1963-10-09 - Stay You
Summary: Two of the flower children of New York City talk chemistry and botany and vampires.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
duke mree 


Mree's car is neither named, nor anywhere near as pure bad-assery as Tex. The most you could give the two vehicles in common is that they're both blue. But Mree's ride is a squat little sky blue bug with a white convertible top which is presently — as most always — down, and a radio turned about as up as he can up it with whatever new tunes are playing these days. Buggida-bumpida-buddera-bomp runs the little vehicle off the road into the yard, and he pulls up alongside the boxcar office and gives a merry little honk to let Coz know they have company. Company presently flexing his tail against the seat behind him and pushing himself in an easy kick-hop over the door and out the car.

*

Coz, all hundred-fifty pounds of him, comes loping down to meet Mree. His bark is as big as he is but his tail is up and wagging. He runs in a circle around Mree and the car, then romps off toward somewhere in back of the office. Duke is this way.

Duke is, indeed, that way. Past the office, out behind the garage, Duke is standing there — no shirt, no shoes — staring up at something on the top of a stack of cars. A chicken. He usually has a dozen or so around, pecking and scratching and clucking. There's a couple skinny goats…and one of them peers over the edge of the cars next to the chicken.

"I don't care whose idea it was! Don't make me come up there." Duke puts his hands on his hips. "I mean it." At least he's talking to something that exists this time.

*

Mree gasps! In that way that people usually gasp at cute little puppies, all keening and sugar-eyed. "Coz! It's a Coz! Who's a good boy?" Mree crouches, his own tail fwipping excitedly and shedding some of his white, feathery fluff in the process when he swats the side of the boxcar, arms out to scritch the huge dog behind the ears and then chase him off around the building to see where Duke's standing. "Uh-oh!" he calls. "Hello, Mr. Duke!"

*

"Mree!" Duke turns on his heel with a swish of long black hair and gives Mree a grin. He's pleased whenever he remembers someone. "If they're not down by dinner, I'll go get them." He throws a threatening look at the erstwhile pair. "Ever since I got that fluffy chicken, Freda, there's been trouble. I'm not convinced she's not a mutant chicken. Telepathy and all that. What can I do for you?"

*

Duke's grin makes one sprout upon Mree's pale ice-green lips, from cute and demure to big and beaming, happy to see Duke again. "If you're getting them for dinner, little wonder they won't come down," he jokes cheekily. He's not dressed for work, just wearing a tight purple tee shirt with a blue peace sign on it and a pair of jean shorts that were… probably meant for a woman, to be honest. But he has the frame for them. And with his waist-length blonde hair loose and flowing, it's really hard to pin a gender on the plantling, anyhow. "I just missed you. And Coz." A beat, "And Tex," he comes to the crux of the matter. He has a serious crush on Duke's car. "Can I seeeeee him?" he begs, eyelashes a-flutter.

*

"They're gonna be Tex's dinner if they're not careful." Duke doesn't elaborate on how that is going to work. "Come around." For some reason, he's not at all perturbed by anyone coming to see his car.

The garage doors are open and Tex, a big blue, two-door convertible, is crouching — that's the only word — in the weird, squiggly circle that marks his spot in the middle of the big garage. Today, he's covered in sunflowers and some daisies, handfuls of echinacea, and a bundle of lilies. Half a dozen beeswax pillar candles are set on his hood. His horns — they look at first like the classic bull's horns some men put on their low-riders — are gleaming.

*

Mree's lips fall from a cute simper at Duke's return to his jest to resting slack-jawed as he follows Duke around to come behold the great beast all adorned in flowers. It calls up an emerald green hue to his cheek, and even to his eartips. "Oh, gosh," he whispers. "He's even more beautiful than I remember." And covered in flowers. It had to be flowers. Those spread-eagle petals so lewdly inviting and open, just gaping for love of the great bull they're riding. Pure plant porn. Mree's eyes are dizzy, his smile crooked and hapless, his tail lofted behind and then bent sideways with its fluffy white tip hanging floorward. POFF! A soft bundle of white fluff explodes harmlessly from his tail, making a little downy snowfall.

*

"It likes you," Duke says dryly. Tex's headlights seem to flicker. "And it likes flowers. Beer?" There's a fridge in the garage where Duke keeps what he brews when it's ready for drinking. Duke gets one for himself, then wanders over to sprawl in one of the chairs by the garage doors. "Anything else you want, just ask." Coz jumps up on the sofa near the chair where Duke's sitting and leans over to wash Duke's face with his tongue.

*

Mree's heart flutters a little bit at the prediction of Tex's affections, be they humorously intended or no. The flicker of light off of the headlights draws a girlish giggle from the plantling, "Well, he can see my flowers any time he likes," he retorts, openly flirtatious as he turns and tosses Tex a rather impish glance over his shoulder. Then, grinning, "Oh, yeah! A beer sounds great, thank you," and he hop-steps closer. "How's your new tenant doing? Is there anything she needs? I can bring a delivery by next time I come over," he offers.

*

Duke brings Mree a beer while he's flirting with the car. Duke seems remarkably unperturbed by this budding romance (pun intended). Perhaps it's because Duke treats Tex more like a recalcitrant roommate than a vehicle.

"Play your cards right and it'll take you anywhere," Duke says dryly, gesturing toward Tex. "It likes flattery as much as anything else."

Duke pats Tex affectionately on his way back to the chair by the open garage doors. Coz is happily sprawled on the couch there, head hanging off the edge, tongue lolling.

"New girl is doing okay. Learning to handle her changes." Duke never calls them mutations, not unless he has to for clarity. "Figure I can find her work on the docks, she's a big kid." Labourers can often get away with mutations where white collar jobs won't tolerate it. "How's you? Other than 'bout to run off with my car?"

*

Mree takes the beer in long, slender fingers, holding it almost delicately while smiling cheekily at Duke, then slinking down toward the floot next to Tex, leaning his back against a tire and reting his head on the wheel well, turning his face to one side to allow his vine-like whiskers to stroke over the blue paint job. "I wouldn't mind taking him for a joyride, that's for sure. I can picture you out on the open road, just… not giving a care about anything but the long road ahead and the sky full of stars and the wind roaring over your hood." Yeah, at some point he stopped talking to Duke and started talking to Tex, instead. All poetical, too. But he's brought back from his abject flirting with news of the new girl, which, being good, draws a caring smile from her fellow-mutant. "She should go see Ms. Walters, soon, if she's feeling self-conscious. You know Ms. Walters has that bug, right, and she can't control her green very well. And she is… well, she's totally owning it, and it's so inspiring."

*

"Bug?" Duke pauses with his beer halfway to his lips. "People are sick? You don't mean vampirism, do you? Because that's been going around." If there's anything that's going to interest Duke more than, say, a new drug, it's a new disease.

Coz whines, worried, and puts a paw over his face. He doesn't like people being sick, it makes them smell funny.

*

"No, this was a thing she picked up when we went to Vienna," Mree explains, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, until he remembers that it WASN'T the most natural thing in the world, and his eyes go wide. "OH MY GOD I didn't tell you Ms. Walters took me to Vienna, did I? It was so awesome! I never wanted to leave! Everything was so refined and elegant and I felt like, like royalty. Everyone was so nice to me," he beams. "It was weird."

*

"No, you didn't say. Vienna? I want to say I've been there, but I don't remember." Duke is thoughtful for a long moment, drinking his beer. "Money tends to make people more polite," he notes. "They should be that kind all the time, which is another reason money is a terrible idea."

Coz barks sharply, turning over on the couch to give Duke a glare.

"What?" Duke looks defensive. "I just said it was a bad idea. People should be that nice to Mree all the time. Or don't you agree?"

Coz huffs and hops down. He trots over to Mree to give him a sloppy kiss, then fall over in his lap.

*

Mree is slowly building up a pile of all of Duke's best things to live inside. With Tex there smouldering in flowers and candles behind him, and now a big puppy comes to claim his lap for a resting spot, he ruffles the latter with both arms, giving him a hug and nuzzling into the big slobbery kisses, while the former— well, lets just say Mree's long tail is investigating Tex's undercarriage in a way that might just be obscene to describe if it weren't so sui generis, pressing gingerly up against the workings below, stroking along the hoses and rods with the flat spade that caps his longest appendage. "I like having money, though. Buy myself a soda pop," he smiles impishly. "Still, I'd trade it for people being nice to me all the time, that's for sure."

*

Coz makes grumpy noises and casts accusing looks at Duke.

"I don't understand money. Or property. I try but it makes no sense." Duke gestures with the beer bottle, which is surprisingly close to empty already. "I'm not good at this. I feel like it must have been easier, once, but I don't remember that, either." He finishes his beer and rolls to his feet.

"I've been hunting vampires in Hell's Kitchen. That, I do remember how to do. They've gotten more people than I'd like, though," he admits on the way back to the fridge.

*

Mree is dallying over his own beer, in no hurry to do more than sip from it and enjoy the bubbles in the middle of the puppy cuddles. "You don't understand it? I don't guess I've ever really tried to understand them. They're just… a thing. That's happened my whole life. Well, almost my whole life. One time I spent a year living with the other flowers, I never saw a person once. Just… animals and flowers. It was a little bit of an adjustment, coming back among people again. But I never thought to even question something like that." He takes another sip, a slow sip, then a quick sip. "The vampires, yeah. Ms. Walters and I saw some of those at Macy's, of all places. It was horrible."

*

"You didn't get bitten, did you?" Duke stops at the fridge, turns around to come back to Mree. "Even a little of their enyzme can be a problem." Hands on his hips, he looks down at Mree, worried. "I had a girl a little while back who was almost turned, didn't get to her for a while. I was lucky, I'm not sure how much luck I'd have without the original vampire to work from."

Coz whines and starts sniffling Mree all over, checking him for any vampire bites or injuries. He barks sharply at Duke.

"I didn't know, he just told me," Duke says defensively.

*

Mree shakes his head. "No. I didn't even go inside all the way." Whatever what's supposed to mean. "It looked pretty terrible, but there were a couple others who showed up to help, and between the three of them— they took care of it. There were these shadowy dogs, they attacked a woman on the street and I stayed outside with her until it was over. I don't really know anything about… fighting," he shrugs up one corner of his mouth into an apologetic grimace. He lifts his beer overhead along with his other arm to submit to the sniffing as though submitting to a police search, of which he's been through many. But he's intact.

*

"That's not a bad thing." Duke returns to his Quest For Beer. "Too many people know too much about it. If you wanted to learn, someone could teach you, but… you're good the way you are." He finds a beer and takes two for good measure.

"So many people change in this city. It's safer, yes, but it's also…sad. I think that's the word for it." Duke scoops up his jacket on the way back to the couch. "People lose what they are in response to their surroundings. I understand. It's just — that's not how they were made."

*

Mree can't look but pleased at the affirmation of his worth. He so often feel helpless in situations like that. Or, if not helpless, at the very least not helpful. "Thanks, Mr. Duke," he murmurs, almost shy in his pure-hearted appreciation of the sentiment. "I might have even done some good for Sheila," he admits, trying not to sound too overly enthustiastic about it even if it has been rattling around in his mind as a point of pride. "Shiela was the one attacked by the dog. It had some sort of venomous bite, and I helped clean out her blood so she could wake up again. I mean— I don't know if I got it all, or… if it helped in the end. But I did something for her. Like… like one of those real superhero sorts, kinda," he laughs, hiding his face behind one of his hands. As if he could ever be like them.

*

"Saving people any way you can is heroic. It's keeping people well, keeping them alive, that matters most. How you do it is irrelevant." Duke is pretty sure he had an argument with someone about this once. "You give what you can and, if you helped someone, that's good. The way people are these days, I feel like it wasn't always that way. What you did — maybe all the science they have right now couldn't have fixed it. That's why people come to me. Because they need saving. Most of my word, I don't use a sword or a bow."

Coz grumps at him.

"And I don't get paid for it." Duke cracks a fresh beer open. "The world gives us what we need to help people. We shouldn't ask for anything we don't need."

*

Now Mree's just gazing admirably at Duke. Like there was something peaceful and soothing about listening to him talk. Like his head's on straight in a world so often plagued by want and want and craving and want. "It felt nice. Maybe doing something for her. I hope she's OK." A sip of beer. "And I feel good when I work for Ms. Walters. She does so many good things for people. But maybe I can help people myself, too. I know I can make people happy. Can give them sweet dreams and send away nightmares."

*

"Tell me what you did?" Duke is curious now, sitting up and leaning forward to watch Mree's face. "If I know, maybe I can call on you when someone needs help I can't give. I can't always help and that…I wish I could forget that faster." Coz whines and wags his tail, thumping the strange writing that circles Tex.

*

Mree lowers his arms, slowly, in a languid stretch, and settles the beer bottle down carefully on the floor before shimmying sideways just a bit so Coz isn't completely resting on his lap. "I never showed you. I don't show a lot of people, I guess. Here!" is all the preface he gives his demonstration, a syllable which is followed by a very distinctive noise, a wheezy-sounding *POFF* that coincides with Mree's person being replaced by a vague whorl of greenish fog which twists away into nothing in a split second. Another split second later, a second sworl of fog twirls against the couch next to Duke, and with a matching *POFF* noise there's Mree all curled up next to him.

*

"Fantastic." Duke looks well pleased about that. He waves a hand as though trying to collect a little fog on his palm. "The fog…is that you, or an effect of the teleportation?" Tex hums happily about something and Duke points at the car. "Tex can do something like that, though it's not nearly as pretty. It's more…ripping a hole in things and driving through it. Not many people know about that, either."

*

The fog lingers in Duke's palm, but then gets sucked back into the spot where it's supposed to be. "That's me," Mree explains. "I actually filled almost the whole room for a second there. I have… I don't know, countless selves, which are very small. You can't see any one of me, yourself, except for, I suppose, with a microscope. I learned to take my clothing apart with me, as long as it's very close to my person," which could explain his penchant for tight clothes, "And chew the bits back together in place again afterward. But I can't very well hold onto my car keys or elsewise," he goes into some limitations. "So some of me are holding onto things. Others are free. I…" Mree struggles to put his other state into words. "I can feel everything happening to each of me all at once, and act accordingly all at once in different ways. I just can't get too far away from myself, or some of me will die." He rests his head on the back of the couch, all curled up there by Duke, not unlike another dog, his tailtip patting against a cushion. "So I sent a lot of me into her nose and mouth. I can go to the lungs and get into the bloodstream that way. Then I just… found all the blood cells that had the venom on them, and brought them back out of the wound."

*

"Brilliant. Nature is so much more creative than these brains can get around." Duke picks up a lock of Mree's hair, inspects it curiously. "That would be very useful. I expect you could carry small things as well, yes?" He stops with the hair to look Mree in the eyes. "Drugs. If they were packaged up very small, you could deliver them to a wound or a tumor, couldn't you? I could make that. I could make any number of things for you to carry. Sleeping chemicals, hypnotics, clotting factors."

*

Mree's hair is… impossibly long. Well, not impossibly, but at least waist-length. And messy and free at the moment. He doesn't mind at all it being fussed with, either. "Carrying things with me is… well… maybe like a piece of paper with the medicine on it? Something thin." He's not going to say like an LSD blotter, but it's basically what he means. "When I travel to the brain, I can pick up thoughts from there. And make them, too." He lifts a hand in order to return fuss for fuss and toy with a bit of Duke's hair.

*

Duke's hair is no better than Mree's when it comes to behaving. "I can make something, a matrix. Maybe something you could keep on you. Braid it into your hair in threads, or wear it as beads." Duke narrows his eyes, gauging the concept. "Or on sugar, like acid. Maybe if it was dissolved in your mouth, it would make it easier to carry and distribute. I'll work on it. We can practice."

*

Mree's other hand snakes up from under him, and while he lounges there so luxuriously, tail stretching and draping over the arm of the couch while he fingercombs out three little locks and begins to make a tiny little braid. "I'd like that. I'd like to help, if I can," he murmurs sweetly. "You can teach me how," he smiles.

*

"As long as you stay you," Duke chides, though he's already looking thoughtful, his mind churning away at possibilities. "We'll start with something small, I'll think of something. This is how the real work happens — I remember that much. It takes more than one person. It's a hard thing, to feel like you can't help in this world. You shouldn't have to feel that way, if you want to help. There's enough people to pick up guns." He points at a shotgun rack across the garage. "Me included. So you don't need to do that part."

*

Mree glances over toward the guns, but he doesn't let his attention long linger there, attention turning back to Duke's eyes, instead, while he continues the methodical, lazy winding of hair around hair, tenderly drawing the braid down the length of the hair. "I don't think there's much danger of me picking up one of those," he pledges. "I don't want to hurt anybody, you know? Even those vampires, it's like— they almost turned Jack into a vampire, and she's my best friend. What if those vampires out there are someone's best friend, too?"

*

"Vampires are a problem that way. They're dead, Mree." Duke says that with certainty, and he seems a bit sad about it. "Really…dead. Some of them are still themselves but they lose that over time, and they can be controlled by their makers. The ones who will fight you, sometimes you have no choice. But it's good that you think about it like that."

Coz barks several times in rapid succession.

"We're not talking about ghouls," Duke assures him. "Their brains are gone, it's okay that you like to pull their legs off. They're not people anymore. He loves ghouls almost as much as skeletons."

*

"But Jack's better, now. Maybe there's a way to help the rest of them?" Mree's voice, usually so light and crisp, drags along with a mild vocal fry that makes it come across almost purred, almost whined. He lingers along that line of thought, "Do you think it would be safe for me to go inside of one?" he wonders, patting his leg a few times once he finishes the little braid, summoning Coz over to join their pile on the couch.

*

"A vampire? You might pick it up, the thing that makes them undead." Duke hums pensively, chewing his lip. "Maybe not. I think a turned one might be complex. But if I come across someone freshly bitten, you might have a chance. It's more than physical, vampirism, there's a spirit element to it. It touches the intangible. It could be dangerous. But. I'll consider it and tell you if I think of anything."

*

Mree shrugs up his shoulders in something similar to a shiver at the thought. "I've lost some of me before, when I'm apart. When the sun shines I can grow more of me until I can be whole again. But I don't know what would happen if some of me died but weren't dead. I don't know that I'd like to try," he shifts his mind against the tactic. "I miss being able to go to the park. There was a beautiful park in Vienna, and it made me miss ours."

*

"It'll be fixed," Duke promises. He reaches over to pet Mree much like he pets Coz. "Sooner than later. A lot of people are working on it — these things always have to change. For better or for worse. With enough people on the right side, it ends up being for the better. It's hard to go near it. I can feel it suffer, even from here. But we have to keep working at it."

*

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