Nashville was picking up the wooden bo-ken, when his father told him to stop.  This puzzled Nash, as they were both dressed in their sparring outfits, which consisted of sweatpants and muscle shirts.  That usually meant that they going to spar.  Why else had Brooklyn summoned him to the weapons room?  

	The weapons room was where the clan had kept all of their medieval European and feudal Japanese melee weapons.  Broadswords, shorts words, katanas, wakashi swords, shields, sais, nunchaku, naginatas, morning stars, halberts, and an assortment of other weapons, and their wooden training counter parts, adorned the walls of the room.  On one side was the weapons of the east, his mother's weapons, and on the other side, his father's weapons.  The weapons of the west.  Brooklyn was standing on the western side.  

	"Come here, Nash," Brooklyn said.  Nash looked at his dad, and walked over to where his father was standing.  Brooklyn wore his instructor's face, as always.  A face that commanded respect from anyone, including and especially his only son.  Nashville didn't need that face to respect Brooklyn.  He adored his father, idolized him.  He wanted to be just like him, someday.  

	Brooklyn was looking up at the medieval wall of weaponry.  The weapons were rather foreign to him, as for most of his life, he had preferred the weapons that his mother with which his mother taught him.  Now, it seemed as if his dad wanted to learn about the warfare on his side of the family.  

	Looking up at the wall, Nash was somewhat frightened by what he saw, and at the same time, impressed.  The weapons were big and fierce, a stark contrast to the razor thin swords his mother wielded.  As much as he was intimidated by the dark aged weapons, he found that he couldn't wait to start learning with them.

	He looked at Brooklyn, who smiled and jerked his head at the wall.  So many  weapons from which to choose.  He looked first at the claymore sword, which looked to be longer than he was tall.  He looked then at the mace, which reminded him far too much of a certain nemesis of theirs.  The halbert and pike looked like it was meant for mass infantry and anti-cavalry, so it was out.  The battle-ax looked to ungainly for someone of his training, as did the morning star.

	Then he saw what he was looking for.  The short-sword, and the shield to go with it.  Nash loved learning new things, and he had always fought and trained with the double grip on his bo-ken.  Now, he was about to train in a weapon he had never used before, in a style he had never used before.  

	"You've never trained with a shield," his father pointed out.  "Are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable with perhaps the broadsword?" 

	The broadsword did look to be the length of a Katana, and it's grip was enough big enough for two hands.  But Nash always thought the sword and shield was an interesting combination.  

	"Since we're trying something new, I want to see what a single grip feels like."

	Brooklyn nodded approvingly.  Nash was about to take it down, when his father stopped him by gently grabbing his forearm.  Before he could ask what the problem was, he watched the older male first pull off his tank top, and them casually step out of his sweat pants, leaving him naked except for his fundoshi loincloth.  

	Nashville was at a loss for words, as he had no idea what Brooklyn was up to.  The red male simply stared back at him.  

	"Well?"  He said, his muscled arms crossed across his firm chest.  Even at his age, Brooklyn was in great shape.  Nash had no choice but to notice this, and he found himself gawking at his father's body.  But he didn't know what Brooklyn was wanting.

	"Um, what are you doing?"  the blue male asked finally.  Brooklyn had never done this before.  Sure, Nash had seen him in his traditional medieval loincloth, but that was different.  That garment had two hanging flaps that provided a degree of modesty, and it somewhat hid what Nash had a clear view of now.  The front of the garment had a noticeable weight to it, and the back of it rode up between Brooklyn's buttocks.  

	"I know we've never done anything like this before, but I still want to try it.  This allows for ultimate flexibility and freedom of movement.  Well, other than going naked.  Come on.  Try it.  You've nothing to be ashamed of."  

	Nashville thought to himself, and then remembered what he was wearing for an undergarment.  He trusted his father, and he knew he wouldn't suggest anything that wouldn't work.  And truth be told, since his recent growth spurt and muscle gain, The tank top and the windbreaker pants that he was wearing were feeling a little too constricting.  ANd he wanted his father to be able to see how far he had come in his physical fitness.  

	Nashville pulled his wife beater over his head and threw it in the same pile of clothes as his father's.  Then, with slight trepidation, he pulled down his pants, letting his father see him in nothing but the thong underwear he had chosen to wear that night.  

	Upon seeing the garment, Brooklyn couldn't help but let out a chuckle.  Nashville almost turned as red as his father.

	"Hey, you said I didn't have anything to be ashamed of!"  Nash was indignant.  
	
	"I'm sorry, you're right.  It's just that, well, why thong?  I took you for a briefs man, myself."  Brooklyn was looking at him quizzically.

	"Well, I tried other types of underwear, but I like the, um,…" Nashville didn't know how to modestly put it, but Brooklyn did.

	"The sense of stability?"  Brooklyn grabbed the sides of his fundoshi and gave them a snap, inadvertently straining the garment against his….person.

	Nash had to giggle at that.  

	"Yeah.  Plus, the fundoshi seemed to grant you some comfort, and since I didn't know how to fasten one myself….."

	"Right,"  Brooklyn said, nodding.  "That's something I'll eventually have to teach you as well."

	Nash couldn't imagine what that lesson was going to be like.  Before he could ponder, however, Brooklyn picked up his two-handed wooden longsword, and walked to the center of the training mat.  Nash's eyes were inexplicably drawn to his father's hindquarters.  

	Snapping himself out of his little trance, Nashville picked p his wooden sword and shield, slid his arms through the straps of the shield, and walked over to where his half naked father was standing.  Nash was suddenly white self aware of his own undergarment riding tight up his rear.  

	Both gargoyles held up their weapons in a ready stance.  They held out their wings, ready for combat.  Brooklyn had been teaching his son how to utilize his wings in fighting, but Nash was still trying to learn how to properly hold out a sword with only one hand

	Brooklyn, however, was already brining his sword down in a slow, overhead arc.  It was just slow enough to allow Nash to bring up his sword to block the blow.  Brooklyn pulled back.

	"Lesson one of sword-and-shield combat."  Brooklyn said, giving his son a stern look. "that sword will look much prettier without nicks and scratches it it."  He held up his arm in an overhead block.

	Nash got the idea, and felt rather foolish.  That feeling went away as he caught a second blow sideways with his shield this time.  Brooklyn wasn't striking hard or fast.  He was teaching his son.  He pulled back and thrust at Nash's exposed chest.  Nash was always a fast learner, and the thrust was neatly deflected.  But the attack didn't stop there.  

	The green gargoyle stayed focused as his father drove him back, catching every hit with his wooden shield.  So focused on his defense that by the time he felt his foot hit the wall, Brooklyn was taking advantage of that sudden distraction and holding the point of his sword directly towards Nash's stomach, tickling him slightly.  

	"Lesson two of sword and shield combat."  Nash didn't need to be told anything else.  Brooklyn drew back, just in time to go on defense himself as his son lunged at him with a rather awkward thrust, which was blocked by Brooklyn's sword just in time.

	The older gargoyles allowed his son to practice offense, this time.  Nash was having a difficult time getting past the longsword's reach, but he was, of course, a quick learner.  He used his shield to push the longsword out of his way, and now his own sword was resting on his father's collarbone.  

	Brooklyn smiled.  "Now you're catching on.  Let's go a little faster, now."  And with that, Brooklyn swung the sword in an upward arc.  Nash barely had time to parry the attack with his shield, having to turn his body sideways, as Brooklyn swung towards his sword arm.  Now he was working up a sweat, an so was his father.

	Twenty minutes later, both gargoyles were breathing heavily.  Their skin was was covered in a fine layer of sweat, their undergarments were soaked, and Nash's muscled were very, VERY angry with him.  So much, that he was grateful when Brooklyn yelled for them to stop.  Catching their breaths, he and Nash put up the weapons.  By then, Nash had lost his consciousness about his near nakedness.

	Nash was walking towards the adjoining shower room, looking forward to a good rinse off, when he heard his father say, "Go get yourself a drink of water, and then come back."

	Nashville looked at Brooklyn puzzlingly.  They weren't done yet?  Brooklyn could be a tough teacher sometimes, he remembered.  

	He was bending over, drinking from the water fountain, when he felt a clawed hand run up between his wing joints.  Startled and shivering, he turned and say the red gargoyle smiling at him.  He was suddenly aware of his behind having been somewhat exposed.  

	Brooklyn bent down and took a long gulp of water himself.  Nash couldn't help but notice the way his tail was held up when he drank.  His white hair was plastered again his back between his wing joints.  He finished drinking and asked his son, "You ready?"

	"Ready for what?"  Nash's own hair was starting to fall out of his ponytail.  How his dad could fight with his hair down was beyond him.

	"Hand to hand, of course."  And with that, Brooklyn turned and walked towards the mat.  

	Hand to hand.  In what they were wearing?  With no protective gear?  What was the older male thinking?  Brooklyn beckoned his son towards him.

	"I know you're tired, and so am I,"  Brooklyn admitted.  "But in truth, that's the best time for training.    No gear except for our undies, of course.  So no striking.  Grappling only."  

	Nash's thong was a dark blue, but Brooklyn's fundoshi was just clear, white cloth, which had become white….revealing as he had gotten sweatier and sweatier.  Nash did his best not to stare.  Instead, he took up a combat-ready stance in front of his father.  

	With lighting speed, Brooklyn lashed out, and grabbed Nashville's wrist.  Suddenly, he was behind the young male, holding him tight against his chest.  Nash felt their slippery skins rub against  each other, as he used a technique he learned in a previous sparring session.  He took advantage of their slipperiness, and slid straight down out of Brooklyn's grasp.  He then reached back and pulled his father's legs sharply forward, standing up in the process.  

	Brooklyn fell back backwards and onto his back, but not before wrapping his tail around Nash's waist and pulling him down with him.  Now, both males were on the ground, fighting for dominance.  Brooklyn once more wrapped his arm around Nashville's chest, and Nash had to marvel at his father's strength.  He was about to try his previous slippery escape move, when Brooklyn caught him in a headlock, and Nash had no choice but to tap on his father's shoulder.

	Instantly, Brooklyn was on his feet, offering his hand to assist Nash back on to his own.  Nash just laid their for a moment, catching his breath, and looking up at Brooklyn's muscular, sweaty body.  By now, the fundoshi was completely soaked through, and slightly askew.  Brooklyn asked as if he hardly noticed.  

	Taking his dad's hand, he hopped back up.

	"I liked that,"  Brooklyn said, smiling and panting.  "They way you slid out.  You always have to be thinking on your feet in combat.  Now, put me in a headlock."

	Nash looked at his father queerly, and did as he was told.  He stepped behind Brooklyn and wrapped his arm around his neck, and the other one around the other male's muscular chest.  He squeezed tight, pressing his own chest tight against Brooklyn's equally muscular back. 	

	Suddenly, Brooklyn thrust his hips back, so they sere rubbing right up against Nashville's' crotch.  Before he had time to take in the awkwardness of the situation, he was flying over Brooklyn's shoulders and as quick as that, he was on his butt again, his neck once more wrapped in his instructor's arm.  

	He was yanked to his feet, and turned to face his father.  Of course, he couldn't be embarrassed about what had just happened.  Brooklyn was chosen to be the next clan leader for a reason.  he was an expert in combat.  He should have seen that move coming as well.  He had seen Brooklyn do it to a street thug while they were out on patrol.  

	Brooklyn put his arm on his boy's shoulder.  "How's your wedgie treating you, son?"

	It was the last thing he expected his father to ask him.  In truth, the small piece of cloth had ridden deep into his rear, and he was suddenly quite conscious of it.  It  also felt very tight, for some reason.  He reached behind to adjust it, but his father grabbed his hand instead.

	Brooklyn then turned around and lifted his tail to show off is own piece of underwear to his son.  The with cloth was completely hidden up his father's ass.  

	"See?  It's supposed to ride up like that," Brooklyn explained.  "Sure, it's not much for modesty, but I've always found it to be quite comfortable.  Haven't you?"
	
	In truth, Nashville agreed, and he nodded.  He liked the feel of the thin piece of cloth in between his buttocks.  As if to accentuate this, Brooklyn reached down and slightly tugged upward on Nash's thong.  Nash playfully did the same to his dad, and they shared a light laugh.

	Brooklyn then took both of his son's wrists, and stepped backwards.  Nashville recognized the combat stance, and grasped Brooklyn's wrists in return.  

	"Last match,"  Brooklyn said.  "Whoever is naked first, loses."

	"What?"  Nash barely had time to comprehend in unorthodox challenge before Brooklyn yanked him back.  The match was on.  The winner had to remove the opponent's underwear?  Fine.  Nash loved a challenge.   
	
	Nashville was trained well enough by his mother  to understand momentum in combat.  He allowed himself to be pulled in the direction of his father, only he leaped past Brooklyn, rolled once across the mat, and quickly gained his footing back.  He turned to face his opponent, who was already bulling towards him.  

	Katana had had favored Aikido as a fighting style, and so had her son.  Neatly and smoothly, Nash grabbed Brooklyn's outstretched arm, sidestepped, and reached for the fundoshi, just in time for his father to turn and grab his waist.  The two spilled to the ground in a mess of tangled limbs.  

	Both gargoyles were writhing against each other, desperately trying to find purchase on each other's undergarments.  Nash somehow found himself with his beak mere inches from the transparent fundoshi.  Fighting to ignore the sight before him, he grabbed the sides of the white garment and pulled.  Oddly enough, he felt no resistance from Brooklyn.  

	Nash yanked down the garment, but not without resistance from the front part.  He grabbed at his father's crotch, hooked his fingers in the front of the fundoshi, and pulled.  He couldn't help that his hand brushed up against something hot and fleshy.  

	Finally, the old-school underwear was pulled down off Brooklyn's feet, and Nashville stood up, feeling quite triumphant.  It wasn't everyday that he was able to beat his own dad in a wrestling match, especially a match with stakes and settings such as these.  He turned to face his naked opponent. 

	Nash couldn't help but smile at the site.  Brooklyn was on his side, unabashedly nude in front of his own son.  On his face was a smile as smug as Nash's.  He lay as if posing for a magazine shot, with one leg arched up, and something deep blue and color twirling around his fingers.  

	"I've never seen someone so happy to wind up in a tie," Brooklyn said, standing up.  "And you look to be getting even happier." 

	Nash looked down, and saw that blood was indeed gathering towards his groin area.  He turned almost as red and his dad.  He couldn't help but steal a look at Brooklyn's own genitals.  Seeing as how this was the first time he had seen his father in the nude, he was somewhat intrigued.  Except for a slight size difference, they looked identical to his own.  
	
	Brooklyn didn't seem the least bit embarrassed by his nudity, even in front of his own son.  He stood up and walked towards Nashville, and the young male felt his heart rate quicken.  He tried not to glance at his father's manhood bouncing between his legs.  Just my blood's up, Nash though.  That's all.  I'll have a cold shower, and call it a night.  		

	The red gargoyle walked up to Nash, grabbed the youngster, and spun him around to walk him towards the shower.  He threw his arm around they boy's shoulder, and smiled at him.

	"C'mon, champ," he said, chuckling lightly.  "We can do each other's backs.  And maybe work off some of that extra energy."