It was the greatest weekend in Terrence Norwich’s adult life.

Getting a plane ticket from Tony in the mail had been both an exhilirating and a terrifying moment. He was going out of the Alley, alone. No Alfie to guide him around, no Ms Beaubonique to act as a buffer. He would be out in the swamp, further than he’d ever been, by himself for the first time since he was still in school.

On the other hand, he was going to see Tony. The two had been exchanging letters for several months, secretly of course. What started out as vague small talk, asking about basketball and the league Terrence’s brother was set to be a part of, what he’d be doing for the holidays (a question he dodged when it was returned to him). Eventually, though, the tone shifted.

Antonio kicked it off, having sensed that Terry wasn’t just interested in chatting about the weather. Some quick internet sleuthing helped him discover the whole history of Rat Alley, their treatment of “blankers”. Suddenly Terrence’s sharp reaction in the restaurant to the word “boyfriend” made sense, as did Terry’s hesitation to open up fully in his letters. It gave Tony pause as well, not wanting to cause the poor rat any trouble. So he teased at it, danced around the subject, complimenting Terry with careful enough words that wouldn’t make his siblings suspicious if a letter was found.

Then Terrence surprised Tony, signing off a letter with a “PS, I really like you, Tony.” The rat was usually more eloquent in his writing, doing the same dance the grasshopper was, words carefull chosen. That naked admission kicked the door open fully, and the two began to talk more candidly, all culminating in a plane ticket in Terrence Norwich’s hands.

But there was a shadow looming. He had to find a way to go. Secretly. The family couldn’t know. So he told them the only lie he could think of. He was going to visit his brother.

Much as Terrence had hated flying the last time, the plane ride from Liverpool to Winnipeg was agony. He didn’t get sick, he wasn’t afraid of it falling, but the seconds ticked away like hours, the rat looking out of his small window as though it would help give him there faster. He sat in his cushy business class seat, reading through letters and looking at the pictures Antonio had included. Then, after all that, the longest part of the journey was sitting in the plane after it landed, waiting to be let out.

Terrence jogged out of the terminal, looking around frantically for his tall host. Then, spotting Antonio, he walked over as quickly as he could without breaking into a full sprint, only to stop in front of the grasshopper, unsure of what to do or what to say.

Silence passed, only seconds of it though, before Antonio smiled and said, “Let me take you to get a bite, rata. You must be starving.”

The whole flight out, Terrence had been rehearsing, imagining what he’d say and do when he finally saw Antonio again, but when the moment came they all tumbled out of his head and rolled away. If Tony said anything on the drive, he didn’t hear it. All he could do was sit back and watch Antonio speak, more entranced by seeing him live and in motion than focusing on conversation.

The pair took a late lunch at a small, cozy coffee and sandwich shop. The kind that had music playing over the speakers that was from a customer’s band, with a menu written by hand on a chalkboard on the wall. In a lot of ways, it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to Terry, aside from the general cleanliness and upkeep of the building. Tony told him he wanted to ease him into finer dining, not just jump right in.

Terry, on the other hand, wanted to jump right into everything. He just wasn’t sure if he had it in him to say so.

Over sandwiches and coffee, the pair talked about Terrence’s flight and other irrelevant topics.

“So…” Terry said, absent-mindedly playing with an unopened container of coffee creamer. “…D’you ‘ave a big mansion ‘ere?”

Antonio laughed, catching on to the bait instantly. “Not quite, amigo. But you can see for yourself,” he replied, seeing the immediate response from Terrence. So, after paying for the meal, the grasshopper led the rat home.

True to his word, Antonio Garza did not have a mansion. On the contrary, the tall insect lived in a loft just on the edge of the more metropolitan areas of the city. A top floor condo with a few right into Winnipeg proper and a bay window that let its inhabitants look right out into the city, Terrence found himself nearly gaping at the view it afforded. With the sun slowly creeping downward and the city lights beginning to flicker on, it was like a painting to Terrence. Not as hectic and busy as Vegas had been, but more alive. More real. More like what he wanted.

Sitting in Antonio’s apartment was a wholly different experience to the hotel from those months ago. This was lived-in, with personal affects and the smell of self-cooked meals and candles burned some time ago gently tickling his nose. Antonio kept his home clean, but it wasn’t like the hotel room, all spray sanitizers and bulk linens tucked on by housekeeping. It might have been an apartment, but it was a home.

“A drink, rata?” Antonio asked.

Terrence snapped out of his reverie, turning his head away from the panoramic view. “Eh? Oh, er, sure, mate. Whateva y’ have is fine, m’sure.”

Antonio chuckled and nodded, going into his relatively small kitchen. He paused and swallowed once, putting a hand to his forehead. The grasshopper was doing his best to stay calm and reassuring to his guest, knowing how much of a leap it was for the British rodent. Inside, though, his heart was doing backflips and he was amazed he’d kept his lunch down.

Relationships were never Antonio Garza’s specialty. What was he doing? He invited a rat from a hotbed of specism and violence into his home, trusting him from nothing more than an afternoon together and a handful of letters. What if he turned out to be like his brother? What if he wasn’t gay at all, but just confused because he’d never had a chance to explore those feelings? What if…

Antonio shook his head and took in a deep breath. Terrence wasn’t like that. The grasshopper leaned out to look into his living room. Terry was sitting on a wooden chair, one of the set next to a table near the window, straddling it with his chin rested on his arms, just gazing out at the dusk. He looked so peaceful. So calm. So gentle.

It took Tony longer than he would have liked to figure out just what to serve his visitor. Something sweet? The rat’s taste buds were almost certainly not used to such things. A beer? That seemed classless, and Antonio didn’t have any on hand. Then he spied a bottle of scotch he’d gotten as a gift and nodded. That would do nicely. It seemed expensive, although Tony didn’t know much about scotch himself, and might help break the ice.

Pouring two glasses, one ice cube each, Antonio returned and served one to Terry, sitting on his couch with a space open in case the rat wanted to occupy it. He stayed right on his wooden seat. Given what little he knew about Terry’s background, it wasn’t the biggest surprise.

Television off, the two resumed their small talk. Neither seemed willing to drift far behond that, until Antonio decided to take a chance.

“Let me ask you something, Terry.”

“Course, Tone. What is it?”

“Have you ever… actually been with a man?”

The rat hunched forward slightly, watching the sole cube in his glass as it melted, thinning the liquor around it. “Y’mean, like…?”

Antonio nodded. “Si si. Have you had a… boyfriend before?”

Terrence didn’t answer right away. His eyes scanned the floor in front of him, like he was reading the carpet fibers. As the seconds passed, Tony watched intently, his brow furrowed. The silence spoke volumes, and it was clear this was a topic that the rat had either never stopped and thought about before, or he was trying to come up with a graceful exit from it. It wasn’t hard to guess which.

Pausing himself, Tony decided to change the subject, standing up. “Would you like to watch a movie? I have a lot.” It wasn’t the most romantic or adventurous offer, but he had a feeling it was preferable to scratching open old wounds.

Tony’s movie collection wasn’t enormous, but the majority of the films were new to Terrence, and they selected a romantic comedy. Nothing overly dramatic, just a casual film and easy to settle in with. Tony even managed to convince Terrence to sit over on the couch with him. It was a slow transition, the rat scootching over in inches before gently, hesitantly, pressing a bit of weight against Antonio. The grasshopper slipped his arm around the British rat, feeling the tension in his smaller body. Tony wanted it to be a serene, relaxed moment, but he could sense the unease in Terrence, as if his body didn’t trust that nothing bad would happen. Any time the ice maker clattered or there was a noise in the hallway Terrence nearly jumped up.

Eventually, though, Terrence Norwich relaxed into Antonio Garza. It was a foreign feeling for the rodent. He knew there was no danger. There were no Biters outside the door ready to kick it down and beat them for being blankers. He didn’t need to keep the blinds pulled down shut. As Terrence let his gaze drift about the room, it seemed to fade back and forth with the old abandoned house in the Alley. Its one light and shuttered windows in sharp contrast with the warm ambience and lovely view. He hadn’t done it consciously, but Terrence had sat down on the side opposite the window with Tony, as if hiding from… someone.

He hadn’t meant to, but Terrence Norwich drifted off to sleep.

---

Terrence took a deep breath, looking at himself in the mirror of Alphonse's surprisingly threadbare bathroom. The apartment as a whole was modern, clearly built recently, or at least remodeled, but Alfie himself had done little to add to it. There were empty beers strewn about, along with worn clothing and various other trash, but in the time he'd lived in the States, Alfie hadn't purchased anything to add to his living space. Not that Terrence expected much else. Their home life was humble in a sense that few understood, and as much as they'd always talked about getting rich and having big fancy lives, they all knew that in the end they were most comfortable in simpler surroundings.

So there Terry stood, taking a handful of cold water and letting it wash over his face. It was a refreshing feeling, the water crystal clear, no rust from the pipes like back home. He looked at his reflection as though it were a separate rat, talking to him and doing his best to reassure him that things were going to be fine.

"C'mon, 'en, ol' boy. No time like th' prez, eh?" he said to the other Terrence, taking in a deep breath. "S'like Tony said. He ain't a monsta. He's y' kinny. Not gon' throw y' out."

With one last bracing of himself, Terrence Norwich walked back out into the main area of Alphonse's apartment. His older brother had promised him a night out on the town, showing him all that Plymouth had to offer, but Terry had other plans in mind. He needed to talk with Alfie, and if he didn't do it now he wasn't sure he'd ever have the courage to.

"Eh... Alfie?"

"Yeh? What's up, Terry?"

"C'n we talk?"

Alphonse was in the midst of admiring himself in a full-length mirror, wearing the same outfit he always had on back in the Alley but newer, nicer. The same black vest, the same metal studs on the shoulders, but it was all fresh, cleaned and refined. It was strange for Terry, seeing his brother still the same as always yet somehow more cleaned up. He swallowed hard and walked over to the couch that Alfie had against the wall, making sure to drop down heavily to indicate that he wasn't going anywhere until he had a moment to talk.

"Er... sure thing, Terr. C'n y' make it hoppy, though? Night ain't gettin' younga!"

Terrence leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, doing his best to stay composed. The last thing he needed right now was to let Alfie know at the outset that this talk was going to be overly serious. He nodded.

"I'll, eh, make it quick as I can."

---

The next morning, Terrence found himself asleep on a large bed, covers pulled up over him. He sat up, blinking, and made his way down a small hallway toward the sounds coming from the living room. Stopping only for a moment to notice he was still dressed in his same clothing from yesterday (save that his jacket had been removed), the rat crept along. Despite knowing better, he still felt like he couldn’t let his guard down.

Unsurprisingly, all Terry found was Antonio in the kitchen, in a pair of flannel pants and a sleeveless shirt on. He was cooking breakfast.

Tony turned toward Terry with a small grin on his face. “Buenos dias, rata,” he said with a chime to his voice. “I hope you slept well.”

Ears flushing red, Terry nodded. “Er, yeh. Sorry, guess I was more tired ’n I knew, mate,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

Antonio shook his head. “A good siesta is just what you needed, and a big breakfast as well. We have a big day today!”

That caught Terry off-guard. “We do?” he asked, awkwardly. “Oh wait. D… d’ye ‘ave a game t’day, Tone?”

Catching the concern on Terrence’s face, Antonio shook his head. “Oh no, no. I wouldn’t have you here if I was to be out for a game. This is a vacation for us both, rata!” he said with a smile. “No, I’m going to take you out for a proper date,” he slipped the word in carefully to watch or the reaction. “And hopefully you will not fall asleep quite so early, si?”

Terrence curled his toes briefly. A date? He’d never been on one before. He nodded regardless. “Great! Er, can’t wait, Tone!”

The two sat and ate at the same table Terry sat at the night before for his stargazing, while Antonio rattled off his plans for the day. A drive into town, a museum, clothes shopping, maybe a movie, a meal at a fancy restaurant (he’d already called in for reservations), a stop at a lounge for some music that didn’t involve anyone getting punched in the teeth, then back home to relax, watch another movie, have a few drinks. Antonio’s demeanor didn’t suggest that he expected anything beyond what he said, but Terrence, secretly, hoped he did.

Seeing Winnipeg up close was different than Las Vegas, which was really Terrence’s only point of reference for North America up to that point. Vegas was a giant tapestry of loud noises and blinking lights, a thousand neon signs vying for attention on the main strip. It was a town that wasn’t meant to be lived in. Winnipeg, by contrast, was just that. Antonio was clearly a regular at most of the locales he took Terry to, or maybe they just knew him from television, but regardless every barista and sales associate smiled and greeted Antonio with a kind of familiarity he hadn’t seen in the whiplash-fast world of Las Vegas.

It was a city Terrence could imagine himself living in.

Unlike his older brother, Terrence rather liked clothes shopping. He didn’t get giddy over the latest fashions or even know what they were, but he wanted to look good. He wanted to look better than the ripped up jeans and shirts that typified the Alley. Of course, he had no idea what that would entail.

Fortunately, Antonio was more than happy to help. Stopping at a clothier along what Terrence assumed was a main strip of town, the tall grasshopper flagged down one of the employees and nodded toward his companion.

“Si, Chris? Terrence here needs our help.”

The almost overly well groomed husky feigned a dramatic gasp. “Oh yes he does. Come come, we’ll get you all set up!” he insisted, taking Terry by the arm and guiding him toward the rear of the store.

Terrence felt like he was on display as he got nudged into one of the dressing rooms with an armful of different outfits. He sheepishly walked out with the first one while Chris and Tony looked him over, telling him to turn this way and that, before shaking their heads and telling him to try the next. This repeated for the next few, although slowly Terry grew more comfortable, and began to enjoy the way the two in front of him applauded for some outfits and made little compliments about his appearances. By the end he was telling Chris to go get more, he wanted to try everything.

Finally, after much longer than any of them had planned, Antonio selected what he felt were the best outfits and handed them to Chris. “These, mi amigo.”

Terrence stopped. He walked over to Tony’s side. “W-wait, mate, I can’t take those.”

Both dog and bug looked perplexed. “Why not?” the husky asked. “You looked so nice!”

Once again, Terrence Norwich fiddled his claws at each other. He tried to speak more to Tony, as though he could remove the canine from the conversation. “I can’t just go home with all ‘ese new clothes. Alfie’d never take me a place like ‘is. Sides, I can’t afford all that. I mean, thanks f’ lettin’ me try it on, lad, but I can’t…”

Antonio’s antennae drooped faintly. He knew that was true. A weekend with his brother would have been full of all kinds of activity, but going clothes shopping probably wouldn’t be on the schedule. He and Chris exchanged glances a moment, the dog not understanding the problem and guessing he should keep his muzzle shut for the time being, until Tony nodded.

“Well, Terry, how about this, then! We buy these, and I will keep them. Then, we will worry about how to get them to you later. That would work, si?” He leaned in, hand resting on Terrence’s shoulder, up near his neck. “This is a gift. To say I’m sorry no one has been able to do this for you before. You deserve better.”

Terry smiled, broader and more genuinely than he had since he arrived.

“Thank you, Tone.”

Tony grinned, “Besides, we can’t have you wearing this to dinner.”

---

Alphonse snagged a beer from the fridge and dropped on the sofa next to Terrence, popping the tab to it and leaning back. In stark contrast to Terry, all hunched inward on himself, Alphonse was splayed out in all directions. His legs were stretched, the heels of his boots digging into the carpet, and his arms were rested on the back of the cushions. Terry looked over at him, that signature mohawk glued tall, broad chest only barely hidden by the white wife-beater. For a moment, he understood why it felt like others saw him as a bogeyman, and realized that if it weren't his brother he'd likely see the big rat in the same light.

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Terrence looked down at the floor. "Y... y'know how I ain't had too many girlfriends?"

Alfie let out an amused snort, holding up the beer can as if in a toast. "Y' fuckin' right I do. Always been proud o' you, mate. Th' birds been tryin' t' pin y' down since y' first stepped up with th' Bastards, but y' managed t' keep y' freedom. Good on ye!" He took a big gulp of his beer, grunting. "Fuck me Yankees don't know how t' make a lager."

Terry laughed awkwardly. "Yeah well... I uh... y'know, I uh, I ain't eva had a girlfriend, actually..."

That admission clearly made Terrence's big brother tense up, the broad-shouldered rat's whole body seeming to hold in place for a brief moment before shrugging off the awkwardness. "Yeh? Well, y' still a young 'un. Time yet, eh?" he said with a grin toward Terry, though it seemed barely held together, like there were threads tugging his mouth upward that were ready to break at any moment.

Terrence's breathing was heavy. This was it. He'd started the ball down the hill and there was no stopping it now. He had to complete the admission to his brother, or else leave him wondering why the conversation had started in the first place. His chest was heaving, he felt lightheaded. Years of staying hidden were beginning to gather up, piling, reminding him why he'd kept his secret a secret for so long. This was Alphonse Norwich IV, one of the most feared Biters of Rat Alley, a rat known to split skulls just because, and yet... it was still his brother. His flesh and blood. A rat he'd been with since they were both pissing messes on the floors back at the first house in the Alley. They'd been through everything together. It was like Tony said, he had to understand, didn't he? He couldn't see him as a blanker like the others, could he?

"Well... er... I don't think, Alfie..."

Alphonse sat his beer on his knee and turned his head toward Terrence, eyes narrowing. "Y' don't?" he repeated. It was a carefully measured sentence, both words coming out slowly, deliberately. There was no question about his intentions.

Terry was doing his best to keep it together, but it wasn't going well. He already regretted starting the conversation, but by then it was too late. With each word he spoke he sealed his fate more than the one prior. He grabbed his beer and tipped it upward, gulping down as much of it as he could. Alfie was right, Americans didn't know how to brew a beer, but at least it helped dull the pain of what was to come. Terry was steeling himself for the worst, thinking over escape plans, where to go after Alfie threw him out. He didn't know exactly, but was prepared for it all. At least, he thought he was.

"Alfie, what would y' say if... if... y' brotha was a..." Terrence couldn't even say the word. He stared down at the floor, his face tensed up, speaking to the carpet. He couldn't bear to turn his head toward Alphonse, as if he didn't acknowledge his brother, maybe he wouldn't even notice. Maybe he would get bored and forget the conversation and go to the bathroom, and maybe they could just go on with their night out at the bars as if this had never happened. Maybe Terrence could go back to pretending. Anything other than this.

The silence hung heavy on the air. Terrence didn't finish, neither did Alphonse finish for him. Instead, the older Norwich's humor drained from his face. He sat there, rocking his beer against his thigh for a few seconds, jaw muscles visibly clenched tightly, before standing up and suddenly throwing it against the far wall. The half-full can smacked into the drywall, the sound of it making Terrence jump, its contents spraying in all directions and its thrower silently walking out of the room, into the kitchen.

Seconds stretched out to their limits, the only sound in the air being the muted sizzle of beer foam as it cascaded down toward the floor. There was no sound coming out of the kitchen, no clue as to what the older rat was doing. Swallowing hard, Terrence sat and waited, though his eyes flickered toward the door several times. He could go now, and spare himself facing his brother's wrath, but something kept him in his seat. Whether it was the need to see this through to the end or the fear of what would happen if he scarpered, Terrence Norwich remained in his brother's apartment, chewing on the clawtips at the end of trembling fingers, already jagged and cracked from earlier gnawing, and waited. Waited.

---

Dinner was the only part of the trip that reminded Terry of Vegas. It was a grand affair, with tables that had flowers and fancy folded napkins on them, and a pianist playing live music all the while. He understood why Tony insisted that he accept at least one of the outfits from earlier, his Alley clothing would have been unacceptable in such a fine restaurant.

The two were taken to their table, wine was served, and Tony ordered entrees for the both of them (much of it was in French, not that Terry would have known what to get even if it were in English). They drank, they ate, and for once the small talk wasn’t so forced. But, once again, Antonio felt the need to be serious for a moment.

“Terrence, there’s one thing…”

“Wot, Tone?” Terry responded, around a mouthful of prime rib. It made Antonio chuckle, how ill-mannered Terry was without realizing. Somehow, he was gentle even in how he ate like a slob.

“You… told your family that you were visiting your brother, si?”

Terrence’s posture took another familiar hunch, and he nodded. “Yeh. I mean, just f’ this time. I’ll ‘ave a better story next time, eh?”

Antonio looked down at the table a moment. “I can understand why you would not want your home town to know where you are, but you should tell Alphonse at least.”

Terry blanched, then laughed. “Y’ tuggin’ me, mate?? Tell Alfie? Tell ‘im wot, eh? Oh ‘ey Alfie, y’ brutha’s a blanka, an’ he was out visitin’ some buzza in Canada an’ ‘ow d’ ye like ‘at?” He sighed, noticing how his sharp response had affected the big grasshopper, that faintly saddened expression even more pronounced with such striking features. “Tone, I… I can’t, mate. D’ye know what ‘e’d do t’ me?”

Antonio reached across the table and put his hand on Terrence’s. “He is your hermano, tu familia. He will love you no matter who you are.”

Terrence sighed and looked away. “I dunno ‘ow it was f’ you to tell y’ fam, but th’ Alley… it’s more ’n just worryin’ ‘bout gettin’ called names and havin’ y’ friends not look at y’ the same, Tone. An’ Alfie… well you’ve seen ‘im.”

After a pause, Antonio nodded, squeezing Terry’s wrist. “I have. But familia is more important than… some gang, or a band. And you can’t hide from him forever, rata. If you do not tell him now, what happens when you can’t keep up the lies?”

Breathing more heavily than before, Terrence tried to avoid eye contact. Antonio was right. He had to tell his brother. He’d have to visit Alphonse in Hawaii, alone, and he would have to tell him the truth.

---

Alfie returned to the living area, a fresh beer in his big hand. He dropped down onto the couch again beside Terrence and pressed his eyes into his hand, kneading at the bridge of his muzzle. "Fuckin' 'ell, Terry."

"Alf... Alfie..." Terrence began, voice unsteady. He was angry at himself for beginning the conversation, now that he couldn't back out of it, and angrier still that he'd thought it was something he could set into motion with no problems. He felt selfish, arrogant, for thinking it was a conversation he could start problem-free. Yet, that the walls were still standing helped give him some semblance of reassurance.

"No. No, Terry. Just... stop," Alphonse said sharply, eyes still closed.

"Alfie, I just... I w-"

"Terry, shut y' FUCKIN' gob, will ye?" Alphonse barked, drawing an immediate silence from his younger brother. Terry's knees pressed together, his lean arms hugged around himself, trying with all his might to turn inward and hide in his own skin. He just wanted to get it over with. Whatever fury was coming his way, just to get it out so he could go home and be done. This was his last day with his brother, he just hoped it wasn't his last day as a Norwich. If he was lucky, Alphonse would at least agree to keep quiet and the two of them could pretend to get along for the family. If he wasn't lucky... well, Terrence didn't want to think about that.

The eyes of Alphonse Norwich stayed locked on the floor in front of him, like there were answers embedded in the carpet and he just needed to focus hard enough to interpret them. He took a deep breath and slumped forward, fingers laced together and elbows on his knees.

"...been waitin' a long time f' this, Terry."

Terrence had prepared for many scenarios leading up to this. He'd rehearsed, talked into the mirror, gone over all the outcomes. This was not one of them. His brow furrowed, confused. "Y... y' what?"

A quiet hiss sounded as Alphonse took another slow breath, measuring himself. "Terry..." he said, turning to look at his brother. "I know. A'right? I know."

Terrence's jaw went slack, eyes locked on Alphonse. "W... what y' mean, you know?"

Alphonse kept looking down at the floor, taking a large sip from his fresh can, the contents of the other still splattered against the wall across from him. "C'mon, Terry. Y' think afta all these years I couldn't figga? I know y' don't pop me f' the swiftest, but gimme somethin' 'ere." He let out a small snort of a laugh. "All those girls y' said y' was with. Y'know, I... I actually got a couple of 'em. Ran into 'em at a couple o' Bastards shows. Didn't quite have th' same story."

It was a direction Terrence had never expected the discussion to go, and none of his prepared responses were appropriate. He was stuck in gobsmacked silence, his brain desperately trying to wrap around the idea that his brother had known all this time. But that was impossible, he thought. How could he? And if he did, why didn't he say something? Past years began to flash through Terrence's mind, every time Alphonse stood up to brag about Terry's popularity with the ladies, his virility, and defending him against accusations that he was making things up. It couldn't be true, could it?

"B... but... if y' knew..." Terry began.

Alphonse cut him off. "Well... I didn't KNOW. I 'ad a strong feelin'. An' as long as it was just a feelin', and not knowledge, I could still tell th' fellas 'at you's just like th' rest of us an' not be lyin' to 'em. Y' think no one noticed y' NEVA 'ad a bird come at ye sayin' she's got y' pups? They'd ask me, an' far as I knew y' just got lucky. A lot." He shook his head. "I remember what 'appened to Liam. Couldn't let 'at be you."

The name echoed deep within Terrence's mind, like a church bell. "Liam..."

"Aye, Liam. Poor bastard's had t' pretend 'e loves 'at girl o' his just t' save 'is own hide. Like 'at boyfriend o' his was just a accident." Terrence's whole body tensed, waiting for his brother to explain how he'd figured that out as well, but it never came. That secret, it seemed, had remained secret, and Terrence felt no desire to add it to the mix. "Long as 'ey had me tellin' 'em you's on th' up an' up, y' had nothin' t' worry about."

Terrence's breathing grew heavy, his chest heaving. He'd spent so long bracing himself for the worst Alphonse could have done, he never considered the opposite side. That his brother, the big bad Biter Boy, would not only have accepted him, but protected him. He shook his head, still in disbelief. It had to be Alfie's attempt at shielding himself. "But... but... th' Bitas, an' y'... y' was okay wit'... wit' me...?"

Another dry laugh came from Alphonse as he put his now empty beer down on the floor. "If ye'd told me a couple years back, this jaw woulda gone different, mate. Back when th' lads was bruisin' up Liam an' whoeva else, I's right behind 'em. Thought those blankas was a filthy lot, out 'ere helpin' end the species. But..." he let out a sigh. "I saw 'ow you was tryin' so 'ard. Rememba when you'n Piper got paired up at 'at party? Said y' shagged 'er? Was obvy y' didn't, but..." he looked over at Terrence for the first time since the conversation started. "I could see y' wished y' had. Th' otha fellas didn't know ye well enough to see when y' tellin' porkies, but I could. Spent a while thinkin' about 'at night."

Alphonse dropped back against the couch, his expression still every bit as serious as before. "I thought yer, er, type was just bein', I dunno, selfish. Took a li'l bit 'fore I clicked it 'at... it's just how ye's made." He shook his head. "An' then y' come ova 'ere an' make chums wit' that buzza?"

He didn't know why he did it, but Terrence spoke up in defense of his boyfriend. "Tony."

There was a pause, with Alfie glancing sideways at Terrence. He nodded, then, showing still more acceptance than Terry would have ever expected. "Aye, Tony. Y' know, 'at bloke ain't kept it hidden. So when you two started bein' mates, an' you made ‘at hop out 'ere t' see 'im..." He chuckled at Terrence's surprised expression. "Yeh, mate. Think th’ nest wasn’t askin’ about when you came out t’ “visit me”?” he said, emphasizing the last two words.

“Wh… what did you…”

Alphonse shook his head. “Just told ‘em we’s havin’ a grand ol’ time, mate.”

Terrence's ears folded down, feeling more guilty now than ever. "Alfie... I didn't mean t'..."

Alphonse shook his head. "Toss it," he said firmly, not leaving any room for argument. "Y' me kinny, I wasn't gonna put y' out. Sides, ain't like I neva lied to mum about where y' were before." A grin spread on his face, the first genuine one of the night. It was warm, comforting, and finally eased the tension for Terrence as well.

Silence greeted the room once more, though a far less tense one. Alfie snorted and shook his head again, absent-mindedly cracking his knuckles. "Terry, alls I eva wanted was f' my fam t' be 'appy. F' you, I thought it meant keepin' my peepas looked th' otha way. Leastways I could look th' boys in th' eye an' be honest when I said far as I knew you's just as much a rat as any of us."

The mind of Terrence Norwich was a haze of confusion, half gratitude and frustration at his brother for leaving him feeling as though he had to keep his secret hidden. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to latch onto that part of him that chalked Alfie's decision up to selfishness, that his refusal to confront his suspicions was self-preservation, but he couldn't. Alfie was right. It wasn't his fault that the Alley was so hostile toward... his kind.

Terrence looked over at Alphonse. "Er... what now?" he asked, sheepishly.

"What now?" Alfie repeated, standing up. "Right now, we got a cab t' the pubs. I don't know 'bout you, but I need a pint or three."

Following his older brother's lead, Terrence rose to his feet, though with far less self-assurance. "I mean... with us. With, y'know..."

Alphonse shook his head. "Terry, nothin's changed. Okay? Y' still my brotha, y' still a Norwich, an' y' still the best bloody drumma the Bastards eva coulda asked for. If bein' with 'at buz... Tony is what makes you 'appy, well 'en that's your life, mate. It ain't my way, but it ain't my place t' tell ye t' do othawise."

The two of them embraced, Alphonse's muscled arms holding tightly around Terrence, the hug more affectionate than any he'd given in years. It wasn't a hug of friendly solidarity, like was so often shared between Biters in the Alley, or the daily hugs passed between family members, this was a hug that said more than the long discussion could have. He wasn't pushing Terrence away, he was holding him closer than ever. Afterwards, he made his way to the door, turning to look back at Terrence, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Oh, an' one last thing, eh?"

Terrence nodded, wiping at his nose and eye with the back of his hand, doing his best to make the gesture seem quick and casual. "Yeh, Alfie?"

"Think y' could keep 'at last bit just 'tween us?"

"Er, sure," Terrence agreed, not having planned on sharing the conversation at all with anyone. "...why?"

Alphonse's grin widened. "Can't 'ave anyone knowin' I's gettin' all tenda with a blanka. C'mon 'en, cab's waitin'."

---

More wine with dinner (a lot more, in Terrence’s case) led to a lightening up of the mood, and with the night closing in both rat and grasshopper felt it best to retire back to Tony’s loft. More drinks were poured, and a film selected, but it was clear that with the alcohol in their veins, they had more on their mind than movies.

Leaning up against the tall insect, Terrence had another lopsided grin on his face. “Thanks f’ bringin’ me out ‘ere, Tone.”

Antonio smiled and puts his arms around the rat. “It was my pleasure.”

“Guess I er… owe ye, eh?”

The hint was more than a little obvious, and despite the drunkenness Tony picked up on it immediately. He stepped back, looking at Terry carefully, locking eyes with him.

“Terrence. I am not going to push you into anything you don’t w…”

The mildly inebriated rat stretched up on his tiptoes to surprise Tony with a kiss. It wasn’t a hesitant peck, no. This was a deep, almost forceful kiss. Antonio knew it was something that would never have happened without those extra glasses of wine with dinner, as well as the whiskey at home, but… he wanted it, Terry wanted it. Neither were drunk, but had just enough in them to cast off their fears and hesitation.

Through his faint fog, though, Tony knew this was more than just a one night stand for Terrence. This was a big moment. His first time. He had to be careful. He had to make it special. He had to make it everything Terry could have hoped for. Antonio wasn’t sure he was up for the job, but he was more than willing to try.

Antonio left his DVD player running while he made his way to the bedroom with Terrence, the pair of them doing their best to strip each other down while not breaking contact with one another any longer than they had to. Tony’s back shoved the bedroom door open and he sat down on the edge of his bed, pressing his face to Terrence’s lean chest, kissing a line from his throat downward. He helped the rat slip out of his newly-purchased slacks, the underwear beneath, and stopped.

Terrence’s brow furrowed. He was concerned. “Everything all right, Tone?”

The grasshopper grinned and looked upward. “You are… quite gifted, mi rata.”

Terry’s ears went bright pink, the compliment causing a reaction almost immediately. “Am I?” he asked, all sheepish.

Antonio’s grin broadened. “Si si. And I would know.”

Grasshopper and rat crawled into Antonio’s big bed, not worried about the covers, not worried about the front door, not worried about the windows. For the first time, Terrence Norwich had sex with someone he cared about, who cared about him, and didn’t need to keep one ear aimed at the walls. Minutes, hours, time no longer existed for Tony and Terry. The next day was going to be difficult, to be sure. Saying goodbye, stepping on that plane, flying back to Liverpool, but none of that mattered. The pain of leaving was just testament to how blissful his time with Antonio had been.

It was the greatest weekend in Terrence Norwich’s adult life.