A/N: Obsessed you say? Foolishness! So having fun and not having anything better to do have another chapter! RnR please, means a lot to me. C8

Erik glared at the painting he was finished with. It wasn't that the subject matter made him upset or that the work was not satisfactory but he had discovered another complication with him and art not moments before.

"I want to share something with you." Erik said, grabbing the fawn's hand and led him into Erik's makeshift art studio that had once been an unused study.

Robért smiled and followed along behind Erik, "What is it?"

"I painted something for you." Erik pushed Robért in front of the canvas but then he began to understand.

The fawn put a hand on the dry canvas then looked at Erik, "There's nothing here."

"Yes there is, I-" Erik blinked, how could he explain it? He'd painted something he'd seen from between the bars of a cage, it was a swirl of colors and lights that merged into fantastical creatures with human faces and claws and his heart sank. There was no way to describe it in words, emotions, or even in colors!

Robért blinked sadly at Erik before trying a weak smile, "I'm sure it's fantastic."

Erik now stood alone glaring hatred at the painting, then he did something he hadn't done in a long time; Erik put a fist through the canvas then sat down and cried. He wanted to share paintings with the fawn, but how could he? There was nothing to feel on the flat canvas and how could he describe an emotion or thought? Erik didn't have the words and it angered him, he was supposed to be so intelligent! He made tutors tear their hair out in frustration at his questions and theories and grasp of a concept! His art tutor left in a depression because she could not keep up with his talent! He taught a blind boy about color!

So why was this answer eluding him?

Erik cried in frustration, pulling his mask off and burying his face into his knees, "IT'S NOT FAIR!" He shouted into the material of his trousers.

"Life isn't fair, but what in particular caused this?"

Erik leaped back in surprise when Damien was suddenly standing in front of the canvas, rubbing his chin-hairs and furrowing his brow in concern at the hole in the work. Erik snuffled and pushed his mask back on, trying to settle his breathing but the hiccups wouldn't go away,

"I-I tried to . . . ahem, to show R-Robért." Erik murmured.

"And he hit the painting?" Damien looked incredulously at Erik.

"No! No, I did. After he left." Erik explained quickly, aghast at the thought that Robért would ever be capable of such violence.

Damien moved to sit on the stool by the canvas, clasping his hands and leaning his elbows on his knees, "I see . . . well, and what about that brought such violence on this work of art?"

"Because I . . . I don't know how to tell him about my paintings!" Erik snapped in dismay, a fresh wave of anger and sadness slamming into him.

"No? Now that surprises me," Damien sat back a bit, "You being a clever, clever boy I would think you had already had plans as to how to share art. After all, you taught Robért about colors, I would think there would be an obvious solution."

Erik was torn between wanting to shout at Damien to shut up and leave him be with his riddles and condescending tone but at the same time the man seemed to know something that Erik did not and if there was one thing that Erik found he could not abide by was someone knowing something he didn't.

"What then?" Erik asked, trying very hard to keep his voice level and to not say it through clenched teeth.

"Well, it's simple isn't it? Show him what you were painting." Damien shrugged.

"I tried that." Erik snapped.

"No, Erik, I mean paint something that you can then show Robért." Damien explained in his saint-like, patient way.

Erik blinked several times as it came together.

"Understandably, Robért will not appreciate everything you paint nor should you limit yourself to just painting things that he can. You need to paint what you feel and see, not what will please anyone else, for instance, Robért would not fathom what you painted here, of course before adding the element of your fist through it, because it is all emotion and colors and interpretation. And there is nothing wrong with that." Damien stood up and reached down to help Erik up, smoothing the boy's collar and putting some of his hair behind his ear, "I will say this though, it makes me infinitely happy to see you so distressed over Robért's happiness, not that I enjoy seeing you upset but you have a compassionate and loving nature, Erik and I am glad that you are here for him."

Erik bit his lip and looked down, he did not feel he deserved such praise, he was very violent and was relieved when Robért never told Damien about all the tricks and pranks he played on the boy, even recently when he hid on the fawn and didn't let him know where he was until that afternoon. It was great fun really and he played tricks on everyone so it wasn't just Robért that he picked on. But still . . .

"Thank you, sir." Erik murmured, staring at one of the black buttons on Damien's vest.

Damien smiled and pulled the boy into a hug, startling Erik at first but the boy hesitantly put his arms around the adult and relaxed, "Oh, Erik, you are an enigma, but you are our enigma."


Erik sat in the Solar, the fawn was sulking somewhere because Damien denied him riding lessons, again.

"It makes sense to me." Erik muttered, he knew how to ride even if it was a little scary, but it was nice to sit on the horse and feel its muscles flexing and its chest expanding and compressing with air as it sped through an open field. Erik liked to take Robért with him when he rode sometimes, placing the smaller boy behind him so the fawn could hold onto his back and not disrupt Erik's posting as they practically flew over the grassy hills and forests that surrounded the property.

But Erik had other things to worry about beyond Robért wanting to ride horses, he had tried to find ways to share his paintings with the fawn but landscapes bored him and it was too difficult to try and mold his own work into something he could show Robért. He glanced at the flowers, he'd painted them a dozen times but never to his liking and besides, Robért already knew what they looked like, same with everything in and around the estate, no, Erik wanted to show the fawn new things! He wanted to paint exciting and wonderful things and then show Robért and have the younger boy understand and love it too! But how could he share art with him that was beyond words and even sight?

Quite the puzzler Erik had made for himself.


"It isn't funny."

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't, stop laughing!"

"Don't be a spoilsport, it is so and you know it."

"Erik, stop it!"

"No, Fawn, make me."

Robért swiped his hand about his head as if beating at a cloud of gnats but missed the long piece of grass-stalk he'd plucked and was taunting the fawn with it. He was giggling to himself as he bobbed it about on Robért's ears, nose and neck causing the smaller boy to slap wildly at it but to no avail as Erik was faster and able to pull the new toy back and attack another bit of exposed skin.

"PAPA! ERIK'S BEING IMPOSSIBLE!" Robért squawked as the grass somehow went up his nose.

Erik scowled and crossed his arms, "Tattle-tale!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are t-"

"What is going on in here?" Damien stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyebrow cocked at a disapproving slant.

"Erik won't stop teasing me!" Robért whined, hugging the stuffed horse he'd been playing with up to that point.

"I was just having a bit of fun!" Erik defended, glaring at the fawn, how could he be such a reliable accomplice one moment then a complete baby the next?

"Erik! Stop teasing your brother, I-"

Damien stopped himself and all three were quiet, Erik's mouth dropped open slightly and he stopped hiding the grass-stalk behind his back for a moment, completely forgetting that he was trying to charm his way out of getting sent to his room. The fawn blinked then smiled very big and ran forward (somehow knowing where Damien was, thankfully) and wrapping his arms around his father's waist,

"Oh, Papa, does this mean Erik's staying forever?" He smiled hugely and was bouncing on his heels a bit.

Damien swallowed quickly and looked at the fawn then back at Erik, "That is up to Erik."

"But you called me his brother! That means we have to keep him!" Robért pointed out.

Erik blinked between the two, certainly he'd stopped planning means of escape some time ago, perhaps even after the first few days he'd made the decision to stay but . . . but to be a part of this family? His heart constricted and he wanted to yell that yes, yes, yes he wanted to stay forever and never leave or be turned out, to be a big brother and a son again and that this was all he ever wanted and that he loved them more than he could remember ever loving anything in his life and he felt like he was floating off the floor but he couldn't seem to get the right words out and he felt eyes on him, waiting for him to say something but he was being put on the spot and-

"Please say you will."

Erik looked back up at the fawn, Robért who was standing there, his lip trembling at the silence that had followed and wringing his hands miserably at the possibility that Erik didn't want to stay. And Damien looked no less pleading or anxious and Erik had never felt more wanted in all his life.

"I would like to." He said softly, terrified of breaking the tenuous bonds they had with too loud a voice.

And that was that.


Erik stood staring at the bookshelf, he wanted to read something to the fawn but that little idiot liked nonsensical stories about looking glasses and knights and dragons. Erik could not comprehend such silliness and it irked him. He pulled down a book by Dickens and turned go back to Robért's room where the boy was sitting up in his bed expectantly.

"Here, I like this one so you will too." Erik sat on the edge of the bed, opening to the first page.

"It's Dickens, isn't it?" the fawn groaned and flopped back on the pillows, "Erik, that's so boring."

"It is not!" Erik argued, "Perhaps I should just go to bed then since you find me boring?"

"You're not boring, the stupid book is."

"How did you know it was Dickens, incidentally?" Erik raised an eyebrow.

"I can smell the boring on it." Robért muttered, crossing his arms, "Lewis."

"Fawn, I've read that one cover to cover and it is far more ridiculous than this."

"Lewis, Erik."

"Fawn."

"No."

"Please, not again."

"I won't go to sleep until you read it to me." Robért sat up, glaring at Erik.

"Yes you will," Erik countered, the fawn had already yawned several times and his eyes were heavy.

"No I won't." Robért insisted, "Or better yet, I'll make sure you can't! I'll come into your room and keep you awake all night by bouncing on your bed!"

"You wouldn't." Erik glared at the fawn, he was impossible!

"I would so!"

"Spoilt brat!"

"Know-it-all!"

They were at an impasse then. Erik's glare met Robért's and they sat there with arms crossed until Erik huffed loudly,

"What if . . . what if I sang to you instead?"

The fawn blinked his dull eyes and dropped his arms, tilting his head back a bit, "I didn't know you could sing."

Erik shrugged, "A little."

Robért seemed to consider his options then sighed heavily and nodded, "Alright but it had better be a pretty song."

Erik nodded and quickly started to form the words in his head to go along with the music he always heard when the fawn patted the bed next to him, "What?"

"I'll hear you better if you're closer." Robért shrugged as if that was obvious.

Erik sighed and kicked off his slippers, scooting up to be next to the fawn and then he started his song. It was really a bunch of nonsense about fawns and meadows and birds but it must have been good because soon Robért was curling up against Erik's side and smiling softly,

"I can see it." He whispered when Erik finished, the fawn reached over and took Erik's hand in his, "I can see the meadow . . . and the fawns . . . " He yawned hugely and was soon fast asleep.

Erik had heard all he needed to, he extricated himself from the sleeping boy and went to Father's study, knocking lightly on the door before slipping in.

Damien looked up from his glasses of brandy by the fireplace, he smiled at Erik and gestured for the boy to come more into the room,

"Glad you two worked out your squabbling, I'm rather ensconced here at the fire and was loathe to have to break up another quarrel." He chuckled and sipped his drink, looking over the rim at Erik, "What is it you have to say then, my fine fellow."

Erik fidgeted in his excitement, "I found what I can do."

"Do? In what context, mon petit renard?" Damien smiled, sitting up more in his chair.

Erik blinked at the new petname but he certainly was crafty and clever like a fox . . .

"You said to find a way to show Robért my art and I found it." Erik smiled, moving closer, "Music."

Damien chuckled, "And there you have it, I knew you would find the answer, you are a clever, clever boy, Erik." He reached over and put a hand on Erik's head, gently smoothing the unruly locks.

Erik smiled wider, "Thank you . . . Father."

Damien nodded, "Go on then, off to bed, renard."

Erik nodded and hurried back to his room, eager to beginning with his plans.

A/N: and thus things happen! Really though Erik's more comfortable with the de la Roche's so he does tend to get a little out of hand with his practical jokes (anyone notice that's an oxymoron?) and such but now, music! Let us see how the Fawn and the Fox achieve a middle ground with art! RnR please!