Chapter 12

It took Phineas nearly half an hour to get dressed, having decided to layer Ethan’s clothing over his own a few times till he’d grown nearly four inches in girth from cloth alone. He preferred the disguise to his normal clothing in many ways: the way it insulated his often chilly body and gave him plenty more padding for scrambling across the floor when that piece he absolutely needed pinged out from between his fingers and decided to roll along under shelving units. Today wasn’t a day for building, though his mind had plenty of ideas circulating. No, today was the day he went home. He’d waited a long time for something spectacular to happen in No Town to no avail. Perhaps these “goings on” were merely speculation or grossly exaggerated. The No Town he’d been living in for the past few weeks felt far too homely and comfortable to be a powder keg. He was quite sure No Town was simply misunderstood, and having reached an understanding of it, it was time to leave.

He slipped on his large boots, a gift from Ethan he’d been eager to accept. They were almost two and a half sized larger than he needed, more than enough room inside to wiggle his toes and store the kinds of things that just didn’t fit inside ones pockets, which he had many of as well. There was a strong sense of independence in wearing such big boots. Where these feet took him was of his own choosing, be it down to Madam Cho’s or all the way back to the upper Core levels of Solace. He was very much of the opinion at this moment that losing ones virginity was very wrongly labeled as being the transition point between boy and man; a nice pair of boots was all anyone ever really needed. And a Swiss army knife with the screwdriver attachment. That was manly too.

Phineas hopped down from the table and gave one of the legs a few good kicks to settle the contents of his shoes before stretching his arms in the air and popping a few vertebrae in his neck and back. Sitting on a tram for hours was not his idea of fun and he hardly looked forward to it. He’d even considered mailing himself back home if it entailed some high-speed mode of travel not yet cleared by the safety administration for human use. Unfortunately no such thing existed. Pity. It would have become a much more interesting trip if it had. He could almost picture his father’s face upon opening the package he’d arrived in, a mix of shock and confusion making his nose wrinkle up and eyeballs protrude slightly as be leapt out like a Jack-in-the-box. He’d even hum a few bars of “Pop goes the Weasel” for added affect. It really was a pity no one had invented a higher speed mode of travel as yet uncleared for human use. It would have made a fantastic entrance.

Either way, he felt it was time to return. He was well aware his father would be irate. Disappearing without a trace was sure to have made the stick up his ass invite friends on over. He’d be like a puppet with a massive stick collective protruding from his rectum, multiplying his normally disagreeable temperament exponentially. It would take the worlds top proctologists to evaluate and remove the offending wood, though all of them would have to whistle under their breath in awe of just how pissed off he’d made his dad. It was an amusing hypothetical situation anyway, one he was sure his father would be quite disappointed in should he remember it and smile inappropriately when he was supposed to be feeling guilty. Had Maxwell not been so afflicted with a fatal case of seriousness, Phineas was sure he would have smirked a bit at the thought too.

As he patted down his pockets, making sure he had everything he wanted to take with him, the door opened and admitted his giant as well as the sweet smell of pastries. Phineas charged at Ethan and began to climb up his body like a pole as his friend held the box of donuts over his head.

“Hey, come on, I let you have first dibs and you won’t leave so much as a crumb for me!”

“I know you ate some at the store already. Those are mine,” Phineas announced as he reached Ethan’s shoulders and the box. He snatched it away, grinning like a Cheshire Cat as the smell wafted up from the closed container.

Ethan’s arms wrapped around him, steadying him as he lifted him off and put him back on one of the tables. “Didn’t expect you to be up and dressed already. You must have big plans.” Ethan sat on the table beside him, careful to keep his fingers away from the box lest they be mistaken for food. “So, what are you going to build today?”

Phineas finished inhaling his second cinnamon twisty and licked the remaining topping from his fingers. “Nothing. I’m going home.”

“What do you mean ‘home’?”

“Where my dad lives. Where I live. The place where my mail is sent,” the redhead clarified as he began popping donut hole after donut hole into his mouth like a squirrel with nuts.

Ethan’s face pinched a little, a mixture of emotions appearing in quick succession. “You mean you’ve had a home and family this whole time and you didn’t say anything?”

“You never asked.” Phineas was quick to point out. It had honestly never been his intention to deceive anyone. If Ethan felt he had lead him on, it was only because he had jumped to his own conclusions. He continued to consume his pastries; it was best to have a full stomach before setting out.

Ethan did feel lead on, though, and crossed his arms over his chest. “You little prick. You’ve been using me just so you could run away.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

Phineas wiped his mouth off, frowning at his companion. “I wasn’t running away. I just wanted to investigate No Town and see a bit of the world. I’m done now. So, I’m going home. I didn’t ask you for anything, you offered. If you feel like I used you it’s because you were too quick to give stuff away. ’S not my fault.”

Phineas had only enough time to blink before he felt his back pressed against the cold slab of the table, Ethan’s body trapping him against it while his lips pressed firmly against Phineas’s, sucking hard at his mouth. He had been eating pastries at the shop before coming over. Custard filled. Phineas felt his arms being secured over his head, one of Ethan’s large hands more than enough to encompass Phineas’s small wrists.

Ethan broke off the kiss, his eyes glaring into Phineas’s. “Maybe it’s time I just start taking, then, rather than giving.”

Phineas wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that. He wasn’t quite sure what any of this was about. He felt the other man’s spare hand groping at his pants, though through the many layers it was simply a change in pressure. Then the hand gave up on that and plunged down through the waist bands against his skin until it met flaccid flesh beneath a short tuft of hair.

Phineas arched off the table, his mouth uttering a surprised sequence of vowels as his eyes search the ceiling for an answer to the stars in his vision. This was new. Very new. The parasympathetic division of his autonomic nervous system must have been stimulated. He hadn’t expected such a strong reaction though nor Ethan’s interactions. The scientist in him was intrigued. Health books had always described arousal so clinically, as a matter that could be defined and handled with complete sensory and motor control like a dissection or assembly. How had they neglected to mention his whole body would tremble, his voice would somehow discover a new range of sounds and pitches and his brain would have little more than slight trouble piecing together a coherent thought? No, the books had most certainly left out a great many interesting details. The scientist was much more than a little curious. The boy, however, was scared.

The large metal door resounded with a heavy knock against it from the other side--three insistent bangs demanding more than inquiring entry. Ethan stopped, looking over his shoulder at the door while Phineas craned his neck to do the same. Who the hell was knocking at his door at nearly nine in the morning? Didn’t they know most of the time he was still asleep right now? How inconsiderate. Still, it gave time enough for thought. It was in the best interest of science to proceed only when all findings could be done in such a way as to be reproduced to challenge the hypothesis. Intriguing as the situation was, he had no reason to continue. Whatever skill Ethan was unleashing against him in his pants, there was reason enough to believe he could reproduce the same effect on his own in a controlled environment. That would the most reasonable action to take. There were too many variables to consider in the addition of Ethan.

With that settled, Phineas rested back against the table and shouted his orders at the door. “So long as you’re not here to steal anything, come in! It’s open!”

Ethan quickly let him go, stepping far away, as though to distance himself from blame, as Phineas sat up, rubbing his wrists gently and frowning slightly at his lap. Well, there were certainly a lot of bonuses to wearing many layers of clothing. The door creaked open and Phineas waited for his visitor to appear. He was a busy man after all and he still had a tram to catch. What a bother being so popular. Perhaps it was Madam Cho bringing him breakfast too, or an early lunch. That would have been awesome indeed. But instead, a brother appeared around the corner of the door, no gifts of food in his hands but rather a gun.

Phineas blinked, more than a little surprised. “Julian?”

He watched his brother’s eyes find him in the dim lighting and saw the tired smile that split across his face. “Remind me never to play hide and seek with you on this grand a scale ever again.”

Phineas hopped down from the table, not quite sure at what point he’d given himself away. Sure, his brother was a fine detective but still, he hadn’t given him enough credit to even mark it as a possibility he’d show up. He had either grossly underestimated him or Julian had somehow cheated. It was most likely the latter. Phineas walked over to him, hands planted firmly at his hips. “I was going to go home on my own, you know. What are you doing barging into my laboratory? I’m supposed to be catching the tram in an hour or so. I can’t be entertaining guests.”

Julian smirked a little at his brother’s normal dismissal of normality and instead watched the very tall man in the corner sneak past him and out the door without a word. “Who was that?”

“Oh, that’s Ethan. You probably made him nervous coming in here with a gun like that. Put that away,” Phineas ordered, pleased to see Julian obey. “Lemme guess. Dad sent you.”

“None other. Hasn’t been easy, I’ll tell you that much. I’ve been looking for you since the morning after you left.”

“Well congratulations, you found me. Got a big prize waiting now?” The bitterness in his tone surprised even him. Maybe it had a little to do with Ethan sneaking out without a word as much as it did seeing his brother again in so many months only because their father had hired him. Still, he felt a little annoyed at his tongue for putting such a tone across.

Julian crossed over to him and bent down, giving him a strong hug that made Phineas’s body feel warm and comfortable. It reminded him of a Christmas two years past, when his brother had come home on leave from the military police for the holiday and had sat beside him on the couch with his arms around him while their father announced their plans and itinerary for the publicity hotspot. It was the last time he’d been held by his brother, the last time he’d spent any real length of time in his presence. Shyly, Phineas wrapped his own arms around Julian’s chest and leaned his head against his shoulder.

“I was so worried about you,” Julian whispered into his ear.

“I’m okay. Just wanted to step out for a while.”

Julian nodded a bit and kissed his cheek before standing back up.

Phineas let his arms fall back to his sides. “So now I get escorted back home, yeah?”

“...Sorry.”

Phineas shrugged. “I was going to go back today anyway.”

“If you want...you can stay at my place tonight instead of going straight to Maxwell’s. Probably better off dealing with him after a good night’s sleep rather than after a long tram ride.” Julian offered a charming smile. “We’re overdue for a sleepover, aren’t we?”

Phineas gave that some thought, the gears in his mind working like the clockwork toys he’d made. That their father would be pissed was already a factor he’d taken into consideration, as well as the length of the tram ride and the potential for being a hungry boy who would have to sneak downstairs for some food after being chastised harshly and sent to bed without. Going with Julian would mean un unprecedented event in which both brothers could converse and perhaps plot to make his homecoming less of a criminal sentencing, as well as guarantee him another day of provided meals. It was scarcely worth debating with such clear advantages. It would be nice to spend some time with his brother, as well, with time and fortune separating them more and more.

Phineas only took enough time as required to show off some of the more impressive inventions he’d made or completed in his time away before gathering up what little else he needed to bring with him and joining Julian on the tram headed back to the Core. Sitting side by side, Julian put an arm around his shoulders and offered himself as a head rest and guard should a nap be desired. Phineas had already seen the view from the windows on his way out and welcomed the rest, shutting himself down and feeling his breath synch with the movements of his pillow’s chest. Julian kept him close, making sure no one would disturb Phineas and enjoying his victory lap, as it were.

Though it was not a terribly long walk, they took a bus from the station, a straight shot to the restaurants in his district where they stopped and ate, keeping conversation mostly to pleasantries and curiosities. What all Phineas had been doing on his trip and before, what kind of jobs Julian had been taking since becoming a mercenary, and so on. These were perhaps things that they should have known before this meeting, but simply had neglected to find interest in or the time to write or call and keep up to date on such trivial details of the day to day. It was nice to talk about as they ate, though--a few informative words between bites while Phineas gorged himself, as always.

He sat back at length, letting out a short belch as he patted his belly. A fine meal indeed, especially having been stuck on a tram for so many hours.

“So, there wasn’t anything exceedingly interesting that happened while you were gone?” Julian asked, feeling the time was right for a topic a little more substantial now that his brother’s plate was cleared and his mouth vacant of a utensil.

Phineas thought about that for a minute, unsure what exactly counted as interesting in his brother's book. He knew what he found interesting though, and went with that. “Well, there was the time when time stopped.”

“Stopped, huh? Were you scared or happy or something?”

Phineas shook his head, pushing back his memories until the blur of it came to the front. “No, it just stopped. Me and Ethan were climbing out of the sewers and then he was suddenly there. He made everything stop and rode through the emptiness on a motorcycle between then and a little past then. I stopped, too, but Ethan didn’t notice I don’t think.”

Julian leaned across the table a bit. “A guy on a motorcycle, hm?” His interest seemed piqued. “What did he look like?”

Leave it to Julian to miss the whole point. Phineas sighed a little. “Dark skin, probably of middle eastern decent, no helmet, tattoos.”

Julian nodded along with the description, as though the picture it painted was a familiar one. Indeed it was, though the older brother felt no interest in sharing that fact. This was a surprising new clue to a mystery he hadn’t been aware he was involved in. “Cool. Anything else?”

Again Phineas searched his mind for something that seemed to stand out more than the mundane though entertaining moments he had spent. One other thought came to mind, one he hadn’t really intended on sharing, but given his current company, it seemed perhaps the most relevant time to make mention of it. “You know a lot about sex, right Julian?”

The sip Julian had taken nearly came out in a spit-take. He blinked at his brother across the table, face turning red. “Um...I guess.... You really shouldn’t take everything Dad says to heart, though.”

“I generally don’t but I figure you’re still the best person to ask.”

“Oh...you’re not going to ask me to explain where babies come from, are you?”

“...No. We covered that in human biology,” Phineas answered, almost a little annoyed. “I know all about reproduction, I want to know about sex. Like what it means when a guy puts his hands down your pants and starts to give you a hand job.”

Julian gave up on trying to drink and set his glass down on the undressed table. “Um...why that specifically? Did anything happen?”

Phineas shrugged. “It kind of pissed Ethan off that I wasn’t going to stay and I wasn’t an orphan. So he laid me out on the table and kissed me and started jerking me off.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that when he was in the room?!”

“Because it wasn’t important,” he explained, not sure if his brother‘s response was one he expected or not.

“Not important? Didn’t a little self preservation, rape alert go off in your head?”

Phineas shook his head, though the thought now circulated in his mind. Had Ethan been about to rape him? Didn’t feel much like what he expected rape to be like. Weren’t you supposed to scream and cry and be in pain? Perhaps, yet again, books had lead him astray. This was quiet displeasing. “It really didn’t bother me, Julian. But I do have some questions about it.”

“I’m sure you do.” Julian rubbed at his eyes, the light suddenly causing his head to ache. “Alright, probably best from me than Dad or some CommNet chatboard. Where do I need to start?”

“I want to know why it felt different when he was doing it than it does when I do it.”

Julian mentally checked discussing masturbation with his younger sibling off the list of things he never thought he’d be doing and didn’t really want to do. He cleared his throat nervously with an embarrassed flush to his face. The table they sat at was isolated in a far corner, with no one sitting in either direction as the lunch rush was over and dinner was still a few hours away. He leaned forward all the same; such intimate conversations were best reserved for a more hushed tone. “Right. Feels different. Uh...well, you know how when Dad hits you and you flinch up and get ready for it and it almost doesn’t hurt as much because you already knew it was coming? But when there’s no warning and he just off and wallops you, it hurts more just because you didn’t expect it?”

Phineas nodded a little, though he was glad to remark to himself that such instances weren’t so very common. He was sure to get it this time, all the same. Like Julian had said though, at least so long as he was prepared for a strike, the sting never went too deep.

“It’s kinda like that, I guess,” Julian continued. “When you, uh, touch yourself you know your actions before you feel them and it keeps you from getting carried away I guess. When it’s someone else, you’re vulnerable to everything they can throw at you and that added bit of surprise heightens the experience.”

Made sense. Phineas frowned. “So the only way to make it feel like that again is to have someone else touch me.”

Julian waved his arms at him. “Not at all the moral of the story. You are way, way too young to be thinking like that.”

“How old were you when you were doing it?”

“That’s even less relevant,” Julian stammered quickly. “Point is, you’re Phineas, not me. You’re smart and have a lot going for you and the last thing you need at your age is some torrid love affair, an STD, a baby or some other wildly overdramatic experience. Wait until you’re older to enjoy heart break and disappointment.”

Phineas rolled his eyes a little. “You sound like Dad.”

“Well...I guess even we agree on some things then.” That smarted to admit. “Masturbation’s fun, right? Even if it doesn’t feel exactly like what that single-minded rapist was doing, it’s still a means to an end.”

“Masturbation is a means to relieve built up sperm and testosterone stored in the testes to maintain good reproductive health and keep me from waking up damp and sticky from a nocturnal emission,” Phineas described clinically. “Jacking off at night is not for fun. It’s a necessity.”

Julian smirked a little at his brother’s factual demeanor. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Julian, it’s only been a few years since my penis first alerted me that it had any kind of sexual aspirations. Erections are not fun when they happen for no logical reason. I’ve waited a long time for it to lay down and stay down, so why the hell would I purposely coax it into a tense, full state if my intentions were to just make it stop?”

“Because it feels good.”

“So does tightening the bolts on a hyper-flux power drone,” Phineas retorted. This helped, though. All the scrambled parts of his mind that were unsure and disjointed formed together to complete thoughts and sentences. It made him relax to finally have them all back in order, at least long enough to reach his verdict. Sex was a very powerful tool if it could make him so confused with just a taste. He’d know to be wary of it in the future at least. He smiled a little, picking up the desert menu. “You know what else feels good? Pie in my belly. Nice, chilled, fruit pies. Like the banana cream pie in the picture right here. All it’s missing is a Phineas and a fork. Fork optional.”

“I will buy you an entire pie if you promise me we’ll never speak of this again and you won’t have sex with anyone until you’re thirty.”

Phineas raised a brow. “How about two whole pies, I talk to you about it whenever I really need to, and I have sex whenever I damn well feel like it. Which I don’t, really.”

“Good enough for me.” Julian rose from the table, laying his napkin on his plate, and walked over to pay at the counter next to the pie display case.

With two desert boxes in a bag for easy transport, Julian walked his brother the last few blocks to his apartment, throwing open the door for him as he put his personal effects down and walked over to the kitchen to put one of the pies in the freezer. Phineas looked around curiously, taking in the small apartment with fascination. It was slightly cluttered with tablets and a computer all huddled together on a coffee table that had seen many better days. The couch had a permanent indentation where his brother would no doubt perch for hours, studying the screen or typing up his papers. There were rings on the table made from his coffee cup, a half empty bottle of scotch beside the mouse and a pillow serving as a couch decoration for when naps were deemed necessary. Phineas could relate to that much, having woken up several times in the lab feeling rather lucky he hadn’t impaled his eyeball on his screwdriver whilst nodding off at the work bench.

He took a seat in the indentation, smirking a bit at the thought he would never have the nerve to say out loud: Julian had a bigger butt than he did. He wiggled a bit into it, getting a feel for what it must be like to be his brother every Monday through Friday. On the wall across from the couch wasn’t a vidscreen or anything so fancy. Instead there was a mess of electronic wanted posters printed on thin, programmable plastic tacked up to the cream-colored walls. Some faces were obscure, others had names to them that rang a bell from overheard newscasts. One of them, the one tacked firmly in the center, was so simple it didn’t even include a face. All it said was “The Surge. Wanted Alive. Reward: 100 million credits.” Ah yes, the bounty of all bounties. No leads, no evidence, just a name and a legend to initiate the most ridiculous manhunt ever sanctioned by government officials. Phineas didn’t know whether to think his brother foolish for even entertaining the idea of locating and bringing down The Surge or a little miffed that Julian would have the nerve to put a stop to such an interesting folk hero. Then again, what wall of wanted men would be completely without the enigmatic centerpiece? In that case, he had to applaud him on his décor.

Julian brought out a large slice of pie and a glass of milk, setting them both on the space made for them on the table in front of Phineas. Phineas looked at both servings and grimaced. “You’re holding out on me. I know this didn’t take two boxes to bring home.”

“Just thinking ahead. Maybe you’ll want some tomorrow, hm? Best not to gorge yourself on both all in one sitting.” He took a seat beside him, hugging his pillow as he picked up his scotch bottle and took a long, hard swig.

Phineas sighed and poked at his pie partition with his fork. There was hardly the same magic in a piece of pie as there was in a whole one. Still, waste not, want not. He forked off a large cross section and stuffed it in his mouth, whipped topping collecting on both the tip of his nose and his chin.

By the time he’d savored the last morsel of pie on his plate, they had been sitting in silence for several minutes. It was a mix between comfortable silence and pregnant silence. There was something very home-like in being together, very reminiscent of their childhood in several ways. Phineas had often been pacified with deserts and Julian seemed to have always been familiar with the liquor cabinet. A typical evening might have looked just like this, the two sitting in silence on a sofa, each with their silencing treat. You said nothing because you never really relaxed; the Master was always watching and being too comfortable around family could spell disaster. Maxwells walked a thin line between ally and enemy.

That’s why the magic of the pie felt so depleted. When Julian had brought it in, the sensation of cameras spying on them everywhere came with him into the room. It was as though they had been transported back into that cold, lifeless den were scrutiny and punishment waited.

Phineas swallowed hard. Oh, he was really going to get it when he got home.

Even though he’d accepted the fact from the get-go, thinking about it now, so close to the real thing, it felt like he was drowning.

“All done?”

Phineas jumped a little, looking up at his brother with large, golden eyes. “Done?”

Julian put his hand on the empty place. “You look like you could use another.”

Phineas nodded a little, keeping only his fork as Julian stood and faded away behind the wall that separated kitchen from living room. This might be the last time he was ever offered pie. His father might wipe it from existence to spite him. Sick as he felt just thinking about the imminent beating, having all that delicious food barred from his lips, increased security...he needed to consume as much freedom and pie as he could get his hands on. It really was down to all or nothing now.

As though sensing this growing need, Julian brought him the rest of the pie. He set it down on the table before taking his seat beside Phineas once more, licking the white frosting that had clung to him as he carried it from his fingers. “Mmm. Not bad.”

“If you get to taste, so do I.”

Julian cocked his head slightly as his brother reached across for his bottle of scotch. Phineas lifted it up and brought it to his lips, smelling the burn of the alcohol as he breathed it in a second before pouring it down his throat. It drifted down like lava to his belly, making him feel cold everywhere in comparison to the heat bubbling away in his gut. Tasted about as good as he remembered as well.

Julian took it from his hand, looking at him sternly, before leaning back and looking him over. “You hate scotch.”

“Yeah, tastes like gear lubricant with a side of intake fuel,” Phineas admitted, going for his desert to correct this flavor imbalance. “The pie tastes even better in comparison though.”

“You hoping to get drunk tonight or something?”

Phineas shook his head and continued to eat.

Julian watched him. Phineas was acting differently than he had been and he could think of only one reason: he was scared. Putting his bottle on the coffee table, Julian left his brother to his solitude and walked back to the bedroom, putting some clean sheets on the bed and turning down the large comforter. Of all the luxuries he lived without since going his own way, a large, comfortable bed was one he refused to compromise. He was very glad of that now, with so much extra space available for his brother’s small frame to snuggle down into. From memory, Phineas was a thrasher, able to wake up upside down and more than halfway off the bed on some occasions. It was a sight to see, for certain, but not one to become involved with. He hoped this would be enough room to keep them both alive and well until morning.

“Didn’t have to make the bed, you know. I’m going to just mess it all back up,” Phineas noted from his post, leaning against the doorframe with one fist gently rubbing his eyes.

Julian turned a smile to him and patted the fluffy comforter. “It’s not made so much as it’s clean. Smells nice. I, uh, got this new detergent. I thought ‘clean linen’ was specifically made for bedding and stuff but it turns out it’s a fragrance. It’s really nice.”

The younger brother walked over to the bed and gave it a couple pats, feeling out the softness. A firm mattress was best for the back but it seemed no one had bothered to tell Julian that. Phineas’s hand sank down into the comfortable layers of foam and assorted materials, swallowed up by their warmth as though entering a silky cocoon. It did have a very nice aroma too it, though. “When my mom would clean houses, she’d come home smelling like this from doing other people’s laundry. All of our things, though, she’d use spring fresh scents on. She said it smelled like life and not just like soap.”

“Oh...well, sorry it smells like soap,” Julian’s apology lacked any real concern. “Did you see your mom while you were out at all?”

Phineas shook his head. “He’d have looked there first and I’d have had to have gone back home.”

“Well, want to stop by and see your other family before we go back tomorrow?”

Again, Phineas shook his head, perhaps to the surprise of his brother. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his mother again, hug her neck and get some homemade cookies in his belly. With his adopted father’s eminent displeasure on the horizon, though, it would be hard to enjoy the moment for what it was worth.

Phineas slipped his feet from his large boots and crawled across the bed, snuggling down into the depths of the blankets, prepared for an eternity of hibernation if it would prolong his grisly sentence. He waited quietly as he heard his brother’s footsteps pace from the bed to the closet, to the bathroom, and back to the bed. He slid under the covers as well, a countering weight on the other side of the mattress. They laid like that for a few minutes, neither saying anything or moving in closer to the center. Phineas finally just switched his consciousness off, accepting the gesture of sleep in a warm bed for what it was.

In the morning, he was less keen. Not only did his brother seem to have a severe lack of consideration but he had also sabotaged the bed. Now, with Julian crooning some ghastly tune in the shower, Phineas was faced with perhaps his greatest nemesis of all: tangled sheets. They had teamed up with the soft, pillowy mattress and now together they fought to keep him prisoner. A cocoon indeed. In fact, the more he twisted and tried to kick his legs, the firmer the grip they seemed to have on him was. This could be dangerous. One wrong move and it would be the end of him. There was only one thing to do: roll off the bed.

Ouch.

He made a mental note to remember boots went at the foot of the bed, where the likelihood of needing to make a gyrating escape was dramatically less. Tugging his feet free from the edge of the linens, Phineas sat up and looked for the clock. It told him, in not so many words, that he had been asleep for over ten hours and it was way past time for him to be up and getting ready. His bladder was inclined to agree. He looked over at the bathroom door, which was opened part way to vent out the steam. There was no telling how long his brother’s shower would take, and peeing in a kitchen sink just seemed wrong on too many levels to really contemplate. He stood and walked over to the door, then let himself in, walking straight towards the toilet next to the shower and unzipping his baggy jeans for a good morning piss.

“You know, Phineas, hearing someone pee while you’re standing under a constant stream of warm water isn’t exactly relaxing.”

Phineas gave a small grunt of amusement. “It’s all reclaimed water anyway. Not exactly a stretch of the imagination to feel like you’re being urinated on by any number of people.” He waited for the response he was sure to get, and smirked broadly to himself when his brother shut the shower off. Julian’s weak constitution was a source of endless amusement. Phineas gave two shakes then tucked himself back in his boxers before putting his hand to the handle. “Thus begins another cycle of hygiene.”

“That is so gross, Phineas.” Julian grabbed a towel off his rack and stepped out of the shower with it wrapped around his waist. “You’re next, I hope you know. See if I leave you any hot water next time.”

The red head spied his reflection, eyeing the haphazard red spikes of hair. “I don’t need a shower. I don’t smell and my hair’s not all greasy.”

“Take one anyway. I’ve got some stuff to look up and it’ll give you something to do other than sit around and wait for me. Can’t hurt to look your best for dad.”

Phineas considered that for a minute then sighed and began the tedious process of undressing. One reason he had slept in his clothes the night before had been to bypass the whole ordeal of dressing again in the morning. Julian was right though, it could only help him to scrub behind his ears and neck before showing back up at home. He tried to keep his things together in piles so as to slither back into them once he was clean, all his shirt sleeves and pant legs still pulled through the others. To his surprise, Julian helped aid him with some of it, holding the cuffs of his sleeves as he wiggled down and out of his layers.

“So, what exactly is that tattoo of?”

Phineas blinked and looked over his own shoulder, as though he could make it out at his vantage point. He’d practically forgotten about the still healing design inscribed on the flesh between his shoulder blades. “Oh, that’s my lady Science.”

Julian smirked a little at the familiar way in which Phineas had named his woven design. “Going to introduce her to dad?”

“Oh hell no.” Phineas made a deeply disturbed face. “Contrary to popular belief at this junction and an overwhelming amount of contrary evidence, I do value my life.” He left the last bits of his clothing on the floor and skittered off behind the drawn shower curtain. “I’ma wash up now.”

“Right. Use whatever you want. Towel’s on the rack, just hang it back up when you’re done.”

Phineas waved his hand at him through the curtain, dismissing him from the scene. He was quite up to date of bathing etiquette, thank you.

It didn’t take long to bathe; in fact, considerably less time than he had anticipated considering the fact that he didn’t have to be as gentle or careful cleaning his tattoo area as he had the last time he showered. There were no scabs, no sensitivity, as though it were completely healed. That was certainly a relief. One of his fears had been unintentionally causing part of it to scab and thus ruining the intricately laced design he’d managed to sit still for.

He dried off and slithered back into his clothing, an act that took almost twice the amount of time the shower itself took. He’d have to remember to either work on a way to make clothing more readily layer-able or to take away his bodies ability to produce odor and wetness. Once dry and clothed, he walked out to the living room where his brother still sat in his indent, typing away on his computer. There was the rest of the pie and a glass of milk sitting out on the table again though, just waiting for Phineas in all their chilled glory. He flopped down on the couch and dug in as his stomach churned out a loud, starved rumble.

“Sorry, I know pie’s not exactly a breakfast food. I promise we’ll stop by and get something real before we get to dad’s,” Julian said, not looking away from the screen even slightly.

“Pie is an all day food, but feel free to buy me more of anything.” Phineas reached for his last banana cream pie and dug in, looking over his brother to spy the screen he was working on. It looked a little like the invoices Phineas would sometimes fill out to help Maxwell, but with larger description fields. “You fill out an invoice for every job you finish?”

Julian shook his head, still typing. “No, this is a search engine. I got this from the local PD. It filters through the records of citizens in Solace and only focuses on the details I’m looking for. This way, if I happen to come across someone who looked shady or lost, I can plug their description into both this database and the criminal search engine and see if I stumbled upon anyone worth while. The criminal version works great on my datapad but it tends to freeze up trying to manage this one.” He clicked a few buttons, sitting back just slightly as the system did its job.

Phineas read part of the description before he had sent it off: Dark skin, late teens to mid twenties, green eyes, five feet four inches tall, tattoos and piercings. That was rather odd. It sounded a little bit like the person Phineas had shared a moment with on the street--the man on the bike. There was quite a bit more detail in the description than he could recall ever seeing or relaying to his brother, though. Perhaps it wasn’t such a coincidence Julian had managed to find him in that case.

The filter came back with over a hundred names, addresses and pictures. Julian downloaded the results to his data pad then shut his computer down. “Alright, that’s it for me here. When you’re done with your pie, we’ll move on out.”

Phineas nodded, intrigued all the more. He gobbled his pie up quickly, savoring it in his own way by bypassing the milk and letting the sweet flavor remain after the last piece was swallowed. He carried his dishes to the sink then went back to the bedroom for his boots, taking the pack of cigarettes he had stashed in the top out and sliding it into his pocket. He’d wait until the last bit of pie flavor faded then go ahead and light up. He was scared and nervous and some fire in his throat usually did the trick to help settle that.

“You like coffee, right, Phineas?”

Phineas joined his brother in the living room again. “Yeah, but only the sweet kind with all the stuff in it.”

“You feel like stopping in one of those tram station coffee shops then?”

Did he ever. Phineas gave a large, eager smile as his response and hurried out the door Julian held open for him. Once it was closed and locked, they began the short walk to the tram station.

They both seemed a little more relaxed and comfortable in each other’s presence in the daylight hours. The awkward silences between conversations the night before seemed to have vanished completely, leaving instead hardly a pause as Julian recounted several of his attempts to locate his brother, spending a great deal of time describing the strange magic shop he’d wandered into as Phineas’s interest continued to pique. It felt good to know he had done a very good job hiding from his family. Maxwell was sure to appreciate the amount of trouble he had put them through, if only because it showed a certain amount of merit and intelligence in Phineas to have accomplished so much on his own. He’d be angry, but at least Phineas had achieved a small measure of respectability in his actions. Pointing that out might save him from some abuse, though certainly not all of it.

He lit his cigarette halfway to the station, ignoring his brother’s disapproving glair. He hadn’t the balls to say anything, hypocrite as he would be, but he still gave him that look that made Julian look nearly identical to their father. He wondered what kind of look he’d get were he to mention the time Ethan and he ate sushi off a naked Asian girl. Probably an extremely funny one where his nostrils would grow to twice their size as well as his eyeballs, which would protrude to the point of nearly falling out. Poor little brother was smoking, disappearing for weeks, getting tattoos, and now slurping down little fishies resting on a woman’s breasts next to the penis petter himself. Actually, that did paint a rather odd picture. That wasn’t who Phineas was at all. He was a scientist, not a rebellious teenager.

Well crap.

Phineas took a long, hard drag from his cigarette, feeing quite displeased. Despite all his intelligence, he had done himself exactly what he had criticized Julian for. He had rebelled for the sake of rebellion. He’d been like an engaged man at a bachelor party, grabbing onto everything he knew he’d be denied once the night was over. Leaving, while well planned, had been impulsive. He’d gluttonously filled himself up with all the gizmos and gadgets he could in the laboratory of his dreams. He’d been engraved on with an image he couldn’t even see because he’d been bored, branding himself with impulse the same way a hormonal teenager brands his lover with a hickey. How disappointing. In the end, he really was still just an average, immature teenager.

At the coffee shop he ordered the biggest single Affagato double pump caramel, triple pump mocha, double blended, caramel drizzle cup with whip cream, caramel and mocha drizzle, dulce de leche frappachino they had. It looked ridiculous next to Julian’s small, black coffee. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Either way he picked it up and drank it fast until his brain froze over and he pursed his lips and closed his eyes to force it away. He had never felt more immature in his life and the consolation that he was only fifteen years old did very little to make him feel better. He’d thought he was above such things. Not the drinking iced coffee too fast thing, that was more of a lack of restraint thing than anything. It was everything else, still eating at the sides of his consciousness, taking tiny bites so as to bother him all the longer. Perhaps it wasn’t his actions that required further thought, but more his expectations for himself. It was a normal teenage reaction to living under extreme rules, and if he wasn’t careful he would soon fall prey to normal teenager angst, letting it get to him as it was. He sipped his coffee a little slower now that the pain was fading, his brow still furrowed in concentration.

“Phineas, you want your muffin?” Julian pulled the pastry out of the small sack he carried and extended it towards him, the crumbly sweet toppings on top threatening to slide off with the first bite.

The younger brother took it from him gently, not wishing to lose any of the tasty morsels perched precariously on the muffin top. He would need to readdress his issues at a later time, perhaps after his punishment when time for reflection would be given. Right now, it was muffin time.

Phineas disposed of his trash in the bin next to the bench outside the shop where a man with blonde and blue spiked hair sat nibbling on a scone as the Tram pulled up. They boarded along with the rest of the working class, having to stand and hold tightly to the rails and bars as the seats were all taken. It wasn’t a long trip but long enough. Phineas looked through the windows as they climbed, watching the lower level buildings fade as the sparkling skyscrapers of the upper levels came into view. It felt odd that he felt no attachment to the view. It had been his home for many years but still the ritzy glow of the upper levels did not feel like home.

They got off a few stops past the normal station, then hopped buses back towards the building Maxwell owned. Whatever reasons Julian had for doing that, Phineas was unaware of them. He decided it best to leave the private detective work to his brother for now, not really in an argumentative mood. Once they entered the spacious and elegant lobby of his home, he felt even less so. This was it.

The woman behind the counter looked over and smiled warmly to Phineas, her bright red lips parted to show off her bright white teeth. “Young mister Maxwell, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you. You’re looking very nice today.”

Phineas smiled back a bit. “Oh, thanks. You too.” He patted at his pockets and smiled a little bigger, sheepishly. “Actually, I don’t remember which pocket I put my keycard in. Can you send the lift down for me?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Phineas felt his stomach sink as he turned his head, looking up past his brother at the dark silhouettes against the light shining in from the doors. Even without their features visible, it was easy to tell who they were.

“Good morning, Mr. Maxwell, Mr. Torim,” the clerk’s light and cheerful voice sang.

“Good morning, Helen. Any messages for me?”

She shook her head, looking up at the powerful man with awe and respect. “None, sir.”

“Well, that’s fine. Thank you for the good work, Helen.” He waved to her with his politician smile and wrapped an arm around Phineas’s shoulders, steering him to the mirrored elevator doors. His fingers dug into Phineas’s arm painfully, their strong grip only increasing as they walked.

“Mr. Maxwell?” Julian’s footsteps quickly caught up to them as he followed. “Sir, if I may have a word with you?”

Maxwell maintained his public charm, well aware of the audience they had. “I’m sorry, but I’m a very busy man. I’m sure whatever interest group you work for has some fine ideas, but I’m not in the mood to entertain a lobbyist at this moment. Have a good day, sir.”

Anyone could tell by the spark of rage in his eyes that Maxwell was in no mood to converse. The elevator doors gave a small chime as they opened. Julian looked down at Phineas, apologies scribbled everywhere from his eyes to the deep set frown he wore. Phineas smiled back at him a bit, not at all the response even he himself had expected. This was the way things were, though, the way they had always been, and the only way to break out from being just another reckless, impulsive teenager was to accept it, at least this time around.

He got on the lift with his father and his life-long consultant and waited, watching his brother disappear behind the mirrored doors, only for them to open again once they reached Maxwell’s private floor thirteen.