#ndu purradox

[sylphidine]

[NDU] Wonder Wheel

Written for the Day 4 prompt of the Nightmare Dork University Autumn Carnival over at @366daysofnightmaredorks.

---------------------------

"Nothing ever changes in Pinaro's classes, I swear. I mean, I know ancient art is ancient art.  It's not like I'm going to get to hop into a time machine and see frescoes being created from scratch. But there's still research going on, explorations and expeditions happening all over the world.  Why she's got to restrict the syllabus to the same old boring Greeks and Romans in a third year class boggles the mind." 

"That's why I keep telling you to audit one of Dr. Tushir's courses. She doesn't just cover military history.   She throws all those dates and battles into context with what the people were doing in the middle of it all, whether it's Hawai’i or Parthia or Stuart England. I never expected to learn about jewelry in a history class."

She made a goofy face at him and said, "Admit it. You want me to draw your pug in battle armor."

"Well, yeah. That was kind of the point of this whole 'bribe you with lasagna' plan."

Ebony juggled the keys in one hand and the handles of four grocery bags in the other.  Behind her, Pitchiner was loaded down with another four bags. Before she could unlock the apartment door,  it opened, with Jack Sickle standing there. He put a finger to his lips and murmured, "Ssssh… Pitch's asleep.  We… we just got back fr-from the library." Ebony and Pitchiner exchanged worried looks as they followed Jack in.

The kitchen was empty and devoid of hipster creepers, which was a definite blessing.  It was a surprise not to see Purradox strolling in to supervise the unloading of their haul, and to not have Tarminator dancing at their feet. Without being asked, Jack helped Pitchiner put pasta boxes and sauce jars on shelves, and Ebony wrestled the fresh produce into the crispers in the fridge. 

"Wanna stay for dinner, Jackie? Lasagna night and all."

Jack blushed and muttered, “Can’t. I have to… I have to meet Piki downtown at th-the-the coffeehouse… there’s a p-p-p-poetry reading he wants us to.. to hear.”

“Your loss, man.” Pitchiner rolled his eyes at Ebony, who put her hand on the freshman’s besweatered arm and said, “Well, try to have a good time.”  Jack flashed her a grateful look as he headed out.

After the door closed, Pitchiner said, “So. Can you go check on Sleeping Beauty while I start working on the sauce?”

Ebony was already heading out of the kitchen and down the hall, commenting, “I hope he doesn’t have one of his headaches.”

The meat was browned, the veg was chopped, and everything was nestled together in the crockpot along with some tomato paste and red wine, when Pitchiner looked up at the clock and noticed that half an hour had gone by without a peep from either Ebony or Pitch.  Figuring his lasagna sauce could simmer along without him, he made his way towards his bedroom and the crosslegged figure sitting in the hallway.

She raised a finger to her lips and whispered, “Go see. It’s the most adorable thing ever.”

Pitchiner leaned around Ebony and stuck his head in the open doorway.  He grinned hugely and whispered back in an atrocious Irish accent, “Sure and begorrah and all the saints, ‘t’is truly a miracle to behold!”

In the dead center of Pitchiner’s king-size bed, Pitch lay sleeping, curled up like a shrimp.  In the curve of his body, up against his chest, Purradox was dozing, her paws kneading the air. Facing her in the opposite direction lay Tarminator, snoring away, making his own happy circle.

Ebony said quietly, “I think they’ve got the right idea.  How long till dinner?”

“Hour and a half-ish?”

“Well then. Hubcap time.”  She got to her feet, stretched her arms over her head and cracked her back. Pitchiner made a humming noise and half-sang, “You take the pug dog, and I’ll take the witch dog…”

“...and I’ll be in dreamland afore ye,” finished Ebony.  She crawled onto the bed and lay down behind Tarminator, while Pitchiner did the same on the opposite side so he could spoon Pitch.

A muzzy-headed theatre major opened his eyes at some point, took in the sight of the cuddle puddle he’d ended up in the middle of, and surrendered to his sleepy fate.

-----------

Author’s notes: 

1] this takes place in the Extra Roommate AU, featuring Ebony Centaurii created by @ksclaw

2] this was inspired by this post by @plush-anon

3] there need to be more cuddle puddles and more war pugs in the world

[sylphidine]

OH MY GOD IT’S PURRADOX

Did Proto do this?

[366daysofnightmaredorks]

nightmare dork university ndu pitch ndu pitchiner piki black jack sickle proto pitch ndu tarminator ndu purradox pyotr pitchiner ebu jack frost evil boyfriends university

[bowlingforgerbils]

I am in the mood for some silliness, so the askmeme about "who does / who is" for NDU Tarminator and NDU Purradox, whichever questions you think fit their dynamic.

who hogs the duvet

Tarminator snuffles under the covers and rolls himself into them. Purradox then sleeps on top of the entire lump.

who texts/rings to check how their day is going

Tarminator barks in Purradox’s face when she’s been gone too long. BARK BARK WHERE YOU BEEN?! He earns a swipe across the nose for his troubles.

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts

Purradox’s gifts – small dead animals – are rather traditional, whereas Tarminator brings his master all sorts of stuff! Socks, dustbunnies, toys – all slobbery and half-chewed, of course.

who gets up first in the morning

Tarminator

who suggests new things in bed

Umm….

who cries at movies

Tarminator will bark if a dog in a movie barks.

who gives unprompted massages

Purradox

who fusses over the other when they’re sick

Nope, no fussing, the pets get quarantined if they are sick.

who gets jealous easiest

They’re about the same. If Pitchiner is petting Purradox, Tarminator runs right over like ME ME PET ME!!! If Tarminator is getting more attention, Purradox sulks in a corner.

who has the most embarrassing taste in music

…

who collects something unusual

Purradox has a collection of toy mice under the fridge. 

who takes the longest to get ready

Purradox

who is the most tidy and organised

Tarminator, because he is a good boy and puts away his toys.

who gets most excited about the holidays

Tarminator has NO IDEA what is going on, but loves all the activity on any major holiday. Purradox also has no idea what’s going on, but she doesn’t care.

who is the big spoon/little spoon

Purradox is the big slinky bendy spoon that wraps around Tarminator.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

Tarminator gets into playing way more than Purradox, he’ll keep chasing her or her tail long after she’s done playing.

who starts the most arguments

Purradox, with a bop on the nose.

who suggests that they buy a pet

LOL

what couple traditions they have

…snuggling together?

what tv shows they watch together

Tarminator does not “see” things on tv, although Purradox will sometimes try to catch something on the screen. (And gets yelled at for her troubles.) So they both stay away from the tv.

what other couple they hang out with

Pitch and Pitchiner. HA. 

how they spend time together as a couple

snuggling, play fighting, fighting for real, hanging out on the couch

who made the first move

Tarminator was the first to make overtures of friendship. Purradox finally warmed up to him.

who brings flowers home

Well, Tarminator digs UP more flowers…

who is the best cook

Animals without opposable thumbs are not allowed to use the kitchen.

[sylphidine]

Back To School At NDU, Day 3 - Sleeping Habits, Part1

Title: CODENAME: Pets Next Door

Rating: Gen. Oh, so very gen this time

Fandom:  Nightmare Dork University [ a Rise of the Guardians AU]

Characters: Purradox, Tarminator, Mister Pickles, Brunhilde [mentioned]

Author’s Note: Some time ago I asked @bowlingforgerbils to do an askmeme for me with the NDU pets, and I just found it again, and spurred this bit of ridiculousness.

____________________________

Purradox opened her eyes, stretched, and leapt off the bed, to land at her pet’s feet. 

Her pet stood muttering in front of the wardrobe that had nothing but dress shoes, boots, and slippers in the bottom of it; she much preferred the closets in the hallway where there were plenty of comfy, albeit scratchy, blankets where she could nest. She felt it her duty to distract her pet from muttering, so she strolled slinkily between his legs and trilled to get his attention.  

As intended, he reached down to stroke her long coat in response, calming down considerably, and she in turn rubbed her face against his hand, collecting evidence.  Her pet then left the room, heading towards the kitchen, where she could hear her canine compatriot yipping and snuffling in response to his own pet’s morning breakfast ritual.

The voice of the third human who lived in Purradox’s territory could be heard in the kitchen as well.  Shortly thereafter, all three humans left for what they referred to as “classes”, and the apartment was silent once more.  

The black cat noted that a shirt that her pet had dropped on the floor was liberally covered in cat hairs of fawn and chocolate hues.  This was excellent news; it meant that Agent Brunhilde had sent them a field report.   

She uttered a short, sharp meow which brought Tarminator running.  As her junior agent, and surprisingly good at his job, the pug knew instantly what Purradox wanted when she indicated the wrinkled shirt with a wave of her paw.

With a gentleness that would have surprised his own pet, Tarminator took one of the sleeves in his jaws and dragged it carefully into the living room, following Purradox’s lead, where Agent Pickles awaited them both.

[to be continued.... hopefully soon]

[sylphidine]

I hadn’t actually thought about ***Jack*** finding out about it, because I think this story is set in the twins’ teen years. @ksclaw​ would be the one to ask.

But I ***do*** reference this fic in one of my own fics, called “Your First Memory Of All”. Pitch’s godfather knows all about Piki’s theft, and gives Pitch a unique present to console him.

The Tumblr version in its fragments, plus background notes is here:

https://sylphidine.tumblr.com/post/178823391862/ndu-your-first-memory-of-all-authors-notes

The AO3 version, tidied up and edited properly, is here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13638222

NDU Stagefright 13, for the lying prompts?

I’m very late with this prompt, I can’t find the damn prompt list this was for and I’ve had a shitty week, so I took out my frustrations on the twins.——————-

There is a myth about how twins can keep no secrets from one another. Piki had learned early on that this was not the case, at least not in the Black family. It was just a matter of being careful. A whispered word here, a well kept secret there, and you could achieve just about anything. Especially when it came to keeping things from Pitch. Oh he discovered the truth, but not before it was too late.

It was Piki’s first established play. It marked him as a young prodigy who had written a stunning story, telling bout a dark king who had been a disgraced general until he had given his soul to a shadowy metaphor of the devil to get revenge on his enemies.

And it was not Piki’s story.

At times he could still see Pitch’s face when he leaned how Piki’s play had been accepted with open arms by a publisher that their father knew. The play that Pitch had worked on through many a night, had eagerly talked about it with his twin, had told Piki every single detail or possible different ideas for later, that he hadn’t told their parents about because Pitch had wanted to wait until he was certain it was worth publishing before revealing his aspirations to become a playwright. And no one would believe him, all because he had forgotten a simple detail: always sign your work.

The script was hand written, but the twins handwriting was so similar that they could easily copy one another, a feat they had made use of for schoolwork in their early years, especially when helping with homework. The only difference was in their signature. And Pitch had made the mistake of trusting his twin with his work. 

Really, it had almost been too easy to write his own signature on every single page, Piki thought. But he had no regrets about it, when their father’s publisher friend had informed the twins’ parents about how he had read Piki’s script and had found it to be amazing. Their parents had been so proud of their ‘prodigal’ son, thinking that Pitch’s shocked silence had been his own form of praise, until he had asked Piki to meet with him in private. Piki knew what was coming of course, but wasn’t too bothered about it, not when he had achieved his goal.

“How could you?” Pitch had demanded from Piki when they were alone, “how could you just do this? And to me of all people?”

“Be serious, Pitch.” Piki replied coolly, “this family can only have one playwright, and I am the better choice. I have better looks and charisma. I can talk to people, you sneer at the smallest thing. The play would die before it got off the ground in your hands, while I can make it fly.”

“You really believe that.” Pitch said in a neutral tone that at the time should have been alarming.

“I don’t believe it, I know it.” Piki had replied.

Pitch’s expression had darkened at that. 

“Well ‘know’ this. If you can’t be honest to me, then I should just stop being honest with you.” He said, “and you know what else? I hope one day you get stabbed in the back and learn how much it fucking hurts. I hope your heart breaks the way you broke mine. And I hope you go to Hell!” With that he stormed off, shoving his way past their parents who had come to congratulate Piki once more.

“What in the world was that about?” Their mother had asked. Piki just smiled and shrugged. “Oh, you know Pitch. He got jealous over my success and had to express it in the most immature way possible.”

What was another lie at this point?

[sylphidine]

I hereby declare that if ANYONE is going to voicecast as NDU Purradox, it’s going to be Frances Barber.

FIGHT ME.

[sylphidine]

The Doctor was unloading the kittens from assorted coat pockets, piling them on the hotel desk. They started clambering all over the roses, investigating each petal with a child's fascination for detail.

from VAMPIRE SCIENCE, an Eighth Doctor novel by Kate Orman and Jonathan Blum.  

This scene was the indirect inspiration for my NDU story “Your First Memory Of All”, now completed, edited, and posted over at Archive Of Our Own.

AO3 link here

[sylphidine]

[NDU] Your First Memory Of All - Author’s Notes

Sylph sez:

Finally finished.  Will polish it a bit before I upload as a single work to AO3.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Acknowledgements to the folks whose works inspired this particular story of mine, listed in no particular order but all of whom I admire.

The now-deactivated Nightmare Dork University blog ask-purradox and the artwork in this post from that blog

A scene from VAMPIRE SCIENCE, an early Eighth Doctor novel written by Kate Orman and Johnathan Blum [it’s not a plot spoiler to say that the Doctor ran out of a burning building with his pockets full of kittens]

This fanart doodle illustrating said scene by @agent-jaselin

Conversations with @ksclaw in which she postulates that Cruella De Vil is a older cousin of Pitch and Piki Black

Uncle Gilen Russell Black was inspired by this gifset of a museum curator named Dr. Black in the television episode “Vincent and the Doctor”, played by Bill Nighy, and his middle name is a hat-tip to another of my favourite actors

Aunt Annelle Deauville-Sands Black was inspired by photos from past to present of the actress Judy Cornwell, and answers my need for an oblique BlackSand ship in the BlackIce / Pitchcest-heavy NDU universe.  I think, with her height of five-foot-three compared to Bill Nighy’s six-foot-two, that she makes a lovely Sandy-analogue at any age

Pitch’s and Piki’s parents, while unseen in this piece, are very much present in the background, and their entire milieu and lifestyle is something I’m basing on my own experience of the toxic environment in which my partner grew up

This story by @ksclaw which shows just one of the ways that Pitch feels inadequate when compared to Piki when the twins were growing up

A happier story by @marypsue referencing certain other Black relatives

The headcanon that @plush-anon set up in “Fire Alarms and November Nights”, where Pitch and Pitchiner each live in a freshman dorm at NDU before they met and took the apartment together with Proto

This heartbreaking tale from @the-ink-kettle   about Pitch’s college days before he met Pitchiner

Borrowing from one of my own posts

[sylphidine]

Note to self: Use writing about the NDU pets as a unicorn chaser when writing NDU boys angst.

That’s my good girl, decimating the campus wildlife. 

[sylphidine]

[NDU] Your First Memory Of All, Part Four

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

It was a flaming miracle that neither his parents’ housekeeper nor any relatives had been in the pantry when Pitch and his godfather made their escape there, following the tiny black furry arrow.

Uncle Gilen looked absently down at his Tom Collins glass and remembered his excuse for sequestering them.  Without a word exchanged between them, he moved towards the refrigerator and Pitch took his place leaning against the pantry door to keep out any nosy interference.  

The kitten stopped her exploration of chair legs and emerged from their tangle to wander over the faux-brick-tiled floor.  Her meanderings brought her to a direct stop at Pitch’s shining dress shoes.  She sat upon her haunches, looked up and up and up at him, blinking in the bright light.

She then set a little black paw cautiously on his foot, in much the manner that Nanny Phoebe [one of the nannies that he and Piki had actually LIKED] would do with her hand on theirs, when either of the twins came back to the nursery in tears after a parental disappointment.

It was uncanny to have a small feline telling him “I’m here” without words. 

Pitch stood absolutely still.  He blinked back at her, transfixed.

The clink of ice, the slosh of liquid and the sound of a glass being set down on the marble counter broke the spell.  Pitch looked back up, startled, just in time to see Uncle Gilen transferring the black kitten from his narrow-palmed hands with the traditional long Black fingers to Pitch’s own long-fingered ones.   Instinctively Pitch held her cradled under her back legs with one hand, while loosely clasping her middle with the other.

The lonely teenager and the homeless kitten stared at one another at eye level, their irises almost the same exact shade of pale sherry.

The kitten gave a trill and reached out to pat Pitch’s prominent nose with the softest of touches, her pink pads smooth and velvety.

Pitch’s soft smile in return was a beauty to behold, all the moreso since it was sweet and spontaneous, neither the affected grimace nor the tightlipped sneer he normally displayed in mimicry of his parents.  

Uncle Gilen said quietly, “She seems to have made up her mind that you are hers.  The gentleman who was... abiding with her... thought she would gravitate towards a creative sort.”

The unstated-but-nevertheless-evident faith that his godfather had in him was the second-best present Pitch Black had ever received in his young life.

**********************************************************

A FEW YEARS LATER

  When not napping, Purradox would generally spend long stretches of time looking out the freshman dorm window to the cheerless classroom buildings across the street.  She knew by the slant of the daylight when he would return each day to the room they shared. 

She knew by the lightly tapping, tripping footsteps approaching the door eagerly the afternoons and nights when he was happy and would have extra treats for her.

She knew by the dragging, shuffling footsteps that took forever to reach the door the afternoons and nights when she would be needed to cheer him.

Blissful or sad, she would curl into him as he lay on the bed.  He would gently hold her paw and she would rest her chin on his hand as they both drifted off to sleep. 

She no longer remembered a time when Pitch had not been hers and she had not been his.

He was all that mattered.

[sylphidine]

[NDU] Your First Memory Of All, Part Three

Part One here

Part Two here

You awoke from the nice nap you’d taken after you’d been moved from the snug sack of the one-who-saves to another, slightly smaller one.  You blinked your eyes sleepily and stretched, flexing your claws against something warm.

Suddenly there was a people-paw in the sack with you.  While the people-paw did not smell the same as the people-paw of the one-who-saves, it had a safe smell all its own.  You responded using your Small Voice [no need to bring out the Big Voice until needed] and rubbed against the people-paw.

Your rubbing seemed to have the result of your world moving.  While you were still comfortable in the snug sack, and the people-paw was rubbing you back in turn, you could tell that you were going to be somewhere else soon.

And then you were.  

====================

Gilen had almost made it past the dining room and into the pantry, Pitch at his heels, when the kitten decided she had other ideas.  She clawed up out of his jacket pocket, dropped lightly to the dining room rug, and sprinted into the pantry as though she had lived in a Black household all her life.

The man and the teenager tried to saunter nonchalantly after the dark streak so as not to attract attention from the other relatives still in the parlour.  Gilen closed the pantry door behind him and leaned against it, shaking with silent laughter.  Pitch had no idea how to react to this distinctly un-Black-like behaviour and settled for drawing himself up to his full height, crossing his arms over his chest, and raising an eyebrow at his uncle.

Finally Gilen got himself under control enough to speak, as the kitten nosed around the legs of the stools drawn up around the breakfast island.  “On my way over here, I had all these grandiose plans of how to pull a kitten out of my pocket and say, ‘Behold!’  It sounded good in my head, at any rate.”

[sylphidine]

[NDU] Your First Memory Of All, Part Two

Part One can be found here

Fifteen years old, insistent upon walking to a drumbeat different to that of his sibling, constantly raging, definitely internally, sometimes out loud [but not by choice] that everything always came so easily to CERTAIN OTHER PEOPLE, including things CERTAIN OTHER PEOPLE had not earned.

Gilen Russell Black remembered his own teens all too well.

He remembered what it felt like to constantly be held to an impossible standard, one where he’d never, ever measure up.  

He knew what his godson Pitch was experiencing during an event that was supposed to be a celebration for him as well as for Pitch’s twin Piki.  While his older sister “Cruel-llah” Talullah’s birthday was not on the same day as his, it WAS in the same month, and too often his own relatives had thought it cute to combine their parties despite the two years difference in age.

Talullah had been useful for one thing in her life; she’d introduced him to Annelle Deauville-Sands, and for that he had to give her kudos.

Gilen grinned at the thought of what his sister’s probable reaction would have been if SHE had been the one to encounter the strange man who had bumped into him on the sidewalk outside the hotel that morning.  Talullah certainly would not have found a Romantic poet wannabe, with flowing russet curls and a green velvet frockcoat, as amusing as Annelle did when she joined him in waiting for the car that would take them to the party.

And Talullah would have shrieked, rather than breaking into smiles, when the man started pulling kittens out of his pockets. 

[sylphidine]

[NDU] By Your Side

A spotlight on the Nightmare Dork University pets.

Tarminator bits inspired by this post.  Purradox bits inspired by my late cat Phinneas. Brunhilde bits inspired by the marvelous gifsets of @ask-piki-black.

==================================

TARMINATOR

Run with me

Play with me

Snuggle with me

Throw the ball to me

Do the tuggy thing with the rope toy with me

Nap with me

I will drive away the not-you-that-looks-like-you bad-shadow-monster with my bark and growl

I will rest my chin in your hand and stay always by your side

==============================

PURRADOX

You tell me every day that I am your gift.

You let me keep your lap warm when you are hard at work in my chair [I let you think it’s your chair] with the clackety noises that make squiggles on the lighted box.

You whisper in my ears all your hopes and fears, and get my fur wet with your tears.

I place my paw on top of your hand while you sleep.  I place my paw on your foot when you’re sitting too long in one spot, to let you know that I am here and you are not alone.

I rub my chin against your shoulder to tell you I will always be by your side.

===============================

BRUNHILDE

Sun is warm

Couch is warm

Your sweaters are warm

Your shoulder is warm

The best place to stay warm is by your side

Except when you dance

[sylphidine]

[NDU] I Can See Your Ghosts

Written for the @rotgsecretsanta 2020 Stocking Stuffer event.

Prompt #7 - Nightmare Dork University, Jack Sickle/Proto as the only people left in the dorms over the holidays.

________________________

December 24th, 2pm

“You… you can eat potatoes, right?  I mean… y-y-you’re not… allergic, or an-any-anything?”

“Not in the least, Jack.  It should be an intriguing experiment, sampling YOUR cooking.”

December 24th, 4pm

“I tried… I really tr-tr-tried, but the store… the store was shut earlier th-than I th-tho-thought and now… and n-n-n-now I don’t have ingredients and P-P-Piki’s pantry’s empty and…”

“I’m sure we’ll find that one of our erstwhile roommates has left something behind. The esteemed Cossimo is never one to resist stockpiling starches.”

December 24th, 9pm

“Oh dear. Perhaps we shouldn’t have used the GREEN potatoes, Jack.  I don’t suppose you took the solanine factor into account.”

__________________________

As had happened last year, Jack had practically jumped at the excuse not to go home from NDU for the winter break, when asked by Piki in mid-December to look after Brunhilde.  The playwright had smothered Jack with kisses at the thought that his sweet but lethargic Siamese cat would not have to be boarded over the holidays.

Piki didn’t know, or chose to ignore, that Pitch and Pitchiner had also asked Jack to look after their pets, since they couldn’t trust Proto as far as they could throw him. [In Coz’s case, the distance that Proto could be thrown might well be a prodigious one, if Coz could bear to touch the man.]  

Jack had no problem with the idea of shuttling between his dorm, Piki’s apartment, and the flat that Pitch and Coz shared with Proto, in order to spend time feeding and petting Brunhilde, doing the same for Pitch’s cat Purradox as well as brushing her long coat, and feeding, walking and playing with Tarminator the pug.  He hugged the secret to himself of having THREE animals to pamper.  Three beings that didn’t judge him or make him nervous.

Classes and finals were done with. Pitch and Piki drove off in separate cars to their parents’ home. Pitchiner’s parents picked him up on campus after collecting his grandparents for the long drive upstate. Jack jingled the extra sets of keys he’d been entrusted with and released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.  

He wasn’t sure what Proto would be up to for the next two weeks, but he hoped he could avoid the frightening man if he tried very hard.

Of course, Murphy’s Law meant that Proto was unavoidable.

What had never occurred to Jack was that “unavoidable” involved a scenario in which Proto would NEED him.

_______________________________

For four straight days, Jack’s luck had held.out.  

He left his dorm at 6am each morning and headed to Pitch and Pitchiner’s to take care of Tarminator first, as well as laying down hard kibble and fresh water for Purradox.  Both when he got there each day and when he returned an hour later from taking Tar for his walk, Proto’s bedroom door had been closed each time, and thankfully there had been no sign of Mister Pickles, either.  

Jack would then head over to Piki’s to spend time with Brunhilde, who loved nothing better than someone to nap with.  Piki had told Jack explicitly to feel free to use up any of the foodstuffs in the flat, so Jack enjoyed the chance to make messes in the kitchen undisturbed.  While Coz had told him he had free rein in his and Pitch’s kitchen as well, somehow the thought of Proto popping up unexpectedly at any given time put a damper on Jack’s appetite.  He was much happier making his meals at Piki’s place and taking the leftovers back to the dorm.

He would usually leave Piki’s apartment around 2pm with a full belly and spend a few hours in his dorm room reading. The RA on duty was used to him by now, and as long as Jack didn’t leave a security door unlocked or his hot plate plugged in, he was considered trustworthy and not needing a check-in.  

Jack dutifully sent e-mail home every afternoon, although he never got a reply.  Each day he convinced himself that his parents were just busy, and distracted himself with looking forward to the evening cat-brushing and dog-walking.

Twice he had run into Proto briefly as he came back to drop Tarminator off for the night, but both times the other man had seemed to be on his way out, and in too much of a hurry to do more than give Jack a small wave of his ridiculously large hand.

On the fifth day, Jack’s luck ran out.

____________________________________

December 24th, 6:20am

As Jack turned his keys in the lock, he heard a canine whine behind the door.  Usually Tarminator would yip to greet him, so the whine was the first sign that All Was Not Quite Right.

The second sign was when Jack came through the door, Tarminator continued to whine, the sound of “I Know I’ve Been Bad But I Didn’t Mean It Really I Didn’t”.  

The third sign was that Purradox came streaking out of the kitchen and halted at Jack’s feet before headbutting his shins.

Purradox was never that friendly with Jack, although she’d warmed up quite a lot over the last year.  Her behavior, more than the pug’s, was what alarmed Jack most and had him standing frozen in the foyer, although he did have the presence of mind to close the apartment door so that neither pet would dash outside.

The sound of scrabbling movement in the kitchen could be heard.  Jack braced himself for an onslaught of giant centipedes or an army of wolf spiders to start charging down the hallway towards him.  Instead, Proto’s voice sang out, “I know you’re out there, Jack. I can hear you breathing.”

Snapping back to reality, Jack stammered, “H-h-hello?”

“Why, yes, hello to you too, although it's a bit difficult to see around corners. I'd come out to meet you, but that's a bit impractical at the moment. "

Visions of Proto's more… extreme pastimes swam before Jack's eyes, and he blurted out, "No, that's… that's OK. You...you just keep doing what you're doing and I'll take Tarminator for his walk."

"Oh, Jack,  Jack,  Jack.  You're going to make me beg,  aren't you. Please come to the kitchen because I CAN'T COME OUT TO SEE YOU. "

The other's voice had changed dramatically in the course of the sentence from self-contained and analytical to something almost rough and stretched beyond endurance.  There was PAIN in that voice and it galvanized Jack into motion. 

He almost skidded into the kitchen at a run, both Tarminator and Purradox at his heels. 

Proto sat on the floor leaning against the cabinet below the sink. His right hand was cradled in his lap and even from a distance Jack could see that the wrist was swollen.  Possibly dislocated or broken, at a guess. In addition, his right leg was twisted under him. Jack couldn't help muttering,  "Oh dear."

"Oh dear, indeed.” 

“What- what happened?”

“I seem to have taken a fall over Pitchiner’s sweet, fragile little animal.  Astounding how something so small can do so much damage.  In any case,  some assistance would be appreciated. "

Some long-buried part of Jack's mind had a flash of glee over the notion of a helpless Proto,  but it passed. Being given something to do was much more comfortable.  

He hunkered down and gently took Proto’s hand in his, asking in a quiet voice whether he could flex his fingers, while Jack ran his own fingers lightly over the wrist. It felt warm to the touch and was starting to bruise.  Proto stared unblinkingly at him and silently indicated his ankle as well. Jack cautiously pulled it from its bent position to a straightened one, thankfully with no more reaction from Proto than a flicker of discomfort.

"O-okay. Let me help you up. Couch or room?"

"Couch, if you would be so good. " 

Jack carefully put his hands under Proto’s armpits and pulled the lanky man upwards and towards him, being sure that the injured hand was not bent between their torsos. As he put weight on his ankle, Proto hissed and narrowed his eyes, showing just how much he was discomfited by needing Jack's help.  Jack stifled a giggle at this confirmation that Pitch and Proto were related; that hiss had been pure Pitch. 

Somehow the smaller man got the taller one to his feet and into the living room. The cat and the dog had the sense to back off while Jack was maneuvering Proto to the couch, Purradox flouncing off with her tail in a floof, Tarminator retreating to Pitchiner’s room.  Once Proto was seated, though, Jack was at a loss. His adrenaline ran out and his innate insecurities returned.  What if he, Jack, had set matters in motion in such a way that it was his fault that Proto had been hurt? What if it was his fault that Tarminator had gotten underfoot? He couldn't do anything right,  he messed everything up…. He squeezed his eyes tight, forgetting that Proto was right in front of him until a huge cold hand seized his arm and he HAD to look at the other man.

Two pairs of blue eyes locked gazes; one pair burning like a chemical fire, the other pair glinting with shades of water and ice.  Proto smiled in his usual fashion and said, "That's better.  Breathe, Jack.  You're no use to me passed out. And yes, you're going to be of use to me."

Those words had an almost electric effect on Jack. He straightened up and his eyes widened even more as he shook off Proto’s grip. His voice trembled as he said, "I'll help you. You don't - you don’t have to threaten me."

“Oh, no?”

“No.”

Proto raised an eyebrow as Jack continued, "Since you haven’t asked me to call an ambulance for you, I’ll assume you don’t have any broken bones and you didn’t hit your head, so there’s no concussion to worry about.  Campus Health probably would do the same things I can do. So. First I'm going to wrap that wrist and get you a sling for the shoulder.  Then I have to walk the dog, and then I have to - I have to f-find a way to get Brunhilde here, i-i-i-if I’m going to have to stay here tonight or l-l-longer…”

Damn, he’d started out so well, actually sounding like he knew what he was talking about, but the stutter had crept back in.  Jack gulped and forged onwards.  “Do you - do you want me to find Coz’s old crutches? Do you need painkillers, or... do you already have something? And… and are you going to b-b-be able to manage…” His voice trailed off and he blushed hotly as he waggled his head in the direction of the bathroom.

That earned Jack a dark chuckle from Proto. “Yes, nurse, I can manage my more fluid-based bodily functions. I still have one working hand, after all.”  He fixed Jack with another of his intense stares. “I think I will avail myself of your offer of crutches.  Thank you, Jack.”

Jack ducked his head and muttered, “You’re welcome.”  It didn’t escape his notice that the question about painkillers had been completely ignored.

He turned quickly to head into Coz’s room, where he knew he’d find the first aid supplies he’d need. On his return, he found Proto leaning his head back and his eyes closed.  Leaning the crutches on the arm of the couch, Jack sat down softly next to Proto and began to gently wrap the sore wrist.  Without opening his eyes, Proto said, “You can use one of my scarves from the hall closet for a sling, and you’re going to have to do the cooking. There’s money in the bread box for an Uber and groceries.”

“Sssshhhhh.  W-way ahead of you.”  

“I leave myself in your capable hands, then.”

________________________________

During his extra-long walk with Tarminator, Jack had had time to ruminate on what he’d talked himself into. As long as he focused on the mechanics of the situation, he could handle it. 

Proto had retreated to his room by the time Jack brought Tar back to the apartment.  He took the time to make an assessment of what foodstuffs could be divided into things he could eat versus things that Proto could eat. It seemed silly to Jack to be planning separate meals, though, so he figured he could probably stomach vegan food for a few days.  Whole wheat pasta shouldn’t be too different than, say, Prince spaghetti, right? And tomatoes were tomatoes, and cucumber was cucumber…

He walked to Piki’s and gently coaxed Brunhilde into her blue NDU hooded sweater. He lured her into the cat carrier with the aid of her favourite plush toy, a stuffed giraffe.  He packed her special dish and her special food and her special pillow. On the Uber ride back to the flat, he looked up vegan recipes on his phone.

One recipe caught Jack’s eye and made his heart nearly stop in unexpected anguish.  

Vegan latkes. With vegan tzatziki sauce instead of sour cream.

He had been trying so hard to ignore the time of year and the guilt it always brought him [not that the guilt wasn’t present during every other day of the year].  

It was a sign.

Emma had loved latkes.  Jack missed his little sister more than words could say.

He didn’t like Proto.  He was, quite frankly, terrified of Proto.  But Proto needed him.

Jack could not save the dead, but he could help the living.

It meant a trip to the health food store, but that shouldn't be any different from a regular supermarket,  right?

And that’s where Jack ran into trouble.

_____________________________

He got Brunhilde set up in Coz’s room after showing her the covered catbox in the bathroom; thankfully Purradox ignored her after a quick sniff.  It was about 2 o'clock in the afternoon,  and the daylight was starting to turn overcast. Jack knocked on Proto’s door and was answered with an invitation to come in. Proto was propped up in bed, Mister Pickles on his lap, a psychology textbook at his side.  A half-full bowl on the nightstand reassured Jack that at least Proto could reheat leftovers one-handed. 

Jack said hesitantly,  "I'm going to need your cellphone number. "

Proto's eyebrows rose, and he replied,  "How intimate.  Are you sure Piki won't disapprove?"

"Piki isn't here to approve or disapprove.  I'm just doing what needs doing. I c-c-can make us meals for a few days with what you've got, but I wanted to try... to try something... something new.  You… you can eat potatoes, right?  I mean… y-y-you’re not… allergic, or an-any-anything?”

“Not in the least, Jack.  It should be an intriguing experiment, sampling YOUR cooking.”

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Then I'm going to go shopping and I'll be back in a bit."

Two hours later, he was nearly in tears. He had gotten to the health food store about twenty minutes before they closed. He'd forgotten it was Christmas Eve  and that some people actually wanted to go home to their families. He found the coconut yogurt, the flax seed, and the almond milk, but the potato bins were completely empty. Jack made his purchases and asked the Uber driver to take him back to the flat, not even daring to try the big supermarket since it too was likely to be closed.

Why hadn't he left earlier,  why hadn't he called ahead,  why, why, why… The broken record kept yammering in his head as he trudged disconsolately up the stairs with his groceries. 

As Jack unpacked his purchases on the counter, Proto limped in, one crutch tucked under his left arm.  He seemed able to gingerly use the right foot again in a sort of hop-glide motion. Jack thought to himself that the other man was a lot less likely to be able to sneak up on him or to loom over him, and he wasn’t sure why that idea gave him so much pleasure. He felt a sudden burst of confidence, but then he was reminded of his failure to acquire potatoes.  His upset must have shown on his face, because Proto commented, “Something wrong?” 

That released the flood of self-recrimination.

“I tried… I really tr-tr-tried, but the store… the store was shut earlier th-than I th-tho-thought and now… and n-n-n-now I don’t have ingredients and P-P-Piki’s pantry’s empty and…”

Proto seated himself at the kitchen table clumsily and let Jack’s tirade wind itself down.  He steepled his fingers and said, “I’m sure we’ll find that one of our erstwhile roommates has left something behind. The esteemed Cossimo is never one to resist stockpiling starches.”

Jack blinked tears out of his lashes and met Proto’s flat gaze. “You think so?”

“Bottom cabinet, behind the frypans, you’ll find a bag of potatoes. He may have the manners of a barbarian, but our athletic friend has a great deal of common sense.  Darkest spot in the house, best place for tubers.  You’ll probably find some onions there, too.”

A few minutes later, as he started grating potatoes and onions and collecting the liquid for the potato starch, Jack found himself actually chattering away to Proto, of all people, about library books and how he’d like to have a houseful of books with Brodart covers.  Some large rock in his chest seemed to have rolled away. The lanky man was paying complete and utter attention to him in a way that was far different than Piki’s obsessive hovering, or even Proto’s usual clinical observation mode. For the first time, Jack did not feel like a bug under a microscope.

He fell unconsciously into a long-forgotten rhythm as he prepped Coz’s cast-iron pan with Proto’s sunflower oil and got the latkes ready for frying.  Proto seemed rather impressed that Jack knew what a flax egg was and applauded him on his execution of same.  All in all, the atmosphere in the kitchen was downright cozy, something Jack never would have expected.

The sheer quantity of food that the two put away would have done Pitchiner proud.  Tarminator begged at Jack’s feet, but he resisted giving the pug any.  There was still a large platter of leftovers that Jack carefully covered and left on the warmer on the stovetop.

“Shall we adjourn to the living room?” inquired Proto as Jack finished washing their plates and utensils.  Shy again, Jack nodded.  “Do... do you n-n-need to stretch out?”

“If you can set me up with the ottoman, that should work.”

They settled in peaceably with their various reading choices. All three animals joined Jack on the couch, while Proto leaned back in the armchair, his foot propped up as requested.  Snow had started falling outside, as seen through the picture window, and it was an almost surrealistically perfect scene. Jack had to wonder what Hallmark movie he’d wandered into.  Proto did not seem to be either the flannel-draped country hunk or the disillusioned city-slicker damsel.

His muffled giggle turned into a yawn, and he noticed that Proto had put his book down and closed his eyes. Now there was an excellent idea; a nap would feel wonderful after the early start to his day and the current state of his overfull stomach. He shifted himself to make room for curling up without disturbing the two sleeping cats and the snoring pup.

Some time later, he woke to find the living room dark, his head pillowed on someone’s thigh and someone’s fingers rippling through his hair. A soft voice said, “Oh dear. Perhaps we shouldn’t have used the GREEN potatoes, Jack.  I don’t suppose you took the solanine factor into account.”

Jack stayed very still out of habit, his mind racing.  An injured Proto should not have been able to join him on the couch without making any noise.  But then again, perhaps Jack WAS that tired.  He tried to speak normally and asked, “Oh?”

“I can see your ghosts, you know.”

Now Jack was alert.  In all the time he’d known the other man, he’d never seen him impaired by alcohol or chemicals.  He did a mental rifling through the pages of his memory and came up with a recollection. His cousin Frost had once told him that how potatoes were in the same family as deadly nightshade, and... 

“Proto... d-d-did you take any Benadryl or oxycontin today?”

A breathy sigh that ruffled his hair was his only answer.

That was the least strange thing that had happened in this long, strange day.  Jack resigned himself to being needed a bit longer and snuggled into his current bony pajama-clad pillow.

[sylphidine]

[NDU] When In Doubt, Be A Witch Dog, Part Two

Part One is here.

https://sylphidine.tumblr.com/post/184423475132/ndu-when-in-doubt-be-a-witch-dog-chapter-one

“Now listen here, Pitch.  Don’t you be so thick in the head!”

The theatre student couldn’t help but grin at that turn of phrase; it was one he’d thrown at Pitchiner often enough.

His grin faded as a thought flashed across his mind.  Had he used that phrase in their latest fight?  Could he actually have made the big lug homesick?

The thought was enough to distract him to the point that Mama Michelina had to repeat herself several times.  “Pitch?  Pitch, dear, are you still there?”

He shook his head to clear it and said, “Yes, I’m sorry, the connection dropped out for a minute.”

“I said, it takes two to have a quarrel, and I know my Cossimo.  He can be ottuso too, especially if his pride is hurt. I am sure he was unkind to you”, her tone softening, “and that is why I called, to see if YOU are all right.  Not to yell at you.”

“Now there’s a first,” Pitch couldn’t help but blurt out.  “Your grandson seems to have no problem with that.”

“I know, and that is why I think you need to be his cane stregone.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She laughed and repeated, “Cane stregone.  He needs a witch dog.”

Pitch wondered what dimension he’d wandered into where the phrase “witch dog” had ever made sense, or how it could possibly relate to him. Even in his worst dreams of being stalked by smoky, oily, violent and viciously sarcastic versions of himself, every word he spoke or was spoken to him had been understandable.  

He was suddenly very tired, feeling the lateness of the hour, feeling the length of the week, and, horror of horrors, feeling a tad weepy.  The kindness of this confusing old woman, who by dint of her religion and her generation’s values should be denouncing him as an unnatural abomination and a menace to society, was making him become unraveled.  In a moment he *would* be in tears if he didn’t turn this conversation into something he could handle.

“I’m afraid I’m not following you, Mrs. - I mean, Mama.  Why do you think I’d be a good… cane stregone?”  

“Let me tell you something.  My Andy and I used to have a big dog that we called Stregone, a good guard dog when this neighborhood was not as good as now.  Very fierce, very loyal… loving, not so much.  Not until Cossimo stayed with us one summer when his parents were away.

“Oh, it didn’t happen all at once.  Stregone would growl and snarl, but Cossimo would snarl back.  I think one time Stregone bit Cossimo’s ear and Cossimo bit him back... They went everywhere, and it got so that my Andy would joke that they were both witch dogs.  Cossimo was not easy to love that summer… all mouth and backtalk.  But that dog loved him, and he loved that dog, and they made each other better.”

Mama Michelina paused and then said in a quiet voice, “Because you both scratch and bite and snarl and love all at once, Pitch…. You are good for Cossimo and he is good for you, am I right?”

After a long moment, Pitch replied, “I don’t know.” He didn’t trust himself to say more.

She sighed again. “My grandson will be heading back up to school after dinner on Sunday.  Think about what I said, and be good to yourself, sweetheart.”

He managed to make inane parting noises and switched off his phone.  He went into Coz’s room for the first time in days, lay down on the bed, and went almost instantly to sleep.

====================================

Pitchiner returned to the apartment just after 10PM on Sunday night and was thankful to see all three bedroom doors shut. Purradox and Tarminator were sound asleep on either end of the faded green couch.  He felt guilty for not even wanting to play with his pug, but all he wanted at the moment was to be vertical and quiet.

The first thing to catch his eye was his double bed made up with fresh clean sheets, and it looked like someone had made an attempt at honest-to-goodness crisp hospital corners.  The big duvet was folded at the end of the bed.

The second thing to catch his eye was the someone who had made the attempt, asleep in Pitchiner’s chair at Pitchiner’s desk, head buried in folded arms. Drool soaked the tidy sleeve of a crisp black dress shirt, worn under a taupe satin-back vest.  Grace and elegance personified.  Frustrating, irritating, damnably gorgeous and distracting man.

Sometimes silent apologies were best, both given and received.

Pitch didn’t stir as Pitchiner gently lifted him up off the chair and only murmured muzzily when shifted into a bridal carry and transferred to the bed, disrupting its neatness.  Pitchiner undressed himself and Pitch quickly, but could tell from the way Pitch was curled on his side that fun times were going to lose out to exhaustion.  

Oh, well, there was always the morning.  Pitchiner manoeuvered himself so that he was lying between Pitch’s akimbo arms and legs and chuckled at the thought that it was a rare thing for *him* to be the little spoon.

It served Pitchiner right, when he shared this thought with Pitch upon awakening, that Pitch bit him on the ear.