Page 39 of Foxed Up

I was surprised McCann hadn't pulled a director's couch move, to be honest. I'd wanted to scrape my skin with soap till it was raw when I got out of there, just to get the shuddering feeling off me.

Now, feeling good and safe from a night with Jon and his son Eli, I didn't want to leave this warm, safe place and go back there. But I had to. As I'd told Jon last night, I had a responsibility to the ones who didn't have a choice.

Even people who revel in their sexuality don't like to be forced into things like that work. The way McCann acted...like he owned me before I even started working there...made me absolutely certain on a gut level instinct that he was using coercion, threats, or outright trafficking to keep shifters there. Of course people who were desperate enough might not need any other threat than lack of employment...but my instinct told me no, it was more than that.

I dressed slowly, almost languidly, in the clothes I'd brought with me last night for this morning. I wondered now if they were appropriate. It was my second most battered pair of jeans, and a very raggedy t-shirt. The day was warm enough I would need nothing more. But perhaps I shouldn't appear in front of the child dressed like this. It wouldn't do to confuse Eli.

Last night had been...illuminating. When Jon rushed to comfort his son from his terror and distress, I'd understood his feelings on a visceral level. I don't just mean that I'd understood why he worried or was in a hurry...of course I'd always understood that. He'd been open with me about Eli's challenges, and I supported him fully in putting the boy first. That was what a parent did; how could it be otherwise? No, I mean that I'd felt the same tug. I'd wanted, needed, even, to follow. I'd desperately wanted to comfort Eli, too. To fix it, to protect him. He was just a kit, and he tried so hard.

Almost as if instinct guided me, I'd made the swift decision to shift to my fox form and follow. It hadn't felt right to enter the room without permission. Yet I'd wanted so desperately to press my muzzle against him, to comfort him. I could almost feel Eli's distress and pain radiating out to me. I wasn't his father, but some of my feelings for his father must have grown to include him in a family-like relationship. I'd needed to be there for him, to help.

And fortunately, it had worked. It had been all right with Jon and Eli that I was there, that I try to help. The boy had squeezed me tight, and I hadn't minded at all. He'd cried his tears into my fur, and comforted himself by holding on till he could breathe calmly again. He held me like he needed to, and in that moment, I'd needed it, too.

The intensity of those feelings had caught me by surprise even, after the fact, frightened me a little. Was this what it felt like, even a taste of what it felt like, to be a parent? What a terrifying burden to carry, your heart in another person, and know you couldn't always fix it for them or carry their pain. No wonder Jon got grouchy and brooded when Eli had had a bad night. It must hurt him almost as much as it hurt Eli.

At length, Eli had managed to go back to bed. He'd smiled wanly, and hugged his father, accepted a long hug in return, drank a glass of milk, and petted my fur with small hands and a light touch. I'd stayed close to him till he was asleep. He hadn't wanted me to go.

While Eli's breathing slowed and his muscles loosened, I'd listened with half an ear cocked to the sound of Jon downstairs, doing chores. The quiet clink of dishes, the sound of the washer filling with water. He probably couldn't have gone back to sleep right away even if he'd tried. Instead, he filled the night minutes with work, and worry.

I would have comforted him too if I could have.

Instead, I stayed with the human kit till he was asleep, deep asleep and at peace. Then I eased away and slid down the stairs to find Jon. He stopped what he was doing, his arms full of dirty laundry, and stared down at me. There was a hopeless, almost pleading look in his eyes.

I'd stared back, understanding so much that I hadn't before. How very near the end of his rope Jon was all the time, because of Eli. He was doing the best he could to take care of his boy, and it never would feel good enough to him as long as any pain remained in his kit's life.

He put down the laundry, and this time, I went straight into his arms, and he held me close, pressing a kiss almost convulsively against my muzzle and rustling my ears. His breathing didn't sound quite steady, either.

He'd held me for long moments, comforting us both, and when he put me down, he smiled.

After that, I shifted back and we had a bite to eat before going back to bed. We didn't talk much. Oddly, I felt neither the need nor the inclination. But something had been settled between us. We were in this together now, somehow, in a new way, more than we had been before.

I didn't feel like his boyfriend, or even less than that anymore. If I might still shy away from describing us as mates, because of the pain of his denying our relationship, it felt serious, even settled. I felt something like responsibility, something like belonging.

I was needed here, even if it didn't fit into words for me, what that way of being needed was. It was certain inside me, though, settled: more than feeling comfortable on the couch, or enjoying their company. I wasneeded,desperately.

In bed, I cuddled up to Jon and fell asleep almost instantly. It was good to be held, in either my human form or my fox form. It was good to be with him, my m—

My man. My Jon.

Morning had brought with it new worries as I set these thoughts and experiences on the shelf to be taken out and looked at later. Now I had to face a difficult work situation, undercover, trying to get enough to dirt on the villain to help those he was using be safer, freer, and less afraid.

I hadn't met everyone, couldn't have sworn they were all afraid...but the place reeked of it. Not everyone was there by choice, if any of them were; I'd have stood up in court and sworn it.

Jon was making eggs and toast, and Eli was talking in a slightly subdued voice. Going over things in my head, I wasn't listening to what they discussed, but when I entered the kitchen, they fell silent.

I probably should have changed at work. I stood there self-consciously for a moment...before I realized neither of them cared what I was wearing. Jon was glad to see me, but feeling worried. It was in his eyes and the lines around them. Eli was embarrassed about last night, and hoping I didn't think less of him this morning because he'd cried.

It's always easier, I suppose, for a child to trust an animal than an adult, especially if some of his experiences with adults have been less than ideal.

"Is there any food left for me? I'm awfully hungry," I said, giving them both one of my brightest smiles. (It was true. While stress depresses my appetite, I had done a lot of shifting last night, and that always stokes my metabolism. My hunger was reaching almost unbearable levels, even though I'd had a snack last night.)

Relief touched Eli's gaze, and he took charge, pointing me towards the eggs, bringing me toast and papaya, and asking whether I wanted butter or jelly.

"Both, please," I replied. I really wanted some calories in me as fast as possible. This ravenous hunger inside felt like it would eat away at my stomach and then the rest of me, till there was nothing left and I was just a puddle of hunger on the floor.

Any lingering self-consciousness Eli may have felt vanished as he watched me eat. He stared in open admiration.

"Sorry," I managed, gasping a little. "I'm just really hungry."