Reticent words
Exempt from the frost
Speak in the eternal tongue

The haiku would not stop bouncing through Andrew's head. Normally whenever he chanced upon a piece of poetry he would have no issue in dismissing it. Therein lied the present problem: the verse was his own. It was surprising seeing as he had been pretty impotent in his creative writing elective. He winced. That was a bad word choice.

They were halfway to Omaha, having passed Worthington not ten minutes ago. It was a little after four in the afternoon, and both dealt with the uncomfortable silence in various ways. Rachel had her head propped against the window, sneaking glances at him when she thought he couldn't see. Andrew mostly focused on driving. He wasn't going to turn on the radio. For all he knew, Stephen could probably be calling in song requests; the ribbon to tie up the pretty little package.

The package in this case being the two of them.

The painted sky above them showed through the clouds in a golden haze, billowing like a parachute. The landscape was as quiet as the two of them were, serving as the perfect backdrop to the raw country lifestyle as he guided the car toward Nebraska's major city. He felt the silence went on long enough, but hadn't the slightest clue what to talk about.

If he wanted to be completely honest with himself, then he could say he didn't want this. He truly didn't. The circumstances had shifted without his agreement and the constant hint of that jumble sat beside him. Women mystified him. With their purses and high-heeled shoes and makeup and their endless routine of hour-long bathroom habits, it was amazing they were able to get anything done.

Andrew at least had enough tact that he never said this out loud.

At the same time, he can hardly believe Rachel may have any feelings for him. It was difficult to maintain his composure when the memory of her words dredge up such a thrill in his bones. He wanted to smile, to reassure her, but this entire situation was new to him: he had never had someone like him back, other than as a friend. He wasn't ready to call this feeling love or even, excepting that, a crush. Coupled with the words she uttered in the bedroom are flashbacks of all the girls at Northwestern who had laughed in his face when he timidly asked them out.

Oh, yeah. The grand college experience. The ancient bitterness he felt against those girls sprang forward and it almost escaped his notice when his wings started to tighten around the steering wheel. One feather fell free to the floor plate.

"Andrew? Are you okay?"

Good question. He considered lying, and it would seem harmless to lie to a stranger, right? But he didn't feel about her in that regard. Not anymore. He neither had a crush on her nor was in love with her, but it lay somewhere in between: a yet unnamed emotion.

Rachel was looking at him intently.

"No, I guess I'm not," he admitted, and just like that his mouth developed independent speech. He spoke about Carly being in love with Chuck, and the disappointment he had felt when he found out, and wrapped it up with his inter-collegiate romantic failings. "I mean, the whole thing was pretty much bullshit. Don't get me wrong, I am happy that Stephen and Linda found each other, but there's still that nagging subject that had to be addressed: why couldn't that have been me?"

"Do you still feel that way?"

There was an exit approaching, and Andrew turned into the right lane before looking at her with his answer, "It's slow going, but I'm starting to get past it." His heart pounded in his ears, but that didn't stop him from taking her paw in his grasp and gently squeezing it. "And I have you to thank for that."

Her eyes were shining.

He was relieved the gas station was within his sight because, as he moved the gear into park, he found he couldn't look away from them.

—

The snow began to fall in earnest as they reached the city. The golden sky had long since faded, transforming the clouds into a great silver lining which placed emphasis on the art deco style buildings and oil streaked streets around them.

"What do you feel like going to see first?" Andrew asked. It was the single most typical question to pop out of his mouth, and such a clichéd one at that.

"I don't know. Never actually been to Omaha. Heard it was pretty disreputable in the 1900's with that 'Cribs' business. Do you think that's true?"

"To be honest," Andrew said, glancing around at the street walkers. People watching had been, and still was, something he considered very absorbing. There was a rather attractive female flamingo in a beige skirt and fleece coat on the corner, covering her head with a wing. He turned back to Rachel, whose eyes had narrowed, and continued, "I've never been here either. I don't know any of the history. The last road trip I went on, Stephen, Jesse, and I headed east, not west. Seeing D.C., Philly, and New York was fun, but also loud, obnoxious, rude, and hot. Each city was like an oven. We went during the highest point of the summer. No bullshit, every minute spent there made me feel like I was going to be a part of a gourmet. This is better, I think. Instead of melting I'll be freezing."

She laughed at that, which immediately had him worried. The laugh wasn't the same as when he revealed Stephen's previous pranks back at the Ivy. The tone was shrill and laced with what he thought was asperity.

"Let's find a hotel," he said, partly to change the subject, but mostly because he felt he needed to set things straight between them, and he didn't want to do it while they were still in the car. Single or not, Andrew was no stranger to jealousy.

"Whatever," the feline replied in a detached tone.

He sighed. Terrific. It was Sophie 2.0.

Wandering the Nebraskan streets in the hope of finding room and board suited to their needs was supposed to be easy, but…

"That's impossible."

…fate, it appeared, had other plans.

"Sorry, sir. Every other space is booked for the next few days. Ya'll just have ta make do with our last bedroom," the lupine concierge replied in a country twang. The big fanged grin on his face made Andrew want to punch him. Badly.

The feline and avian were truly on their last rope. Two hours of them scurrying around the city made both very exhausted, as nearly every hotel in the city was either closed or their 'No Vacancy' sign was flashing for the world to see. Rachel had already lost her temper after the third visit, damn near strangling the receptionist by the poor girl's scarf, and he saw little to no point in enduring another visit to an albeit crammed hotel.

Andrew looked at the leopard, whose only response was a brusque nod. He sighed in defeated exasperation, and offered up his credit card. "We'll take it."

"Great!" the concierge exclaimed.

Andrew's wing twitched considerably.

—

With the hotel fiasco behind them, Andrew unloaded a double-edged sword.

"Want to grab a drink?"

She agreed. The reasons were numerous against the suggestion, not the least of which was how tired both were, but the television was, predictably, showing nothing of interest considering the hour and he was at a loss when it came to do anything else worth doing. He didn't think he would have had any sort of plan if he'd been alone.

The nearest bar was an eight minute walk from the hotel, and both reacted with restrained glee at the prospect. It didn't quite make up for the seven hour drive, but it was a close start.

The wind had picked up, taking flying out of the question, and the snow slowed them down, but Andrew and Rachel made it to the bar without slipping in the drift. He put his wing around her waist about two minutes into the walk to steady her footing, and the leopard leaned toward his abdomen, sending him a grateful look coupled with a certain fondness. They glanced at each other again once they arrived at the door.

"Ironic," he said in a deadpan.

She nodded. "Totally ironic."

The diagonal sign above read:

BAR

California

PKG.

The place was a dive, but also comfortable after the icy spartan atmosphere of the hotel. The typical refreshments were on tap (Blue Moon, Budweiser, etc.) and the hard liquor drinks stood in the back shelf. Dartboards adorned the back plastic blue wall with another television on the left. They quickly sat down at one of the more moderately clean booths by the east corner.

"How ya'll doin' tonight? I'm Sherlene." The speaker, a zebra with a dyed pink and black comb, stood facing them with a small clipboard in her hoofed hand; clearly the waitress. "Can I getcha anythin'?" Her twang was even more pronounced than the concierge's had been.

Alcohol would never be a mainstay in the waterfowl's life. Not that he ever refused a bottle, but studying to become a lawyer invariably took precedence over partying and drinking. He figured that, just for tonight, he would relinquish the moderation he'd accustomed himself to. "Uh, yeah, we'll take two…" he looked to Rachel for confirmation on the order, then stopped mid-sentence. Narrow Eyes had made a comeback, and was watching the waitress with palpable hostility, "…waters for now."

The zebra smiled. She had that particular air of one who would never let life get the better of her. Glancing at Rachel, she said, "Not tha firs' time someone's been protective of her man around me, girl. Look after him close though. The smart ones are always so cute n' nervous!"

Andrew choked. "We're not even dating…"

She didn't let him finish, "Heard that b'fore, Birdy. Ah swear, if you two ain't hitched inside two months, 'll eat ma shirt."

It appeared that Rachel could blush through her fur as much as he could through his feathers. The two matched gazes, then looked away.

Sherlene said, "I'll leave ya two alone." She walked to the bar, but Andrew could see the smug smirk displayed on her face.

They endured a minute of awkward silence before jumping like their seats had just caught on fire, all the while not looking at each other directly.

"I gotta pee."

"I'll get the drinks."

Double-edged sword indeed.

—

The phone had been ringing for over ten seconds, not really reassuring the crane. By the time the machine did its regular recording, Andrew was practically blathering out, "Stephen, it's me. I don't know how things could've gotten any more fucked up, but they have. We're too nervous around each other to know how to act. We've become like waking volcanoes about to erupt and I'm afraid that if I admit my feelings to her it might…"

The receiver clicked and the collie's voice came on the line, sounding extremely agitated, "Holy fucking shit, Andy. The way you're going on is making me believe you're looking to get away from Rachel. What happened to that advice Sophie gave you?"

Andrew's eyes glinted. "It clearly didn't take," he deadpanned. "So you have been spying on me. Us. Well, bravo, Stephen. I hope this prank of yours was worth it."

"It…" he sighed. "It was never a prank, Andy. I think you know that, too. I've given you enough time to work it out on your own."

Andrew's gaze wandered around the bar. Thankfully it proved to remain a quiet night. There was little to no chance of someone eavesdropping on his conversation. "What about the hotels? Rachel and I were running all across Omaha trying to find a room. Can you honestly tell me you didn't have anything to do with that?"

Stephen conceded, "Maybe a little."

"How?"

There was a slight hesitation on the other end. "I put a GPS device in your trunk."

Andrew paused. "You…"

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? What more do you want me to tell you? Yes, I tricked you. Yes, I tricked Rachel. Yes, I maneuvered you both into traveling together. I had Sophie put those films in your shelf, and made up instances to ensure the two of you took the trip together. I'm done with the jokes, okay? Granted, some of those haven't gone over so well in the past, but I mostly did them for your and Jesse's benefit. You think I'm blind so much that I can't see what's going on with you? Yes, your mother is ill, and it's consumed you into a broken state. I did this for you. Not me, you. Andrew Blair. It's about time you actually took the leap, Andrew. Live with the risk. Don't regret the 'might have been's' anymore, because there's a strong chance they'll never fall into your lap again. You like her, she likes you. It's simple. Now, bird brain, are you finally going to accept my advice or continue taking refuge in your feathers?"

He didn't think he'd ever heard Stephen sound so serious before. It was quite extraordinary.

Rachel had by this time emerged from the bathroom, glancing around for him. When she caught sight of him she smiled. Andrew smiled back, a resolute feeling coalescing within him. Paying only a fraction of attention to the words exiting his beak, he replied, "You know what, Stephen? You're right. I'll accept."

"Good man."

He hung up the phone, and walked to where she stood.

Rachel asked, "Who were you talki…"

Andrew drew her into a kiss.