Author's note: Time to kick off a new story! 'Young Dogs' takes place within the canon timeline and is set during Dee's teenage years. The story chronicles how a chance meeting leads to Dee re-evaluating his sexuality.
Reviews are always very welcome, especially now when I'm starting to think that pulling out my own teeth may be easier than setting words to paper (or Word doc). I could do with a little love right about now…
Disclaimer: I don't own FAKE or its characters. Sanami Matoh has that honour. I just like to play with them for a while.
PLEASE NOTE: Due to the nature of this story, some scenes will be heavily edited to comply with this site's rules. If you want it full and uncut you can find it over at mediaminer under 'Swordy'.
Young Dogs
Chapter 1 – Teenage Kicks
The burning in his muscles intensified, but he had no intention of stopping while the pounding of running feet remained behind him. Adrenaline fuelled his escape and the exhilaration made him want to laugh out loud. Just up ahead his friend charged on, his untidy thatch of blond hair bobbing up and down like the bristles of a brush. A high wall was approaching and the teenager prepared himself to leap, following his fellow escapee and hopefully putting some distance between them and their angry pursuer.
He scrambled over the barrier with ease – youth and agility on his side. The man in hot pursuit could not say the same and the chase ended abruptly with chased and chaser on opposite sides of a high perimeter wall. Secure in the knowledge that they were no longer being followed, the two boys slowed to a leisurely jog, grinning at each other with an enthusiasm borne of triumph.
"That's gotta be the closest he's gotten yet!" the dark haired teenager chuckled, slightly out of breath.
His companion nodded enthusiastically as he reached into his jacket for the spoils of their adventure. "Want one?"
Slowing to a walk, Dee held his hand out to receive a packet of cigarettes, slightly squashed from the high paced escape. He shook one out of the carton and lit it.
"Reckon he'll tell the penguin?"
Dee shrugged as they sauntered along. "Probably, but I'm already in the shit with her so it don't matter."
Arnon grinned. "You realise if it was anyone else she'd have kicked them out long ago? I dunno what you've got, buddy, but you should bottle it!"
"Charisma, my friend, charisma."
"Even so, you wanna take it easy, Dee. You got a good thing going on with that nun."
Dee laughed, but he knew Arnon was right. The elderly nun had defended him more times than he cared to remember and despite his bravado, he hated hurting her, which invariably happened when she learnt of his numerous misdemeanours. He'd entertain the younger kids, help them with their homework – that would hopefully go someway to right this most recent wrong.
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"DEE!! I know you're up there!"
Dee winced. For a tiny woman she sure had a powerful set of lungs. Now was the time to get in a few prayers of forgiveness before she reached his attic room, indeed her footsteps were already on the rickety wooden ladder.
"Dee!" The hatch in the floor lifted and the familiar sight of a crinkled face, framed by a nun's habit appeared in the gap. The lines on her face were deepened by a sharp frown. "I've just had a call from Mr. Chalmers at the store. He says you were in yesterday."
Dee feigned a look of innocence. "Are you sure it was me?"
The nun snorted as she climbed the last few steps into the attic. "Unfortunately for you, you're easily recognisable. He says you were stealing. Is it true?"
With no excuse prepared, he wilted under her iron-hard gaze. "It was only one packet of cigarettes," he said feebly.
"Oh, Dee. How many times do we have to go through this?"
"I know, I'm sorry-"
"I can't keep bailing you out. Do you know how long I was on the phone pleading with him not to go to the police? Fortunately he said he wouldn't, but he made it categorically clear that this is the last time he's going to turn a blind eye."
"Thanks, mother-"
She held her hand up to stop him. "I don't want your thanks. I want your solemn word that this is absolutely the last time that this happens."
"I promise you that you'll get no more phone calls about me – ow!" He rubbed his head ruefully where she had smacked him. "What was that for?"
The nun smiled, her eyes twinkling. "I'm sure you think I'm senile. I want you to promise me that you'll stop shop lifting, not that I'll stop hearing about when you've been caught."
He held his hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay. I promise you I'll stop shop lifting. I only stole because I'd given my money to the younger kids so they could get some candy."
The nun's already wrinkled face crinkled further as she smiled. That was just like Dee to take care of the younger children at the orphanage. "Well, as noble as your intentions were, there's still the small matter of your punishment."
"Punishment?" Dee repeated, with a groan. Knowing the nun, it'd probably be a tedious, dirty and back-breaking cleaning job in the church. "Surely being whacked around the head is punishment enough?"
The nun laughed out loud as she headed back to the hatch. "Oh, my son. Surely you know me better than that."
"That's what I was worried about," Dee muttered into his pillow.
True to her word, Penguin had lined him up with a doozy of a punishment. Perhaps the only saving grace was that Arnon, Barry and Tommy had also been roped into hard labour – Penguin style. Just as they thought they were finally done with the mammoth list of tasks she'd found them to do around the orphanage, she sprung a new one on them.
"Here," she handed Dee a piece of paper with an address written on it.
The boys looked warily at each other.
"The new owner needs help moving in. Most of it's stuff he's had in storage, which he now wants putting in the attic. I said you'd be round at nine o'clock prompt tomorrow."
"Tomorrow!" Dee looked horrified. "But tomorrow's Saturday! Tell me you're…"
He didn't dare finish the sentence. The glare told him Penguin most definitely was not joking.
"Nine o'clock," she reiterated firmly, before she turned on her heel and moved away at a surprising speed for someone of her age and physical condition.
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Not that he would ever have admitted it, but Dee felt somewhat intimidated as the four of them stood on the sidewalk outside the house they had been told to come to. He felt at home on the streets of his neighbourhood, having only ever lived at the orphanage. It was situated in an undesirable part of town – ironic since undesired seemed to fit him and the circumstances of his birth so well. He'd seen people who'd ended up in his neighbourhood by accident. 'The wrong part of town' they'd tell friends later on when they were safely ensconced in their comfortable little lives, sharing their distain for what they'd experienced. He could see their friends, shaking their heads in disbelief, saying things like 'wow, isn't that awful? You were lucky you didn't get mugged or worse.'
He'd seen them grip their purses a little tighter when they saw him, their eyes hurriedly looking away, as if that one action would keep them safe. Now the tables were turned. Everything about this street screamed class, elegance, luxury – bywords that had no place in his existence, and frankly, it scared the hell out of him. Penguin must have been crazy.
"You think they're gonna want us in their house?" Barry said dubiously, breaking the silence and finally getting the other teenagers to tear their eyes away from the mansion. Clearly he was on the same wavelength.
"'Bout as much as they want woodworm," Dee replied with a snort.
"Are you sure this is the right house?" Arnon asked, despite being the one holding the piece of paper with the address on it.
Dee nodded. "Penguin was very clear about it. Apparently the guy that owns this place made a very generous contribution to the orphanage's upkeep. They go way back or something."
"Speaking of which," Barry said, inclining his head towards the front door that was starting to open. A face appeared bearing a smile of welcome. The man could be no one but the owner of the house. Like his abode, he too reeked of wealth. His clothes were obviously designer, and even at a distance it was apparent that his skin, despite the weathering of time, was well cared for. His hair had been dark once, but the silvering around the temples added a distinguished air that reminded Dee of a judge, or even a politician.
Brilliant, Dee thought. Dee Laytner, petty thief and Judge Judy.
"You must be the boys Mother Maria sent. Please, come on in." Dee glanced to his left and concluded his friends must be feeling similarly intimidated. Arnon was scuffing his sneaker in some non-existent dirt as Barry and Tommy fidgeted like children in a lineup to find out who had thrown eggs at the school room window. He had to elbow Barry in the ribs to get them moving.
"Which one of you is Dee?"
The question surprised the dark haired young man. His answer was hesitant. "I am, Sir."
"It's James and it's good to meet you. I've heard so much about you from Maria."
Dee was certain he could hear sniggering somewhere behind him. Penguin couldn't have told him all that much, unless she'd included all the terrible things he'd done over the years and he couldn't really see the old nun shouting about that.
"Well, mother said you needed some boxes moving?"
James smiled as he closed the door behind them. "Indeed I do. I guess I didn't realise how much stuff I had. Unfortunately we put most of it in one of the rooms on this floor, but now it all needs going up in the attic."
Their eyes instinctively went to the imposing staircase spiralling upwards. Dee groaned internally, cursing his twenty a day habit. His face however reflected the knowledge that Penguin was counting on him to repay her for saving his ass. "Well, if you show us where your stuff is and where you want it to go, we'll get started, Sir."
James smiled with genuine gratitude as he headed to the stairs. "Okay, let me show you the attic first."
He started to ascend, the boys obediently following behind. Their sneakers squeaked on the alabaster marble, their hands reluctant to mark the highly polished gold handrail that followed the spiral staircase like a perfectly coiled serpent. They stopped suddenly, realising someone was else was above them as James started to speak. They were even more surprised when they realised that he was speaking French to the young man now resting against the railing of the first floor landing.
There was no smile as the young man listened. He nodded in comprehension then his dark eyes flicked to Dee. Dee couldn't help but notice that his gaze didn't stray any further. He could only be in his early twenties, but an air of confidence surrounded him that gave him a haughty, slightly aristocratic look. Dee bristled. Who the hell did he think he was? The young man turned and went into one of the rooms, closing the door behind him.
"So if you'll take them up here…"
Dee realised James was still talking to him. He snapped out of his thoughts and continued to ascend the stairs after the other man, his friends dutifully following. They were shown how to access the attic and then taken back down to the ground floor where the boxes were. Dee didn't bother to count them – there were a lot and they all looked damned heavy.
The soundtrack of the morning was muted grumbling for several hours – until James came along and pushed a generous amount of dollar bills into Dee's hand to buy them all lunch. Enlivened by the sight of money, Barry talked ten to the dozen as they headed back into their territory for a decent meal.
"I swear that guy's gotta have more money than Donald Trump! Did you see those vases and paintings and stuff?"
Tommy snorted. "What the hell do you know about art, dumb ass?"
"I know your mug's no oil painting."
A half-hearted scuffle followed. Dee glanced at his watch. "Come on, ladies. We said we wouldn't be long."
"Why you so twitchy?" Arnon asked as he fell into stride beside the tallest boy.
Dee shrugged. "I'm just trying to get Penguin off my back."
"So it's not because you feel guilty for making the old girl worry about you?"
The denial stuck in his throat. They all knew how he felt about Penguin, so protesting otherwise was pointless. It didn't stop him glaring all the same. Arnon sensed the sudden shift in mood.
"So, what do you reckon's the deal with that young French dude?"
The question brought the haughty face swimming back into Dee's mind. His irritation at the way he'd been looked at came too.
"Dunno. He looked pretty far up his own ass."
"I don't mean that. I meant him and the older guy. Something weird's going on there, if you ask me."
"Weird how?"
Arnon rolled his eyes as the others caught up with them and their conversation. "Well they ain't father and son, put it like that."
Barry chuckled. "You're talkin' about that queer boy back there?"
"See? At least art critic here's got eyes," Arnon said triumphantly. "Like I said, they weren't father and son."
"Whatever," Dee replied, waving off their banter. "Let's go eat."
With full stomachs they returned to their duties. The day had gotten surprisingly warm, and they were glad when the final box was in the attic and they could leave. James appeared to show them out, his young companion now nowhere to be seen. He gave them ten bucks each – unnecessary since they were there as a punishment - and would not hear of them refusing it. The boys left happy and Penguin seemed satisfied that they had done enough to make amends.
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Months passed and any memories about that day were quickly swallowed up by later events. Death very rarely gave prior warning when it was coming to town, and its arrival that year was nothing short of unexpected. Dee had known Arnon was in some kind of trouble; the normally easygoing boy had become uptight and secretive - snappy and defensive when questioned. They'd all tried to help, but Arnon had gone beyond their reach and soon that became a permanent arrangement. His death was bad, but things worsened with the discovery of Jess's involvement in the whole sorry affair. Unbeknown to him, a chain of events had been set in motion that would culminate in Jess's death – and a new found direction to his previously aimless life.
It was early evening when Penguin requested permission to come into his room. Since he had become the orphanage's longest staying resident, the nun had allowed him to use the attic as his own space. She knew it was favouritism – but Dee was an easy boy to favour and not only for his difficult start and repeated disappointments following failed adoptions. She saw something within him – something that helped her see past his indiscretions and flirtations with petty crime. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd told his detractors that she knew he'd make her proud one day. It hadn't quite happened yet, but she was a patient woman.
"Dee?"
He looked surprised to see her. His face did the contortion of one quickly wracking his brains to determine if he'd done anything he'd be in trouble for, then relaxed.
"What's up?"
The nun shook her head as she carefully climbed through the hatch. She knew exactly what he'd just mentally done and wondered when he'd ever behave himself long enough for that reflex action to die.
"I've just had a call from James Summers. Do you remember him? You helped him move some of his possessions when he moved into his new house. He's asked that you go around there when you have some free time."
"More stuff to move?" he replied incredulously, the memory of his aching back surfacing with surprising clarity.
"I don't think so. All he said was that he wanted you to go round."
"Me? As in me on my own?"
She nodded. He noted mild concern in her eyes, possibly wondering if he done something he now needed to answer for. He didn't blame her for that – he'd given her enough reason to fret about him and what he was up to every moment he was out of her sight.
"I didn't do anything, Penguin, I swear."
Times like this, he knew his life had backfired on him. He loved the old girl more than life itself and it crushed him when she doubted his honesty. His faith was restored when she smiled, the expression touching her eyes as well as her mouth.
"I know you didn't, Dee. Unfortunately for you, your eyes tell me everything." She reached up and tenderly stroked his face. "I don't know what James wants, but it won't be anything bad, I'm sure."
TBC…