Chapter Text
Snow was falling outside, heavy and thick. It had been piling up in the window frames, but the wind had picked up a few minutes ago, and scoured the frames bare. The windows were rattling, enough that Nathan’s mom stood up and turned the volume on the television up a few notches, so that they could still hear the movie. She caught his eye when she turned to go back to her chair, and he smiled, a small little thing, but she smiled back, detoured enough to kiss the top of his head before she sat back down and picked up her knitting. Nathan burrowed deeper into the couch, pleased with the affection; beside him, Duke shifted in response to his movement, pushing further into Nathan’s space.
Nathan didn’t mind; it was cold, even under the big, colorful quilt his mom had taken out of the linen closet for them, and it was warmer the closer they were. Besides, Duke was always in his space, now, he’d gotten used to it. Kind of liked it, actually. He still didn’t understand it- Duke had gone from distant but not unfriendly, to downright mean, to aggressively protective and determined to be friends without a word of explanation- but so far, there was no sign of another shift, there was no trace of trickery in his closeness. And maybe it was stupid, maybe Nathan should be braced for another swing, but he didn’t want to be. He felt safe, when Duke was in his space, when he had one skinny arm slung over Nathan’s shoulders or was pressed against his side or was just hovering, near enough to reach out and touch whenever Nathan turned around- it was hard not to feel safe, when Duke was so quick to pick fights, lately, if someone was bothering Nathan.
Nathan reached over and tangled his fingers in Duke’s sweater, and the older boy stilled, some faint tension leaving his narrow shoulders. Nathan didn’t understand that, either, didn’t understand why Duke got nervous sometimes when Nathan’s mom came close, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t think Duke would like it if he asked, and it didn’t take much to calm him down, anyway. It wasn’t even that Duke didn’t like his mom- Duke had told him two nights ago, when they were tucked under the covers with a flashlight and a handful of comic books, that Nathan’s mom was one of his favorite people, that she was even nicer than Bill and Jeff’s mom. So it was strange, but it was just how Duke was, so Nathan would leave it alone.
On the television, Tod the fox and Copper the dog playfully chased each other around. They’d watched the same movie every afternoon of break so far- Nathan’s mom had suggested it the first afternoon, and Duke admitted that he hadn’t seen it. Personally, Nathan preferred Robin Hood, but Duke had latched on to The Fox and the Hound with a surprising amount of enthusiasm, and Nathan didn’t care enough to argue. There was comfort to be found in the routine; wake up, have breakfast, play outside for a few hours, come in, have lunch- grilled cheese sandwiches and apple slices and potato chips and hot chocolate with marshmallows- watch a movie while his mother worked on her knitting, play quietly or read or draw in his room for an hour or two, then dinner and another hour or two of playing before bed. Nathan found the predictability of it soothing, too much so to fret over what movie they were watching.
It was the best school break Nathan could remember, and he was very, very glad that his mother had invited Duke to stay with them while school was out. He hadn’t expected it, and neither had Duke, from the startled, wide-eyed look he’d given her when she’d asked the Thursday before school let out, but he’d nodded quick as anything and brought an extra bag with him to school the next day, a haphazard collection of clothes shoved carelessly inside. He’d still looked cautious, when they’d gotten off the schoolbus at Nathan’s stop, like he expected to be told to go home after all, but Nathan’s mom had just greeted him with the same calm, warm tone she always used, taken their backpacks and Duke’s bag, and sent them right back outside to play until dinner.
She hadn’t seemed surprised when, before bed that evening, Duke had nervously admitted he’d forgotten his toothbrush; she’d just taken an extra one out of the medicine cabinet for him. Duke had been very surprised to find that his things had miraculously sorted and folded themselves inside his bag. Nathan hadn’t cared, had been too busy disassembling the neat little bed that his mother had made out of blankets and a camping mattress on his floor in favor of piling the extra blankets on his own mattress, because that was where Duke was going to end up anyway, so they might as well skip the part where they tried to sort it out in the middle of the night.
They were almost at the end of the movie when the kitchen door opened and closed. The sound caused an instant change in the atmosphere of the room- Duke, still tucked against Nathan’s side, went completely stiff, shoulders tight and expression blank. Nathan’s heart raced, pounded just a little too loud in his ears, and his mother set aside her knitting, the motion deliberate and slow.
Nathan’s dad stomped across the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to look over the living room; his expression went tight and disapproving when he spotted Nathan and Duke on the couch, though it softened to something gentler when he looked at Nathan’s mother.
His mom stood up, crossed over to his dad and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he in turn kissed her forehead, but he didn’t quite lose the look of disapproval.
“You’re home early,” he heard his mother say, her voice pitched quiet, almost too quiet to hear- particularly as she ushered his father back into the kitchen, and around out of sight.
“Yah, well, with the storm comin’ in, it was leave early or get stuck, and not much point bein’ the fella in charge if I can’t occasionally sneak out early,” his father replied, and Nathan almost relaxed, because there was a warm, amused note in his voice- still plainly audible, though Nathan thought it probably wasn’t supposed to be.
“Well, dinner won’t be ready until six,” his mother said, still quiet. “The boys are almost done with their movie, though, if you’d like to come sit down?”
“Don’t really want to interrupt,” his father said, and the amusement was gone. “Know how I feel about this foolishness,” he added, and Nathan cringed, just a little. Duke obviously felt it, and he clenched his teeth and shifted a little, straightening up so that he wasn’t leaning against Nathan anymore, pulling Nathan in instead to lean against him.
“Be nice, Garland,” his mother said, just a hint of reprimand in her tone. “It’s not foolishness.”
“It’s exactly that, Adelaide, and don’t you try to tell me different! You know it is, you know what that boy’s set to become-”
“No, I don’t,” Nathan’s mother replied, her tone sharp. “And neither do you. And it doesn’t matter one whit what you or I think, or even what Lucy thought- and you know she’d have agreed with me, don’t pretend you don’t. Nathan’s happy, he’s spent all week happy, he’s laughing and going outside and they even had a snowball fight with the other children on the street yesterday, and you know it wasn’t Nathan who organized it, you know he would have come straight inside if Duke wasn’t with him. If he’s having bad dreams, he hasn’t said anything to me about it, and he certainly looks like he’s getting more sleep than usual- why do you think that is, Garland?”
“Addie, sweetheart, come on now,” his father said, quiet and disappointed. “You know I only want what’s best for him, you know that, but this’s only going to end bad, it’s only going to set him up for trouble down the road! I don’t want him getting hurt.”
“I know you don’t,” his mother said, something warm and real in her voice, “I know. I know you’re trying to protect him. But right now, you telling him that his only real friend isn’t worth having isn’t going to do any good for either of them. They’re good for each other, Gar, and a little bit of hospitality isn’t so terrible a thing to offer when it makes Nathan happy. And you know- it’s been barely twenty degrees this week, and only getting colder, and there’s no school lunches when there’s no school. He’s nine years old. Let the poor thing have a real break.”
“You know you can’t keep him, Addie, he’s not a stray you can just bring in,” his father said, but there was a note of resignation in his tone, now. “Fine. Just until school starts up again, though, I’m serious ‘bout that, and I still think it’s a bad idea.”
“We should. I don’t care what his father was, that little boy is harmless.”
“Harmless? Now, come on, you know that’s not true even without that other thing, that boy gets into more fights-”
“And thank goodness for that, because the number of bruises my son comes home with now-”
“Because he’s hitting the other boys, now! Not sure how much of it is he’s protecting our boy so much as just not beatin’ on him his own self! And you know it!”
“Keep your voice down, Garland, please. And yes, I know, I know very well, but whatever made that stop, it stuck, and the number of ice packs I’ve had to fix up for him because he was keeping someone else from hitting Nathan- they’re children, you can’t ask them to be more than that. It’s not sophisticated, it’s not elegant, but how many adults do you know who’d work that hard to make up for their mistakes?”
“You’re a kind soul, Addie, you want to see the best in everyone, you allus have,” his father said, dropping his voice, and there was something genuine in the words, something that almost undid the tight knot of unease and upset that had formed in Nathan’s stomach at hearing them argue- almost. He still felt queasy, shaky, because they were fighting about him- well, him and Duke, anyway- and he hated when they fought, hated that it was his fault.
Duke was just as tense, breathing too fast, eyes unfocused as he listened, straining to catch the words- his hands were balled into fists, and there was a tremble running through him that Nathan could feel. He looked like he did sometimes, when he wanted to run, and that scared Nathan nearly as much as the arguing did.
He caught one of Duke’s hands and pressed, wriggled his fingers until they were threaded through, until Duke had no choice but to loosen the fist he’d made and twine his fingers around Nathan’s, and Nathan held on tight. Duke didn’t say anything, and neither did Nathan- but Duke stopped shaking, stopped looking like there was a chance he was going to bolt. Instead, he looked stubborn, chin jutting forward, brows drawn low.
Nathan would’ve smiled, if he wasn’t still feeling sick.
He’d lost track of the quiet conversation in the kitchen, in his distraction- and a sudden burst of sound from the movie- and he deliberately tried to only hear the television, tried to shut out whatever was being said behind them. It was another minute before his mom came back, looking a little more wan than she had when she left; she paused at the couch to put a hand on his shoulder, leaned in and kissed the top of his head again- then leaned over to do the same to Duke, who went very, very still. Nathan squeezed his hand under the blanket, and Duke slowly relaxed as Nathan’s mom went back to her chair and her knitting. A moment later, Nathan’s dad came back in as well; he paused next to the couch, too, but he did nothing more than reach out and ruffle Nathan’s hair before he headed to his recliner in the corner.
He ignored Duke, and Duke ignored him, and that was probably for the best- Nathan was too relieved by the small gesture of approval to think too hard about it, anyway.
“So, what’s this, then?” he asked after a moment, frowning at the television.
“The Fox and the Hound,” Nathan answered. “That’s Tod, he’s the fox. And that’s Copper. And the angry man is Slade.” He shifted a little, because things were looking grim for Copper and Slade, and even if he knew how it ended- and even if he didn’t much like Slade- well, it was still a little scary. Sometimes things didn’t go like they were supposed to, even if they had every time before.
On the screen, Copper hit the ground with an awful whine, and Tod- well on his way to escape- hesitated, and turned back.
“What’s that little fellow think he’s doing?” his dad asked, and Nathan shrugged, leaning into Duke’s side.
“He’s fighting the bear. The bear was gonna hurt Copper.”
“Weren’t they fighting, not more’n a minute ago?”
“Yeah, but that’s ‘cause Chief got hurt, and Copper’s angry.”
“Who’s Chief?”
“The other dog, he’s back at the farm, ‘cause he got hurt.”
“And the fox hurt him?”
“No, he got hit by a train. They were chasing Tod, and Copper tried to let Tod go, but Chief wouldn’t give up.”
“Why’d the dog want to let him go? That’s a hunting dog, they don’t exactly just give up on a good trail.”
“B’cause,” Nathan said, as patiently as he could, “they’re friends. They promised.”
Nathan, for all his explaining, still had his eyes glued to the screen- he missed the decidedly pointed look his father cast at his mother, and the equally pointed shrug she gave in return. He didn’t miss the way Duke leaned, just a little, or the way Duke held just a little tighter to his hand- Nathan squeezed back, reassuring.
“Ain’t all the promises in the world going to stop a hunter from hunting,” his father said, the words sure and final. “Can’t help it, it’s just what they do. It’s what they’re born and bred for, it’s in their blood.”
“Not Copper,” Nathan argued, pointing at the screen with his free hand. “See? He didn’t let Slade shoot Tod.”
“That’s not how it works, son, I’m sorry to say.” He did sound sorry, which was a little confusing, but Nathan was pretty sure his dad just didn’t know how to watch this kind of movie. Most of what his dad watched seemed to be cowboy movies, anyway, and they usually didn’t end until somebody got shot.
Nathan liked his movies better.
“Nathan, honey, why don’t you and Duke go play in your room for a little while, I’ll call you when it’s time for dinner,” his mother said, as the movie closed. There was something a little strained in her voice, and Nathan hopped up quickly, letting go of Duke’s hand as he stood.
“Okay,” he agreed, not wanting to add to that strain, and he moved to fold up the quilt so it wasn’t a mess. Duke stood just a little slower, and after a moment of watching Nathan fight with the blanket, took one end and helped.
They retreated to Nathan’s bedroom, and he closed the door and turned on the radio- if his parents were going to argue again, he didn’t want to hear it.
That night, after they had brushed their teeth and changed into their pyjamas and Nathan’s mom had come in to check on them and make sure they turned the light off, they curled up under the covers, Duke wriggling around until he was pressed up against Nathan’s back. He’d been quiet most of the afternoon, much quieter than usual; Nathan hadn’t pushed him to talk, even if it left him feeling a little unsure. He wasn’t used to having to hold up both ends of the conversation with Duke- usually that was Duke’s job, and Nathan was the one who could sit quietly. He was still quiet, for long enough that Nathan was almost asleep before he spoke.
“I don’t like it,” Duke said, the words quiet and thoughtful.
“Don’t like what?” Nathan asked, yawning.
“The end. They promised they were gonna be friends, but at the end, Copper stayed with Slade even though he was mean, and Tod went off with Vixie.” Duke sounded deeply unsatisfied, and Nathan wondered if he’d spent the whole afternoon worrying about it, if that’s what had made him so quiet.
“Copper had to stay, he was Slade’s dog,” Nathan pointed out.
“He could’ve run away,” Duke countered.
“Or Tod could’ve come back home,” Nathan said, because he didn’t think it was completely fair to expect Copper to leave everything behind. “Was Slade really going to keep trying to get him?”
“...Hunters hunt,” Duke said, after a long pause, sounding uncomfortable. “Maybe it still wasn’t safe.”
“Or maybe,” Nathan said, because it was obviously actually bothering Duke, “we just didn’t see the real end. Maybe Tod and Vixie went down the hill after that, and lived with Widow Tweed, and Tod went and visited Copper and Copper went and visited Tod and old Slade realized he’d been wrong the whole time anyway. Tod did save their lives. He fought a whole bear for them.”
“You think Vixie and Copper would’ve been friends, too?” Duke asked, sounding uncertain.
“Of course they would,” Nathan said firmly. “And they would all have adventures together.”
“...Okay,” Duke said, after a moment. “Yeah, okay. I like that better.”
“Then that’s how it ends.”
“Maybe tomorrow we can write it that way.”
“You can write it. I’ll draw the pictures.”
“Okay.” Duke sounded satisfied, and sleepy, and he curled up a little tighter. Nathan waited a few minutes, but Duke didn’t say anything else, so he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
He dreamed of dogs, and foxes, and things much worse than cartoon bears. When he started to stir himself awake, though, quiet whispers calmed him down. In the morning, all he remembered of the nightmare was that it ended.