Up in the Grand Hotel penthouse, Wile, leaning against a crutch, stands before the glass wall, watching time pass by slowly. Though he can always sit back and watch television while his injuries heal, his restlessness prevents that luxury. Reflected in the glass, Duane is preparing dinner in the kitchen behind him. Even from this distance, he can smell a curious blend of meat and spices, drawing him to the kitchen island.
Now closer to the action, he witnesses for himself the extent of Duane's culinary skills. On the stovetop, he tends to several components of the meal: macaroni, lentils, beef strips, and seasoned tomato sauce. On the counter beside it, a rice cooker is plugged in and running. Lined up across the countertop space are bottles of vinegar and vegetable oil, along with various spices mixed into a small bowl. Boiling and draining the lentils and pasta, sautéeing the beef, and stirring the sauce, the amount of effort he puts into cooking surpasses anything that Wile could pull off alone. Though it does make him wonder just what the wolf is making.
In due time, everything is prepared. On each plate he sets out, Duane plops a large spoonful of rice, then layers it with macaroni, lentils, and beef, topping it off with the red sauce. He pours a glass of wine and serves it alongside the dish. "Bon appétit!"
Wile takes a bite of the carefully layered dish. Instantly, the inside of his mouth bursts with savory, flavorful goodness. "This is really good! I never thought you could cook this well."
Duane beams with pride. "A simple, but essential task for a guardian such as myself. If I can't provide a proper meal to those in need, I'll never live it down."
"You're oddly concerned about feeding others for someone who can't bother to feed himself."
Duane pouts. "It's not like I dislike food itself. It's just the act of eating that bothers me. But that's none of your business, anyway."
"I think it's every bit my business, as your friend," Wile retorts bluntly. "Don't you think a guardian should live up to their own standards and be a good example for those they're protecting?"
The fur on Duane's tail starts to spike with his rising temper, then slacks with a huff. "Fine! I'll play your little game." He grabs a plate and sits beside Wile. "Don't expect much of an appetite from me, though."
Wile resumes his dinner, speaking between morsels. "You say you're a guardian of some sort, and you know Wyatt and Herman well, so that must mean you're one of them, too. But you don't seem to have any god powers. Unless cooking is your strength, then–"
"For the record, I do have powers," Duane corrects him. "But they're difficult to demonstrate, and you'll lose your lunch if I show you."
The coyote gives a smug look. "Try me."
Looking around, Duane picks up the crutch. "I'll borrow this if you don't mind." Wile, puzzled but intrigued, watches with intent as the events unravel.
Duane closes his eyes, then opens them. His iris and sclera are clouded in swirls of blues and purples, glimmering like a small cosmos. He raises the crutch above his head, and his jaw snaps wide, unhinging to an unnatural degree. Duane proceeds to lower the crutch into his mouth. To the coyote's bafflement, there does not appear to be any distension in his throat or stomach, the object instead distorting in shape as it disappears down his gullet. Once the crutch is swallowed entirely, Duane's jaw snaps shut and he gulps loudly, reverting back to normal.
Suddenly, Duane starts retching, his stomach heaving as he tries to hold it back. He rushes over to the bathroom and slams the door shut. Once the worst has passed, he returns and slumps over the table.
Wile, stupefied by what he just saw, passes the glass to him. "What the hell was that?"
"My curse," Duane answered groggily. "For the record, your crutch is safe with me. I'll return it when I recover."
His brows wrinkle in disgust. "That's the least of my issues right now. Frankly, there's a lot I could ask, but I don't know where to begin." He starts racking his brain with his limited knowledge of the Egyptian pantheon, but nothing seems to match Duane's description. Just how many canine gods are there?
Sitting up straight, he smiles reassuringly. "Well, you don't need to worry about me. Me and the boss have dealt with this curse for several millennia now, I can put up with a bit more suffering."
He eyes Duane up and down. "Where does it all go, anyway? Surely not your actual stomach…"
"My stomach and esophagus are connected to a pocket dimension that can store anything with no limits to size or quantity. As you noticed, anytime I open the portal, it takes a lot out of me, and my jaw and throat hurt like hell right after. To put it roughly, it's like having an invisible second stomach, but for non-edibles." He glances at the coyote's confused look. "Before you ask, I've gotten a lot better at controlling it, just enough to prevent food from going down the wrong hole and vice-versa. Anyways, I won't interrupt your meal any longer, so I'll just be on my w–"
A forkful of sauce-laden beef and lentils is jabbed into Duane's mouth before he can speak further. Smiling deviously, Wile teases, "Ah-ah-ah! Can't let your hard work go to waste, can I?"
Glaring, Duane eats the morsel. "Tsk! If it'll make you stop pestering me. Lemme pour you another glass first."
The two spend the next hour chatting over dinner, laughing along drunkenly to terrible jokes and sharing silly anecdotes. After the dishes are cleaned out and put in the dishwasher, Duane assists Wile to the bedroom for a moment of respite.
As they plop down on the king-sized bed together, Duane stares up at the ceiling with nostalgic longing. "Y'know, when I saw Ralph doting on you earlier, it reminded me of someone I knew long ago. The exact date escapes me, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Me and Wyatt were in Japan for an expedition when we stumbled across an old shrine. This particular shrine was dedicated to a holy spirit of agriculture and prosperity and run entirely by Sapient foxes. That's where I met the love of my life."
Wile chuckles. "She must be special if she has you feeling all gushy."
"Damn straight she is!" he bursts with excitement. "Soft fur as white as snow, curves in all the right places…" With his hands, he traces the outline of a feminine figure, though his motions suggest one more full-figured than the conventional norm. "…and she had nine fluffy tails that trailed behind her like a beautiful gown."
Wile's eyes widen. "Did you say nine tails?"
"Yes. But that's the least important part. Her name was Inari, and she was an immortal Sapient like us. We hit it off instantly, with both of us being gods who prevented hunger and famine. She pampered me and offered me tea and rice–stuff that was nourishing and easy to stomach, basically. She was real stubborn about it, too, but I let it slide cus she's cute."
"So if I was a cute girl, you wouldn't be resisting so much?" Wile snarks.
"Yeah… I mean no! Quit derailing!" He huffs and resumes. "Anyways, during our time at the shrine, we had the time of our lives. By day, we would talk over meals and take walks around the nearby woods. By night, we'd get drunk on sake and have hot, steamy sex. Ol' Weps complained to us about the noise, but it was well worth it."
Something in Wile starts to burn up. He was vaguely aware of the concept of sex, particularly from conversations and media consumption, but he never considered the possibility of partaking in it. Could Ralph be the one to…
"By the way, are you a virgin?"
Struck by the sudden question, he fumbles to regain his speech, but fails.
"No need to feel embarrassed, kid," Duane says in reassurance. "Whether you feel a need to have sex or not, the most important thing is that you love your mate through thick and thin. So lemme ask you seriously: do you love Ralph?"
With a question as straightforward and loaded as that, Wile has to stop and think. They only knew each other for a few months at best, yet his instincts tell him that Ralph is special, that he wants to spend the rest of his life happily with him. The more he mulls over the question, the more the passion inside him burns.
"I do… I do love him! I want to protect Ralph the same way he protects me. I want to go to sleep every night knowing that he's safe and sound. I want to stay by his side, to make him happy through any means possible." He shoots straight up. "I would go through Hell and back for him! I would–URK!" In his excitement, he strains his body yet again, causing him to recoil back onto the bed.
Amused by the coyote's passionate response, Duane pats him on the head. "Easy there. I appreciate your eagerness, but if you keep pushing yourself, you won't be able to protect anyone."
"I'll be fine," Wile says gruffly. "I've been through worse. Besides, I heal fast." He blinks and falls into slumber, whispering, "Wherever he is right now, I hope he's safe."
Later that evening, Wyatt enters the penthouse, greeted by tranquil silence. Without a sound, he patrols the area. He passes by the kitchen island into the kitchen, where a plate of canid-friendly kushari sits waiting for him. He notices a bottle of red wine, already opened and half-empty. Damn, he had to use up the good stuff, he curses under his breath. Still wondering where his flatmates are, he continues his search.
Checking the living room and dining area off the list, he makes way for the bedroom. He stops short of entering, noticing the door is open ajar. Carefully, he opens the door a bit more and pokes his head through. There they are, sleeping peacefully on the bed. Wile is lying on his side, with Duane curled up beside his abdomen. Wyatt smiles at the wholesome scene, then closes the door.
He kicks back on the couch and watches the night sky from the windows, left alone with his thoughts. Duamutef's got a ways to go, but he's becoming more like his old self these days. If you were here now, would you be proud of our "son"… Set?
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Hey, y'all! First chapter of the month on the first day of March. Is this serendipity at its finest, or just a funny coincidence? Considering how I've been rather productive today, I'm inclined towards the former.
The first draft of this chapter was originally planned to be sandwiched between two other parts, as a short "meanwhile" scene, but it started to run a bit too long and I didn't want it to take away from the action of the main plot of the chapter, so I cut all the parts I've done for it, set it aside in a separate draft for safekeeping, and then copied and edited the draft into what you've just read. The nature of the editing process is why the story here might seem a bit disconnected from what was set up in the previous chapter, like a filler episode in an anime series. Despite the filler-esque vibe, I decided to put it in anyway. With how the story's been progressing and what I have planned for the next chapter, I think my readers could benefit from some more lighthearted affair.
Some extra stuff from the writing process that also doubles as the now-traditional worldbuilding/character trivia segment: there was more to Duane's exposition regarding his abilities and of the Egyptian Sapients' powers in general. But along with being a tad dragged out, some of the dialogue felt a bit clunky or out-of-place with everything else. Other things that had been edited: changing the mealtime from breakfast to dinner (to better align with the current timeline and upcoming chapter); changing the item Duane "ate" from a fork to Wile's crutch (to better demonstrate the nature of his powers); changed the food from Japanese-inspired to (modern) Egyptian-inspired; relocated the place of the initial conversation from the living room area to the kitchen island; other general expansions and adjustments on the narrative prose.
I think I'm done with rambling for now. I'll see you all in the next chapter! ;)
