Chapter Text
Brushbuddy had lived among humans long enough to reach several conclusions about their reproductive habits.
First and foremost, humans were extraordinarily inefficient. Among sensible creatures, courtship followed an established sequence. One identified a suitable mate, demonstrated one's fitness through a series of seasonal displays, constructed a burrow, and produced a litter. The arrangement was generally straightforward.
The dominant partner was responsible for establishing territory, presenting the hindquarters, and demonstrating the quality of its tail. The receiving partner evaluated the display, provided an appropriate response, and participated in the construction of the shared nest. Once the pair bond was established, the partners cooperated in raising their young.
This was how things ought to be. But the humans…
The tall one and the warm one had already constructed a perfectly serviceable burrow. It was large, dry, and generally maintained at a comfortable temperature. Food was plentiful, although Brushbuddy considered the household's storage practices deeply irresponsible. Humans routinely left perfectly edible things sitting in cupboards rather than burying them for later retrieval. Nevertheless, the burrow was adequate.
They had also produced a litter. Four young females, all apparently healthy, although none possessed a proper tail. Brushbuddy had initially considered this unremarkable. Young Brushbuddies were born with tiny tails, which grew longer and fuller as they matured. A juvenile's tail was often little more than a tuft, and its eventual size and shape could not be reliably predicted until adolescence. The humans' young were still developing. Perhaps their tails simply hadn't grown in yet. It was also possible that they had inherited the unfortunate tailless condition of their parents.
Brushbuddy had seen unusual hereditary traits before. Some Brushbuddies possessed exceptionally long bristles, others unusually short legs, and a few were born with tails that curled tightly in a spiral. A completely absent tail would be inconvenient, certainly, but not necessarily debilitating. Still, Brushbuddy hoped for the best.
The young varied considerably in appearance and temperament, suggesting that human reproduction was substantially more complicated than Brushbuddy had originally believed. The pink one was exceptionally energetic. The blue, quiet one was observant and inclined toward constructing shiny objects. The blonde-green one was curious to the point of recklessness. And the dark, curly-haired one was territorial. They were noisy, certainly, and occasionally threatened the structural integrity of the burrow, but this was normal juvenile behavior.
The problem was the adults.
They had completed every meaningful stage of the reproductive process: they had a burrow and a litter, and they shared responsibility for feeding and protecting the young.
Yet, inexplicably, they continued courting.
The tall one was particularly devoted to provisioning. He brought food to the warm one at regular intervals: soup, bread, tea, small cakes, an elaborate bouquet of flowers made from apples, and occasionally a carefully wrapped portion of something left over from the previous evening's meal.
This was perfectly respectable behavior. Among brushbuddies, the presentation of food was an important indication of reproductive fitness. A partner capable of maintaining a reliable supply of nourishment was highly desirable, particularly during the early stages of raising a litter. The tall one appeared to understand this instinctively.
Unfortunately, he lacked the appropriate ceremonial technique. He did not present the food with a tail flourish, nor did he arrange it in a shallow depression lined with attractive leaves. He simply entered the warm one’s nest, placed the offering beside him, and said something like, “You haven’t eaten.”
The warm one generally responded with a complaint. “I’m working.”
“You’ve been working since breakfast,” the tall one would say with a smile. “Take a little break, Olly.”
Eventually, the warm one would accept the presented food. Brushbuddy considered this an established acceptance ritual, if unique to humans. It was unusually argumentative, but the outcome was satisfactory.
The warm one also engaged in provisioning, although his offerings were less conventional. He preferred constructing objects that produced light and heat. He closely watched the tall one’s behavior and deduced that a device that kept the tall one’s tea hot while he became distracted would be an excellent courtship offering.
The tall one invariably received each of the nesting gifts with delight. “Oh, Olly, this is so thoughtful,” he would say. The tall one would then touch the warm one’s arm, or squeeze his shoulder, or lean against him in a manner that suggested an imminent grooming ritual. This would pique Brushbuddy’s interest. Perhaps the pair would properly renew their mate bond.
But then the tall one would simply smile and leave; no grooming, no tail display, no nesting gifts, nothing.
Brushbuddy found the entire process exhausting.
There was also the matter of sleeping arrangements. The pair maintained separate nests. This was deeply peculiar. Among brushbuddies, established mates slept together whenever possible, preferably in a tightly curled arrangement that conserved heat and permitted mutual grooming. The humans occasionally slept together, but never with any consistency.
The tall one occasionally fell asleep in the warm one's nest. Sometimes he sat in the large chair with a book open across his lap; sometimes he curled onto the couch, still wearing his robes. The warm one invariably discovered him and then, instead of joining him, he would cover him with a blanket.
Brushbuddy had initially interpreted this as a nesting ritual. Perhaps the warm one was preparing the tall one for a period of prolonged rest while the tall one was preparing to produce another litter. This was concerning. The existing litter required considerable attention, and the warm one was already chronically sleep-deprived. Nevertheless, Brushbuddy watched with interest.
The warm one would arrange the blanket, adjust the tall one's pillow, and sometimes brush the hair away from his face. The tall one would make a pleased little sound. The warm one would smile. And then… he would return to work.
Brushbuddy had never encountered a species so determined to disrupt its own mating rituals.
The problem became considerably more urgent when Brushbuddy observed the young beginning to display adolescent courtship behaviors.
This was a normal developmental stage. Young brushbuddies frequently rehearsed adult mating rituals before reaching reproductive maturity. They exchanged gifts, competed for territory, practiced grooming, and occasionally attempted to construct miniature burrows.
It was also around this age that their tails began to develop their adult shape. Brushbuddy had been monitoring the litter for signs of this important milestone. So far, nothing. Nevertheless, the young humans had begun practicing courtship behaviors, apparently undeterred by their anatomical disadvantage.
The pink one distributed compliments and small gifts with extraordinary enthusiasm; she appeared to be courting the entire household. Brushbuddy considered this inefficient but harmless.
The quiet one preferred making things; she produced carefully constructed objects, presented them to her companions, and observed their reactions with quiet satisfaction. An excellent provider.
The blonde-green one was especially interested in the world beyond the burrow. She frequently brought home unusual objects, asked endless questions, and enthusiastically praised the accomplishments of her littermates. Her behavior attracted considerable attention from the dark, curly-haired one. This was where matters became complicated.
The curly-haired one had begun following the blonde-green one around the burrow, though not openly. She was apparently attempting a sophisticated territorial courtship. She positioned herself nearby while pretending to be occupied with unrelated tasks, she brought the blonde-green one drawing materials she had not requested, she became agitated when the blonde-green one praised another human's work, and she frequently watched the blonde-green one when she believed herself unobserved.
Brushbuddy recognized the signs immediately: this was the formation of a new pair bond. Unfortunately, the blonde-green one appeared oblivious.
One afternoon, the curly-haired one presented her with a carefully selected assortment of drawing materials. The blonde-green one examined them. “Oh, Agott! These are wonderful!”
The curly-haired one displayed a color-changing behavior, the skin of her face turning red. “They’re just spare materials,” she said.
“But they’re exactly what I needed! Thank you!” The blonde-green one smiled and the curly-haired one looked away.
Brushbuddy sighed. The poor creature had inherited the warm one's complete inability to conduct a successful courtship and the blonde-green one had inherited the tall one's inability to recognize one. It was bad enough that neither possessed a tail with which to communicate her intentions.
Brushbuddy had hoped the younger generation might compensate through improved social instincts… Apparently not.
It suspected the entire litter was doomed.
The most significant incident occurred on an otherwise ordinary afternoon. The tall one had entered the warm one’s nest shortly after midday carrying a book under one arm. The warm one was occupied with spilling ink all over paper in funny little designs and did not immediately look up.
“Mind if I read in here for a while?” the tall one asked.
“Make yourself comfortable,” the warm one said but didn’t look up from his doodles. The tall one smiled.
Brushbuddy observed this exchange from its spot on the warm one’s lap with mild interest.
The tall one settled onto the couch. He read for a short while, eventually grew quiet, and ultimately fell asleep. That was not unusual, but what happened next was remarkable.
The tall one had rolled onto his stomach, his face turned into the pillow and his arms arranged loosely around it. His robes had shifted, leaving the lower portion of his body slightly elevated beneath the fabric. Brushbuddy went very still. It knew this posture: presentation.
Among Brushbuddies, the presentation of the hindquarters was among the most important displays of reproductive dominance. The presenting partner elevated its tail, demonstrating confidence, physical fitness, and a willingness to establish a new pair bond. The prospective mate was expected to approach and inspect the display.
It was an unmistakable declaration and the tall one was performing it right there in the warm one’s nest!
Unfortunately, there was a problem. The tall one did not possess a tail. Brushbuddy had long since accepted this unfortunate anatomical limitation, but never had its consequences been so apparent. A proper tail was essential to the presentation ritual. Without one, the display lacked its central visual element.
Brushbuddy considered the situation. The tall one was sleeping, which was unconventional. Most brushbuddies remained conscious throughout courtship displays. Nevertheless, the posture was correct and the warm one was nearby.
Brushbuddy would not let this important opportunity pass. Brushbuddy climbed onto the couch, scrambled over the tall one's back, negotiated the folds of his robes, and settled triumphantly upon his hindquarters. There—a tail.
This was no juvenile tuft, either—it was the tail of a fully grown, exceptionally handsome, mature brushbuddy in prime mating condition. Brushbuddy arranged its body into a magnificent curve, extended its bristles to their fullest, and held perfectly still. The effect was extraordinary. The tall one now presented a courtship display of exceptional quality.
Brushbuddy was very pleased with itself. It was not customary to lend one's tail to another creature during a mating ritual. Indeed, Brushbuddy was reasonably certain no such arrangement had ever been attempted before. But extraordinary circumstances called for extraordinary generosity. And the tall one was in desperate need of assistance.
All that remained was to summon the attention of the warm one.
It chirped.
Nothing.
It chirped again.
The warm one continued working.
Brushbuddy puffed in annoyance—honestly.
It chirped a third time, as loudly as its little lungs allowed.
The warm one looked up. “What’s all that racket?”
Brushbuddy straightened.
Behold.
The warm one stared. His gaze moved from Brushbuddy to the sleeping tall one, then back to Brushbuddy. For a moment, he appeared speechless. Excellent, the display had made an impression.
The warm one rose from his chair and approached the couch. Brushbuddy’s excitement mounted.
Yes.
He leaned over the tall one.
Yes.
He reached toward Brushbuddy.
YES.
And lifted it off the tall one’s beautiful presentation display. Brushbuddy froze, bewildered, as the warm one deposited it back on the workbench. “Can’t have you getting squished,” he said and gave Brushbuddy a little scratch on the head.
What?
Brushbuddy watched in mounting horror as the warm one retrieved a blanket, unfolded it, shook it out, and draped it over the tall one’s entire body covering the display. The warm one tucked the blanket around the tall one’s shoulders, adjusted the pillow below his cheek, and brushed a stray lock of pale hair away from the tall one’s face.
“Sleep well, Qifrey,” the warm one said. The tall one murmured something unintelligible in return which made the warm one smile. Then, he returned to the workbench.
Brushbuddy remained motionless. It had spent years observing the mating habits of these humans. It had endured their inefficient provisioning rituals, their inadequate grooming, their peculiar sleeping arrangements, and their complete disregard for proper tail presentation. Now, after all that effort, it had personally assisted in the most magnificent reproductive display ever attempted in the household. It had lent the tall one its own fully developed tail—its own tail—and the warm one had responded by putting the prospective mate to bed.
Brushbuddy was devastated. It considered attempting the display again, but the tall one was now well and truly asleep and the warm one was absorbed in his scribbles. Plus, the couch was very comfortable.
Brushbuddy climbed back onto the tall one’s hip and burrowed beneath the blanket.
There was no helping them.
The following morning brought another development.
The tall one was preparing breakfast. The warm one entered the kitchen, looking tired.
“Were you up late?” the tall one asked.
“I was working,” the warm one responded, his mouth stretching in a mighty yawn. His facial whiskers had grown in beautifully and were fluffier this morning than he normally groomed them. Among male brushbuddies, grooming one's whiskers that way would be a signal of fertility, but Brushbuddy wasn’t sure what to believe after the presentation display had been so tactlessly ignored.
“Rest up today, Olly,” the tall one said, handing the warm one a cup of tea. The tall one then laughed lightly and reached for the warm one’s face and brushed a small crumb from the warm one’s whiskers.
Brushbuddy was immediately on high alert. Grooming! At last! The tall one had initiated the final stage of the pair-bond renewal that came before nesting.
The warm one went very still, looking at the tall one. Brushbuddy waited. And waited. And waited. And began waving its arms in utter frustration toward the tall one—groom him back!
The warm one cleared his throat. “Hey, I was saving that for later.” They chuckled and returned to their meal.
Brushbuddy stared, its arms falling limply at its sides. That was it? No reciprocal grooming? No nesting? Not even a tiny, token tail shake?
Brushbuddy curled itself into a tiny ball and squeezed its eyes shut. It had never encountered such a profoundly incompetent mating pair.
Across the table, the curly-haired young one was attempting to offer the blonde-green one the last piece of bread. The blonde-green one insisted that she take it instead. They argued politely for nearly a minute.
Brushbuddy was filled with an overwhelming sense of despair—the condition was hereditary.
That evening, the warm one settled into the cushions of the couch in his nest. Brushbuddy immediately climbed into his lap. This was the one aspect of human domestic life that required no improvement—the warm one was an excellent source of heat.
The tall one entered the nest carrying a cup of a liquid that had a strong, rotten odor. “Thought you might like a night cap,” he said.
The warm one looked up, his expression softening. “You always know just what I need.” The tall one walked over to stand beside the warm one and Brushbuddy, passing the foul-smelling cup to the warm one.
Then, without apparent reason, the tall one leaned down and rested his forehead briefly against the warm one's.
Brushbuddy went rigid. Pressing heads together was often the immediate precursor to mating. Perhaps the pair bond would be finally renewed if the warm one responded appropriately. Brushbuddy had its reservations about bringing an additional litter into the burrow, but the perpetual courtship was enough to drive a tiny fuzzy creature insane.
“Don’t stay up too late,” the tall one said, straightening again.
“Night, Qifrey.” The warm one lifted the cup in a motion that was meaningless to Brushbuddy, but he had seen them do it before with the smelly liquid.
“Night, Olly.”
The tall one left. Brushbuddy stared after him. The warm one took a deep drink of the liquid and set it aside so he could rest one hand on Brushbuddy’s back and flip the page of his book with his other hand.
There was a long silence.
Then Brushbuddy turned around three times, settled into the warm one's lap, and buried its face beneath its own tail.
There was no helping them.
Brushbuddy had begun to suspect that the humans were simply incapable of completing the mating ritual. Perhaps this explained their unusual burrow—perhaps the pair-bond had never been properly established to begin with. Perhaps the four young had been acquired through some alternative reproductive process.
Brushbuddy had no idea; humans were strange.
Nevertheless, the burrow was warm, the litter was healthy, the tall one provided food, and the warm one provided excellent nesting materials. Despite their remarkable incompetence, the pair appeared deeply attached to one another. Brushbuddy supposed this was sufficient for raising the juveniles, if nothing else.
It had almost reconciled itself to the situation when the tall one entered the nest carrying a plate of food, naturally. The warm one looked up from his doodles. “You didn’t have to bring me food.”
“You haven’t been down to eat since breakfast,” the tall one said, placing the plate of food beside the warm one’s scribbles.
“I was going to,” the warm one argued.
“Of course you were.”
The warm one looked at the food, then up at the tall one. “Thanks, Qifrey.”
Brushbuddy observed the exchange with profound resignation. Provisioning, again. At this point, it was difficult to imagine what further benefit either human expected to derive from the ritual. They had been provisioning for years, the burrow was full, the litter was nearly grown, there was simply no reason to continue if they did not intend to have another litter.
The tall one sat beside the warm one, laughing easily at something the warm one said. The tall one reached over and straightened the warm one’s collar.
Brushbuddy stirred. Grooming, possibly?
The warm one caught the tall one's hand before he could withdraw it.
Brushbuddy became attentive—this was new.
The tall one looked down at their joined hands and smiled in a peculiar fashion. “Olly.”
The warm one smiled back.
Brushbuddy lifted its head. Perhaps—
“Close your eyes, Puffpuff,” the tall one said. Before Brushbuddy could register the insult, a hand descended over its face. Darkness.
Brushbuddy let out an indignant squeak.
The tall one laughed. The warm one made a low sound that Brushbuddy could not identify. There was a rustle of fabric. The warm one shifted under Brushbuddy. It attempted to turn its head to see, but the hand remained firmly in place.
This was intolerable. It had spent years conducting a rigorous observational study of human reproductive behavior. It had endured countless hours of inefficient provisioning, inadequate grooming, and failed displays. It had personally supplied the tall one with a magnificent tail. And now, at a moment of potentially significant behavioral development, it was being denied access to the evidence.
Brushbuddy chirped furiously.
“Qifrey,” the warm one said, sounding rather amused.
“Just one more?”
There was another rustle. The tall one made a pleased little noise.
Brushbuddy could feel the movement of his arm, but could see absolutely nothing. Perhaps the humans were exchanging nesting materials. Perhaps the warm one had finally presented a suitable gift. Perhaps—
The hand lifted. Brushbuddy blinked. The tall one was sitting very close to the warm one, now. Closer than before, certainly. The warm one’s hand was resting at the tall one’s waist. Both were displaying the color-changing behavior, though notably less prominently than the curly-haired one. Brushbuddy examined them carefully. No nesting materials had changed hands, no new burrow had been constructed, and neither human had acquired a tail. Whatever had occurred, it had evidently been another entirely pointless human ritual.
Brushbuddy deflated.
Then the tall one looked down. “Was that so terrible, Puffpuff?”
Brushbuddy waved its front arms in protest, pawing where it could reach at the tall one.
The warm one laughed. “Don’t think he likes the name, Qifrey.”
Brushbuddy settled into the warm one's lap, thoroughly disgusted.
The humans remained close together, speaking softly. The tall one rested a hand against the warm one's shoulder. The warm one looked at him with an expression Brushbuddy had observed many times before.
Nothing had changed—absolutely nothing.
The burrow was warm, the litter was healthy; the pair bond, however unconventional, remained intact. Brushbuddy supposed that was enough.
It tucked its magnificent, fully developed tail around itself and closed its eyes.
After all, there was no pressing need for another litter. Four was quite enough.