Ranko hooted himself awake and yawned. Took a couple deep gulps of air. Whined almost imperceptibly.
"Dammit."
Eyes still closed, he sent his hand over to the nighttable for a cigarette. Fumbled...
His head popped up. So sleepy yet.
"Zlato," the tickler said happily.
His eyes opened. "No," he said automatically. Then a yawn overwhelmed him. "Uh... Get me a smoke?"
"As many as you want," it promised. "And then some."
"Mmm-mph."
He drifted back to sleep.
Five minutes later it took hold of his lower ribs.
He didn't even tense up.
A few seconds after the hands let go, he started twitching.
"Noooooo-oooo-ooooooh," Ranko burbled. There he goes, Vush thought. Another consuming dream was underway.
Better yet, the drug had fully kicked in now.
Vush got him into his truck.
Took him away.
So began another week of pure satisfaction, for Vush, like so many others that had come before.
The playroom was complete now that he was locked in it, snoring softly.
Every time it let him settle down for awhile, it was purely satisfying - and so exciting! - to get him strapped down again.
His head hung back off the end of the thick, soft neck support. They just didn't get more relaxed than big Ko with a half-milligram of Estazolam snuck into his lager. Four or five hours later he was like a new man, filled with vitality and energy that was always used against him, with spectacular results.
The tickler had his wrist-cuffs bolted to the arm-rests, straight up from his shoulders. His armpits were bordering his face. It really got to him when Vush's tools or fingers resumed covering his pits, and they were right there, centimeters away - when nothing he did could hinder them. Even his chin was just too far out of reach to interfere.
The hours devoted to Ko's armpits were addictive. Vush just never, ever got enough.
One heavy leather strap held his high abs down. Three straps anchored each leg. Tickling around these restraints was just as agonizing for Ranko as if they weren't there - and later they'd be removed, but the hysterical fight he gave them during the first hour or two was a joy to behold. As the hours wore on he lost the ability to move at all, whether he wanted to or not. Then it would break out the toe-restraints...
The tickling always continued until Ko just couldn't be roused for another session.
Smoking-hot arousal - of tickle-targets as well as his meat - absolutely filled his playroom-days.
By the time he woke up again, Vush was almost unbearably proud and grateful to tear into him once more.
As profoundly satisfying as each day was, somehow the months just flew by.
Fourteen years of running him around. And counting.
A feather teased his throat.
Ranko was finally pulled out of a dream - hardcore tickling - to see the cowhide pinning his legs.
When he saw the leather codpiece, his sigh of irritation was almost a scowl.
Half-closed eyes traveled from one strap to another.
The residual chuckles finally died down.
One big, wistful sigh...
"Ko," it greeted him, sticking a cigarette between his lips.
"Dammit." He sucked in, closed his eyes and took a much longer drag. Ranko was trying to prepare himself for what was coming. It never seemed to help, but he always took that moment - separating nightmare from reality.
Vush let him tug on the cigarette a few times. It was barely keeping its excitement in check. Time to get busy tickling. Always.
He stared at the ceiling. American cigarettes, fancy toys that slid and whirled, depressingly heavy restraints. Games and torments that no sane person would believe.
Ko had learned, before he was 20, that there were no magic words that would make Vush stop.
After the next drag, it took his cigarette away.
A water bottle came. He drank quickly, eyes becoming more alert. Watching to see where the attack would start -
So his tormentor brought eight feathers into view.
They paused in the air over his ribs and abs.
Huge, eager gloves came to his pits. Oiled black rubber.
"Vush," he said, pleading. He always said that - and only that, with the same pleading tone - right as each hysterical day started.
Its excitement just ignited then. So much meaning in that one sad word.
Don't work me over today. This is the most unbearable thing I know - getting tickled by you, with all that you've learned about my body. I need you to cut me a break, here, and you never do. Each second of tickling makes me lose my mind. You know this, and still...
Strong, empty fingers started to knead.
And he roared hopelessly, wrestling all around.
Snapping good and hard, he bawled laughter. Ko's head rolled this way and that as he barked. He was out of control, rocking and flopping. Even though the restraints kept him down tight, he just couldn't stop showing Vush how desperately he wanted to get away.
Feather-tips kept tracing hypersensitive muscles. Soft edges brushed slowly up to his pits, and down to his hips. No matter how much he tried to pull the straps free, the gloves and feathers kept right on tickling.
"Feel it - harder," Vush growled in his ear. "Brute. More, always more..."
The hard laughter was already sounding loopy.
Fingers scritched and squeezed.
Tears ran down his face.
Ranko flailed and bawled like a head case, utterly desperate to get up. There was no amount of laughter that would make such crippling levels of sensation any more bearable.
This session was just beginning. He was suffering exactly the way Vush wanted.
Minutes ticked by.
Here it comes, Vush thought eagerly.
Ko shook his head very deliberately, braying with gusto.
All of his limbs pulled and strained together at the straps - and he sagged suddenly.
The tickler had special props for the shift into harder concentration that he always made, and it moved 'em quickly.
Ranko's eyes were wide open, and he blinked a few times. Any traces of mirth in his forced leer were gone. He'd realized, yet again, that he was actually, postively staying right where Vush anchored him. Wide-open and vulnerable.
It brought a special pair of gloves in front of his face.
There were tattoo-style flames starting from the base of the fingers, rolling and growing until they covered the whole base, disappearing off the edge of the empty opening where human wrists should've been visible.
His grin came right back. Shining eyes. Growled laughter...
The tickler tattooed full-size images of these babies around his ankles a decade ago, with thick black outlines to suggest they're separate - on top of his skin, and unmistakably empty.
Vush waggled an index finger at him. Bad boy. Oh no you don't.
He seized a huge breath, threw his head back and just yelled hard laughter. The rest of his body heaved with the effort of making so much noise, and it was too preoccupied now to fidget with the restraints.
His wild, angry grin wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't getting away from Vush -
and now that truth had really hit home again.
Four hours later, he finished a nap and ate the stew Vush spooned into his mouth. It had him start a lager - the brand he liked best - and then made a joint cruise on up.
"It's like teasing a thunderstorm," the tickler said. "Tether it, and poke at it. Listen to it howl."
He was busy, holding in the smoke. That comparison had quit being flattering years ago.
"There," it said after three more tokes, taking the roach away.
A good four seconds passed. "There, what?"
"Yeah. Ranko's just where I want him now."
A slow smirk came over his face. "Scum. You let me go. Now."
"When you're leering like this? I don't think so. You're gonna get it."
"I know," he sighed, watching a cigarette come to him.
"That big bear of a kid is all grown up. And I've got him."
He was fighting not to grin.
This mood has always fascinated Vush. Not that many guys slip into this particular groove. Forced amusement. He'd still run for the door if there was any chance at all of getting away...
But no, Vush had locked him down again, and it was obviously not done with him yet.
"Now he's a man," it taunted, "even if he laughs like a rabid wolf."
"You are horrible," he said.
"Tell me the name of the man who needs the most intense tickling."
He shifted around, taking a slow drag. Conflicted. So whacked-out now...
"Zlato, you'd better answer me. The strong man who's the most damn fun to tickle. Number one. Let me hear it."
"Ranko."
"Damn right!"
"Nightmares all the time," he said... but it didn't sound like a complaint at all.
"And then I grab you again. Fun times. Long days on these massive feet."
He started to snicker. It was involuntary, but Ko still sounded like one very cool customer.
"Hot times."
"I wanna go home."
"Now? Well, Ko, I'm not even sure you could walk if you wanted to. Just look at that thing."
He glanced at his favorite body part, and squirmed... much like a housecat stretching in the sun. "Please shut up. I don't - aw, hell, there's no point in saying anything. You're not going to stop."
"Good boy."
He chuckled, sounding unwilling to do it - and unable to stop...
Telltale sounds of latex got him looking around wearily, squinting through the smoke. Oh hell, oh shit, here they come again. The tickling party, more solid and prolonged than anything he ever considered possible, was still on. Grueling, hair-curling excitement, everywhere.
A glove cruised into view. Plain surgeon's glove, coated with oil.
Three more gloves meet up with it. And another pair...
Eight animated hands in all, ready to dig in, fingers slightly curled.
He could squirm and whine all he wanted, but the full-bore kneading was about to start up again. That's why it had been necessary to bind him so thoroughly.
Hide him away. Another extended, ticklish, merciless massage, coming right up.
He got in another drag - last chance to smoke for awhile - and the fear made him lightheaded. Vush had seen it so many times before. Magic gloves were oiled up, and he was going to get nuked. Again.
The tickler was jazzed, defiant, insatiable. Pure triumph. It had just the right guy to tickle thoroughly, and it knew exactly how to read him when he was in danger of passing out.
"Oh no, no, nooooo," he sighed at the gloves, as they took hold of well-known sensitive spots...
Oiled fingers raced up and down his soles, pressing down more and more firmly.
Ranko threw his head around. Urgent laughter bubbled up from deep in his gut. His legs were trying desperately to lift off the bench, but the cuffs were snug around his ankles just like always. He was capable of impressive bursts of power, and Vush had enjoyed finding sure-fire ways to keep him staked out.
More hands were really sticking it to his belly and shoulders.
Hooting, whooping, he couldn't flail hard enough to change his predicament. With his toes trapped in their own little cuffs, each sole was riotously ticklish. He just couldn't stand the arousing fire, and there was no getting away from Vush's methodical fingers.
He started to cough -
Every glove froze...
Until he was done hacking, and gave Vush a miserable little groan.
Then they got back to the tickling again.
"You remember the Ranko-grins?"
"Aw, hell," he groaned, leaking smoke.
Another meal was down him, and half a bottle of lager. By the fifth or sixth day he never even glanced at the door anymore, and yet his reactivity could be goosed up higher and higher...
"That doesn't sound like the right answer," Vush chuckled. "Maybe I need to reinforce the lessons again. We'll see -"
"Now just wait a minute. You haven't ordered me to say this shit in years... Blown-away grin," he said quickly, trying to remember the others.
"Slow down. I wanna hear 'em in order. Which one's first?"
He took a drag. "Anger. No! No, it's not that... The pain. Pain-grin."
"Good man. Yup. Stop, stop, I can't take this, pleeeeze, it's too much, you gotta stop, Vush, you're killin' meee-eee." It laughed.
"I hate you," Ko sighed. "Really."
"What's the next grin?"
"I don't care -"
"You're in that mood now."
He closed his eyes. "Rage."
"Alright! The rage-grin. I hate Vush, it doesn't listen, so unfair. Aaaaaw. I demand that you stop it and let me go. You bastard. You sadist. I wanna kick your ass so bad, if you had one..."
"Uh-huh," Ranko finally said.
"And the third grin?"
"You know I can't get this word right." It didn't reply. Waiting... "Blown away."
"Overwhelmed is the word. Ranko's overwhelmed-grin says this is just too wild. Crazy-intense. You're just blowing me away, Vush ol' buddy. Strap a guy down and crank it up this high? The excitement? I can't believe I'm on fire like this, and there's no getting away from you. Outrageous!"
He tugged on the cigarette, looking like he didn't dare say what he was thinking.
Another lager floated up.
Ko relaxed just a little - he'd get a few more minutes of peace before the nightmare revved back up.
"The grin I see the most," Vush said, "is..."
"Gleeful." He spat the word out.
It chuckled warmly. "The gleeful-grin. That's right. Very suspicious, for a bear who doesn't like to be tickled. You're just feeling it so hard you wanna explode. Come unglued! I can tell. It gets more intense every day. And that smirk tells me hey, you win, Vush. As you always do. You're gonna make me burn for hours and hours. It's never enough. You're the expert. It's eating me alive and I'll wake up again tomorrow, for another full-blown day. Total doom. I just can't believe how much this tickles, and nothing is gonna make Vush stop..."
He smoked, saying nothing. Just waiting for the sky to fall again.
Dinner was over, his fourth cigarette was finished - and he had a weary snarl on his face when the feathers came, and landed, starting to sweep.
His junk started to stir. Up and down, under and back they crawled. Leg creases were teased, all of the soft skin where pubic hair used to be was feathered, and of course the bottom of his ass-crack wasn't going to be ignored.
In no time Ranko was a snickering, groaning mess. His restraints prevented any interruption in the soft assault. Right after he got off, there would be bristles or rotating buffers working so conscientiously that it seemed like a big accomplishment just to keep breathing during the firestorm of sensation that pounded through his body.
He panted for air.
Another rest break. It was preparing him for the next prolonged round of fever. Wet towels had washed his face and torso, and that had become so commonplace that Ko never seemed to take notice anymore.
When his eyes finally opened, a cigarette was hanging there for him to see. Just off to his right was a liter bottle of water.
"Good job," Vush said. "You take everything I throw at you."
Ranko groaned quietly.
Nothing else happened for another minute. When his breathing had slowed down enough, he looked at the water bottle again. It came right over...
Then the smoke, and a lighter.
He took a quick drag and tried to relax, still breathing fairly hard. This was the routine he was used to, though, and while Vush wasn't sure why he took so much comfort in smoking, the results were definitely entertaining. He hadn't been a regular smoker when it first caught him, but now he became subdued - almost less sure of himself - when it cut off the cigs.
And still, that hysterical teenager had grown another fourteen centimeters, and Vush's tattoos were laid down on an additional twenty kilos of hard muscle. Doomsday-tickling had really agreed with him, and not just any slob could be tortured for years without becoming a neurotic nut-case - or finding some way to tolerate the ever-expanding impact.
"You need some relief," it teased him.
"Such a bastard."
"Even though you are a rude man, I will give it to you. With lots of spectacular tickling, right after. Ranko-style."
He whined, low in his throat. The cigarette was his main focus.
Vush never wanted to stop torturing him.
That desire had come to feel more and more like a problem, though. A limitation. It was not about to have a human influencing its decisions, no matter how wild and delirious they became. So it had done what was necessary.
An invisible hand pulled the hair away from his eyes...
He giggles himself awake. Groggy, sleepy - and then a big yawn makes him stretch, catlike as ever.
Ranko lifts his head suddenly and scans the room.
Confusion comes over his face as he raises his arms experimentally - looking at the biker gloves on his hands, and then checking for cuffs or manacles on the arms of the overstuffed chair in which he sprawls.
A cigarette is tucked between his fingers.
He brings it up immediately, like a machine, and doesn't flinch when a lighter zips over to service him. As he sucks in, Ko seems to be amazed that he's been dressed. Cargo shorts, sandals, and a loose gray t-shirt with the logo of those motorcycles from America...
"Hey," he blurts.
"My zlato."
This is new."
"It sure is," Vush says. "we're in Belgrade. South side. A nice hostel."
"You brought me to the city?"
"I did."
"Huh."
"Can you guess why?"
He frowns, after a few seconds. "You're such a bastard."
Vush laughs and laughs. "Let's see if you still think so in an hour. Oh, Ranko, you're going to feel like such an ass."
"Not likely."
"I'm not always a bastard."
"Ha! You torture me..." He shifts around in the chair. "And now I am dressed again, which can't really be a good thing. Maybe a week of the usual bullshit - just one - and then I wake up in Belgrade? How the hell can I even have a shirt on me without laughing?"
"You know perfectly well. After-cream," it says immediately. "Dulls your skin enough to keep you from howling your guts out from the touch of socks or underwear. You've asked me this same question before."
"Well, I still want to get some of that cream."
Laughter crackles over him. "No chance. You'd like that. Nothing to reduce the sensitivity by your choice. You're ol' Ranko, the wildman."
He sighs, frowning.
"I have a much better gift for you today."
The cabin door opens.
Meki is standing there, holding two coffees.
Ranko gapes at her, until she looks down self-consciously. Smiling, though. She walks into the dacha.
This isn't really happening, he tells himself. Vush has obtained some new toy to mess directly with his brain. He can't really be there, unbound, with Meki walking in. For a moment he's embarrassed - but it had dressed him. Vush set this up, washed him and pulled clothes on him, and then brought her -
Meki looks back at his face, and then checks him out. Head to toe. Her eyes stop back... at the gloves he was wearing.
Ko likes the look on her face. The gloves were on him for another reason, perhaps, and not just to keep his hands under control if he got rebellious. He thinks of all the tattoos Vush has laid down, all over his body, and how he's filled out since he and Meki were in that tent...
"If this is a trick," he mumbles, "I'm never gonna forgive you."
"Aaaw," Vush says, with an indulgent laugh or two.
Meki turns toward the sound from his captor... but she doesn't seem surprised.
Ranko finally gets up, turns back to ditch the cigarette, and walks to her.
Meki has her own awkward moment, looking for a place to set the coffees - but they're suddenly taken from her hands.
"Hi!" she says, hugging Ranko tightly.
"Wow," he murmurs into her neck.
"Happy Birthday," Vush says from somewhere behind him.
When they finally separate, hands back him up gently and sit him in the chair. A new smoke floats to his mouth. Ko finally looks away from Meki and takes the next cig, seeing a lighter on its way...
Meki sits on the bed and watches as he starts the cigarette. Shit floating around by magic, as if it did that every day, doesn't seem to be scaring her. She seems fascinated, actually.
He's wondered, many times, how he could ever explain to her why he disappeared. It sounded so stupid in his head whenever he thought about telling her how much he'd wanted to be with her - and what happened to him whenever Vush was in the mood to play...
But now she knew. That impossible conversation was not going to happen. His torturer had done the explaining - and he'd always hoped that Meki would not immedately think that Ko was crazy to describe such things.
"My best buddy is 30," Vush says. "Unbelievable."
He kicks out smoke and looks at Meki, but he's just too embarrassed to make eye contact. The rest of her looks fine, though...
"Since you two are all shy," it teases, "let me get some of the awkward shit out of the way. I introduced myself to Meki - and you were right, Ko, what a fox! - so I could explain what the mighty Ranko had been going through. Ever since he was fifteen. There could not be a less likely playtoy, to look at you, but I brought along some photos. She knew something weird was happening, even back then, but you were such a mysterious dude -"
"Vush, c'mon. Don't... don't be like this."
"Aaaawww. The birthday boy's gotta hear this out, though. You know me. I told beautiful Meki how much you liked the memories from way back. Ranko and Meki, in that old canvas tent. But I made you howl, just for me. And if she wanted to see if Ko was worth another try..."
He looks at her, and sees her nod quickly.
Ranko gulps. He wants her so much it's making him ache down there like he hasn't - well, damn, like he did when they first got together. And she looks so excited to see him worked up like this -
"Yes," Vush chuckles. "I do believe there is a mutual attraction here."
Meki smiles, blushing.
Ranko barely holds back a smutty groan...
"So she seemed interested, and her job was not making her happy. Come to the city for a week, I said. Leave the kids with your ex-mother-in-law and give Ranko a birthday present he's been dreaming about for years. She's already earned a big salary, from me, and of course you -"
"Seriously?" he interrupts, looking right at Meki.
She nods excitedly. "Four hundred thousand," she said - wide-eyed, flashing four fingers in a sneaky way, as if Vush would laugh at her. "In the bank now. There's another account in your name. Two million."
"Huh," he finally says, blown away.
"Big, bad Ranko," Vush teases. "Having the best birthday ever, and it's such a change from the usual grind that he doesn't know what to say."
"It's a big trickster," he says to Meki.
"With you, yes," it says. "Tough guy. But not with everyone."
"Bullshit."
"Daro reminds me so much of you."
That makes him wary. "Daro?"
"Back when you were his age."
"And who's Daro?"
"The new Ranko," Meki says simply.
"No, no!" Vush snickers, "there is nobody like my Ko. Never will be. Don't give him too much hope. But there is a new player now. So much fun. He'll need lots of time to train."
"Miserable asshole," Ko says, out of reflex.
"But not all of the time."
"And here it comes," he snaps. "I just knew it!"
"You two sound like old friends," Meki says.
He just stares at her.
"Vuk is with his new woman, I understand," Vush says. Meki nods. "His children need a father. Perhaps you'll even please me with a ticklish boy or two of your own, Ko."
"That's creepy," he complains.
"We'll see. Now, though, I want you to enjoy this lovely cottage. And Belgrade. Talk things over..."
An big envelope floats to him. Vush brings his glove to life, and his left hand reaches out for it. The flap opens -
"This is the rest of your birthday present," it says.
A fat wad of ten-thousand-dinar notes is floating over his lap. Both of the humans react to the sight of it.
"How much is this room?" Ko asks.
"Already paid for," Meki says, amazed at the floating pile of money. "Reserved in my name."
"Uh-huh -"
"And you also get a signing bonus, for the new job," Vush laughs.
"What does that mean?"
"Well, it's my way of welcoming you... to our new arrangement."
He looks around, suddenly frightened. What's it about to do? Will it pin Meki down now, start tearing her clothes off -
"Easy," it laughs. "You're fine. Both of you. It's just that I can't keep my hands off you forever, Ranko. My howling bear. I get twenty days a year. You know exactly what they'll be like."
His stomach churns. "Twenty. Just - and the rest of the days?"
"I don't know. Learn how to be a dad, perhaps. And a husband. Work on motorcycles, cars - you like that. Meki here has always wanted a big garden. You'll figure it out."
He finishes the cigarette to stall for time. "So... you want me to believe that all the rest of the year, you're just going to leave me alone."
"Daro is so much like you. He's got the gift. He's fascinating. Yeah, it's his turn."
Ranko scoffs. "His turn. Sure. And - and wait, now, you're not going to lock me up, or even touch me, except during these twenty days?"
Vush sighs.
"This must be very hard to believe," Meki says, to reassure him. "I've had about four weeks to get used to all of this, and it's been... consistent, Ranko. I mean, it does not have to let you go, but I've been hearing about how amazing this Daro boy is." She looks around. "I didn't think it was sincere, at first. But there's no better explanation. It was very proud of catching you, and torturing you. It seems to be proud of this new plan too."
"Very tricky," he says helplessly.
"And even I do not want to push you until you break," it says. "Much better to have an annual party. Revisit all of the most exciting techniques!"
He shivers.
"A long weekend every three months," the tickler announces, "and there was the suggestion of a week for the Guča Festival. Someone's family makes a visit there each year."
Meki looks down at her feet, embarrassed.
Ranko finally tears his attention away from her and looks around for the cigarettes. "You're going to leave me alone, until these times? These scheduled torture sessions?"
"Such a smart animal," Vush says.
"I don't have a choice, do I?" he asks Meki.
"No." She's looking at his ankles. The flaming-glove tattoos. Damn, but he just can't wait to jump her -
"One more thing." His gloved hand brings the cigarette to his mouth, and then wraps his own fingers around his throat. "If anyone else were to ever cheat on this courageous woman, I would make absolutely sure he was surrounded with tickling-machines - smart ones, that are programmed to stretch things out - for the rest of his days. And there would be more days than even an old hand such as yourself could imagine."
"Uh, understood."
The glove lets go of him. "Now, for that bonus..."
The envelope turns over.
Brightly colored, glossy paper.
"We'll have to get you passports," the invisible matchmaker laughs.
World Cup package. All-access passes, shuttles and lodging - for two.
He looks up with tears in his eyes.
"Easy, easy," a voice is saying. So damn wonderful...
Fingers playing in his hair.
"Whuh," Ranko grunts, panting for air.
"It isn't here anymore."
That voice. Can it be? "Meki?"
She kisses his cheek.
"It's real," he sighs. Oh, shit, Ranko feels great. He's with Meki again. They've gone at it twice and he's ready for more.
The room is dark and quiet.
"It's not here?"
"I don't think so. How can you be sure?"
He sighs. "That's the big question. I'm so afraid I'll wake up, and this will all have been a dream."
"I keep thinking that too." Meki sighs happily. "Better than the bad dream you were just having. I like it when you giggle."
"That's, uh, every time I go to sleep," he says, embarrassed.
"It'll go away eventually."
He wonders about that, and looks over to the nightstand. Ko gets himself a smoke lit before he remembers Meki, and turns back to her nervously. "Uh, there's other things that will take a while -"
She punches his arm slowly. "I was already warned. Go ahead. I can see it won't be long before I start back up too."
"I hope not," he mumbles - but Ranko doesn't mean it. He loads up with obvious relief.
"What was the dream? Just now?"
He kicks out smoke. There's nowhere else he'd rather be. Twenty days a year is nothing, compared to what Vush usually put him through... "Early times. One of the first summers..." He shivers suddenly, good and hard.
"When was this?"
He's self-conscious, all of a sudden. "I was seventeen. No, sixteen. The year after it, uh, found me."
"Daro's got you beat by a year."
"Damn Vush." He stares at the ceiling, as if it'll hop right down and start to punish him again.
"I knew you didn't leave because you wanted to. Something else - and eventually I knew I would find out. Vush is very determined. What it wants... and if there was some way to make it stop, you'd be the one to know," Meki says, idly working on a tangle in the hair close to his left ear.
"No. It's much more intent on - on what it likes than you or I could ever be. It got me drunk and got me talking. About you." He squeezed her shoulder. "Never thought it would let me have this."
"That's why you dropped out of school?"
He snorts. "Vush was tired of waiting. It wanted every possible minute..." Ranko grunts and takes another badly needed drag, sending a hand over to stroke Meki's head. It's so amazing, after all these years, to be laying next to her again. "That kid, though - it's so... intense. Hell, I can't even describe it. His folks are never gonna understand."
"He doesn't have any people," Meki says softly.
"Orphan?"
"Yes."
He pauses, thinking that over. "Why do I feel like I've been outfoxed? Again?"
Meki slides out from under his hand and leans on an elbow. "It made me promise. I wasn't going to say anything about it until tomorrow."
He rears back a little and studies her. "How many other surprises -"
"This is the only one," Meki says quickly. "I swear it!"
"Right."
"Ranko. Now, c'mon, I wasn't in the best position to make a deal either. Just like you."
He relaxes. "Minx. So what have you agreed to do?"
"It's not right that a child should have to figure out how to live with that... that weirdness. You know better than anyone that it is real, and that it's so intense. You could've used a friend who had gone through it too -"
Ranko leans in and kisses her head. "Yes. I know what he's going through. But you must not call him a child. Vush has already been... training him. Everywhere."
"Ah."
He finishes the smoke and snuffs it out.
They lay close together, saying nothing for a nice minute.
"So," he says hopefully.
"Yeah," Meki smiles. "Okay. You animal. If you brush your teeth first. And I could do with a quick wash myself."
He snickers at the ceiling. It feels so good to do that because he wants to, and not because he has to. "Deal."
13sep2012