "Party at Kappa last

night." He smiled demurely. "You like dubstep?"

            "I hate dubstep."

            Stephen chortled again.

"Me too, and now I hate it even more."

            "What, that all they

played?"

            "All night," Stephen answered in

exasperation - back came the sunglasses with a frown. "You know how many

times they played Summertime Sadness?

How many remixes there are of that one bitch and that one fucking song?"

            Andrew couldn't help but

laugh at his brother's theatrics. "I - I dunno, how many?"

            "Too goddam many is how many! And it's not

even fucking summer, it's - October

or - whatever passes for October for

you mutants--"

            Andrew cracked up, a hand

coming to his mouth. "Oh, Brother, c'mon--"

            "Whatever, I got some

decent drinks out of it." He sighed - that same demurity, the same boredom

with life itself. "Too many,

huh, huh!"

            "Hey," Andrew

answered. "You said it, not me."

            Stephen sneered at him.

"Really?"

            "Really." Andrew

squeezed his brother's shoulder. "You get here alright, then?"

            Stephen looked to Andrew's

hand where it was on his shoulder, then back to Andrew, a slow smile appearing.

            "I...fucking hate Tampa

traffic."

            Andrew withdrew his hand

and folded his arms across his chest, giving a more profound lean against his

Jeep. "Zat so?" He was quoting Bligh, his best friend, now one of his

husbands, present, with his hat, even when he was absent.

            "Yeah - like, how the

fuck do you deal?"

            "I mean--" Andrew motioned

with his head to the stream of shiny cars on the road. "You just get used

to it, yanno?"

            "Huh," Stephen

intoned back. "Is Bligh used to

it? Like, Cody just skateboards everywhere, but Bligh - that truck of his--"

            "Not, uh..." He

chuckled. "Not really."

            "Figured - outside of

like, what, Charleston, he's never--"

            "Hey, give him some

credit, he's doing his best." Andrew laughed. "Took me awhile too,

yanno."

            "Yeah a bit, I guess, but like, um..." He

paused, as though the thoughts in head had coagulated too thickly, and Andrew

leaned forward, eyebrows raised.

            "Brother?"

            Stephen shook his head

rapidly. "I was just - like, um...thinking."

            "About?"

            "Cody. He can't really

skate now that he's--"

            Andrew nodded.

"Yeah."

            "So how is he? I've

been texting him--"

            "Yeah, yeah I saw

that," Andrew said with a smile. "Y'all do it all day."

            "Well I guess - is

that bad?"

            "Nah." Andrew's smile

grew. "Just funny, I guess - it's cool y'all end up being friends."

            "I just been so

fucking busy I ain't seen y'all much - so like - how...is he, I guess?"

            Andrew nodded. "He's

fine, he - you know his uh..." He chuckled to himself, a stifled bit of

horror consumed in an instant by peculiar pride. "His belly's pretty

big."

            Stephen raised an eyebrow.

"Wait, really?"

            "Well yeah, I mean

he's--"

            "No I get it, and

like, I've just - schedule's fucked, I haven't been able to see him - y'all -

and hang--"

            "You want to hang with

him?"

            Stephen frowned. "Uh,

yeah? He's my age, dude. We could, like, do fun things together."

            Andrew seemed reluctant

with the idea, yielding only when he remembered Cody's condition was temporary.

"Maybe - maybe when he's not--"

            "Yeah," Stephen cut in, almost annoyed. "Like, really? I'm

not dumb."

            "You seem to forget

what he's going through pretty easy." Andrew frowned, a gentle scolding.

            "Uh - uh--"

Stephen stammered, taken offguard. "I don't - I don't mean to?"

            "I know you

don't."

            "It's just, like

I--" Stephen seemed to struggled with the concept. "I'm not really -

this is new to me."

            "Being an uncle?"

            Stephen opened his mouth

but then shut it, a comical frown. "Sure.

Let's go with that."

            Andrew chuckled. "It

really isn't that hard to understand, Brother."

            Two eyebrows made an

appearance over Stephen's sunglasses. "Uh, a dude who's part-dog getting

pregnant isn't hard to--?"

            Back came Andrew's hand to

his brother's shoulder, giving it a squeeze of finality.

            "I didn't say it

weren't weird, Brother - but it really ain't that hard to understand."

            A peculiar smile spread

across Stephen's face - it started off as the usual, the demure, the

uninterested, to not betray being defeated, but then even this melted

away...there was a little chortle, a tiny pinprick of vulnerability, and then:

            "I'm - I'm gonna be an

uncle."

            And Andrew nodded.

"Yes you are." He relinquished his hand.

            Stephen seemed to consider

the thought for a moment - behind his sunglasses it was difficult to tell.

            "You're..." he

started slowly. "I know that - tone you're

using, you're - really confident about this, aren't you?"

            "Well..." Andrew weighed

the question. "I'm trying to be."

            For a second - and just a

second, Stephen's face grew serious, and he doffed his sunglasses, the gruesome

raccoon-eyes again, but there it was, a kindness, an understanding that Andrew

knew Stephen was capable of in rare and beautiful doses.

            Folding his arms so that

they peeked out from under his arm, Stephen smiled, sweetly, no irony with it: "Then

• I hope I can be - a good uncle, then."

            Andrew chuckled - he pulled

his brother into a tight hug, feeling his tail wag inside his khakis.

            "I know you

will," he said softly. "I know you will, Brother." They

separated - Andrew cleared his throat. "Just - maybe cut down on the

drinking?"

            The sunglasses came back

and the spell was broken - Stephen grinned back, malicious: "Fuck off."

            "Can't blame a guy for

trying," Andrew said with a chuckle.

            Stephen frowned, and made a

noise - "Eh?" - before sighing profoundly. "After last night

though? I'll consider it - fuck, I'm ruined."

            Andrew sniffed. "Stevie do you just -

not drink water? Like, at all?"

            "Dude I'm trying to

get fucked up," Stephen

protested. "I ain't trying to be responsible! I mean shit, I ain't driving--"

            "Don't joke about

that," Andrew interrupted him darkly.

            Quite without meaning to,

they both turned to look at Stephen's car, the two-door Mercedes with its enormous

hood and leering four headlights, the impeccable lines of a lost generation of

automotive design from three decades before.

            "Weren't

nothing," Stephen said, trying to be brave about destroying the car and

being thrown through the windshield to miraculously - perhaps not miraculously

at all, as he later discovered - survive, not two years before. "I

wrecked, I was drunk, Pa got me off on a minor charge - no big."

            "I coulda lost

you."

            Andrew's ears - the velvety

dog-like ears he hid from the world - strained to twitch in concern inside his

cap.

            "You wouldn't've lost

me," Stephen said quietly - but still looking away. "I'm like y'all,

remember? Not - doggy, or anything - but I can heal--"

            Andrew's sad frown was

still immobile across his face: "You didn't know that."

            Stephen shuffled where he

stood, visibly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," he

muttered - not coy, not trying to be funny, but defeated, yielding to his

brother's protection. "Can we - can we change the subject?"

            Andrew squeezed his

shoulder one more time - Stephen's head returned to meet his earnest, serious

gaze.

            "Don't be acting

dangerously like that again - Gustavus and William need a good uncle in their

life."

            Stephen was dumbstruck.

"Who?"

            "Your nephews."

            Stephen's expression of

bafflement did not subside. "You - y'all named them already?"

            Andrew nodded. "Yes we

did."

            "William..."

Stephen said. "William...that name - that was - that was Granddad's

name!"

            "Yes it was."

            "And Gustavus - Pappy,

so Bligh's--" He stopped holding up a hand. "Wait - wait. How do y'all

even know they're gonna be male? And shit, if y'all are a pack of - uh, dogs or whatever, then he's gonna have

more than one, right? Hell, he'll have more than two, ain't he--?"

            Andrew said cut him off

with a quick headshake. "We can't exactly go anywhere to prove he's right,

but - he says two. Twins. Both boys - little puppies."

            Up went Stephen's eyebrow.

"He says? He - didn't tell me any of that, what the fuck!"

            "Well he might be

a little afraid to tell you, that's some pretty heavy - uh, yanno--"

            "I'll let him know,"

Stephen murmured. "He shouldn't be like that - but, like, I guess I can

see it."

            Andrew nodded once more. "Yeah, he um - he

calls it intuition, just - his body knows, that there's twins and that they're

male."

            "His body knows..." Stephen repeated.

            "That's right."

            Stephen's mouth remained

agape before it shut again. "I - I don't--" He shook his head,

rapidly. "Intuition, huh?"

            "Exactly."

            "Wow," Stephen

said, obviously impressed. "I guess that's really legit - fuck, I'd

believe him." He paused with a slight frown. "You believe him, right?"

"I - I..."

            He paused, feeling even in

front of the bustling portico and the searing heat of Fowler Avenue in front of

him another, inner warmth of exquisite joy at being a father, even if he was

certain, by Cody's same intuition, that his offspring would not be human at

all.

            "I do, yeah, but it's-" He chuckled to

himself again. "It's hard to describe, because - all this time I just, you

think life is reducible, to - to just chemicals-" He shrugged.

"Really! And that things like - like intuition aren't actually--"

            He was interrupted by a

loud, drawn out groan.

            "Holy - fucking - shit, Brother I am hung-to-the-fucking-over, can we please take science-time with Professor Drewseph inside?"

            Andrew erupted into

laughter, his tail wagging to life, at the sound of his brother's theatrical

misery.

            "Nooope!" he

taunted. "Nope, nope, we're gonna stay out here for the rest of the

afternoon!'

            Stephen's face became

ferocious. "I will kill

you," he hissed, "I will murder

you and I will not fucking care

who sees!"

            Andrew placed a gripping

hand on his brother's shoulder, shaking his head, still laughing.

            "Come on, you--"

            "I'm starving!" Stephen cried.

            "I'm kinda hungry

too," said Andrew with a final chuckle. "Let's go."

            Andrew opened the door for

them and they were greeted by a the sourceless wall of noise of a busy

lunchtime Chipotle - Stephen scanned the area and nodded approvingly.

            "Cool, line ain't too

long."

            "You know what I

want?" Andrew asked.

            "You get the same

thing every fucking time, so--" Stephen chortled. "Yes, I know what you want, fucker."

            Andrew chuckled, patting

his brother on the shoulder. "Gonna find us a seat," he said.

            "Aight," Stephen

called after him.

            There was an open seat

where few others were nearby, even though the place was already rather crowded

for the lunchtime rush - he made himself comfortable, adjusting his hidden tail

so that he wasn't sitting directly on it, pulled out his phone and texted

Bligh, checking in...earlier that morning he had been on campus to straighten out

having his GRE scores sent to the University of Florida, he had barely seen

either or he Cody, it felt like, all day.

            Everything

okay?

            He watched Stephen go

through the line, almost curtained in by the people around him - the phone

vibrated, and he glanced down to see what Bligh had sent him.

            well

sumthing weird did happen 2day but its okay have fun

            He frowned - Bligh was

highly emotional but he was also very understated, so something weird,

according to him, could mean...anything.

            Is

it bad?

            He laid his phone flat on

the table, watching it intently for the seconds that stretched out

uncomfortably - until it buzzed again:

            no not

really just a lil weird drew its ok

            He frowned deeper.

"Dammit, Bligh..."

            Please

tell me?

            Before he could see if

Bligh would answer, he spied Stephen approaching him, trying to balance with

what Andrew knew to be shaky, hungover hands a metal platter with two bowls and

two drinks, a paper bag in his fingers.

            Andrew stood up, calling

out: "Hey - hey Brother, you need help?"

            "Nah--" Stephen

quickened his pace to get to their table. "We good - I got it." He

let the paper bag between his fingers fall to the table, where it landed neatly

on its bottom.

            "You got chips?"

Andrew said, eyebrow raised.

            Stephen almost looked

offended. "Fuck yeah, I got chips!" Andrew chuckled. "Good man,

good man."

            "Aight then, so--"

Down came his food first. "Chicken bowl, extra corn, extra cheese,

guacamole for me--" He set down

the bowl where he had planned to sit, and next to it came what he had ordered

for Andrew: "--and steak bowl

double meat, veggies, pinto beans, cheese

for the big stupid dog!"

            Andrew rolled his eyes with a

chuckle. "Thanks." He motioned to Stephen's food. "I see you're

being adventurous."

            "Oh fuck off, I'm

hungover, I need bland shit."

            "Then why did you get

guac? Shit's spicy, Stevie, you know that!"

            "It's organic, it's good

for me and, like, all that noise." With a sneer, he took a forkful of

cheese and corn to munch before he continued, mid-chew: "And I thought dogs weren't supposed to have

onions! Answer that, scientist!"

            "They aren't,"

Andrew answered smugly, taking his cup of water to sip. "But uh - for some

reason we can. We sweat too, and far as I know I ain't had trouble with

avocados - grapes, raisins - chocolate, yeah, definitely, but there's limits

between the parallels of what dogs can do, and what we can do."

            "We can do," Stephen repeated.

            Andrew set his cup down, a

smile that he did not mean to make curling in his lips. "We can do, yes."

            "Me and you,"

Stephen pressed with his guac-covered fork going from himself to Andrew.

"You and me. Cody - Bligh--"

            Andrew chuckled, shaking

his head. "Brother I got what

you meant."

            "Good!" Stephen

said, smiling mischievously.

            The two set to eating,

oblivious to one another for some spare minutes even as they sat across from

one another - Stephen on his phone, thumb scrolling rapidly back and forth, and

Andrew, like a true gourmand, letting his nose, with its enhanced ability to

sense, enjoy the unique and delicious layers, with every forkful of food.

            At some length Andrew

looked up and caught Stephen doing the same - the two brothers smiled at each

other and Andrew put his fork down to speak.

            "Uh - thanks for

inviting me."

            "No problem, dude.

Ain't seen you in a minute."

            "And thanks for

paying."

Stephen chortled, setting his phone down. "C'mon Drewseph, you know I

don't mind that shit."

            Andrew nodded at his

brother's bowl. "But where, uh - where'd you get the money?"

            "What - what

money?"

            "To pay for

this."

            "Oh, uh - yanno, Ma

still sends me some money bout every two weeks."

            At the mention of their

mother Andrew slowed his chewing - he cleared his throat, reaching for his

water. "I see," was his answer. He felt his brother watch him for a

few seconds before pressing, his voice going uncharacteristically low and

tactful:

            "She - um, she asked

about you."

            Andrew felt his eyebrows

raise - he stuck his fork amidst some rice and sighed, his appetite

dissipating, folding his arms and leaning back some in his chair.

            "Zat - zat so now?" He heard Bligh's voice

in his own, attempting to give him strength.

            "Yeah," Stephen

said back.

            "Well what did she

say?"

            "She--" His

brother adjusted his sunglasses. "She asked if I had seen you, yanno,

since we're both in Florida now, I still got Insta and Facebook and shit but I

ain't took no selfies with--"

            "Thought they were

pissed at you for moving here."

            Stephen shrugged.

"They're getting over it, best I can tell."

            Back came Andrew's

eyebrows. "Really," he said flatly.

            "Really," Stephen

repeated.

            Andrew sighed, rolling his

eyes and shaking his head. "Well what - uh, I guess, what did you tell

her?"

            "That I was gonna see

you soon, but we've been talking, and - kinda - yanno, that was it."

            "They know about

Bligh?"

            Stephen shrugged.

"They didn't mention it. I'm not sure who back home knows Bligh left or -

whatever."

            An unwelcome, awkward

silence fell between the two of them and Stephen fidgeted in his seat - he

spoke up again before Andrew could get too lost in thought:

            "Do you - Brother do

really even care, though?"

            Andrew's eyes had gone

distant away from their table as he continued to eat, through the window, onto

the bustling street that was jammed with zooming cars - he turned his head back

to his brother, swallowing, opening his mouth as though to answer, but he

closed it, frowning.

            It had been a long time

since he remembered, as he was now, their father's final homophobic diatribe

after he had come out of the closet officially, telling everyone about he and

Cody's relationship - it was a year and a half ago but it felt like some other

lifetime, foreign and unfamiliar.

            The mindset was utterly

different - Andrew had, in that moment, cast off his family, his hometown, even

Bligh, anything that West Virginia was to him so that he could become a new

person, fully and completely, in Florida...a dead-end, a nowhere, that Bligh had

rescued him from, if brutally, if forcibly.

            He and Stephen's mother had

done nothing to try to ameliorate things, she did whatever their father wanted

and that was that, there was no sense in trying to talk to her because all

roads led back to her husband, their father, whose word overrode everything and

everyone else.

            There was too much hurt

even now, even after Bligh coming down here to Florida in his secret half-dog

state to change he and Cody into the same - even after Stephen revealed

abnormalities about his own body that meant they shared more than just family

blood but a kinship of not being fully human...things were too damaged, too

broken, to reconsider, to attempt to make peace with his parents.

            He was a grown man - at all

of twenty-one married, about to graduate college, and have children of his own

• the torrid guilt of hearing his father speak about shame on the family name,

Lightfoot, and feeling the insidious centuries ring deafening around it, no

longer affected him.

            He no longer cared.

            Perhaps he should change

his name - Andrew Lynch - and let

Stephen be the one to kill the family name, himself, alone...something that,

refocusing his distant eyes back to his brother, he knew they'd both relish

doing.

            But for now - Stephen was

watching him, waiting for an answer.

            "No," Andrew said

at last - slowly, deliberately. "No, I - don't."

            Stephen smiled - that rare,

precious thing, of sweetness and support and understanding. "And that's

okay," he said softly.

            Andrew retrieved his fork,

scooping out the rice that was on it to take another bite - the tension

vanished, he was hungry again.

            "Told you before -

you're the only family I got anymore." He smiled, closed-mouthed, as he

chewed.

            "I know," Stephen

answered with the same softness as before. "I - I know. I'm glad you're my

brother and - Cody and Bligh are my - uh, brothers-in-law."

            Andrew chuckled heartily.

"Yeah - yeah."

            "Guess I better change

the subject, right?" Stephen said with a sheepish smile.

            "If you want,"

Andrew said. "I'm over it - I got my family here, us four, it don't bother

me."

            "Well..." It was

Stephen's turn to sigh, scratching his eyebrow as he resumed eating. "I -

think it's best..."

            Andrew nodded - Stephen

cleared his throat.

            "Oh yeah, by the way I

meant to ask you, uh - did you like the book I got you?"

            "Which one? The werewolf

one?"

            "Yeah - Wild Things."

            "Yeah, it was--"

Andrew chuckled. "I mean Bligh read it more, uh, intently than I did, you

know he's really into that stuff."

            "Well what did he think

of it?" Stephen cut the air with his fork to point. "What did you think of it?"

            "I actually thought it

was pretty great, but - I'm no critic. I think Bligh, uh--" At the mention

of Bligh's name Stephen pulled out his phone to see if he had texted him back -

he had not. "Uh - uh, I think Bligh thought it was a little too

unrealistic." He replaced the phone back to his pocket with a sympathetic

smile. "You know how--"

            "Unrealistic?" Stephen cut in, dubious. "Really?

Werewolves? Fucking werewolves? Are unrealistic?"

            Andrew held up his hands.

"Dude, hey, he's real particular about that stuff, okay?"

            He could see, through his

sunglasses, Stephen rolling his eyes. "Can't believe this - that fucker - that - arrogant--" His

frustration shut him down and he was only able to manage a final punctuation:

"Unrealistic."

            "Dude wait - wait,

okay?" He smiled, hoping his brother would do the same - he only shook his

head and looked away, as if expecting to be now placated. "Listen, he - he

still liked the way it was written."

            "It's a decent

book," Stephen said.

            "So, yeah - I mean, has

he - do you have anything else the guy wrote?"

            "Oh, um--" Stephen

seemed to think a moment. "The guy, he's Italian but he writes in English,

it's - Campari - Davide, I think, like David

but with an e on the end - maybe look

him up?"

            "Add some stuff to my

Amazon wishlist for Christmas,"  Andrew

declared with a grin.

            Stephen stared at him.

"Oh boy. Christmas."

            "Better got

started," Andrew chuckled. "Only got a couple of months."

            Stephen took a long sip of

water. "And - and - you graduate

round that time, yeah?"

            Andrew cleared his throat,

smiling nervously, his tail trying to wag, feeling the sudden awareness that he

stood on a precipice of greatness that had been conveniently forgotten reappear

from nowhere.

            "Y-yeah - yeah I am."

            "So you ready? Ready to

be big-big man, Dr. Andrew for real for real?"

            Andrew took another forkful of

food, considering his answer.     "Yeah

• I am."

            "So then - how'd that

interview go with that dude?"

            "Which dude?"

            "The science guy in

Gainesville, your fucking grad school thing."

            "Oh," Andrew

replied, frowning. "Drake Le Carde."

            "Yeah, him - also that's

a really faggoty name."

            "Not too faggoty - he's Canadian - from Quebec." He ate a forkful

of steak. "Apparently his dad was a fashion designer in the 60's, and his dad was a famous detective before

World War II - not that anybody in America's ever heard of them, I guess."

            Stephen leaned forward with a

chortle. "So hugely faggoty--"

            Andrew laughed. "Cut it

out, Brother, geez--"

            "I'm just saying - I'm

just saying it's really faggoty." Stephen stabbed a cheese-covered clump

of chicken and shoved it into his mouth. "But yeah, how'd it go?"

            "Uh..." Andrew swallowed

his chewed steak, chuckling mirthlessly to himself. "Bout that."

            "Bad?" Stephen

guessed.

            Andrew rolled his eyes.

"I mean he was really nice for the most part, and he's - yanno, one of the

leading scientists in his field in North America and so on--"

            "That don't mean

shit."

            Andrew frowned again to concede

the point. "I know that now - he

was just...I'm not sure what I was expecting, I guess."

            "Like how?"

            "Um..." Andrew spun

his hand in the air, trying to get the words to come to him. "I just gotta

weird vibe from him, if that makes sense? Like - he was nice, sure, and really

smart, I mean the man's the best in his field for a reason, but he--" Andrew frowned. "He was - yeah, just

really intense, asked me a lot of personal questions, because um - there's some

project he's working on, and he

didn't explain the connection and - I kinda didn't wanna know at that point."

            Even behind the sunglasses

Andrew could see Stephen's eyes widen in alarm. "The fuck?"

            Andrew help up his hands, fork

between his fingers. "Don't ask, dude, I didn't wanna know."

            It was Stephen's turn to

frown, dissatisfied with the answer. "Huh," he said.

            "Yeah."

            "Personal questions,

though - did he ask about the hat?"

            "Mmm..." Andrew tried

to remember, his hand coming to the bill of the cap in question that hid his

canid ears from the world. "No, he didn't, but he wanted to know if I had

any family, or if I was married, he got real

personal--"

            "You said yes,

right?"

            "Yeah dude, of

course," Andrew sniffed.

            Stephen grinned. "You big

queer."

            Andrew gave an appreciative

smile to his brother. "But yeah, uh - I guess he just...skeezed me out, if

you get me."

            "I do," Stephen

replied. "He's old and respected and shit, I guess he just thinks he can

pry into somebody's life and who-gives-a-fuck, right?"

            "Basically," said

Andrew with a sigh. "And his office - I just him, probably, but he...smelled weird."

            Stephen stopped in mid-chew.

"Well you got that big dog nose, you said--"

            "Yeah, yeah," Andrew

waved his hand. "But I mean it -this was different. It was...sickly

sweet?" He shook his head, slowly, the memory creeping back to him.

"It...I'd never smelt anything like it before, and it stuck with me, yanno?

It just - that more than anything weirded me out, and I really dunno why..."

            "Huh," Stephen

answered, having resumed chewing. "That's, uh - that's weird."

            "Yeah..." Andrew said

quietly. "Yeah it is."

            "What's he do again?

Bugs?"

            "Prehistoric bugs," Andrew answered. "Paleoentomology"

            Stephen's eyebrow rose above

the lens of his sunglasses. "Wait, why--" He took a drink. "Uh -

I thought you wanted to study moths--?"

            "Well there were

prehistoric moths, Brother - the field isn't as crowded as it is for--" He

chuckled. "For studying living moths,

I guess."

            "And you're okay with

that?"

            Andrew shrugged. "Why

not? I wouldn't be studying directly under him so it's whatever, he'll probably

be on my committee but he's real busy and - good chance I won't see much of

him."

            "That ain't what I

meant," Stephen said knowingly.          "What

did you mean?"

            "C'mon. Remember? You

wanted a new species named after you and shit?"

            Andrew sniffed, grinning.

"Ah - ah yeah, that. One thing at a time, Brother."

            "Dream big, dude."

            "Well I - there's--"

Andrew swallowed his food, struggling with how to phrase what he meant. "I

still have that thing where - I wanna have an Attacus altas--" He put down his fork, holding up his index

finger. "--perch, right here, so I can feel its wings."

            Stephen stared at his brother,

his face possessed with another rare quality - a wistfulness, a respect, a

small smile that came from the understanding of decades between them as

siblings.

            He nodded, slowly. "Don't

mean you still can't."

            Andrew folded his finger back

into his hand. "I know. He said my chances were good to get into the

program, so I've kinda - quit looking around."

            "Praise Allah, he's quit looking around," Stephen

guffawed sarcastically.

            Andrew shook his head.

"Yeah, yeah."

            Stephen sneered. "Don't

even try that shit! You and grad school got

old real fucking quick."

            "Well thanks," Andrew said ruefully.

"I do remember the rant you gave me over - text, right? - a weeks back,

here." He slid his cup closer to his brother with a wry smile. "I

guess now that I ain't talking up every

four-year university on the East Coast, you can go refill my water,

right?"

            Stephen's mouth drew into a

ferocious frown. "Using my own words against me!" He was sarcastic

and theatrical - he threw himself in a slant as though he had been pierced with

an imaginary arrow. "My own brother! How! How?!"

            Andrew's wry smile did not

relent. "You might be my brother but you're still a major dick."

            Back came Stephen to lean,

impishly, across the table. "Guilty, fucker."

He grabbed his brother's cup and his own. "Water, right?"

            "Yup," said

Andrew with a chuckle.

            "Cool - be back."

            As Stephen slipped off to

refill their drinks, Andrew pulled out his phone once more - there was the text

notification, the polite little envelope, and with a quick swipe of his thumb downward

he saw Bligh had, indeed, texted him back.

            His eyes widened.

            im

giving milk from my niples like cody not really big like him but it coming out

now            "Holy shit," Andrew said aloud.

"He's - lactating?"

            His mind raced - why would

this happen? There was no indication Bligh, like Cody, could go into heat and

have puppies, there was no reason for his body to start a process of galactorrhea...unless

their species did that, the sire and

the dam both producing milk in preparation

for the puppies being born, there were species of bats that did that but...

            ...but if that was the case,

why hadn't he, too?

            He didn't have time to

think or to consider, there were entirely too many possibilities - he dashed

off a text in response, something noncommittal, for now:

            Is

it bad?

            He still waited - Stephen

was approaching quickly and he tapped the glass of his screen with his

fingertip, a nervous, kinetic gesture.

            As Stephen came back to the

table, an answer came:no not real bad but its weird i reckon u

would kno what was causing it            "Stephen," he

said, his voice low, his eyes trailing from the screen to his brother who had

not yet sat down, the drinks still in his hand. "I - hey, uh - sit, c'mon,

sit."

            His brother did as he was

told but his face reflected something askance at his brother's shift in tone.

            "What - what, what is

it?"

            "It's - it's about

Bligh."

            Stephen dug his tongue into

his cheek as he thirstily slurped his water - with a profound swallow, he

frowned.

            "What about him? Is

something wrong?"

            "Not--" The blush

returned to Andrew's cheek, and the movement of his ears in his cap. "No,

it's just--"

            "Just what, Brother, spit it the fuck

out."

            "He's--" Andrew

leaned forward, voicing dipping to a whisper. "He's begun to lactate."

            Stephen recoiled, his mouth

fell open, an unrestrained horror that any other time would have been funny: "Oh

• oh Jesus--"

            "Now hold on, it's

probably nothing," Andrew pressed, trying to keep the conversation stable.

"He probably just accidentally absorbed some hormone by being around Cody--"

            "That's so

gross!" Stephen hissed. "That's so, so, so fucking gross--"

            "How is that

gross?" Andrew cut in, annoyed. "Mammals do it all the time, that's

just how we're built."

            "But it's Bligh!"

Stephen answered. "You seen - you know how - how hairy he is! God he's gonna be sticky

and--" He mimicked a dry heave. "Sticky! Sticky, milky, hair!'

            Andrew sighed irritably.

"Keep your voice down!"

            "Oh fuck off,"

Stephen dismissed. "Nobody knows what the fuck we're talking about--"

He edged up in his seat to look around him. "And not like anyone can hear,

this place is pretty loud."

            Andrew was nonplussed.

"Still."

            "You people are like

Zoidberg, you know that?" Andrew tilted his head, warning Stephen he was

about to go too far - but Stephen did anyway. "Just - fluids, leaking stuff all the time!" He

groaned. "Why - why - why are

you people so nasty--"

            "That could easily be you," Andrew said with a bite of

defensive anger.

Stephen's head snapped to meet Andrew's gaze - he leaned in.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

            "You're one of us - or

did you forget that? You even said--"

            "But I'm still kinda hu--"

            "No," Andrew cut

him off peremptorily. "You aren't."

            Stephen shook his head,

sighing. "Oh you know what I

mean..."

            Andrew leaned back in his

chair, throwing a leg over his knee, staring at the floor to gather his

thoughts - his eyes flicked back to Stephen who was still frowning at him from

the other side of the table.

            "I think I should go

back," said Andrew.

            Stephen's frown collapsed

into alarm. "N-no, hey, Brother--"

            "It's not you,"

Andrew interrupted, knowing that Stephen would probably be worried it was

something he said - his hand reached to grasp his brother's to give it a

squeeze. "I know you were just joking."

            "I - y-yeah--"

Stephen panicked was the rarest sight of all, and it made Andrew uncomfortable.

            "Don't worry,"

Andrew said with another squeeze.

            It seemed to be Stephen's

turn to be uncomfortable - the sudden intimacy, and in public too - he coughed

and withdrew his hand and folded his arms.

            "You're serious? You're

going back to - like, check him out,  see

what he's--"

            He hesitated, and in the

fleeting instance of his brother trying to find words Andrew realized his

disgust was not actually a joke but something that he really felt, something

about Bligh being too much like Cody, maybe, some falter in the titanic sexual

paternalism that he knew Stephen still felt for his husband.

            Andrew finished for

him: "I'm - I am serious,

Stevie." He moistened his lips, staring at his phone screen. "I'm

gonna go back..." he murmured, even as his thumb moved across the

touchscreen:

            I'm

going to come back and take a look, okay? It's okay, Stephen understands.            But even as he typed it,

his eyes flew back to his brother, who once again had his eyebrows above the

lenses of his sunglasses, waiting on him.

            "You understand,

right?"

            It was disingenuous but

Stephen seemed not to notice.

            "Well I mean - so, this

is goodbye, then? So soon--"

            Andrew rose, slowly,

shoving his hands, his phone with one of them, into his pockets, his tail

stirring somewhat in his pants leg - he hesitated, trying to sum things up more

neatly than what he ended up saying:

            "Yeah."

            "Well, um - you ain't

got much of your bowl left..." He pointed at it.

            "That's - you can have

it if you want."

            "I may," Stephen

answered, "I'm not as fucked up as I was but...yeah."

            "Okay, that's - as

long as you're feeling better."

            "You gonna take the

chips?"

            "Y-yeah - Cody likes

them, I think he's told you."

            "Yeah, he has..."

            As though he was bored with

how much he himself had been avoiding the topic, Stephen waved his hand, a

gesture of acquiescence. "It's okay - I understand, I understand I can't

come with, neither."

            The understatement behind

it bothered Andrew at once and he barely managed to suppress a cringe.

"S-Stevie, listen, I know you invited me--"

            "You gotta take care

of them, right?"

            Andrew swallowed hard.

"I - uh..." He nodded. "Yes. Honestly? Yes. They - they need me to

• make sense of things."

            "So there ya go,"

Stephen replied with finality. "We all have our roles in this - this,

uh--" He chortled. "You called us family

but didn't Bligh call us - call us a pack?"

            "He still does."

Andrew gripped the bill of Bligh's cap that he had been wearing. "So is

that what you think?"

            "Been thinking about it, yeah."

            Andrew grasped the back of

the chair, grinning, feeling a small relief that Stephen seemed so

understanding...

            ...until he saw Stephen's

suddenly darken, his mouth drawn into a frown that was not quite one of his

characteristic sneers.

            "You take care of

Cody, okay? Bligh'll be alright but, like - yeah, take care of Cody."

            "Wha--"

            The abortive, meaningless half-word

was Andrew's defense, automatic, ingrained. He had been with Cody a year and a

half and the entire time until Bligh had come that was his position, what

Stephen now called into question, protector,

guardian, he had saved the boy - not really a boy at all, he was a full year older than Stephen - from

homelessness, from the street, and he had taken his safety and his security

often more seriously than his own.

            His ears tried to twitch

inside the cap to a degree that was freshly painful. "Are - are you saying

I'm not--?"

            "I have friends,

Drewseph, at Eckerd, right now, but I don't - and they probably can't even

tell, so that's probably fucked up of me, but whatevs - I don't really, uh, care about them?" He sighed. "They're

all the same, all the same richkid trustfund smoked-weed-once-now-they're-into-Marley

and all this - but I care about - I care about

you, Bligh, and - and mostly though, dude, I care about my

brother-in-law."

            "Your

brother-in-law..." Andrew repeated quietly, almost so quiet that it could

not be heard above the ambient din of the restaurant. "Cody."

            "Dakota," Stephen half-corrected. "He lets me call him

that sometimes - but - yeah."

            "You're worried about

him? Why--?"

            Stephen shrugged - as he

did, looking as though he was actually trying to shrug off the very notion.

"It's - it's yanno with Bligh doing this it - weird things are going on

and - ain't he - you said he was due, right?"

            "Due?" But then

Andrew knew what he meant. "Due

• prob--" He stopped, his mind racing to weigh the what he knew with what

he had to theorize on the spot. "Y-yes," he said, trying to force

confidence. "I - get - you, I - I understand."

"Yeah," said Stephen. "That's it - that ain't nothing bad on you

or anything, don't--"

            "No, no,"

Andrew agreed. "I told you - I understand." But even as he said it, he tried

to read his brother's face. "He's really - really your best friend - every

sense of the word," he guessed.

            "Yup," Stephen

affirmed - he leaned in, taking Andrew's disused bowl and scooping the contents

into his own. "You're - well, yanno, my big bro and all that really gay

anime stuff that comes with that--"

He paused, self-aware, as an expression of disgust crossed his face. "And

Bligh's like my dad - who I - fucked?"

            Andrew sniffed. "Yeah,

that's - that's not--"

            "So - but--" He finished

the task of combining the two bowls and set the now-empty one aside. "Cody

• yeah, he gets me, he gets how weird I am and how - kinda--" He stopped.

"What an asshole I can be, he's cool with that, we can talk for hours and

nothing gets weird or sexual or anything..." He stopped again, his head

moving slightly so that Andrew felt, behind the sunglasses, his eyes meet his

own. "You...know?"

            "I do know,"

Andrew said back. "I do - and - I said this before that, yanno, it was -

cool y'all were friends, but..." He smiled. "It's not just that, he -

he really needs a best friend, and--" He shrugged, still smiling. "I

think the way he talks, he feels the same about you."

            Stephen's face did not

change - it remained the same blank, the same quiet ultimatum.

            "So you'll take care

of him for me."

            "Yes," Andrew

said, feeling an earnestness he did not expect tremble his voice, his tail wag

just slightly. "Y-yes, I - I promise." And then, with a small

chuckle: "For both of us."

            "Thank - thank you,

Brother," came the murmur - but now Stephen relented, visibly relaxing.

"Fuck man," he said with a chortle, "I thought we were getting

lunch, not going on no feels trip--"

            "Wow," Andrew

said with flat sarcasm. "Memes."

            "I'm surprised your

no-Internet-having-ass even knows a what a meme is!"

            "I have the Internet, I just don't use

social networks--"

            "Oh kiss my ass, you

know what I meant."

            "Well," Andrew

continued gamely, "I did read Dawkins, and he coined the term--"

            Stephen held up a hand,

lips pursed. "No - no. Fuck off

with that atheist shit, Drewseph." Andrew laughed as Stephen's voice rose

in sarcastic defiance: "Not here,

not ever."

            The two seemed to know this

was the note they would leave on - Andrew straightened up some and relinquished

the hand he had on the back of the chair, pressing the bag of chips to his

side.

            "So I guess--"

            "Actually wait,"

Stephen cut in. "I just wanna say one more thing - um, one more thing - I'm

noticing something." There was a strange knowing, Yoda-like tone that

Andrew recognized at once, that piercing, inescapable insight his little

brother often had with others.

            His eyebrows went up:

"Yeah? What's that?"

            Stephen looked blind like

this, his head up, sunglasses on, no emotion being able to register in his eyes

or his upper face - just that same, damning smile.

            "You remember when you

called me - first time, you know, after y'all got together?"

            "I do, yeah."

            "Time I stayed with

y'all the first time, too--"

            "Um--" Andrew

stifled a chuckle, the memory still vaguely unpleasant, but passing into

something he could laugh at last. "Y-yeah, that also."

            Stephen nearly cut him off,

pressing ahead: "You're a lot less - jittery,

less trying to control shit, less kinda - I mean you were a little bit of a dick, to be honest."

            Andrew took the indictments

impassively, knowing his brother was going somewhere with this - he took into

hand the bag of chips, still folded at the top, as he waited for him to finish.

            "What I'm trying to

say, is that - I noticed, and I - I told you this outside, but this time, you

really are so much more--" He threw this head back, a brief melodrama to disarm

Andrew and make him smile - which succeeded. "Dare it be said? Confident."

            "Really!" Andrew

rejoined.

            "Really," Stephen

said back.

            He took the compliment with

a nod and a bashful grin and a stirring of his tail that he willed to ease, all

while knowing that his brother was more right than he probably could have known

• he felt, for the second time at lunch that day, the world of difference, the

gulf between who he was then and who he was now, the division between them a

stretch of growth that defied what he had long thought himself capable of.

            "Well...thank you,

Brother."

            "Now c'mere,"

Stephen said, motioning with both hands as he rose. "Gimme a hug."

            They came together again

and Andrew gripped him tight, tighter than he had in the parking lot, he patted

Stephen on the back and as they separated Andrew remembered what was said about

Cody - Andrew's soulmate besides Stephen's closest semblance of a normal and

healthy relationship untainted by sex or paternalism - and he whispered warmly

into his brother's ear:

            "I'll take care of

Cody, okay?"

            "Okay," came

Stephen's answer, restive with restrained emotion.

            "Bligh too - I know

you love Bligh too, we're family, I won't let nothing happen to family..."

            Stephen nudged him back and

Andrew saw that he was nodding, he heard him clear his throat and for one of

those rare, beautiful seconds his face was absolutely humble and taken aback -

but it vanished, like the others, and like the others with one of those cruelly

demure smiles.

            "Get on back then -

save some of them chips, I'm gonna come over when my nephews are born."

            Andrew laughed. "Hope

they ain't too stale for ya."

            "Eh!" Stephen

said dismissively, plopping back in his seat. "That's true, never know

with that organic shit - good for me or,

whatever."

            Andrew nodded - not wishing

for this to drag on any longer he smiled at his brother and, that bad of chips

in hand, waved at him goodbye, starting his way out.

            "Love you,

Stevie."

            "Love you,

Drewseph," Stephen said back, matching his brother's tone.

            It was a short walk outside

but Andrew could not help but look over his shoulder and see him, watch him,

his ward, his brother, younger and smaller and weaker and more unstable and so

unlike him, so totally unlike who he was growing up and what he had grown up

into - he saw him pick up his phone and hold it out, taking a selfie, probably

a Snapchat to people at his college across the bridge in Saint Pete he openly

admitted not even giving a shit about.

            He kept looking over his

shoulder, a repeated action, seeing his brother, small already, become smaller

as he paced away, smaller and then smaller again, swallowed by the buzzing

crowd of people in the restaurant...

            ...Andrew didn't like it,

didn't like seeing his brother fade into other faces and other bodies, didn't

like watching the image diminish until it was nothing - it made him anxious,

actually anxious, and he did not know why.

            Then he was outside and the

balmy Tampa breeze was upon him again, the Sun shining right in his face and

once more the bill of Bligh's cap did little to help him - he had to squint all

the way back to his car.

            He realized what he didn't

like about it as he read the text from Bligh with one hand - ok u did not need 2 but see u soon

tell  stevie i love him love u too -

turning the key in the ignition with the other.

            He texted back:

            Okay, I'm on my way. Love you.

            He was passing out of the

real world, the world he had, mere months ago, thought he knew, back into the

masquerade, back into the hills and hollers of West Virginia through the

microcosm of a large one bedroom apartment in Rocky Creek, Florida - he was

becoming himself, again, having too briefly tasted, what it was like to be

basically normal, having lunch with his brother at Chipotle.

            Andrew put his Grand

Wagoneer into drive, the bag of chips in the passenger seat, and he maneuvered

through the parking lot and came to the stoplight, all the while that image -

his brother, so small and getting smaller, taking a selfie with his sunglasses

still on indoors - taking on a significance, a significance he did not want to acknowledge.