Dirty Little Secrets
Focus: Lysander/Schindler
One-shot
The sun was just beginning to rise upon the horizon, splashing light blue at the edge of the purple sky. Seven hours had passed since the excitement they'd encountered in Missouri. It all seemed like a bad memory, quickly fading in the distance along with that little one horse town that had tried to ensnare them.
In the back seat, Bridget slept soundly, curled up beneath a small white blanket and using buddy as a pillow. In the front seat, the two men stared blankly at the never changing expanse of nothing. A plastic bag on the center seat was filled with an empty can of coke as they both fought against their exhaustion and struggled to go forward.
"The next town, we're pulling over" Schindler muttered, his head leaning against the passenger window. Lysander grunted something that was probably an affirmation, but if it wasn't the red head was too tired to rise to the challenge.
They drove on, well into Arkansas before they finally found a town with a motel. It was a small blessing that the motel had a diner. The road weary travelers were famished.
"We'll get some food and rest for a few hours" Lysander said, pulling into the slightly dated parking lot. "If we make good time, we should be in New Orleans by late tonight"
"Yeah? Alright."
Lysander nodded and left to reserve a room. The kid busied himself with rousing Bridget and the others out of the backseat. The little girl was barely awake on her feet, and in an awkward moment of kindness, Schindler scooped the drowsy girl up into his arms.
Schindler felt bad that Pico had to wait in the truck, but an undead franken-penguin just drew too much unnecessary attention. So with simple instructions to lay low and not let anyone see him, he locked the little guy in the truck and followed after Lysander with the girl and the dog.
The room was small. Barely managing to squeeze two queen size beds, a tv and a bathroom into it's stained walls. There was a mirror, opposite the bathroom and a small nook for keeping their luggage. A roach motel, that's what these backwater places were called.
But neither man was in a state to actually care. Schindler settled Bridget into sleep and collapsed into the opposite bed immediately after. It wasn't long before Lysander had done the same next to Bridget. His large, wolf form taking up most of the bed.
And they all slept silently.
Lysander eyes snapped open at the banshee's scream. Ever cautious, the garou quickly surveyed the room. Bridget was asleep beside him, Buddy had moved from his place at the foot of the bed to stand guard by the bathroom door. Schindler must have been showering.
He inwardly cursed his heightened senses. He probably could have gotten another fifteen minutes of sleep before the brat woke him up.
Another, softer, squeak grabbed his attention again, and through the mirror he could see the red head step out of the bathroom. A white motel towel hung loose and low on his hips and for a moment, Lysander was taken aback by the sight of the youth's body.
He'd always known the kid was skinny, too skinny but hiding beneath bulky sweaters, he never realized just how underweight he really was. Even in the low light, he could see the shadows cast by ribs that had become too pronounced.
But perhaps what was really disconcerting was not his weight, but rather the thick scars that decorated much of his body, abuse. Though he'd heard of teens who cut themselves for attention, the width, depth and frequency of the scars spoke volumes about what had happened in the kids life.
Lysander remained still, even as Schindler dropped to his knees to pet behind Buddy's ears. In what Lysander thought to be an uncharacteristic moment, the youth pulled the dog's face close to him and allowed the burly animal to place a messy dog kiss on his face.
In the mirror, with just the light from the bathroom, Lysander could see the way scars criss crossed along his back. Some were short and shallow, others long and deep and while there didn't seem to be any easily discernible pattern to them, they made Lysander squirm uncomfortably.
The slight movement seemed to catch Schindler's eye and he stood up. Patting buddy on the head, he grabbed his clothes from his bag and returned to the bathroom, once more shutting Lysander in the darkness.
He laid there in the darkness, trying to think of what he'd say to the kid. He was never good at dealing with these things. How do you approach a situation like that? What did you say...
He sat up when the door opened again, his body altering from it's natural state into that of a 22 year old man.
"Afternoon" Schindler greeted curtly, eyes downcast and body rigid.
"Un" Lysander grunted back, making his way to the bathroom to relieve himself of the 8 cans of coke he'd consumed the night before.
He paused behind the 17 year old, taking in his rigid posture as he put his clothes neatly back into a light blue gym bag.
"Don't worry..." Schindler whispered, his voice strained. "She's dead..."
Lysander reached out, his big hand gently ruffling wet red hair. Whether it was the weight of everything that had happened finally hitting the poor kids shoulder or the simple act of comfort that sent him spiraling down, Lysander would never know. But those awfully thin shoulders began to shake and silently, the werewolf guided the mage around into his chest.
One arm draped around the kid, pressing him against his chest while Schindler's hands clung to his two day old shirt, silently crying for the first time in years.
No other words were spoken. They stood there until Schindler pushed away, the tears had made his eyes a crystal clear blue and he looked more like a kid then Lysander had seen him before.
".... We should get going soon" Schindler whispered, drawing Lysander back to the present. "I'll wake bridget while you get ready"
He didn't seem as ashamed as Lysander would have expected him to be.
"Alright, then we'll eat" Lysander smiled. "I'm starving"
Schindler chuckled a bit. "Yeah, coffee sounds pretty good too"
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