"Woo-hoo!" Francis shouted as he twirled a laughing Clara around in their living room. "And just like that, doll, we are twenty thousand dollars richer!"
Clara spun around with Francis once her feet touched the ground, their own little private waltz in which the music played on in their heads. "I can't believe it!" She gasped breathlessly with excitement, "Twenty thousand! We can relax! We can done for the winter! Oh, this is magnificent, Francis!"
It had taken quite a while - three months to be exactly - to plan out for every detail of their latest, most successful plot. In a human city, they had managed to make out with a few precious watches, jewelry, and plans from a visiting politician to a boozy, sophisticated, uppity 'playpen' - i.e., a brothel. It had been amazingly smooth, Clara and Francis playing the parts of waiters and those cleaning discreetly. All it took was one of the girls to take the politicians and get them drunk to get some loose lips and valuable information to sell.
And here they were, twenty thousand dollars richer!
"Yes, Happy Christmas to us!" He declared as he poured them both more champagne from an expensive bottle. "Of course, anything we do for the next few months will be for fun, not for survival. Oh, to be able to enjoy ourselves at last!"
The pair cheered and took a drink. Clara plopped onto the couch and put her feet up on the table. Normally Francis would swat her legs away, not wanting damage to the coffee table, but this time, so delighted was he that he joined her in that stance. "I say, let's get us a hot tub! Or a pool!"
Clara laughed in between another drink. "In the Middle of Nowhere? Come on, now, the sun would drink up any sort of water we buy! A waste of money. That's exactly why we can't keep grass growing around here except in small patches. Too damn hot!"
"We'll put up a canopy above the pool and the hot tub to keep the water in there!" Francis proposed.
Clara snorted. "So now there's an 'and'?" She stuck her tongue out at him and he mirrored her. "Maybe...a hot tub does sound nice now that the nights are getting colder." And if she let herself fantasize for a moment, she did find a certain...appeal to it.
"Mmm, it would relax you." Francis continued. "Picture it: it's snowing all around us, piles of it, while we sit in that hot tub with a cup of Bailey's and a hint of hot cocoa. Warm, steamy...enjoying the fruits of our labor."
Clara turned to look at him, her close friend, her only real friend, and frowned. "You forgot the marshmallows."
Francis laughed and threw his arm around her, hugging her tightly. "So I did! How foolish of me! What would I do without you, Clara?"
She smiled and laughed as well, feeling a surge of warmth within her at the hug. "You'd be dreadfully bored, that's for sure." She teased. "You wouldn't have anyone to scheme with so you'd probably be pulling some really dull schemes."
Francis nearly choked on his drink as he laughed. "Oh, so you're saying you're the brains?!" He hugged her tighter, keeping her close. Their noses nearly touched. There was a pause and before Clara could remark, the man's hazel eyes softened. "You are, you know." He agreed, the teasing no longer there.
Clara inhaled deeply. The pair had flirted before, had teased, and maybe even had gotten lonely a time or two. But...it was never beyond that. And this? This felt dangerously close to...to something more. Clara had to break it before it happened. "If I am, it's only because you're the sharpest pair of eyes to have around here." She turned away and polished off her drink before standing. "Shall we go out for a night on the town?"
If Francis felt resentment or hesitation, he didn't show it. True to his form, he recovered quickly and mirrored her, adding more of a bounce to his step. "Absolutely! Go get your prettiest gown on and I'll meet you up front."
It was safer this way, Clara thought as she made her way upstairs. It was less messy this way. She needed a partner in crime, nothing else. Francis knew that and anything else...well, it had been the intoxication of the success and champagne talking.
Yes, that was it.
The pair of friends had gone out nearly every night for the past week. Like before, they never went to the same place twice. They traveled from city to city, even donning the usual disguises - cats, dogs, foxes, ducks, rabbits. It was best to keep their identities as discreet as possible. It was fun...more than fun, it was fantastic.
By the weekend, however, Clara asked if they could stay in. "I think I've got up a dress size with all that fancy food and drink." She half-joked.
Francis snorted softly. "Hell, you and me both." Clara snickered. "In any case...think our neighbors are coming for a visit."
"Oh yeah?" Clara found herself actually excited for that. "It's been a while since we played 'normal'. What should I cook?"
"Everything except dessert," he said as Clara got up from the couch to go to the kitchen, "I told Muriel to bring her famous Happy Plums."
Clara made a noise of anticipation. "That is something money can't buy. I can't wait to sink my teeth into those." She started to go through her freezer. "How about some stuffed chicken, green beans, and wheat rolls?"
"Sounds great, Clarie. I'll make the iced tea." Francis contributed, using her nickname. And just like that, it felt like a slice of life, of normality.
As strange as it was, Clara and Francis had neighbors in the near-middle of Nowhere. Well, it wasn't like the typical city-neighbors, but it was country-neighbors. Muriel, Eustace, and Courage Bagge all lived in the middle of Nowhere. Clara and Francis lived about seven miles from them, but they were, of all luck, the closest 'neighbors' either could get. No one else lived nearby for a couple dozen miles. Even the cities were a good thirty or so miles away of nothing in-between. Muriel and Eustace were an elderly human couple who had adopted a dog-human, Courage, when he was a child. They were all fairly kind and nice.
Courage, who was about the age of Clara, was exceedingly timid. She suspected that was why he stayed with the Bagge couple even though he was old enough to get a job and move out. Oh, to have that sort of support, Clara thought.
Eustace was a grumpy old man, but he and Francis, who had honed his skills to be a social chameleon, got along well enough. Often talks of sports, money, and other 'manly' hobbies took up their time.
Muriel was the typical sweet old grandmotherly type. At first, Clara had been suspicious of it. Surely no one was really so kind-hearted and endearing! And yet...the more times they visited one another, the more Clara began to believe that Muriel, and Courage by proxy, were the exception to the rule. Muriel was everything Clara never had growing up, and she cherished their visits all the more.
To hear they were coming to dinner made Clara happy. It was a different sort of happiness, not the sort of pulling off a scheme, but the like of contentment and ease. So she spent the afternoon cooking, hearing the television Francis had on as background noise on and off.
Before she knew it, it was dinnertime.
Knock, knock, knock.
Clara looked up as she tossed the rolls in the oven. Dinner would be ready in ten minutes - how perfect. Francis called out that he would get the door. The Bagge family was perhaps the only family that Francis and Clara could afford to be as close to 'themselves' as they could be with anyone. They did not wear disguises, but they also didn't explain everything they did. So when she heard Muriel and Courage come into the kitchen - clearly it was 'men time' in the living room, as per normal - Clara reflected quietly that she felt no anxiety in being herself in physical form, or personality...to a degree. That level of comfortability spoke highly, more so than these two would ever know of their relationship.
"Courage, Muriel! Welcome!" She hugged the old lady, enjoying the hold, before she turned to Courage. Ever anxious, Courage shyly offered a hug, to which Clara made it a point to crush his bones in the greeting. "You're both looking good!" She reached up and lightly ran her fingertips over Courage's velvety dog ears. "Feel like you've grown, pup." She teased him.
Courage was, and always had been, about two inches shorter than her. She couldn't help but jab at him, all in good fun. His ears flattened, then twitched. "Have I?" His voice was light, cracked, and warm.
Clara poked at his stomach. "Well, in one way rather than the other." She winked. "But with access to the Great Chief Muriel, I can't blame you!" She took the bowl of Happy Plums from Muriel and put them in the fridge.
"You're looking well yourself, Clara, dear." Muriel chuckled softly. "You look positively glowing!" To anyone else, one may have asked if there was some great news; however, Muriel was Muriel, good-natured and thinking the best of everyone. There was no second thought in her mind, but just that observation. It was why Clara could relax near them, largely speaking.
"Thank you," she nodded. "Care for some iced tea? Francis just made it."
"Oh please, yes, if it isn't too much trouble, dearie."
"Please, have a seat in the living room and I'll bring it to you. Dinner will be ready in ten." Once Muriel wandered off, Clara glanced at Courage. He was sniffing the air, the aromas of dinner intoxicating. "How's it been going, Courage?"
As Clara picked up the pitcher and poured into five glasses, Courage leaned against the counter on his elbow. "It's okay. I started another story. Three chapters in."
Clara's blue eyes flickered up and she smiled, mindful not to spill any drink. "Oh really?! That's great. What's this one about?" Courage sold short stories in order to make ends meet at the farm. Chickens and gardens were great, but there were still things that certain trade couldn't barter for.
Courage ran a hand through his lavender hair, wincing when it caught a tangle. "It's about a cursed tablet taken from Egypt and how the archeologist tries to survive each plague. I haven't decided yet how it ends."
"Sounds suspenseful," Clara agreed as she handed him his tea, "I can't wait to read it. Let me know if you need some opinions early on."
"I will! I might write a couple different endings if you want to read them all. And Francis too." Courage offered shyly before taking a drink. He and Francis got along well too, though Courage definitely gravitated towards Clara.
"Absolutely, my friend. Come on, let's go join the others. Dinner is almost done, but we can take a seat for a bit."
After dinner, everyone had a cup of Happy Plums, even Eustace, and a cup of decaf coffee. Clara made a cup of tea just for Muriel. It was all very nice and lovely, a night to remember in terms of simple pleasures, which could and were often the best sort. Not that Clara would ever admit that out loud, for that suggested then that she lacked the simple pleasures up until she met the Bagge family. It wasn't wrong, she just didn't want to acknowledge it.
Francis offered to wash the dishes and Courage joined him. As the two were at the sink, hearing Eustace snoring and the women chatting softly from the living room, Francis looked up at Courage, who was drying.
"So," he started, "find anyone special, pup?" 'Pup' was a nickname both Francis and Clara used with Courage. He wasn't younger than them, not by much if at all, but in terms of worldly experience? He was a pup.
Courage's soft purple eyes flickered up to the chestnut haired man and blinked, taking hold of a freshly clean mug to dry. "What do you mean?"
"You know," Francis did a wiggle of sorts with his shoulders, "someone special." He knew Courage had finally understood by the way he turned as red as a strawberry. Francis chuckled and shook his head. "So you have!"
"N-no! I haven't, no!" In his distress, the mug Courage held knocked against the sink. It didn't break, but the noise made him jump further.
Francis decidedly put away some of his mirth. "Calm down, calm down boy...I'm just teasing you. Come on now, take a deep breath or else Clara will have my head - and nevermind what Muriel would do."
Taking his advice, the purple haired boy took three large deep breaths before he had calmed down and returned to his natural color. He finished wiping down the mug and put it away before picking up another. "...I haven't," he said at last, "though I...did join a..website." And there was that pink hue in his cheeks once more.
"Attaboy!" Francis would have clapped his shoulder, but given the size of the boy, as well as his own sudsy hands, he knew it wouldn't be wise. "That's how you do it, take one step forward at a time." He nodded sagely. "First the website, then messages, then meetings." He paused as he placed a wet, clean plate on the other side of the sink for Courage. "Er...be sure you let me or Clarie know about the meeting before you go, okay?" If he knew people, he knew not to trust them. Courage was a kind guy and Francis didn't want him taken advantage of.
Courage slowed his drying down, glancing up at Francis hesitantly. "And...you?" That was a social conversation, wasn't it? The back and forth?
"Me what?" Francis scrubbed hard at a spot on the plate he held. Damn, he needed to get a new sponge, or at least one of those wooly brillo pads.
"Have you found someone special?"
The way that Courage had asked, such a shy but perceptive way, made Francis stop his movements. He didn't look at him, but stared out the window above the sink. He gave a soft noise, 'heh', and looked back at the plate before scrubbing it once more. "I have Clara...you know that, pup." He turned the water on just enough to rinse the plate clean of suds. Ah, damn, still a spot. He went back to scrubbing it.
Courage turned towards Francis now, his eyes boring into him. "You two are friends...that's it. Right?"
Feeling the weighed gaze on him, Francis, who was also getting frustrated with how he couldn't get this damn spot from the plate off, turned with a huff. "Now why would you be saying that, boy? We live in the same house, we visit together, we pay bills together...your Muriel and Eustace in there seem content enough to think we're together like they are, a couple. What makes you say otherwise?" Did it disturb Francis, to know that the dog had seen through their play? Not that they were these sorts of people who gave into public displays of affection, but neither were Muriel and Eustace, so of course the old couple thought them a couple.
But what part, aside from that, had placed doubt in Courage's mind?
Courage shrugged a bit, drying cloth in hand. "Writer's intuition I guess," he wasn't entirely sure himself. If he were to be honest, it was in the way Clara looked sometimes. She would have a sort of look in her eyes or how she would say something. Truthfully, Courage felt the feeling but couldn't find the words to it - for all that was good for writing as a living.
Francis studied him closely. There was no malice or trickery in their purple-haired dog-friend. There never had been and there never would be. He could only find comfort that if Courage had noticed something, the older pair wouldn't have, for they were nowhere near as sharp. And so long as this...this did not spill over into their lives in the cities? What did it matter?
"Heh. Ah to be a writer, full of creativity and imagination." Francis side-stepped answering. He turned and went back to washing the dishes. "Tell me, what's your new novel about?" Thankfully, Courage turned back to his task as well and began to talk in detail on that.
Yet it did matter, a little, to Francis. Not in terms of being caught, but in the regard that...the dog had seen something few had noticed, something Francis didn't often care to acknowledge himself. He had picked up that there was a sort of love between Francis and Clara, but anything more than that love was one-sided, and it all belonged to Francis.