by Megan Derr
They both grinned at him that time, so infuriatingly cute and sexy he wanted to break their noses. He drank his rootbeer instead. "Poor baby," Brook said. "Tough life, being trained to take over the kingdom."
"Shut it, cottontail." Sidney finished his rootbeer. "If you're not going to make yourselves useful, I'm going to rot my brain playing video games." He was probably actually going to go to the pond; he never got to play in the water anymore.
Gathering up his trash, he stood and left. Once clear of the patio, he slumped. He'd been sure they'd call him back. That was the most they'd talked to him in years, literally. Brook had even flirted a couple of times. Clearly they'd just been putting up with him.
They were stressed and had more important things to worry about. He was being the asshole. Shake it off.
He threw his trash away in the kitchen, then darted upstairs and swapped out his work shirt for a brown tanktop, ditched his boots in favor of sandals, grabbed his sunglasses, and headed out the back door, across the south yard to the duck pond. Stripping off his clothes, because he could shift with them but it was easier to just take them off, he closed his eyes and focused on the shift, felt it unfurl from his center and rush over him.
He stretched his wings, shook himself, then waddled up to the pond and slid into the water. A few regular ducks were about, feeding around the edges of the pond, though a few were in the middle to seek out more ambitious snacks. They ignored him after ensuring he was not an interloper.
Sun, water, wind. Perfect. No work, no one to bug him. Better than perfect. Sidney settled in and just let himself drift, soak up the rare day off and pretend nothing was bothering him.
By the look of the sun, he'd been zoned out for about an hour when the ducks around him stirred in annoyance at a disruption. Sidney turned around and saw two chubby little cottontails running off with his clothes. For a moment, he was frozen. They wouldn't.
Then he lifted himself out of the water and into the air, chasing after them, the stupid jerks.
But he'd taken a beat too long, and they vanished into the woods where he had no hope of going after them. He could go in there and try to find them, but they were rabbits; they could hide in there all day, dragging his clothes across the ground and ruining them.
Why would they do something so fucking mean?
He almost shifted back to human and started yelling at them, but that would draw parental attention that he really didn't want. Grunting in annoyance, Sidney abandoned the trees and headed back to the house, alighting on the patio and then waddling through the house to his room, where he immediately shifted, slammed the door, and locked it. Stomping over to his dresser, he yanked out fresh clothes, pausing as he dressed to scrub angrily at his eyes.
He really hadn't expected Brook and Colby to do the same dumb shit that George's crew did. They were twenty-six for crying out loud. Why were they pulling high school pranks?
A knock at the door made him jump. "Fuck off, assholes!"
There was a beat of silence and then a voice replied wryly, "I'm just going to assume that wasn't meant for me and let it slide."
Sidney groaned and smashed his face into his hands. He stood up and pulled his t-shirt on, then sulked over to the door and opened it. "Sorry, Pop."
"No worries." Troy reached out and lightly ruffled his hair. "Why are you slamming doors and cussing at people? For that matter, why aren't you at work?"
"Dad gave me the day off, said I should spend it with Colby and Brook, but they can go fu—I'd rather go mow lawns."
Troy's brows rose. Sidney really hated parental knowing looks. "Well, there's plenty of lawn around here if you're jonesing. Why do you look like you'd rather run Brook and Colby over with the lawnmower?" When Sidney hesitated, he said, "Out with it, or I'll go ask them."
"They stole my clothes!" Sidney burst out, almost but not quite stamping his foot. "I was chilling in the pond, and they came up and ran off with my clothes." He scowled in absolute hatred when Troy's mouth twitched. "I'm going to run all of you over with the lawnmower."
"Your dad wouldn't be very amused to come home and find me dead." Troy grinned. "Then he'd have to do all the accounting, and that would get you extra-dead."
Sidney sighed.
"Come on, you're twenty, not fourteen. Stop slamming doors and sulking. I'm sure they thought they were being funny. Somehow, when all three of you are in the same room, you all regress to acting like children." His mouth curved into that parental smirky-smirk again. "I wonder why. Stop hiding. I can and will lock you out of this room."
Grumbling, Sidney stepped out of his room. He only gave a token protest when Troy lightly gripped his shoulder and dragged him down the hall to the main office at the back of the house. 'Office' kind of underestimated the place, which was more like 'office plus boardroom plus small library'. Like every other part of the house, it was built with the idea that lots of people would be using it with fair frequency. Troy had a smaller office for when the main one was in use, but he preferred the big room as often as he could get it. "Sit somewhere."
Heaving another sigh, Sidney flopped into one of the big chairs around the ginormous table where the monthly and biweekly flock meetings were held. He'd been attending them since he was fifteen, and near as he could tell, they did not get less boring the older he got. He was not looking forward to the day he had to lead one, which his fathers assured him was closer than he liked. "Are you going to make me help you?" he asked. "'Cause then I really would rather go mow the lawn."
"It's cute you think you won't have to do both."
"I'm twenty years old; you can't boss me around anymore?" Sidney tried.
Troy laughed but didn't bother to glance away from the window he was staring out—a window that looked out over the backyard, and the woods that hid to the artificial lake. Where the assholes had fled with his clothes. "Try again, doofus."
"It's not nice to call your only son a doofus."
"It's not nice to call your father a fucking asshole."
"Point," Sidney conceded. "In my defense, I thought you were someone else. Two someone elses."
Troy looked at him briefly, smirk-smirking away. "I gathered. They're slinking back to the house, so I think they know they're in the doghouse. Stay there or else. I mean it."
Knowing a legitimate threat when he heard one, Sidney stayed put. Except to go snitch a soda out of Troy's fridge beneath the bar. And some pretzels because Troy always hoarded the good ones.
Almost half an hour later, the door finally opened and two chastised looking cottontail jerks slunk in. "Hey, Sidney."
Sidney looked at them but did not say anything. He was an adult, he could act childish if he wanted to.
"We're sorry," Brook said, always the faster to speak. "We were trying to play, not be mean. We were going to give them back at the lake, swear it. We went straight there and waited for you."
Ugh, sincerity. "It's fine," Sidney said and shoved the remaining two pretzels in his mouth. He didn't have the energy to be mad at them all day.
"Come on," Colby said. "We're going out."
"Out." He waited, but they didn't say anything more, just started to smile. "Fine." He threw the trash out and followed them from the office. "Where'd Pop go?"
"Said he had to go talk to some people about numbers that weren't adding up," Brook replied. "That he probably wouldn't be back any time soon since he was gonna meet Uncle James for a late lunch." When Sidney drew close, he threw an arm around his shoulders and dragged him along out of the room. He let go again when they reached the stairs. "Hopefully they don't decide to eat at the same place we're going 'cause that would be awkward."
That didn't make any sense, but Sidney didn't ask what they meant, just shoved his feet into his flip flops and followed them out of the house, down the walk to the driveway where… "You guys got a new car." He hadn't thought they'd ever be able to part with their old one; Brook had called it 'baby' and everything.
Brook grinned at him the
way car people always did, like they had a new kid or puppy or something to show off. It was equal parts exasperating and adorable. Did he do that with anything? Not cars, for sure. His car was blue, and the heat was crappy. That was all he knew. "Yeah," Brook said. "Isn't it sweet?"
Sidney tried to make a suitably enthralled/impressed face as Brook babbled about it while they drove. From the sympathetic smirk Colby gave him in the rearview mirror, he wasn't fooling anyone. Sidney grinned briefly, then returned to staring out the window as they headed into town.
Half an hour later, they pulled into the enormous field that served as a parking lot for everyone wandering Main Street who did not work there and have private parking. Across the street was one of the most popular places in town: a 'shack' that sold all the summer food a person could dream up. There were four windows, and all of them had lines. Seating was a bunch of concrete tables and benches scattered about an enormous gravel lot, each table sporting an obnoxiously bright umbrella.
His cousins operated it, having taken over from their aunt, whose back was in too bad a shape to keep on her feet all day. That didn't stop her from showing up at random points to make certain they weren't 'messing around,' much to their displeasure. Sidney sympathized.
The shack was his absolute favorite place to eat, but Brook and Colby didn't like it as much. They didn't hate meat, per se, but they definitely had a strong preference for foods that were not meat. Sidney had figured they'd be going to the diner two blocks down, where they could eat their weight in salad and strawberry-rhubarb pie like usual while he had a cheeseburger. Not that he was complaining. Hell to the no.
"Man, this place never changes," Brook said, stopping on the edge of the gravel. "The world will end, but this place will last. Mm, I want french fries. Be back." He didn't want for their reply, just strode off across the crowded lot to the window with the shortest line.
Colby snorted softly, shared a smile with Sidney, and then gave him a minor heart attack by taking his hand as they walked off. Not a 'come on, let's get through this crowd' hold, but a fingers tangled together, walking close together type hand holding.
Colby finally stopped at a table all the way at the edge of the lot where the gravel ran into a grassy, dandelion-riddled field that at some point in the summer would be taken over by a traveling carnival. Colby slowly let go of his hand and then sat down. Sidney took the seat opposite him, partly because he was freaking out, but mostly because he was not gonna miss a chance to surreptitiously ogle Colby and Brook sitting next to each other.
"You two are acting funny."
"Funny how?" Colby asked.
Sidney eyed him, but sunglasses made Colby even harder to read than usual. "Brook flirted with me back at the house. Twice. You guys ran off with my clothes. You're taking me out to lunch, and you held my hand. I'm not stupid, I know when I'm being messed with."
Colby's mouth quirked. "I remember when you were too shy to string five words together without mumbling or tripping over them. Assuming you talked to us at all."
"Being worked to death in half a dozen permutations of customer service hell beats the tripping and mumbling out of you. Also, my dads are stubborn. Shyness is no excuse for blah, blah, blah, and blah. I've never actually heard the whole lecture. I zone out the minute it starts."
Colby laughed, for a moment seeming more like Brook than himself. "Sounds like Uncle Jamie, alright. He used to lecture me like that. One summer he got so fed up with my 'hermit tendencies' he got me this awful call center job. My mom sided with him like a vile betrayer, and for two years I dealt with that shit. But it paid off, I guess. I can only imagine how much worse it is being the precious only child and heir to the glorious empire."
Sidney made a face, pleased when that elicited another laugh. Before he could muster the courage to ask what they were up to again, Brook returned carrying two trays of food. "Corn dogs, tater tots, and fried pickles for the duckling. French fries and normal pickle for me, and deep fried vegetables and tater tots for you. Sodas and condiments all around. Somebody else is buying ice cream."
"Thanks," Sidney said and dove into the corn dogs, smothering them in mustard, making short work of all three before he dove into his pickles and tots.
He paused halfway through when he caught the twins watching him. Cheeks heating, he dropped the fried pickle he was holding and wiped his fingers on a napkin, then his mouth in case there was mustard or something everywhere. "What?"
Colby shook his head, but Brook said, "Your mouth."
"What." Sidney's face went from hot to volcano. "What's wrong with my mouth? Why are you being so weird?"
Brook grunted when Colby elbowed him but said, "Your mouth should be illegal."
"Go to hell." He didn't know what their stupid game was, but he was done playing it. He should have just gone to work, screw them. When had they turned into jerks? Why couldn't they just ignore his stupid crush instead of making fun of him for it?
Standing up, he wove and pushed through the crowd, then stormed off down the street, dead set on finding his dads and catching a ride home. Someone grabbed his wrist; Sidney snarled and jerked free, whipped around and glared. "Why are you doing this? I've never done anything. You don't have to make fun of me."
"We're not," Colby said, voice so calm that it soothed Sidney despite himself. "We're—your six years younger than us, Sidney."
Before Sidney could ask where that had come from, because yeah, he was frigging aware, Brook added, "Yeah, do you have any idea how it felt to realize the kid we grew up with was, in fact, growing up hot and looked pretty good at sixteen? We wanted to die. It didn't help we knew—well, you're not subtle. So we stayed away, tried to stop being creepy jerks, thought it would fade off. It definitely hadn't the last time we saw you, and it hasn't now. The only difference is that now you're twenty, definitely not a kid anymore even if you're still really young. And it's amazing what you're willing to try for when you come really close to being beaten to death and your body set on fire."
Jesus. He hadn't realized the attack on their house had been that bad. They looked scared to death just recalling it. He wanted to hug them.
Then the rest of what they'd said registered. "Wait. You—you can't mean—you're actually flirting with me?"
Colby huffed. "Yes, duck."
"You suck at it."
Brook grinned in a way Sidney had never seen, sharp and hungry and nothing held back. He moved into Sidney's space so abruptly that Sidney squeaked. "We're rabbits. We're not used to tip-toeing around things like this."
Sidney swallowed, acutely, painfully aware of Brook: the clean, soapy smell of him, lightly touched by sunshine and sweat. The soft gray-brown of his eyes framed by dark lashes, the barest hint of stubble to his face, all the stupid, distracting freckles. The way his t-shirt just barely clung to his chest. "I thought you two—well, that it was you two. Fullstop."
It was Colby who softly replied, "There was always room for one more, Sid. One long-reserved spot, even if we tried to deny it for years."
"Oh. Um." Sidney swallowed again, wishing he could get the fucking lump out of his throat. "This—this is not how I thought this would go. You haven't even liked me since I ratted out the goon squad after they beat you up."
They stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "We've always liked you," Brook said. "We were trying to keep you from getting hurt because you got mixed up in our drama."
Sidney wanted to smash something heavy across their heads. "You're so stupid." He lightly shoved Brook away—and squeaked again when Brook grabbed him and reeled him in, not quite certain how the tables had turned. He oofed as he collided with Brook's chest. "What's with the grabby?"
That time the squeak stuck in his throat as Brook leaned up and brushed the barest of kisses across his mouth. Sidney could feel it all the way down to his toes. He stared wide-eyed at Brook. "My dads are going to kill me." Troy's smirk abruptly came back to mind. "Oh, my fucking god they already know. I'm going to kill all of
you. Starting with you idiot rabbi—mmf—"
The second kiss was definitely not soft and involved a little bit of tongue. Possibly a lot bit of tongue. Oh, god, he was going to die. His dads would lecture him to death about appropriate times and places for PDAs until he died of mortification or boredom. Jerking back, he hissed, "Behave! Do you know how many phone calls my dads are getting right now? Emails? Texts? Your son is having sex with those rabbits on Main Street, I never. That's what everyone who can see us is telling my dads right this very second."
Brook laughed so hard he had to cling to Sidney for balance, burying his face against Sidney's chest. That was not helping matters. Sidney glared at Colby, who looked as though all he needed was popcorn. "Do something about this."
"Why?" Sidney glared harder, and Colby rolled his eyes but reached out and tugged his brother back. "I think it's time for ice cream." He slipped around Brook and took Sidney's hand as he had before, offering a hesitant smile just as fascinating as Brook's earlier grin.
"You guys move fast."
"Rabbits," they chorused, Brook moving to his other side as they headed down the street to the ice cream stand. It was about half the size of the food shack, but at least as busy.
Sidney rolled his eyes.
Unfortunately, the reminder that rabbits generally were neither shy nor hesitant reminded him that rabbits also were not much for long-term type relationships. The twins weren't even sure of their father's identity simply because it didn't matter to them. Rabbits tended to stay close to the parent who raised them, but the older they got, the more it became a friendship and less a parent-child relationship.
Ignore, ignore, ignore. Go along with it, see how it went. Something was better than nothing. Take the win and all that.
The ice cream parlor was, as predicted, plagued with long lines. Thankfully said lines did not seem to be full of people he knew, though he recognized a few faces here and there. Pointedly ignoring the mix of curious and disapproving looks he was getting, he focused instead on how dead he was going to be when he got home. Also on how much the threat of pending death was not making him let go of Colby's hand at all.
