23 comments/ 114303 views/ 84 favorites Little Things Ch. 01 of 04 By: nomennescio There's a lot I don't like about how the following story turned out. A feeling of too much cliché, insufficiently compelling in emotional moments, places where things just didn't quite come together. I also don't really think that I've meaningfully captured a feminine perspective. But I've fixed it up about as well as I feel capable, and it's at least something done, so here it is. Do note that it proceeds at a fairly slow pace, without a large amount of 'action' - it's almost certainly not the right selection for quick relief. As it's rather long in its entirety, I've split it into four sections, each of which is somewhat more reasonable for reading in a single session. Hopefully, if you read it, you'll get something out of it. ---- The maturation of the 21st century has brought with it an increasing awareness, among governments and NGOs both, that conservation must be understood not just as restraint in development, but as an active process to protect and reinvigorate Earth's most fragile and threatened ecological systems. Wildlife and nature preserves, while noble in intent and certainly important to the future of environmentalism, are simply not enough. In many cases, the damage has already been done, and cordoning off an affected area of wilderness does no more good than quarantining a man with a knife in his back. My fingers drift uncertainly on the keyboard as I read back over my words, a disappointed frown curling my lips. Too strident, yes. The imagery, too violent. It won't do. With a sigh, I hold down delete until the final sentence vanishes into the bowels of the laptop. I hate beginnings. I'm no good at them - weaving webs of words to catch the casual reader, striking the perfect balance of linguistic artistry and logical argument. I'm not a writer. I want to plant trees. But to actually get paid for it, I need a degree, which means I have to pass Environmental Politics and Policy. Which means...beginnings. It'll keep. I can't concentrate, anyway. The clock keeps catching my eye. Just past eight now - I expected him to show up well over an hour ago. My cell phone's patiently charging on the desk; I pick it up, flip it open and closed a few times. It'd be the work of three buttons to call. But I'm supposed to be cool, confident. The college gal. I don't want to check in on him like a worried mother. Phone's back on the desk. I'll give him another half-hour. It doesn't take that long. Just ten minutes later, I'm getting a diet soda from the fridge when the doorbell finally rings, a harsh electric buzz that always sets my teeth on edge. "I've got it!" I jog lightly to the door, give just a quick glance through the peephole to confirm who stands on the opposite side. A smile tugs at my mouth as I pull it open. "Well, good evening, ma'am. I'm trying to find my sister's place, but I seem to be all turned around. Think you could help?" A goofy grin on his face - god, I'm still not used to him being taller than me, to looking up at him. Steel-blue eyes, soft and friendly, with his slightly bushy eyebrows held high in amusement. Sun-bronzed skin, earned the hard way, from long hours in the field. Wearing a rumpled blue button-up shirt and jeans, with a weekend bag slung over his shoulder, he looks like a man in the middle of a cross-country bus trip. "Davey!" Cool, confident...oh, what the hell. It's a reunion, after all. I swing in for a hug, arms straining to reach around his broad chest. He awkwardly returns it with his free hand. "Sure took your time, didn't you?" His sheepish look is the same as ever, self-conscious smile and averted eyes, but he laughs it off. "Sorry about that, sis. I missed a turn in La Grande and didn't realize for a while. Can I come in?" "Of course." Shoving the door the rest of the way open, I usher him inside. Should have cleaned up more while waiting; there's pens and papers strewn across the coffee table and on the floor, a pile of shredded plastic in the corner where my roommate's kitten was playing with a bag. Too late now. "Go ahead and toss your bag on the couch, or wherever. You can see we're pretty sloppy around here. How was the drive?" "Long." He stretches wide, his neck audibly cracking as he rolls it about. "Very long. I can see why you don't come down more often - about went crazy, ten hours in that seat with no one to talk to." Dropping his bag on the end of the couch, he turns his easy grin to me. "Still, it's nice to finally see your apartment. And to see you - what's it been, nine months?" "Near enough." A quick, cheerful shake of the head. "It's great to see you, too. I know I've said this before, but life just isn't the same without my baby brother following me around." I cluck my tongue once, softly. "Guess I can't even call you that anymore, now that you're big as a house." He laughs wryly. "I'm not gonna stop you. Wouldn't want to risk facing one of your noogies again, believe you me." Tilting his head to the side, his eyes unfocus as he looks past me. "Hello there. You must be one of Samantha's roommates, right?" I turn around to see Marie standing at the end of the hallway, one hand giving David a small wave of greeting while the other holds her kitten. Its eyes are half-closed with either sleepiness or bored contempt. "Yeah, you should meet the whole crew. Ape, get out here and say hi to my brother!" I call loudly down the hall. "Anyway, Marie, this is my brother David. David, Marie. She's pretty much a genius. Going to be a doctor - brain surgeon, right?" She's blushing. Been shy as long as I've known her, a little over two years now. "No! God, you always say that. No, I'm not certain what my specialty's going to be yet, but probably gastroenterology or endocrinology." "Well, that's all Greek to me, but it's nice to meet you." He grins brightly as he shakes her hand. "Likewise." Her gaze flits back and forth between David and me. "My word. You know, you two could be twins, you look so very much alike." I laugh. "Trust me, I know. That's the first thing everyone always says when they see us together." It's true, of course. We have the same hair, strawberry blond and slightly wavy - his just a bit shaggy, while mine hangs down to the base of my neck. The same eyes of pale blue, alert and gentle. For a long while we even had a similar build, allowing for the three years I have on him; athletic, but lean. Then he started with football, and piled on muscle like rock on a mountaintop. Only his slightly narrow jaw now carries that trace of delicacy. Really should tease him about that. "Well, hel-lo." Slinking slowly out from her room, my other roommate regards David with dark brown eyes and an avaricious smile. "This is a pleasure. Samantha's told us all about you." She glances at me for a moment, a look of sly amusement, before turning back to him with painted lips flirtatiously pursed. "Though she never mentioned how cute you are." I just roll my eyes. "David, this is April. She's the campus bike." With an awkward smile, David tears his eyes from April to look at me, his brow furrowing in perplexity. "The what, now?" Not always the sharpest knife in the drawer, this guy. "Oh, shush." April shoves me lightly and sidles up closer to David. "It's wonderful to finally meet you. I hope you'll be staying long enough for us to get to know each other." She tosses her head lightly to the side, a lock of unnaturally red hair falling to artfully obscure her right eye. "Hey, listen, Ape." Frowning, I catch her elbow and turn her grudgingly to face me, speaking under my breath in serious tones. "I'd like it if you left him alone, okay? My brother's pretty sensitive, and I don't think your kind of romance is quite what he needs." But now it's David who protests, albeit half-heartedly. "Sam, that's nice and all, but...I can handle myself, okay?" And then, turning back to April, he actually manages a flirtatious wink, adding "Though I'd rather not have to." She giggles back with well-practiced coyness. Surprise widens my eyes, drops my jaw. This isn't like him - David's always been quiet and unassuming, diffident despite my encouragements. Since we were in grade school we've been inseparable, and for all that time he's hidden in my shadow, while I've watched out for him, protected him, kept him out of trouble. Or at least, steered him to the best kind of trouble. Now he's outright flirting. I'd be proud of him if I weren't so shocked. And if it weren't with April -- he could do so much better. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, really. Almost three years now I've been away at college, and he's had to fend for himself. I could hardly expect him to stay just the same in all that time. But I feel like I might miss my adorably bashful little brother, the one who used to hide behind me when relatives came to visit, who was so uncomfortable with the telephone he would ask me to call up his friends. "Oh, you're both hopeless," I conceal my reaction with a groan and throw up my hands in mock disgust. "Whatever. Look, are you hungry? I've got a pizza in the fridge that went cold waiting for you, if you feel like stuffing your face with something." "Always do." His laugh rings out in a brief and gentle baritone as I lead the way to the kitchen, and we pass around soda and chips before settling in around the sofa. David, true to his word, wolfs down the cold slices as though he's been starved for weeks - I feel fat just from watching him eat. "So, um, David," Marie speaks up again, with a quiet voice and curious eyes. "What exactly brings you out here? Did you just come by to see your sister?" "Itsh-" Trying to answer with a mouthful of pizza, he sprays crumbs out across the coffee table, drawing barely suppressed laughter from the three of us. A touch of pink sneaks onto his cheeks, and he waits until swallowing before trying again. "Uh, it's not just that, though that's a big draw, too." He shoots a grin at me, and I feel a little better. "Mainly I'm here to check the college out, to see if I want to go." "Oh, you're examining your options. Naturally." She nods, with an understanding air. "Yeah, something like that. Never even really thought I was gonna get a chance, until recently. Sam probably mentioned that our folks aren't exactly rolling in cash. The farm does okay, but if you're not signed up with one of the big corporate names, things are a lot harder. You know how it is." Glancing at April and Marie's blank expressions, he chuckles briefly. "Well, maybe you don't." "But anyway, they barely even had enough money to send one of us to college, let alone both. So maybe five years back, we all sat down, talked it over, and figured that if only one of us could go, it should be Samantha. She's the smart one of the family, the one who would get the most out of coming here." I make as if to protest, but he waves me down. "Oh, don't make a fuss, now. It's true." "So I mean, I was all set to stick around at home, help my dad out with the farm. But then a couple months ago some recruiter was watching our game against Burley, and he comes around after and offers me a football scholarship, if you can believe it. Full tuition paid, room and board, and a little spending money, too." "That does sound like a good deal," April chimes in. "Why is there even a question about taking it?" Her raised eyebrow speaks of a more than casual interest. "Tired of the game? Girl back home?" "Not really." A laugh in his voice as his gaze jumps to me, and back to April. "No, it's more...I thought I knew what my future was gonna be. Had it all planned out. So just 'cause some new offer comes along, well, I'm not sure I want to change it just on the basis of that. And besides, the farm needs me. Dad says it's up to me, that things'll be okay down there no matter what I decide, but I know it's not as simple as that. So I want to make sure first that this is actually gonna do some good for me, at least. I'm not gonna run off just for the hell of it and leave him in the lurch." He grins crookedly. "Not sure if all that really makes any sense, but yeah." Shaking my head, a heartfelt smile on my lips, I reach over to give David's hair a friendly tousle. "That's my brother for you. Always thinking of his family. God, this one time -- it was at his eighth birthday party -- I lost my favorite bracelet, and he totally refused to go back inside until he found it. Had half the guests out hunting around in the snow." He sticks his tongue out at me. "Hey, I found it, didn't I?" "Oh, you found it, all right." A quick, sardonic snort. "Three hours later, with your face turning blue from the cold. You were sick for a week after that." "Charming," April utters blandly. I can't quite tell if she's being sarcastic or not. But then a speculative look climbs into her gaze. "You know, David, if you're trying to really get a feel for the college experience, I think I have something that'd be right up your alley." "Yeah?" He glances back at her. "What's that?" "Just stay right there." And, jumping to her feet, she scampers off into her bedroom, while Marie and I exchange a mildly exasperated glance, suspecting what's coming. A few seconds later she pops back out, and there's no mistaking the green glass cylinder clutched in her hand. "I've got enough herb left for a bowl or two; might as well use it while we have company, right?" As far as I know, David's never used drugs - the discomfort on his face certainly backs me up on that. "Ah...I don't really know if I should..." He looks to me uncertainly, and I feel a little surge of gratified responsibility. Guess he does still need my guidance, after all. "It's okay, Davey." I reassure him quietly as April gets water from the kitchen. "The stuff's harmless. I've had it dozens of times, and I haven't gone crazy yet." A tiny, self-deprecating smirk. "Or crazier, anyway." "I guess." He doesn't look entirely convinced, but he doesn't raise any more objections, either. Probably just doesn't want to look like a square in front of his big sister. Well, that works. I'm pretty far from a pothead myself; I mostly just smoke socially, when April feels like sharing what she gets from her friend-of-a-friend. It can be relaxing, when I'm stressed out from classes. April, of course, is another story. She's already gotten everything packed and ready. "You want the first hit, David?" She holds the bong out to him delicately, like a gift of fine china. He makes no effort to take it. "I think I'd better go last. Get a chance to, uh, see your technique." Shrugging, she sits down in the chair opposite him and lights up with a practiced ease, viscous white smoke filling the chamber and then her lungs. Marie takes the opportunity to bow out, rising to her feet with a faintly apologetic air. "I'm afraid I still have a fair bit of studying tonight that I'd like to approach with a clear head. You three have fun, though. And David, it was nice meeting you." He nods as she heads off to her room, while April blows twin streams of billowing smoke from her nose, grinning like a maniac. My turn next -- I take it slow, so David can see how it's done. It's kind of a weird feeling, doing this with his eyes on me, a little tickle of excitement at the center of my chest. Like I felt when we broke into the abandoned cement factory together. The thrill of the forbidden, I guess, his presence putting me in mind of my younger self. A shadow of uncertain worry crosses my consciousness, thinking of that. I hope I'm not being a bad influence on him. I mean, he'd probably try pot sooner or later anyway; better he does it here and now, where I can keep an eye on him, right? At least this way, I can be pretty sure the stuff is high-quality, and isn't laced with anything. I don't completely reassure myself by these thoughts, but I don't really need to. As the heady vapors swirl in my lungs, my momentary anxiety evaporates away, and I laugh out a few puffy clouds that drift and dissipate across the room. I'm being silly. Everything is fine. I hold in the rest until my lungs begin to itch, and then blow a thin stream of smoke that blooms into a kaleidoscopic array of whorls and vortices. Beautiful. "Ready to give it a try, Davey?" "Sure," he takes the bong out of my hands, and I can't help a little snigger at the look of bravado on his face. His mouth thin and serious, eyebrows straight and low...it's cute, and oh so transparent to anyone who knows him well. He doesn't do too badly for his first time, either, manages to light the thing with only a little fumbling, his cheeks puckering slightly as he seals his mouth to the chamber and inhales deeply. But he's only halfway through when he pulls back and coughs explosively, his hand moving to cover his mouth as the smoke forces its way back out of him. "Man," he coughs a few more times, smiles weakly. "That's, that's something." "Oh my god," April squeals quietly, as much to herself as to me. "He's so innocent." And like a wolf smelling prey, she gets to her feet and slinks up before him, bending at the waist to give him a deliberate look down the vee of her shirt as she brings her face near his. And he looks -- boy does he look, gawking like an idiot. I have to struggle to suppress an irritated groan. April's got the kind of breasts that plenty of women end up paying for, and she doesn't have a shred of shame about showing them off. I can tell myself that she'll be sagging by the time she hits thirty, but it doesn't make it feel any fairer right now. "You want me to give you a little lesson in smoking, David?" She's using her low, seductive voice. I feel like retching. "Uh...s-sure." Pink-cheeked and stammering, all his bravado looks to be pretty much gone by now. More the brother I know. I don't know if I should say something or not, intervene -- I've seen April pull this before, and there's no question where it's going. I hate the thought of her adding my brother to her list of conquests. But Christ, I don't want to be a killjoy. I know what guys are like. He's not a little kid anymore; this is probably a dream come true for him. So I just shut up and look half away, while she slips down boldly into his lap, takes the bong from his unresisting grasp. "Watch close, then," she coos, rubbing her hand suggestively at the thin glass cylinder. An easy, careless confidence in her manner as she flicks a tall flame from the small, pink lighter. Waves it back and forth a moment, hypnotically, before looking at him again with a serpentine smile. "You have to accept everything. Let it fill you up, but keep your breath moving, don't stop. And don't try to hold it in when it starts to itch. Just breathe it out again, slowly." She demonstrates, then, after a deliberate and showy licking of her lips. Applying the flame, the smoke bubbles up again thick and hazy, and I'm sure she's carefully considered the way her chest expands as she inhales it. Despite her instructions, she holds it in for a long few seconds after pulling her mouth away, two thin wisps escaping at the corners of her sly smile. Then, moving like liquid, she puts her mouth to David's and exhales into his lungs, smoke streaming outward as it escapes the imperfect seal of their lips. God damn it, I can't just sit here and watch this. I get stiffly to my feet, animated with tight-wound irritation. Sometimes she really gets on my nerves. This is supposed to be a chance for me to spend time with my brother, who I haven't seen in almost a year. But of course, since she likes the look of him, it has to turn into 'April gets fucked again.' No class. And no decency. "Have fun," I snarl bitingly as I tromp out of the room. April doesn't respond at all, but David mumbles something, muffled into incomprehensibility by their kiss. It just angers me further. Little Things Ch. 01 of 04 Slamming shut my bedroom door doesn't make me feel much better, either. I try to work on my paper for a few minutes, but in a mood like this, that's a lost cause. So instead I just turn on some music, lay back on the bed, and stew. I shouldn't really be this irritated -- I know that, somewhere in the back of my mind. He's got a few days here, after all. And beyond that, I'm planning on heading back down with him for the break. There's more than enough time to spare. It's just...fuck, I hate that I'm getting shoved aside for her. I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He's a guy, which means priority number one is getting laid. Ahead of eating, ahead of sleeping, and certainly ahead of something stupid like family. I'm just not used to thinking of David like that, as just another horny would-be lecher. In my memories he's quiet. Sweet. Thoughtful. People can't stay the same forever, of course, but I hate the thought of the brother I know and love getting stolen away and replaced by a frat boy. And on the other hand, it certainly doesn't help that I've been single going on six months now, while it feels like April brings home a different guy every other night. I mean, I could do the same thing, if I wanted. If I could act the way she does, without feeling like a total slut. I'm not ugly or anything, even if I don't have quite the body she has. But the whole careless, zero-attachment sex thing doesn't really appeal to me, not anymore. I tried it at one time, in the first wild year of college, of freedom - went home with guys at parties or at clubs, once or twice without even knowing their name. But even when my body found satisfaction, there was a creeping wrongness in the mornings I'd wake up alone or with a stranger in my bed, an emptiness that eventually drove me away from that lifestyle. I need it to mean something, need someone I can talk to, spend time with. So the only bedtime companion I've had in months is the sound of April getting loudly fucked in the room next door. In fact...past the low melody of the stereo, I can hear a soft, rhythmic squeaking, entirely too familiar. My lips twist in revulsion, and I let out a disgusted little sigh. I don't know if I'm more disappointed in David or angry with April, but the last thing I want right now is to have to listen to the two of them making time together. I turn up the music, hold a pillow to my ear, and try to sleep. Maybe tomorrow will be better. It almost has to be. --- Luckily for me, I've always had a talent for falling asleep in unpleasant surroundings. I get a good rest and wake up early the next morning, feeling marginally better about the situation. Still not happy, but it's just...whatever. It's his life, his choice. What do I care? Ha. Self-deception. Of course I care -- he's my baby brother. But it's not like I can really do anything, other than tease him about his choice of bedmates. For now...well, we've got some leftover batter. I'll make pancakes. A bit of cooking should help to soothe my spirit. April, to my faint surprise, is the next one up; I'm halfway through frying up a stack when she glides into the kitchen in a fake silk bathrobe, looking like the cat that ate the canary. Takes up position leaning slightly against the wall, a triumphant smirk burning on her lips. I just roll my eyes a little, and take a distant satisfaction in ignoring her. She always wants to spread the news when she's had a good night. Finally, she elects to speak first, cramming more smug than I would have thought possible into a single word. "So." "So?" I affect idleness, turning over a pancake. "Aren't you curious?" I swear, I can practically hear her eyebrow raise. It's kind of fun, playing dumb. "Curious about what?" "About how your dear brother stacks up, of course." Casually grabbing one of the finished pancakes from the plate, she rips off a sliver and pops it into her mouth. "I'd figure you'd be dying to know." "Oh. That." I reply flatly. "Not especially, but I'm sure you'll tell me anyway." "Probably right." A wolfish grin spreads on her lips. "He's..." And she waits out a long pause, stretching the moment out for cheap effect. "...not bad. Not bad at all, in fact. Probably in the top quarter of all the guys I've been with." I snort, a bit derisively. "Like you can even remember them all." "Hey, no shame in doing what you love," she laughs. "Mind you, his technique and his enthusiasm could both do with some improvement. I had to take charge, ride him pretty hard." A feral grin, snickering at her own joke. "But he's got great stamina, and this cute, infectious energy. Like a puppy. Plus, it doesn't hurt that he's got a prick like a billy club." "Wow, that's..." I groan in disgust. "I really wanted to know the size of my brother's dick. Thanks for that." I flip the next pancake onto the plate; about done, only enough batter left for another one or two. "Come on." There's an amused and self-indulgent undertone to her words. "You must have seen it before." "Not since we were little kids, trust me." "Really?" Her eyebrows waggle about teasingly. "Growing up on a farm, in a small town...I'm sure you did some experimentation." It's a moment before I realize just what she's implying. "Oh, fuck you, April." I whirl to face her more directly, my lips curling in revulsion. "Just because I lived on a farm, I must have been fucking my brother, is that it?" A little shake of the head, as much scornful as angry. "I'd be insulted if you weren't such an idiot." She seems genuinely taken aback at my reaction. "Hey, no...it's not the farm thing, not really. Not just that, anyway." A bit of a curious look in her eye. "I mean, I know if I'd had a guy my age around the house when I was growing up, I'd have done just about everything with him." "No, you wouldn't have." Ridiculous. Maybe only children need to have these things explained to them. "Siblings don't do that, there's no attraction there. You've heard the expression, loving someone 'like a brother,' right? It doesn't mean you're about to spread for him." "I've heard it," she answers vaguely. Briefly pauses. "So you've really never...?" "Of course not." My mouth quirks up, bemusement supplanting anger. "Does that really surprise you?" "Well...yeah, kinda." A quick shrug. "I mean, after he..." She doesn't finish the sentence, and I raise a questioning eyebrow. "After he what?" Squinting thoughtfully at me, she's quiet for a time. "I'm not really sure if I should say anything." I just roll my eyes. "What, now all of a sudden you've discovered restraint? Spill it." She doesn't take much prodding. "Last night, when we were going at it." Her brown eyes glance into mine, briefly hesitant. "He called me 'Sam.'" For a few moments I'm speechless. Then I remember who I'm talking to. "Bullshit." "Hey, you asked." A bit of aggravation creeping into her voice. "Why would I make up something like that?" "To create some drama?" I retort. "Because you have nothing better to do with your time?" "Look," her tone rises as I finally strike a nerve, "I know you think I'm wild, but I'm not a liar. I don't just make shit up. He said it." I say nothing, reluctantly granting the truth of this. April's a lot of things, but I've never known her to be deceptive. Quite the opposite, really; she's too often obnoxious, saying things that would be better kept quiet, even if true. "I mean, it wasn't like he was doing it all night," she finally adds. "It was just once, when he was, you know, hitting his peak. I don't think he even realized it." A quick snort. "Someone else might have kicked him out of bed. He's lucky I'm so forgiving." A beat passes. "Plus, I'm kind of into that." I don't even want to ask. "Look," I try to come up with an alternate explanation, "Maybe you just misheard him." "I don't think so," she shakes her head decisively. "There's not many things a guy says in that situation that sound like 'Sam.' Trust me, I've heard most of them." "I'll bet," I mutter. Another pause for thought, for another excuse. There has to be one, this is just too... "Wait, of course." I have it. "He was just high. His first time smoking out, he's in a strange place, he's confused..." April regards me skeptically. "Yeah, I don't know. I've gotten high a lot, and I've never accidentally called out my sister's name during sex." "You don't have a sister." "Point remains," she shrugs. "I mean, what exactly are you saying? That he got the two of us confused? That he just happened to be thinking about you while he was fucking me? Is that what you wanna go with?" I quail, and a grimace crosses my face. I can speak only weakly. "Well, what else..." Not even finishing the sentence. I know what else it could be, but I don't want to say it, don't want to entertain the thought. "I thought I had it figured out before." As always, April is unbearably candid. "But if the two of you don't already have a thing going on, then maybe he just wants to." "That's ridiculous," I snap at her. "He's my brother." She laughs once at my intensity. "Well, I could ask him. That might clear things up pretty quick." "Don't you fucking dare," I fairly growl. "I swear to god, April, just-" In the hallway, I hear the catch of a bedroom door opening and fall instantly quiet, glaring April into doing the same. David wanders out a few moments later, yesterday's clothes rumpled and half-buttoned, with a faintly pink tinge to his cheeks. Not looking directly at either of us, his eyes fixed to the feet of the dining room chairs as though they're about to put on a play. No one talks -- but as the seconds tick past, I can hear April start to softly giggle, barely suppressed. God, I feel like smacking her. How can she think this is funny? "Uh, morning." David finally speaks, awkwardly, turning his eyes up to mine with a sliver of a smile. "Guess I kind of overslept a little. I'm gonna blame it on the drive, I think." His gaze flickers to April, back to me. I still can't think, don't know what to say. I'm just staring at him, like I'm trying to figure out if he's really my brother or an alien wearing his skin. April can't be right. There's no way. He coughs once, uncomfortably, trying to break the silence. "So, uh, what do we do for breakfast?" "Breakfast!" I blurt it out a bit crazily, my voice unnaturally high. I can do breakfast. "Yeah, that's...I made pancakes." I turn back to the stove, where the last one is beginning to burn on the bottom. "I thought they'd be good, you know...pancakes." Christ, I sound like an idiot. "Great," he enthuses softly, his nose crinkling up as he grins. Slides up to the counter. "Mom'd kill me for saying it, but I really miss when you used to cook. Always tasted better for some reason." Behind him, April makes kissy faces at me, and I almost throw the spatula at her. "For god's sake, Ape, get out of here. Don't you have class?" "Not according to you." She smirks, obviously proud of herself. I groan, teeth bared in exasperation. "Go. Away." "All right, all right," she laughs. "I'll let you two get some 'alone time.'" Her casually suggestive tone is only more infuriating. Thankfully, she's actually leaving now -- I stare daggers into her back before getting a plate ready for David. "What's that all about?" he asks quietly, faintly hesitant. "Nothing." I give him a smile that feels pasted on, nerves tingling uneasily beneath my skin. "She's just -- hard to deal with, sometimes." Putting his plate before him, I slide into the chair two away from his, uncomfortable now with too much closeness. Fuck, I hope April was just messing with me. "Yeah," he mutters quietly, his smile briefly flickering. "I think I could see that." And for a while we eat in silence, my thoughts going round in circles. He's acting totally normal. Well, pretty normal. About as normal as I would expect for just having slept with my roommate the night before. It's just me acting weird. So maybe she misheard him after all. I mean, I'd know if my brother had the hots for me, right? Ugh. I shiver at the thought and glance over at him as he fairly inhales his plate, his breakfast drenched in syrup. He's always been a big eater, and now he has the bulk to justify it. Meanwhile, I'm barely picking at my food; by the time he's finished his second plate I've hardly even gotten through half of my first, and I eventually just push it aside. The quiet seems inappropriate now. Awkward. Damn it. I stand up again, stalling for time while I think of what to say. He follows, and beats me to my destination. "Thanks for cooking, Sam." I laugh uneasily. "No problem. I need the practice, anyway. Been getting fast food and stuff too much lately." He nods sagely, glances away. Swallows once. "Uh, I kinda wanted to-" As he speaks, his hand grasps at mine...but his mouth shuts again when I instinctively flinch away. Immediately I wish I hadn't, seeing the note of hurt in his eye. He's my brother. It's okay if he takes my hand. He shrugs it off after a moment, starting again. "I kinda wanted to apologize, for yesterday." "Apologize for what?" My throat feels tight, uncomfortable. "Well, I..." His hand comes up, fingers running awkwardly through his hair, down the back of his neck. "With your roommate. I was coming here for you, not for her. Then she shows up with that bong of hers, and everything happened so fast, and I guess I kinda just got sucked in." His pupils dart up briefly to the corners of his eyes. "So to speak." "Don't worry about it," I mutter vaguely. "You're a guy. I understand how it is." His eyes narrow, and a faintly disappointed frown traces across his lips. "Hey, come on. Don't give me that. I feel like a jerk, and I shouldn't have done it." A quick shake of the head. "I don't even really know why I did. I wish I hadn't. I was just trying to act all cool and mature, you know? But she went way further than I expected, and I didn't know how to back out, and with the marijuana and all, I was feeling..." He sighs unhappily. "Just excuses, I guess. I'm trying to say, I understand why you're mad at me, and I'm sorry. Coming to see you is really important to me, and I feel like I've already screwed it up." And he looks slightly away from me, his mouth set in the shape of regret. For all the awkward uncertainty of this morning, I feel a warm gladness blossoming in my heart as half a smile takes hold of my lips. Here's the brother I remember -- gentle, thoughtful. And worrying that I'm mad at him. Damn it, why am I listening to anything April says? Even if she's not outright lying, she's probably wrong, or misinterpreting something, or...who knows. It doesn't matter. David matters. "I'm not mad at you, Davey. I'm mad at her." Doubly so, now, if she'd pressured him into something he didn't really want. I push in for a quick, reassuring hug. Unable to avoid a touch of tension, a heightened awareness of his arms around me, but...everything's fine. It's just a hug, the same as we've always had. Pulling back, I manage a relieved grin. "And getting to see you is really important to me, too. What did we have planned for today, anyway? You were going to come with me to my classes, right?" He nods, looking not a little relieved himself. "I think so, yeah. Don't really know that I'm gonna get anything out of them, but..." I laugh softly at that. Humble to a fault, this guy. "You're not stupid, Davey, and it's not going to be rocket science. Mostly a bunch of old guys talking about ecology and politics. Half my classmates are idiots." "Oh, good," he utters mildly, "Then I'll fit right in." I roll my eyes with amusement and grab for his hand, determined to make up for my earlier retreat. "Yeah, that's just what I was getting at. Come on, let's head out. There's a couple places you should see, to get a feel for the place." --- My first class isn't actually for over an hour, so for a while I lead him wandering around the campus, pointing out all the interesting and not-so-interesting sights. The central mall, the library, the quad -- I mean, the university's not that fancy a place, but it gets the job done, I figure. There was about half an inch of snow last night, and it crunches softly underfoot as we wind our way about campus, talking about old times, David filling me in on all the new gossip of the town. I guess Mr. and Mrs. Peabody finally got divorced; they've been fighting for years, but they've been together so long I always figured they'd stay that way just out of habit. Crazy. Classes go by surprisingly quickly with him beside me, too. Like I expected, he follows the material without much difficulty, and actually seems more than halfway interested. I'm glad to see it. It's a silly idea, maybe, but still, I can almost imagine both of us going into forestry together. A brother-sister ranger team. I laugh a little at the thought. So does he, when I share it. It feels good to laugh together; we've been too far apart, for too long. It's weird to think how long it's been since I left home, really. It doesn't feel like three years; feels like maybe only a month ago, like no real time at all has passed. I tried to visit pretty regularly, once or twice a year, when there was a long enough break to make the trip up worth it. We'd spend time together then, talk, update each other on our lives. But somehow deep inside, it's like I never really believed anything could happen at home while I was away. How could he grow up without me? But he's definitely grown. He was fifteen when I left, still a bit gawky, puberty still in the process of stretching him out. And that's how I've remembered him in these intervening years, my mind never quite accepting the new David I occasionally see. Every time I visited, I'd comment on how big he was getting, and then just keep thinking of him as the gangly little brother. The cognitive dissonance is getting too strong to stand. It's a man's body he wears now, tall and developed. Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, I can see his pecs bulging proudly at his chest, and almost count his abs through his shirt. It's...impressive. I mean, a nice bod isn't everything, but it isn't nothing, either. If he weren't my brother, I might be kind of interested. Damn it. I look back at the whiteboard, a faint warmth touched upon my cheeks. Fucking April -- she's gotten this crazy thought in my head. I swear to god, the girl perverts everything she touches. I used to be impressed by her wild indifference towards all propriety, but lately I've just been annoyed by it. As if her practically bringing guys in off the street wasn't bad enough, now she's making things awkward between David and me. Pointless to think about. I just need to forget about her and her stupid ideas. Enjoy this time with my brother. I want him to find enough of value here that he'll decide to attend. I mean, it'll only be another year before I graduate, assuming everything goes right, but that's a year more than we'd have if he stayed down in Oakley. I've missed him. It's not just politeness, or family obligation. We've always been close -- best friends, maybe even stronger than that. I know sometimes kids don't like having their younger siblings around, as if it cramps their style, but we were never like that. David was my shadow, and when someone made fun of me for it, or of him, I just told them off. We confided in each other, talked about things you couldn't say to anyone else. I think that's what I've missed the most. That trust -- I haven't had it, since I've been away. Friends are friends, but it's not the same thing. And boyfriends...well, I haven't had anything near that kind of trust with them. Hell, that's why I know April can't be right. If David really felt something like that, he'd tell me. Wouldn't he? Little Things Ch. 01 of 04 I glance in his direction again. This time he catches it, looks at me with that goofy grin on his face. I can't help a little laugh, lips curling up brightly. But still that tiny, nervous uncertainty, hiding deep in my heart. I wish I knew for sure. If it weren't for the time we've spent apart, I'd probably just ask him, flat out. But it's been too many months, too many years -- I don't have the stomach for that. With a shake of the head, I turn back to the professor, right now droning on about logging regulations in Chile. Get through the class, get through the day. Try not to worry so much. I manage at least part of that. After a quick and largely mediocre lunch at the mess hall, we polish off the rest of the day's classes, and I give David a guided tour of the campus' football field, based on what little I know about it. He's suitably impressed. It's pretty far from state-of-the-art, but I guess it's a fair sight better than the one back home. Getting late now, and we're heading back to my apartment when I realize there's one more thing he might like to see. Besides, it's on the way, more or less. After a bit of a jaunt through the winding halls of the engineering building, I lead him up a particular back staircase, speaking a silent prayer to the patron saint of poor maintenance. We're in luck -- the lock's still broken. I push open the heavy metal door and step out onto the roof, David following close behind. It's covered in a thin layer of gravel, still slightly damp here and there from last night's snowfall, and the wind these four stories up is strong and freezing. But it makes for a marvelous view of the campus, and of some of the landscape beyond. Grey clouds fill the darkening sky, and small figures wander the concrete walks, small groups and couples hand in hand, a few loners treading in the solitary chill. "Here we are," I announce unnecessarily. "Wow," David whistles softly, looking out over the area. "Nice view. Cold, but nice." "It is," I nod, and then caution him as he draws up to the slight ridge before the building's edge. "Careful, there." "Come on," he smiles, "I'm not that clumsy." "What, you think I'm worried about you?" I laugh teasingly. "I just don't want anyone to see you. Technically, we're not allowed to be up here." But I step up beside him anyway, a faintly excited tension in the pit of my stomach as animal instincts take note of the distance to the ground. "I come up here sometimes to think, or just to get away from everyone. My ex-boyfriend showed it to me, like a year and a half ago." "Ex?" His eyebrow slightly raised. "Yeah," I smirk with self-consciousness, and deflect the question. "It means 'former.' 'Previous.'" "Of course!" He laughs briefly. "I've always wondered." Softer. "What happened?" "With that one?" I hesitate a moment, then shrug. No harm telling, not really. "He cheated on me. Some girl at a party. I actually kind of owe April there; I wouldn't have found out, if she hadn't convinced me at the last minute to go." David winces, his expression falling into sympathetic sorrow. "That's terrible." I just shrug again. I'm past it; he didn't mean much anyway. And what more could I really expect? "It happens." His lips twitch half up, sourly. "Well, it shouldn't." I snort quietly, more dismissive than amused. "Lots of things happen that shouldn't. I'm not special." "Yeah, you are." Sudden force in his voice, intensity in his eyes as he turns to look at me. "You don't deserve to have someone treat you like that." For a brief few seconds his gaze holds me prisoner -- then a flush descends on his cheeks and he glances away, freeing me to look out across the campus. Oh my god. My insides twist into knots, aching and uncertain. Is he...? Does that mean...? I just don't know. I can't be sure. I mean, it could be innocent, just brotherly regard. It could be. But the look in his eyes -- I don't know that I've ever seen that before from him. So serious, so emphatic. Searing from his very soul. Would he really care that much, if it were just concern for his sister? I don't dare to say anything. He's quiet, too. So for a few minutes, we just stand there silent on the roof, looking out across the twilight-darkened landscape. Pools of light dot the ground beneath streetlamps, little islands in a shadowy sea. And just when I feel as though the quiet has gone on too long to bear, as though I must say something, a gentle drift of snow begins to fall. A sigh sounds beside me, softly tranquil. I risk a glance -- David's staring up into the sky, watching the legion of snowflakes in their slow, meandering descent. He's first to speak. "Beautiful, isn't it?" His voice sounds...normal. Calm. Am I just being crazy? I nod, trying to swallow my tension. "Yeah. It's...never quite get used to this." "Certainly don't." His eyes drop down to me again, and there's a satisfied little smile on his face, one which I struggle to return. "Maybe we should head back. I reckon it's going to get a lot colder pretty quick." Yeah. Probably. I force my legs to move and pull open the heavy door again, descending into the long, concrete stairwell. Thumping rapidly down the steps, trying to get away -- not from David, not really, but from this scene, from this moment. I don't want this kind of complication. I just want everything to be simple, easy. To have my brother be- "Fuck!" I curse instinctively, almost tumbling to the ground as pain suddenly explodes in my foot, shoots up my leg. I landed wrong - taking the stairs down two at a time has come back to bite me. "Shit, that's...aaah, god dammit." I'm hopping around, trying to grab for the railing while my body screams at me. "What's wrong?" David speaks somewhere above me, still trying to catch up. "I broke my damn foot, that's what's wrong." A grimace twists my face, and red-hot pain pulses angrily at me as I gingerly try to set foot on the ground again. Perfect. Just perfect. "Really?" There's a touch of amused schadenfreude in his voice, mixed with a more charitable concern, as he appears at the landing above mine. "Sit down, let me take a look. How the heck did you manage that, anyway?" "Laugh it up," I mutter darkly -- but I sit on the stairs, resting my injured foot atop my knee. David slips past me and crouches down to help remove my sneaker, an agonized twinge shooting through my nerves as he tugs gently at the heel. "Careful. Christ." He just shakes his head and snickers slightly, pulling my shoe the rest of the way off, and then peeling down the thick cotton sock. The ankle is an angry red, visibly flashing with my heartbeat. "Looks like a pretty nasty wrench." He reaches out, and I wince as his fingertips lightly rub at the joint -- but it doesn't hurt, not really. Actually, it feels a little better. "I don't think it's anything worse, though." "Yeah, well. Easy for you to say," I grumble. There's a certain comfort in complaining. David gives me a knowing smirk, but doesn't call me on it. Instead, bringing up his other hand, he starts to gently massage at my foot. Slowly sweeping his thumbs with a soft pressure along the upper surface, his fingertips stroke outwards upon the bottom arch, ever-so-faintly tickling at my sole. The foot itself cupped in his hands, squeezed tenderly in his grasp. It's nice -- soothing, the hurt retreating before his advancing fingers. I settle back a bit to let him work. As his thumbs reach up past the ankle itself, his hands slip forward, palms catching on either side. With a carefully restrained force, he presses inward, rolling the aching joint in his slowly rotating hands. I manage a little sigh as the pain turns gradually into a soft tingle. God, this is nice -- I could go for this even if I hadn't sprained my ankle first. His fingers slip aimlessly at the back of my heel, tiny caresses at my Achilles tendon; his touch is warm on my skin, fairly glowing. Glancing down, I can see on his face an expression of raptly satisfied concentration. Oh, hell. My heartbeat abruptly jumps up three notches. The sudden injury had kicked me out of my train of thought - made me forget, temporarily, the day's background worry. Now it's called back to mind, as I realize just how intimate a moment this feels. I mean...fuck, I don't know. A foot massage. It could be innocent, sure. But right now, the look on his face...it doesn't really feel that way. I can't just keep going like this, wondering. I have to say something. "So, um." God, I hate the little quaver I hear in my voice. "April said something to me this morning." "Yeah?" His expression is more normal as he looks up at me. Small, bright smile, his eyes open and friendly. "What's that?" I have to swallow once before answering. "Ah, she said she thinks..." Damn it, damn it, damn it. Just say it. "She thinks you might be attracted to me." He's already in the middle of a 'listening' kind of nod -- for a moment he just keeps up the massage, not seeming to have quite processed what I said. Then, all at once, his hands jerk away from me, his eyes shooting wide. "What?!" Shock in his voice. Another short silence, struggling for words. "Why would -- she knows you're my sister, right?" "Oh, she knows," I utter, faintly rueful. "Then why the hell would she say something like that?" There's a touch of anger in his tone now, something I almost never hear from David. "Why would she think that?" "I don't know," I answer cautiously, and wonder why I'm lying. I know why she thinks that, I know her evidence. But...I'm not trying to force a confession out of him. Maybe I don't even want the truth, necessarily. I just want to ask him, to accept whatever answer he chooses to give me. "Can you think of a reason why?" He runs anxious fingers backwards through his scalp. Thinking, for a few moments. "No," he finally answers, in a tone of baffled frustration. "I have no idea. I didn't...I mean, what could even make her think that? I barely even talked to her." Silence, again. Then his eyes are worried on mine, his tone apprehensive. "You don't believe her, do you?" "I didn't really believe her, no," I answer quietly. He looks relieved -- mostly, anyway. There's a faint and distant flicker in his eye that I wouldn't dare to interpret. "But you know, I was thinking about it today. And if it were true...you could tell me. I wouldn't be grossed out, or angry at you or anything." It takes him a moment to respond. His voice quiet, his expression burgeoning with a disbelieving glimmer of hope. "You wouldn't?" Oh my god, it is true. There's no mistaking the meaning of his question -- I can feel my heart thumping nervously in my chest, fast and deep. I shake my head, and it's a struggle to keep my voice even slightly casual. "No. I mean, it'd be kind of flattering, you know?" My hands feel empty, awkward at my sides; I grip lightly at the step beneath me. "You've seen me at my worst. When I'm throwing up, when I'm bawling my eyes out, when I'm stuffing my face with fudge. If you were attracted to me after all that...it would be a pretty big compliment." "But you're my sister." His voice is like that of a ghost. Or of someone not quite sure if they're dreaming. "Yeah." I laugh, a bit nervously. "So obviously, we couldn't...do anything. A feeling like that couldn't go anywhere, really. But just having it -- there's nothing wrong with that." I force myself to look him seriously in the eye. This is important, this is what it's all about. "I don't want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me, David. We...it's really important to me that we can trust each other. With everything." And I give him a tiny, half-hearted smile. God, I can't believe my own brother has a crush on me. It's crazy. But what I said is true; I can't be mad at him. And despite what I would expect, I don't really feel creeped out, either. Not exactly. It's almost sweet, in a way. We have so much history. We've been so much to each other. So what if he feels a little infatuated? I mean, yeah, it's kinda weird. It'd make more sense at twelve than at eighteen. But he's still the same brother I know and love - I'm not going to freak out at him about it. Whatever he feels, I'm not going to let it ruin what we have. He looks up now, his cheeks burning red, his lips parting for confession. But they fall silently closed again as our eyes meet. There's no need to speak, not really. Our connection is sometimes deeper than words; I know the truth already, and he knows that I know. That's enough. Things aren't exactly all worked out, but at least now this is out in the open. It helps. A little. Anyway, my foot is feeling much better. I don again my shoe and sock, and we walk back to my apartment in silence, feeling the awkwardness of a revealed truth. The distraction of dinner is welcome. Marie's made vegetable lasagna, and she's as skilled a cook as she is a scholar; I eat more than my fill, glad to focus on something other than the situation with David. Not that I can really get it out of my mind. I can feel his eyes on me all through the meal; seems like every time I glance in his direction, I find him already looking at me. I mean, it's nothing lascivious, not like he's ogling me or anything, just...looking. I wouldn't think anything of it, normally. But things aren't normal, not anymore. Knowing what I know, his gaze makes me feel... Fucking hell, I think I'm blushing. I can't even say how I feel. It's like a trembling in my heart, a tingle in the back of my mind. Nerves. Yeah, at least in part. I'm still nervous. Should I act differently around him now? Is there something I should do, to help him grow out of it? Is that even what's going to happen? I mean, he's not a kid anymore. I'm too aware of that, looking at his strong cheekbones, his chiseled features. The only softness in that face is in his eyes, blue like a cloudless sky, and in the smile that barely touches upon his lips. It doesn't seem the look of a boy -- a man -- who's going to grow up, move on, forget. I don't know. For the remainder of the meal I stay quiet, gaze buried in my food. I'm sure David notices, but April and Marie don't seem to, chattering on as energetically as always. As we're finishing up, April stretches, and speaks with an easy satisfaction. "Not bad, Mare. Food like that, I can almost see how you could stand to go veg." "Mm." Marie smoothly acknowledges. "Honestly, April, you ought to give it a try. It isn't nearly so difficult as you seem to think. After the first month or two, you quite lose your taste for flesh." "So you say," April laughs. "But I know if I didn't get some meat in me every so often, I'd go crazy." A smirk curves her lips as she turns her attention to David. "Speaking of which...I haven't got any other plans tonight. You up for a repeat performance?" Catching him in the middle of scarfing down a chunk of pasta, the question sends David into a lengthy coughing fit. It's some moments before he regathers enough composure to attempt an answer, his cheeks burning pink. "That's, ah. Thanks, but I think I'm gonna pass. I'm not really, um...no." And I see him glance to me again, his eyes unspeakably embarrassed. April catches it as well, her brow lifting with amused curiosity. "No? Spending some 'quality time' with Samantha instead?" And her mouth splits in a Cheshire grin. "Oh, grow the fuck up, April," I suddenly snarl at her, my anxiety leaping readily into fury. God damn her. What is she even trying to do, except taunt him? Of course, she just smirks derisively, not even giving me the satisfaction of a good argument. Marie, meanwhile, raises a surprised eyebrow at my outburst, speaking with a tone politely shocked. "Did I miss something?" "Nothing worth hearing," I growl back, still glaring at April. I'm not done with her yet. "I'm serious. Leave him alone." "Sure." She rolls her eyes, and smiles with thin-lipped insincerity. "But you know, Sam, you'd probably be less tense if you let him have some fun with you." "There is something wrong with you." My hands ball into trembling fists as I hiss at her. How can she possibly act like this, think like this? I've never known anyone so god damned dissolute. It's maddening. "Look," Marie interjects softly, forced to play peacemaker yet again. "Perhaps it would be best if we all took a few moments aside to calm down. April, didn't you say that you wanted me to take a look at your economics paper? This seems as good a time as any." April's eyes are still on me as she snorts, quiet and contemptuous. But her lips twitch affirmatively. "Fine." And she affects a casual mien as Marie rapidly leads her down the hall and into her room. The room suddenly quiet, I exhale slowly, left to grapple with a discomforting emptiness as the anger drains out of me. My eye touches on David, his mouth held carefully shut. I have to say something, though I'm not really sure what. "I...I'm sorry about her," I intone quietly. "She's really a jerk." He demurs, his eyebrow rising faintly with surprise. "I'm okay." A beat passes. "She seems to get pretty badly under your skin, though." "You could say that." Half a smile struggles onto my face before falling away again. "We've been at each other's throats more and more over the last year. About the only reason we're still roommates is that neither one of us wants to go to the trouble of finding a new place." A little sigh tumbles out of me. "Suppose I shouldn't have blown up at her like that. She just..." I hesitate, not wanting to make too plain a mention of David's secret feelings. "I didn't want..." A shadow of a smile curves his lips -- wry, with a touch of the forlorn. "I understand." A thoughtful pause. "Kind of comforting to see that you still have the temper I remember, though." I manage to laugh at that, brief but genuine. "Yeah, well. I try to keep in practice. If you don't get angry about something at least once a week, you start to forget how." A little shake of the head. "Anyway. You want to help me wash the dishes? I don't want Marie to have to cook and clean." "Of course." He moves immediately to pick up the scattering of plates and utensils, and for a few minutes we settle into the comforting domesticity of doing the dishes. There aren't many; the three of us clean them daily, more or less. I wash, he dries. Just like when we were kids. And yet different. I'm so aware now of him standing beside me, of his body just a foot or so from mine. Even with my eyes fixed upon the drain, I can feel his presence, a tingling pressure upon my mind. It's an unaccustomed ache - a feeling almost like anticipation, without knowing what's going to happen. Our fingers briefly brush together as I hand him a plate, and I flinch, almost dropping it into the sink. Damn it, this whole situation has me stupidly on edge, acting like a nervous schoolgirl. April, again, putting crazy thoughts in my head. I move to separate from him when we finish, uncomfortable with the still-too-rapid patter of my heart. "I've got a paper I should really be working on." An excuse -- but its truth makes it a good one. "You going to be okay out here? We've got basic cable on the TV, and I put some blankets next to the sofa for you to use." "Sure, I'll be fine." I can hear an atom of disappointment, buried beneath his casual cheer. "That's it for tonight, then?" "Afraid so." I'm not lying to him, not really. I just need a little time to settle my head. "We can head out on the town tomorrow. Not much bigger than Oakley, honestly, but it's something." "Sounds like it should be fun." A tiny smile quirks his lips upward as he regards me. "Goodnight, Sam." "Goodnight, Davey." A trace of hesitation in my voice. I don't turn away, not immediately. His eyes hold me again, the way they did on the rooftop. A warm gaze of steely blue, so alike the one I see in the mirror every morning -- and yet possessed of a different soul. When I look at myself, those eyes seem so often to be twisted by fatigue, or by irritation, or by some nameless, existential unrest. On him, they fairly shine with gentleness, sparkling with an honest affection. I could lose myself in those eyes, if I wanted to. Maybe even if I didn't.