Haddock's always been there for his lad...

...

Haddock looked up as he saw Tintin walk into the library and sit down somewhat heavily on the nearby couch. "How goes it, my boy?" he asked jovially, reaching for his nightly glass of Loch Lomond.

"Oh, okay I guess." Came a rather dispirited reply.

Frowning, he took in the lad's somewhat droopy shoulders and downcast eyes.

"Something wrong?" he inquired - hoping for but not really expecting any answer.

"Mmmm." Tintin replied noncommittally.

Haddock gave a mental shrug. He had tried.

Watching the boy out of the corner of his eye as Tintin stood and began to peruse the library shelves he noticed that the lad seemed definitely not his usual chipper self. Even his irrepressible dog was rather quiet, just sitting there staring at its young master, the ears a bit down and the brown eyes concerned.

Eventually Tintin selected something to read for the evening and returned to his usual spot. Haddock went back to his own night's entertainment and soon lost himself in reading about the newest line of freighters.

"Captain?"

"Mmmm, lad?"

"Can we…talk?"

There was something in that rather innocent statement that had the Captain shutting his magazine and laying it aside. Giving his full attention to the young man across from him, he gave an encouraging smile. "Course we can, lad. What's on your mind?"

Tintin pulled his lips to one side and glanced away. "Not sure if it's my mind that's the problem." He stated.

"Oh?" Haddock replied, confused by the odd answer.

"Um…what I mean is…I seem to be troubled by…odd feelings. Strange urges. I wake up at night in cold sweats. And I can't seem to concentrate on anything. I swear, Captain, I feel like a…a…silly schoolboy or something."

"Hmmmm." The older man replied, giving this strange recital some thought. "You running a fever, feel ill at all?"

"Not at all, physically I feel fine. I guess. Well…sometimes I feel anxious to the point of practically jumping out of my skin and other times I feel like I can't get out of bed in the morning. I just don't understand it." Tintin answered, his forehead wrinkling with confusion. "I've never felt this way."

"Tell me lad, how long have you been feeling this way?"

Tintin was silent for a while, trying to think back.

"I guess…since we came home from our last adventure. I was too busy writing but even then I was having a hard time trying to keep my thoughts focused. Ever since then I've felt…discombobulated." Tintin finished, huffing out an irritated sigh.

"Ah-hmm." The Captain answered back. Taking another drink, he watched the younger man over the rim of his glass. He had an inkling of just what might be bothering the youth.

"Tintin, do you recall the last night before we came home?"

The grey eyes narrowed a bit. "Do you mean the ball? Yes, I remember."

"And what about a certain young lady, do you remember her?"

Scowling a bit, Tintin looked down at his hands and suddenly became absorbed with a non-existent hangnail. "Sorta." He muttered.

"Sorta lad? She had you wrapped up tight the whole evening! Don't tell me you 'sorta' remember her."

"Actually…I don't. I mean I remember her being there, and yes – I do recall being fascinated by her, but…You know, I never even got her name. It's really not her that's bothering me."

"Ah-hmm," Haddock said again. "But, you do admit to being intrigued with her."

The youth sat still and silent for a long time, and the older man was just about ready to give this latest heart to heart a wave goodbye when the boy shifted.

"Yes, she did…intrigue me. But that's just it Captain." Tintin looked over at him, his expression perplexed. "I don't know why she captivated me, or why I'm feeling so odd about it. Trust me when I say, I have no intention of running back there and finding her. It's not 'her' that seems to be the cause of all this…"

Pursing his lips, the Captain decided he needed a wee bit of a drink. As he sat there, a small glimmer of light began to shine.

"Laddie, are you lonely?"

Tintin stared at him and laughed. "Why would I be lonely? I have you and Snowy, the professor is here, and there are all sorts of visitors who arrive. Not all of them welcome…" He added softly, thinking of the last invasion of Jolyon Waggs, not to mention the usual pandemonium whenever Bianca Castafiore descended upon them.

"And yet you feel like you're missing something, right?"

It was Tintin's turn to purse his lips. "Yes. I do. But I have no idea what."

"What I think you're looking for, my boy, is companionship." Seeing the lad start to laugh again, Haddock raised his hand. "I don't mean the usual companionship, I mean the more than just friend's type of companionship, you understand me?"

Seeing the youth's uncomprehending look, Haddock sighed. He also recalled the young girl, and though he was old enough to resist such temptations (after all, there had been other, more beguiling enticements of a liquid kind that had kept hold of him during that evening), he had clearly caught the signals the lass had been throwing out there.

Signal's Tintin had also caught and responded to, but just not recognized them for what they were.

Pure, absolute, make your heart race, mind spin and temperature rise sex appeal.

The girl had it in spades. And knew she had it. Used it like a pro and had reeled in every available red-blooded male that had been there. Probably a few that weren't available. There had been a couple of rather mature gentleman orbiting nearby, their wives giving them the 'stink eye'.

Taking a larger drink, the Captain tried to come up with some sort of plan. He knew Tintin was an adult. The boy had gone through puberty, he was sure of that. He wondered if the lad had ever received 'the talk'? And if so, from whom? But then the lad was quite resourceful and would have found answers to any question.

But would the boy have thought to ask beyond the merely physical?

…