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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.
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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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."
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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?"
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"Sure. Why not?"
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"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."
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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."
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"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.
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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.
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"I learned how to make pancakes and eggs, so I can make breakfast most mornings. And Rex and Cody taught all of us to make noodles and rice." He sounds prouder of that than is probably justified, given what a basic skill cooking is, but it's not one that any of them had ever been given any opportunity to learn before coming here.
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He grins as they finally emerge into the top floor hallway. He can hear his brothers bickering behind their door down the hall, which means the general doubtless can too. Hevy and Hardcase wanting to throw the door open and greet the General in the hall, Cody telling them to settle down and be patient and help Tup today, and Rex yelling at them--probably from the kitchen--to settle the hell down and quit behaving like undisciplined pups. In an undertone to it all he can hear DB and Dogma both whining, DB in excitement and Dogma no doubt with anxiety.
Fives gives the General a slightly sheepish look then, raising his voice pointedly, announces, "Welcome to our home, General," and throws open the door to barely controlled chaos.
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"And who are you, then? Nice to meet you."
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"General Jedao, sir," Cody greets him without moving, even as DB wriggles and squirms forward to sniff excitedly at the General's hand and then lick first the hand, and then the General's face. "That's Echo's boy Dronebait, sir," Cody explains as Fives steps in after the General and crouches down as well to receive his share of the mostly grown pup's enthusiastic greeting, ignoring Cody's disapproving look as he does so.
"We managed to, ah, liberate him on our way out, General," Fives adds, grinning as he scruffs his nephew's ears enthusiastically. "Right DB? Did we come rescue you with Daddy? Huh?" DB wriggles more enthusiastically and butts right into the General's chest, apparently intent on knocking the newcomer over so he can give him a thorough greeting.
"DB! That's enough!" Cody orders and the pup immediately backs up a step and drops his backside to the floor. He can't quite stop squirming, but he's mostly doing it in one place now, with his tail thumping energetically at Hardcase's ankles. "General, sir, my apologies for Dronebait's behavior."
"Aw, he was just saying hi, Codes," Fives protests, cutting Cody off and stroking the top of DB's head once more as he gets to his feet.
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"I don't mind him," Jedao assures Cody, then waves a hand. "At ease, everybody, at ease forever, I'm retired," he announces, although there's no reproach in it for their hard-earned reflexes, and he flips Hardcase a Kennedy half dollar for winning the unspoken contest, because he is a terrible influence, grinning as he manages to catch it out of the air despite Hevy's scuffling attempts to intercept.
"Fives has been telling me stories about a roof garden, I'd love to see it," he adds, voice warmly hopeful without calling Tup out either by name or by gaze.
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