Summary: In a prequel to a PREVIOUS STORY, a homeless boy forges bonds of trust with a couple who want to adopt him.

Download the original file to read the story with its intended formatting.

 Readasaurous co-wrote this story with me.
 Christaphorac commissioned this and owns all of the characters mentioned herein. He also supplied the thumbnail art.

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The Ghost

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Alone in the baleful dark, a young gerbil stood atop a craggy column in the middle of a long processon of pillars spanning a deep expanse. He couldn’t fathom how he’d gotten himself into this. A moment ago, he’d only just stepped off the solid cliff behind him, and now he was stuck. But even as doubt and apprehension prickled his stomach, he knew he had to go forward. He had to risk it. Someone important had been waiting for him for three years, and he had to find and tell him what had happened. Resolutely, the boy fixed his gaze on the pillar before him, bent his knees, and jumped.

As soon as he’d leaped, he knew he was going to miss his target.

With anxiety spiking inside him, the gerbil slowly sank into darkness.

---

Simon awoke in bed, in a small room, and was alarmed that he couldn’t see the sky above him. He could sense that he was alone and that Jeremy and Watson were nowhere near.

‘They’ve got me’ was his first disoriented thought.

However, he realized a moment later that he could in fact see not only the sky, but the stars – they were visible through the window on his right. In rapid domino effect, he recognized the room he was in and exhaled a sigh of relief as he realized that he was all right. He was still only visiting with his new friends. Alone in the tiny guest bedroom, the 12-year-old relaxed a little.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop thinking about his dream. It hadn’t been a nightmare so much as a fantastically-illustrated reminder of unfinished business in his life. Simon had a lot of those, and they were always intense. He’d had nightmares when he was younger, after he’d run away from home and taken to living on the street, but as he learned to cope physically, his dreams had become less of a horror movie and more of a thriller. He didn’t know anything about psychology but figured they probably wouldn’t go away until he confronted the obvious meanings behind them. That was easier said than done, but trying to ignore his dreams resulted in hard consequences. The one he’d woken up from had been the second unpleasant dream he’d had that night, and it wouldn’t be the last.

In the first dream, he’d been walking along the side of a busy desert road. Cars and trucks kept blaring past him, moving so fast and noisily that he’d repeatedly run from the roadside to avoid being hit. He’d really wanted to reach where he was going, but the vehicles kept him from moving forward. He’d eventually braced himself against the deluge and refused to dodge, and the roaring cacophony of their horns had woken him up. He’d lain in bed then, too, and thought about the actual event that dream aluded to – namely, his three-mile trek to Gallup from a few years ago. It hadn’t been nearly as rough as all that; he’d made it at night and there’d been little traffic on the road.

After that dream, he’d gotten up and wandered into the living room to watch some TV. Going to sleep was difficult enough for him, and waking up too early always deterred him from trying again. He thought he’d been quiet as he switched on the box, but to his surprise (and instinctive distress), someone joined him just a moment later.

“Thank god it’s you” said Casey as he’d entered the living room. “If I’d actually heard late-night talk shows in my dreams, I’d worry about myself.”

Casey was a jaguarundi and the boyfriend of Oso, the public health agent who’d invited Simon here. Simon liked Casey but he didn’t know how the feline would react to being woken up in the middle of the night. Simon typically went out of his way to avoid upsetting anyone, and his initial reaction to being found had been to fear the worst. However, Casey had responded to the boy’s obvious alarm by calmly producing a bag of chips from a nearby cabinet and nonchalantly joining him on the couch, where he offered the snack to Simon. Casey’s willingness to meet a person where they were at endeared him to Simon. In a rare instance, the homeless kid had felt safe in the company of someone other than his longtime friends.

He felt safe now, too, as he lay awake in bed and focused on the chat he’d had on the couch. Simon had built a rapport with Casey with almost dizzying speed for someone as cagey as him. He’d admitted to his sleeplessness and found out that Casey had once dealt with the same problem (the jaguarundi’s advice was to try to will himself to get out of bed to use the bathroom – reasoning that he’d instantly feel more tired). They hadn’t spoken about Simon’s dreams directly – the gerbil wasn’t about to volunteer something that personal just yet – but had inexplicably spoken about how it felt to be an outsider in a new place. Casey learned about Simon’s three-mile walk, and Simon learned about Casey’s move from Washington to New Mexico. Their shared experiences made Simon think that he may have found a kindred spirit in the cat.

Silently, Simon rolled out of bed and got to his feet – still wearing the jeans and hoodie he’d gone to sleep in. He wasn’t ready to return to sleep right away: though he felt a little more calm now, his brain still buzzed with residual unease. He’d been willing to test Casey’s sleep advice before, but now he simply needed to walk off the lingering dream feelings. His eyes adjusting to the darkness, he crossed the guest room and entered the hallway.

Simon had explored the Goodnight-Sohappy residence before and in depth, but there was something about doing so in private and in the dark that made it more exciting. It’d always been that way, as he’d frequently taken solitary strolls after waking up in the lot behind the old restaurant. Darkness didn’t frighten him, but made him feel autonomous because there was no one around to watch him. Free in his privacy, Simon stalked the long, L-shaped hallway and studied the unique art on the walls at his leisure. He checked out the unoccupied rooms, too, entering Oso’s study to examine the row of guitars on the wall. From the kitchen, he peered out onto the deserted street and reflected on how unusual it was to observe this from inside a home. He went about the living room once more, this time without turning on the TV.

The main bedroom was only a couple doors down from the guest room. This was where Casey had retired to after encouraging Simon back to bed, and the gerbil peeked in through the open door. A darkened picture of a muscular rhinoceros hung over an enormous bed that housed two blanketed lumps – one considerably larger than the other. The stuffy smell of a regular bedroom was oddly appealing to the boy, who had almost forgotten it over many years of sleeping outside. The place seemed extremely comfortable, as well as comforting. He felt an urge to enter, thinking he’d sooner regain his mental equilibrium there than anywhere else, but eventually decided against it. He didn’t want to risk waking anyone up a second time.

Instead, Simon moved to the other side of the hallway and opened the door to his favorite room in the house. It was an improvised gym of Casey’s construction, and Simon affectionately called it “the dojo.” It was the largest room in the house after the den, and was a testament to Casey’s passion. At one end of the room stood a shadow-casting treadmill and a rack of weights, and on the other end – on a blue exercise mat – was a freestanding punching bag and a handsome wood cabinet containing a TV and VCR. An impressive samurai sword stood mounted on top of the cabinet, and a pair of boxing gloves hung off the side. The adjacent wall displayed two pictures: one was a calligraphy scroll bearing Japanese figures, and the second was a framed photograph of a younger Casey – with long hair and wearing a gi – shaking the flipper of a similarly-dressed monk seal. Simon hadn’t asked yet who the gentleman in the picture was, but he’d wanted to know what the writing meant. Casey told him it read “Ju Jutsu.”

Simon knew only as much about martial arts as any other uninitiated kid might, which was mainly that practicing them automatically made a person cooler. He thought it quirky and neat that Casey did so but his much larger boyfriend didn’t, and was secretly working up the courage to ask if he’d teach him anything. However, the deeper feelings the dojo provoked in Simon had less to do with martial arts themselves and more the thrill of physical games. He’d been bullied at school and hadn’t had the best experiences with recess basketball games, but he’d always enjoyed sports in general. The dynamics of physical competition had touched something in him ever since he’d been old enough to kick a soccer ball. He hadn’t been able to indulge in such things for the last several years (Watson didn’t like sports and Jeremy was embarrassingly uncoordinated), and the prospect of reconnecting with the old thrill made Simon feel hopeful about what the future held for his friendship with Oso and Casey. Being in the dojo replaced the unpleasant buzzing in his head with excited whispers, and he threw a few wild punches and kicks in the dark to express his fervor. For the first time in years, he grinned while no one was around to see.

Simon didn’t stay in the dojo much longer. As much as he wanted to punch the bag and play with the sword, he was too cautious of his new friend’s prized property to do so without permission. He quietly slipped back into the hallway and finally felt the weight of tiredness begin to descend on him. He wasn’t sure whether he’d go back to bed, though, and took time out of his walk down the hallway to peer back into Casey’s and Oso’s bedroom.

Much to his surprise, the bed was a lot emptier, with the huge lump outlining Orson’s body having disappeared. Simon had but a moment to realize that Oso wasn’t in the bedroom at all before he heard the sound of a running faucet from the bathroom to his right. His instinct was to flee and hide the fact that he’d been out of bed, but as the doorknob turned and light momentarily spilled into the hall, Simon defied himself. Realizing that someone else was awake had unpleasantly surprised him twice that night, but he didn’t want to feel that way around his friends. He didn’t think he should need to. Thus, he hoped that Oso wouldn’t be upset with him had been and held his ground as the shadow of the ursine joined him in the hall.

“...Simon?” came the bear’s deep, gravelly voice from a point six-and-a-half feet off the ground. “What’re you doing, buddy? You haunting the house like a little spirit?”

Simon remained silent for several moments as he sized up the ursine. Orson seemed to be genuinely curious and not at all angry, so the gerbil slowly relaxed, his one visible eye displaying only mild dispassion. He shrugged and tried to avoid answering Oso directly.

"Sorry, just got a little restless” he replied. “Thought I'd look around when I wasn't gonna get underfoot. It's a really nice place."

He said this as casually as he could, but he was off his game and not prepared for a conversation, much less an explanation for his late night wanderings. His family hadn’t been amused by his insomnia or the resulting walks when they’d been lucid, and being discovered like this put Simon on the defensive despite his best intentions. He tried to think of any potential way his stroll might bother Oso, and he remembered that there were other reasons a stranger would wander around a house at night.

"I wasn't gonna take anything" he added, pulling out the inner lining of his jeans pockets and twisting the pocket of his hoodie to show it was empty. He thought about adding that he hadn’t seen anything particularly worth taking, but even his tired brain recognized that this sounded incriminating.

"Mi casa es su casa" the bear replied mellowly. "Naw, Sy. I know you're not stealing. You wanna check something out, g’wan. Not much here that's off-limits."

He yawned and stretched then, his massive arms spanning the width of the hallway.

"I… I… I gotta get ready for work. You headed back to bed?"

Simon shrugged. He still didn’t feel like going back to sleep, and was unsure how a guest was supposed to pass the time when his hosts were occupied.

"Nah, I'm not that sleepy. Maybe I'll take a walk around the block."

Back at home, that had been one of the easiest ways to deal with his restlessness, even though the neighborhood wasn’t the safest place to go wandering at night. This suburb seemed a lot less dangerous, and if nothing else, he felt like it would be worth his time to get the lay of the land. However, it was unclear what Oso thought of this. The bear tilted his head to the side, and the gerbil felt himself being studied.

"...I think you are sleepy" Oso said, a playful challenge in his tone.

It wasn't so much a challenge to Simon's suggestion of the walk, but a veiled concern about his health. Oso had watched Simon for several weeks now – on the street and in the house – and realized that the kid had a bad habit of neglecting his own needs. Self-care was something Simon only did if he remembered to, as though he were so used to feeling poorly that it’d become his new normal. It was clear that the boy was functioning on very little sleep. Oso didn't think Simon wanted to remain awake for any tangible reason, but rather that he didn't realize how much better he’d feel if he had more rest.

"I'm fine” Simon insisted, finally looking at Oso. “Honest. It's not like I got stuff to do today."

He was genuinely tired, but he assured himself that it wasn’t anything he couldn't handle. It wasn't unusual for him to keep going even after Jeremy and Watson had already slept. Sure, they were usually more lucid than him and he sometimes felt dizzy and weak, but he thought it was a fair trade-off for the group having a nighttime lookout or someone to feed the fire during winter. Nevertheless, Simon was starting to show the symptoms of sleep deprivation: Orson noted him shifting his balance constantly to offset his disorientation, and his hands were shaking delicately as he stuck them into his pockets.

"I'm fine" Simon repeated.


"You're tired" Oso insisted, smiling tactfully through the dark. "If I said 'sleep' to you three times, you'd start yawning your head off."

He said it with the same engaging tone Jeremy adopted when he tried to tease his friends into doing something.

"Tell you what. I say sleep three times, and if you don't yawn, okay. But if you do, you try and have some shut-eye. Whaddaya say?"

‘Oh, he’s good’ Simon thought to himself. He’d already fought the impulse to yawn when Oso had done it himself, and now just hearing the word made him want to stretch and inhale – to say nothing of hearing the word "sleep" over and over. Despite his great control over his own expressions, Simon was losing the war against his involuntary responses. Nevertheless, he crossed his arms and adopted a small frown as he accepted the bear's challenge.

There was a small, ornate bench standing against the wall, between the doors to the dojo and the study. Oso sat on it, putting his face almost at eye-level with Simon's, and stared at the boy – not sternly, but determinedly.

"Sleep" he bade in a solemn tone.

Simon thought of Jeremy, who would bristle at the implication of being ordered to sleep, and instead held his breath and tilted his head up imperiously.

"Sleep" Oso insisted a second time.

Simon thought of Watson, who would quietly endure just about anything that life threw at him, and narrowed his visible eye at the bear.

"Sleeeeeeep..." Oso whispered.

Simon pursed his lips, pulled them inward, and leaned back – anything to forestall the inevitable. But it was too late; he was already inhaling deeply through his nose. He thought about arguing that it didn't technically count as a yawn, but he’d be denying something they both knew was true.

At any rate, he didn’t have time to argue.

In a single motion, Oso stood up from the bench and took Simon into his arms. Air whooshed through the gerbil’s bangs as his feet left the ground, and he grew almost two feet in an instant. He wasn’t used to being picked up, but much to his surprise, it wasn’t unpleasant. There was nothing aggressive in Oso’s gesture, and he held the boy in a nonrestrictive way over his shoulder. The bear smelled of bed and cologne, which Simon had already internalized as a calming aroma. To the boy’s surprise, the big guy didn’t carry him back into the guest room, but into the master bedroom where Casey still lay.

Oso was aware that what he was doing was controversial. Plenty of scrutiny already came his way for being in a queer relationship, and now he had not only invited a lone 12-year-old into his home but into his bed as well. He couldn’t help but imagine the fallout this could cause…but something more important superseded these concerns. There were things in Simon’s life that needed to change, lest he become seriously ill, and among these was sleep. Simon needed more of it, and Oso knew that he wasn’t getting it in the guest room. Perhaps he’d do better if he wasn’t sleeping alone.

Simon was still as Oso carried him, unsure of what to do or say other than assume his usual quiet deadpan. When he realized they were going into the main bedroom, he felt an unexpected prickle of apprehension. He was concerned about waking Casey again, but there was no time to object. Orson gently set him down in the middle of the bed, within arm's reach of the sleeping feline.

“Don’t worry, buddy” Oso said quietly. “You’re fine. You deserve some snooze.”

He pulled up the blanket and carefully arranged it around the boy. Simon was shocked to realize that Orson was actually tucking him into bed. It was like something out of a wholesome 1950s commercial. He wanted to giggle at the sheer absurdity of it...but then, he began to feel comfortable. Something about the way this well-worn bed felt and smelled infused him with great calm. The guest bed was pretty good – much better than his sleeping bag – but Oso’s bed was phenomenal.

“Mmph” Simon muttered, his eyelids drooping. “How do you ever get out of bed...ever?”

“It’s a trap, this mattress” Oso conceded.

Simon rolled onto his side, hugging the pillow against his head. He hadn’t intended to remain in this position, but then the bear began to gently pet his back. It was completely unexpected and intimate in a way that the boy wasn’t familiar with, but so soothing that he didn’t tense. Surrounded by warmth and softness, his nose buried in the scents he'd come to associate with safety, and with Oso’s gentle ministrations soothing him into true relaxation, Simon's eyes grew even heavier. Though he struggled in vain to keep his wits about him, he soon sank into a deep sleep – deep enough to dream.

---

Simon stood among the shelves of a gas station, staring intently into the chilly confines of the refrigerator. What he was about to do demanded great commitment, but he didn't know if he had it in him. Just by grasping the handle of the fridge, he realized that he’d set something ominous into motion, and he knew he was only making it worse as he opened the door and took out a half-gallon jug of milk. Sadness, despair, and unease began to well up inside him.

He carried the jug to the counter. The cashier knew what he was doing, and Simon could feel him staring.

"Can you hurry up, please?" he asked the man impatiently. "I really need to go."

"I'll bet you do" the rottweiler replied knowingly.

Outside the glass door, a familiar car rolled up, and Simon knew intrinsically that he’d been discovered. Forgetting the milk, he dashed out the back door. Sunlight blinded him as he burst onto the asphalt, and when he could finally see again, he realized that he’d arrived back at home – his small, trashy, weed-overgrown home, looming over him menacingly. The front door swung open, and from inside the unlit corridor came a pathetic whine of a voice.

"Simon, did you get the milk?"

Simon wanted to cry in shame and desperation. He couldn’t be here. He just couldn’t put up with this place anymore, and the admission of this weakness was a terrible thing. He wasn’t just a bad boy, but a coward.

But then, slowly, Simon remembered something important. His disgrace and despair melted away like wax from a wick, and the corners of his mouth formed a smile. The way to deal with this was so simple and obvious. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

"I don't have to worry about milk anymore" he said defiantly, his voice carrying deep into the diseased heart of the house. "Because I...am learning jujutsu."

The entire house drew away from him, as though he’d become living fire.

---

Simon awoke more slowly than he usually did, realizing by inches that he was conscious. He stretched and yawned – surprised that it actually felt good to do so after several hours of sleep.

He sensed the presence of Casey before he actually saw him, and blinked up blearily at the jaguarundi sitting beside him.

"Hey..." Simon croaked, pushing himself up to look around the room. "What's up?"

The feline had been awake for over an hour and was still garbed in the same sweatshirt and shorts he'd worn earlier that night. He wasn’t too surprised about the gerbil turning up in his bed, but decided to monitor him while he still slept. Now that Simon had woken up, it was well into the morning.

"Hey!" Casey greeted. "What’s up, you wanna know? Well... Oso's at work, I'm on summer vacation ‘til the school buses roll again, and I think you had one hell of a dream last night. Consider yourself up to speed."

His animated expression relaxed a little, and he reached out to gently pluck the fabric of Simon's hoodie. "You okay? Looked like you were having a wrestling match in your sleep."

Simon shrugged. "I’m fine. You know how dreams go, I can't remember a thing."

In truth, he could remember some of the details, like the errand he'd used as an excuse to run away from home, but that wasn't the sort of thing you just blurted out. Reflexively, he tried to change the topic.

"Oso actually tucked me in. I mean, he actually tucked me into bed. Can you believe that? I never thought that was something people actually did!"

He shook his head disbelievingly before lying back down and to stare reflectively at the ceiling.

"...It was nice, though. Does he, like, babysit for other people?"

Casey smiled at that. Hearing Oso complimented was just as nice as being complimented himself.

"He's public health. Being nice comes with the license.”

A moment later, Casey chuckled unexpectedly. Simon rolled his eyes up at him and found Casey stifling his laughter and deciding whether to reveal a secret.

"Don't tell him I told you..." Casey giggled confidentially. "He didn't babysit, but... You know that grocery chain in town? 'Dragon's Hoard' or something? With the guys in the dragon suits who hug the customers?"

Simon nodded, intrigued. Casey snorted into his hand.

"Oso… Oso was a Dopey Dragon. While he was getting certified."

Simon's facade shattered, his mouth dropping open and his eye going wide. He slowly sat up, a smile growing on his face.

"No. Way."

He coughed out a laugh.

"Oh... Oh my god! Oh my god! Just... That's so perfect! Oh man, please lemme tell Jer! We all gotta go down there later!"

Simon laughed until he was wheezing, and then went on laughing until he was coughing. He finally lay back down, panting and giggling as he caught his breath.

"I can just picture him in that costume, giving everyone hugs and dancing around… Dang, that is adorable!"

The gerbil smiled up at Casey, unknowingly trusting him more now that he had shared a secret like that. In turn, Casey delighted in Simon’s show of happiness. The boy had been fairly cautious with him until now, and it was great to finally see him smile. However, it didn’t escape the jaguarundi that Simon had begun coughing so quickly and for so long. It was likely the result of sleeping outside for so long, in the damp and on the ground. It wasn’t good for him, and Casey couldn’t help but dwell on how there were still two more children out there who thought that was their best option...

"So, how did you two meet?" Simon asked, genuinely curious about his hosts.

"Hmm?” said Casey, still distracted. “Oh! Isn't it obvious? I wanted a pet dragon, so I went out and got one."

He remembered Simon's age a moment later and didn't delve any further into that.

"I'll tell you, but wait 'til he gets back. It's a two-man act, and he needs to do the sound effects."

Casey wasn't exaggerating, but that wasn’t the reason he redirected the conversation. Now that Simon was opening up, it seemed like the right time to broach a very important matter. It was a major topic that Oso had wanted to be present for, but his boyfriend didn't know whether Simon would still be as lucid when the bear came back. He decided to act now.

"Simon..." he began carefully. "Oso and I've done some chatting, here an' there, aaand... Well, we got kind of a big question for you."

Simon's smile ebbed like a phase of the moon, and his facade of indifference returned as a terrible suspicion rose reflexively in his mind - 'Where is your family?'

Were they going to send him back? Oso could carry him effortlessly, and it wasn't like they’d have trouble just driving him back to his old home… Unexpectedly, these concerns brought his last dream to the forefront of his mind, and he was forced to reexamine the old doubt of whether it had even been right for him to run away. A significant part of him felt that he had committed a wrong that still had to be righted. At the same time, another part of him wondered ominouslt whether things at home had grown even worse since he'd left.

"...Yeah?" he replied warily.

Casey sensed the boy's wariness and considered backing off, but he knew it wouldn't do – not now that he had the kid on edge. The jaguarundi sat up straight and looked soberly at the gerbil.

"We wanted to know...what kind of cereal you like."

His suspicion evaporating into relief and incredulity, Simon snorted and grabbed a pillow, pressing it against his face to muffle his laughter and subsequent coughing.

"Ha! Oh jeez...” he chuckled. “You know, I don't really remember what the good cereals were. No, wait!"

He sat up again, his eye alight with excitement.

"Wat told me about this really good stuff! It’s called ‘Lucky Sailor’ and it was all sugar, and it turned the milk green and blue!"

The prospect of being able to eat things previously unavailable to him hit Simon pretty hard, making him feel dizzy. Then he remembered that it might’ve been too long since he'd hydrated, and he smiled hopefully at Casey.

"...Can I get some water, first? Please?"

"Lucky Sailor" Casey repeated, gesturing as though making a mental note. "And water. Got it."

He got up, left the room, and returned with a full glass. As he watched Simon drink, Casey thought he was doing a good job at hiding just how concerned he was for the kid.

"Reason I ask..." he continued with newfound gravity. "...Is that...well...Oso an' me'd love to have you over more, if you want. And if you're here a lot, you gotta have the right kind of cereal. And, y'know, anything else you want."

The gerbil stopped drinking and regarded Casey thoughtfully for a moment before looking away, letting the half-full cup rest in his lap. Of course he could read between the lines: Casey was saying that this might be a permanent thing, that he didn't have to live on the streets anymore. The idea of moving into a home like this seemed too much to hope for, and the last thing he wanted was to get shot down. Thus, he tried to play it cool and adopted a careless tone.

"Oh yeah? That sounds all right. So, what – like a few times a week or something? The others might get jealous, you know."

It was as subtle as he could manage in feeling out the jaguarundi's intentions. He wanted Casey to say it flat out, and more importantly, he wanted to know whether his friends would be welcome. No matter how great this place was, there was no way in hell he was ditching them – not for anyone or anything. They'd agreed to stick together and Simon intended to keep that promise.

"We can do a few times a week, if you want" Casey agreed. "Or longer than that, and all of you could come..."

He too was trying to play it cool, but his heart was trotting in anticipation. He really, really wanted Simon to give him the right answer, and in the end, he didn’t leave it to chance. He gave in and threw his cards on the table.

"I know it's a big deal, Simon, but Oso and I would love it if you guys could stay here a lot. I mean, shoot, you guys could move in and that'd be easiest!"

A moment of silence passed between the two as all doubt in Simon’s mind was eroded.

"...Really?" Simon asked in a small voice, his expression desperate.

He wanted to believe – he wanted so badly to believe – but this was too good to be true.

"We can really just...move in here? And you're not gonna kick us out or…?"

"Kick you out?" Casey repeated, saying the words as though they were a different language. "Dude, no! Who would do that?"

He scooted forth, sitting a few inches closer to the boy, and addressed him solemnly.

"Look, hun... You can talk to Oso, and he'll give you all the options about what you can do if you're ready to move on. But we're one of those options. The bear and I talked about it, and we can do it. We want to do it. Really, dude – if you need convincing, just tell me what I gotta do. I'd love it if you guys made this house a little fuller."

Simon took a drink of water to steady himself, but his hands were trembling. It was all so hard to process. A week ago, his friends and he had been homeless. Now a wonderful couple was practically begging to adopt them. It was unbelievable, and he felt his eyes grow hot. Suddenly, it’d become more difficult for him to hide his feelings.

"It's... It's been three years since I've lived in a house" Simon admitted softly.

The protective side of Casey surfaced as he realized the kid was on the verge of tears. Throwing caution to the winds, he gently put a hand on the boy’s back. He waited to speak until Simon steadied himself, and when he did, his tone had become very soft.

"That how long you've been...y'know...on the street?" he asked sympathetically.

Simon nodded, staring at the cup and trying not to be swept away by those memories.

"Yeah. Things got worse at home, and I just decided that I'd be better off on my own."

He took another sip and was dismayed to realize there was only a little water left. It didn’t occur to him to ask for more.

"It wasn't so bad once Jer and Wat showed up. Jer just decided he was gonna boss us around and keep us alive. And Wat showed up with a backpack full of supplies. Boy, I tell you, I've never wanted to make friends faster than the day a bunny boy offered me a granola bar."

He smiled weakly.

"...It was pretty rough at first though. My first year on my own was..."

He trailed off, trying to find the right words to describe it.

"I thought, at first, I just had to try and find a job or a place to sleep, and maybe just hang out behind a fast food place for when they get rid of the unsold stuff at the end of the day. Turns out, nope! Do you know they ruin unsold food? That’s so unfair! And I offered to run errands and hold signs and clean stuff for food! But no, it was always ‘Who are you? Where is your house? Where are your parents?’"

Simon snorted. He took a final sip of water, wishing the glass were bigger.

"Like, as if that would help. I know they’re really just saying ‘I don't wanna deal with you, so where are the people who’re supposed to?’ It was always like that. Sometimes they got...creepy, too." He moved on hurriedly.

"Mostly they just acted like I wasn't even there. I found out that's how they deal with people who’re homeless..."

Casey listened to what amounted to the tip of Simon's iceberg, and then continued listening as the entire glacial mass was overturned. He had unwittingly loosed a dam within the boy, and Simon became a waterfall. He vented and sulked and divulged over the better part of the next hour. Thrown out into the open were the despair over his family being unable to take care of him, how wearying it was to never be anything but the outsider, and how scared he actually felt in the darkest moments. Even though Casey felt alternatively angry, sad, and incredulous on Simon’s behalf, he said nothing for the duration of the monologue. He had a feeling that Simon needed to get all of this off his chest, and he wasn't about to get in his way.

Eventually, the kid talked himself out. Casey could hear his mouth going dry, and when Simon started coughing again, he wordlessly got up and refilled his glass. Simon took the drink but held off taking a sip until he’d finished.

“Andrew let me stay in his yard, the first two nights” he said hoarsely. “He didn’t tell his folks, but I kept thinking they’d find out and wanna take me back. That’s why I left...but I don’t know why I didn’t ever go back. He was my pal, and I don’t think he found out what happened to me. No one back home does. I didn’t even leave a note. And it makes me feel...bad, I guess. I still have dreams about that.”

He finally drank again, and after he’d finished gulping the water, Casey made sure he saw the expression of genuine respect on his face.

"And I thought I was tough" the cat said earnestly.

With the shadows of Simon’s life still writhing invisibly around them, he sat down in front of the boy and addressed him solemnly.

"I get that you haven't met a lot of good guys in your life" he began. "I figure trust might be hard after all that. But I hope Oso and I've done a good enough job that you might consider trusting us. You can hold this against me, but I promise he and I aren't going anywhere. We're gonna be here...and you and your bros can be here, too. Long as you want."

This wasn't how life went, was all Simon could think. This is what happened in Disney movies, or very self-indulgent daydreams. Watson, Simon, and Jeremy had resigned themselves to living on their own for the rest of their lives; they’d made vague plans about getting jobs as soon as they could and moving into an apartment, or just a roomy van. They told themselves that was enough and that they’d be fine, no matter how hungry and cold and miserable they became. And now, in a pit of resignation, Simon was looking up at an extended hand.

At this point, he was beyond fearing a take-back. His emotional walls were down and he’d bared his soul to the big cat. More than anything else, he longed for the hope that Casey was offering him, and so he accepted at last. He set the cup aside and crawled into Casey's lap, trying to hold back his tears as he wrapped his arms around the man and held him as tightly as he could.

Casey squeezed Simon reassuringly. Not usually one for physical contact outside of sports and the arms of his boyfriend, he nevertheless felt no qualm about Simon seeking comfort from him. His protectiveness towards the boy calcified into an unshakable shield, and as time would go on, he'd realize there was nothing he wouldn't do for the gerbil. In light of this boundless devotion, hugging Simon to make him feel safe was a given.

"I got you, big guy" he murmured reassuringly, doing his best to rub Simon's back the way Oso had. "Everything's cool."

Simon was determined not to cry, and managed to hold it back until he got himself under control by pressing his face against Casey's shoulder.

"So... You're gonna be our dads?” he finally managed to ask. “And Watson and Jeremy are gonna be my brothers?"

It was surreal. The idea that he was forging a new family with people who wanted him around and who he wanted to be with was practically science-fiction.

"Oh man, that means Watson’s gonna be the oldest brother... He really needs to step up his game."

He drew away from Casey and gave him a serious look.

"He's way behind on his noogie-ing and putting us in headlocks and being better than us at sports."

Of course, the mere idea of the timid and submissive Watson trying to bully anyone had Simon fighting to keep a straight face. But even as he did so, he remembered something more important – the conclusion of his last dream, and the request he’d wanted to make to Casey. In the whirlwind of great things happening to him, his shyness began to dissipate.

"Hey... As long as I'm gonna be living here, do you think you could teach me some of the martial arts stuff? I promise not to be corrupted by my own deadly abilities."

Casey didn’t answer Simon right away, because the boy’s first question had thrown him through a loop. Him, a dad? Casey Sohappy, a father? The prospect of adopting this title was so heady that it briefly disengaged the feline. Of all the titles, references, and pronouns he had to fight for, Simon was apparently going to give him one of the most important ones for free. Somehow, Casey felt himself even more endeared towards the kid. He focused again just in time to take in Simon’s request and smiled beatifically at his son-to-be.

"Of course I'll teach you! I'll teach you everything I know, and anything you want! Matter of fact, let's start now."

He leaned back on his hands and raised his legs into the air.

"This technique was developed centuries ago on the battlefields of Japan by master samurai. It's called...Stay in Bed!"

Casey lowered his legs across Simon's chest and pinned him to the mattress.

"Hey!" Simon squeaked in protest, struggling against the pin.

Before now, the gerbil may have felt uneasy being placed in this position, but he was so ready to be happy that he gave in to playfulness. Of course, he thought to himself, he had no reason to feel uneasy while still possessing his secret weapon. Simon had not lived on the street for years without learning to fight dirty. With an evil grin, he began tickling Casey's feet. Casey yelped and withdrew his legs at once, then grinned at Simon with renewed appreciation. The kid wasn't about to give in, and he respected that immensely.

"One of those fighters, huh?" he said coyly, pulling forth a pillow. "Well, here's another technique. It was developed by a village of ducks who got tired of the samurai. It’s called Overhead Feather B-"

Before he could finish, the sound of the front door opening caught both their attention. The two had been so preoccupied that they hadn't noticed a car rolling into the driveway.

"Hey, anyone here?" came Oso's voice – distant at first as he checked the living room, then closer as he came towards the bedroom. "I forgot some stuff for my lunchtime rounds. You guys o-"

He came to a stop in the doorway, halted by the sight of Casey about to wallop the impish-looking Simon with a pillow.

"...Sheesh, guys. What'd I miss?"

Simon was already happier than he could remember being in a long, long time, and thus, he rolled off the bed and approached Orson fearlessly. No more second-guessing and no more uncertainty, he decided. If this was the new way the world worked, then Simon was going to embrace it – starting with Oso. He wrapped his arms around the bear's waist and beamed up at him, his chin on his belly.

"Hey."

Adept as Oso could be in hiding his feelings, there was no masking how unexpectedly this came to him. Even as his big hands automatically came down to settle affectionately on Simon's shoulders, he was dumbfounded as to how the kid could have gone from cagey and withdrawn to hugging him in just a matter of hours. He looked up at Casey questioningly, down at Simon, back up...and then, after a few seconds, his astonished expression slid into a knowing smile.

"You jumped the gun on me, didn't you, Case?" he asked.

"Trust me, I had it covered" Casey replied smugly. “...I committed us to story time later, though.”

“You told him about the dragon thing, didn’t you?”

“And I promised you’d do the sound effects...”

Simon sighed happily and nuzzled Orson's stomach, finally feeling at ease with the world around him. After wandering for so long, he’d made it home.

The End