Ink and Flowers - 20. 20: Finley

I was the last to arrive at the Tempest. I had delivered a special bouquet of flowers for Patricia and then spent ages stuck in a traffic jam at a roadworks traffic light. My mood was accordingly. Annoyed, I sucked on my cigarette and almost choked on the smoke when I saw Emmett smiling at a stranger standing with the group as if he was one of them.

At first glance, the guy looked like he could be one of my brothers. Strawberry-blond hair - which fell in a braid down to his bottom - incredibly fair skin and dark blue eyes like Uther or our mother. The slim, delicate physique and impressive height also matched. And there was a strangely familiar feeling when he raised his gaze over Emmett's head and met mine. But a real brother I would have recognized.

Did we know each other, had we met before?

His subtle smile with a mocking undertone, which he gave me before he took another drag on his cigarette, seemed to answer the question in the affirmative.

“Hey, Fin!” Mike called out.

“Hey...”

The stranger stepped closer to Emmett to make room in the small group circle.

The dragon growled warningly, luckily it didn't come out as a real sound.

“Steven- Finley. Finley- Steven.” Jake looked a little embarrassed. “An old classmate of ours.”

Steven and I nodded at each other, another smile playing around his lips as if he found the situation highly amusing.

“You could have gone in already,” I said. “I was stuck in traffic.”

“Nah...” Ben grinned. “Smokes stay outside.” He nodded to Steven, who laughed apologetically and tossed the stub into the appropriate bucket.

I took one last drag and then threw the remains away too. And swallowed another growl seconds later when Steven, who was holding the door open, pushed himself right between me and Emmett.

“Hey, guys.” Susy rushed over before we were even seated. “I have to disappoint you, we have a problem in the kitchen. No fries today.”

“Oh crap, that's exactly why I came.” Mike grimaced and Susy laughed - she looked like she needed it.

She took our order - very hurriedly, I thought - but then we were seated and although Steven was on my right, Emmett was over the corner to my left. That was reassuring.

We talked about this and that until an annoyed-looking Susy brought our drinks. Instead of sipping them like the rest of us, Ben asked:

“How come you're hanging out with us actually?”

Steven laughed, but his face looked pained. “Jake invited me. I said no because I had a date planned, but... she canceled at the last minute and now I'm here.”

Like Mike, I looked questioningly at Jake while Ben grinned.

“We're better than any date.”

“But unfortunately all decidedly cock-laden,” Steven returned, also grinning broadly.

Mike and Ben laughed, but that wasn't my sense of humor, it came across as flippant, even disrespectful.

Emmett didn't seem to be amused either, Jake's smile seemed a little tense.

“Steven forwarded me the picture of Mo,” Jake said and when I caught his gaze, it could have been meant as an apology.

Ben suddenly became serious. “He didn't block you?”

“No.” Steven shrugged. “I saw the picture and wondered, even more so because none of you reacted to it. So I messaged Jake on one side and sent Mo a private message on the other. Carefully asked if I was interpreting it correctly and if congratulations were appropriate and so on.”

“And?”

“It's real.” Steven inclined his head in confirmation.

While the others looked more or less sheepish, I noticed unpleasantly that I couldn't really read Steven. Ben's excitement and simultaneous sadness were clear on my tongue, as was Jake's melancholy, but Steven...? There was mostly cigarette smoke, but also something that reminded me of Bomb.

“Well,” Jake said, trying as often to keep the mood positive, “Mo's the first of us then.” He wanted to raise his glass as if for a toast- was that appropriate in an arranged marriage, I wondered- but Steven held him back.

“Not that I can really judge, Mo and I were never really on the same page, but this isn't a happy affair. It was arranged. They didn't know each other. What's more, the bride is underage.”

Jake almost dropped his glass, Emmett choked, Ben too.

“And he openly admitted that?” I asked skeptically.

Steven turned to me, his gaze dismissive. “I asked him when he was coming to introduce us to his better half. His answer was that they'll have to wait until her birthday in April to travel. He wrapped more in pretty phrases that I can't reproduce ad hoc, but between the lines it was clear that the marriage wouldn't be recognized here because she's still a minor.”

“Oh God,” Ben muttered coarsely, while Jake crossed himself.

And then it was Mike, of all people, who said: “I miss Mo. The old Mo. But I don't think there's any point in discussing any theories here and now.”

“No, I don't think so,” Emmett agreed, his face showing discomfort, but I could taste his disgust.

Mo may have made a pretty assed exit, but I felt sorry for him. And because I agreed with Mike and wanted to change the subject, I casually wanted to know from Steven over the rim of my glass: “You didn't seem happy to be here earlier. Were you looking forward to your date?”

Puzzled, he looked at me, then laughed. “Oh no, well, maybe so, yeah, I mean, the girl was interesting, but I was more embarrassed because I told Jake no at first and then came crawling back.”

“Women.” sighed Mike. “Say yes to a dozen guys for the same night and then decide on the spur of the moment who they're actually going out with.”

“And you know that so well how?” Jake asked with a raised brow.

“I've got two sisters, man, they do the same thing.”

“Well, I've met enough guys who use the same tactic and end up going out with the prettiest one,” Emmett remarked sourly.

Ben chuckled. “And how many times have you only come second?”

Emmett - with make-up, painted nails and even rhinestones at the corners of his eyes - ran his fingers through his hair a little affectedly before saying in a huff: “One, just one, who's looking for a serious long-term relationship would be enough for me.”

I wasn't surprised that Emmett's gaze was the only one not drifting to me. I blushed anyway.

The topic turned to the dating scene and the stories the boys told were somewhere between horrible and embarrassing.

However, I became painfully aware that what little experience I had had had absolutely nothing to do with dating, but was purely physical. And that I didn't necessarily feel comfortable thinking about it, even less so because old lovesickness flared up.

Emmett seemed to notice, but before he could say anything, the light went out.

“Don't panic! The already known problem in the kitchen has caused a power cut! Everything is fine! Please keep calm!”

“That too...” Steven sighed.

It took quite a while for the Tempest staff to sort everything out - enough people had left without paying - but then we were on our way to Burger Bill because the evening was still young and Mike was hungry.

Shaking my lighter in annoyance, I stopped while the others walked on ahead of me. I have dozens of them, but they seem to realize that I don't really need them and so they give up the ghost faster than I can look. Yes, I could have lit the cigarette with my fire breath - seriously, I practiced that for hours as a teenager - but I didn't want to bluntly reveal what I am. Or rather, I didn't want to unsettle the people around me.

The lighter clicked and clicked, I growled.

“You could ask Steven,” Emmett remarked. I hadn't realized he'd stayed behind to wait for me.

I snorted a puff of smoke into the air and shook my head, at the same moment the lighter finally produced a flame. “Definitely not,” I mumbled around the cigarette.

“You don't like Steven much?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Emmett nodded and walked beside me following the others. “He's... hard to get a hold of. There's something rough and distant about him.”

“I don't like his passive-aggressive attitude towards me,” I replied curtly.

“I don't like the way he keeps emphasizing that he doesn't 'swing both ways',” Emmett snorted.

“And then looks at you like he means the opposite,” I added, barely holding back my genuine displeasure, and Emmett grumbled in agreement.

We followed the others in amicable silence, on foot, because the Burger Bill wasn't far away. Emmett walked conspicuously close to me, our jacket sleeves brushing against each other regularly, and my fingers itched to wrap an arm around him.

Of course I didn't. After that morning in the Tropical Garden, I wouldn't touch him without being asked.

Burger Bill turned out to be a cliché-ridden Wild West pub, with an uncomfortable amount of Uncle Sam posters, US flags and other national pride nonsense.

Who had suggested the pub?

The only glimmer of hope was the large trans flag right by the bar.

And of course, much to my delight, the others ordered one of the tables, which included a pool table.

“What are you pulling that face for, Fin?” Mike wanted to know as he enthusiastically threw his jacket over a chair.

“I don't like billiards.”

“But can you play?”

I sighed. “Yes.” Quite well actually, many barracks and bases have, if nothing else, at least a pool table. But I've heard a few too many jokes from the categories of 'bending over', 'handling poles' and all kinds of hole-jokes to get any real enjoyment out of the game anymore.

“You know it, I'm out.” In a pose which seemed almost slinky, Emmett sat down on the table and placed his feet on the back of a chair.

“Yeah yeah, you're a lost cause.” Mike waved it off and sighed, Jake laughed.

“Can't everyone be a genius like you.”

“Oh, I want to see that,” Steven cut in, cracking his knuckles.

“I'll be the referee, then you play two against two,” Ben decided and sat down next to Emmett. He whispered something to him and the two of them giggled silly.

Jake raised his hands in surrender and nodded, and with a sigh I nodded too.

And so we played our first round, although I had to admit I got a little carried away by Mike's enthusiasm - not least because we were playing against Steven and I could live without a smug grin from him.

Emmett deliberately made a series of comments showing he knew nothing about pool, but he and Ben seemed to be having a lot of fun in their whispered conversation.

It was reassuring to see Emmett so relaxed. My stomach did a somersault or two when I caught his smile. It wasn't real flirting according to the rational part of me, but the irrational part didn't care, it was happy. And how happy the dragon and I were when Emmett, while finding comforting words for Jake and Steven when Mike and I won, winked at me...

Mike was dancing around silly and in his victory frenzy the cue slipped from his fingers.

With an amused roll of my eyes, I bent down to pick it up, making my dog tags slip out of my shirt. Not that I wanted to hide them, but I pushed them back and winced when Steven asked:

“You're serving?”

“Only as a reservist now. MORRTIMER.”

Something flashed in Steven's eyes as he nodded slowly.

Jake passed his cue to Ben, who stepped up to the pool table and leaned against it, chuckling.

“I was with the Legionnaires for five years,” Steven then said, clearly bitter.

“With who?” Emmett asked, puzzled.

“You were in the military?” Mike asked, no less puzzled.

“Ough.” Ben said, grimacing as if in pain.

“Ouch.” Jake commented sympathetically.

“Not by choice, I take it?” I wanted to know and handed Mike his cue back.

Steven's first response was something between a sigh and a snort. “My father is in the army. At the time we finished school... I wanted to please him.” More bitterness in his voice, a downright angry look to me. “I have older half-siblings and I know a half-brother” - I could tell from the looks on the others' faces that they were hearing this for the first time - ”and I get compared to him all the time.”

Someone made a sympathetic sound.

“So, yes, I enlisted and then suddenly I have the choice between plague and cholera.”

“What are these legionnaires anyway?” Emmett asked in between. “I've never heard of them.”

“Support troops,” Jake replied.

“But mixed. Humans and non-humans and mana users and everything,” Ben added.

“They say everything that's not good enough for the MORRTIMERs ends up there,” I continued, and Steven nodded somberly.

“And that's clearly reflected in their behavior.”

“Oh.”

“I did my minimum five years and then goodbye and never see you again.” He saluted mockingly. “The security checks at the airport are much more relaxed.”

“I'll bet.” Mike nodded and then pointed to the pool table. “To play or not to play?”

To play was the motto and that's what we did. Jake was clearly a better referee than Ben, but Ben played better than Jake. Mike and I had to try a lot harder, but whether that would be enough was questionable.

As always in places like this, I had dialed down my senses so as not to go crazy with the amount of people. My subconscious was quite good at filtering out what I wanted to perceive anyway. And just as Mike whispered something to me about our strategy, I tasted Emmett's absolute discomfort.

I turned around, but he wasn't there. Wasn't standing next to Jake making unhelpful comments, wasn't at the table where our drinks and fries were, wasn't there at all. “Where's Emmett?”

Where's my hoard?

From the way the others winced, my tone had probably been harsher than intended.

“He went to get drinks,” Ben said, almost a little meekly.

As the pool tables were in a sort of side room, you couldn't see the bar from here, but my head almost automatically turned in that direction. My attempt to appear normal dissolved as a hint of fear mixed with Emmett's feelings. I brusquely shoved my cue into Mike's hand and stomped off.

“Where are you going?” Mike called after me, puzzled, but I ignored him.

What I definitely couldn't ignore was the guy who had Emmett literally cornered at the side of the bar. He had one hand on Emmett's wrist and from the look of his arm muscles, he was holding Emmett there.

I let my senses run on overdrive while it seethed inside me. The dragon was already spitting fire and digging its claws into the guy, who I identified as a shapeshifter as I got closer. If the tattoo on his upper arm had any meaning, he was probably a tiger.

“Hey.” I said harshly to get his attention.

Very slowly, he turned to me - the way Emmett flinched made it much more obvious that he was being held - and scrutinized me. He was a handsome lad, I had to give him that. “What do you want?” he growled snidely.

“That you let go of my boyfriend,” I growled back, tasting with some relief Emmett's relief.

The shapeshifter raised a brow, so high it looked anatomically wrong. His hand stayed where it was. “And I'm supposed to believe a fatty has such a handsome boyfriend?” he snorted.

“Finley's not fat.” It wouldn't have taken much for Emmett to hiss.

A strange mixture of gratitude and joy that he hadn't denied the boyfriend flashed through me. Turning to the shapeshifter, I replied: “Some men have taste.”

The guy laughed. “Yes, absolutely.” He gestured with his free hand at himself, his tight-fitting T-shirt and skin-tight black leather trousers, then towards Emmett. “And I've got a date, thanks and fuck off.”

“Let him go,” I repeated with forced calm.

Protect our hoard, don't fight. Grab him, fly away, to safety.

“Or what?” he laughed in my face.

“Or I'll make sure you let him go.”

He snorted another laugh.

Worry rose from Emmett and then pain as the guy squeezed his wrist tightly before actually letting go.

Mind you, he only did it to punch me.

I saw his fist coming and dodged, but he still caught me on the lip, which split open.

“Finley!” squeaked Emmett. His fear overshadowed everything else, making it difficult to wrestle down the dragon, who wanted to break out and sort the problem out in his own way.

And that would be a very, very bad idea.

On the other hand: I'm already stronger, faster etc. in human form than normal humans. But so are shapeshifters. Therefore I borrowed strength from the dragon.

Heat suddenly surged through my veins, sharpening my senses, stoking the fire in my chest and making my muscles vibrate.

And then I grabbed the guy by the collar and belt and lifted him up to take him outside.

The guy protested, of course, punching and kicking, calling me names.

“Finley! Put him down!” Emmett also protested.

“For God's sake, what are you doing?” I heard from Jake.

Other guests whispered and shouted, there were gasps for air.

I didn't care about any of that. The guy had threatened my hoard, had attacked me.

“Someone open the doors, quick!” I heard from somewhere and sure enough, two older men rushed over and held the front doors of the Burger Bill open for me.

A wise decision.

I carried the shapeshifter outside and threw him off me. Fortunately, the pub was on the edge of a park and opened its doors more or less directly onto a small forecourt, so at least there were no cars in the way.

As cats are wont to do, he spun in the air and landed on all fours. He raised his head, snarling. I had spent a good twenty years with shapeshifters of all kinds and could see that he was about to lose control. Bubbles formed under his skin already as he straightened up.

“Finley, stop this shit!” Emmett yelled at me, grabbing me by the shirt. “He didn't do anything!”

The discussion of what he had or hadn't done would have to wait. So, without taking my eyes off the shapeshifter, who was struggling to remove his shirt due to the onset of his shift, I shoved Emmett off me. “Get your ass inside and stay there.”

“Don't tell me what to do!” Emmett's voice became shrill. “It's insane to want to fight.”

“Get inside!”

Shapeshifter shifts are painful, everyone says, and that's what it looks like. Body mass that twists and stretches, breaking bones and tearing tendons, teeth changing shape with small explosions. In between, the seams of clothing burst audibly because he couldn't get them off fast enough, orange fur sprouted from the still human face.

As every time, I was glad that my shift was taking place on an elemental level. Like a snap of the fingers, without pain, my clothes stay where they are.

“Cut the crap!”Emmett demanded again, tugging at me once more.

“If you don't want to end up as a snack for that oversized pussycat, you'll go inside and let me handle this!”, I growled.

“Why did you-”

Hearing the voices of the others, I added: “Can someone please take this nutter out of the line of fire?”

“Who's nuts?” By now Emmett was screeching, but judging by Mike and Jake's voices, they pulled him inside.

Just in time.

The tiger shook the remnants of a sock off his paw and hissed, low and threatening. He didn't come any closer, but he didn't need to; tigers are excellent when it comes to jumping.

When he did just that, I dodged and half-wiped him out of the air with a fist.

Hissing, he crashed to the ground, the claws making horrible noises as they scraped over the stones.

I don't know if you can really call what we were doing a fight, because I was actually just standing there punching back while he attacked me again and again, snarling, scratching, biting, casting greedy glances in the direction of the others - particularly Emmett, I suppose.

Had someone at the Burger Bill called the police?

The claws had caught me across the chest and once on the thigh, but for the moment I didn't feel much of it. However, I was beginning to run out of patience. I had already blown my hot breath - without fire - in the tiger's face, but the warning didn't seem to have gotten through. And because I wanted to take care of Emmett - my hoard - I grabbed the tiger by the tail. Not very nice, but effective. With a lot of momentum, I threw him off me again.

Roaring in pain, he sailed through the air, kissed the ground, rolled uncontrollably and then collided surprisingly gently with the wall of the park. He stayed down, tried to organize his limbs and then let it go because of the pain. His self-healing would take care of it. Or an ambulance.

The pub door flew open.

“Are you satisfied now?” Emmett shouted at me.

Somehow I was, I thought, but swallowed the words wisely. I half turned around, which wasn't necessary because Emmett was about to storm past me. Puzzled, I realized that his hair was suddenly no longer light blonde, but a pale lilac-purple, but before he could get past me, I caught him. “Where are you going?”

“To heal him! What do you think?” He tried to break away.

“If you heal him now, you'll really end up a tiger nack,” I returned, trying to gently hold him back, but he resisted. “Or he'll just keep going.”

“He's hurt, Finley! Because of you!” Anger and pain and something strange surrounded Emmett like a cloud.

“He has self-healing powers, Emmett!” I raised my voice, hoping some of it was getting through to Emmett. “And someone in there has surely called an ambulance.”

“He's in pain!”

“You stay here!”

“You're crazy to just start this shit in a pub-”

“Calm down!”

“Don't tell me to calm down! He has-”

“He held you against your will! He scared you! Do you think he would have listened to your no?” At the words, I realized that I was also holding Emmett against his will and let go.

He stumbled two steps and glared at me angrily.

“When would you have started fighting back, huh?”

“You could have killed him.”

“If I wanted to, I would have done it right there at the counter.”

“You're disgusting!” Again, Emmett's voice slipped into a screech, but before I could say anything, he turned away and stormed off.

Caught off guard, I stared after him.

“Sweet Jesus...” Jake muttered behind me.

The ray of hope was that Emmett actually ignored the tiger shifter and stomped off in the direction we had come from. Furthermore, he was storming off like angry humans tend to do, not running like a flight-instinct-driven... whatever he was.

“His hair is purple...” Mike remarked incredulously.

“Is that really your only problem?” hissed Ben.

“At least there's a bit of fire under all that glitter,” came Steven's amused reply.

I swallowed with a dry mouth, ignoring the others. The wounds were burning and itching, my self-healing was working on them. Indecisively, I looked after Emmett. Go after him and talk? Wait until he cooled down?

Both options were probably pointless, because he would certainly never want to speak to me again.

But the dragon was pressing, wanting to make sure our hoard was all right.

So I took a hesitant step, a second, and while I grimaced because my right thigh hurt like hell now, Emmett stopped.

With both hands buried in his hair, from which the human mask had fallen away, he stood there, swaying.

I hesitated again.

“Go,” Jake muttered to me and gave me a nudge.

I managed one more step before Emmett whirled around and came at us again, bitter anger still on his face.

“Uh-oh.”, Mike made ominously.

There's no way this is going to end well.

“How dare you!” Emmett's hair wasn't just lilac, it was glittering. “How dare you start an idiotic bar fight right in front of me!”

He raised his hand and I braced myself for a slap. Yes, I would take it just like that. Because, I realized at that moment, I deserved it. I had given him orders, rejected him, acted against his nature when I had forbidden him to heal.

However, he hit my chest with his fist, right on one of the scratches, which elicited a pained grunt from me.

“How dare you hurt a humanoid in front of me like that? Harm him?” He threatened me with his index finger. Glitter that hadn't been there before shimmered on his face. Then he hit again. “How dare you keep me from my instincts and allow someone to suffer pain? To the point where I don't even have all my senses together right now to be able to heal at all?”

“Emmett, I-” I began cautiously, wanting to explain to him that I too had instincts which forced me to act, but an indignant sound interrupted me. The strange flavor in his bouquet of emotions was longing, if I wasn't mistaken, but that was a completely inappropriate component, it couldn't be right.

Another punch to the chest. “How dare you-”

“And now let's just leave it at that, shall we?” interjected Steven in a generous tone, half-emerging beside me.

Puzzled, I saw him grab Emmett's wrist and pull him a step away from me.

“You'll stop hitting that rude brute and come with me, will you, Glitterboy?”

Completely taken by surprise, Emmett stared at Steven.

I stared at Steven equally taken aback. And couldn't suppress a hiss when he returned my gaze.

Steven's eyes were golden. Not yellow-gold, like shapeshifters tend to have, no, really golden. Real glittering gold. Like my eyes had been while I had tapped into the dragon-strength.

Steven had dragon eyes.