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Christine took a deep breath of the night air and smiled. She loved these late night walks under the full moon, and she was happy that she could still continue them now even after she was a married woman. She squeezed Erik’s hand in hers and looked up at him. He had foregone his mask this evening, which pleased her.
He smiled a toothy smile right back at her. He loved these walks too. The park was beautiful at night, and everything looked so different from this height. He loved, also, these moments alone with Christine.
Suddenly a movement from the other side of the park caught his eye. He stopped, standing stock still. Who was this person? He furrowed his brow. Perhaps they were not quite alone after all, despite the late hour.
Christine looked up at him, surprised that he’d stopped. She looked where he was looking.
“Oh, Erik, it’s okay—that’s just Phil—“
Philippe!!
“Hey! Hey! Petit enculé!” Erik shouted at him as loud as he could.
He hated Philippe with a fiery passion—the man, Raoul’s older brother, had previously said one of Christine’s outfits was not fashionable, and Erik had held a grudge ever since.
Christine stared in horror at her angel as he spewed vulgarities at the top of his voice.
“Tête de nœud! Queutard!”
“Erik!” Christine squealed. “Stop!”
“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Erik shouted at Philippe. “Ferme ta putain de gueule!”
Philippe looked confused and taken aback. Who was this man shouting such horrible things? Was he addressing him with these vulgarities? Did he know this man?
Christine was only glad that she could hide behind Erik and her brother-in-law likely wouldn’t recognize her from so far away.
“Erik, honey, it’s okay, you can stop now!” she pleaded as she tugged on his hand, trying to get him to continue walk with her.
“Va te faire foutre!” he screamed at Philippe, who suddenly turned and ran away as fast as he could.
“Erik, enough!” she begged, patting his hand.
Erik huffed and his eyes positively sparked as he watched Philippe run away in terror.
At last Erik turned and continued to walk with her, his shoulders still stiff from the confrontation.
“I know you mean well, dear,” Christine said gently. “But you really can’t do that.”
“He was offending me, Christine,” he said ominously. “His existence offends me.”
“I know, but he has a right to exist in a public place, Erik.”
“Does he?” he asked, curious and not convinced.
Christine merely sighed and smiled wryly. Her angel was certainly something.
They finished their walk and returned home. Raoul was already fast asleep in the bed, and Christine was quiet as she changed into her sleep clothes and crept under the covers next to him. Erik laid across the foot of the bed, where he always slept, and curled up in a ball as best he could in this height.
When they all awoke the next morning, Erik was small once again, as he always was when the moon was not full. Christine stretched and yawned. Raoul wrinkled his nose and sniffed hard, pulling the blanket up to cover his nose.
“What is that?” he asked in a hushed and disgusted voice. “What is that smell?”
Christine gave a lopsided smile and got out of bed, taking a large perfume bottle off of her vanity table and spritzing Erik with it numerous times.
“He jumped in the lake last night for a swim,” Christine explained, apologetic. “The water must have washed the perfume off.”
Raoul stared at the little creature as he stood up and extended his arms to bathe in the cloud of perfume. Somehow, learning Erik absolutely reeked without intervention should not have surprised him, but it did.
Erik still found ways to surprise him, really. He’d gotten used to talking to him, though, and found he wasn’t entirely disagreeable, at least when he wasn’t actively trying to be disagreeable. There were still points he did find disagreeable, however—and not just the seemingly random and unsettling he would say just to see Raoul’s reaction. Some things about Erik were entirely disagreeable even without any effort on Erik’s part.
Raoul was minding his own business on the couch one day, resting his mind from the psychic gardening he’d been all morning, when suddenly little Erik clambered up next to him, then sat on his lap.
Raoul smiled a wobbly smile. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. He knew it made Christine happy to see the two of them getting along. She glanced up from where she sat on the other side of the room, working on an alchemical embroidery project, and smiled.
“Hey there,” Raoul said, slightly awkward.
Erik was sitting on his leg, looking up at him with his face bare. Raoul noticed he wasn’t wearing shoes, and he didn’t really know how to feel about the foot pads and toe beans on the underside of Erik’s feet. On a cat they would be adorable, on Erik...
He was so distracted by Erik’s weird feet that he didn’t realize something was happening.
With a noise like a cat vomiting, Erik pitched forward, and coughed out an egg onto Raoul’s lap. Raoul screamed, horrified. He did the first thing he could think of, which was to shove Erik away from him. Erik tumbled to the ground, and Raoul sprang up, trying to get away from him. The egg fell to the ground and cracked.
“Raoul, don’t shove him!” Christine cried, leaping up.
She scooped the dazed Erik up off the ground, tears forming in her eyes.
“Did you see what he did?!” Raoul cringed away from them.
“It doesn’t matter,” she chided, rubbing Erik’s back as he clung to her and trembled. “You can’t treat him like that. He’s fragile!”
Raoul felt a wave of guilt. If he’d hurt the little fellow, even accidentally, he’d never hear the end of it.
“Is he okay?”
Christine set him on the couch cushion, touching his shoulder gently and kneeling down next to him. Erik refused to look at Raoul, rubbing his fists over his big eyes.
“Are you alright, Angel?” Christine asked softly.
“A bump on the head is all,” Erik said quietly, but he couldn’t hide the waver in his voice that betrayed the fact that he was crying.
Raoul left to get an ice pack. He brought it back and gave it to Christine, who gave it to Erik. He put it on his forehead, still not looking at Raoul.
“It broke,” Erik whispered.
“I know,” she said, full of sympathy.
She leaned in and hugged him, then picked him up and carried him to their bedroom.
Raoul felt a moment of panic upon hearing something was broken, but he quickly realized Erik was referring to the egg. He stared at the mess on the floor, feeling conflicted. He hadn’t meant to hurt Erik, but really—couldn’t he find someplace else to barf his gross eggs?
She came back a few minutes later, silent and somber, carrying a rag from the kitchen to clean the floor.
“I can clean it,” Raoul offered, but Christine paid him no mind, getting down on her knees to pick up the broken eggshell and wipe up what had spilled out.
She left for the kitchen again, and then went to check on Erik once more. When she came back out to the living room, she sat down next to an unsettled Raoul.
“I think you need to apologize to him,” she said quietly but firmly.
“Apologize? Christine, he puked on me—“
“No, it’s not like that! Raoul, Erik trusting you with his egg was a very big compliment to you... Before you shoved him to ground and broke that egg. It meant he trusted you, he felt comfortable with you... It really meant a lot to him. That was a very vulnerable moment for him, and he wanted to share that with you.”
“Oh,” Raoul breathed, and sunk down on the couch a little.
Why did he have to have such a gross way of bonding?
“I guess... I guess I really shouldn’t have pushed him away.”
“I’m glad you understand,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’ll bring you your pillow and blanket.”
“Huh?”
He straightened up a bit.
“To sleep out here tonight,” she said matter-of-factly. “I don’t think he’d want to share a bed with you right now.”
“But—but—but that’s my bed,” Raoul sputtered.
Christine frowned.
“I thought you understood.”
Raoul knew when he was beaten. He sighed deeply.
“Yeah, okay.”
The following day, Erik was eerily silent. He sat on the armrest of the couch, staring at Raoul as he tried to read the instruction manual of the new petrol-powered rowboat he’d purchased.
Christine appeared in the doorway, looked in the room, and cleared her throat.
“I know, I know,” Raoul told her as she left them in privacy.
He turned to Erik.
“I’m really sorry I shoved you yesterday,” he said. “Christine, uh, explained to me about your egg thing. I didn’t mean for it to break.”
Erik stared, face blank. Raoul’s eyes were drawn to the slight bruise on his forehead. He cleared his throat and continued.
“I’m hoping this won’t stand in the way of us being, I don’t know, friends or whatever.”
Erik stared.
“Look, I said I was sorry,” Raoul said, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t know how to make up to you, okay? It was an accident.”
Erik looked away, ignoring him.
“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” Raoul grumbled. “It’s not like it would have hatched anyway.”
Erik glared at him, his yellow eyes narrowing, and then he leapt off the couch and ran away on all fours.
“You probably just would have eaten it,” Raoul called after him.
Christine peeked in the room again, narrowing her eyes.
“Did you two make up?”
“Yes,” he lied.
But in truth things were rocky between them for the next month. Their relationship did not improve until after the following full moon.
Raoul was in bed next to his wife, fast asleep, when he was rudely awoken by freezing cold hands with sharp claws gripping him. His eyes flew open, and he had the briefest second to take in the image of Erik kneeling on the bed above him before Raoul found himself unceremoniously shoved out of the bed.
He hit the floor with a thud, and when he righted himself he found Erik had usurped his place next to Christine.
“He shoved me,” Raoul said, scandalized.
“You shoved him first, darling,” Christine said sleepily.
It only confirmed that she’d been holding a grudge over it. Raoul huffed.
“Christine,” he whined. “He’s in my spot.”
“Then go in his spot,” she said, slightly irritated.
Erik sniggered into Raoul’s pillow.
Raoul climbed up to the foot of the bed, muttering under his breath. It was that night that he realized Erik also had sharp claws on his toes and didn’t keep his feet under the blankets. The next morning he realized that he’d need to buy a new pillow, too, as his former one now reeked of stale perfume mixed with Erik’s stench.
But things seemed to go a little smoother from there. Erik had taken his revenge and seemed satisfied with it. He began to talk to him again, and though he was still often arrogant and aloof Raoul thought he could occasionally see care or concern peek through in his tone.
Erik accompanied them on many outings, usually in her wig. He was almost always silent when they were out in public—almost always.
They were at the park one day having a picnic on the Fred’s when someone let a small dog off its leash. The first thing it did with its freedom was make a beeline for Erik.
Raoul and Christine watched with horror as it approached, and Erik let the food in his mouth fall to the blanket as he realized what was about to happen.
“Monsieur! Monsieur! Please keep your dog away!” Raoul and Christine cried, trying to shoo the animal away.
It barked and barked and suddenly Erik snapped. He hissed as loud as he could, snarling, and threw a dinner roll at the dog. It bounced off its snout, and the dog blinked in confusion before barking again.
“Salaud! Get away from me!” Erik shouted.
The dog stood its ground, barking, and Erik stood his ground, shouting obscenities which echoed throughout the park. Christine buried her face in her hands, and even Raoul’s face turned red at the langue he was using.
Mothers covered the ears of their children. Teenagers stared in awe as they learned new vocabulary. Old people tutted and shook their heads and muttered about back in my day, faefolk minded their manners around humans.
The man caught up to his dog and grabbed it up, shamefaced, turning to leave without saying anything.
The little group at the picnic was quiet a long moment. Erik glared after the dog until it was out of sight, and then he sat down again.
“My dear, did you bring any cake, perhaps?” he asked Christine in a sweet voice.
Christine and Raoul exchanged a look. The incident that had just occurred was not spoken of.
But neither of them had forgotten it. Christine was more used to his outbursts, but it had made a bigger impression on Raoul.
When Raoul had to leave for a short business trip, he kissed Christine farewell and promised Erik, who was looking at him forlornly, that he would bring Erik and Christine both a gift when he returned.
Erik was surprised to find he missed the loud, offensive presence of Raoul in the house, and in the bed. The handful of days passed slowly, though it was nice to have Christine all to himself for a while.
It was the little things, really. He missed the hateful way Raoul breathed, the inhale and exhale that irritated him to no end. He missed Raoul’s stupid feet squirming around while he was trying to sleep at night, temping him with how easy it would be to bite off a toe or two. He found he even missed the way Raoul would stare at him like he wasn’t sure what to make of him. He was looking forward to seeing him again, though he’d never tell this to Christine.
When Raoul returned, it was with three of his shipmates from his expedition, which Erik hadn’t expected. He was shy around strangers.
Raoul hugged Christine in greeting. Erik was close behind, looking at everyone from behind his mask, his eyes shining through.
“Oh,” said one of the sailors. “You have your own gremlin?”
“Erik is an angel, not a gremlin,” Christine corrected with a smile.
The sailors exchanged glances with Raoul, who gave them a certain look. None of them challenged Christine.
To Erik’s dismay, the sailors were invited in to the living room. Where was his present? Raoul had promised. He followed them into the room.
They were all happily chattering away about utter nonsense and hardly noticed Erik.
Erik tugged on Raoul’s sleeve.
“What is it?” Raoul asked.
Erik blinked.
“What a lovely home you have!” said a sailor, and Raoul became distracted.
Raoul was forgetting the present! This wouldn’t do.
He tugged on the tail of the young man’s jacket. Raoul looked down, perplexed.
“What?”
Erik’s eyes were pleading.
“What is it?” He was beginning to be irritated.
“Raoul, dear, he’s very shy, remember?” Christine reminded him.
Raoul cocked an eyebrow. Erik wasn’t going to speak until the sailors had left, he realized. Well, whatever he wanted, he presumed it could wait.
They all sat down to a lovely conversation, and Raoul tried to ignore the tugs on his pant legs and his sleeves. The squirming hand going in his pants pocket, however, was harder to ignore.
“What! What is it?! What do you want??”
Erik squeezed his hands in the fabric of Raoul’s jacket, his big yellow eyes full of suffering.
“I think he wants his gift, dear,” Christine said. “You did promise him one.”
“Oh, right.”
He dug in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the gift.
“It’s a bandanna,” Raoul explained. “Come here, I’ll put it on you.”
Erik’s eyes widened. It was red! A red bandanna, just like the red scarf Christine often wore! They would match! He eagerly leaned up to Raoul so he could tie the fabric around his neck.
Raoul unfolded the bandanna and fastened it around him, adjusting the fabric this way and that.
“Turn around,” he told him.
Erik turned to face Raoul, his back to the sailors, who all immediately chuckled. Erik didn’t realize there was writing on the bandanna. Christine furrowed her brow, leaning over to read it more clearly.
There, in big letters, was the saying “Keep back! I’m a bit of a twat!”
“Raoul!” she gasped, scandalized.
“Well it’s true isn’t it?” Raoul asked.
Erik turned around, not certain why everyone but Christine was smiling at him. He patted the freshly made knot around his neck. They must all be jealous of him. Yes, that’s what it was! He looked so very fine right now, he was certain of it. They all wished they were him. Poor bastards.
Christine presses her lips together and said nothing. She loved her angel very much, but there was really no denying that he was, in fact, a bit of a twat. Maybe this would keep dogs away from him at the park, at least.
Erik wore the bandanna nonstop for weeks, enjoying it too much to take off. When he finally did remove it one day, he made no comment about the writing on it. Christine couldn’t tell if that was because he didn’t know what a twat was or he did and simply agreed with it. At the very least, he didn’t seem offended by it.
A few months passed in comfortable companionship. Raoul tried his best to be as kind as he could to Erik, which was slightly difficult at times.
He was, however, a man capable of learning from his mistakes.
When Erik approached him one day and handed him an egg—still warm—Raoul suppressed his revulsion as he held the thing in his hand. Erik, his gift given, and perhaps not wanting to be roughly pushed to the floor again, ran off without a word. Raoul stopped gagging long enough to shout an almost convincing thank you after Erik.
He gently set what he desperately hoped would be breakfast and not some kind of offspring on the couch cushion and went off to find Christine, who would know what to do next. He sighed, feeling the need to wash the sticky residue off his hand now, and shook his head a little.
The things he did for love.