Setting: ATF Universe
Page 23
By the time Buck settled him into a chair at the end of the table, Vin was spent. He used the next several minutes just breathing and getting his heart to calm down. Someone put a beer in front of him and someone else deposited a full plate of food. Utencils and napkins appeared, and as with the other offerings, each was completed with a pat on the back. He raised his head and drank in the wonderful site before him. The laughter and relaxed faces of his friends was perhaps the best medicine. They'd accepted him, spastic emotions and all.
The food was good, the steak rare and sassy, just how he liked it; even the vegtables went down easy, green ones included. This feat earned him much elbowing, Ezra even got a camera and took a shot of him with salad in one fork and broccoli on another. Ezra took lots of shots, several with a self timer. The dishes were cleared and Nathan produced fixings for an ice cream sundae bar. Two helpings later, the sated Texan Buddha rested, his folded hands spanning firm flesh over the once ribbed skin.
Nathan elbowed Chris and pointed to the contented cow with a spoon. The others soon wore the same dopey grin, having feasted on the sight. Vin's eyes were closed, he was breathing through a slight parting in his chocolate and caramel coated lips. Buck tiptoed behind him, J.D. and Ezra it tow.
"He fall asleep again?" Buck asked.
"Can't take him anywhere," Ezra mused.
"Downright embarrassing!" J.D. vented, grinning at the face below screwed up in distaste.
"Damn, would you look at that," Buck crowed, bending over Vin from behind and grabbing the tiny bit of flesh finally building up. "The boy's got fat growing..."
"Shut the hell up, Buck!" Vin growled, peeling an eye open and slapping the arms that grabbed at him! "Fuck off..."
"That's another dollar you owe to the pool!" J.D. announced of the bet Vin lost every day. Each of them challenged him to go without using his favorite profanity, with a single dollar donated for every colorful word. At the end of their stay, the money would go to the local animal shelter.
"I saw that Vin!" Buck called out, catching the solo-fingered response from the corner of his eye. "That's another dollar..."
"That's cheatin'!" Vin protested, "I didn't say a fuckin' thing... I was scratchin' m'chest..."
"Ding!" Nate laughed, drawing another talley in the air and laughing harder when Vin realized he'd been had again and his face turned red.
Buck responded by ruffling the younger man's hair, something he knew would set the short fuse off. "Quit pawin' me, I ain't yer fuckin' dog!" Vin ducked from the large hand and then heard them all laughing as his miscue.
"Sorry, Slick, couldn't help myself," Buck apologized, "You're just so damn cute when you get riled up."
"Vin..." Chris warned with a grin and a wagging finger, watching the 'f' bomb ready to explode again. They continued to laugh as the disgruntled man slumped in his chair.
"Nothing personal, Vin, but it takes a special cut of man to wear a mustache," Buck added, handing Vin a wet napkin, "and you just ain't it..."
"Huh?" Vin frowned, wiping his lip. "Aw, hell..."
Much later, darkness descended and the others went inside. They large table was moved to one side of the massive porch and chairs and chaises were scattered about. Vin was resting in a chaise, watching the stars wink at him. The sound of the surf was restful and calming, he'd nodded off several times. He turned at the footsteps on the stairs and Buck appeared, bearing a large plastic bag.
"Ya got a present!" Vin sat forward, eyes lighting up. "...fer me?"
"Hell no!" Buck chuckled, dropping on a large chair next to the drowsy recoveree. He pulled out a guitar and wore a smile from a long time before.
"Where'd ya get that?" Vin asked, smiling at the wistful expression the other wore.
"I used to have one just like this in college," Buck recalled with fondness, stroking the wood and caressing the strings with nimble fingers.
"I can see that," Vin laughed, wagging a suggestive eyebrow, "Looks like ya practiced more that one kinda move on there..."
"Practice?" Buck chortled, "Hell, Son, I'm a Wilmington, we're born ready, no instructions needed!" He cocked his head and realized how good it felt to hear Vin laugh again. "I was takin' a walk around town and spotted this in a thrift store window. Got any requests? No charge..."
"Well," Vin mused, rubbing his chin, "There is a song I heard on the radio this mornin', sorta one that I like, Can't seem t'get it outta m'head. Reckon ya might know it, it's from the dinosaur days." He paused and watched with amusement as Buck gave him a mock-angry look, "The Boxer?" he asked softly and saw the older man's face light up.
"Oh yeah," Buck's voice dropped as his head nodded and his eyes lit up. The Simon and Garfunkel classic was a favorite of his. His deft fingers strummed the chords and he rocked in time, giving a full chorus and nodding for Vin to start.
"Hey!" J.D. protested as the sound suddenly disappeared from the movie he had on, "I'm watching that..."
"Perhaps you should be watching this instead," Ezra pointed to the window and tossed the VCR remote on the sofa. The five silently crept outside, just as Vin began to sing. Buck looked up and kept a straight face, not wanting to disturb the soft, soulful rendition that Vin was pulling from deep within somewhere. They were all behind him and he had no idea he had an audience.
I am just a poor boy, though m'story's seldom told,
I have squandered m'resistance fer a pocket full o'mumbles, Such are promises.
All lies and jests,still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.
Vin smiled as the familiar humming following the first verse. The breeze lifted his hair and he felt so totally and completely at ease; more comfortable and relaxed than he had in months.
"When I left m'home and m'family, I was no more than a boy.
In the company o'strangers, in the quiet o'the railway station,
runnin' scared, layin'low, seekin' out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go...lookin' fer the places only they would know..."
Buck joined in at the chorus, then as Vin took his mug up and began to sip his beer, he nodded for the amateur singer to do the next verse. Buck wasn't shy and jumped right in, his talented voice filling the night air.
"Asking only workman's wages I come looking for a job, but I get no offers.
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue.
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome I took some comfort there. Hmm...hmm...hmm..."
Buck lifted his face and Vin's sweet voice joined in, the 'lie-la-lie' chorus blending perfectly. They finished the tune in a harmony, born of weeks wrought with tension and fear. It felt good...damn good and they put that emotion into the finale.
"In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade.
And he carries the reminders of ev'ry glove that laid him down and cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame,
"I am leaving, I am leaving." But the fighter still remains Lie la lie.........."
"Yeah!" Buck hooted with a final strum and clapped the side of Vin's leg. The younger man jumped and his grin increased when the quintet behind him broke into applause and cat calls.
"Encore!" J.D. called out, as they piled into chairs around the duo.
"You take requests?" Nate asked, watching Chris move back into the house. He knew the blond saw the same thing he did, Vin was only in a short-sleeved tee shirt and he was shivering in the cool night air.
"Here," Chris tossed his black demin jacket at the younger man, dismissing the amused looks he was getting. "What?" He grumbled at the group. "I'm just looking out for number one," he tapped his chest. "I don't want to lose any more sleep over that damn coughing."
"Yeah, right!" J.D. denied.
"You'll make a fine mother one day, Mr. Larabee," Ezra complimented.
"Oh, you'd be surprised how many people already call him 'mother'," Buck teased, with a wink to his oldest friend.
"Damn!" Vin growled, sitting up and putting the jacket on. "I got m'bad ass coat on... gonna kick some serious ass now!" he gloated, rocking side to side and gaining a burst of laughs. He felt something bulky in the pocket and fished a hand in. "What the hell is this?" He frowned, then gave his best friend a shocked, wide-eyed stare. "Rubbers? Jesus, Chris, I didn't know they made 'em this big..."
"Jealous?" Chris oozed, grinning boldly at the laughing sharpshooter who pulled out a pair of very expensive sunglasses.
"Damn!" Vin crowed popping them on and flipping the collar of the jacket straight up. "Watch out... y'all better step the hell back!" he warned.
"Vin, be careful with those!" the blond warned, "there not the cheap shit you but at the dollar store..."
"What are you wearing them for?" J.D. frowned, "It's night time."
"'pearences is everythin'," Vin chirped, "Ain't that right, Ez?"
"I'm glad to see my influence is rubbing off," the Southerner returned with a sly grin.
"Hey, I know the perfect song for those," Buck moved over, eyes dancing in mischief as he plucked the glasses from Vin's nose. "Nate... I'm gonna need your help... " he motioned and whispered in the black man's ear. The others saw the EMT nod and grin widely.
"Tailor-made," Jackson agreed, "Hand-in-glove..."
"This one's for you, Stud," Buck wagged his eyebrows at his oldest friend and grinned like a lunatic. "Nate... the glasses..."
"Oh, sorry," the other half of the duet apologized and grabbed a discarded pair of glasses lying nearby. Popping them on, he sat next to Buck, who was sporting the expensive Larabee shades.
"Just like Sonny and Cher," Vin decided.
"Or Chad and Jeremy," Josiah said.
"Who?" J.D. and Vin asked simultaneously, wearing idenical wrinkled up faces. Chris had the misfortune of having a mouthful of beer at the time and it shot out of his mouth, just ahead of the coughing laughter fit.
"You okay there, Boss?" Josiah grinned, clapping Chris's back. He waited until he got a nod and returned to his seat. "Damn wise-assed younguns'..." he mumbled of the team's youngest.
"Ready Nate?" Buck asked, and saw the dark head nod, "Okay, some of you might know the title of this song, but the real title was the Larabee Blues. I'll take the first verse Nate, then you pick it up..." Buck began to play.
"Aw, hell," Vin complained, recognizing the song, one of his favorites. "I wish I had my mouth organ..."
"That's a real loss for mankind," Chris quipped and got an irate blue glare.
"Immeasurable," Ezra agreed.
"We'd attract stray dogs if nothing else," J.D. added.
"Fuck off, all o'yall..." Vin defended, "I ain't s'bad..." he growled, heaving pretzel nubs at all three of them.
"Compared to what dying breed of mammal?" Ezra ducked, "You owe two more dollars..."
"Two?" Vin bristled. "What are ya tryin' t'pull?"
"It's after eight p.m. and the charges double," Chris reminded him. "et..et..ah..." He warned, cocking his head as the Texan's lips began to form a word.
"Are you girls done squabblin'?" Nate asked, then elbowed his partner to begin.
"There is a house in New Orleans, they call the Rising Sun.
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy and God I know I'm one..."
Buck's voice was never better as it imitated Eric Burden's classic. But it was Nate who brought the house down...
"My mother was a tailor. She sewed my new bluejeans.
My father was a gamblin' man down in New Orleans.
Now the only thing a gambler needs, is a suitcase and trunk
And the only time he's satisfied, is when he's on a drunk."
"Damn!" Vin called out, clapping and whistling in appreciation of the dark-skinned agent's soulful rendering.
"Go Nate!" J.D. echoed.
"Impressive, extraordinary..." Ezra agreed.
"Not bad," Buck mumbled, getting a sharp elbow in the ribs from his 'partner'.
"Could you spare it Buck?" He asked, before they both broke into the chorus of "House of the Rising Sun."
"Oh mother tell your children, not to do what I have done.
Spend your lives in sin and misery, in the House of the Rising Sun."
Buck broke off and let Nate take the next verse, closing it out.
"Well, I got one foot on the platform.
The other foot on the train.
I'm goin' back to New Orleans to wear that ball and chain ."
He belted out, then stood and did a sweeping bow amidst the whistles.
"Damn Nate," Vin gushed, "I didn't know ya could sing like that. Yer good..."
"You would be too if you had something as fine as Rain slidin' up next to you every night." Buck decided. "Hell, that woman could make the blind see..." He thought of the couple and another song that Nate liked, came to mind. "Hey Nate...I got one for you."
Buck began to strum again, recalling a favorite old song of Nathan's. As soon as the notes began to form, the souleyed agent moved back near Buck and joined him for the Marvin Gaye classic "What's Goin' On?"; Josiah joined them for a medley of CCR hits. Buck frowned and motioned with his hand, silencing them and letting the boppin' headed Texan sing alone.
"Poor Pa brangs his women out and his cows too...
Willy goes into a dance...devils on his shoes..."
"Jesus!" Buck roared, causing the now red-faced soloist to jump, "Ace, check for blood!" he lamented, pulling his shirt up and exposing the sexy chest.
"Amazingly, your heart is still intact," Ezra grinned, clapping Buck's shoulder.
"What?" Vin frowned, wrinkling his nose.
"Poor Pa brangs his women out and his cows too?" Buck's voice in incredulation and then he laughed. "How can you massacre that brilliant piece of art? You should get locked up for that. Hell, that's a felony... rapin' a Creedence song... My God, Vin!"
"Well, hell," Vin defended, "Ya ever hear how he sings? Y'all make fun o'the way I talk..."
"He's was born in a bayou," Buck defended of John Fogerty, the forming member of CCR. "Nate fill him in..."
"...Poorboy twangs the rhythm out on his kalamazoo.
Willy goes into a dance and doubles on kazoo."
Nate sang.
"I like mine better," Vin decided smugly, with a false voice. "...and gimme m'damn glasses back!" He grabbed the shades from Buck and placed them on his face.
"What do you mean your glasses?" Chris inquired, realizing he'd worn them for the last time. Tanner wasn't about to part with them.
"Figures, is all," Vin returned to the green stare.
"Figures how?" Chris asked, never sure where Vin's logic went.
"Well, they look better on me," the Texan tossed back cockily.
"Says who?" Chris tried not to grin.
"Anybody with breasts under fifty," Vin shocked the blond, who collapsed in laughter.
"You slay me, Cowboy," Chris said, shaking his fair hair in surrender.
"Told ya..." Vin sat back in the chaise as J.D. plugged a radio into the outlet near the door. A station playing hits from the late sixties to nineties was found and before long, giving the amateurs hours of much needed relief.
The morning slipped away effortlessly and the solitary figure on the deserted stretch of beach sighed. Halfway through the five week emotional restoration, he needed to get away from the noise and close quarters. They were his closest friends, but he needed some quiet time, alone, to contemplate his life... his future. A big part of that would be coming in less than a week, when he was spending the last ten days of his suspension, far across the Atlantic.
He shifted on the sandchair, which rested on a large blanket. Next to him was a small softside cooler with water, soda, and fruit. The newspaper and magazine were already read and folded for transport back to the house. He laid back and let the warm sun bake his skin, feeling the rays penetrate deeply. He thought about his future again and what role this special lady who occupied his thoughts so very much, would have. When he was with her, his heart sang; when she wasn't near, he ached for her. Just the image of her beautiful face, those glorious large emerald eyes and the cap of black curls brought a huge grin.
"Come home with me, Darlin' Buck," she'd said as she laid in his arms a few nights before, "let me show ye me Ireland. She's a terrible beauty..Give me yer hand and I'll show ye her magic."
It was tempting, Mollie had family business in County Mayo, a wedding of a cousin. But the remaining nine days were theirs to explore the lovely land and each other. She'd taken him by storm and he'd never felt such a passion in his life. A loud, angry argument caused him to sit up and take his glasses off. Several yards away, just off the beach, near the top to the wooden steps, were two dogs. One was huge, a shepard mix and the other a small, tan terrier. They appeared to be fighting over something. The large dog kept grabbing it, but the smaller won't wouldn't let go. As a result, his wiry body was being tossed around, hard against the steps.
He got off his chair and approached, rolling the newspaper up. The object in question was a large bone, with remnants of meat attached to it. He eyed the nearby steakhouse and the large trash bin outside.
"Hey get out of there..." Buck hollered, stomping his foot. "Go on now..."
The large dog scampered off, and the smaller one, still barking, stood up and limped behind. His high pitched angry barks turned back at Buck. Apparently, he didn't see his size as a disadvantage and wanted to let this interfering human know how mad he was. He lunged at Buck, then turned his head to where the large dog disappeared to, making his intent known.
"Are you crazy?" Buck asked, grabbing the smaller dog's scruffy neck. "He could eat you for lunch. Ain't you got any sense?"
The dog continued to protest wildly, barking, growling and squirming in his arms. Finally, it nipped him lightly on the hand.
"To hell with you. If you don't know what's good for you..." Buck complained, dropping the hot-headed pooch. He shook his head and went back to his chair. He was dozing when something cold nudged his hand. He lifted his sunglasses and peered down. "Well, did you learn your lesson?" A short series of high pitched barks ensued and the dog jumped impatiently at his side. "What? You want me to follow you?" He asked and stood up, giving the tawny dog reason to bark at an even higher pitch and jump excitedly. "Alright, Lassie, let's go get Timmy out of the well," he sighed, following the anxious animal.
He didn't mind at first, but then the beach ended and he was on land, without his sandels and on hot asphalt. "Goddammit dog... I got patience to a limit. Where the hell is the fire?" Buck growled, watching the beguiling little face look back at him. He was a handsome little dog, a deep tawny color with expressive eyes, keen ears and a hint of whiskers. The tail wagged and disappeared into an alleyway. Finally the dog halted near a hole. "What?" Buck asked, wincing as the hot concrete ate his soles. He looked down the hole and laughed outloud, scratching the dog's head. "Well I'll be..." he said with admiration, eyeing the large steak bone that he'd originally fought over. He reached down and retrieved the bone, handing it to the sated dog. The head tilted up at him hinting at arrogance, and cocked sideways. Lifting his face, a short, self-satified bark was sounded.
Buck laughed again and eyed the cocky mutt. "You're too much. Next thing you know you'll be sproutin' blue eyes and barkin' with a drawl." He turned and walked back towards the beach, stopping long enough to get some hamburgers and a soda at the stand on the corner. By the time he got back to his blanket, the dog was stretched out on it, quite contented and chomping on his bone.
"Yo Tex..." he warned, "You best move your flea-bitten butt off my blanket."
Buck sat down and opened his bag, trying not to notice the large, bayful eyes staring at him. He took a bite, swallowed it with a gulp of soda and heard a small, gutteral cry. He took another bite and another cry sounded. "Did I ask to eat your lunch?" he inquired, glaring at the cute mutt. The dog's head dropped sadly and he limped away, settling sorrowfully on the very end of the blanket, licking one foot.
"Aw, hell..." Buck muttered, eyeing the soulful little body. "I told you not to tangle with that dog. You ain't big enough..."
The dog turned sharply and barked at him, not hiding his displeasure. As if to rub salt in the wound, he limped over and grabbed his bone. Holding his nose high in the air, he limped back to the spot on the end of the blanket. By the time he settled, Buck was laughing outright.
"Okay, I guess I deserved that," he chuckled, breaking the half-eaten hamburger into small pieces. "Come on over... I got plenty," he invited. The dogged limped over, nudging his bone towards Buck, who smiled and scratched the soft,tan fur. "Thanks, but I'll pass. Go on now..." he handed the small pieces of food to the hungry dog and laughed again when the pickle was spit back at him. "Vin don't 'em either..." he noticed the favored front paw and eyed the guarded spot. "You want me to have a look? I won't hurt you."
The dog moved closer, lifting it's one paw for his new friend to inspect. Buck eyed the small cut and grabbed an ice cube from his soda. He patted the ground and the dog dropped down, resting his head on Buck's leg. Buck held the ice cube over the cut, until it melted. "Okay, that feel better? You sure are a gutsy little thing."
Buck finished his lunch and the dog was snoozing by his side, when all of a sudden the head flew up. He gave a strange growl and cocked his face towards the water.
"What?" Buck asked, eyeing the shoreline. Several yards away was a gorgeous Llapso Apso , complete with red ribbons on her ears. "You're out of your mind." Buck laughed, scratching the terrier's neck. "You can't afford that piece of tail. Her haircuts cost more than mine." Buck advised, but the brazen dog wouldn't be denied and with a cocky look back at his new friend, he trotted off. "Dog's got more guts than brains," he muttered, watching the lean, tan mutt approach the snooty pedigree. Sure enough, the owner shooed the dog away. He persisted for a few paces, until the man walking the dog kicked him.
"Hey!" Buck roared, standing up. "Cut that out. He wasn't hurtin' her. What's the matter with you? You don't kick a dog." He warned, as the man strode off. He looked down as his four-footed, smitten friend and crouched down, scratching his head. "I told you... them society dames are no good."
The dog looked at him and sneezed, wet and plentiful.
"Thanks," Buck grimaced, washing his hand in the surf. "Dog snots... charming."
He gathered up his blanket, book, and other stuff and headed back to the house. The dog trotted beside him, keeping pace, lugging his bone. Josiah and Ezra were playing cards on the porch when he arrived. J.D. was lounging in a chaise, a sports magazine draped over his chest. The scent of charcoal was in the air and Buck noted the tray nearby.
"We're having pork roast." J.D. exclaimed. "...it's marinating in teryaki and... hey!" he sat up, his hazel eyes large and lite up."You got a dog!"
"As long as you're up," Buck said, dropping into a chair, "Get Tex some water."
"Tex?" Josiah eyed the handsome, tawny dog. "You named him after Vin?"
"You had to be there..." Buck muttered, watching the dog eyeing Ezra strangely.
"Why is that animal staring at me like that?" the southerner demanded as the animal stalked him, growling, crouching low and crawling over to him. "Your mental state leaves a lot to be desired. That animal could have rabies..."
"So could you and we keep you around," J.D. chided, sitting a bowl of water on the ground. "Besides, he's clean, his nails are trimmed, his eyes are clear, he's real friendly and he has a collar.." J.D. examined the blue disc hanging from the end. "Rabies shots... this year. There's a local phone number for a humane shelter. We can take a ride over and check on his history."
The dog began to growl and sniff Ezra's pocket.
"Ezra, what do you have hidden in your pocket?" Josiah inquired, eyeing the dog's actions.
"Am I to understand that you are taking the word of that beast over me?" Ezra pleaded as a nose disappeared in his windbreaker's pocket. "Cease and desist..." he ordered too late.
"I'll be damned." Buck praised. "Good boy Tex!"
"How'd he do that?" J.D. exclaimed, smacking his lips and calling the dog over. The mutt dutifully trotted to J.D. and deposited a queen of spades into the youth's hand. "Good Boy! Hey we can take him on David Letterman."
"He's got one stop first," Buck said, walking to the door. He opened the door and the dog trotted in. "Go on..." he pointed to the sleeping figure on the couch. The four-footed detective trotted over and walked along side Vin, sniffing carefully. He sniffed from the bare leg, past the khaki shorts and blue tee shirt up to the fine features, relaxed in slumber.
Chris sat up in his chair, tossing the paper aside. "Buck, what's that dog doing in here?"
"He's not just any dog," J.D. bragged, showing Chris the card, "He knew Ezra was cheatin', he pulled the card right out of his pocket.
"I was not cheating." Ezra huffed, "It was an oversight."
"Isn't that what the Captain of the Titantic said about the iceberg?" Josiah goaded, tapping Ezra in the ribs.
Meanwhile, the dog jumped on the bottom of the sofa and crawled upwards, nestling comfortably against Vin. He began to lick Vin's neck, chin and lips, causing the still sleeping man to smile.
"Not now, Caitlin," he sighed, still smiling at the tongue bath. "...we ain't got time... I gotta get back to m'desk."
"Caitlin?" Ezra crossed his brows.
"THE Caitlin?" J.D. amazed of the volumptuous beauty from the Federal Building back home. "... from the Office of Counsel?"
"Damn," Buck gloated, "that sly fox... he's been seeing that pretty redhead?"
"Whaddya want fer lunch?" Vin sighed again, still lost in slumber. Then he laughed low and sultry, under his breath, raising his eyebrows. His skin flushed and gave all his friends a good laugh. The canine was resting against Vin, still licking his lips, chin and face.
"Good Lord, he even blushes in his sleep," Ezra shook his head in amusement.
"Vultures," Chris dismissed, limping over to the sofa and sitting on the coffee table beside it. The dog turned and looked at him hard, before moving in front of Vin. When Chris moved his hand over to wake his dreaming friend, the dog growled. The dark eyes grew hard and the fur on his neck stood up.
Chris kept his hand where it was and stared hard at the dog, who never moved.
"Looks like you met your match, Pard." Buck laughed at the standoff.
Chris chuckled at the dog's protective stance and relented. "Truce?" he offered his open palm and snapped his fingers. The dog regarded him for a moment, tilting his nose and sniffing the hand and the body. Finally satisified, he lifted his paw and they shook on it. The dog then sneezed all over Chris's hand. "Nice..." he wrinkled his nose, wiping the moisture on his shirt.
"Sorry about that, I meant to warn you." Buck grinned. "Hey Slick..."
"What's goin' on..." Vin croaked, eyeing the grinning faces around him. His eyes shifted sideways and he remembered the vivid dream. He swiped a hand over his face and groaned. One blue eye peeked out of his disjointed fingers, finding Chris.
"I give away the store?" he rasped and saw the evil grin Chris wore and the head nodding.
"Right up to the cash register," the blond replied and smiled broadly at the groan Vin left out.
"Hey... hey, a dog," Vin chirped, sitting up and laughing as the dog covered his face with kisses. The mutt pressed his paws into Vin's shoulders and continued his demonstrative greeting, complete with wagging tail and excited yelps. "Cut that out... yer breath smells. Hey fella... hey there..." Vin scrubbed the dog's back and neck, then the ears. Two loud wet sneezes drew the Texan's body up further.
"Aw, hell... " Vin spat his tongue out. "Right in my mouth..."
"Not as good as Caitlin, Vin?" J.D. teased and laughed as the color rose on his friend's face.
"He ain't any ID," Vin checked out the blue collar, "...got his shots... Ya hungry fella?"
"I gave him a hamburger at the beach," Buck answered, "Vin, before you get too attached, you should find out if he belongs to anyone."
"Yeah," Vin said, "Ya know this place?" he read the tag.
"I'll find out," J.D. answered, moving to the phone. Vin followed him, sitting on the floor near the frig and pulling out lunch meat. The happy dog stood next to him, his head hovering on the bottom shelf.
"Vin, get that animal's head out of there!" Chris dictated.
"We're havin' a snack," Vin argued, holding a rolled up piece of ham in his mouth. The dog moved in and bit off the end. "Look how smart he is..."
"Yeah, he's a real Rin Tin Tin, now move out of there," Chris swatted Vin's leg with his sneaker.
"Ye'll get used t'him, fella," Vin apologized, standing up and closing the refrigerator. "...he gets cranky sometimes." He ducked as the Larabee hand flew at his retreating back. "Kid?"
he asked, watching J.D. writing on a tablet. The youth held a finger up and Vin waited, holding his new little friend. The dog nuzzled the blue-eyed one's neck, licking behind his ear.
Buck leaned in the doorway of the entrance to the house and smiled. It was good to see the Vin he knew emerging again. Gone was the gray-pallored figure who came out of the hospital. The first half of the R and R had seen Vin gain some weight back, although he was still a few pounds down. He was tanned and healthy looking again. Other than the lingering cough, and occasional outbursts of emotion, he was healing.
"Okay," J.D. nodded, "Thanks, we'll come over before seven."
"Well!" Vin asked.
"Good news." J.D. grinned as the dog licked his hand. "He was dropped off there a week ago. The owner died and the next door neighbor left him at the shelter. He's up to date on shots, he's two years old and trained. The vet said if we go over there before they close and fill out the forms, you can have him. You need a vet's reference, I gave Chris's, they know you from taking care of Sam." The youth noted of Larabee's Lab.
"Thanks J.D.!" Vin grinned, then stood the dog on the kitchen table. "Hear that fella... yer family now. Yes ya are... yer a little Tanner. Damn!" His eyes lit up and his grin was youthful and infectious.
"Come on, Vin, let's get to the shelter. Then we can hit the store and get him some food and toys and stuff."
"Okay," Vin dropped the pooch on the floor, "He needs a leash and some rawhide chews. Don't want his teeth t'fall out." He grinned as the dog greeted Nate and Josiah warmly, lifting his head for a rub. Then Ezra approached and the brown eyes narrowed and the fur stood up. A low growl ensued, causing Vin to move in. "Hey, cut that out, that ain't nice, that's yer Uncle Ezra, he's okay, iffen ya can understand what the hell he's sayin'"
"Uncle Ezra?" the southerner stiffened. "I think not. Please remove that flea-ridden creature from my feet."
"See, he's crazy about ya," Vin lifted the cute pooch and held it's paw out to the green-eyed agent."Go on, now, shake hands... we'll see Uncle Ez later."
"Go on, Ez, your hurtin' his feelings," Nate goaded, watching the dog's sad eyes play on Ezra's face.
"Yeah, Ezra," J.D. added, "You heard what I said, he lost his owner, he's probably still grieving."
"Not as much as I am," Ezra wrinkled his nose and took the small paw, "My regards to the inmates," he noted and sneezed.
"Aw, hell, Ez," Vin snarled, pulling his dog away, "Don't be sneezin' at 'im, ye'll give 'im somethin'"
"ME!" Ezra's voice rose, and he pointed a finger at the mutt, contentedly snuggled in Vin's arms. "This morning that animal was eating out of trash cans and sleeping in a gutter..."
"Snob!" Vin sassed, turning and following J.D. to the door. "Uncle Ez didn't mean that... he ain't had his afternoon brandy yet..." the Texan soothed the dog.
Chris and Buck exchanged a grin behind Vin's back. It was if Fate dropped the friendly little four-footed angel in their laps. Vin, J.D. and the dog disappeared down the stairs. The two friends stood by the window as the car pulled away.
A gentle breeze danced through the room, causing the curtains to lift and flutter. But it wasn't that movement that caused the tan dog to stir. He lifted his head from where it rested on the slumbering man's chest and his ears perked up. The intelligent pooch's head cocked left and right as the man beneath him began to moan. This movement and noise caused him to become unsettled from his comfortable roost. He nudged the limp hand and gave a small cry, but the man never responded. He stood and moved closer, licking the stilled face, hoping to stop the muffled cries.
It was dark and cold and fear gripped his chest. He was lying on a hard surface, the icy metal bit into his tender flesh. He heard movement and blinked as the lights came on, revealing a woman's calculating face. But it wasn't just the evil reflected in her eyes, it was the horrid creature she held with prongs. Red and ugly, thousands of legs moving and two large pinchers with razor sharp edges. The creature was placed on his chest and he heard her words... where was Chris... Chris... Chris.
The dog was frantic, the man wouldn't wake up. He began to bark and tug at the cotton sleeve of the shirt. That didn't work. He cocked his head and listened attentively. Seeing a small opening in the sliding door, he made his decision. He nudged the quiet face once more and after two licks and a sharp bark, he began his mission.
The room changed and Vin tossed fitfully as the coldness turned into blistering heat. His skin was on fire and he was in pain. He was moving. He heard a deep laughter, evil and sinister. A man's voice. Hands on his body, shoving him down into... into water. He was choking, the hand held his head under the water, then released it, laughing cruelly as he sputtered and choked. Barely drawing a breath, he was plunged under again and turned. The hands used a rough cloth and manhandled him horridly. Vin tried to fight back, struggling weakly against his invisible opponent.
It was the end of another glorious day in paradise. Josiah and Nate were readying the grills for dinner, J.D. was helping Chris with some maps for a surprise for Vin. Buck was walking from the car, making his way back to the house. Ezra shifted in his chair, placing the novel he was reading on his chest. The others were down on the beach below, he preferred the comfort of the wooden deck. The distinct sound of many nails tapping against a hard surface drew his attention. A series of shrill barks preceded the tan, flying bundle of fur. The barking dog ran past him, eyeing the figures below, then turning back, addressing his pent up fury.
"Back from another successful raid on the trashcans in town?" Ezra inquired, wrinkling his brow at the irate little barker. "Why must you torture me?" he turned back to his book, only to have his ankle nipped. "You have a choice, cease and desist immediately or I shall deposit you back at the..." he stopped when the terrier's cries changed in tone. Something was wrong. He glanced at the house and realized all the bodies were below. "Vin?" At the sound of the name, the dog's high pitched barks grew to a fever pitch. "VIN!" he hollered below and saw Josiah and J.D. both move. "Go... go..." he ordered the little dog, opening the door.
As the strong hands continued to brutalize him, Vin's head was once again pulled from the water. He blinked through the rush of air and saw a face leering at him. He couldn't hear the words; he didn't have to. He knew whose hands were responsible. Tony Kennedy was the body who the hands were attached to. With his last resolve, he fought back, striking out with all his might.
Ezra flew down the hall and into the bedroom where Vin had gone for his afternoon nap. He saw the sweat covering the thin sharpshooter. His frantic movements and muffled cries told the Southerner he was lost in a nightmare. He moved to the bed and sat next to the lost soul, gripping his shoulders.
"Vin, wake up," he ordered and frown when the horrid gasping began. "VIN!" he called louder, tapping the wet cheek. Two eyes shot open, wide and blue at the same time the fist flew up, clipping his mouth. "No, Vin..." he muffled through his split lip. "Calm down..."
"I'll kill ya," Vin hissed, lashing out at Kennedy again."Ya fuckin' bastard... keep yer filthy hands offa me... I'll cut yer nuts off and shove him up yer ass..."
"Thank God you're on my side," Ezra winced at the words and pinned Vin's arms to the bed. But the leg shot over and knocked him off the bed. Vin pounced on him, raising a fist. Ezra saw the lost, glazed eyes and knew Vin wasn't awake yet.
"Vin!" Buck cried out, reaching the doorway the same time as J.D. He was about to move in, when Ezra's defensive hand motion stopped him. The conman was on the floor with Tanner straddling him. Buck saw the bloody lip and then saw Vin's face. "Shit... he's havin' one of them damn dreams..." Ignoring Ezra, Buck moved in and grabbed Vin, which didn't suit the smaller man.
"No... no... dammit let me go..." Vin gasped, fighting against... against... he looked up and saw a mustache. "Buck! He's gettin' away..."
"No, Vin, you were dreaming," Buck said firmly.
"No... he's... no..." Vin blinked, his fist wavering. His damp head moved around the room. He blinked again as sweat ran into his eyes. The room began to change, confusing him again. He gripped the collar of Tony Kennedy in one hand and tried to strike, but his fist wouldn't move.
"Easy, Slick," Buck soothed, moving Vin onto the bed. He stood in front on him, pushing him back when he tried to rise.
"No... Kennedy's here... the tub... I couldn't breathe... kept shovin' m'head under... his hands was everywhere... he... he..." Vin stopped, his oxygen was running low. He tilted his head up and found Buck's eyes. "He hurt me, Bucklin..."
"I know he did Vin," Buck's wounded voice trembled, "and I'm sorry." The tall man felt Vin sag and saw clarity in his muddled eyes. The blue eyes roamed around the room and settled on the figure on the floor. He saw the bloodied lip as Ezra stood up and he hung his head . Buck gave his shoulder a pat as the others moved to enter. He shook his head and waved his hand, Vin didn't need an audience. Chris agreed and herded them out of the room. Buck looked at Ezra who nodded. "You okay?" He asked, tapping Vin's back. The shaggy head dipped once and Buck gripped his shoulder a single time, then moved outside to the balcony.
"...m'sorry Ez..." Vin mumbled, raking his trembling hand through his hair. He saw the other man swipe the blood from his lip and move to the bedstand. He lifted the tall container of ice water and handed it over. Vin took several long gulps, as his anger built up. Why were the dreams back? They were so vivid it stole his breath away. What if he had hurt Ezra worse? He shook his head and popped the pillow with his fist.
"Vin, look at me," Ezra used a steady voice and his eyes never left the irate Texan's. "That horrid beast is gone, I won't let him hurt you again."
"I'm so tired, Ez..." Vin admitted, "Body needs sleep t'get well... can't sleep right cause of the fuckin' dreams. How am I supposed t'fight what I can't touch?" he sighed heavily and shook his head. "I'm all wet..." he moved his hand over his damp shirt.
"I could have told you that," Ezra teased, but didn't get the smile he wanted. "Perhaps you'll feel better if you take a shower?"
"Yeah," Vin replied listlessly and shuffled to the chest of drawers. After withdrawing a few items, he disappeared into the hall.
Ezra poured some of the water out onto a tissue and pressed it to his lip. He moved outside and stood next to Buck, not missing the flickering guilt in the dark blue eyes.
"You being much too hard on yourself."
"Am I Ezra?" Buck leaned over the railing, using his elbows as leverage. He cast his eyes on the restless surf, feeling the power. "You tell me what he did to deserve that fuckin' animal hurtin' him like that. He's locked in prison and still torturing Vin."
"Perhaps it's time to unlock the doors of Vin's prison." Ezra replied thoughtfully.
"What do you mean?" Buck turned and asked.
"How much does he remember?"
"Uh, I don't know," Buck frowned, "Bits and pieces, I guess. Hell, it took all of his strength to fight that infection. The Major didn't think he was strong enough to fight the memory too. She said not to force it back, to let him find it."
"Maybe he needs someone to assist him on that journey."
Buck stared at Ezra for a long moment and felt his head nodding. "You're right, Ezra, this has gone on too long. We need to talk."
Vin dried himself off and put clean shorts and a tee shirt on. He heard a tap on the door as he buried his head under a towel.
"It's Chris, Vin..."
"...door's unlocked..."
Chris opened the door and let out the rising clouds of steam. He leaned against the jam and watched his friend studying the mirror again. What did Vin see in those luminous blue eyes? Horror or Healing?
"We need to talk," Chris finally said and saw Vin slowly turn towards him and nod. Chris shoved off and walked a few feet away, then waited until Vin fell into step with him. He felt the younger man hesitate briefly when they got to the large dining room table. The rest were seated, each with a platter in front of them. Vin's lingering glance burned a hole in the empty chair.
"It's not the witness stand," Chris said softly, "We're all here to help you." He saw Vin's head spin and stare hard at him. He knew the question and his lips turned up slightly. "Always, Cowboy," he whispered and saw the chest fall with a sigh of relief.
"I'm sorry," Vin said to the group. "and... and..." he took another deep breath, pulled his resolve together and met the eyes of his brothers. "...I need some help... I need t'fill the empty spots in... I need t'talk about it..."
"That's what we're here for Brother," Josiah said warmly, as Chris guided the shaken man closer to the chair.
Vin took the seat and several more breaths. Chris put a platter of food in front of him and J.D. bounced over with a bottle of beer. He nodded and took two bites of the cheeseburger, chewing it thoughtfully.
"Is it okay if I start Vin?" Buck asked tentatively, "at the beginning... with Frank."
Vin's jaw froze mid-chew and for a fleeting moment, the image of the brave man who'd been Buck's first partner came into view. He swallowed his food and took a swig of beer, then nodded to Buck.
That's how it started, and they all helped, each adding their thoughts, anger and helplessness. The agony of the missing hours and the joyful triumph when Vin woke up. None of them realized how each needed to vent the pent up feelings. J.D. especially had a lot of suppressed anger to release and with Buck's hand on his shoulder, he got it all out. Dinner ended, dishes were collected and still the voices and gathering of smoldering anger rained down. Hours passed and every piece was filled in, even the most painful. But instead of tension and fear, Vin's chest swelled with pride and faith. The weight he'd carried all this time was gone. He knew, without being able to say why, that the horrid dreams were gone too. He saw Nate moving by with two mugs of coffee. He put one in front of Buck and sipped the other. The dark eyes regarded the rogue and then moved to the quiet sharpshooter. Nate smiled, noticing how over the course of the last several hours, Vin had unwittingly moved his chair closer to Chris.
"Well?" Nate said, feeling a need to bring some life to the fatigued faces around him.
"Well what?" Buck asked, stirring sugar into his coffee.
"Wasn't talkin' to you," Nate eyed Vin. "You gonna tell us?"
"Tell ya what?" Vin pursed his brows.
"Tell us if them famous Wilmington kisses live up to their 'living legend reputation'."
"It brought the dead back to life," Buck boomed, sitting up and winking at Vin. "I rest my case!" he added triumphantely, puffing his chest out dramatically.
The laughter exploded, hands slapped the table, bodies collapsed onto arms folded there. Winded, out-of-breath and painfully shedding tears that only convulsive laughter brings, they made a memory.
Buck stood and walked over to Vin, who was laughing so hard, tears streamed down his face. The gasping body began to cough and Buck leaned over, one hand on Vin's shoulder.
"You okay there, Slick," he asked mischievously, eyes twinkling, "'cause I'm all primed and ready. Just say the word.and these lips are ready for action."
"...stop..." Vin gasped, his coughing laughter took his breath away and black spots danced before his eyes, "...yer killin' me Buck..."
"Yeah," Buck wrinkled his nose, at the oxygen-deprived, red-faced Texan, whose face was wet with joy. He picked up a napkin and handed it to Vin. "Damn, you look like shit, Tanner," he grinned and waited.
"Fuck y'all Bucklin!" Vin coughed.
"That's another another dollar you owe," a voice reminded.
"Aw, shut up J.D.!" Vin lauched himself at the youth who was scrambling to get away. They ended up on the floor wrestling and the dog jumped in, making it a tag team match. One by one the bodies disappeared, heading for bed. It was two a.m and the two remaining soldiers stood guard, like that always had, and always would, side by side.
"You want a beer?" Buck asked and saw the blond nod.
"Thanks Buck," Chris said as the bottle appeared in front of him. He gazed at the profile moving past him and smiled. "Seems to me I don't say that enough."
"Oh, don't worry," Buck grinned, taking a long swig, "I'll remind you if you forget."
"You would, too!" Chris grinned, easing at the warmth that familiarity only brought. He thought on all the years, all the tears, all the laughter and the fears that they'd shared. One man was responsible. A man he both knew and respected. A man whose foresight was responsible for not only this special friend seated with him, but indirectly for the other five he called brother.
"To Frank Delassi," Chris said quietly, raising his bottle and tapping Buck's.
"I miss him, Chris," Buck said, peeling the label from the icy bottle.
"I know, Buck," Chris sighed, "But that's not what you're hiding."
"You're good," Buck praised, casting a small grin across the table.
"I'm guessin' it's a five-foot seven, green-eyed beauty with a beautiful brogue," Chris mused, seeing the smile again.
"She's asked me to go to Ireland for about ten days. She's got a family wedding next weekend. I'd like to go..."
"That was bothering you?"
"Yeah," Buck sighed, "I didn't want to leave, not until I was sure he was okay," he noted of Tanner. "But I didn't realize until tonight, I needed to be okay too. I needed to talk about it, I feel like... uh..."
"Horny?" Chris guessed and drank in the deep laugh.
"Hell no," Buck scratched his chest, "You're pretty cute for a blond, but you ain't got the right equipment."
"Mary don't think so," Chris added boldy, "She's rather attached to my equipment."
"She's a desperate widow," Buck shot back. "...and your the rich rancher who lives outside town."
"Them's fightin' words, Pard!" Chris tossed back, joining in the warm laughter. "Rejuvenated?"
"Yeah, maybe... she's different, Chris, I never felt like this before. When I'm with her, I feel like the sun's bustin' inside my chest. When she's not here, I ache... really ache... to hold her."
"She's quite a lady, Buck," Chris complimented, seeing the doubt lingering "Go to Ireland, Buck and get lost in those green eyes. Take that girl's heart and keep it in her hollow of your hand."
Buck nodded and sat up, taking another swig of his beer. "Wait until I tell Vin you're spoutin' poetry." Buck chuckled, "You gettin' soft, Larabee."
Chris drained his brew and got a bold smile, "...shame the Taco twins aren't here," he said, waiting until Buck had a full mouthful. Sure enough, Buck spit beer all over the floor. His booming laughter filled the room. Chris couldn't help himself and laughed with him. There was something magical about the nostalgic memories of days gone by.
"We should have smuggled that shit home and sold it," Buck gasped, recalling the memory of a trip to Cancun shortly after the two were partnered. They'd gotten drunk one night and decided to go into town to eat. The only 'establishment' open was a bar with twin barmaids. The young and well-endowed beauties had given the drunken Americans more than tacos. Whatever was in the drink, had enabled their amorous entanglements to last until dawn. "We could have made a mint..."
"A lot of good that would have done us in jail."
"The money or the drug?" Buck teased, watching Chris grin lewdly again. "Hey, remember that redhead in Montreal? Damn, she was one hot piece of tail..."
"Don't remind me," Chris wrinkled his nose, "took me two days to get rid of that smell. Some fuckin' perfume that was. Jesus..."
"She's the only Russian I ever had..." Buck recalled.
"Russian?" Chris sat forward, "I don't think she was Russian. I don't know what the hell language that was, but I don't think it was Russian. Didn't seem to matter at the time..."
"That's because you were with the Master," Buck crowed, "I speak the universal language of love.."
"I'm gonna be sick," Chris groaned and grinned, "I still don't think that was Russian."
"Sure it was," Buck stood and stretched, "She sounded just like that whacko woman from Bullwinkle."
"Bullwinkle?" Chris wrinkled his face, "Jesus, Buck, you hanging around Vin and the Kid too much. Cartoons?"
"The classics are still the best," Buck stated, "We sure had us some fine times, Larabee," he tipped his bottle.
"Damn straight, Bucko," Chris voted, tapping the bottle back. "You ready to give all that up?"
He watched as Buck's smile faded for a moment, then one reappeared. It was a whole different face, full of wistfulness and longing. "Yeah... you got bitten bad... shot through the heart!" He saw Buck winning smile and made mental picture. He let the large man help him up and they made their way towards the bedrooms. He paused and tilted his head.
"What?" Buck asked, then watched a slow Larabee grin forming.
"It's got a nice ring to it," Chris said, extending his hand.
"What does?" Buck replied, taking the shake.
"Uncle Chris," the blond replied, sending his best wishes and emotions in his eyes. He saw Buck fill up and nod. For a flickering moment, they shared the same deep feeling. A vision of a dark-haired boy with blue eyes who idolized his Uncle Buck. Chris wanted to repay that, to hoist this special man's child in the air and see that Wilmington smile grin back at him.
"Thanks, Chris..." Buck choked, moved by both the memory and the friendship he shared.
"Buck," Chris deadpanned, watching the overemotive face. "One more thing..."
"Yeah?" Buck asked.
"Them twins said you couldn't kiss worth a damn..." Chris paused. "My Spanish wasn't great back then, but I understood their few words of English pretty good."
"You're full of shit, Larabee..."
"Nope, that wasn't it..." Chris replied seriously, heading for his bed. "...just two words... one said 'Buck' and the other one 'limp'. I thought they were talkin' about the way you walked."
For a moment there was silence and Chris slid out of his clothes and stood over his bed. Then his shorts were yanked back and a shower of ice descended.
"You're deadmeat, Buck..." Chris hissed, tugging at his shorts.
"Well, it looks like you're the expert there!" Buck grinned, wagged his eyebrows at the leader's discomfort and disappeared.
Several minutes went by and then quiet descended on the dark house. Then a voice broke through the stillness.
"Y'all done carryin' on? Some of us is near death's door and tryin' t'sleep. 'side m'tender ears ain't used t'such talk..."
They met in the hall, once again their history bespoke of their actions. They moved quietly into the room and worked in unison. One yanked the sheet back, the other dumped a tray of ice cubes down the back of the smug's Texan's briefs.
"Jesus!" Vin yelped, jumping up and falling out of bed. He eyed the snoozing bundle of fur still nestled within the sheets and snapped. "What the fuck kinda watchdog are ya? Goddammit Larabee, ya best watch yer back."
"That's another dollar..."
"Shut up J.D.!" Vin threw ice cubes across the room at his roommate. "I'm barely outta m'death bed..." Vin's protest was cut off quickly. Two bodies moved in and propelled him into the bed. A third shoved a tee shirt over his mouth. They waited until the tangling, fiesty set of limbs finally ran out of gas and quit moving.
"...be sorry..." Vin gasped, spitting out the shirt. "...y'all wait... I'm thinkin' on ways t'get even..."
"Don't hurt yourself, Vin." J.D. ducked as another handful of ice flew across the room.
Buck and Chris paused in the hall and high-fived, then each returned to bed. Finally, quiet prevailed and as the moon's silver face hovered above and the ocean sang a lullaby, they slept. A peaceful, restful slumbler, the healing kind.
Josiah shivered in the early morning breeze, eyeing the murky gray sky. Dark gray shot through with charcoal and dove gray skirting the fringes. Fat drops of rain fell and thunder boomed overhead. The large man cast a lingering gaze and headed back inside. He put the two bags on the kitchen table. He slipped his hands inside the one bag, drawing out the New York Times. He deposited the heavy periodical at the dining room table. At least one of them would have something to occupy his time on this dismal day. Movement behind him caused him to turn and he saw a raggedy blond figure stumble past. The leader looked rough.
"Here you go, Boss," he rumbled, "hot off the presses."
"Thanks, Josiah," the blond yawned, scratching the healing zone on the back of his leg. "Coffee?" he croaked, wincing at the harsh kitchen light.
"Comin' right up..." the eldest responded. In addition to the full pot of coffee, the chef of the day already prepared peach melba pancake batter, buttermilk pancake batter and all the fixin's for western and spanish omelettes. Fresh loaves of bread, another gallon of milk and a dozen doughnuts all sat waiting. Croissants and bagels were already standing at attention. He poured the coffee into a large thermal mug and carried back to the groggy but happy team leader. One thing he'd learned over the years was not to disturb the avid reader while he was digesting his favorite paper. But as the single working hand flipped the first section over, his head rose and his nose wrinkled.
"What's that smell?" Chris screwed his face up. He eyed the clock, which had yet to reach seven a.m. He followed Josiah's somber face and then the large hand lifted. The finger pointed into the living room. Chris stood and made his way through the dining area and turned to the left. He squinted and then covered his eyes with his hand, hoping he was hallucinating.
"Mornin'"
The loud, cheerful voice split his headache in half, bouncing off every part of his skull. Too many beers and shots with Buck in the wee hours. Neither one of them was twenty-one anymore. There on the floor with his back to the couch and the table pulled in towards his chest, sat his best friend. The blue eyes were riveted to the loud cartoon on the televison. One hand moved from the table to the open mouth. The object contained therein caused the blond's stomach to revolt. A large meatball parmesean sandwich dripping with melted mozzeralla was the reason for the happy smile plastered on Tanner's face. The chocolate mustache, courtesy of a bottle of Yoo Hoo, only made the leader's stomach flip over faster.
"Jesus..." Chris growled, face screwing up in disgust.
"Nope," Vin replied without looking up from the television. "Jonny Quest," he noted of the cartoon he was watching. "The Lord ain't up 'til eight or so... he's on a different network. I ain't never seen this one before... they's in the Bermuda Triangle and some Spanish gallon..."
"...Spanish galleon..." Chris corrected, his stomach starting to tremble.
"Oh, ya seen this one?"
"No... Vin... I..."
"...'cause I was wonderin' about somethin' Hadje did... hey ya know that Bandit ain't smart like y'all are..." he tore his attention from the screen to praise his loyal pup, who was sitting on the floor next to him, head resting on Vin's gray sweatpants. "Maybe I should take ya t'one o'them Hollywood animal trainers... put ya in the movies..."
"Vin!" Chris barked, causing the dog's head to fly up and his body to follow. He backpedalled, causing his owner to frown.
"Aw, hell, he ain't nothin' t'get yer balls twisted up about..." Vin patted his leg. "Ya ever heard that 'spession 'his bark is worse than his bite'," he asked the inquistive little face. "Well...the dude that wrote that...he done it fer Chris..."
"Vin!" Chris moved closer, eyeing the gray sweatshirt the slim man wore. "Is that my shirt?"
"...hell if I know..." Vin shrugged, lifting his monster-sized sandwich.
"It is!" Chris yelled, thwacking the back of the shaggy head. "It still has the damn tags on it..." he tugged at the paper discs hanging down from Vin's armpit. "Mary gave it to me in the hospital..."
"Don't recall," Vin shook his head, while attempting to lift his sandwich, "Musta been whislt I was hoverin' 'tween life and death..."
"Yeah," Chris grabbed the wrist and forced the sandwich back out of harm's way. "Well hover your thieving ass back to your room and get another shirt. I don't need greasy meatballs riding all over that one... I haven't even worn it yet!"
"Damn yer a crotchety old bastard in the mornin'..." Vin grumbled, ducking as the hand shot out, thwacking his head. He passed J.D., who was just rousing.
"Aw..." J.D.'s eyes shot open. "Why didn't anybody tell me we were ordering out. Is that a meatball sandwich? Look at all that cheese."
"Yers is in the oven, Kid..." Vin grinned, taking the shirt off and tossing it on Chris's bed.
"Thanks Vin..."
"Yer welcome," Vin countered, "Hey, Kid, get us another round..." he asked, and settled back down on the floor. The youngest joined him, sitting next to him, carrying his own large creation and two bottles of the chocolate beverage.
Ten minutes later, another body staggered through the room. He paused, one hand on his red-rimmed eyes, the other on his tender stomach. He squinted and rubbed his eyes again.
"I'm dreamin' right?" he croaked, eyeing the contented pair munching happily.
"Mornin' Stud," Chris grinned evilly, seeing Buck's face turn green.
"J.D. How can you eat that shit?" the rogue hissed painfully, "It's barely seven..."
"So?" a muffled reply came, the face never left the television.
Buck groaned and managed to make it to the table. Josiah put a cup of coffee in front of the queasy body.
"You're lookin' good," Chris chuckled of the green-gray face and two slits, "Your eyes look like two pissholes in the snow..." he teased as the face buried onto the arms on the table in front of him.
"We're gettin' old, Chris..." the painful voice floated up.
"Speak for yourself oldtimer..." the blond tossed back, flipping through the Stock Market report.
"Here you go, Buck," Josiah sat a large glass of cold orange juice in front of the living dead.
"Josiah," the grateful voice emerged as half the juice quickly disappeared, "...I'll dance at your wedding."
"Gotta wait until she turns eighteen first..." the preacher winked and disappeared into the kitchen.
"Chris," Buck's eyes were glued to the two youngest. Their profiles were identical, both jaws chomping in unison. Each right hand on the icy bottles of YooHoo and left hand on the messy sandwich. Sauce and chocolate created a colorful mustache on each face. "If I didn't know better, I swear to God they were separated at birth."
Chris laughed and shook his head, sipping the strong brew as the rain began to come down in torrents.
"You know what's good way to pass time on a day like this?" Buck asked.
"Don't look this way," Chris chuckled, arching a sandy brow.
"I didn't mean that!" Buck laughed, then nodded, "...course that's also a great way to spend a rainy morning. No, I mean movies..."
"I don't know," Chris eyed the raw weather and rubbed his aching shoulder. "I think I'll pass..."
"No, I didn't mean to go to the movies, I meant to rent a bunch."
"A marathon," J.D. hollered, "cool, we can each pick one..."
"You best finish your breakfast then," Buck advised the two youngest, "...cause you two are coming with me. I'll stay in the van, you can dodge the raindrops."
"Ain't had m'breakfast yet," Vin crowed, shoving the last of the sandwich in his mouth.
"What was that mess you just sucked up?" Buck asked.
"A snack," the younger man replied and J.D.'s dark head bobbed in agreement.
"Jeez, Buck, you don't meatballs for breakfast..." the youth supplied with a disdained face.
"Get him," Vin shook his head and drained his Yoohoo.
"Surrender now, Buck," Chris advised with a sly grin.
"Didn't someone say it's a shame youth is wasted on the young?" Buck replied.
"I might have!" Josiah hollered back.
"You have a short memory," Chris chided.
"What?" Buck frowned, trying to peel the fuzz off his eyes.
"Seems to me cornflakes with cold tomato soup poured over them is hardly the breakfast of champions."
"Ewww!" J.D. grimaced. "That's disgusting... tomato soup..."
"That was different," Buck defended, "...that was an emergency... she was pullin' out in hurry..."
"Come on, Kid," Vin advised, hauling his young friend up. "We ain't old t'hear this... esp. on Sunday mornin'..." He turned the television off and padded back towards the shower.
"Her plane!" Buck corrected, "somethin' funny Josiah?" he shouted at the booming laughter form the kitchen.
"Buck, your memoirs would make Don Juan blush..."
"I think his last name was Wilmington..." Chris quipped, enjoying his coffee, the soft jazz music Josiah found on the radio and the rain accenting his morning read.
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