ninefox | Fine Zinc Teeth

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Fine Zinc Teeth

There was a time Jedao would have said that half a century was barely any time; less than a mortal life, not more than two generations. But the world has changed so much since he first put the Americans' uniform on. Even the uniform has changed - they don't call dance halls dance halls any more, for another thing. But the smell of the place - sweat, desire, alcohol - that much is the same.

He slinks in under a stranger's face, although he doesn't disguise his own scent when he smiles, glittering, at the bouncer: a flashed lure that Fives might not even notice or recognize, let alone pursue. It took a few months to get someone to handle all the things which apparently needed handling for his "retirement", and a few more to track down one particular squad of decommissioned weretroops, out of thousands, mostly paperless, in the busiest city this side of the Pacific. But Jedao did find them.

He dances without keeping track of the time, lets his face slowly slide back to its default arrangement, lets his spine relearn how to hold him up without being army rigid. He has several drinks - people buy them for him, which is nice; one or two of them he even dances with until they can't keep up with him any more. Fives rotates from the receiving line onto the floor as the night wears on and patrons get drunker, and he maneuvers himself into Fives' line of view, always moving, twisting, flashing glances that catch on Fives' eyes as the beat hits. Slowly, as if by the whim of the music, he draws closer.

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"I wouldn't kill them," Jedao protests. "Just chase them a bit. The children would think it was hilarious."

He acquiesces to the tugging, though, even leans into Fives a bit, seemingly content with the arm over his shoulders.

"Well that's different, I suppose," Fives allows, grinning. "But still not today when I'm supposed to be bringing you home for dinner."

He feels the way the General leans into him and it feels like it makes his heart stutter for a moment. He knows he should drop his arm now that they're going the right way, but... the General isn't protesting, and he feels so compactly solid and smells- He smells right in a way nothing but his brothers ever do.

So he keeps his arm where it is and swallows nervously before adding, "But maybe some other time, if you want to come back," and watches the General sidelong for a reaction. "It would probably be best if there were someone there to keep them from calling Animal Control on the wild fox, after all...."

He smiles at the tentative invitation, then laughs at the idea of Animal Control, really.

"They'll be too busy taking pictures. But you can hold my shoes," he adds, by way of a magnanimous excuse.

Fives has to resist the urge to lean in and run his nose along the curve of the General's ear; even he knows that would be going entirely too far. But with him leaning against him like this, so he can feel the ripple of that bright, warm laugh... it's hard. He's not willing to let go, though. Not if the General isn't going to make him.

"Don't be too sure," he cautions, but he's grinning, almost trembling with eagerness at the realization he's being invited. "Have you seen how paranoid human parents are about their children? It's bizarre." Telling them not to climb trees or chase each other across the play structure... or pet the massive, strange 'dog' that's gotten loose and come to play.

"You can't run right up to them," Jedao explains, expansively. "You have to keep scooting away while the kids wander after you, so their parents are all busy yelling at the kids not to bother wild animals. Although that might work better for me."

Since he's actually wild, and smaller, and colorful in the way that makes small children terribly excited.

"... but I want to play with them," Fives protests, and there's definitely a plaintive note to it. Though he has had some luck with that, and so far managed to keep ahead of Animal Control the couple times that someone's called them on him.

"Tag is a game," Jedao points out.

"... I know." It's just not the game he wants to play. He wants to wrestle with them and chase them down the slide, lick their sticky faces and fingers, and get them to throw a ball or a frisbee for him. "I just... I like fetch and wrestling better." But wrestling was what had gotten Animal Control called on him last time.

"You need a stalking horse," Jedao surmises. "Sort of. Someone with a rope tug and people clothes to roll around with you and testify you're perfectly tame."

He lets it go one beat, but then continues before Fives can tell him whether any of his brothers are willing.

"I could do that."

He's already opened his mouth to answer, to tell him that Echo would, but he doesn't like looking awkward and ungainly in public with his prosthetics, and Hevy and Hardcase think he's kind of ridiculous for being so fascinated with kids... and Rex and Cody understand, but for at least partly the same reason he loves them so much they both avoid them like the plague. He supposes they all deal with what's been taken from them differently.

The General's answer, his offer, blindsides him completely, and his mouth just hangs open for a moment before he's grinning brightly, pulling the General in tighter against him and giving him an excited little shake. If he had a tail right now it would be wagging. "Really? You would?"

He laughs, a simply joyful sound.

"Sure. Why not?"

"I dunno, maybe because it's ridiculous for a grown man to want to roll around in the dirt and play with other peoples' children?" he answers, grimacing faintly. It has the sound of something being repeated, but also like it's something he's afraid might be true.

"I like children too," he says simply. "And being ridiculous. And you can't roll around in the dirt playing with adults anymore, more's the pity."

"You actually used to be able to?" he asks, laughing, then adds more quietly, "I'd still want to play with the children, even so."

"Wrestling was one of the first Olympic sports," Jedao reminisces, as if he were there, even though he definitely was not. "Buck naked and oiled up in the dust. Very prestigious. These days I think you have to pay for that."

"That sounds messy," he answers, imagining Rex and Cody's disapproval, then grins broadly. "And awesome. Probably almost as fun to watch as to do."

"Less messy than getting dirt all over your clothes, I guess," Jedao speculates. "Or easier to wash, at least, before all those machines."

"I just want to know how it didn't turn into an orgy." He can't imagine doing that and not being hard as a rock and panting for it.

"Humans are weird," Jedao says with a shrug.

"They are, but the little ones are cute." Fives grins at him and turns them left at the corner, then takes them about half a block down and stops them in front of a slightly ramshackle looking five story apartment building. It's clearly from at least the 19th century and doesn't look like it's been renovated since halfway through the 20th.

"I hope you don't mind stairs, we're on the top floor." Jedao can probably tell it's the right place by the heavy scent of wolf wafting from the building, he might even be able to identify some familiar scents if he remembers them well enough.

Fives is guiding them towards the stairs when a familiar face pops out of a top floor window. "Oh man, you're gonna be in trouble, little brother!" Hardcase hollers down, grinning, and then disappears back through the window before Fives can yell back at him.

Fives scowls up at the window then huffs and... tightens his grip on the General's shoulders as they head up the steps. "Ignore him," he mutters, but he's blushing a little bit and doesn't actually look at the General. "He's just being an asshole because he didn't pick up any work today."

"I don't think I could have gotten out of shape that quickly," Jedao murmurs, amused. "If I keel over like a delicate flower from the strain, you'll just have to carry me."

"Well now I'm just going to spend the whole walk up hoping for that," Fives teases, then finally drops his grip on the General's shoulders to hold the door open for him, and not take up the entire width of the narrow, scuffed stairs leading up and up and up. He keeps turning his head back to smile at him, though, and occasionally turns entirely to walk backwards up the stairs as he talks.

The building's just as ramshackle on the inside as the outside, but it's rich with the smell of cooking and people as the dinner hour approaches, and the scents of spices from all over the world fill the halls and stairwells as they make their way up. There's the sound of families behind many of the doors, and signs of children in the halls, as well as the presence of a few of them, running through the hallways or up or down the stairs, heading back to their own apartments for dinner to the tune of small thundering feet, parents' calls, and slamming doors.

"It's a good building," Fives tells the General as they make their way up, grinning at the children they pass and smiling a little more reservedly at the occasional adult neighbor. "Lots of families. And the rent's cheap because there's no air conditioning and it's not in the best shape." Or in a very good area. "But it's not actually dangerous or anything." He doesn't think. "And we got a huge space at the top for not too much money because it needed a lot of work and no one wanted to hike up and down all these stairs and do the repairs it needed. Everyone can use the roof, but no one minds Echo and Tup having a corner for a garden."

"Faithless sedition," Jedao accuses, with no heat. With all the glances and turns, Jedao has to be quite quick to keep Fives from catching Jedao watching is ass as they ascend, but the rewards are more than worth it.

"It feels like a good place," he says, and means it, the messiness of so many generations, the spices of half a dozen different cuisines, someone crying and someone singing and someone hanging laundry. It's warm with the rhythms of life.

Fives feels a quick spike of conditioned fear at the General's answer, but pushes it away immediately. This is the man who'd ultimately saved him from the firing squad, after all... and Dogma as well. He grins instead, laughs a little unsteadily. "Well, it is what I'm known for."

It's hard to make a joke of it, but he's worked hard to get to the point where he can, and then there's the building to talk about, and his brothers, neighbors to greet and skateboards and bikes left in the hallway to maneuver around. And he knows he has to be imagining it, but once when he turned back to the general he almost thought he caught the general looking quickly away from his ass. Wishful thinking, Echo would doubtless tell him, then give him another lecture about getting dangerously above himself.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees, and his grin is wider and warmer this time, pleased that the general feels the warmth of the place. "Mrs and Mrs. Cheong-Williams down the hall helped Rex learn how to cook, and took him and Cody to the thrift store on 8th to show them what kinds of kitchen things to get." He decides maybe he won't mention it was because Rex's first effort to feed them all after they'd moved in here had resulted in a fire on the stovetop, the smoke alarm going off, and all of them in the hallway with the windows wide open in the middle of winter trying to clear the smoke. The two women had taken pity on the gaggle of clearly incompetent brothers who'd moved in next door to them and taken them under the wing.

"What kind of kitchen things did they get? There's so many now." Jedao can do amazing things with one wok, a sharp knife, and a big spoon, but after almost sixty years of eating in mess halls, modern kitchens utterly bewilder him.

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