Fic - "The Birds and the Bees (and the Flowers and the Trees)"
Title: The Birds and the Bees (and the Flowers and the Trees)
Author: colonel_bastard
Characters/Fandom: Tobias Beecher, Chris Keller, Ryan O'Reily, Megamind. OZ, Megamind.
Word Count: 4,020
Rating: R
Summary: When it's time for the kid to get The Talk, the task falls to the prison's resident lovebirds.
Warnings: Language, sexual content, horrible awkwardness.
Notes: I don't always write crossovers, but when I do, they're crazy. As soon as I saw Baby Megamind land in a jail yard, my brain went straight to my favorite prison: the Oswald State Correctional Facility! Which, you know, never had an official location, so why not Metro City? It's a really amazing set of characters, and I enjoyed imagining them charged with raising a strange blue alien child. As far as Minion is concerned, please forgive his total lack of participation in this story: for some reason, I always got the impression in the flashback that he stayed mute around the prison uncles, who all assume that he's just a weird fish in a weird bowl. Since this story is more from the adult's POV, Minion is kind of... ignored. Sorry, Minion. As far as the OZ timeline is concerned, I just imagine this all taking place in some weird limbo between seasons three and four. Title comes from this adorable song.
If anyone unfamiliar with OZ wants to get a feel for the characters, here's a series of clips taken from around the right time period in the series (just a little later than I'd like). I thought I'd only be able to find Beecher/Keller clips, but you even get a little Ryan O'Reily in this one! He's the snarky bastard with the gold cross necklace. BONUS O'REILY. Hope you enjoy it!
You know, maybe it says a lot about his masochistic streak, but Beecher can’t seem to read enough books about guys in prison. It started with Cool Hand Luke, sort of as a joke, but then came Papillon, and now he’s halfway through Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption. He tried to get Chris interested in this latest one--- arguing that it was a novella rather than a novel and would be a faster read--- but Keller just shrugged and said that the movie was, quote, “a fucking snooze fest,” end quote. So now Toby is on the top bunk reading about how Andy had to launder the money from the warden’s dirty schemes, and Chris is loafing around on the bottom bunk, half-dozing, complaining about how bored he is between fitful bouts of snoring.
Of course Chris sleeps all day. Toby keeps him busy all night.
That thought sends Beecher’s mind wandering to all sorts of nasty and unbecoming places until a rap on the pod’s doorframe snaps him out of his reverie. There’s Ryan O’Reily, grinning like the mick shark he is.
“Yo, lovebirds.”
“Yo,” Chris answers for them both.
When O’Reily doesn’t move on, Keller rolls up out of his bunk and to his full height. He takes a protective position at the foot of the bed, and Beecher watches the muscles between his shoulders flex as he crosses his arms. That’s the “alpha male” stance. In the doorway, O’Reily slouches and lowers his gaze. That’s the “submissive beta” stance. Beecher rolls his eyes. Like a fucking nature documentary.
“What’s shakin’, O’Reily?”
That devil smiles creeps back again, as Ryan gestures for someone else to approach. Keller’s already shaking his head, and Beecher leans up to see what’s wrong.
“Ryan,” he groans. “What the fuck.”
The Irishman is urging Blue into the pod, a tattooed hand pressing at his back. The kid is sort of smiling in his quiet way, his hands clamped around the fishbowl, his eyes wide and curious. Keller has more than once expressed how those eyes unnerve him--- it feels like they see too much sometimes, like this kid notices fucking everything, and worse, understands it all. Now he’s standing expectantly about three feet in front of a very cranky Keller, which is not a very safe place for anyone to be.
“What the hell’s going on here?” Chris demands.
“Go on, Blue,” O’Reily nudges the kid in the back. “Ask ‘em what you just asked me.”
And the kid pipes up right on cue: “What’s a tittyfuck?”
Keller rears back like a dog that just got sprayed by a skunk. Beecher’s father alarm explodes in his head and he says sharply, “Hey!” Scolding him like he would one of his own kids if he caught them using such language. If he ever heard Gary use that word he’d probably blow a gasket.
Most of them have done their best to shield Blue from some of their coarser habits, and besides, he’s always been taught not to swear (“at least not until you get pubes,” O’Reily had provided helpfully). Not that it matters much--- the kid hardly speaks anyway, preferring to silently observe and communicate largely through nods and shakes of his head. To hear him not only speak but speak so crudely is doubly shocking.
“Blue,” Beecher continues, his voice stern with disappointment. “Where did you learn that word?”
But the kid, sensing he must have done something wrong, is already clamming up. His hands tighten on the fishbowl and his posture shrinks into a timid huddle. Keller is looming over him like a fucking gargoyle--- which certainly isn’t helping matters--- and compelled by his tenacious instinct to be kind, Beecher hops down from the top bunk and shoulders his way in-between the big man and the small boy.
“It’s okay, we’re not mad at you,” he says, taking hold of the skinny little shoulders. “We’re just surprised, that’s all. It’s okay.”
“I’ll bet it was those Nazi fucks,” Chris grumbles.
It probably was. Most of the guys are willing to play nice with the kid, but Schillinger and his Aryan crew have been against him since day one. That thing is a goddamn freak! Vern had bellowed. I don’t want it living under the same roof as me! But they were up against the Italians (who love their families), the Muslims (who cherish all living things), the Homeboys (who didn’t feel like tangling with the Muslims), and the Bikers (who just wanted to piss the Aryans off), and they had to back down. Blue stayed, but the Nazis have been finding their own little ways to make him pay for it.
“Did Uncle Vern put you up to this?” Beecher asks, using the nickname that Schillinger despises so utterly.
Blue shakes his head.
“Was it Uncle James?”
Blue nods.
“Fuckin’ Robson,” Keller huffs.
“Language, Chris,” Toby says curtly.
“Saw ‘im sitting with the skinheads at lunch,” O’Reily jerks a thumb across the Em City floor towards the pack at the far end. “Whattaya wanna bet they were givin’ him a little vocabulary lesson?”
“Come on, Blue,” Toby grimaces, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You know you’re not supposed to be around those guys.”
The kid stares down at the floor. His voice is little more than a whisper.
“They said... they wanted to be friends.”
Keller, apparently unimpressed with scenes of unimaginable heartbreak, rolls his neck impatiently.
“So what’s the deal, O’Reily?” he demands. “Why’d ya bring him here? Ain’t our week. In fact...” He smiles that Killer Keller smile, nose crinkled in false joviality, teeth bared to show you that he’s got you figured out. “Isn’t it your week to watch him?”
“Sure, it’s my week to keep an eye on him,” O’Reily studies his fingernails, the picture of nonchalance. “But I never signed up for no Parenting 101 bullshit, and that includes telling the little chrome-dome about the birds and the bees.”
Keller snorts. “What makes you think we did?”
“Well, ole Toby here,” Ryan points a finger gun in Beecher’s direction. “He’s got kids already. And the two of you,” He points the other hand at Chris. “Are the only two people in this place who get laid on a consistent and consensual basis. Consider this your way of giving back to the community.”
“See, I think the kid could relate more to you,” Keller leers. “What with the blue balls and all.”
“No, Chris,” Beecher sighs. “He’s right.”
“Whaaat?” Keller groans. “Oh, come on, Toby, no...”
Turning to face him, Beecher lays his hands reassuringly on Chris’s broad shoulders, trying to soothe away his frown of intense displeasure.
“Look, it’s fine, you don’t have to stick around. It’s just--- if it’s time for the kid to get this talk, then it might as well be me. I mean, I wouldn’t trust anyone else in this place to do it. Would you? I don’t know. I’ll just--- I’ll feel better if I take care of it.”
He’s as tough as they come, but like all dragons, Keller has a soft spot. That soft spot just happens to be named Tobias Beecher. At his lover’s earnestness, he weakens visibly, the furrow in his brow fading into an expression of resignation.
“A’right, a’right,” he grumbles. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Toby grins. It’s kind of exciting. He’s got those butterflies in his stomach, that fatherly anxiety he thought he’d never feel again when the prison doors slammed shut behind him. He never saw his baby son Harry take his first steps, but he was there for Blue’s, and that’s left a mark on his heart that he can’t quite describe. He wasn’t done being a dad, goddamn it. This is how he keeps that part of himself alive, even in here, even in Oz.
“C’mere, kiddo,” he says kindly, and he sits down on the bottom bunk, patting the space beside him. “Sit next to me.”
If there’s one thing that Blue responds to more than anything else, it’s a smile. He gravitates towards affection, and Beecher’s very best Friendly Dad Smile works on him like a charm, sending him scurrying to comply. As he settles in with the fishbowl on his lap, Toby looks past him towards the door.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve already heard this one, Ryan.” He tosses his head. “Get lost.”
O’Reily gives him a smarmy salute. “Fight the good fight, Beech.” Cocky nod for Keller. “Later, K-Boy.”
Just to make sure he doesn’t get any ideas about eavesdropping, Chris kicks the pod door shut and leans against it, which also gives him a good solid excuse to keep his distance from the following conversation. With a sudden pang of guilt, Beecher realizes that he only ever had this talk with his oldest son, Gary. Holly was still too young when he was locked up. He wonders, sadly, who will teach her now.
“Okay, now, before I can answer your question,” he says, trying to keep his tone light and casual. “We need to talk about something else first. Blue, uh... how much do you know about sex?”
The kid’s only eight but he’s sharp as a fucking tack. He goes through books like flash paper, and not only that, he’s probably overhead enough to make some conclusions on the subject. Beecher just wants to get a feel for how much or how little he needs to explain in full.
“Sex,” Blue says thoughtfully. “Do you mean sexual intercourse?”
“Yes.”
“It is a physical act.” There he goes, the Little Scientist. “It is mostly for pleasure, but sometimes, it creates children.”
Keller shrugs and nods: sounds about right.
“That’s true,” Beecher chuckles. “And do you know how it works?”
“It requires two people. And being naked. Often in a bed.”
“Okay, Blue, that’s good. I’m just gonna explain it a little bit more, okay?” Toby clears his throat. God, this is nearly impossible. “Okay. So, you know that a man has a.... a penis, and a woman has.... a vagina.”
Blue raises his hand. “Is that the same as a pussy?”
Chris swallows his guffaw with a painful choking sound. Beecher hangs on to his game face for all he’s worth.
“Yep,” he says.
“Ah yes,” the kid nods sagely. “I saw the pictures in Uncle Ryan’s magazines.”
“Okay, well, great,” Beecher says loudly to cover Keller’s hopeless snickering. “Then you already know what it looks like. That’s good. You know how it’s different from a... from a... from what a man has.”
“Very different,” Blue agrees fervently. “How does it work?”
“Oh, well, you know,” Toby gestures vaguely and coughs. “I mean, when it comes to, uh, to sex... a woman is made that way so that she fits together with a man.”
A quick movement in his peripheral vision draws his gaze up to Keller’s face. Chris has tilted his head, his eyes narrowed with the consternation that hits Toby just two seconds later. Because, hello, neither of them is particularly qualified to be teaching sex as a strictly heterosexual enterprise. This is going to get extremely confusing extremely quickly if Beecher doesn’t nip it right in the bud.
“Okay, now, Blue?” He turns to catch the bright green eyes with his own. “What we’re gonna talk about now is... it’s the kind of sex that makes babies. I mean, not always, but....” He pushes a hand through his hair. “There’s all kinds of sex. This is just... the most basic. This is the simple version. Does that.... do you understand?”
It could not be more obvious that Blue does not understand. Beecher’s mind goes absurdly blank.
“It’s like tag,” Keller interjects.
They both turn to look at him. Tag is one of the few schoolyard games that the poor kid actually knows, thanks to their ongoing alliance with the O’Reily brothers. On the days when everybody is feeling nice and cooperative, they’ll meet in the gym and tear around the basketball court until they’re all exhausted--- Toby, Chris, and Ryan feeling like idiots while Blue and Cyril have the time of their lives.
“Tag?” Beecher echoes uncertainly.
“Sure,” Chris grins. “You got your freeze tag, you got your TV tag, you got your tunnel tag--- but first you gotta know how to play just plain old tag, right? Same idea.”
“Oh!” Blue perks up. “I see! Variations on a standard model!”
Keller forms index finger and thumb into an okay sign. “Bingo, kid.”
It’s a bittersweet moment for Beecher, who has always suspected that Chris would be great with kids. He’s so much like a kid himself, as crazy as that sounds, and it shows the most in situations like this, when he knows exactly what to say to get through. Keller and Blue speak the same language, the language of the lost boys, and it’s as endearing as it is sad.
“Okay,” Toby says, pressing on. “So we’re just gonna talk about the basic version.”
Blue nods. “Good.”
“Okay,” Toby says again, steeling his nerves. “Now. When a man and a woman are attracted to each other--- that is, when they love each other, when they have feelings for each other--- that’s when two people have sex.”
“Naked,” Keller reminds helpfully. “And, uh, in a bed. Usually.”
“That’s right. And when the man gets excited, his, uh... his... penis... uh, it gets hard.”
Those big green eyes get even bigger. “How does that happen?”
“Well, when the body gets excited--- you know, um, sexually excited--- a lot of blood rushes down to the... to down there. To prepare for sex. You see, when the penis is... hard... then it can go inside of a woman’s vagina.”
Now Beecher wonders if it’s possible for someone’s eyes to actually pop out of their head in amazement. Blue lowers his gaze to the floor, staring as though grappling with the profundity of this revelation.
“The penis becomes hard,” he murmurs. “And it goes inside of the vagina.”
“Yeah.” Toby squirms. His palms are sweating. “And if the man and the woman love each other very much, then... then it feels really good. It’s a special way for them to be close to each other. They fit together.”
And how often has Chris whispered that in his ear after lights-out--- we fit together, Toby, we were always meant to fit together. He doesn’t dare look up to the big man by the door now. He can feel the heat of Keller’s gaze on him from here.
“So, uh, when they do this,” he clears his throat and pushes onwards. “Then the man will put his--- his sperm--- inside of the woman. Sperm is something that comes from a man, from the p-penis. Men have sperm, and women have eggs. When a man puts his sperm into a woman, with, uh, with sex--- then sometimes the sperm will combine with an egg. And that’s how a baby is made.”
“So you need something from each,” Blue verifies. “Sperm from man plus egg from woman equals child?”
“That’s right. It, uh, it takes two.” Toby smiles nervously. “That’s pretty much it, kiddo. I mean as far as the basics are concerned. Do you.... I mean, does that make any sense? Questions?”
“One question,” Blue says. “What’s a tittyfuck?”
Keller laughs like a hyena, giddy and wild. Beecher smiles too.
“Well, that’s one of the variations. It’s not for making babies, it’s just, uh... that one’s just for fun.”
“Tittyfuck,” Blue repeats crisply, adding it to his mental catalogue. “A variation of sexual intercourse. Just for fun. Then I guess,” he adds, gesturing between the two men. “Your variation of sex is also just for fun?”
“Uh,” says Beecher, brain freezing.
“There is no woman in the equation,” Blue continues. “It can’t be for making babies.”
“Well, no.”
“So it’s just for fun.”
“I mean, uh,” Toby frowns. “I guess you could say that.”
“Whoa, now.” Keller says sternly. “Hold up.”
For the first time since the conversation began, he moves away from the door, steps right into their personal space and sinks down onto one knee in front of Blue, placing one hand firmly on the kid’s shoulder.
“Here’s the thing, Blue,” he says. “Sex is great. It feels great, it’s a lot of fun. But that’s not what it’s all about. Sex can be.... it can be very special. When it’s between two people who love each other....” He glances at Toby, like it’s instinct, like he can’t help himself. “It can be, uh... well, it’s a special way for them to share that love.” He looks back into Blue’s eyes, his tone almost urgent. “Look, a lot of people are gonna tell you that sex is just for fun and you should do it all the time with everyone you want. But let me tell you something, kid, from a guy who’s been around--- it’s a lot better when you’re with somebody you really care about. I mean---”
Keller’s no good with words. He expresses himself through action, through fighting, through fucking. He clearly has no idea how to explain this truth to this boy. Three marriages--- four, if you count Bonnie, who he married twice--- and just as many divorces; not to mention the twisted dance he did with Schillinger back in his Lardner days. When he says he’s been around, he means it.
“Listen, Blue,” he says with effort. “I’m just gonna say... don’t rush it. When you find someone that you really love--- someone that really loves you--- that’s the best way to do it. Okay? That’s all.”
Blue looks very contemplative. “So for you and Uncle Toby, sex is an act of love.”
When Chris smiles, Toby’s heart just about falls to pieces.
“Yeah, it is,” he says. “And that’s the way it should be.”
It’s insufficient data. Blue persists. “How will I know when I’ve found the right person?”
“Oh ho,” Keller gives a short, rueful laugh, his eyes finding Beecher’s again. “You’ll know. You’ll feel it, right here.” He thumps a fist over his heart, then taps an index finger against the same point on the boy’s skinny chest. “It’s when you catch yourself doing all kinds of crazy shit just to be with ‘em, to be close to ‘em. When you’d put yourself in danger just to protect ‘em. And no matter how bad they hurt you, you still want ‘em, more than anyone else. They could break your heart a million times. It don’t matter. That’s the real deal.”
Funny how this kid has brought out the best in them. Something about Blue’s naive sweetness has somehow managed to soften the edges of life in here, allowing everyone to let their guard down a tiny bit more than usual, to see each other not just as inmates, but as fellow human beings. He gives them an excuse to say things that might have otherwise remained unsaid, and when Keller sneaks another glance at him, Beecher nods to let him know: I understand.
“Hmm,” Blue considers the new information. “It sounds.... messy.”
Chris rises back to his full height and steps back, grinning.
“All the best things in life are.”
Now would probably be the best time to end the conversation, before Keller has a chance to say anything too obscene. When it comes to the subject of sex, Keller’s ability to filter himself is practically non-existent--- Beecher is honestly amazed at how well he’s behaved himself so far, and he doesn’t want to push his luck. Time to get the kid out of the pod before Chris switches into full horndog mode. C’mon, Toby, he’ll be purring within minutes. All this talkin’ got me pretty inspired.
“Annnnd thus endeth the lesson,” Beecher announces, then amends, “Unless you have any more questions.”
Blue raises his hand and Toby, dreading what it could be, points at him.
“If neither of you has a vagina,” the kid wonders, “how do you achieve sexual intercourse?”
And Toby’s brain goes: nope. Not today. He’s at his limit for awkward explanations, and even though Keller looks like he might actually want to take a shot at this one, Beecher just isn’t having it.
“You know what?” he says. “I think that’s a talk for another day. This is a lot to learn all at once.”
“No it isn’t!” Blue insists adorably, aggravatingly. “I have a very high capacity for knowledge!”
“Well,” Toby scrambles for a distraction. “If you’re feeling up to a mental challenge... you could always... try to beat Uncle Ryan at chess!”
Works like a charm. Blue loves to play games, and his eyes light up in excitement at the very thought.
“I almost had him last time!” he reminds them eagerly.
“You sure did, kiddo!” Beecher urges him to his feet, pointing through the glass towards the common area. “Look, he’s already sitting at the chess table. Go out there and show him who’s boss!”
The kid strikes a theatrical pose, one fist planted on his hip, the other arm hugging the fishbowl.
“I will.”
He’s halfway out the door when he stops and turns back to face them.
“Thanks, Uncle Toby, Uncle Chris. That was very infor-may-tive.”
Then he’s scampering off to harass O’Reily, who has privately confessed to Beecher that he’s not throwing the chess games like everyone suspects he does--- Blue really is that smart. Chris lets the door click shut, his gaze still on their little charge as he dashes away.
“So,” he smirks. “Think the kid’s gonna turn out to be a fag?”
“I dunno,” Beecher rolls up to his feet and saunters over to stand next to him. “He seemed pretty interested in how a pussy works.”
Glancing to his right, he studies Keller’s profile, the slight twitch of his lips as he remembers Blue’s enthusiasm. He speaks again, his voice quiet.
“That was really good of you, talking to him like that. About not rushing it.” He looks back out at Oz, sighs. “I don’t--- I can’t even remember if I said that to Gary. I was so wrapped up in--- in the mechanics of it. I didn’t even think about---”
“Hey, forget it,” Chris shakes his head. He doesn’t like to dwell in the past. “We all got the lessons that we learned the hardest. That one’s mine, so I figured I could at least give the kid a head’s up.” Now it’s his turn to look sideways at Beecher, his gaze keen. “I’d have been happy with just you, Toby. That’s the truth.”
Beecher shivers in the best way, and he leans in contentedly when Keller loops an arm around his shoulders. Across the common room he can see Blue and O’Reily setting up their chess game. Blue, as usual, has chosen the black pieces. He thinks they’re more dramatic.
“I tell you one thing,” Toby remarks, watching the strange blue child. “I will be amazed if that kid doesn’t grow up to be some kind of criminal mastermind.”
“And just think,” Keller chuckles. “We’d all be so proud of him!”
__________end.
Author: colonel_bastard
Characters/Fandom: Tobias Beecher, Chris Keller, Ryan O'Reily, Megamind. OZ, Megamind.
Word Count: 4,020
Rating: R
Summary: When it's time for the kid to get The Talk, the task falls to the prison's resident lovebirds.
Warnings: Language, sexual content, horrible awkwardness.
Notes: I don't always write crossovers, but when I do, they're crazy. As soon as I saw Baby Megamind land in a jail yard, my brain went straight to my favorite prison: the Oswald State Correctional Facility! Which, you know, never had an official location, so why not Metro City? It's a really amazing set of characters, and I enjoyed imagining them charged with raising a strange blue alien child. As far as Minion is concerned, please forgive his total lack of participation in this story: for some reason, I always got the impression in the flashback that he stayed mute around the prison uncles, who all assume that he's just a weird fish in a weird bowl. Since this story is more from the adult's POV, Minion is kind of... ignored. Sorry, Minion. As far as the OZ timeline is concerned, I just imagine this all taking place in some weird limbo between seasons three and four. Title comes from this adorable song.
If anyone unfamiliar with OZ wants to get a feel for the characters, here's a series of clips taken from around the right time period in the series (just a little later than I'd like). I thought I'd only be able to find Beecher/Keller clips, but you even get a little Ryan O'Reily in this one! He's the snarky bastard with the gold cross necklace. BONUS O'REILY. Hope you enjoy it!
You know, maybe it says a lot about his masochistic streak, but Beecher can’t seem to read enough books about guys in prison. It started with Cool Hand Luke, sort of as a joke, but then came Papillon, and now he’s halfway through Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption. He tried to get Chris interested in this latest one--- arguing that it was a novella rather than a novel and would be a faster read--- but Keller just shrugged and said that the movie was, quote, “a fucking snooze fest,” end quote. So now Toby is on the top bunk reading about how Andy had to launder the money from the warden’s dirty schemes, and Chris is loafing around on the bottom bunk, half-dozing, complaining about how bored he is between fitful bouts of snoring.
Of course Chris sleeps all day. Toby keeps him busy all night.
That thought sends Beecher’s mind wandering to all sorts of nasty and unbecoming places until a rap on the pod’s doorframe snaps him out of his reverie. There’s Ryan O’Reily, grinning like the mick shark he is.
“Yo, lovebirds.”
“Yo,” Chris answers for them both.
When O’Reily doesn’t move on, Keller rolls up out of his bunk and to his full height. He takes a protective position at the foot of the bed, and Beecher watches the muscles between his shoulders flex as he crosses his arms. That’s the “alpha male” stance. In the doorway, O’Reily slouches and lowers his gaze. That’s the “submissive beta” stance. Beecher rolls his eyes. Like a fucking nature documentary.
“What’s shakin’, O’Reily?”
That devil smiles creeps back again, as Ryan gestures for someone else to approach. Keller’s already shaking his head, and Beecher leans up to see what’s wrong.
“Ryan,” he groans. “What the fuck.”
The Irishman is urging Blue into the pod, a tattooed hand pressing at his back. The kid is sort of smiling in his quiet way, his hands clamped around the fishbowl, his eyes wide and curious. Keller has more than once expressed how those eyes unnerve him--- it feels like they see too much sometimes, like this kid notices fucking everything, and worse, understands it all. Now he’s standing expectantly about three feet in front of a very cranky Keller, which is not a very safe place for anyone to be.
“What the hell’s going on here?” Chris demands.
“Go on, Blue,” O’Reily nudges the kid in the back. “Ask ‘em what you just asked me.”
And the kid pipes up right on cue: “What’s a tittyfuck?”
Keller rears back like a dog that just got sprayed by a skunk. Beecher’s father alarm explodes in his head and he says sharply, “Hey!” Scolding him like he would one of his own kids if he caught them using such language. If he ever heard Gary use that word he’d probably blow a gasket.
Most of them have done their best to shield Blue from some of their coarser habits, and besides, he’s always been taught not to swear (“at least not until you get pubes,” O’Reily had provided helpfully). Not that it matters much--- the kid hardly speaks anyway, preferring to silently observe and communicate largely through nods and shakes of his head. To hear him not only speak but speak so crudely is doubly shocking.
“Blue,” Beecher continues, his voice stern with disappointment. “Where did you learn that word?”
But the kid, sensing he must have done something wrong, is already clamming up. His hands tighten on the fishbowl and his posture shrinks into a timid huddle. Keller is looming over him like a fucking gargoyle--- which certainly isn’t helping matters--- and compelled by his tenacious instinct to be kind, Beecher hops down from the top bunk and shoulders his way in-between the big man and the small boy.
“It’s okay, we’re not mad at you,” he says, taking hold of the skinny little shoulders. “We’re just surprised, that’s all. It’s okay.”
“I’ll bet it was those Nazi fucks,” Chris grumbles.
It probably was. Most of the guys are willing to play nice with the kid, but Schillinger and his Aryan crew have been against him since day one. That thing is a goddamn freak! Vern had bellowed. I don’t want it living under the same roof as me! But they were up against the Italians (who love their families), the Muslims (who cherish all living things), the Homeboys (who didn’t feel like tangling with the Muslims), and the Bikers (who just wanted to piss the Aryans off), and they had to back down. Blue stayed, but the Nazis have been finding their own little ways to make him pay for it.
“Did Uncle Vern put you up to this?” Beecher asks, using the nickname that Schillinger despises so utterly.
Blue shakes his head.
“Was it Uncle James?”
Blue nods.
“Fuckin’ Robson,” Keller huffs.
“Language, Chris,” Toby says curtly.
“Saw ‘im sitting with the skinheads at lunch,” O’Reily jerks a thumb across the Em City floor towards the pack at the far end. “Whattaya wanna bet they were givin’ him a little vocabulary lesson?”
“Come on, Blue,” Toby grimaces, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You know you’re not supposed to be around those guys.”
The kid stares down at the floor. His voice is little more than a whisper.
“They said... they wanted to be friends.”
Keller, apparently unimpressed with scenes of unimaginable heartbreak, rolls his neck impatiently.
“So what’s the deal, O’Reily?” he demands. “Why’d ya bring him here? Ain’t our week. In fact...” He smiles that Killer Keller smile, nose crinkled in false joviality, teeth bared to show you that he’s got you figured out. “Isn’t it your week to watch him?”
“Sure, it’s my week to keep an eye on him,” O’Reily studies his fingernails, the picture of nonchalance. “But I never signed up for no Parenting 101 bullshit, and that includes telling the little chrome-dome about the birds and the bees.”
Keller snorts. “What makes you think we did?”
“Well, ole Toby here,” Ryan points a finger gun in Beecher’s direction. “He’s got kids already. And the two of you,” He points the other hand at Chris. “Are the only two people in this place who get laid on a consistent and consensual basis. Consider this your way of giving back to the community.”
“See, I think the kid could relate more to you,” Keller leers. “What with the blue balls and all.”
“No, Chris,” Beecher sighs. “He’s right.”
“Whaaat?” Keller groans. “Oh, come on, Toby, no...”
Turning to face him, Beecher lays his hands reassuringly on Chris’s broad shoulders, trying to soothe away his frown of intense displeasure.
“Look, it’s fine, you don’t have to stick around. It’s just--- if it’s time for the kid to get this talk, then it might as well be me. I mean, I wouldn’t trust anyone else in this place to do it. Would you? I don’t know. I’ll just--- I’ll feel better if I take care of it.”
He’s as tough as they come, but like all dragons, Keller has a soft spot. That soft spot just happens to be named Tobias Beecher. At his lover’s earnestness, he weakens visibly, the furrow in his brow fading into an expression of resignation.
“A’right, a’right,” he grumbles. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Toby grins. It’s kind of exciting. He’s got those butterflies in his stomach, that fatherly anxiety he thought he’d never feel again when the prison doors slammed shut behind him. He never saw his baby son Harry take his first steps, but he was there for Blue’s, and that’s left a mark on his heart that he can’t quite describe. He wasn’t done being a dad, goddamn it. This is how he keeps that part of himself alive, even in here, even in Oz.
“C’mere, kiddo,” he says kindly, and he sits down on the bottom bunk, patting the space beside him. “Sit next to me.”
If there’s one thing that Blue responds to more than anything else, it’s a smile. He gravitates towards affection, and Beecher’s very best Friendly Dad Smile works on him like a charm, sending him scurrying to comply. As he settles in with the fishbowl on his lap, Toby looks past him towards the door.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve already heard this one, Ryan.” He tosses his head. “Get lost.”
O’Reily gives him a smarmy salute. “Fight the good fight, Beech.” Cocky nod for Keller. “Later, K-Boy.”
Just to make sure he doesn’t get any ideas about eavesdropping, Chris kicks the pod door shut and leans against it, which also gives him a good solid excuse to keep his distance from the following conversation. With a sudden pang of guilt, Beecher realizes that he only ever had this talk with his oldest son, Gary. Holly was still too young when he was locked up. He wonders, sadly, who will teach her now.
“Okay, now, before I can answer your question,” he says, trying to keep his tone light and casual. “We need to talk about something else first. Blue, uh... how much do you know about sex?”
The kid’s only eight but he’s sharp as a fucking tack. He goes through books like flash paper, and not only that, he’s probably overhead enough to make some conclusions on the subject. Beecher just wants to get a feel for how much or how little he needs to explain in full.
“Sex,” Blue says thoughtfully. “Do you mean sexual intercourse?”
“Yes.”
“It is a physical act.” There he goes, the Little Scientist. “It is mostly for pleasure, but sometimes, it creates children.”
Keller shrugs and nods: sounds about right.
“That’s true,” Beecher chuckles. “And do you know how it works?”
“It requires two people. And being naked. Often in a bed.”
“Okay, Blue, that’s good. I’m just gonna explain it a little bit more, okay?” Toby clears his throat. God, this is nearly impossible. “Okay. So, you know that a man has a.... a penis, and a woman has.... a vagina.”
Blue raises his hand. “Is that the same as a pussy?”
Chris swallows his guffaw with a painful choking sound. Beecher hangs on to his game face for all he’s worth.
“Yep,” he says.
“Ah yes,” the kid nods sagely. “I saw the pictures in Uncle Ryan’s magazines.”
“Okay, well, great,” Beecher says loudly to cover Keller’s hopeless snickering. “Then you already know what it looks like. That’s good. You know how it’s different from a... from a... from what a man has.”
“Very different,” Blue agrees fervently. “How does it work?”
“Oh, well, you know,” Toby gestures vaguely and coughs. “I mean, when it comes to, uh, to sex... a woman is made that way so that she fits together with a man.”
A quick movement in his peripheral vision draws his gaze up to Keller’s face. Chris has tilted his head, his eyes narrowed with the consternation that hits Toby just two seconds later. Because, hello, neither of them is particularly qualified to be teaching sex as a strictly heterosexual enterprise. This is going to get extremely confusing extremely quickly if Beecher doesn’t nip it right in the bud.
“Okay, now, Blue?” He turns to catch the bright green eyes with his own. “What we’re gonna talk about now is... it’s the kind of sex that makes babies. I mean, not always, but....” He pushes a hand through his hair. “There’s all kinds of sex. This is just... the most basic. This is the simple version. Does that.... do you understand?”
It could not be more obvious that Blue does not understand. Beecher’s mind goes absurdly blank.
“It’s like tag,” Keller interjects.
They both turn to look at him. Tag is one of the few schoolyard games that the poor kid actually knows, thanks to their ongoing alliance with the O’Reily brothers. On the days when everybody is feeling nice and cooperative, they’ll meet in the gym and tear around the basketball court until they’re all exhausted--- Toby, Chris, and Ryan feeling like idiots while Blue and Cyril have the time of their lives.
“Tag?” Beecher echoes uncertainly.
“Sure,” Chris grins. “You got your freeze tag, you got your TV tag, you got your tunnel tag--- but first you gotta know how to play just plain old tag, right? Same idea.”
“Oh!” Blue perks up. “I see! Variations on a standard model!”
Keller forms index finger and thumb into an okay sign. “Bingo, kid.”
It’s a bittersweet moment for Beecher, who has always suspected that Chris would be great with kids. He’s so much like a kid himself, as crazy as that sounds, and it shows the most in situations like this, when he knows exactly what to say to get through. Keller and Blue speak the same language, the language of the lost boys, and it’s as endearing as it is sad.
“Okay,” Toby says, pressing on. “So we’re just gonna talk about the basic version.”
Blue nods. “Good.”
“Okay,” Toby says again, steeling his nerves. “Now. When a man and a woman are attracted to each other--- that is, when they love each other, when they have feelings for each other--- that’s when two people have sex.”
“Naked,” Keller reminds helpfully. “And, uh, in a bed. Usually.”
“That’s right. And when the man gets excited, his, uh... his... penis... uh, it gets hard.”
Those big green eyes get even bigger. “How does that happen?”
“Well, when the body gets excited--- you know, um, sexually excited--- a lot of blood rushes down to the... to down there. To prepare for sex. You see, when the penis is... hard... then it can go inside of a woman’s vagina.”
Now Beecher wonders if it’s possible for someone’s eyes to actually pop out of their head in amazement. Blue lowers his gaze to the floor, staring as though grappling with the profundity of this revelation.
“The penis becomes hard,” he murmurs. “And it goes inside of the vagina.”
“Yeah.” Toby squirms. His palms are sweating. “And if the man and the woman love each other very much, then... then it feels really good. It’s a special way for them to be close to each other. They fit together.”
And how often has Chris whispered that in his ear after lights-out--- we fit together, Toby, we were always meant to fit together. He doesn’t dare look up to the big man by the door now. He can feel the heat of Keller’s gaze on him from here.
“So, uh, when they do this,” he clears his throat and pushes onwards. “Then the man will put his--- his sperm--- inside of the woman. Sperm is something that comes from a man, from the p-penis. Men have sperm, and women have eggs. When a man puts his sperm into a woman, with, uh, with sex--- then sometimes the sperm will combine with an egg. And that’s how a baby is made.”
“So you need something from each,” Blue verifies. “Sperm from man plus egg from woman equals child?”
“That’s right. It, uh, it takes two.” Toby smiles nervously. “That’s pretty much it, kiddo. I mean as far as the basics are concerned. Do you.... I mean, does that make any sense? Questions?”
“One question,” Blue says. “What’s a tittyfuck?”
Keller laughs like a hyena, giddy and wild. Beecher smiles too.
“Well, that’s one of the variations. It’s not for making babies, it’s just, uh... that one’s just for fun.”
“Tittyfuck,” Blue repeats crisply, adding it to his mental catalogue. “A variation of sexual intercourse. Just for fun. Then I guess,” he adds, gesturing between the two men. “Your variation of sex is also just for fun?”
“Uh,” says Beecher, brain freezing.
“There is no woman in the equation,” Blue continues. “It can’t be for making babies.”
“Well, no.”
“So it’s just for fun.”
“I mean, uh,” Toby frowns. “I guess you could say that.”
“Whoa, now.” Keller says sternly. “Hold up.”
For the first time since the conversation began, he moves away from the door, steps right into their personal space and sinks down onto one knee in front of Blue, placing one hand firmly on the kid’s shoulder.
“Here’s the thing, Blue,” he says. “Sex is great. It feels great, it’s a lot of fun. But that’s not what it’s all about. Sex can be.... it can be very special. When it’s between two people who love each other....” He glances at Toby, like it’s instinct, like he can’t help himself. “It can be, uh... well, it’s a special way for them to share that love.” He looks back into Blue’s eyes, his tone almost urgent. “Look, a lot of people are gonna tell you that sex is just for fun and you should do it all the time with everyone you want. But let me tell you something, kid, from a guy who’s been around--- it’s a lot better when you’re with somebody you really care about. I mean---”
Keller’s no good with words. He expresses himself through action, through fighting, through fucking. He clearly has no idea how to explain this truth to this boy. Three marriages--- four, if you count Bonnie, who he married twice--- and just as many divorces; not to mention the twisted dance he did with Schillinger back in his Lardner days. When he says he’s been around, he means it.
“Listen, Blue,” he says with effort. “I’m just gonna say... don’t rush it. When you find someone that you really love--- someone that really loves you--- that’s the best way to do it. Okay? That’s all.”
Blue looks very contemplative. “So for you and Uncle Toby, sex is an act of love.”
When Chris smiles, Toby’s heart just about falls to pieces.
“Yeah, it is,” he says. “And that’s the way it should be.”
It’s insufficient data. Blue persists. “How will I know when I’ve found the right person?”
“Oh ho,” Keller gives a short, rueful laugh, his eyes finding Beecher’s again. “You’ll know. You’ll feel it, right here.” He thumps a fist over his heart, then taps an index finger against the same point on the boy’s skinny chest. “It’s when you catch yourself doing all kinds of crazy shit just to be with ‘em, to be close to ‘em. When you’d put yourself in danger just to protect ‘em. And no matter how bad they hurt you, you still want ‘em, more than anyone else. They could break your heart a million times. It don’t matter. That’s the real deal.”
Funny how this kid has brought out the best in them. Something about Blue’s naive sweetness has somehow managed to soften the edges of life in here, allowing everyone to let their guard down a tiny bit more than usual, to see each other not just as inmates, but as fellow human beings. He gives them an excuse to say things that might have otherwise remained unsaid, and when Keller sneaks another glance at him, Beecher nods to let him know: I understand.
“Hmm,” Blue considers the new information. “It sounds.... messy.”
Chris rises back to his full height and steps back, grinning.
“All the best things in life are.”
Now would probably be the best time to end the conversation, before Keller has a chance to say anything too obscene. When it comes to the subject of sex, Keller’s ability to filter himself is practically non-existent--- Beecher is honestly amazed at how well he’s behaved himself so far, and he doesn’t want to push his luck. Time to get the kid out of the pod before Chris switches into full horndog mode. C’mon, Toby, he’ll be purring within minutes. All this talkin’ got me pretty inspired.
“Annnnd thus endeth the lesson,” Beecher announces, then amends, “Unless you have any more questions.”
Blue raises his hand and Toby, dreading what it could be, points at him.
“If neither of you has a vagina,” the kid wonders, “how do you achieve sexual intercourse?”
And Toby’s brain goes: nope. Not today. He’s at his limit for awkward explanations, and even though Keller looks like he might actually want to take a shot at this one, Beecher just isn’t having it.
“You know what?” he says. “I think that’s a talk for another day. This is a lot to learn all at once.”
“No it isn’t!” Blue insists adorably, aggravatingly. “I have a very high capacity for knowledge!”
“Well,” Toby scrambles for a distraction. “If you’re feeling up to a mental challenge... you could always... try to beat Uncle Ryan at chess!”
Works like a charm. Blue loves to play games, and his eyes light up in excitement at the very thought.
“I almost had him last time!” he reminds them eagerly.
“You sure did, kiddo!” Beecher urges him to his feet, pointing through the glass towards the common area. “Look, he’s already sitting at the chess table. Go out there and show him who’s boss!”
The kid strikes a theatrical pose, one fist planted on his hip, the other arm hugging the fishbowl.
“I will.”
He’s halfway out the door when he stops and turns back to face them.
“Thanks, Uncle Toby, Uncle Chris. That was very infor-may-tive.”
Then he’s scampering off to harass O’Reily, who has privately confessed to Beecher that he’s not throwing the chess games like everyone suspects he does--- Blue really is that smart. Chris lets the door click shut, his gaze still on their little charge as he dashes away.
“So,” he smirks. “Think the kid’s gonna turn out to be a fag?”
“I dunno,” Beecher rolls up to his feet and saunters over to stand next to him. “He seemed pretty interested in how a pussy works.”
Glancing to his right, he studies Keller’s profile, the slight twitch of his lips as he remembers Blue’s enthusiasm. He speaks again, his voice quiet.
“That was really good of you, talking to him like that. About not rushing it.” He looks back out at Oz, sighs. “I don’t--- I can’t even remember if I said that to Gary. I was so wrapped up in--- in the mechanics of it. I didn’t even think about---”
“Hey, forget it,” Chris shakes his head. He doesn’t like to dwell in the past. “We all got the lessons that we learned the hardest. That one’s mine, so I figured I could at least give the kid a head’s up.” Now it’s his turn to look sideways at Beecher, his gaze keen. “I’d have been happy with just you, Toby. That’s the truth.”
Beecher shivers in the best way, and he leans in contentedly when Keller loops an arm around his shoulders. Across the common room he can see Blue and O’Reily setting up their chess game. Blue, as usual, has chosen the black pieces. He thinks they’re more dramatic.
“I tell you one thing,” Toby remarks, watching the strange blue child. “I will be amazed if that kid doesn’t grow up to be some kind of criminal mastermind.”
“And just think,” Keller chuckles. “We’d all be so proud of him!”
__________end.