Author's Note: Hi everyone! Thanks for the great response to these stories. Before I say anything else, I know you've all noticed that this is not "Pipeworks" lol. I did warn you that these stories would be out of order. I couldn't in good conscience post that story which could give you an idea of the actual timeline :P. Actually, I haven't written it yet, but I had this one ready to go, lol. I hope you enjoy it! It's more fluffy than it is funny, but I think it's cute :).
Night Wandering
"Stupid mutt!"
Allen stumbled as Migs ran through his legs. The shaggy monster puppy had all the room in the world to go around Allen, but did he ever choose to use it? Only when there was something expensive to destroy. That way Allen couldn't grab him by that nub of a tail and sling him in the opposite direction. Allen's muscle tone was improving as a result of wrestling with Migs.
Instead of whirling around and planting his paws on Allen's crotch like he usually did, Migs paid Allen no mind and scampered off toward the parlor. Good riddance. Allen was going to the kitchen for his occasional midnight snack, and he hated opening the ice box with Migs around. The last time Migs had made off with the steaks Allen had been marinating for dinner one night. Dilandau had laughed himself silly, and actually opened the door to help Hellhound escape. He wouldn't have thought it was so funny if it had been his dinner.
The wooden planks of the kitchen floor were cold beneath Allen's bare feet. His toes curled under with each step, and he shivered. He should have pulled on some socks, but his stomach didn't have the patience to wait for him to find some. Celena kept telling Allen all these midnight meals were going to make him fat. Allen kept telling her that he'd never had a midnight meal until she'd returned, so it must be nervous eating. Her bad manners were driving him to premature obesity. Perhaps if she wore a few dresses, he would stop. Celena said she would make sure the tailors in town knew to let his pants out a few sizes.
Brat.
He pulled open the heavy door to the ice box and extracted some leftover ham from dinner from a covered dish on the top shelf. He was surprised to see it. Celena usually came down minutes before midnight and helped herself to large sandwiches, eating all the meat and leaving Allen with Dilandau's fruit and whole grains. Allen didn't mind the fruit, but he'd sooner feed the whole grain to Migs. Heavens knew he never fed that dog anything willingly. Feeding creatures encouraged them to stay. Celena was a perfect example of that. He would never be rid of her.
Allen made a thick sandwich and poured himself a tall glass of milk. This should last him until breakfast. He left the kitchen, going in the direction of the parlor. He liked to eat in there when he was alone. He opened the windows sometimes, if it wasn't too cool and the mosquitos weren't too bad, and enjoyed the sweet scent of Mother's roses on the wind and his view of the Mystic Moon. Sometimes, he thought about Hitomi, the little girl he thought he'd loved. What kind of stories did she tell people about him? She'd casually forgotten to say goodbye to him when she'd left. Though, Dilandau let it be known that she'd made it a point to bid him farewell, and wish him luck with Van.
She hadn't even liked Dilandau, and she'd been in a relationship with Allen! She shouldn't have had hard feelings against Allen. She had dumped him.
No matter how long ago it was, it still stung. Allen Schezar– dumped by a teenage girl. How humiliating.
Allen stopped just outside the small archway that led into the parlor, leaning on the frame as he spied Dilandau sitting on the floor with Migs sprawled at his side. Dilandau seemed to almost absently stroke the fur between the dog's eyes, and Mig's stumpy tail wagged slowly. They looked peaceful, and Allen felt like an intruder. He quietly tiptoed away, taking his snack up to his room.
"Did you get any sleep last night?" Allen frowned at Dilandau. The boy had bags under his eyes and his frequent yawning was causing Allen to yawn too. They rode side by side on tall, chocolate mares, bobbing almost in synch with each other in leather saddles.
"Some," Dilandau said, smothering another yawn with a fist. "Why?"
"You seem tired," Allen said, raising a brow, And off your game. "Is something bothering you?"
"Dryden's early morning council meetings," Dilandau groused. "Tell me again how I ended up having to attend council meetings? They hate me."
Allen chuckled. "That's why. You never agree with what they say, and Dryden likes to hear differing opinions."
"He never sides with me," Dilandau grumbled. "And 2 times out of 5, I'm asked to leave or be tried for treason."
Allen laughed outright. "They never threatened to try you for treason, just to toss you in the dungeon with the men on trial for treason."
Dilandau gave Allen a hooded glance. "I can spook your horse into throwing you, you know?"
Allen held up his hands in amused surrender. "You are aware that all those men in there think you're brilliant. They'd never actually follow through on any threats they make. You just…have a way of expressing yourself that makes people angry. Once they cool down, they do consider your ideas."
"Hm." Dilandau yawned again.
"Maybe you should pass on today's meeting and take a nap. Dryden can talk to you privately later," Allen suggested. It wouldn't do to have Dilandau nodding off in council meetings. Those men watched him like a hawk, and would go in for the kill. Then Dilandau would counterattack, Dryden would nearly suffocate trying not to laugh, and Allen would have a mess to clean up.
Children. Children and puppies. Couldn't live with them; couldn't eat them. At least not in this country.
"Maybe."
Allen blinked. Dilandau was thinking about his suggestion? Could he possibly have forgotten it was Allen he was talking to? Maybe they should turn around and go home.
"Are you all right?"
Dilandau didn't answer right away, and Allen frowned and removed a riding glove. He brought his horse close enough to Dilandau to touch one of his cheeks.
Cool.
Dilandau blinked at him. "I'm not sick."
"No, you're not. So, tell me what's wrong. I'd like to help if I can," Allen said.
"Well, first, back off a little. You're scaring the shit out of my horse," Dilandau said with a smirk.
Allen rolled his eyes and complied only because he was about to move away anyway. It was dangerous to ride so close. They rode for a few more minutes, Dilandau looking straight ahead like he hadn't seemed to agree to tell Allen anything.
"Well?" Allen asked.
"Well, what?"
Allen hated teenagers. All of them were out to get him. They dumped him; they mocked him; they irritated him… they worried him.
"I saw you up last night."
Dilandau frowned. "Meaning you were up pretty late yourself. Should I ask you what's wrong? Oh wait, I forgot you get up in the night to raid the ice box. Pig."
Allen sniffed. Pig was what he'd eaten, not what he was. Though, hadn't Hitomi said something like: you are what you eat? Blah, teenagers mocking him again, even when they weren't present.
"Dilandau…." Allen waited until Dilandau looked over at him. His red eyes were dark, tainted with sadness. "Are you having nightmares again?"
The nightmares. Allen hadn't been prepared for them and had thanked the gods for Celena, rare as that was, who was prepared for Dilandau's midnight shrieks. They'd crashed into Dilandau's room, armed for combat, to find him battling pillows and blankets and drenched in sweat. Celena had dropped her sword and climbed onto the bed, tackling Dilandau like an enemy. Allen screamed at her, but quickly realized that she was right to be so rough. Dilandau fought her like a demon as she tried to pin him down. Allen had to help her. It had taken them five minutes to wake Dilandau, and another five to convince him that he was not in a Zaibach lab, the Madoushi were gone, and yes, all but 6 of his Slayers were dead.
The nightmares had started a week after Dilandau and Celena had moved into Schezar manor, and had stopped after a month. Or maybe they hadn't.
"No, not really," Dilandau said almost absently.
"And what does 'not really' mean?"
"They're not nightmares, just dreams that…I'd rather not have," Dilandau said with a shrug. "Do you ever… think about people who've died, just think about strange things that they used to do that got your attention?"
"Yes," Allen said. "I usually enjoy thoughts like those. What bothers you about yours?"
Dilandau sighed. "I don't know if I'm just thinking about them, or if I'm remembering something that I've forgotten. I think I'm getting my memory back, all of it, bit by bit, and some of the bits I don't like. They aren't nightmare worthy, but a lot of them aren't pleasant."
Allen tilted his head to study Dilandau. He didn't look troubled, but Dilandau was good at controlling his facial expressions when he wanted to. He never stopped himself from laughing at Allen's expense.
"They keep you up?"
Dilandau shrugged. "So many things happened back then, Allen. It scares me to know that there's more. That what I'm getting so far is just the tip of the iceberg. Makes me want to go into that council meeting and shout: To hell with peace. Let's go Madoushi hunting. Celena would like that."
She would. It scared Allen how much he knew she would, and it scared Allen more that Dilandau might be right behind her. Celena wouldn't go off on her own, but the two of them could disappear one day—like they had back then.
"Do you really want to start another campaign, Dilandau?" Allen asked.
"I'm bored, Allen. I wouldn't mind if someone from here blew a whole in the Mystic Moon and incited a war of the worlds. I need something to do."
Allen nodded. He could relate. Sometimes soldiers needed action, but they didn't necessarily want a disaster to bring it about, especially only a few months after a major war.
"I was thinking about visiting Fanelia. I miss Van and Folken, and even Marie and Pearce. They've been almost too busy to keep in touch."
Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, Allen thought. The less contact Dilandau had with Van the better the chances of Allen setting him up with a girl from Court. Any of them would stomp another to get to Dilandau first, if they thought he was even mildly interested. Allen would be sure to spread the rumor that he was.
"Maybe we all can go," Allen said. He'd be damned if Dilandau slept anywhere near Van unsupervised by someone responsible. Folken would probably let them run wild, and gods knew that woman doctor wouldn't care. She'd encourage it. And Pearce… Allen shuddered… would be Pearce.
"Give it a rest, Allen. You were willing to accept Van liking me before you knew I was your brother; you even helped him. Stop being a hypocrite."
"I'm not being a hypocrite; I just want you to keep your options open and I don't want you going too far with anyone too soon."
"Define going too far?"
Allen groaned. Dilandau was either being very annoying or disturbingly innocent with that question, and Allen didn't think he wanted to know which it was. "What are we going to do about getting you to sleep at night, Dilan?"
"I won't drink warm milk."
"You won't drink milk period," Allen grumbled. "Maybe a tea. We can ask Millerna about it after the meeting, or I can if you're busy."
"I have to evaluate Gatty's team today. They might be the first of the cadets to get their marching orders," Dilandau said, a note of pride in his voice. "We've been talking about maybe… taking some of them and making them Slayers. It would be nice to have a full team again, but it'll be hard to replace who we've lost. I don't know that any of the cadets could pass our tests. We'll see how much better they get."
"That would be a big step for you and your friends," Allen said. The Slayers seemed to be over the deaths of their comrades, but there were times, when things got quiet, that any one of them could be caught staring off into space seeming sullen and melancholy.
Dilandau yawned. "Maybe."
Allen yawned in response. "I'll talk to Millerna myself then."
"Try not to catch her indecent; Dryden won't appreciate it."
"Brat."
Allen paid special attention to Dilandau as he prepared for bed. The boy had laid out on his stomach on a rug in the middle of the den with a sketchbook and a set of colored pencils. After nodding off several times, he peeled himself off the floor and grunted that he was going to bed. Allen, who was reading on the window seat, had nodded and offered to brew the anise seeds Millerna had recommended that morning. Dilandau's response had been unintelligible, but Allen brewed a pot anyway.
The clay mug was hot and Allen changed hands as he went up the stairs, careful not to spill any tea on himself or the rug lining the stairs. He heard the jingle of Migs' tags and the thudding of the mutt's clubbed feet bounding up the stairs behind him. Allen turned sideways and pressed himself against the railing to let Migs pass. Migs glanced at him and gave a happy "Rowf!" as greeting, before running past him.
Celena must have come in through the window this time. One good thing about that dog was it knew when "Mama" came home, and all the noise he made let Allen know when "Mama" was home too. Celena had retired to her room early that evening, sulking about not being about to go to a wrestling match near the creek. Only boys attended those matches, and Allen didn't want his sister challenging anyone and getting caught by decent people rolling about in the mud with boys. They'd think Allen was raising a "loose woman".
Dilandau had seemed quite interested in looking out the window that night and had hogged the window seat for 30 minutes, before letting Allen have it. Tolerable Brat had probably watched his sister sneak across the yard.
Allen neared Dilandau's door and knocked.
The door opened a second later, and a groggy Dilandau glared back at him, running a hand through his hair. "What?"
"Tea." Allen held out the mug.
"You put sugar in this?"
"No, Majesty, I did not," Allen said, rolling his eyes. "Millerna says to drink this and take a warm bath, not a shower."
"Hn." Dilandau took the tea and closed the door in Allen's face.
Allen shook his head. That was gratitude for him. He went to Celena's door next, not bothering to knock. He threw the door open and glared at his muddy sister who was quietly trying to pull herself the rest of the way in the window. Big blue eyes rested on him, and she gave her best innocent grin, which wasn't convincing when she wasn't covered in mud.
Migs trotted around the room, tail wagging.
"Damn mutt!" Celena pulled herself the rest of the way in and glared at Migs who came to lick her palms. "Next time, I take you with me."
"Next time?" Allen raised his brows. "There will be no next time. You know that little Fall Cotilion the Ladies of Astoria is hosting that I told you, you didn't have to attend though they were nice enough to invite you? You're going. Your escort will be me, and you will wear a dress, proper shoes, and an up-sweep hairdo."
Celena's face was pale with horror. "Len, you can't be serious. Len! I didn't do anything THAT bad! It's just a little mud! I didn't even win! Look, my pockets are empty. I lost all my money. Can't that be punishment?"
"It would be if those were your pockets! Those are my pants!" Allen ran both hands through his hair. He was so angry he didn't know if he would be able to get to sleep that night.
Celena at least had the decency to look ashamed. "I thought they looked funny. I should have known all that extra money couldn't have been mine."
Allen growled. "I'll have Lady Deirdre make your dress with extra ruffles and a clutch purse to match."
Allen slammed the door on Celena's wail. That would keep her from going to anymore mud matches in Allen's pants. He headed to his own room, only pausing at the sound of running bath water. He smiled.
At five after midnight, Allen tiptoed down the stairs into the kitchen. Tags jingled from somewhere nearby. Dammit. No matter how quiet he was, he always managed to wake the dog. Migs, once again, went through his legs and scurried into the parlor. Allen sighed, following.
Dilandau sat in the rocking chair this time, staring at the ceiling. Migs jumped up, planting his paws in Dilandau's lap. Dilandau spared the dog a glance, pushing it down and sliding onto the floor with it.
"It didn't work."
Allen blinked. He hadn't announced his presence yet, and Dilandau wasn't looking in his direction. "So I see."
Allen came to sit beside Dilandau on the floor. "Did you sleep any?"
Migs rolled onto his back, so Dilandau could scratch his belly. "An hour maybe."
"Do you want to talk about your dream?"
"Not much to talk about," Dilandau said.
"Rowf!"
"I'm not doing this all night, Mutt." Dilandau gave Migs a push and the dog rolled onto his stomach.
"I don't see why you pet him at all. It makes him want to..."
"Face it Len, the dog's here to stay. Might as well make friends with it," Dilandau said.
Allen scowled at Migs who decided at that moment to lick his privates. "I refuse to concede."
Dilandau chuckled, then yawned.
"Maybe you should try bed again," Allen said.
"I'd either fall asleep and be awake again in 30 minutes, or I'd be staring at the ceiling. So, as I see it, there's no point in moving. The view's good here. Garden's nice at night."
Dilandau's head dipped onto Allen's shoulder. "I'm so tired I'm looking at damn flowers, Len. Do something."
Allen laughed lightly. "Come on, let's get up on the couch. I want to try something."
Dilandau pouted. "I told you I don't want to move."
"I'm sure you can manage a few feet." Allen got to his feet and pulled his brother up after him. Dilandau glared at Allen, but didn't fight as Allen dragged him over to the long couch near the fireplace. A large portrait of their great-grandparents glared down at them, and Allen snorted. Dilandau's glare had nothing on Great-Grandma Eileen's.
Dilandau flopped down on one end of the light blue couch and pulled an embroidered pillow onto his lap. Allen sat down on the other end. He patted his empty lap with a hand and gestured for Dilandau to lie down.
"You gotta be kidding me." Dilandau made to stand up again, but Allen reached out and grabbed one of his arms.
"Just give it a few minutes. Come on, no one's looking but Migs'."
Dilandau groaned, then sighed, shoulders slumping. "Talk about this and die."
Allen smiled as Dilandau stretched his lanky body out over the couch and rested his head on Allen's thigh. "Lie on your back," Allen said. Dilandau shifted to get comfortable on his back.
"What now?" Dilandau asked.
"Close your eyes and count backwards from a large number."
"I don't want to..."
"Do it."
"892..."
"In your head."
"Picky," Dilandau grumbled.
"Breathe deep and easy."
Dilandau grunted, but Allen noted the changes in his breathing. Allen rested a hand on Dilandau's stomach, rubbing the flat surface in slow soothing patterns. Dilandau sighed.
"Just relax, concentrate on your counting, your breathing... relax."
Dilandau's lashes fluttered. "Dreamed about my first Alseid flight."
"You did?"
"Mmm... it was fun."
"I'll bet."
"Never got to have much fun. The only reason why I got to have it then was because it was work. I was scared they wouldn't let me do it anymore, if they found out how much I liked it. So, I tried to act like I hated it at first."
"Shh, Dilandau."
"They let me fly everyday. I'm a natural, you know? They never let me fly by myself. They didn't trust me not to run away, I guess."
Dilandau's words were slurring.
"I like training pilots. I like being around other people who like to fly. They go places; we go places."
Allen smiled. "You fly high."
"Hmm... never wanna land."
"Then don't."
No response.
"Dilandau?"
Nothing.
Allen smirked and continuing to rub Dilandau's belly. He'd stay there all night to make sure Dilandau slept through it. Allen studied his brother's pale face; exhaustion made fine lines and shadows on the smooth planes of his face. Dilandau wouldn't tell Allen exactly how long he'd gone without sleep, but Allen could tell it'd been more than a few nights.
Maybe it was a price of constant flight, and if Dilandau had no plans for landing, someone needed to be around to refuel him in the air.
The sun rose, and Allen woke with a crick in his neck. He'd fallen asleep sitting up; his head had fallen forward, his hair in his eyes. He rolled his neck and gazed down at the weight in his lap that had numbed his thigh. Dilandau still lie there, flat on his back and fast asleep.
They probably had another meeting that morning, and Dilandau probably had more work to do after it, but Allen wouldn't wake him for the world.
Teenagers: annoying, frustrating, mocking, messy, insane, worrisome... and adorable when they slept.
Author's Note: :) See, told ya more fluffy than funny, but I hope you got a smile out of it. Well... what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Anyway, let me know. Please review.
