Chapter Seventeen: Butterfly Kisses

After pulling out the small rubber plug with closed eyes, Joy helped her nervous, arched friend step out of the draining bath basin. She gently patted his torso with the bath towel, then handed it over. Once he wrapped the large cloth around his wide waist, the fish-man gave the young woman the consent to open her eyes and he meekly asked for some clothes from the large dresser.

Because there was no way in heck that he was going to greet his mirrored mocking self again.

Clinging to the stretched damp towel to dear life and looking to the floor, Moreau hobbled toward the couch and judiciously settled into his cushion indent.

Soon, Joy cheerfully sauntered over and with a pleased smile, she faced him with some limited folded apparel.

"Here we go... Clean pants and undies." She took a glimpse at the mentioned items within her crossed arms. "Umm... are ya sure ya don't want any socks ta keep your tootsies warm?"

"No thank you, Joy," replied Moreau, somehow knowing that the woman was referring to his toes. "The pants and uhhh... undies are just what I need."

In reality, the fish-man would've reveled in the cottony softness around his feet, but he just didn't want to chance to slip and having his profound girth topple over his little precious person.

"Welp, I'm happy dat you're putting on new clothes 'cause new clothes'll make ya feel... new!"

Charmed, Moreau beamed as Joy handed over the clothing.

"I'm gonna clean da wittle towel from da bath and I'll stay in da kitchen so Mo can be all personal while changing. Alright?"

Still clutching the wrapped, thick cloth, Moreau's left, webbed hand was parallel to an oyster guarding its pearl.

Al-Al-Alright, Joy."

With a curt bob of the head, the woman retrieved the dishtowel and skipped into the small hallway for some detergent.

Staring at the lifted clothes in his thin hand, the flushed fish-man placed them on the left couch cushion. Astonishingly, he was actually... comfortable with dressing himself now. Because of course, he believed every word that Joy breathed out, let alone that she had spent a good time scrubbing his nearly fully exposed grimy body. That bathwater became as black as the Village at midnight.

While Joy hummed and did her task in the kitchen, Moreau slowly sat on the brown sofa. And after opening the towel, he began to clumsily slide his damp undergarment down, then shook his feet until it departed from his ankles.

Pushing the old, faux boxers next to the old stained and frayed pants with his foot, Moreau then carefully stepped into the new pair: real boxer shots. He was relieved that the red plaid garment was very stretchy as he gradually pulled them up. Notwithstanding being a little snug around his stomach, Moreau sighed proudly that he was able to wear such a clean and fancy undergarment. Next, came the new pants. Their fabric appeared to be an olive hue.

The fish-man's mouth-line stretched upwards from his friend's choice for him. He did say that green was his favorite color.

Like the boxers, Moreau took his time; mumbling while repeating the heavy motions of wriggling and shifting from wide side to wide side. Getting dressed was always exerting, but he didn't wish to ask Joy to clothe him. That would be rather hard for her to accomplish with fastened eyelids.

Once the trim of the pants reached his hips, Moreau grunted to his feet and looked at the right entrance of the eatery.

"Uh'hem?" he rumbled diffidently. "I'm, I'm all dressed up, Joy."

"Alright!" peeped the young woman, striding up to him. "So..." She folded her lowered hands. "How does Mo feel?"

Moreau peered down at himself. It had been an unknown amount of time since the last time he'd changed into fresh clothes since he... well... changed. The fish-man wiggled his clean pointy toenails and felt his sleek, thin hair which thanks to Joy's adamant washing, appeared brunette in color.

Rapidly, Moreau blinked multiple times. His hair was brown? Had it always been brown?

Forgoing his fogged memory, he refocused on his friend.

"Mo feels..." Spiky overbite teeth jutted from an immense grin. "He-hee... squeaky clean!"

With cupped hands to her bosom, Joy leapt up and down in happy triumph.

"Yay! Tee-hee! I told'ja ya would!"

Moreau chortled from the reaction of the joyous woman. Someday, she would touch the interior roof of their cabin from all the boisterous bouncing!

"He-hee-hee! Yes, yes, Joy sure did toldeded me."

"Uh-huh! I sure... Oh!"

After the small gasp of sudden realization, Joy reached for a back pocket.

"I'm all done getting snow from da porch." She put out her hand which held a small, slender piece of metal. "Here's your key ta da front door, Mo."

Moreau closed his eyes with a shake of the head and waggled a revealed palm.

"No, no, no... Joy keeps our key!"

Surprised, the woman pulled her arm in. "Oh! I... I do?"

"Yes, yes! Because Joy is now the Lady of the Lodge!"

The fish-man noticed her shimmering sights becoming wider and he put up his hand once more.

"I..! I mean until Joy's... unlosteded! I didn't mean-!"

"No, it's alright!" Joy raked the large room around them and beamed at her worried friend. "I... I like dat name."

Moreau knitted his clean fingers together. "You...? You do..?"

"Uh-huh! Da Lady'a da Lodge sounds super-duper fancy."

Moreau's smile grew anew as he regarded the young woman admiring the old key as if it came straight out of an excavated treasure chest.

"So, it's really mine..? ...Right now?" she asked hopefully. "Really?"

"Yes..." Her friend firmly bobbed his head. "Really, really."

Joy's bright beam glowed even brighter. "Wow... I never had my own key before... I always had ta use Mom's or da spare dat had ta stay under a big rock."

Joy pressed the unlocking trinket under her collarbone and she felt her heart swell with more pride and trust.

"I promise dat I'll be super-duper careful and never ever lose it. Ever! Thank you... Lord'a da Lodge!"

Moreau's cheek-lines and the creases around his eyes deepened from Joy remembering his new, self-appointed title.

"He-hee-hee! Lady of the Lodge is most welcome!"

After the woman replaced the cherished key in her blue jeans pocket, Moreau craned his head to look at his exposed, inner navel, and the ends of his lips were quickly yanked downwards.

"What's da matter, Mo?"

Moreau raised his view to his concerned friend. "I, I can't close my new pants..."

Joy discerned the parted open pair; the little button was uselessly dangling to the side.

"Hmmm... did'ja hold in your breath when ya tried buttoning it?"

The fish-man nodded solemnly and the young woman gave a reassuring smile.

"But are da pants comfy?"

Glancing at his spotless feet, Moreau fidgeted his bent legs in place.

"Uhhh, yes. Yes, very comfy."

Grinning, Joy made an approved bob of the head. "Den dat's what matters! Besides..."

She lifted the hem of her sweater, her outward belly button in full display.

"...I got a tummy, too. Tee-hee, everybody does!"

Moreau blinked broadly as Joy patted the little round abdomen and he shied a bit. He had seen it before, but the woman had pulled up her sweater a bit higher and had done it so fast that he wasn't expecting the reveal.

"Cakes are da best dessert!" Joy coyly giggled, letting the woven apparel fall.

"Yes, they are," agreed Moreau, despite not being able to reminisce about eating any kind of baked sweets.

However, he did recall some mushy pies being thrown at his hunched back when villagers thought he was unaware of their presence. Their murmuring mirth gave them away...

"Are ya cold, Mo?"

"Huh?" the fish-man quizzically droned, being brought out of the unhappy memory.

"You just shook. Da fireplace is really warm but maybe ya still need a shirt or something..." Joy paused in thought. "Orrr... do your eyeballs still wanna look around?"

Moreau partly turned and glanced idly at the bright hearth's pulsating cinders. The shiver was not from feeling chilled but from thinking about his rebuked past...

His stupid, confusing, humiliating past.

In the serene and soothing room, he made an about-face and silently gazed at the thoughtful being in wonder. She was completely unruffled by asking such an unconventional question about his inhuman orbs.

Moreau licked his shocked lips. How could this perfect precious person possibly be his? Regardless, Thank Mother Miranda she was!

He smiled at his patient friend. "No... Those eyes don't... uhh... work."

The curled corners of the fish-man's lips heightened. Thanks to Joy, not anymore, anyway!

"Okay," Joy simply responded. She blinked at the distant, broad bureau across from them. "Do ya wanna pick out a shirt or maybe a sweater? I can help ya pick out something dat's super nice."

Moreau's mouth-line was still raised, however, it was from hearing his friend's inquiry for assistance. All the same, his muddled mind still traveled back briefly. Why couldn't his assistant have been... super nice, too?

But even if Moreau did accept Joy's offer, no amount of willpower nor the aid of those mighty little arms would get any kind of garment passed his broad head. Much less roll down his profoundly bulky, bumpy body.

"Thank you, Joy, but no blouse here will fit me..."

Moreau turned his view and Joy did the same, towards the trench-coat, hanging over the big rocking chair.

"...But I think it's time that I put my big coat on."

There was a yielding respire before that decree. It'd been nice to be free from the heft of the leathery, stitched tarp, and his friend was amazingly comfortable with seeing his disgusting, deformed flesh. But it was the fish-man himself who was not so keen on seeing his ugly glory if he got too dang close to that dang mirror.

"Alright." Joy walked up to the covered rocker. "I just scrubbed your coat without soaking it so ya should be able ta wear it now."

She freed the mobile chair and Moreau idly watched it sway back and forth while she stroked the trench-coat with examining hands.

"Oh, good! It is nice and dry. Dis'll stop ya from feeling cold, Mo."

"All-All right," Moreau said quietly, not wanting to explain the saturnine truth about returning the heavy and coarse thing to his slightly, lighter self.

He began to slowly move forward but stopped when he saw Joy gesturing a free hand to him, then to the held attire.

"May I?"

The gloom in the fish-man's chest was cleared by the sweet indication.

"Yes, you may."

He had to clothe himself countless times. It had always been a pain doing so. Both physically and mentally. Now... it didn't seem so disheartening.

Outspreading the trench-coat, Moreau gradually veered to put his arm in the sleeve, then started to repeat the motion.

"Oh my goodness!"

"Wh-what-?" Moreau froze, his eyes blinking broadly. "What is it?"

"Awe! I didn't really see it before. Ya do have a tail!" was the delighted squeal.

Moreau was both surprised and concerned. Was his hated-self trying to get free by being sneaky? He yearned to swerve around to try and catch a glimpse but decided against it since he was partway in the trench-coat. Plus and more importantly, he did not want to trample Joy's precious toes.

The woman read the worry in her friend's crumpled features but wasn't sure why he would become so anxious. Mer-people tails were wonderful!

"It's totally okay, Mo," she guaranteed softly. "It's on da squishy thingy by your pants. Don't worry, it's just a wittle cute one." Joy giggled with a whimsical smile. "I wouldn't mind having a wittle fishy tail. Tee-hee! Not at all!"

"Oohh..," Moreau sighed with relief. "I... I know about the... uhhh... little cute tail..."

Even though the 'squishy thingy' slung over his backside, he had unluckily caught sight of it in the reflection of water. Nevertheless, his mien lightened, on the account of Joy's simple yet endearing admiration. So this was how it was to be respected by someone!

Moreau's smile enlarged. He would swear on his pre-mutated life that Joy would make such a marvelous mermaid!

Once he was fully in his trench-coat, the young woman tugged the front to make certain that her friend was dressed properly, and she moved sideward to the tattered gray pants and unrecognizable undergarment.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Mo, but I think deese clothes won't clean up good. And I'm afraid dat scrubbing dem might make dem umm... rip more."

"That's all right," remarked Moreau while adjusting his hood. "We can toss them away."

"Good idea. Ya don't need deese anymore 'cause ya look much nicer in da pants dat ya got on now."

"Oh?" Moreau gasped timidly. "I do? R-Really?"

"Oh yes. Really, really! Green always goes with blue."

The baffled fish-man scrunched his lips and big brow.

"But... Joy... My uhh... undies are red..."

"Tee-hee-hee! Not your undies, Mo. Your eyes!"

Disconcerted, Moreau lifted his squirmy, spindly digits from his friend's statement, touching his cloaked temples.

"My... my, my eyes... are blue?"

"Uh-huh!" replied the woman with a zealous nod. "Bright blue. Like da ocean and my sweater. One'a my favorite colors. Very pretty!"

Moreau's only response was a lone blink. Pretty eyes? His eyes?

Joy bent her knees and scooped up the threadbare clothing from the floorboards.

"I'm gonna put deese outside before I use da porta-potty. Maybe when everything dries up, animals can use dem ta make a warm nest."

Moreau nodded but still didn't say anything as Joy trotted for her coat and then for the backdoor. And after blinking normally again, with a tense gulp of air to steel his nerves, the fish-man warily began something that he thought he'd never do on purpose...

Go and use the mirror.

Mirrors were just as bad as seeing himself on the surface of the water, if not worse. And the latter was always by accident. But Joy had gotten her friend extremely curious. And it was her remark that gave him the drive to deflect some of his self-loathing for the time being.

Besides, Moreau told himself that at least with the return of his trench-coat, he wouldn't have to see his overgrown benign brain jostling... and vacuously ogling.

The fish-man's big and malformed heart thrummed gleefully from the thought of the iridescent pair of emeralds of his precious person.

Green always goes with blue.

Feeling tense, he kept his nose pointed at his treading feet while approaching the extended part of the living quarters. Once the legs of the big carved pine were in view, Moreau tightly crinkled his lids shut. And with an edgy exhale, he drew down his hood and stared straight ahead at the wide, rectangular glass.

Moreau grimaced at the glassy doppelganger. Although he was much cleaner and... prettied up, seeing the disfigured withered face narrowing its sights right back at him wasn't the reason for his sulking.

Moreau stared into his reflection's eyes; both appeared gray with one still cloudy as his mind and the sclera of the pair remained as black as his past. So why on this flat earth did his friend say they were bright blue?

"Whew! It's still so chilly whilly out!" exclaimed Joy, returning her winter wear to one of the pine hooks of the coat rack. "I hope all da animals have a comfy place ta sleep like we do."

The young woman turned her head to find her friend right in front of the dresser mirror. She went up to him with a pleased smile.

"I see dat somebody's making sure dat I cleaned his hair good enough..."

The fish-man didn't answer. Even when he saw the pretty being's image appear next to his gross one.

"...And I'm super glad ta see ya using da mirror 'cause ya seemed not... ta... like... it..."

Her wording had dwindled from seeing Moreau's countenance. His stare was half-lidded. And his glowering mouth-line had dropped further.

Joy laid a hand atop his hidden, wasted-away shoulder which finally granted her, his attention.

"Mo..? What's wrong?"

"N-nothing..," Moreau muttered weakly.

Firmly, Joy swayed her head from side to side. "Nuh-uh, Mo... You're sad about something."

Moreau's frown became less deep. "How does Joy know?"

"'Cause..." The woman concentrated for a few seconds. "...eyeballs can say lots more dan mouths can."

The fish-man smiled because of his friend using his phrase, but it was brief.

"Joy's right. ...I'm sad because, because my eyes aren't... Joy's f-favorite color."

Puckering rosy lips, the woman flattened her palms on top of the dresser and extended her neck so her small nose was inches away from the mirror. Unblinking, Moreau's pupils flicked to the side at the fixated beauty next to him.

Following a few moments of only hearing their breaths, Joy straightened herself and looked at her friend, giving him a curt nod.

"Uh-huh! Yes, Mo's eyes look bright blue ta me!"

With scrutinizing sights, Moreau leaned in closer to the baffling glass, then relented a shrug.

"I... I don't see any blue..." His lids slid closed in disappointment. "Is, is Joy sure?"

Moreau's blinded view and his hung head were instantly revived when the return of the fluttering touch of warm skin brushed his rubicund cheek.

Moreau stared in astonishment as the consoling woman took a step back.

"Joy's super-duper sure. Your eyes're bright blue 'cause dey just are..."

Bright green orbs glinted with the utmost certainty.

"...I know dey are."

Lifting the longer side of his stringy hair, she observed the fish-man's big face.

"It's nice ta see my friend without his hoodie. And I bet your pretty eyes like it, too."

Still wordless, Moreau bowed his head humbly, no longer pondering about the shade of his irises.

"Wh-what, what was that?"

"What was what, Mo?"

"What, what Joy did just now?"

"Oh, dat... just a butterfly kiss."

Joy giggled as her agape and sputtering friend fiddled the air around them like a crossing guard who had ingested too much coffee.

"But-but wh-wh-wh-what's a-a-a but-butter-butter-fly-fly wish?!"

"Tee-hee-hee! Butterfly kiss.

Moreau's eyes were almost as wide as his mouth.

"K-K-Kiss?!"

The bubbly, young woman shook her head playfully. "Butterfly kisses just means when someone tickles somebody's face by blinking fast. Like how butterflies flap their wings."

Blushing, Joy flittered dense, auburn eyelashes.

"Tee-hee, my mom says dat I give da best butterfly kisses 'cause'a my big ol' lashes."

The warm-faced fish-man nodded. "Does Joy..." He drummed his fingertips. "...Give l-lots of... butterfly kisses?"

Joy considered the enquiry, but only momentarily.

"Just ta people dat I really like. Like my family."

Moreau swore that he could feel his bright blue eyes smiling.

"Hmmm... yes," he hummed dreamily. "Family..."

"Uh-huh," The woman held her friend's hand and squeezed her own into his palm. "Family."

Several silent moments passed and the beaming dual blinked their reverie away.

"So..." Joy gently swung his arm. "...is Mo up for some more Old Maid?"

The agog fish-man chuckled and bobbed his head numerous times.

"Oh, yes, yes! Mo's already standing up so yes! He-he-hee! Let's go and play Old Maid!"

Shaking her shoulders, the tittering woman covered her lips.

"Alright, Old Maid it is!" She retook her left hand and pulled out the small deck from the dresser's drawer. "Come on, I'll get da cards ready!"

Before Moreau readied to trail his friend like an evening shadow, he held up his hands to pull up his hood...

However, the fish-man paused.

Turing halfway, he craned his head partially to the big glass, stroking the brown strands that were caressed by the woman's little fingers.And for the first time for an unknowingly how long in an indefinite aged existence, Moreau smiled... at himself.

I still don't like your face but Joy does. And that's all I need. So there!

And following the poking of a razzing pale tongue, Moreau hurriedly hobbled to the kitchen as he rethought what Joy's mother had said. For while this parent had been wrong about Joy's eyelashes being old, she was absolutely right about those wondrous butterfly kisses. They were quite indeed, the best!

A/N: A picture of chapter 15 was drawn by a long-time and very talented friend of mine. It is within my 'PURE JOY' gallery in Deviant Art under my DA name: GDeNofa. Or just search "Salvatore Moreau: Joy Sees Mo" on DA.