Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

            Apparently most trans kids are a bit more gradual than I was in developing gender-appropriate interests.  But to hear my mom tell it, one day out of nowhere I just started insisting I was a girl, despite being perfectly comfortable as a boy the day before.  I don’t remember EVER being comfortable getting called a boy.  But to be fair, I don’t remember a lot of things about my early childhood.  I see pictures of me on the wall, and I recognize my face, but for the life of me I don’t remember that camping trip, or that preschool teacher, or what I apparently used to call “the best day of my whole life.”

            My parents have reminded me why I called it that, but honestly I don’t remember a single second of it.  Which sucks because it sounds like I was having one hell of a good time, but I don’t think I’ve ever been that happy in my LIFE.  Sometimes I think my parents must be making it up, but when I see that look in their eyes, I’m sure they’re not.  They’re crushed that I don’t remember.  Like that special time we had together wasn’t important.  I’m sure it was… I just wish I could remember…

            Sometimes it feels like this life I’m living isn’t really my own.

            I hear them talking sometimes, about the day my eyes changed.  How we all woke up and everything was normal except for ME.  It wasn’t something tangible, it was my expressions, my way of moving, like there was a different person behind my eyes, and I’ve never been their same happy kid since.

            They love me but I’m kind of a disappointment.

            I’ve had a few tests for brain damage.  Guess they were wondering if this change was brought on by a fucking stroke or something.  Unfortunately, we had no baseline scan from before it happened, but so far everything’s shown up normal. 

            I might like to add that my brain’s a bit BETTER than normal.  I’m usually too busy sweeping the school of its academic awards to hang out with the other kids my age.  They don’t get me anyway, and frankly I don’t find them all that interesting.  Except as test subjects, when the occasion arises. 

            My parents sometimes worry about me not having friends.  But they’re proud of my accomplishments.  “She’s got a Holt brain,” they say.

            I know they still love me.

Chapter Text

            I’ve never been good at overcoming first impressions, which is a shame because the first time I met Shiro, he was at our door asking if we had a moment for Jesus Christ.

            I remember I nearly pissed myself.  My parents are SCIENTISTS.  For the first half of my life I thought “God” was just a curse word and not something people actually believed in.  And on the occasions that I DO meet people who believe in God, they’re usually well-meaning holyrollers offering to pray for “your child’s condition.”  My parents politely decline.

            So when this guy came to our door with a suit and a Bible, I knew I was in for a great show.  I was hoping my parents would give him an earful of the latest in evolutionary research, but they just kinda smiled and nodded through a few passages of whatever holy bullshit he was giving them. 

            Yeah, a bit less funny than I’d hoped.

            But it’s a damn good thing I didn’t leave.

            Before he left, he loaded my parents up with brochures and bookmarks and probably a sticker or something.  And then he looked at me and gave me something too.

            Strangers don’t usually smile at me that way.  It’s usually just a generic (or mildly pitying) kind of thing, but I swear Shiro looked at me like he’d known me for years.  Like I was more than just someone’s weird kid who wasn’t the same anymore.

            Admittedly my first reaction was that it was a shame someone so great was the one handing out “Ticket to Heaven” leaflets.  I’m generally not one to associate with Christians, since at some point or another I usually end up upsetting them.  And a few more reasons than that.  But no one who talked about Jesus had ever made me feel that way before.

            It’s as embarrassing as it sounds; I was excited to open this thing he had given me.

            So, it turns out, some person out there has made a career of drawing creepy cartoons about sinners going to Hell and stuff.  And it turns out that’s what Shiro decided was the best thing to give me.  I flicked through the booklet and felt some combination of amusement and disappointment.

            But then, wedged between the pages where the cat gets sacrificed to Satan, was a handwritten note.

            Katie.

            I almost dropped it.

            You don’t know me but I consider you a friend.  I understand you feel different from the people around you.  If you want to talk to me, I can help you find some answers.

            Signed by one Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane, with a phone number.

            Damn.  Sketchy.

            But I wasn’t my parents’ sweet little Matt.  I called the fuck out of that number.

Chapter Text

            My parents think I’m staying after school for a robotics meeting.  I’m at a coffee shop where hopefully no one who knows my family will see me.  It’s everything you want in a non-creepy meetup location: well-lit, lots of people, more than one exit.

            Someone at a corner table smiles like he’s been expecting me.  He has.

            I don’t really know how one greets a near-stranger in a coffee shop.  I also tend to forget I’m not supposed to offer my left hand to shake.  But he doesn’t seem to notice.

            Maybe he thought *I* already noticed that his right arm was fake.  I didn’t, but now I’m staring.

            “What happened to your arm?”

            Suddenly he looks uncomfortable.  Fuck me, I shouldn’t have asked.

            “Supernatural accident, of sorts,” he says after the slightest pause.  I would later learn it was his greatest personal failure.  He’s quick to change the subject.  “Would you like anything?”

            I wouldn’t.  I’m sure we’ll have enough time before they kick us out.  And if I change my mind, I’ve got my trusty plastic spoon somewhere in my backpack.

            “So, where’s the Bible?” I try to joke, sitting opposite him.  I think he thought that was funny.

            “Back with all the OTHER excuses I take around.  Unless you want to hear a verse?” he winks.

            That’s a joke too, right?  I can answer that sarcastically?

            “Yeah, no.  I’m an atheist.”

            He nods.

            “I know.”

            “How?  You seem to know a LOT of things…”

            Now he laughs a bit.  Good-naturedly.

           “Well, I’m not sure an atheist would believe me.”

           “Well I’M not sure I believe… most of this.”  I glance around the room.  “Should we really be talking about this here?”

           “I’ve spent a lot of time watching humans.  They’re not gonna believe a word we say unless they see it.”

           Yeah, I know THAT feeling.

           “So, we’re here to talk about something you think will help me?”  I’m kind of wishing I’d ordered a coffee now.  I could use something to keep my hands on.

           “And why you feel so different from everyone.”

           “Because I’m autistic as fuck?”

           “Well, that’s not uncommon among the fair folk.”

           “Sorry, the what?”

           I heard him just fine.  He knows that.

           “What do you have in that pocket?”  He indicates one of the outer zippers on my backpack.

           I don’t really like people probing into my stuff.  But it seems like he’s asking for a reason.  I unzip the pocket and take out my plastic spoon.

           “Why do you bring around a plastic spoon?”

           There are several reasons I carry around a plastic spoon, and only a few of them are socially acceptable.

           “Because you never know when you’re going to need your own spoon,” I say evasively.

           He’s still looking at me.  I think he want me to say a bit more.

           “I have a sensitivity to certain metals,” I shrug.  Hope we can drop this here before he learns the spoon’s name is Harold.

           “Which ones?”

           Man he’s a nosy fucker.

           “Well steel is the most unavoidable, but anything with iron, really.”

           “It burns, doesn’t it?”

           I’m looking down now.

           “Don’t remind me.”

           But I’m reminded.

           I’m reminded of being declared “more anemic than any living person should be” and put on an iron supplement.  An iron supplement that lands me in the hospital, nearing all kinds of organ failure.  It’s the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me.

           “You doing okay, Pidge?”

           “Hmm?  Yeah.”

           I hadn’t told him that was my nickname.

           “I know it’s a lot to take in.  But you know why I’m asking, right?”

           About the iron.  And the fair folk.  Yeah, I know.  But I’m not feeling super okay about this conversation.  I think he can tell because he starts talking about birds.

           “Do you see that?” he nods out the window.  “There’s a sparrow flying off with a whole piece of bread.”

           I really don’t care, but I appreciate the change of subject.  I suppose it’d be polite to look at this bird he’s talking about, but I’m too busy worrying Harold between my fingers.

           “Apparently I used to be really into birds, but I’m over that phase now.”

           “Want to tell me about that?”

           “I mean, there’s not much to say.  I don’t actually remember it.”  It kind of sucks to be the resident smart kid and still not remember that kind of thing.

           “What ARE your earliest memories?” Shiro asks.

           My earliest memories are kind of vague, a lot of confusion, a lot of frustration.  I usually enjoy not thinking about them.

           “Dylan,” I finally come out with.  “Some kid from school.  He gets all up in my space and he’s super touchy-feely and finally I snap at him and someone says ‘I thought you two were best friends.’  Except I don’t even KNOW this kid, he was NEVER my friend.”

           “No,” Shiro agrees.  “He was Matt’s.”

           My breath catches.  I don’t like hearing that name.

           “You’re gonna have to explain that a bit,” I glare.  The second this guy calls me Matt, I’m leaving.

           And then he says something I’ve never heard before, even though I’ve known it in the back of my head all my life.

           “You and Matt were never the same person.”

           My fingers start to coil around my backpack strap.

           “Go on...”

           “Do you know what happens when the fair folk take a liking to a human child?”

           I think I’m starting to see where this is headed.  But I want to hear the whole thing.

           “Tell me.”

           “They take it.  But they don’t just TAKE it, they leave one of their own behind.”

           Changelings.

           I must look a fright, because suddenly Shiro’s setting a cup of tea in front of me.  I didn’t even see him get up.

           “I love my parents,” I finally say.  The tea’s starting to look blurry.

           “I know you do.”

           “And they love me too.”

           “Very much so.”

           This isn’t really how I was hoping this coffee house meeting would go.  Shiro hands me a napkin.  People are probably staring, but fuck it, let them.  I’ve been stared at for every reason in the book.

           One of their own.

           There’s a whole fuckton of questions fighting their way out my mouth, to the point where I’m choking on ALL of them.  But the hardiest one survives and breaks through.

           “So, who IS my family?”

           Shiro gives me a sort of half-smile.  I would prefer both halves.

           “That’s for you to decide.  But if you’re looking for options, I know a few people who would love to meet you.”

Chapter Text

            Well, this is the address Shiro gave me.  It’s not the worst piece of housing I’ve ever seen but it’s really not the best either.

            I take a breath and hit the buzzer.

            I can hear a couple of thumps from inside.  Like, much more dramatic ones than should apply to this situation.

            And then there’s two guys through the glass.  I think I recognize them from school.

            God.

            I hope I’m in the right spot.

            “I was right, this one’s a weirdo!!!!” one of them shouts, busting open the door.  “Hunk, I was right!!!”

            He more or less tackles me.

            “Ya see, every time I pass you in the hallway, something pings on my radar and I’m like, ‘Smells like a weirdo,’ and Hunk’s like, ‘Lance, shut up,’ and I’m just like, ‘No, you KNOW I’m right,’ and now it turns out I’m right, and now we get to be best freak buds forever!!  So what kind of weirdo ARE you?”

            This is why I don’t have friends.

            “Would you… put me down?”

            He swings me inside and plunks me emphatically on the floor.

            “Come on in!”

            “Sorry about that,” Presumably Hunk says apologetically.  “My friend’s just a little excitable.”

            “YEAH, because there’s a WEIRDO here!!!!” the first kid flaps.  “You know how hard those are to find???”

            I do, actually.  If I knew any, I might actually have friends by now.

            Presumably Hunk basically pushes Lance to the side.  Lance is kind of… writhing in happiness in a way I’ve never seen before.  It’s a little scary.

            “You get used to him,” Presumably Hunk assures me, putting out his hand.  “So you must be Katie.”

            I never fuck up handshakes that someone ELSE initiates. 

            “Pidge is fine.”

            “I’m Hunk.”

            “I figured.”

            “OKAY GREAT so we’re all friends now, are you gonna hang out with us?” Lance chirrups.

            I give the hall a quick glance-over.

            “Is Shiro here?”

            “Aaaah, he’s late, but we’re gonna have fun anyway!  There’s cookies in the oven!!!”

            “Any idea when he’ll be back?”

            “Pidgey, I’m feeling so rejected right now!” Lance thumps a hand over his heart with no lack of melodrama.

            “Sorry but I really don’t know you guys.”

            “Yeah, no, I totally get it,” Hunk says, shooting a look at Lance.  “Shiro should be here soon, though, sometimes he just gets kept late at work.”

            I didn’t know door-to-door missionaries had such a demanding schedule.  Or that they got paid.

            Ultimately it’s the smell of the cookies that convinces me to stay.

            They show me down the hallway and into a small apartment. 

            “Do come in to our humble abode,” Lance flourishes, opening the door.  “Actually, we don’t live here.”

            I’m not sure ANYBODY lives here.

            The furnishing is sparse and the blinds are all drawn.  I really hope I haven’t just landed in creepsville.

            But fuck do those cookies smell amazing.

            Lance gestures grandiosely across the room.

            “That’s Keith, he’s a bloodsucker.”

            I didn’t realize anyone else was in here.

            The form I now see on the other side stirs a bit, waves with like, a finger and a half, and makes no eye contact.  I already like him more than Lance.  He’s staring down at a piece of paper but I get the sense that all his attention is on me.

            “Bloodsucker?”

            “You know, like Frankenstein!” Lance grins.  “Smile for the lady, Frank!”

            “That’s Dracula,” Hunk exhales.

            “Whatever, I didn’t read it.  How’s my essay coming, Keith?  Feeling enlightened yet?”

            Weirdo Number Three flips through the papers.

            “Not really, and your grammar needs work.”

            “Can’t now, I’m attending our new weird friend today!” Lance claps my shoulder and turns back to me.  “What kind of weirdo did you say you were again?”

            For some unfathomable reason I don’t feel super comfortable proclaiming myself a changeling to a group of strangers.

            “Uhhh…”

            I’m saved by Hunk, handing Lance a bowl of chips and one of… something I can’t see.

            “Lance, go work on your essay and stop freaking her out,” he says.

            I like Hunk more than Lance, too.

            “Don’t worry, I don’t like talking about it either,” he says as Lance sulks his way out of the kitchen.  “Shiro says you didn’t know until just now?”

            “Yeah,” I say, relaxing a bit.  “I guess it makes sense but it’s kind of hard to believe.”

            “Of course it is,” he opens the oven, prods at a cookie, and shuts it again.  “Lance outed us both to my parents and they STILL didn’t believe him.”

            Oh great.

            “That was a long time ago, it won’t happen again,” Hunk adds quickly.

            I’m still pretty fucking concerned.

            “Why would he do that?”

            Hunk shrugs.

            “We were kids, kids are dumb that way.”

            “Or maybe just HE was.”

            Hunk laughs.

            “HUNK, I can hear you, you’re not supposed to laugh at jokes like that!” Lance calls across the apartment.

            It wasn’t really a joke, but okay.

            Hunk checks a timer.  His eyes are so bright.

            “This batch is almost done, go get comfy!  And don’t take Lance too seriously.”

            It might already be too late for that.

            I’m sure Lance is a decent guy, but he reminds me a lot of people like Dylan.  People who think they have the okay to touch me because they had it for a boy named Matt.  And of course shoving them off makes you a “problem child.”  Not that I’m bitter.

            I step into the other room.

            The vampire boy steals a glance at me as I enter, then pretends he’s not looking.

            Lance has a textbook open and is popping a chip into his mouth.  Suddenly I realize that the other dish is full of raw meat chunks and that Keith is sucking on them like they’re ice cubes.

            He catches me staring.  When he speaks, I can see he’s got some pretty intense canines.

            “Uh… want any?"

            I do not.

            “Get comfy” means “join these guys on the couch,” right?  I really don’t want to get that wrong, I feel awkward enough here.

            “Pidgey-doodles, come sit with us!” Lance waves.  “We only bite SOMETIMES!”

            I bet.

            So.  Would I rather sit next to Lance, or the bowl of raw meat?

            I hope Keith doesn’t mind reaching over me.

            Lance is watching him like he’s waiting for something to happen.  I can only imagine what, but I’m glad the pressure is off ME to interact with them.  If I’d known this was a homework-friendly gathering, I’d have brought some more.

            “Wait…” Keith stops reading.

            Lance grins.  “Oh shit, he found it!”

            “You better hope your TEACHER doesn’t,” Keith scoffs, throwing the papers in Lance’s direction.

            “I’m not THAT stupid, I was gonna take it out before I handed it in!” Lance starts picking them up.

            “Too bad you didn’t LAST time,” Hunk chortles from across the way.

            “HUNK, that was our secret!”

            Keith’s shaking his head but I think he laughed just a bit.

            I’m peeking across Keith to this essay that’s finally off the floor.  All the sentences are normal until “In 1812, General Eisenhower takes Quebec and Keith wins the Motorboating a Chimpanzee Award.”

            “Eisenhower was born in 1890,” I say.  I can’t knowingly allow such an error to make it to a final draft.

            Lance cracks a smile.

            “SEE Keith, PIDGE is actually GOOD at editing papers!  You know, Pidge, that’s true about the motorboat thing.”
           

            “No, it’s not,” Keith says in utter bafflement.

            “Yep, he motorboated a chimpanzee and got knighted by Princess Jane Goodall herself.”

            “Lance… can you not?” Keith mutters.

            “Lance is on a mission to make a vampire blush,” Hunk says somewhere across the way.  Then he laughs.  “Specifically this one because we don’t know any others.”

            “He’s just lucky,” Lance finger-guns him.  “They don’t all deserve this kind of attention.”

            Keith shrinks down in a way that normally WOULD suggest someone who was blushing.

            “So… if vampires don’t have any blood flow…” I ponder.

            “Keith, be a gent and let the lady feel your pulse!”

            Keith sighs and offers me his arm.  I suspect this has happened before.

            It’s cold.  And it lacks a certain… give to it.  If you weren’t looking, you’d never know you were touching a human body.

            “Man, Pidge, no need to look so disgusted, the poor man’s ego is fragile enough!”

            “Lance, this was YOUR idea…” Keith grumbles.

            I’m squeezing so tight I must be hurting him by now.  But I can’t find a pulse anywhere.

            “You’re going to have a hard time making him blush,” I diagnose.

            This time it’s Lance who blushes.

            “Oh HO!” Hunk cheers.  “You just got SASSED!”

            That wasn’t sass, that’s just how I talk.  I get misread a lot.

            There’s a bit of clattering coming from the kitchen.

            “Lance, would you get the milk out of the fridge for me?”

            “Not now, Hunk, I’m busy!”

            I think Lance is only pretending to do homework right now.

            “I just don’t want to see a cow heart right now, okay?”

            “Oh come on, there’s totally not a cow heart in there.  Those are sheep hearts.”

            “Lance, I swear to god…” Hunk grumbles.  More clattering.

            Not so sure I actually want milk for these cookies.  And maybe I SHOULDN’T have sat next to a fucking vampire.

            “So you’re not gonna… eat me, right?” I sort of half-joke in Keith’s direction.

            He doesn’t look up and he doesn’t smile.

            “Don’t worry.  Your blood smells DISGUSTING.”

            Well THAT’S comforting.

            “It’s… probably not iron-based.”

            Lance clicks a pen for attention.

            “I’m gonna pretend I know what you’re talking about, Pidge.  But since you’re sounding all smart and stuff, can you help me with this math problem?”

            He gets between me and the meat cubes and hands me a paper.  I would say these errors he’s made are obvious, but maybe I’m not a normal litmus to base that against.

            “That’s cosecant, not cosine,” I point to the first one I see.  He picks it up and marks it.

            “You hear that, Hunk?  You just got REPLACED!”

            Hunk comes in with the cookies, sans milk.

            “What’s that, Lance?  You didn’t actually WANT any of these?”

            “I never said that, you goatface!  Where are you going??”

            Hunk offers me the first cookie.

            “Careful, they’re still cooling.”

            I am, of course, a pretty fearless cookie-eater.

            “I’ve been burned worse than that.”

            It’s a damn good cookie.  Wouldn’t mind a bit of milk, but you can’t have everything.

            Keith doesn’t take a cookie, but he does look a little dejectedly at the meat bowl that is now two people away.  The couch doesn’t look like it’s designed for four, so when Hunk joins us the chumminess goes up by a factor of ten.

            Lance says something through a mouthful of cookie.

            “So, you think *I* suck at school, Keith’s been playing hooky for like, a year!”

            “Seriously?”

            Keith shifts a bit.

            “Eh… I haven’t been in a while…” he mumbles.

            “Yep, his entire education is now thanks to Auntie Lance!  And Hunk.”

            “And Shiro,” Keith says.

            “Oh, come on, I don’t need THAT kind of competition,” Lance pouts.

            “Sounds like you already have it, if Pidge is replacing ME,” Hunk snorts. 

            “No!  Pidge is MY personal tutor and I’m not sharing her!” Lance says, bear-hugging me.

            I push him off gently.  And, surprisingly, there’s a tiny laugh in me.  I’ve never been the first pick for ANYTHING.

            “So, Pidgey-pie,” Lance reaches for two more cookies and hands me one, “On a scale of one to Keith, how dangerous are you?”

            “I… don’t actually think I’m dangerous,” I say.

            “Yeah, me either, I’m like a two,” Lance says.

            Hunk scoffs.

            “Lance, you are more than a two.”

            “No way, I’m a solid ‘one’ for twenty-nine out of thirty days.  It’s called ‘taking an average.’”

            Hunk rolls his eyes.

            “What about Shiro?” I ask.

            Three answers come at the same time.

            “Zero.”

            “Eleven.”

            “It depends.”

            There’s a sound at the door and everyone looks up.  They’ve all got this look about them, like a bunch of dogs waiting for somebody important.

            The door opens and Shiro steps through.

            “Sorry I’m late, got tied up at work.”  He gives me a nod.  “Pidge, I’m glad you could make it.  Sorry to keep you waiting.”

            “It’s fine, the cookies are great.”

            Everyone else looks a little grimmer than I do.

            “Bad accident?” Hunk asks Shiro.

            “Pretty bad.”

            “Did you bring anything for this guy?” Lance thumbs at Keith.

            “Lance…” Shiro warns.  Out of the corner of my eye I see Hunk gagging and running off.

            Finally someone notices how confused I am.

            “Shiro’s a paramedic,” Lance says.  “He’s also great at forging documents.”

            Somehow I’m not surprised.  I like paramedics, they’re good people.  Wonder if we’ve met before.

            “It’s not fair,” Lance goes on, “He’ll draw himself up any identity or certification, but he STILL won’t write my essays for me.”

            “Lance, you are more than capable of writing your own essays,” Shiro says.

            “See, that’s Shiro’s fatal flaw, he believes in people too much,” Lance whispers loudly to me.

            “Or maybe just you,” Keith jabs.

            “Hey!  Shut up, goatface!”

            “I see none of you can cool it for our new friend,” Shiro says.  He doesn’t say it nastily but everyone looks guilty all of a sudden.

            “I mean, do we really want to falsely advertise ourselves?” Lance peeps.

            “No, it’s okay,” I jump in.  “I kind of like it here.”

            Did I really just say that?

            But I guess it was a good thing to say because everyone looks pleased by it.  Well.  Hunk’s still not back yet.  But, it’s a strange feeling, making all these people happy in this piece of shit apartment on this piece of shit couch.  They keep calling me their friend…

            The only friends I’ve ever had have been Matt’s, reassigned to me.  And I don’t talk to any of them anymore.  Maybe it’s time I pick up a couple of my own.

            Lance gives me a side-hug and another cookie.

Chapter Text

            My phone’s buzzing.  It’s not a number that I recognize.

            No one ever calls me.  Whatever it is, it’s probably important.

            “Hello?”

            “Pidgeyyyy,” singsongs a voice on the other end.  It takes me a moment.

            “Lance?”

            “Pidge, Hunk and I are going to the movies and KEITH’S NOT INVITED,” and then somewhere in the background, “Dude, I can hear you.”

            Lance picks back up with a grin in his voice.  “You want to be our third?”

            I’d be more inclined to say yes if Hunk were the one asking.  Or Keith.  But he’s not invited.

            “What are you seeing?”

            “Does it matter?  Just come hang out with us!”

            I guess I at least have to give Lance a point for being nice to me even though I’m not good friendship material. 

            “Why isn’t Keith invited?”

            “Pidgey-pie, don’t you want to spend an afternoon with your auntie Lance and Hunk?  We need to get to know each other better!”

            That really doesn’t answer my question.  But suddenly I realize it’s still daytime.

            “You’re really dying to see this movie, huh?”

            “Hey, look, if you’d rather do something else, that’s fine…”

            “No, it’s cool.  I need a ride, though.”

            “Say no more, Pidgey-pie.  Except your address.”

            Did I really just agree to that?  That was almost an accident.

            Well, this is gonna be a first.  I start to compose a note for my parents.  I don’t think I should be more specific than “be back in a couple hours.”  All the better if I’m back before they are.

            I give my hitch a short inspection before Lance gets here.  Harold’s right where he should be, Linda the dishrag is under a few things so I dig her out. 

            I think about it for a second and add another dishrag to my stuff.  I’m not used to packing for spontaneous events like these.

            Spare key.  Probably should take one of those, too.

            “Don’t be a jerk while I’m gone,” I tell Gunther as he prowls past me.  I’m sure he won’t, he’s more of a jerk when I’m around than when I’m not. 

            A car pulls up on the street and it’s… not my parents.  I hope they don’t ask too many questions when they get back.

            Yep, that’s Lance and Hunk.  Hunk’s been nice enough to leave me shotgun.

            I open the door with Linda in one hand and the unnamed dishcloth in the other.  It’s kind of hard to be taken seriously when that’s how you live your life.

            “Hey, Pidgey-doodles!” Lance warbles, not taking me seriously.  “I swear the car’s not THAT dirty.”

            Maybe not but it’s still a piece of junk.   

            “I get burned by iron, remember?”

            “Of course I remember, Pidge, it was a joke.”

            Was it?  I’m really bad at jokes.

            I fasten the seatbelt with Linda and her friend.  I’m starting to wonder if I don’t actually have OCD about the things I touch, but of course there’s really not a shrink in the world I can argue that to.

            “So, Pidge, you ever sneak into an R rated movie before?” Lance pulls away.

            “Wait, what?  How are we going to do that?”

            “Simple.  We buy tickets for a kids’ movie, hide in the bathroom for ten minutes, and then go to OUR movie.”

            My parents will be happy to know I’m keeping such wholesome company.

            “What IS our movie?”

            “Attack on the Midnight Sorority!”

            Oh.  I’ve seen ads for that.  This is going to be a titties movie.

            “So, you couldn’t have waited a couple more hours so Keith could come too?”

            Lance jerks at the wheel and I can hear a minor complaint from Hunk in the back.

            “That little manwhore will find SOME way to entertain himself until we get back.  Besides, the tagline is ‘The hunter becomes the hunted’ so you know it’s gonna be good!”

            “Is that really what you base your movie choices off of?”

            “Don’t even question it,” Hunk mutters, hand on his face.

            But of course I AM questioning it.  That’s a weird fixation, I wonder if Lance is autistic too.  I mean, I really doubt it, but that would sure be something…

            I suppose it falls more to the “quirky” side of the line, while me and my autistic traits tend to extend into “unpalatable.”

            Maybe it’s ADHD.  Maybe that’s why, for all he is friendly and outgoing, I don’t really see him hanging out with normal humans, either.

            A hyperfixation on movie taglines sounds a bit more characteristic of autism than ADHD, but combined with his aggressively social behavior–

            “Man, Pidge, what’s THAT look?”

            “Do you have ADHD?”

            I hate when I say things like that without thinking.

            But Lance looks surprisingly pensive.

            “Probably, if you think so.  I haven’t been tested or anything.”

            I guess not everybody’s parents are quite as obsessed with brain science as mine.

            Lance seems entertained, though.

            “Do Hunk next, what’s Hunk got??”

            “Um…”

            I really wasn’t prepared for this to go so far.

            “No, really, it’s okay,” Hunk saves me.  “Just drive.”

            I’ll put Hunk’s disorders on the back burner.  I’m sure the guy has some.

            The car stops and we enter the theater.  I’m starting to think Hunk disapproves of Lance’s driving.

            “Three for the Care Bears movie,” Lance says to the ticket lady.

            I can feel her eyes sizing me up.

            “Adults or kids?”

            “Two werewolves and a fairy,” Lance finger-guns at her.  I think Hunk is facepalming.

            “Okay,” the ticket lady laughs.  “Kids, then.”

            I start shuffling out some bills, but Lance lightly slaps my hand away.

            “No no no, Pidgey, I’ve got this.  Hunk, you’re on your own.”

            Hunk snorts.

            “I had a feeling.”

            “He’s my best friend, I can do that to him,” Lance says to me.

            “Then maybe that’s an honor I don’t want,” I joke.

            Lance fake-swoons.  “Pidge, you are a fucking SAVAGE.”

            “Hey, language!” Hunk puts his hands over my ears.  “We’re just kids, remember?”

            He’s pretending to look distraught but I think he’s having fun.  I can’t help laughing a little bit, too.

            “Pidge, you need popcorn or anything?” Lance asks.

            “No, I’m fine.”

            “Well I’M not.”

            I leave them to their popcorn, hand over my stub, and shoulder open the bathroom door.

            This isn’t a theater I frequent but I’m glad to see the faucets are automatic.  I might be the only person in the world who actually appreciates that.  And, I’m not gonna lie, I’m fucking cute today.  Maybe it IS true that happy people are the cutest ones.

            It’s not been ten minutes yet when a girl accosts me from out of a stall.

            “Oh thank god, do you have a tampon?”

            I shake my head.  I don’t want her to hear my voice.

            She runs out of the bathroom.

            Damn.

            I had been feeling pleasantly un-dysphoric before this.  Fuck the plan, I’m not staying in this bathroom for ten minutes.  I hope our movie’s entertaining enough to get my mind off it.

            I dishrag the door open just in time to see Hunk handing the girl a tampon.  She looks surprised but probably not nearly as surprised as me.  Quite suddenly this moment might be sucking a bit less.

            My heart’s pounding when I reach them.  Fuck the plan, it was stupid in the first place, and I have to know.

            “Hey, Pidge, that was a quick ten minutes,” Lance says.

            “Yeah, I know.”  I turn to Hunk.  “Why do you carry tampons?” 

            There was probably a better way to ask that.

            He gestures in the direction of the girl heading off.

            “For whoever needs them.”

            Okay, not quite the camaraderie I was hoping for, but that’s still really sweet of him.  I’d be lying to say I’m not a little bit let down, though.

            “So you’re the tampon fairy,” I muse.

            “He’s not the fairy here, YOU are,” Lance jabs.  “By the way, Pidge, are you friends with the tooth fairy?  Because I have some beef to settle with her.”

            Hunk rolls his eyes in a “not this again” sort of way.

            “Lance, I’m pretty sure the tooth fairy’s not real.”

            It kills me that I can only be “pretty sure” and not “totally sure” anymore.

            “Well if she IS real, she stiffed me for an entire half of my mouth and I’m still not over it!  You know what my mom called it?  ‘Exchange rate!’  You know what would have happened if I’d invested that money???”

            “Nothing, it was probably, like, a dollar.”

            “THAT’S NOT THE POINT!  That’s like an eye from your FACE when you’re a kid!”

            I fish a crinkled dollar bill out of my pocket.

            “Here, I’ll be your tooth fairy.  Buy some gum.”

            “No, no, no, Pidge, I only want it from that nasty elbow of a woman who ripped me off!”

            “Lance, that was probably your mom.”

            “DON’T TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER LIKE THAT!”

            “Well, she probably IS cheap, seeing as she didn’t spring for your psych eval, either,” I snort.

            Oh shit.

            That was supposed to be funny but I don’t think he took it that way.  Even Hunk looks mildly horrified.

            This is why I don’t tell jokes.

            “Yeah, sure, fine,” Lance shoves his hands into his pockets.  It does not sound fine.

            “Uh, guys, how about we just get in before the show starts?” Hunk says.  I wish he hadn’t said anything because now it feels too awkward to go back and apologize.  I really hate interacting with people.

            I wonder if they’d hate me less if they knew I was autistic.  Part of me almost hopes that Shiro has told them.

            The rest of me hopes this is a damn good movie because suddenly there are a lot of things I want to not think about.

            It’ll help if I don’t have to sit next to Lance.

            I’m sitting next to Lance and I’m having a hard time enjoying the movie.  Seems all the explosions and naked people in the world can’t distract me from how bad of a friend I am.

            Shit, is Lance’s mom DEAD?  Did I just make a joke about a dead woman?  No wonder I don’t have any friends.

            She’s either dead or doesn’t care about him enough to take him to a psychiatrist.  Or maybe they can’t afford it.  Now I feel like shit for letting him buy my ticket.

            I’m really not enjoying this movie.  Seems like Hunk isn’t, either.

            “Lance, you said this movie wasn’t gonna have any blood!”

            “Okay well I didn’t actually SEE it yet…”

            I’m okay watching movies with blood.  It’s only in real life that the smell makes me sick.

            But that’s not why I’m upset.  Fuck it, I’m going outside for a bit.  I hope Lance doesn’t think it’s because his movie choice has offended me.

            In the light of the hallway, I take out my phone.  I don’t have a shitload of contacts, so Shiro’s number doesn’t take much scrolling to find.

            I don’t even know what to say to him, I just want to talk.

            My fingers are typing something for me.

            Is the tooth fairy real?

            That’s officially the stupidest text I have ever sent.

            I can hear the shrieking of the film through the wall, the girls are either getting murdered or fucking each other silly.

            I wonder if Matt would have gone to this kind of movie if he were still here.  Maybe in some ways I’m an improvement.

            My phone buzzes with a wall of text that should have taken a lot longer to type with one hand.  Maybe he got Keith to do it.

            It says the fairy who earned that name has been dead for decades, but people were so amused by her fascination with teeth that they’ve been replicating her game ever since.  He even tells me her name.

            A special interest in human teeth.  He really wasn’t kidding about autistic fairies.   

            I wonder if other fairies have a hard time keeping friends.

            I text Shiro again.

            I think I’ve offended Lance.

            He tells me not to worry about it.

            I know Shiro wouldn’t say something he didn’t mean.  It’s a lot easier to enjoy the movie upon returning.

            “Where’d you go, Pidge?” Lance greets me.  “You missed the boobs!”

            More of them?

            I steal a fistful of popcorn.

            “I was just on the phone with the tooth fairy.  She says werewolf teeth are harder to sell on the black market than human teeth, so she had to cut costs somewhere.”

            “Ay, Dios mío.”

            The rest of the movie’s actually pretty funny.  But Hunk has already left us for the Care Bears flick.

Chapter Text

            “Going out again, Katie?” my mom asks as I cram a few more things into my backpack.

            “Uh, yeah,” I say.  Suddenly I’m trying to look a bit less suspicious.  It’s probably not working.

            “You’ve been out of the house a lot lately.  Where are you always going?”

            I knew it was going to come to this at some point.  Probably should have come up with a decent alibi in advance.

            “To…”  Saying something school-related runs the risk of her trying to verify it with a teacher.  “Hang out with…”  And I can’t really say with who.

            Oh god, here it comes.  “My boyfriend.”

            “You want me to WHAT?” Lance shouts over the phone.

            I can’t fucking believe this either.

            “Just for tonight and hopefully never again,” I grumble.  It’s a plan so simple not even Lance can fuck it up.  It’s ME I’m worried about not pulling it off.  “Just pretend to be my boyfriend when you come pick me up.”

            “So, is this our first date, or have we been serious for a while?” Lance asks.

            “I don’t fucking know, just act like you like me or something!”

            “Pidgey, I can’t believe you think so little of our relationship!”

            “Holy shit, Lance, it’s not a relationship, it’s a cover story.”

            “Don’t lie, Pidge, you think I have pretty eyes.”

            “Lance, believe me, I don’t like this any more than you do.”

            “Hey, who said I didn’t like this?  And I DO have pretty eyes.”

            “Yes, your eyes are very pretty.  Now can I count on you to help me out?”

            “Pidge, you can do more than count on me.  This is going to be the best date EITHER of us has ever had!”

            “For your sake, I hope not,” I say.

            “No, it will,” Lance says glumly.

            “Well, then, we’ll have to fix that later.”  Though I don’t think I’m the best person to enlist for help.  I probably should have volunteered Hunk instead.

            This means, of course, that I should act like I’m actually getting ready for a date.  God, what do people do for those?  Makeup and shit?  I don’t have any.  Cute outfits?  I’m not even a cute PERSON.  Do people ever go on dates where they hang out and do homework?  That sounds like something I could do convincingly.  I stuff an extra book into my backpack.

            I hope Lance shows up soon because I’m feeling really on edge right now.  My mom follows me to the door.

            “Hold on, honey.”  She tucks something into the side pocket of my backpack.  Pretty sure I already know what it is.  “Whatever you’re doing, we want you to do it safely.”

            You can’t say they’re not good parents.

            I bet Matt would have been one well-adjusted kid if he were still here.

            “So, how did you meet this boy?” my mom asks.

            Hurry up, Lance, this conversation might go south at any moment.

            “Uh, you know, at school.”

            “Do you have any classes with him?”

            “No.  We met at… recess.”

            Shit.

            My mom chuckles.

            “I’m sure he’s a lovely boy.  What’s his name?”

            The doorbell rings with my salvation.

            “Good evening, milady,” Lance flourishes.  “Come to trip the light fantastic?” 

            He’s got flowers and a bowtie.  I’m in a t-shirt.  There’s probably a reason I don’t go on dates.

            “And you must be the radiant Mrs. Holt!” Lance takes my mom’s hand and kisses it.  Maybe I was wrong about him being an inconspicuous fake boyfriend.

            My mom laughs.  “I am.  And you are?”

            “Who am I?  I’m your daughter’s handsome boyfriend from trigonometry!  Surely she’s told you all about me!”

            “His name is Lance,” I fill in.  God, Lance, shut up before you blow this.

            “Lance, then,” my mom nods.  “Where will you two be going tonight?”

            “We’re going to play a very romantic game of laser tag,” Lance says.

            “Yup.  Very romantic.”  I don’t think my face is selling this.

            Gunther’s come over to sniff Lance’s hand.

            It’s funny, Lance totally strikes me as a dog person, but he doesn’t put his hand out or anything.  He actually looks kind of scared.

            “It’s okay, he’s friendly,” my mom says.

            Lance hesitantly reaches out.

            “Last time I tried to pet a strange dog, it turned out to be a werewolf.”

            My mom laughs.  I am doing the opposite of laughing.

            “Well, I hope that didn’t end too badly,” she says.

            “Oh, no, it’s totally fine,” Lance says.  “I mean, I had a couple of stitches, but I haven’t bitten THAT many people.”

            My mom seems to think he’s a joy.  I am nothing short of mortified.

            Gunther’s on the same page as my mom and gives Lance a lick.

            “Well, it looks like Gunther approves of you,” my mom says.

            Fucking dog hasn’t been nice to me ONCE and yet he already likes Lance.  I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that.

            “Guess I’ll stop embarrassing you now,” my mom says.  “You two have a good time, and call me if you need anything.”

            I think I’m embarrassing MYSELF more than anything.  But it doesn’t un-fluster me that Lance ushers me into the car like a damn servant.

            “You won’t regret this lovely outing I have planned, milady.”

            “Okay you can stop now, Lance.”

            He doesn’t.

            “I know not what wondrous words I’ve spoken to reach milady’s heart, but- ”

            “Well I WOULD have picked Keith, since he’s closer to my age, but I can’t really ask him to come out in the daytime, and of course, you have access to a car.”

            Lance slams the door.

            “Thanks, I’m flattered.”

            “I mean, at least it worked.  Flowers weren’t a bad idea.”

            “Actually, those were Hunk’s idea.”

            “Well, my mom sends YOU a gift, too.”

            I reach around and hand him the pack of condoms.  Finally I’m not the only one who’s flustered around here.

            “Holy crow… looks like your mom had more plans for this date than *I* did.”

            “Yeah, what ARE the plans for tonight, anyway?”

            “Laser tag, weren’t you listening?”

            “I thought you just made that up.”

            “Well, Shiro figured we should all go out and do something fun tonight.  You know, since we’re not doing that TOMORROW night.”

            Tomorrow night’s the full moon.

            “So does that mean Keith’s coming, too?”

            “Yeah, we’re going out after dark.  Can’t believe your mom didn’t say when to be home.”

            Yeah, me either.  I wonder if Matt would have abused that privilege if he were here.

            For some reason, thinking of Matt makes me sad.

            “So.  Where did you learn to tie a bowtie?”

            “Oh,” Lance blushes, “my mom did that, actually.”

            “Wait, you told her about this?”

            “Yeah?  You told YOUR mom.”

            I have no response to that.  At least now I know his mom’s not dead.

            “She’s so excited for me,” Lance says with a twinkle.  “Course, she just wants me to hurry up on the grandkids.  Not that that’s first date material, milady.”

            Not that that’s dating ME material, period.

            For a while, we’re driving in silence.  It strikes me that for all that Lance never shuts up, I’ve never had an actual one-on-one with him.  I should probably take advantage of this opportunity, but I don’t know what I ought to say.  Fortunately, he says something first.

            “Keith’s actually a bit older than he looks.”

            Right.

            “By how much?”

            Lance shrugs.  Ruminatively.

            “Hey Pidge, do you remember that freaky news story from last year?  With the body in four pieces and blood on its face?”

            Hard to forget THAT one.

            “Where did THIS come from?”

            “Just wondering.”

            You don’t JUST WONDER something like that. 

            “Did KEITH do that???”

            “No, no, I was just wondering…”

            I’m a little unsettled about this fake date.

            But I know something that makes me feel less unsettled.  It’s Shiro.

            “So how did you meet Shiro?” I ask.

            Lance sits back with a smile.  Seems Shiro has that effect on everybody.

            “Probably the same way you did.  Course, my family had him so swamped he almost didn’t get the note to me.”

            “So your parents actually TALK to door-to-door missionaries?”

            I hope I’m not dealing with Christians here.

            “TALK?  Heck, my mom invited him in for cake!”

            Oh, great.

            “Shiro doesn’t actually BELIEVE that stuff, does he?”

            “Well…” Lance hems, “not in the way most people do.  He isn’t serious about the pamphlet thing, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

            “I sure hope not, because the one he gave me was horrifying.”

            “Yeah, mine too.  Did you get the one where the kid gets beaten to death?”

            Holy fuck.  What the hell is wrong with Christians?  I sure hope Hunk didn’t get a booklet like that.

            I guess I shouldn’t berate Christianity around Lance too much, but it’s kind of a defense mechanism at this point.  Have I seriously been friends with a Christian this whole time?  A Christian who hasn’t once told me that my body embarrasses their Good Lord Jesus?  Man.  I actually want to know more about this.

            “So, do you, like… go to church and stuff?” I ask.

            “Not since I learned I’m going to Hell.”

            I’m really not sure if that’s a joke or not.

            “Is that a joke?”

            “Eh...”

            “I really don’t think being gay makes you go to Hell.”

            “SCUSE me Pidge, does this date LOOK gay to you?”

            “This isn’t a real date.”

            “But I put on a REAL bowtie and everything!”  Then he looks out the window.  “I’m not gay.”

            I have a few items of counter-evidence, but something tells me to hold my tongue.  The idea of going to Hell never hit me very close to home, but I guess if it ever had, it would feel pretty awful.

            “Do fairies have an afterlife?” Lance asks me after a moment.

            “I don’t even think HUMANS do.”

            “Well, werewolves don’t, that’s for sure.”

            “How do you know that?”

            “Shiro.”

            Hmm.  If Shiro told me something I thought was ground-shattering and impossible, I’d probably believe it too.

            “How does SHIRO know all this stuff, anyway?”

            “He’s…” Lance hums for a moment.  “Well, you should probably ask HIM and not me.”  There’s a short pause.  “Have you SEEN those scars?”

            Scars, plural?  Like, besides the obvious one?

            “What, his arm?”

            Lance claps a hand to his mouth.

            “Nope, never mind then.”

            He looks like he’s dying to talk about it but, for once, won’t.

            “You know, I really shouldn’t be talking about Shiro behind his back, but if you want to know any of HUNK’S secrets, I’m his best friend so those are mine to tell.”

            “Duly noted.”

            Somehow I don’t think Hunk has any secrets I could possibly be interested in.

            “How about Keith’s?”

            Lance sighs.

            “I’m worried about that kid.”

            “Really?  Why?”

            “Because he’s too afraid of making friends that are just going to die out from under him.  But what’s the point of living forever if you’re just going to be lonely the whole time?  And yeah he’s got Shiro, but… things that aren’t permanent can be important, too.”

            He looks like he’s trying to convince himself of this.

            I feel like I’ve stumbled into a very bad place in the heart of Lance McClain.

            “Lance… do you, like… need a hug or something?”

            “At the next light.”

            I hug him at the next light.

            “Thanks, Pidge.  Like I always say, nobody should be alone.”

            I don’t even know which of us we’re talking about anymore.

Chapter Text

            They’re passing the time until sundown.  Hunk’s already making full use of the kitchen.

            “Pidge, would you do me the honor of Fridgemastering tonight?”

            “Hunk, you can’t just steal my date like that!” Lance pouts.  “Use Keith, he’s single!”

            “And WHO thought of the flowers?” Hunk raises my hand with the bouquet.

            “Oh, *I* see how it is!  Excuse me while I go cry.”  Lance saunters off.

            Hunk’s laughing and I decide it’s safe to laugh, too.

            “Sorry if I’m just the better romantic, Lance!” Hunk calls.

            “Yeah, well Pidge’s MOM is a better romantic than ALL of us!” comes the reply.

            If I had been a vampire, Lance would have succeeded at making one blush.

            “So, how about it, Fridgemaster?” Hunk asks me.

            “Sure,” I say.  “What do you need?”

            “Just eggs and butter right now.”

            “Roger that.”

            The fridge has more hearts than a deck of cards.  This isn’t the first time I’ve been Fridgemaster.

            “So what’s this gonna be?” I ask as I move a shrink-wrapped heart off the eggs.

            “A surprise!” Hunk ties his apron.

            I was just asking to be polite, these are totally gonna be brownies.  Apparently that’s how small talk works.

            “Well, it had better be worth abandoning my date over,” I snort.  I know it will be.

            Hunk salutes.

            “Pidge, my revered Fridgemaster, you have my word on it.”

            It’s fun to cheat on Lance.

            “Besides,” Hunk says loudly, “Maybe LANCE would get to lick the bowl once in a while if he weren’t such a TERRIBLE Fridgemaster!”

            “Don’t tease me, Hunk, I’m still crying,” Lance calls.

            I’ve heard the legends of Fridgemaster Lance.  The best one is where Hunk dropped a tray straight out of the oven because he didn’t know a pig heart somehow manifested on top of it while it was baking.  Lance denies all accountability, but I’ve pretty much replaced him as Fridgemaster.

            I can hear Lance talking.  He seems to have forgotten he’s supposed to be upset about our date.

            “Yeah, you should have seen me,” he goes.  “I must have tagged out, like, ten guys.”  Not sure if that’s a boast about a recent gym class or the LAST time they played laser tag.

            “He did NOT do that,” Hunk says to me.

            “Yeah, I bet,” I say.  I step out of the kitchen.  “Give me a second to set the record straight.”

            I’m not that surprised to walk in on Lance leaning against Keith while he tells his grandiose tale.  I can’t tell if Keith looks annoyed or not.

            “Hey Keith, you’re blushing!” Lance grins.

            “What?  No I’m not.”

            “Yes you are!!!  Check it out!”

            Lance pulls him in for a selfie.

            “See?” he shows him.

            Keith snorts and pushes him away.  But like.  Nicely.

            “What the hell, Lance?” I say.  “I thought tonight was OUR date.”

            The both of them look up at me.

            “Yeah, and then you started cheating on me with Hunk, so I’m only responding in kind,” Lance says.

            “And I’m sure Keith likes knowing he’s your SECOND choice for tonight.”

            “Oh yeah???” Lance throws an arm around him.  “Well, me and him are gonna TROUNCE your ass at laser tag, you wanton hussy!”

            “Not if I get Shiro on my team,” I can’t help but smirk.

            “SHIRO DON’T LISTEN TO HER!” Lance shouts.

            “Sorry, Lance,” Shiro says from the other room.  “She already called dibs.”

            “NO SHE DIDN’T, SHE DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT WE WERE DOING UNTIL I TOLD HER!”

            I would laugh at that if it didn’t hurt my ears so much.  I think maybe Lance noticed, he shuts up a bit.

            Keith yawns.  It’s terrifying.

            Jeez.  Is it really a great idea to let him be seen in public?

            “So… you’re not worried about…?”

            I can’t really finish that sentence.

            “Of course Keith’s not worried,” Lance says, tugging something out of Keith’s pocket and giving it a twirl.  “He’s allergic to everything under the sun!”

            “Hey!  Give that back!” Keith snatches it away.

            It’s a gauze mask.  I guess they’ve been doing this long enough to have it all figured out.

            “No one questions the allergies of such a pasty little boy,” Lance says, pinching Keith on the cheek.  “Except the people who think he’s actively dying.  By the way, if anyone offers to call 911, the response is ‘Polite Refusal.’”

            I’m better at straight-up refusals.  Looks like Keith might be, too, he’s pushing Lance away and hiding his face.

            Is that a condom balloon?

            Lance kicks it.

            “We should go out and do fun stuff more often, fuck waiting for that time of the month!”

            I never tell him, but that joke always makes me a little dysphoric.

            “I’m gonna go… open the fridge,” I excuse myself.

            The sun’s just about down now, but we’re not leaving till it’s a bit darker.  Safety first.

            “Fridgemaster, test the batter?” Hunk holds the bowl out to me.

            It’s stainless steel.  This will be a job for Harold.  I don’t actually remember when Harold’s last bath was… but what Hunk doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

            Harold’s right where he should be.  It’s hard to refrain from fondling his head but I don’t want to give Hunk MORE reason to regret this.

            I dunk Harold in headfirst, but the bowl drops and I’m startled enough to let go.

            It hasn’t touched me, I’m not burned, but it clatters on top of Harold and snaps him.

            I won’t pretend I’m not upset.

            “Harold…”

            But when I reach to pick him up, I don’t even get that far.

            Something makes me look back up at Hunk, like a sixth sense I didn’t know I had, or maybe it’s just pure, untethered instinct realizing something’s off.

            Holy shit.

            He’s turning.

            It’s fucking grotesque, it’s not something you EVER want to see happen to a human body, you can see that it hurts.  But honestly I’m more worried about me than him right now.

            This thing… it’s fucking huge.  Huge and black, with a baboon kind of hunch.  The clothing that wasn’t already torn gets ripped off by its teeth.

            The noise is guttural and obscene.  In the other room I catch a glimpse of a tawny mass choking on a bowtie.

            But the one in here is growling.  It’s righted itself, it’s staring at me, mouth slathering something awful.

            It’s between me and the door and I’m too scared to get up.

            That big, ugly snout comes toward me.  I can feel the hot air coming out, I would smell it too if I were still breathing.

            Fuck.

            Then the wolf’s head slams into the cabinet beside me, followed by a fist.  The sound makes me jump, and suddenly there’s Keith, sucker-punching the wolf all the way across the floor.

            Its face is bleeding.  Keith is standing in front of me, shaking, ready to hit it again.

            “Shiro!”

            A door slams somewhere, followed by some horrendous yowling.  And then Shiro is in the kitchen, strong-arming the black wolf out of the room.  It’s snapping, fuck, I think it bit him.

            Another door slam.  Two wolves bellowing.  One in the bedroom, one in the bathroom.  They sound so angry.

            “Pidge,” Keith turns to me, fists still clenched, “Are you okay?”

            I can’t even answer.  Shit, have I gone nonverbal?  That’s only ever happened once before.  There’s too much noise, my heart is convulsing, the smell of the blood is making me lightheaded.

            And then I see what it’s doing to Keith.

            A look of dread falls over him, he just drops to the ground, holding himself like he’s tearing at the seams.

            “F-fuck…”

            When he looks back up, there’s this darkness about his eyes.  I want to call for Shiro, but it’s like a bad dream where my throat won’t work.

            Keith swipes a finger across the floor, licks it off, crawls up to me like a fucking animal.

            “You’ll do.”

            His hand is cold when he twists my head.

            I am gonna fucking die tonight.

            I bet Matt wouldn’t have gotten himself into something stupid like this.

            The hand pulls off, Keith’s being yanked away by the collar.  It’s Shiro, he kicks the glass out of the window, and I can now say I’ve witnessed an honest-to-god defenestration.

            “Don’t come in,” he says as Keith hits the ground outside.

            “Come ON!” Keith jumps up, shouting.  There’s something horrible in his eyes.  He pounds on the window frame, splinters and glass fly out.

            “I’ll let you back in later,” Shiro says calmly.  The frame is coming apart.  Keith looks desperate.

            “You KNOW me, I’m not gonna do anything, please let me in!”

            Shiro turns to me and asks if I’m all right.

            “I’m SORRY, okay!!” Keith sobs from outside.  “I’m sorry I ruined your life and I’m sorry that you hate me!!!”

            “Keith, I don’t hate you.  I just need you to calm down.”

            The sound is infernal.  That’s not a word I would normally use for ANYTHING, but this is fucking INFERNAL.  It’s about the sound a pterodactyl would make if you threw it in a spitting grease fire.

            I wonder what the neighbors think we’re doing.

            “Here,” Shiro tosses a sheep heart out the window.

            “I don’t WANT this!” Keith whips it right back.  There are several sounds one never wants to hear and one of them is that of a heart splatting against the kitchen wall.  “You don’t know what it’s LIKE,” he sobs.  “I’ve never been happy and I’m never GOING to be!  You should have just let me die!”

            Shiro’s not saying anything but I think it’s getting to him.

            There’s a muffled crash from the bathroom.  The mirror, the medicine cabinet.

            Keith looks from Shiro to the blood to me.

            “Pidge, tell me I can come in.”

            “Don’t, he’s not okay yet,” Shiro says.

            “I thought we were friends!” Keith says to me.  “Who are you gonna have when everyone’s old and dead?  It’s Shiro and it’s me, that’s it, no one else.  Are you really gonna treat me like this NOW?  What about when I’m your only friend in the whole fucking world?  You’ll be sorry THEN!”

            “Keith, that’s enough,” Shiro says.

            “FINE!  I’m glad you BOTH hate me and you’ll both hate me until the sun fucking explodes!”

            “No one hates you, Keith.”

            “But you’ll let me starve... I just want what’s on the floor… if you don’t hate me, how come you don’t TRUST me?”

            He’s quieter now, sounds more sad than violent.  How long is it gonna take for him to calm down?

            “Keith, this isn’t about trust.”

            “Well it serves me right for trusting YOU!  You didn’t keep me off the streets, and you sure as fuck didn’t keep me from DYING!  How the fuck did I land someone like YOU?”

            Shiro punches the wall.

            “Keith!  Shut up!”

            I gotta get the fuck out of here.

            Shiro turns toward me, and I’ll never not be ashamed for flinching.

            “Pidge…” he breathes.  “I’m sorry but I’m gonna have to call you a cab.”

            I won’t ask him not to.

            Before he pulls his phone out, he slips something over my neck.  I don’t know what it is, I’m trying to get as far as I can from the window, from the rattling doors, there really isn’t anywhere left to go in this small apartment.

            I don’t really register Shiro calling the cab, only that he starts mopping the blood off the floor while Keith begs him not to.  Blood, raw brownies, cloth, and Harold.  The barking is so loud and I’m not sure this place allows pets.

            When Shiro’s phone rings with the cab, he slips a twenty into my hand.

            “The cab is three houses down on the left.  I’m sorry about Harold.”

            I wish he wouldn’t keep knowing things like that.

            I grab the remains of my stuff and run.  I don’t think he’d send me outside if he thought Keith would hurt me, but I’m still running.  I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to think about anything.

            “Ow!  Fuck!”

            I was too shaken up to remember a dishrag for the car door.

            When I get in I try to remember to breathe.  I give the cabbie my address but even if he took me straight to Hell I wouldn’t notice.

            Nobody wanted me to see that.

            I want Harold back.  I want to rub him between my fingers.  My hand moves to the thing around my neck instead.  It’s a cross, some kind of metal that’s not burning me.  Possibly silver.

            Maybe I should ALWAYS wear this to Shiro’s place.

            It’s no Harold but the little nooks feel kind of nice under my thumb.  Remembering to breathe.

            I’m okay, I’m not hurt, Shiro’s gonna be okay, everyone’s gonna be okay.

            How badly did he get bitten?

            No, he’s gonna be okay.

            My phone rings.

            It’s Lance’s number, but it can’t be him on the other end.

            “Hey Pidge!”

            It is, in fact, Lance, sounding way too happy.

            “Lance?”

            “Yeah, I know, funny right?  Hunk’s back to normal too.”

            “What’s even going on?  I thought the full moon wasn’t until tomorrow.”

            “It’s not.  Shiro says there was probably some kind of magical interference.”

            Magical interference.  Like from a child of the fair folk?

            “Can I talk to him?”

            “Eh, I don’t know,” his voice loses a shade of exuberance.  “He’s trying to calm down Keith right now.”

            God.  That’s gotta be pretty ugly.  We could have been playing laser tag.

            “Anyway, as your boyfriend for the evening, I just wanted to make sure you were getting home all right, and that your night wasn’t ruined by some stupid magical interference.” 

            “It’s fine,” I lie.  “What about YOURS?”

            “Are you kidding?  My date gets me out of my clothes without even touching me, I’d say it’s a pretty successful evening.”

            Ugh.  He knows the interference is my fault.  I kind of don’t feel like talking right now.

            “I kind of don’t feel like talking right now.”

            “Say no more, Pidgey-pie.  Anyway, Hunk says–”

            I hang up.

            I’m feeling a bit sick.

            We could have been playing laser tag.

            What am I going to tell my mom about coming home so early?  She’ll know something went bad, I don’t want her to think that about Lance.

            I don’t want her to think that about me being out of the house.

            She’ll ask why I didn’t call.  She’ll think I don’t trust her.  She’ll think she’s a terrible parent whose kid is afraid to talk to her.

            I wish I could tell her.  I wish my parents would say what they said before, “We don’t care what you are, we love you no matter what.”  But I’m not sure I can ask that of them again.  And I don’t think they’d really want to give me this love that belongs to Matt.

            I wish I didn’t hurt people just by existing.

            In what feels like an instant, the cab pulls up to my house.

            I hand the twenty to the driver and don’t wait for any change.

Chapter Text

“Smells like a weirdo!”

I stop digging and look up.

“Oh.  Hi, Lance.”

He makes a beeline for my locker, but Hunk keeps going.

“Haven’t seen you lately!  Where you been?”

That’s a pretty awkward question to answer.  My hand goes to the cross tucked in my shirt.

“Uh, you know.  Busy.”

He leans up against the next locker.  I would get burned if I tried that.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.  That’s probably why you get better grades than me.”

That and a few more reasons.  I hope he hasn’t been suffering over his homework without me.

I pick up Linda to close the locker, but for some reason I hang back from doing it.  I don’t really want to talk, but it feels like there’s something that needs to be said.  Why does human interaction have to be so complicated?  Well.  Almost-human interaction.  Whatever. 

“Hunk left without you?” I say.

He’s been coming to school with band-aids on his face, and that’s how I realized that they’re only made for white people.

Lance shrugs.

“Oh, he just feels bad about trying to rip your throat out.  I TOLD him you didn’t take it personally.  …You don’t, do you?”

“No, uh…”

“You can’t just trail off like that, Pidge, I have to know if I lied to him by accident!”

I feel so fidgety but I don’t have a good spoon to play with.  Harold’s been replaced but the new one is the wrong kind.

I know I should say something but I don’t know how.

But I guess my face is saying a few things of its own.  Lance draws back.

“We scared you, didn’t we?”

I’ve never heard him so quiet.

“Maybe.”

It seems rude to tell someone you were afraid for your life in their presence.

“Hey, listen, don’t worry,” Lance says.  “Shiro says we’ll test the interference at the warehouse next month.  You’ve always wanted to see the warehouse, right?  I mean, it’s not THAT cool, but-”

I cut him off.

“I don’t think I’m worth it for you guys.”

He looks startled.

“What?”

“What I said.  It’s better for everyone if I don’t come back.”

His hand thumps onto my shoulder.

“Pidge.  As your fake boyfriend, let me tell you something.”  I’m sure that what’s coming next is a joke, but he surprises me.  “The thing about weirdos is, it really sucks to be one and it’s also super complicated.  And when you get weirdos together, yeah, it gets MORE complicated.  But if you can deal with more complicated, the REST of it starts to suck less, and… you know.  Maybe sometimes it’s worth it.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“I mean, I get it.  It’s not like I’d want you to MISS me…”  He glances away.

I feel like this conversation is going quite poorly.  Gotta diagnose the problem on the fly…

“No, that’s not it,” I say.  “Maybe I’m saying this because I care about you.”

That’s a weird thing for me to say.

“And maybe I’m saying this because I care about YOU,” Lance says back.  “I’m SAYING we’re willing to work around stuff if we have to.  That’s what friends do.”

“But what if someone gets hurt?”  I’m thinking of a wolf’s head smashing wood chips out of a cabinet.  I’m thinking of a boy I know crying inconsolably for blood.

Lance shrugs.

“Things happen.”  Then he grins.  “But that’s what we keep Shiro around for.”

I didn’t just mean hurt in a physical sense.  I don’t think there’s a medic in the world who can make me un-see those naked bodies and naked souls.  I feel like a voyeur, like I violated literally everybody.  I feel so fucking dirty.

“But everyone was so upset…”

“Pidge, do I look upset?  We were just surprised is all, things happen.  If anything it looks like YOU’RE the one who’s upset.”

I reflexively start to say “I’m not upset,” but I realize it’s a shameless, utter lie.  It’s just hard to talk about being upset when you’ve never done it before.

It’s almost funny.  I watched an entire soul come out like vomit, but I still don’t want to talk about how *I* feel.

Maybe it’s because I saw how ugly that was.

“Is Keith doing better?”

“Fuck Keith, I want to know if YOU’RE doing better.”

“No!  I’m not!  I ruined EVERYTHING!”

“Holy shit, Pidge, who let you walk out of there thinking it was your fault?”

I probably shouldn’t tell him that I didn’t think that until he called me.

“Okay, question,” Lance says.  “Does it bother you more that we almost killed you, or that you kinda fucked us all up?”

“…both?”

“Okay, well that’s a start.”

It’s both but it’s mostly the second one.  I usually can’t tell why people don’t like me.  I know it’s autism-related but as for the specific thing I do that puts people off, it could be anything.  But this time I know exactly how I hurt them.  It even feels legitimate to ME not to like someone who does that to you.

I can’t help but think that if I wasn’t a changeling, if I was just your usual human autistic brat, none of them would be talking to me.

“You guys only like me because you HAVE to.”

If Lance looked fine about everything else, now he looks hurt.

“Paloma… there’s no such thing as HAVING to like someone.”

There’s the bell.  But, for the first time, it seems more important to stay out here.

“Is the only reason you’re hanging out with US because you think you have to?” Lance asks after a moment.

“No, I…”

IS it?

“I don’t know,” I finally say.  “I don’t really know how friends work.”

He gives me the gentlest of noogies.

“Well, you’re in luck, because your auntie Lance is more than willing to help you figure that out.”

Somehow that gets a chortle out of me.

“You’re supposed to be my BOYFRIEND, remember?”

“But of course, milady,” he lets me go with an exaggerated bow.

I didn’t deserve Dylan and I don’t deserve Lance, either.  For my first act of friendship, I’m going to get him a new bowtie.

I start to close my locker when he calls my attention back.

“Hey Pidge, I want to show you something.”

It’s his phone background.

It looks like a photo of a photo hanging on someone’s refrigerator.  Two kids about seven, one with his hand all gauzed up.  Smiling like it’s the Best Day of their Whole Life.

“Is this you and Hunk?”

“Yep.  That’s the last photo from when we were normal.”

“So, what happened?”

“I bit him.”

“What???”

“Yeah.  I wouldn’t have been at his house if I knew…”

For the first time, I notice the faint ripple of a scar on his hand.

Even the great Lance McClain has something he’s not proud of.

“This happened at his HOUSE and his parents still don’t know?”

“Cover stories are easy.  All you have to do is say something that no one wants to deal with.”

“So what did you say?”

“If I remember correctly, I said ‘Me and Hunk are werewolves.’”

Well.  Who am I to argue with what works?

“I don’t really know where I’m going with this…” Lance puts his phone away.

“That things happen and you can still be friends?”

“Yeah.  THAT’S where I’m going with this.”

I guess it’s a fair trade, I’ll help him with school and he’ll help me with people.  I never really thought ANYONE could help me.  Up until recently I didn’t think I NEEDED it.

There’s some footsteps and a teacher rounds the corner.

“What are you two doing out here?  The bell rang ages ago.”

I’m about to make something up but Lance beats me to it.

“We cut class to have sex.”

“So, Katie, things are going well with your boyfriend?” my mom asks me over dinner.

“Uh, yeah.  Why do you ask?”

“We got a call from your school today.”

Oh fucking god.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

She laughs.

“Relax, honey, it’s okay.  I know I don’t say this often, but there are things to be learned in a classroom, and things to be learned outside it.  To be honest, Katie,” my mom smiles, “You’re more than fine with the classroom sort.  I was beginning to worry you’d never work on the OTHER kind.”

Is she talking about interpersonal relationships in general, or is she talking about fucking people in the bathroom?

“Um… so… you’re not mad?”

“Just be more careful that you don’t get caught next time.  And don’t hesitate to talk to me if you have any questions.”

Am I actually disappointing my mom for NOT fucking people in the bathroom?

I wonder what level of disappointment Matt would have achieved if he were still here.  I wonder if he even knows how babies are made.

Fuck, is Matt even still ALIVE?

“He sounds like a nice boy, from what I’ve heard,” my dad says.  “Are we going to meet his family sometime?”

Holy fuck, Dad, how serious do you think this is???

“UM, that’s probably not a good idea.”

“Why’s that?”

Crap.

“Beeeeecause I actually have a DIFFERENT boyfriend now.  Yeah.  That’s a recent development.”

“You know, Katie, you don’t have to keep all these boys a secret from us,” my dad laughs.

Dad, you have no idea.

And now I have a call to make after dinner.

“What do you MEAN you’re fake-breaking-up with me???” Lance shouts through the phone.

“Just as far as my parents are concerned.”

“Yeah, and how far is THAT?  That was our whole relationship!”

“That’s not true.  YOUR parents still think we’re dating.”

“Yeah, well what’s the point NOW?”

“Tell them you got dumped, maybe they’ll take you out to dinner or something.”

“You know, they still don’t know what you look like, I could invite you as a friend,” he says.  I swear I can hear him WINKING.

It’s a nice offer but I don’t want him to pay for more things for me.

“No, that’s fine,” I say.  “You realize I’d have to bring my classy plastic cutlery, right?”

“I’ll bring some too if you don’t want to look weird,” Lance says.

I also don’t want to insult an entire family of Christians.

“Maybe not until we’ve tested the interference.”

“Fair enough.  But hey, thanks for calling, I’ve missed you.”

That kind of takes me aback.  I’ve never been missed before.

“Yeah.  Me too.”

This is a pretty weird breakup.

I’m actually really glad he came and found me today.  Maybe the others have missed me, too.

I pull up Hunk’s number after I hang up.  Gonna tell him that I don’t take it personally.

Chapter Text

The full moon is coming up again but I’m not really ready to go to the warehouse.  Shiro says it can wait.

I’m home again tonight.

I’ve gotten a text from Lance, it’s a picture of him with his arm resting on some invisible mass, captioned with “me and bae.”

I snort and text him back.

He’s still not blushing.

I’m probably getting LESS homework done being here and having to keep up with all these texts.

My phone buzzes again.

hunk says not 2 tell u about the time he tried 2 fuck the neighbors dog

I don’t think I wanted to hear that, I say.

A new text, from Hunk.

Just so you know it was a full moon and Lance was also trying to seduce the dog

no 1 fucked the dog but I have a huge scar on my ass now

If my parents ask me what’s so funny I’ll have to make up a lie.

this place is 10x dumber wihtout u, Lance texts.

Kind of feels like my LIFE is ten times dumber when I’m not there.  I’ve never really missed anyone before.  It’s hard to miss something you don’t know isn’t there.

I wonder if my parents feel like they’re missing anything.

“You look awfully pensive,” my mom says.

“I’m… just having an existential crisis.”

That’s not strictly a lie.

“Well,” she says, “We’ll be here when you get back.”

Please let’s just leave it there.

“So, what’s it about?” she asks.

Dammit.

I could lie.  I could say anything I want.  But honestly, what I want is to talk for REAL.  It hurts to keep secrets from people you love, they must at least understand THAT.

It’s dangerous but…

“What was I like when I was really little?”

My parents exchange a look.  I think they don’t think that I see.

There’s silence and a tightness in the air.  They don’t want to talk about this.

But the gauntlet is down.  My mom smiles but it doesn’t look like a happy smile at all.

“You were the sweetest baby anyone had ever met.”

“You babbled at every stranger,” says my dad.  He looks wistful, he looks fond, but he doesn’t look happy.  “You would have wandered off with anyone who talked to you.”

“But you never went anywhere without Pinky.  Pinky was special.”

“Pinky?” I ask.

They look so sad.

“Your favorite stuffed parrot, the one from our trip to Lake Willington.”

I… might sort of remember a stuffed parrot.  It wasn’t pink.  It was ratty and gross and I threw it away.

“I really liked birds, huh?”

“You loved birds.  You could say “ornithology” before you could spell your name.”

That name was never mine.  Maybe Matt’s old clothes fit me for a while, but his name never did.  I wonder if HE ever felt weird in that name, that’s a thing that happens to every kid sometimes, right?  Maybe he really did prefer being called Pidge.

 “What was my favorite bird?”

“I don’t know if you had a favorite, you loved all of them.”

Man.  He sounds like such a sweetheart.  The fair folk must have fallen in love.  I wonder if he got a chance to fly when they took him away.  I wonder if he meant as much to them as he meant to these people that I live with.  I wonder if he knows that I’m here.

I’m really sorry about Pinky.

“My friend Dylan… what kind of stuff did we do together?”

“You sure threw a lot of rocks into the pond, when you weren’t pretending to be wizards.”

Huh.  Maybe hanging out with Dylan wouldn’t have been so bad after all.  Too bad he hates me now.

“Did Dylan like birds, too?”

My mom laughs the most pained laugh I’ve ever heard.

“Katie, no one liked birds as much as you did.”

“But I still remember,” my dad says, “when you came back from Dylan’s church talking about the bird-people in the windows.”

They let their son go to church?  Maybe only with Christians who were more like Lance.  Maybe Matt though the fairs were bird-people too.

“Why are you asking this all of a sudden?” my mom says to me.

She looks a little nervous and so does my dad.  I’ve never told them the things I’ve heard them say.  It hurts to keep secrets from someone you love.

“I just think I’ve changed a lot.”

They have a look in their eyes.  It hurts me so much.

“Well, that happens.  People change.”

But maybe I changed for the worse.  I know they’re thinking that too.

I wish it wasn’t this way.  For them.  And for Matt.

Matt.

A ghost whose presence I’ve breathed my whole life.

Because Matt was never just a name, Matt was flesh and blood and opinions and love and he might be dead or he might not but he was REAL, he was real and he left craters in these people I love and maybe he’s all alone and maybe there’s nothing in the world that he loves anymore.

I feel a hand on my back.  It’s a woman who lost her son.

“Katie?  What’s wrong?”

I can’t stop myself from crying.  And the only words I can get out are, “Who the fuck names a parrot Pinky?”

Chapter Text

            I didn’t hear any knocking.  I just heard Gunther start to go crazy and my dad suddenly calling me.

            “Katie?  I think your boyfriend is here.”

            Uh oh.  I can’t even remember who my parents think I’m dating right now.

            I book downstairs, my dad’s at the door and there’s Keith, lingering awkwardly outside.  It’s so jarring to see him out of the apartment, my first thought is that he’s gone nuts again.  But he doesn’t have that darkness in his eyes, and he was sane enough to remember the mask.

            Still though.  He looks scared about something.

            “Uh.  Hi… sweetie?” I say.

            But I’m not sure he’s heard me over Gunther’s barking.

            “Easy, boy,” my dad holds Gunther by the collar.  Then he says to Keith, “It’s nothing personal, he doesn’t like Katie either.”

            Gunther usually just avoids me, I’ve never heard him actually growl before.

            My dad goes to shut him in the bathroom like you would with a goddamn werewolf.

            “What’s going on, why are you here?” I whisper to Keith.

            “Pidge, I need you to…” he shuts up when my dad comes back.  “I mean.  Can you come out tonight?  My darling.”

            I look at my dad too.  This is really NOT an ideal way to get me out of the house.

            “Uh… Dad?”

            My dad looks between us.  I’m sure he’s sizing up this new boyfriend of mine.

            “It’s a bit late.  What are you kids planning on doing?”

            Oh god.  What ARE we doing?

            “Uh… there’s a really nice moon out tonight and I thought it’d be a good time for a… picnic,” Keith shuffles.

            Damn, Keith, you’re a hopeless romantic and an even more hopeless liar.

            “A picnic?”

            “Yeah, we’ve been waiting for a good night for this,” I try.

            My dad widens the door.  God, Keith, it’s not that warm out, are you going to stand there or are you going to come in like a normal fucking person?

            “Don’t you need a warmer jacket than that?” my dad asks.

            “Uh… I–”

            “YES can he borrow one of yours?” I cut him off.

            My dad chuckles and pulls one off the coat rack.  I was sorta hoping that was gonna buy us more time than that.  Whatever’s going on, I wish Lance had been the one to get me.  He may say some stupid shit but it always seems to work out.

            Lance.

            Tonight’s the full moon.

            Oh shit.

            “You kids don’t have to make up a midnight picnic to get out of the house,” says my dad.  “But I’ll grant you, it was a good try.”

            “Please, Dad, it’s important.”

            “Of course it is,” he says.  Then he turns to Keith.  “You know, it’s more romantic to sneak in through the window.”

            “Uh… what?” says Keith.

            “Sure.  I won’t say I’VE never done that…”

            Dear god.

            At least my new boyfriend seems to have passed inspection.  Despite categorically failing the Gunther test and showing up unannounced in the middle of the fucking night.

            My dad hands me something and I know it’s a last-minute condom.

            “Let us know if you need anything else,” he says.

            It’s almost too bad I don’t date because I have some EXCELLENT wingmen.

            “Uh, no, that should be fine,” I say.  Then I look at Keith.  “Right?”

            “Yeah,” he says, though I’m not sure he looks like he’s really thinking about it.  He just looks desperate to get a move on and this could not possibly reflect well on our fake date.  Or my choice of fake boyfriends.

            “When should we expect you back?” asks my dad.

            I really hate that question.

            “Uh…” I hope Keith can carry this one because I have no idea what we’re doing.

            “Whenever,” he says.

            I really prefer Lance as a fake boyfriend.

            “Tomorrow,” I say through my teeth.

            “Okay, well, drive safe,” my dad says.

            I hope he doesn’t realize Keith doesn’t have a car.

            “Yup, we will!  Bye, Dad!”

            I’m out the door before I can grab any of my stuff.  Feel so fucking naked without it.

            This had better be important.

            “Okay, what the fuck is going on?” I whisper as Keith basically starts to drag me off.

            “I’ll tell you when we’re out of earshot.”

            It’s a combination of things that’s making me feel upset.  I want my stuff with me and my routine’s been interrupted and I’m actually pretty fucking scared about whatever it is that’s brought Keith to my house tonight.

            I pull my hand out of his grip.

            “Keith, my dad thinks this is a BOOTY CALL.  You’d better have a good excuse.”

            He scoffs.

            “Don’t worry, I’m not that kind of guy.”

            “Really?  That’s not what Lance says.”

            Then he gives me a look.  I probably shouldn’t have said that.

            “The fuck did Lance tell you?”

            Probably shouldn’t use the specific colorful words Lance did.  Man, I thought it had just been a JOKE.

            “…the... opposite?”

            I can’t see most of his face but I think he’s upset.

            I should just stop trying to have friends.

            I start to apologize but he shoves the balled-up jacket at me and cuts me off.

            “Things have gotten better since I met Shiro.  Back when I didn’t have anywhere to live, I did what I had to do not to sleep out in the cold.  Now we’re gonna drop it, okay?”

            That’s a lot less funny than what Lance said.

            Also, does he even sleep anymore?  Was this before he was turned?

            But we’re gonna drop it.  No more questions.

            “Yeah.”

            I want to tell him I’m sorry to hear all that, but I’m not sure that falls under “dropping it.”  I bet Shiro would know what to say.

            He’s walking so stiffly.  I hope he’s okay.

            Come to think of it, I don’t actually know how he met Shiro in the first place.

            “How DID you meet Shiro, anyway?”

            He scoffs, eyes ahead.

            “I’m his biggest disgrace.”

            I should probably stop prying tonight.

            Wonder if we’re out of earshot yet.

            “So.  Why do you need me?  Shiro’s at work?”

            He picks up the pace.

            “Shiro’s at work and the cops showed up.”

            Fucking shit.

            “What happened???”

            “Sounded like someone called it in as a dogfighting ring.”

            Are you fucking serious.

            “Who the fuck creeps around the warehouse besides you guys???”

            “How would I fucking know that??”

            “So where’s Hunk and Lance??”

            “I don’t know!  Wherever animal control took them!”

            My insides get cold.

            “And you just WATCHED them??”

            All I can think of is the time I saw him punch a werewolf twice his size.

            “Pidge, if I attack a human it’s gonna go– VERY badly!”

            Well, that doesn’t make me feel any better about walking around the city at night.

            “And you didn’t even fucking text me before you just showed up??”

            “I’m a little fucking tense, okay??”

            “Yeah, I fucking noticed!  I’m a little fucking tense, too!”

            “Look, I need you right now, okay?  Where would they have been taken?”

            I’m one hundred percent certain he would rather have Shiro for this, and I ALSO would rather he have Shiro.  There’s a reason Shiro usually gets cage duty.  Whatever he is, he’s really good with people and probably doesn’t eat them.

            “Well… I can only guess they’ve been taken to the dog pound.”

            Is that shit operational at night?  No way is it open for visitors right now.

            “Okay, where is that?”

            “Gimme a sec.”  I have nothing but my phone and a cross and a condom.  Thank god for pockets.

            “You’ve gotta be shitting me,” I say.  “It’s on the other side of town.”

            “Then we’re going NOW,” Keith says.

            I really hope this pound doesn’t immediately destroy aggressive dogs.

            We’re running through the streets now, definitely looking like the casual law-abiding citizens we are.  It’s fucking cold out, even running this fast, even in my dad’s jacket.  And I’m starting to doubt Keith remembers I need to fucking breathe.  I’m sure this story is going to be hilarious someday but right now I’m just not feeling it.

.           I wonder if there are any other werewolves out tonight.

            When we finally stop I take out the cross.

            I move to tuck it into my shirt.  There’s a sharp noise.

            It’s Keith, flinching into a defensive curl.  He only relaxes a bit when the cross drops out of sight.

            “Are you… okay?” I ask.

            “Where did you get that?”

            Does he really think I’d buy this of my own accord?

            “…from Shiro.”

            He looks hurt.  Then angry.  But he turns away.

            “So, THAT’S the trust I get…”

            Fuck.  I may suck at friendship, but I’m aware this is a pretty bad corner.  It’s not that I don’t trust HIM, I just don’t trust that vampiric rage I’ve seen him fly into.

            “It’s not THAT… I mean, I’m sorry…”

            “No, don’t be sorry.  You SHOULDN’T trust me.  No one should.”

            Pretty broad statement there.

            “Not even Shiro?”

            “I ripped his fucking arm off, of course he shouldn’t trust me.”

            Shit.

            “Uh… do you want to… talk about that?”

            “No, Pidge.  I really, really don’t.”

            He may not want to talk about it, but I’m not not saying something for a second time.  I can think of one good thing to say, and I’m surprised it came from someone other than Shiro.

            “Keith.  There’s no such thing as having to like someone.”

            I can see my breath but I can’t see his.

            Something’s changed.

            The mask comes off, it’s wet and ruined, he lets it drop to the ground even though I doubt he’s brought another.

            He has no heartbeat but I can feel him shaking when he clings onto my shoulder.

            It’s not me he’s crying about.  It’s someone he hurt but who still loves him.  It’s someone to whom he is the biggest disgrace.  It’s somebody he loves, too.

            I’m not so good at this but I put my arms around him.  He’s so cold.

            I guess my mom was right about learning things outside a classroom.

Chapter Text

            It’s nearly daybreak by the time we get there.  I’ve given him back the coat.

            He insists he’s not above hiding in dumpsters, but still.

            It’s pretty fucking cold out here.

            Unsurprisingly, the door is locked and we are, in fact, climbing through the window.  My dad would be so proud.

            Technically it’s still considered breaking and entering even if the window didn’t suffer THAT much damage.

            I’m the first one in, it’s an empty lobby but fuck, I don’t think it’s going to be empty for very long.  I’m shaking, but not just from the cold.  It’s not the prospect of doing something illegal that bothers me, it’s the prospect of getting CAUGHT.

            It’s still only me in here.

            “Why aren’t you coming in?”

            “Invite me.”

            “Oh.  Come in?”

            He climbs through the window.  The horizon’s turning pink, there’s no going back now.

            But we didn’t come here to think.

            The first door through the lobby isn’t locked.  On the other side, cages and cages of dogs.

            Maybe it’s the lighting, maybe it’s the cells, but this place looks like a fucking hellscape.  I may not be Gunther’s best friend but I feel bad that he was here once.

            Most of the dogs are sleeping, but there’s one or two that growl or whine as we walk by.

            “I take it you’re not a dog person either,” I say to Keith.

            “I used to be.”

            “Well, I never was.”

            The cages all have chain link doors.  Good thing that will only burn ONE of us.  I don’t have anything to pick a lock, though.

            We round a corner, and there’s Hunk and Lance, side by side in pens, Hunk with his face in his hands and Lance waving at us sheepishly.

            Scrap-ass naked.

            “Heyyyyyy…..”

            I’m not watching this shit.

            “Okay, stand back,” I hear Keith say.  “I’m gonna break down the doors, and then we’re getting out of here.”

            What, are we gonna run around town like THIS?  What the fuck were any of us thinking?

            All we need now is for the dog warden to come in.

            And then the dog warden comes in.

            There’s silence for a full ten seconds before Lance says something.

            “We’re doing a kink scene.  We broke in to do a kink scene.”

            Pretty sure I hear several facepalms around me.

            The warden reaches for a phone.

            I am… probably going to get arrested today.  If my parents hear about this… at least they’ll be glad they sent condoms.

            This would be a great time for a miracle.

            The sound of the door echoes through the hall.  Suddenly the odd barks and whines quiet down.

            “Hi, everyone,” Shiro smiles winningly across the way, as if nothing illegal was going on.  He turns to the dog warden.  “I hope you’ll excuse my friends.  You see, I run a support group for disturbed youth…”

            “No, Shiro, this is a kink scene,” Lance hisses.

            The warden backs away.

            “No can do… the police have to hear about this…”

            “No they don’t, it’s okay,” Shiro says, in a way that sounds strangely believable.

            The warden relaxes.

            “I suppose you’re right…”

            “Of course.”  He hands the warden some papers.  “You’ll want these later.”

            The man doesn’t even look at them.

            “Thanks.”

            “Would you mind unlocking them?”

            The warden does it without a word.

            Jesus fuck, what did Shiro DO to him?

            “Well, we have to head off now,” Shiro says.

            “Can I have a hug before you go?”

            I think my jaw actually dropped just now.  Lance is laughing.

            “Sure,” Shiro pulls the guy in.  The warden looks like he’s about to cry.

            And Keith looks a little put off.

            Whatever’s going on here, I’m sure Shiro is the best paramedic out there.

            “Well THAT guy was easy,” I hear Lance say as the warden leaves.

            “For SHIRO, not for you,” Keith snorts.

            “Yeah, what’s HIS problem?” Hunk asks.

            “You know it’s not my place to talk about that,” Shiro says.  “But yeah, he has issues.”

            I don’t really care what’s so funny about all this.

            “You guys didn’t bite anyone, did you?” I ask.

            “Ugh, I don’t remember anything after the tranq darts coming out,” Hunk groans.

            “Oh, shit.”

            “You should stay with us for a bit in case they have any residual effects,” Shiro says.

            Yeah, that would be a hard situation to explain to any other professional.  Or your mom.

            Shiro’s brought a blanket for each of our naked friends and one for the resident vampire.  This is gonna be an interesting trip home. 

Chapter Text

            They’ve asked me to stay while they wait out the tranquilizers.  My parents won’t be worried, they think I’m having a tryst anyway.

            Someone puts on a movie, Shiro’s somewhere treating the burn on Keith’s hand.

            My all-nighters usually don’t involve so much running around.  I’m not really paying attention to this movie.  All I know is that it’s something without any blood, and Lance knows all the songs.

            It’s a nice place to be, a couch full of people you like.  Everything’s warm and soft.

            I don’t remember falling asleep, but when I wake up there’s a blanket over me and I’m leaning against Hunk’s arm.  It looks like it’s been a couple of hours, but he hasn’t moved.

            “Hunk?”

            “Oh, hey, you’re awake.  Sleep good?”

            I mean, there’s a massive crick in my neck, but other than that, yes.  Lance walks in as I stretch and yawn.

            “Oh, good, we don’t have to be quiet anymore.”  He flops beside us on the couch.  “By the way, Pidgey-bird, your hot chocolate was getting cold, so I drank it for you.”

            Hell, I don’t think I was even awake when they MADE the stuff.

            “Morning, Pidge,” Keith says as he enters.  Is he smiling?  Holy fuck, he’s smiling.

            “More like afternoon,” Lance checks his phone.

            “Whatever,” Keith comes over and ruffles my hair.

            What have I done to deserve this?

            It’s just a lot.  Everyone’s safe, everyone’s together, everyone’s happy.

            And it’s palpable, how much they love each other.  How much they love ME.

            I’ve never felt so at home.

            “Oh my god, Pidge, don’t cry, I’m sorry about the hot chocolate, I’ll make you another one!”

            I’m laughing a little bit but they probably don’t think I am.

            I catch Shiro’s eye through the door.  He looks away but I can see him smiling.

            He knows he did good to bring me here.

Chapter Text

            The Best Day of my Whole Life happened when I was around five.  Well.  When MATT was around five.

            Apparently they were at the zoo.  The biggest zoo in the state, the zoo with all the tigers and monkeys and hippos a kid could ever want.

            Matt loved the birds.

            There were exotic birds at the zoo.  But he didn’t just love THOSE.

            Matt loved the pigeons.

            There were pigeons on the benches, pigeons on the ground, pigeons being chased away by the zookeepers.

            It wasn’t like he’d never seen one.

            Matt loved birds and there were flamingoes and peacocks and ostriches at the zoo.  And there were pigeons.

            To him, they were as beautiful as any of the rare birds on display.

            “Should we go get some ice cream?” his dad asked him.

            “No,” Matt said.  “I’m watching the pigeons.”

            His parents laughed and he laughed too.

            He put his hand out to the closest bird.

            “Here, pidge.”

            It fluttered to sit on his finger.

Chapter Text

            It looks like the place where you could buy Love Potion Number Nine.  I’m not entirely convinced those aren’t eyeballs in the jar on the shelf.

            It’s not until several steps in that I see the woman.  Old, but at the same time ageless.  In the low light, she sits at a table, sorting out what look like small bits of leaves.  She’s wearing a hood and doesn’t look up.

            “Piss off, angel.  You know I don’t make deals with your kind.”

            I look at Shiro.  He’s hardly reacted.

            “Yes, I’m aware.  But my friend wants to talk to you,” he says.

            I’m actually less sure I want to talk to her than I had been before.

            She looks up, and what I can see of her face turns surprised.

            “A changeling…”

            She reaches across the table and pinches my face, angling it this way and that.  I really wish she wouldn’t.

            “How much do you want for her?”

            Shiro pulls her hand off me and I could not be more grateful.

            “We’re not doing that.”

            “Keep your filth off me!” She yanks her hand out of his grip, wipes her wrist on the tablecloth.

            By now her hood has fallen, and I can see the pointy tips of her ears.

            Shiro had told me she was one of the fair folk, but I still wasn’t prepared to see that.

            “That’s some poor company you keep,” she says to me, pulling her hood back up.  “What do you want?”

            I’m kind of scared to talk to her.

            “I was hoping… can you tell me about the fair folk?” I finally say.

            “They’re terrible.”

            Okay, great.

            “Can you maybe tell me a little MORE than that?”

            “If you’re more specific.”

            Man.  I had a LOT of specific questions five minutes ago but it’s so hard to focus on them now.

            “Where do they live?” is the first one I can get out.

            “In a separate realm, you toad.”

            She’s gone back to her work.

            “Why do you hate them so much?”

            She scowls.

            “Ask me something else.”

            I nod towards Shiro.

            “Why do you hate HIM?”

            “Why don’t YOU?”

            That might have been rhetorical but I’m going to answer it anyway.

            “Because he’s the first person to see me for what I am and actually give a shit.”

            “Well.  You’ll learn,” she says.

            I hate it when adults say shit like that.

            “So… is my real family in the fairy realm?”

            “You think you’re going to be welcome there?  They wanted a HUMAN more than they wanted you.”

            I also hate getting my questions answered with more questions.

            “Why did they want him instead?”

            “Do I look like I still TALK to those animals?  Why would I know what they noticed about him?”

            “Noticed?”

            “They’re a tasteless lot, but they don’t take just ANY human.  They want someone who’s good for something.”  She sneers a bit.  “One of the few wise trades they make."

            I think Shiro is doing all he can not to snap at her.

            There’s a very faint impression of her pointy ear coming through the hood.  I’m having a hard time not staring.  Should MY ears be pointy like that?

            “If I’m a fairy, why don’t I look like one?”

            “Simple.”

            She turns around, breaks open a bottle, turns back.

            She’s looking back at me with Shiro’s face, and a grin like I’ve never seen on him.  Suddenly I realize how scared my parents must have been on the day my eyes changed.

            “They didn’t even give you a GIRL to live as,” she says, not quite in Shiro’s voice.  “They really don’t care about you.”

            I’ll have time to be upset about that later.  Right now I’m too disturbed by that face.

            “Okay, that’s enough,” Shiro says.

            She smirks pointedly at him.  I think he might be more upset about this than I am.  And she’s enjoying it.

            “And what are you going to do about it?” she taunts.

            “Please…” I can’t believe I said that.

            “Hmph,” the witch frowns.  She cracks open a small vial and looks like an old hag again.

            I want to leave, but I won’t.  I’ve never met anyone who knows this much about the fair folk.  Not even Shiro.

            “Why don’t I remember being a fairy?” I ask her.

            “You don’t know anything, do you?”

            “Well, nobody exactly gave me a handbook!” I snap.  I get kind of nasty when I’m scared.  My memory’s a bit foggy but there’s a chance I’ve bitten a few EMTs in my day.

            “Of course you don’t know anything.  If you did, you wouldn’t be a very convincing replacement, now would you?”  She pauses to tie together a bundle of leaves.  “They have ways of making you forget.”

            “So… who was I?”

            “Another thing you expect me to know,” she glances up to glare at me.  “You could have been anyone.  But one thing I DO know,” she says with a scowl, “Is that you weren’t anything that anybody wanted.  Maybe a royal bastard.  Maybe a troublemaker.”

            My heart is pounding.

            “Is there any way of finding out?”

            “By returning your memories?  Not here, that’s not a spell I can cure.  And even if it was,” she hunches over the table, “do you really want to remember everything you had that was taken away from you?  You might have lived there for centuries, where the people you loved most didn’t care enough to keep you, even after all that time.”

            “I could be centuries old?”

            “You could be older than your angel.”

            I look at Shiro.

            “Am I?”

            He shakes his head.

            “I don’t know.”

            It’s quiet for a bit.  The only sound is the witch rustling her ingredients.  There are bottles all over this place; she’s been here for a long time.

            “So… are you doing magic right now?” I ask her.

            “Combining my magic with that of the natural world,” she says.  “It’s a basic skill.”

            “Is it something I can learn?”

            “I’m not going to teach you.”

            “That’s not what I asked,” I snip back.  I wouldn’t want to spend that much time with this old hag anyway.

            “It’s not just the servitude they want out of their humans,” she says.  “It’s the spare parts.”

            Wait, WHAT?

            “Spare parts?”

            Shouldn’t she have mentioned that a while ago?

            “They don’t harvest enough to kill.  Generally.”

            I’m feeling sick.

            “Don’t give me that look,” she says.  “Nothing comes free, and magic is no exception.  It would be hard to teach a changeling who doesn’t respect that.”

            Yes it fucking would be.  Maybe magic’s not the kind of thing I want to do.

            What’s been happening to Matt this whole time?

            “I want to bring my brother back home,” I say involuntarily.

            He’s not even my brother.  Where did that come from?

            The witch laughs.  It’s not good-natured at all.

            “You’re a smart little whelp.  I would love to help deprive them of something that’s theirs.”

            I hate the way she says it.  But I can feel it.  This is what I’ve wanted for a long time.  It’s what I wanted coming in here, what I’ve wanted since the day I learned what I was.

            I had no idea.  I wonder if Shiro did.

            “I can send you to their kingdom,” the witch says, getting up and perusing a shelf behind her.  “If you’re quick, you can take back your human.”

            “How will I find him?”

            She gives me a look.

            “Don’t tell me you don’t know what he looks like.”

            I move a bit closer to Shiro.

            After a while the witch sets a small bottle on the table.

            “This one.  This elixir will send you to the fairy realm for three hours.”

            I look at it, and I look at Shiro.

            “I want him to come, too.”

            She grumbles and decants it into two smaller bottles.

            “One and a half.  You want your human back, have his hand in yours as the potion wears off.”

            My god.  Is this a thing that can really happen?  The real Matt, he might be alive somewhere.

            What are his parents gonna think?  Would they still want ME?

            But I can’t go back without him.  I would never forgive myself now that I know there’s a chance.

            I hope he’s alive.

            My brain’s going all sorts of places but the witch interrupts.

            “Do you really want to walk around the fairy realm looking like that?”

            She holds up another vial, watching me.  It’s the same sort of vial as from before.

            “What’s that do?”

            “It will turn you back into the girl you always were.”

            I reach for it carefully, trying not to brush her ugly hand.  I’m shaking.

            It’s cold.  It’s easy.  Suddenly all my years of suffering seem worthless.

            It’s quivering inside with ripples.

            Is it better to pass as a girl or as a human?  Would my parents even know who I was?  Which parents?  Who the fuck am I?

            Maybe today’s not a good day to make this decision.

            But what if I was beautiful?

            I’m having really bad dysphoria right now.

            “I… I don’t know…”

            “Well, give it back if you’re not going to use it,” the witch motions.  I feel calmer when it’s out of my hands.  I don’t know what I would have done.  It scares me, and at the same time I’m pissed that I didn’t have this option years ago.

            I have pretty well had it here and I want to finish our business and get the fuck out.

            “Is there any other fairy stuff I should know?”

            “Don’t touch any iron.”

            “Yeah, okay, I got that one.”

            I pick up the two small bottles.

            “You’re going to pay for that, aren’t you?” she says.

            I don’t like the way she said that.

            “Depends on what you mean,” I say.

            “Shame you’re fresh out of feathers.  A couple of THOSE would have done.”

            I see Shiro tensing beside me.

            “What do you want?” he says.

            I see now that she’s holding a knife.

            “Considering how much an angel can bleed?  Not much at all.”

Chapter Text

            I have never needed an ice cream so badly.  It’s a quiet thing for processing.

            Shiro’s gotten me one, and he’s gotten one for himself, too.  I didn’t actually know he was one to eat food.  Maybe he knows how awkward I’d feel eating alone.

            “I can’t stand strawberry ice cream that has chunks in it,” I say.

            “Texture thing?”

            “Yeah.”  I look over.  “You probably knew that already.”

            “Yeah, I did.”

            Of course he did.

            “How’s your hand?”

            “Which one?” he grins.

            What’s great about Shiro’s jokes is that he never gets offended if you laugh at the wrong one.  But I don’t think this is a wrong one anyway.

            “It’s fine,” he adds with a nod.

            I guess I can believe that.  This is a guy who shrugs off werewolf bites.

            But I still feel bad about it.

            It’s pretty nice out, though a bit colder than usual for getting ice cream.  There aren’t too many birds in the park today.

            “So… angel?”

            “Yes.”

            There’s a very blatant question on my mind but something tells me not to ask it.

            “You’ve never talked about that,” I say instead.

            “Do you have questions?”

            That aren’t offensive?  Maybe.

            “Why DON’T you talk about it?”

            Crap.  Was that something I shouldn’t have asked, too?

            “Because,” he says at last.  “I’m not proud of everything.”

            “What’s there not to be proud of?”

            “Well.  I had a charge.”  He clears his throat.  “I still HAVE a charge.  But I… didn’t quite come through for him.”

            His biggest disgrace.

            “Keith?”

            “Yeah.”

            “So does that make you a guardian angel?”

            “Not anymore, according to the people upstairs.  But you can call me whatever you want.”

            “What does Keith call you?”

            “Old,” Shiro smirks.

            That gets a laugh out of me.

            “My dad looks WAY older than you,” I say.

            “I remember when he was BORN.”

            “Okay, it’s kinda weird when you put it that way.”

            He’s the one to laugh this time.

            “So, does everybody have an angel?  Because I sure haven’t seen that many around.”

            “Well we don’t usually spend much time on the surface.”

            “But you’re here.”

            “Because I broke the law.”

            “What law?”

            “Angels only get assigned to humans.  If a charge gets tainted, you’re supposed to abandon them.  Under strict penalty.”

            “What is it?”

            “I’m not allowed back.”

            I have a guess as to how they enforce that.

            “Don’t worry about it,” he says.  “I knew what I was getting into.”

            Still though.

            I probably shouldn’t ask but I’m dreadfully curious.

            “How did they do it?”

            “With a golden sword.”

            Is that where the scar on his face came from, too?

            “Really, don’t worry about it,” he says again.  I guess I look pretty worried.

            “I just... didn’t know you gave up so much for this.”

            He smiles a bit.

            “Well, who needed me more, a being who presides over the entire world, or a kid who’s lost his right to an angel?”

            I knew there was a reason I liked Shiro from the beginning.

            “You must be the best one.”

            He’s not really smiling anymore.

            “Another angel might have saved him.”

            “But would they have STAYED?”

            He shrugs and pretends he’s interested in his ice cream cone.

            I do have to say, this place does an excellent peanut butter swirl.  Just enough salt, and a uniform consistency.

            There’s an image forming in my head.

            A body in four pieces, blood nowhere but its face.  An angel with a golden sword, so bright it could have killed a vampire by its light alone.

            They’re in the street and the night is cold.

            He died in Shiro’s arms.

            “Supernatural accident,” I say without meaning to.

            Shiro looks sad.

            “He was scared.  He didn't know what he was doing.”

            He’d been bitten and he was turning.  The vampire was dead but it was too late.

            I saw Shiro successfully wrestle a giant werewolf.  He could have torn a vampire apart with his bare hands.

            I just can’t get behind a religion that thinks a guy like him deserves to lose his wings.

            “I hope you’re not offended, but I think Christianity is bullshit.”

            “Of course I’m not offended.  Most real Christians think Christianity is bullshit.”

            That’s not the kind of thing he said when he came to our door.

            “Sorry, what?”

            “The thing matters isn’t who or what you believe in, but whether you’re doing the right thing.  A lot of people who call themselves Christian forget that.”

            If most door-to-door missionaries talked like this, I might listen more often.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well, think about it.  A truly benevolent God isn’t so pedantic as to expect a specific kind of worship.  Because the values He wants people to live by aren’t exclusive to one religion, they’re basic rules of human decency.”

            “But I mean, is he really that benevolent?  Look what happened to YOU.”

            He sighs.

            “That’s different.  There are some things that can’t be explained in human tongues.”

            I’m not sure I’m ever going to understand the whole “religion” thing, anyway.

            “I’ve had a lot of bad experiences with religious people.”

            “I know,” he says.  “Those are the fake Christians I was talking about.  You’ve heard of taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

            “Of course I have.”

            He seems to know pretty much everything about me already anyway.

            “Well, that’s what’s happening.  A lot of people think that taking the Lord’s name in vain means saying ‘Oh God’ when something goes wrong.  But what it actually is is using His name to justify things He doesn’t condone.”

            “Things like what?”

            “Like starting a war for His sake.  Or hating someone for their gender or sexuality.  Anything that hurts someone else.”

            Dang.

            “Wow.  I wish I’d known this a while ago.”

            He laughs.

            “Well I guess I should have told you.”

            I mean, I get why he didn’t.  I’m an evidence-based thinker.

            “You sound like you still care about God.”

            “I don’t begrudge Him anything.”

            “Hah.  Yeah.  The only person you do that to is YOURSELF.”

            Why do I say shit like that without thinking about how it’s going to make people feel?

            His laugh is bitter now.

            “Did I say the wrong thing again?” I ask.

            “No.  You’re completely right.”

            The ice cream’s not melting as fast as it would on a hot day.  I’m just now down to the cone.

            “Shiro… you know a lot about people, right?”

            “You could say that.”

            “What are my parents gonna think?”

            That’s IF we find Matt, of course.

            “I mean, I can’t actually predict the future,” Shiro says.  “I’ve just seen a lot of humanity from a larger vantage point.”

            “Well that’s more than *I* know about them.  Do you think… I don’t know.  Is this a good idea?”

            “Honestly, Katie, I think no matter how I answer that, it won’t stop you from doing it.”

            Well.  Yeah.

            “I’m just not sure they’re going to want a kid that’s not theirs.”

            Shiro looks thoughtful.  Like he’s making a decision.

            “You know, I heard them praying one time.”

            “What??  Seriously?”

            “Seriously.”

            “Why were they praying to you?  They’re not even Christian.”

            “They weren’t praying to me.  They were praying to whatever’s out there.  I used to hear a lot of those from… very desperate people.”

            Jeez.

            “What did they say?”

            Maybe it’s breaking a sort of doctor/patient confidentiality to ask.  But Shiro doesn’t answer to anybody anymore.

            “They said that their daughter means the world to them and they’d do anything to save her.”

            “From…”

            From the iron pill.

            “Oh.”

            That does sound like a pretty desperate prayer.  I wonder if all that desperation ever started to wear on him.

            “So… praying.  Did it work?  Is that why I got better?  But angels and fairies don’t deal with each other, right?  Do I even HAVE a guardian angel?”

            He smiles.

            “You do now.”

            So that’s it.  He’s here for the kids who have lost their angels.  Or who never had any in the first place.

            All of a sudden I want to cry.

            “Don’t you worry,” he says.  “I’ve got you.”

            Man.  Shiro’s a good hugger.  He would still be better if one of his arms wasn’t cold plastic, though.

            “But do they only love me because of Matt?”

            He goes quiet.  He can’t answer that.

            “Katie.  If you don’t find family with them, you’ll always have it with me.”

Chapter Text

            The elixir gives you a kind of fizzy feeling, and the sense that the world’s fallen out from under you.

            When it’s finally over we’re in bright light.  The air tingles with something that feels like electricity but honest to fuck I think it’s magic.

            I wonder if Shiro is as impressed by this place as I am.

            I’ve never seen trees this big.  Or this GREEN. 

            And I’ve never seen a real castle before.

            It looks like it’s made of the moon.  It shines like it casts its own light.

            There might be people in there who know me.

            “Do you think that’s where he is?” I ask.

            “I don’t know,” Shiro says.  “But there might be someone there who does.”

            I really hope the fairs here are nicer than the one we talked to.

            We head towards the castle through the trees and the crackling air.  I wish I could spend more time here, but we have a job to do.

            I might have lived here for centuries.

            I wonder if some part of me remembers this place.  If the smell of the air might activate some deep, primal recognition.

            I don’t feel anything like that.  I just feel nervous.

            It’s not a requirement of the mission but I decide to hold Shiro’s hand.  His real one.

            There’s a gate around the castle, made from living vines woven into impossibly beautiful patterns.  I guess it can be said that the fairs have way too much time on their hands.

            There isn’t a door anywhere.  I’m about to say something about that when the vines retract into a gateway.

            On the other side there’s a man.  Tall, stately, ginger.  I’m guessing he’s a footman of some sort.

            “I thought I heard someone out here!” he says.

            Yeah, with THOSE ears, I bet he did.

            “Uh… hi.”

            “If it isn’t a changeling!  So, you found your way back here!” he says, motioning me inside.  “Please leave your angel at the door,” he adds with only a touch of disdain.

            I look at Shiro before I go in.  He nods at me.  It’s gonna be okay.

            With a motion of his hand, the fairy man brings the vines together again.  I don’t even have a moment to watch them curl over each other before he starts fluffing my hair and tugging at my sleeves.

            “Is this really the body we left you in?  I simply LOVE what you’ve done with it!”

            I’m starting to think the fair folk have a possessive, touchy streak.

            “Um.  Thank you.”

            Thank you for maybe being one of the people who decided to put me in a fucking BOY’S body in the first place.

            “So, I expect you’ll be wanting the grand tour?” he gestures ostentatiously.

            I do but I don’t have the fucking time.

            “Uh… actually, I just want to meet… my human.”

            “Ah, the birdkeeper!” he smiles.  “Right this way!”

            I’m still nervous but so far I like this guy better than the fairy from the herb shop.

            This side of the gate is filled with gardens, just as green as the outside forest but much more regularly arranged.  I can’t even see the end of the wall, the place seems to go on forever.  I try to tell myself that I don’t NEED to find Shiro again while I’m here, when the potion wears off we’ll both be back home, with or without my brother.

            And it sounds like he’s alive.

            We’re passing some people through these gardens, tall, sylphy sorts, with pointed ears and a stern grace about them.  I’m getting disparaging looks from all of them.

            The further we get, the fewer there are.

            In a patch there’s a woman stooped over a plant, clipping leaves and humming to herself.

            She doesn’t have pointed ears.  She gives me a strange look as we go by.

            I’m sort of glad I don’t live here.

            Eventually we’re in a quieter part of the estate.  It’s got a few trees, maybe average-sized for the human world but small for this one.

            “Right where I thought,” the man says.

            It’s so quiet I don’t even realize anyone’s there.

            But then I look over and see.

            There’s a boy in the garden whistling a bird to his finger.  In the other hand he has a treat.  The bird picks it up, and he’s whickering to it, the quietest conversation I’ve ever heard.

            He’s dressed in what by fairy standards must amount to a burlap sack.  To a human, it’s exquisite, even dotted with bird shit. 

            The man calls to him.

            “Pidge!  You’re got a visitor!”

            He looks up, startled.  The bird flies away.

            He looks so much like me.

            My heart is pounding furiously.

            The fairy man seems to know this is personal.

            “Well, I’ll leave you to your catching up.  I’ll be back at my post if you need me.”

            I’m not going to look for him again.

            When he leaves I take a step towards Matt.

            He looks just fucking like me.  I’ve talked to vampires and werewolves and all kinds of shit but none of it has been stranger than THIS.

            Is that really how tall I would be without the T-blockers?  Or is it just the fucking magic you can taste everywhere?

            The insides of his wrists are scarred.  Some scars look newer than others.

            And he looks like he’s afraid.  I don’t even know what I should say to him.

            But he’s the first one to say something.

            He edges a bit closer.

            He reaches out with the curiosity of a child and the wariness of an injured animal.  As gently as he would pick up a baby bird, he tucks back my hair, staring.

            And that’s his first word to me, the sound of his thumb brushing over my ear.

            Lately I’ve been getting particularly sick of strangers touching me, but it’s different this time.  I’ve worn his clothes, I’ve slept in his bed, I’ve been loved by his parents.  And all he wants is to see that I’m real.

            His other hand moves to his own ear.

            And then he speaks, in a voice that for years has made nothing but birdcalls.

            “…Cowbird.”

            A cowbird is a nest parasite that lays its eggs with another bird’s.  The young cowbird outgrows its nestmates, the host parents feeding it at their own chicks’ expense.  Not infrequently, it ends with the other chicks pushed out of the nest.

            He knows exactly who I am.

            He could have hated me if he wanted to.

            But he takes my hand and he closes it around the bird treat.

            I sort of want to fucking cry.  My parents lost a good boy.

            “Matt…”

            He doesn’t seem to be paying attention.

            Does he even remember that that was his name?

            “Pidge,” I say instead.  He looks at me.

            “Do you… want to come back home?”

            He’s looking at me but he just seems confused.

            “To your parents?”

            He doesn’t respond.  I’m starting to see it.  There’s something feral in his eyes, like he’s lost his own native language.

            I need Shiro.  Shiro always knows what to do.  I wish they’d let him into the garden.

            “Would you, uh… would you come with me?”

            I take a step away.  He doesn’t react.  I motion for him to follow.  He looks puzzled for a moment, then takes a step after me.

            They always said he was a smart cookie.

            The potion’s not wearing off yet but I want to hold his hand right now.  He seems like he doesn’t hate me but I kind of want to deserve that.

            And fuck, there’s a good chance I’m about to get him in trouble if we’re caught.  We’re taking a different path back, hopefully an empty one.  I’m sure he knows the area better than I do but I can’t really ask him for help.  Though I like to think my spatial skills are at least decent enough to find another way there.

            Every now and then he calls out to a bird.  Normally I’d worry about our position being given away, but fuck if he doesn’t do a flawless bird imitation.  We’re just a couple of robins passing through.

            After a while we reach the wall.  The castle is visible from a familiar angle so we can’t be TOO far away from Shiro.  Haven’t seen the footman yet, but honestly I’m not even sure he would try to stop me from doing this.  He HAS to know why I’m here.  Maybe he knows something I don’t.  Or just maybe, he’s okay with it.

            I like to think my people aren’t ALL bad.

            But of course, no footman means the wall’s still shut.  But I know I can get us through here somehow.

            Nothing fancy like the trick I saw.  Just concentrate on something simple.

            Combining one’s magic with that of the natural world.

            I touch one of the vines.  Take a breath, close my eyes.  Ask it if it’s interested in a cooperative project.

            For a moment, I can feel my awareness extend.  Like my body doesn’t end with me, like there’s a new self made of the greenery and the magic and me.

            When I open my eyes, the vine’s moved just enough for us to get through.

            I don’t need to tell Matt to follow me here.

            He looks at me like I’m the coolest person ever, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered.

            Shiro’s not that far away.  He comes over, but THIS time Matt doesn’t look scared.

            “You did good,” he smiles.

            I’m only smiling back a little bit.

            “Yeah.  Well… I think he doesn’t understand me.”

            Shiro says something to Matt.  Matt perks to attention and nods.

            I have no idea what Shiro just said but he says something else and Matt nods again.

            “You’re right,” Shiro says to me.  “He doesn’t.  At least, not very well.”

            Will it really do him any favors to bring him home?

            Shiro says something else to Matt in that strange language I’ve never heard.  I don’t know what it is but I feel like I’m intruding just by listening.

            Whatever it is, Matt seems to understand it just fine.  Even without replying verbally.

            It’s a language where every word sounds heartbreakingly beautiful.  It’s the language of the angels.  Maybe if I were human, I’d understand it too.

            Matt looks like he wants to cry.  Shiro takes him into his arms.

            I can only guess at what Shiro is saying – everything’s going to be all right, we’re going to take you home.

            Matt holds him tighter.

            If you could call Matt a bird whisperer, then Shiro is easily a whisperer of humans.  I wonder if all angels are like that.

            I would eventually learn that Shiro has a way of holding people into calmness.  That that’s what he was doing when the messenger came for his wings. 

            He runs a hand through Matt’s hair and starts singing to him.

            At first I figure it’s a song that only the angels know.  But I can tell just by looking, this is something Matt has heard before.

            It’s a lullaby.

            I can feel my fist tightening a little bit.  It strikes me that no one has ever sung ME a lullaby.  Maybe that’s why they’ve always made me a little bit angry.

            I may have ruined Matt’s life but that doesn’t mean I have nothing to be jealous about.

            It’s a beautiful song.  It takes me several moments to notice I’m rocking along to the rhythm.

            I’m starting to see something in my mind’s eye, not so much an image as a constellation of ideas.  My mother with her hand on my forehead.  My father talking to a god he doesn’t believe in.  Oxygen, morphine, the taste of my blood.  And a song that sounds a lot like this one.

            It’s probably not a real memory, morphine can make you see shit.  But just thinking about it makes me want to cry.

            Matt is quiet now.  He could practically be sleeping.  There really can’t be a better first responder out there than Shiro.

            He tells me that we’re ready to go.

Chapter Text

            One day I would talk to Shiro more about angels.  One day I would see the scars.  But tonight, he left me and Matt alone at our old front door.

            I look at Matt and realize I’ve never loved anyone in this way.

            He moves like he’s walking in a dream.  Like the world’s too bright, even at midnight, like he’s expecting to turn around and everything to be gone.

            Then he tries the door.  His parents have left it unlocked for me.

            Matt who had a whole life before this.  Matt who was best friends with a boy named Dylan.  Matt who loved birds, who loved his family.  Matt who never got to say goodbye.

            Welcome home.

            It’s only quiet for a moment before Gunther starts barking.

            He runs into the hall, his tail is wagging and he’s jumping all over Matt like a much younger dog.

            He’s never greeted me like that.

            Matt smiles and holds him back by the paws.  He kisses the dog on the nose and gets a face full of tongue.

            They remember each other.

            It must be the noise that brings my mother downstairs.

            Matt’s mother.

            There’s a light behind her in the stairwell and her footfalls are quiet on the steps.  She doesn’t believe in angels but I would swear right now she was one of them.

            She’s so beautiful I could cry.  I’ve never loved her more.

            “Hello, Katie.  So, is this your new boyfr…”

            She stops.  I swear I can hear her heart stopping too.

            Matt lets go of Gunther.  He looks like he’s seen the dead come back.

            “…Mom.”

            She looks between us.  She must think this is some kind of trick.

            She reaches out to touch him.

            I don’t know what it is she sees, the thing that never changed.  Something about him she might not even be able to name.

            I’m never going to know.  I’m not his mother.

            She moves in to hold him.

            “No!”

            He stops her with his hands.

            She looks hurt in a way I’ve never seen.

            Gently, he takes something out of his pocket.

            It’s a baby bird.

            It’s ugly and shit-stained.  It’s crying.

            She’s crying, too.  But she’s smiling.

            “I’ll bet his name is Pinky,” she whispers.  She lights her arms over his shoulders and leaves space for the bird.

            He’s probably dreamed about this for years.  I hope it’s everything he ever wanted.

            I wonder where I’m gonna sleep tonight.

            There’s a sound and I know it’s his dad coming down the stairs.

            My mom looks up.  There are tears on her face.

            “Sam.”

            Like it’s something they’ve been waiting for.  Like she knows he’d know what she means.

            Everything they’ve ever said when they thought I wasn’t listening bleeds into the room.

            He comes down to meet his son.

            They’re both holding him now.  Their child and his baby bird.  Their orphan and his orphan, too.

            He’s missed them, he loves them, I can see it even though he hardly speaks.

            All the lives I’ve ruined, right here.  Even Gunther.

            There’s something inside me, it burns like a pill full of iron.

            I love them so much.

            I’m sorry I did this to them.

            I step back.  I’m wondering if I should go.

            The man I’ve always called my father reaches out a hand.

            “Katie.”

            I let him pull me in.

            It’s never meant more to me.

            And I can’t help laughing just a little.

            Because it’s funny, that the first thing my mind goes to is all the legal shit that comes with adopting one’s own son straight off one’s doorstep.

            But I’m not worried.

            I know an angel who’s good at forging papers.