02.03.09 - Taking Care Of

It is early enough in the morning that the dormitory should be full of sleeping, snoring hares. Except... this is the Long Patrol, so most of them have already cleared out for breakfast and their shifts! There are a few night-shifters who are passed out in the numerous bunkbeds, but these are few and far between. This makes the bunk room an ideal place for play, during the day. Except Micah isn't playing. He's under a bed, lying on his back and staring up at the wooden slats of the mattress support. There's a small gathering of Child Things beside him. A cup, a slice of bread, a hunk of cheese, and a few odds and ends. Pebbles, a ball, et cetera. His right paw rests palm-flat against the cool stone floor, while the other is gripped into a fist, a singed and ragged handkerchief crumpled in paw. Every now and again he brings the paw to his muzzle, eyes closing as he breathes in the scent.

Tameus saw a brief glimpse of Micah at breakfast; but mealtimes are kind of like a warzone and hard to maneuver, this leveret is learning, so it's not until afterward that he's able to go looking for his friend. This ends with Tam entering the dormitory, glancing around the beds and then /under/ them. The idea of playing under a bed is not alien to him, not with so much time spent in the infirmary. He edges over to Micah's bed-of-choice and slips under, on his belly, stretching out off to the side of the younger leveret and peering at him. "G' mornin' Mike!"

Micah's ear twitches and his whole body jerks at the sudden arrival and greeting. His eyes slit - and this close up, are his cheeks a little damp - and he twists, rolling over onto his side facing away from Tameus. "M'sleeping. Go 'way."

Tameus tilts his head, and leans closer. "Well now y'r not. What's all this stuff?" He reaches for the ball.

"S'mine, that's what." Grumpy pants!

Tameus crinkles up the top of his muzzle. "Yeah bu' what /'s/ 't. Why y' got 't wit' y' 'ere?" He lifts the ball, squeezing at it. "We c'n play wit' this if y' wann'."

"'Cause it's mine... 'n' /I'm/ here." Duh. Mike rolls back over to frown at Tam.

Tameus tilts his head questioningly at the other buck. ".. what's wron' Mike?"

Micah makes a little noise of frustration out his nose, then extends his paw. The palm is scarred and furless. "Gimme." Grabby-hand.

Tameus considers Micah's face, and then his face. He grasps the ball and brings it toward himself. "'ll give 't if y' tell me what's wron'."

"Yer /ruinin'/ it..." The leveret's teeth grit. "M'tryna pretend I'm not here and I /can't/ if yer here."

Tameus gives a few mild blinks and his nose twitches. "Why're y' pretendin' that..?"

"'Cause I don't /wanna/ be." And then there are tears standing in his eyes, and /that/ makes him grimace. "Go /away/ please." 'Please'. Matters are desperate!

Tameus hesitates. For a second it's almost like he /will/ leave, but he doesn't. He frowns at Micah and it's a helpless, sad little expression as he shakes his head. The hand not holding the ball reaches to grasp his friend's arm. "... bu' I don' wann' leave y' 'lone..."

A tear drips onto the cool stone. Micah scrunches up his face, a determined sort of expression. "I jus'... wanna... go /home/."

Tameus's eyes follow that little 'blip' of moisture. The next one to slide down Micah's cheek is caught by two of the older boy's fingers. He doesn't have anything to say. He edges in closer to curl his arms around Micah in a hug.

Micah's littler body shudders. His arm comes around Tam and his paw grips into his shirt. Twists at. His muzzle ducks forward into Tam's neck and he cries, silently, his shoulders hitching.

Tameus's ears tuck back and his muzzle lowers, drifting sideways a little, his cheek against the top of Micah's head. His grip tightens on the other leveret and he's silent for a while before mumbling decisively, "'ll take care'a y' now, okay?"

But Micah shoves at Tameus, without really trying to free himself. More the intent than the actual action. And then buries his muzzle in further, if possible. His words are muffled, but there's a keening sadness to them. ".. Bu' I don't /wan'/ you..."

Micah's paw thunks against Tam's back, the only way he can emphasize the unsatisfactory nature of the situation.

Tameus nuzzles into Micah's one ragged ear, eyes shut, making a soft humming sort of comfort-noise, not at all unlike the sounds Harper has made while comforting /him/. "I know," he mutters. ".. bu' 'm 'ere an' .. no'n else is." There's a note of questioning there.

There's something vaguely comfortable about that hum and being comforted like that. Some of the tension eases out of him. The hitches in his shoulders lessen and chances are he's going to remember that he /doesn't like/ Tam, pretty soon. For now, though, he just draws his knees upward, curling up.

Tameus settles in a way with his arms still snugly around the other buck, letting Micah lean into him a little. He nuzzles again and doesn't say anything. The hum becomes and /actual/ hum, finds a tune, murmured near Micah's mangled ear. A low snatch of his lullaby.

A tune which Micah has fortunately never heard, or this wouldn't be such a snuggly moment. For the moment he just listens, not moving and his ear perked.

Tameus pets his palm gently against Micah's upper back. The hum trails off and he mumbles, "'ll take care'a y'. Pr'mise."

Well, it was bound to happen. Micah breathes out a deeeeep sigh and disentangles himself, rolling away. And out from under the bed. He leans over to look under at Tam. His head is sideways. "I don't need ya to." And then he's gone from view. There's a little give as he lies down on the mattress above. He tucks one paw behind his head as he stares up at the bunkbed frame above him. With a thoughtful frown, he punches the mattress. His dislike will clearly transfer through the padding and Tam will feel it. Clearly.

Or not so clearly. As soon as Micah rolls away Tam huffs and starts to follow, so he's nearly out already when the punch lands. He stands up, a dustbunny clinging to the whiskers on one side of his face. The leveret crawls onto the lower bunkbed also, sitting next to Micah. ".. well 'm gonn' anyway. I /wann'/. I like y', see, an' y' need takin' care'a."

"I do /not/," Micah all but snaps. "I c'n take care a my /self/.." And with an almighty shove, attempts to remove Tam from the bed.

Tameus blinks. He sort of halfway falls off, catching onto one of the vertical pieces of the bedframe to stay up, and gives his friend a curious look. "... well okay. We c'n both take care'a y'."

That was not what he intended! Argh. He glowers at Tameus for a moment. And then downgrades it to a frown. "... Okay. /I'm/ gonna go take care a m'self... over /there/... and you're gonna take care a me from... /here/. Okay?" Frooown!

"... Mike," Tam says, thoughtful, then smiling more, "I think that kind'a .. won' work. Y' know?"

"Well let's try it firs'!" How is this kid still /smiling/?

"For... 'least 'til after, um. Lu-dinner! Then we'll, um. We'll see if it worked." Nod.

Tameus has the /tiniest/ pout on his face as he nods. "Okay. Aft' dinner," he agrees.

"... Yeah." And Micah hops off the bed... and makes a run for it.