Under Streetlights-Chapter Eighteen
Title: Under Streetlights
Rating: PG-NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, never happened.
Summary: Ville's a streetwalker who thinks this is as good as life gets... Until he meets Bam.
AN: Now that I've run the word 'Walrus' into the ground. I'm sorry, Phil.
Ville woke up late the next morning, the sun straining in against the purple curtains hanging from the window. The blankets pulled up tightly around him smelled like Bam, and all he wanted to do was nestle deeper down into them and never have to face the world again.
“Ville!” someone sang. “Come down here! There’s food! Better come and get it before Phil digs in.”
There was good natured chuckling. Reluctantly, he climbed out of his nest and walked downstairs.
Sitting at the dining room table was what appeared to be a walrus. A walrus drinking from a coffee mug and reading the paper. The boy froze, wondering if this was still the same house from last night, when April popped her head in from the kitchen.
“Take a seat anywhere,” she chirped. Carefully, he pulled out a seat and sat down. The walrus smiled briefly over the edge of the paper before going back to his coffee. Okay, so apparently he wasn’t going to eat Ville. Did they eat people anyway? Well, if one was going to sit at the dining room table, it might not but---.
His train of thought was interrupted when he was presented with a plate of pancakes, three strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, a mug of hot chocolate, a glass of orange juice, and a muffin.
“Jeeze, Ape, we’re going to have to roll the kid out of there you try and make him eat all that.” Walrus said good naturedly.
“Of course he doesn’t have to eat all of that! I just didn’t know what he’d like, so I made a little bit of everything.” She rumpled Ville’s already sleep messy hair.
“Thank you,” he said softly, taking a sip of the orange juice. The Walrus caught his eye and looked heavenward. It was all the boy could do not to chuckle. He didn’t think it would be polite to laugh at a woman who was taking him into her home and feeding him.
Ape served the Walrus and sat down herself.
“Phil, are you done with the paper?” she asked, holding her hand out. Walrus had a name. It was Phil. Phil the Walrus. It didn’t quite have the ring of Shamu the Whale, but Ville thought it would do.
“Yeah,” he handed the paper across the table. The boy silently ate, managing no more than two pancakes, a strip of bacon and a few bites of eggs. His stomach felt full to the point of bursting, and he looked mournfully down at his plate. If only Jonne was here, he could have helped.
“Don’t worry, honey, you don’t have to finish.” Before Ville could say or do anything, she whisked the plates away. Phil gave him another sympathetic look. He gave a shy grin in return before looking down at the table.
“Don’t worry, she’ll calm down.” He said softly. It made the boy smile even wider. “So, Bam didn’t tell us much.” Phil began as his wife sat down.
“Tell us about yourself, Ville.”
“Phil---,” his wife put a warning hand on his as the fifteen year old went pale.
“I-I---,”
“Need a shower!” April spat out before Phil could ask anything else. “He needs a shower and some clean clothes, so I’m taking him upstairs.” She took the bird thin wrist in her hand and tugged him upstairs.
“Thank you,” Ville breathed a sigh of relief.
“I didn’t think that you were ready.” She said softly, tucking back a lock of his hair. “You don’t have to say anything until you’re ready.”
Rating: PG-NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, never happened.
Summary: Ville's a streetwalker who thinks this is as good as life gets... Until he meets Bam.
AN: Now that I've run the word 'Walrus' into the ground. I'm sorry, Phil.
Ville woke up late the next morning, the sun straining in against the purple curtains hanging from the window. The blankets pulled up tightly around him smelled like Bam, and all he wanted to do was nestle deeper down into them and never have to face the world again.
“Ville!” someone sang. “Come down here! There’s food! Better come and get it before Phil digs in.”
There was good natured chuckling. Reluctantly, he climbed out of his nest and walked downstairs.
Sitting at the dining room table was what appeared to be a walrus. A walrus drinking from a coffee mug and reading the paper. The boy froze, wondering if this was still the same house from last night, when April popped her head in from the kitchen.
“Take a seat anywhere,” she chirped. Carefully, he pulled out a seat and sat down. The walrus smiled briefly over the edge of the paper before going back to his coffee. Okay, so apparently he wasn’t going to eat Ville. Did they eat people anyway? Well, if one was going to sit at the dining room table, it might not but---.
His train of thought was interrupted when he was presented with a plate of pancakes, three strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, a mug of hot chocolate, a glass of orange juice, and a muffin.
“Jeeze, Ape, we’re going to have to roll the kid out of there you try and make him eat all that.” Walrus said good naturedly.
“Of course he doesn’t have to eat all of that! I just didn’t know what he’d like, so I made a little bit of everything.” She rumpled Ville’s already sleep messy hair.
“Thank you,” he said softly, taking a sip of the orange juice. The Walrus caught his eye and looked heavenward. It was all the boy could do not to chuckle. He didn’t think it would be polite to laugh at a woman who was taking him into her home and feeding him.
Ape served the Walrus and sat down herself.
“Phil, are you done with the paper?” she asked, holding her hand out. Walrus had a name. It was Phil. Phil the Walrus. It didn’t quite have the ring of Shamu the Whale, but Ville thought it would do.
“Yeah,” he handed the paper across the table. The boy silently ate, managing no more than two pancakes, a strip of bacon and a few bites of eggs. His stomach felt full to the point of bursting, and he looked mournfully down at his plate. If only Jonne was here, he could have helped.
“Don’t worry, honey, you don’t have to finish.” Before Ville could say or do anything, she whisked the plates away. Phil gave him another sympathetic look. He gave a shy grin in return before looking down at the table.
“Don’t worry, she’ll calm down.” He said softly. It made the boy smile even wider. “So, Bam didn’t tell us much.” Phil began as his wife sat down.
“Tell us about yourself, Ville.”
“Phil---,” his wife put a warning hand on his as the fifteen year old went pale.
“I-I---,”
“Need a shower!” April spat out before Phil could ask anything else. “He needs a shower and some clean clothes, so I’m taking him upstairs.” She took the bird thin wrist in her hand and tugged him upstairs.
“Thank you,” Ville breathed a sigh of relief.
“I didn’t think that you were ready.” She said softly, tucking back a lock of his hair. “You don’t have to say anything until you’re ready.”