This seems agreeable enough to both Katia and Devon. So they get their things together. They get one of the cars warmed up. They go to town and have ribs. Devon, ignoring lessons learned, drinks some beer. They talk inconsequentially about plans for the rest of the week and for New Year's, which they plan on spending down in Denver to watch fireworks. Normally, one might think, Devon would go partying that night. She won't, this time: she just wants to hang out with her mum and boyfriend.
In the interim, though, they play out their evening. They play out the week. Christmas is decorated lavishly, with a golden roasted turkey and all the trimmings at the table, but the gifts under the tree are few and simple and touching, but at least where Devon and Katia are concerned, not extravagant. They do have holiday crackers, and the two of them wear paper crowns from the noisy toys, and Devon puts one on Rafael's head for a while, too, insistent that he share in the tradition.
Devon gives her mother a hair clip and a scarf and a box of truffles: things you could pick up for a few spare dollars, wrap prettily, and little more. Katia gives her a blank journal and a little set of miniature nail enamels in dark colors. Of all things, Katia gets Rafael a pair of warm woolen socks and a coffee-table esque book full of glossy pictures of Brazil, because she knows they visited together once. Devon gives him a photo of the two of them from Thanksgiving in a frame and some whiskey stones.
Presents opened around a fire, and chocolates eaten, and Devon spends most of her time cuddling with one or the other of them. She reads her mother's tarot later on while Rafael sips whiskey and looks through his new book. They get silly and decide to ride the snowmobiles, which neither Katia nor Devon have ever done before.
It's not a bad Christmas. And when the stay at the mansion winds down, they drive the long drive back down to Denver. Devon has to work, even while her mother stays. She sneaks away once or twice to her room at Naomi's, partly to drop off rent money for January, but spends most of her time at the condo when she isn't working. She takes her mother around the town on her day off. Katia goes out on her own confidently, touring Denver and generally staying out of Rafael's way.
A few times, they do chat while Devon isn't there as a buffer. It is usually awkward and quiet and brief, but Katia seems to like him just fine, and thinks he is funny in his shyness, and asks him for recommendations about where to have lunch or what she should see while she's in town, but doesn't fault him if -- or just as likely, when -- he doesn't know.
Then it is the New Year, with fireworks over the stadium and champagne at Rafael's house, and they play cards and watch a movie and stay in while listening to the inanity of downtown Denver's celebrants.
RafaelThe gifts wolf gets girl and her mother speak to his inexperience at these things. Holidays. Family. This family in particular: the little things they give each other, more love than material worth. In comparison, his gifts are embarrassingly lavish. He gets girl's mother plane tickets between London and Denver, a lot of them, paid for and freely changeable. He gets the girl a car, an actual automobile, titled and licensed. A smallish one with great gas mileage and not a lot of frills and thrills, but still. A car.
Because he doesn't want her to have to take the bus everywhere -- as if she didn't already uber around freely with his credit card. He doesn't want her to have to wait for public transportation at unsafe hours, in unsafe places.
It's awkward, though, as soon as he sees what they got each other, and him. He thinks he might've made them feel self-conscious and overshadowed. He thinks he feels self-conscious and ridiculous. Hopes they don't think him foolish, wasteful, totally unaware of the value of money.
--
Snowmobiling is a nice break from that. A release, crisp mountain air and unspoiled snowbanks. It's a nice Christmas after all. At night wolf helps girl's mother light the fire in her room. Thinks of Thanksgiving, and all the rituals of wintertime, beckoning spring back to the world.
--
Down in Denver the days seem to go by faster. Girl and her mother go out together when she has a day off. Wolf takes girl's mother out once when girl's at work. They go to a gallery, fine photography, which wolf understands a little more intuitively than fine art. He thinks she might like it because of the book she gave him. Later on they find a Portuguese restaurant, bring takeout home and eat with the girl.
Soon enough it's New Year's. Soon enough it's the new year, the holiday season officially ended, girl's mother preparing to go back to London. Morning of her departure, wolf mostly leaves mother and daughter alone. Lets them have their time. Comes to knock on the door of the guest room when it's about time to go, car keys in his hand.
"Should come back soon," he says, that understated mutter. "Was good having you here."
DevonTruth be told, Katia and Devon are a little... overwhelmed. Katia, however, is far more gracious and quick to get over her discomfort and gleefully hug Rafael for his gift to her, squeezing him where he sits and then hugging Devon just as tightly. Devon is, not surprisingly, weirder about it.
Because she seems uncomfortable. She almost seems ungrateful. Katia seems stunned, and perhaps -- deep down, flitting under the surface -- wary. But at the same time, they're out there in the garage and there's this electric blue Mini and it doesn't have every single bell and whistle but it's small and cute and the part of her that really likes it takes over a bit, laughing as he shows her the button for the sunroof.
Devon is grateful. And she does like it. And it is awkward, and there is something about the gift that makes her unsettled, but they don't fight. Not that day. They go snowmobiling instead. Devon performs no rituals -- none that she shares with her mum and boyfriend -- for Yule.
--
She drives her little car around. Parks it in tiny parallel spots near Hooked when she's working. Defensively tells people when they ask that her boyfriend got it for her, daring them with her tone to make some crack, like somehow it's a secret that her boyfriend is rich; it isn't.
She meets them at the Clyfford Still museum after her shift one afternoon. She goes to the Denver Art Museum with them before another shift. They go see Star Wars together. She comes home one night to the smell of familiar home smells and then suggests that her mum make that thing she likes for New Year's, which is how they end up eating shrimp moqueca to ring in 2016.
Devon hangs out in the guest room with her mum while she packs up to leave, and they talk, and Rafael leaves them alone, until he knocks. Katia smiles at him as he steps inside, gruff and yet -- she thinks -- a nice enough young man. "Well you have made it very easy," she says, with a laugh. Comes over to him, patting his arms, indicating he should lean over so she can give him a hug. "You have been a very good host."
RafaelObligingly, he leans down. He is hugged. And then -- and this isn't merely obliging a guest, but something a little more genuine -- he wraps an arm around Katia's shoulders. Hugs her back.
"Glad," he says. And a bit of a confession, "Was trying to be."
Straightens up, then. Looks about. "I'll get your bags. You got everything for the trip? Passport, ID, snacks?"
DevonKatia pats his back beofre he straightens up. Smiles up at him. Devon, lazily lounging on the bed, is watching them with those unreadable eyes, that enigmatic mouth. His questions make Katia laugh a bit; she nods and --
-- and they go. Rafael carries her luggage and Devon holds her hand and it's Devon who has trouble letting go at the airport. Katia holds her tightly, tears at the corners of her eyes, but they do manage to let go. It's always strange, saying goodbye at the airport these days. Knowing that the person is still there, will still be there for hours, but beyond your reach. No more waiting with them for boarding. No more watching them take off. No more looking out the window from the plane, hoping to see your loved ones standing in those vast windows, waving to you.
The world has changed in these petty, hollow ways.
--
Devon's quiet on the way home. She texts with her mum for a while, in the car and at the house, as though two weeks together wasn't enough. They are terribly close. You'd think she would get tired of her mother, or that either of them would want a break. But they were hardly attached at the hip for those two weeks. Here and there she laughs at something her mum texts her.
At his place she rations the leftovers of the moqueca. She mopes for a few days about Katia being gone.
But then it's mid-January, and but for some excursions to get her stuff, she hasn't gone back to Neomi's.
RafaelQuiet on the way home too. Leaves her be in her silence. Understands, intuitively, the ache of leaving a loved one -- even if he doesn't have a comparable relationship with a parent. While she texts, he drives. While she rations out the shrimp moqueca, he cleans out some too-old leftovers from the fridge.
"You were right," he says after a while: their backs to each other, each absorbed in simple housework. "About her shrimp mokek. It's really good."
Rafael--
She mopes a few days. He does what he does. Hunts at night and sleeps til noon. Puts stuff on the grocery list for the maid. Gets his meals cooked and his house cleaned and his laundry done. Couple warm days has him breaking out the motorcycle again. Couple cool nights has them curled on his favorite recliner watching old movies.
And she's still lurking about, a day later, a week, two. It's mid-January and
one day
he realizes she hasn't slept back at Naomi's since before the holidays. He realizes this because it's eleven pm and she's coming home from a closing shift; her keys in the lock and her scentless, intriguing self slipping through the door. He lifts his head, looks at her over the top of his recliner.
"Hey." He clicks the TV to mute. Waits for her to get out of her coat and shoes, set down her bag. Holds his hand out to her.
Devon"Told you so," is how Devon answers him, regarding her mother's cooking. It's her favorite food for a reason. But if she notices that he doesn't eat any, that he leaves the leftovers for Devon all to herself, she doesn't thank him for it.
--
She comes in wearing her leggings, some miniskirt, a sweater. Her hair is loose and she smells vaguely of coffee and pastries and other people: he can always tell where she's been, what she's done, who she has met, but when she comes out of the shower there's nothing there, nothing to tell him where she is, who she is, what she is.
He looks over, and she slips out of her flats and heads over to him, shedding clothes and bag as she goes, always leaving a messy trail. Takes his hand and climbs onto him, cuddles beside him. "What are you watching?"
Rafael"Some B-movie about zombies," he says. On-screen: somewhat second-rate CGI zombies lurch about while our heroes clutch makeshift weapons. "It's not very good."
His eyes are still on the screen. She snuggles in next to him. Feels natural, that. His arm weighs around her, and he kisses her temple. "You move back in?" Question's light, but only because he makes it so.
Devon"Stop watching it, then," she mutters, tucking herself close to him. His arm over her shoulders; her feet nestled under his calves. He kisses her head and asks a question that is forcibly casual.
"What do you mean?" she asks, mimicking his artificial lightness.
RafaelHe huffs a breath out. Picks up the remote from the arm of the recliner, clicks back to the Netflix menu.
Puts on some comedy instead. Might be 30rock. Still muted.
"Just seen you around here a lot. Don't think you've slept at Naomi's for a while now."
DevonDevon's eyes stay on the screen as he turns on whatever was on his Keep Watching queue. Her hand is curled on top of his chest, light and small by comparison, lifting and falling with his breath.
Seen her around. Like he wouldn't notice, doesn't notice -- immediately -- when she's gone. She breathes in, and shakes her head.
"Haven't," she confirms, ever so cagey.
RafaelShe still hasn't answered him. Wolf knows better than to push, push, push, though. Goes quiet a while.
"Happy to have you, if you're back," he says eventually, quietly. "All right if you're not."
DevonThat's good, for her.
Truth is, she doesn't know if she wants to live here again. Just knows she keeps getting to the end of the day and wanting to be back with him. He doesn't ask for definition, for certainty. She closes her eyes and nuzzles against his shoulder.
"Love you," she murmurs to him. "Lots."
Quiet then, for a bit.
"Thank you for... all that," she whispers, unsure of how to put it. "Mum. Christmas. All of it."
RafaelShe's affectionate, but he thinks he senses vulnerability there. "Too," he murmurs. Hugs her a little tighter against his side.
They watch TV a while. Or well: he stares at the screen, captions and mute action passing over him without penetrating his consciousness. When she speaks again his chest rises on a breath.
"Happy to," he says again. "Liked your mom. Just sometimes didn't know how to carry myself around her, since she's ... not like us. Hope she didn't mind too much."
DevonShe's quiet about that for a moment. They are watching something they have both seen before, so its silence doesn't make a difference. She remembers the jokes, but doesn't hear them, doesn't quite process them enough to laugh. She closes her eyes slowly, blinks them open just as gently.
"Sometimes I don't know how to be around her, too," she murmurs. "Hard not to say certain things. Hard to remember not to say certain things."
A pause.
"Didn't know what I was til after he died, you know that? Knew I was a witch. Didn't know about Garou til... ten years ago, I think it was."
RafaelSilence answers her: he didn't know that. Girl's got a quiet boyfriend, taciturn, wolf of few words. He thinks she'll understand anyway.
Listens, though. And covers her hand on his chest after a while, protective. "Must be hard," he says quietly: that sometimes she doesn't know how to be around her mother.
And a little later: "How'd you find out?"
Devon"Yeah," she murmurs, achingly. "Tell her everything. Can't tell her this. It's... weird."
He asks, she pauses. Twists a bit to look at him. "How'd we find out he died, or how'd I find out I was Kin?"
Rafael"That you're kin," he says. And then, realizing: "But the other thing too."
DevonDevon takes a small breath, but it is not subtle; he feels her chest move against his side, her ribs pressing against his ribs, her air filling up the space beside his own.
"Brian and Sheila sat me down and told me." Beat. "For both. But for one of those conversations, mum was there. They told me about the... Garou thing... a few days later. Same way though. Sat me down. Told me something I didn't want to hear."
There's a longer pause this time.
"For the second one, though, they gave me whiskey."
RafaelWolf laughs a little at that. "'Course they did," he says.
Couple moments' pause. He's lounging the way he does, leaned back and stretched out, tucking his free hand behind his head as she curls up with him. Lower registers of his voice vibrate through his chest as he speaks again, palpable to her palm.
"You ever ... suspect anything was different about you? Before you found out."
DevonArm tucked up like that makes it easier for her to smell him. It's not gross; he's not wretched. She can just smell him, and by now the smell is familiar and unnameable and instantly recognizable all at once. She closes her eyes and huffs a soundless laugh beside him.
"I was moving shit with my mind in preschool. So... yeah." That's not what he meant, though. She shakes her head a little. "Being kin, though. I had no idea."
Rafael"Always wondered about that," he says. "'Cause I knew. Long before I shifted. Knew something was different. When it finally happened, just felt like things finally made sense.
"Guess me turning into a wolf is more like you moving shit though."
Devon"Maybe," Devon says, thoughtful but, as usual, a touch contrary. She scritches her fingernails on his chest gently, affectionately. "Maybe if I hadn't been dealing with the other stuff, I would have still felt something strange about me. Noticed more strange things about the family."
She nuzzles him, blind and warm to his chest. Plays a gentle game of footsie with him. "When did it happen?" she asks, opening her eyes slowly, looking up at him. She wants to say to him that neither of them ever tell their stories, that so much time has passed and they know so little about one another's pasts even now. But it is probably unnecessary to say. So she just asks him.
RafaelWolf says nothing for a little while. Her foot toys with his. His foot ... mostly stays where it is, bare and lean and big.
"Was sixteen and living in a group home in Philly. Ran away for like the tenth time one day, but that time was different. Left 'cause I had to, like something was under my skin clawing to get out. Made it to the train tracks, overpass on the outskirts of the city. And then whatever was clawing made its way out. Turned out it was me all along."
Takes a breath. Lets it out.
"Nobody found me or anything. Just ran myself exhausted and slept in a ditch. Drifted for a while. Got picked up in Baltimore, put back in the system. Was kind of a lost cub for a while. When I turned eighteen system was done with me. Hooked me up with a job bussing tables. Got fired in two weeks because customers were afraid of me. Was pissed. Threw a table across the room.
"Turned out one of the customers was a Garou. Recognized me, recognized my blood. Was the first time I met someone like me. He was a drifter too. A Strider. Told me what I was and moved on. Must've passed the word on though.
"About three years after that I was in Harrisburg and a pack caught up to me, said they'd been looking for me for a couple weeks. Dragged me back to their Sept and told me they needed me for a war. That's how I finally got trained and ranked."
DevonAnd this time, Devon says nothing for a little while. She curls against him and holds him and listens. Her brow furrows early on, and deepens later.
But when he's done, she is silent. For a few moments at least. And then she says and whispers: "It sounds so lonely."
RafaelHe huffs a laugh. Takes his hand from behind his head, covers hers again.
"Didn't mind. Don't like people much, remember."
Devon"I mind," she murmurs. "So many bad things could have happened to you. And no one took care of you."
RafaelCould say he doesn't need to be taken care of. Big tough wolf. Big strong Ahroun.
Doesn't say that. Nuzzles her temple a moment, absentminded, animal. Then bumps his brow against that same spot.
"Got you now, don't I?"
Devon"I'm not sad about now, though," she says softly, moving her head with the nuzzle, the bump. He's so weird.
Rafael"Don't be sad about the past either. Over and done."
DevonDevon shakes her head. "For you it is," she says, opening her eyes, scooting up a little to see him more clearly. "I just found out about it. And it makes me sad."
She realizes she's frowning. She tries to soften it; ends up tilting her head a bit. "Feels like... pushing me away."
Rafael"What?" He's taken off guard. "Me telling you that story?"
Devon"No," she says, quickly. Settles against him again. "When you... don't let me be sad for you. Young you. Shrug it off."
Her hand on his chest thumps once, twice, softly... and also thoughtlessly mimicking his heartbeat. "When you act like it doesn't matter. Matters to me. Like knowing stuff I went through matters to you. Makes you feel things. I let you feel them, don't I?"
RafaelThinks about that for a moment. Then nods, just a couple times.
"Okay."
DevonShe nestles. She's. Very. Goddamn. Cuddly. She smooths her hand over his chest and wraps it around his side, her arm covering him.
"Someone should have taken care of you," she says softly. It's almost a sigh.
It's the last she has to say on the subject.
RafaelIn spite of himself, his unwillingness to be pitied or even sympathized with very much, wolf finds the corners of his mouth turning up.
"Love you," he says, quiet. "Glad you're back. Even if it's just for a while."
DevonThat makes the corner of her mouth -- just one corner, sly and sidelong -- turn up, too. She tips her head up, kisses his jaw. "Yeah," she says.
