Lunar Cycle

“So, we’re done for the day, right?”

Sam glanced over to his friend and music partner and grinned, shaking his head. “If you’re that antsy to go, you shouldn’t have come to practice in the first place, Lyle.” Sam nodded to their other band mates, who gave him knowing smiles and went on ahead. His shaggy-fluff haired singer grinned sheepishly before replying.

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t invite me to dinner on Friday. So can I leave too?”

“Is that all I am to you? A meal ticket?” Sam spoke in mock hurt tones as he started packing up his baby, Lesley, a black Fender Strat electric guitar with the outline of a feminine face in silver on it. He’d had it since he was fifteen and it was the only reminder that his father had left behind. Lyle took this as a good sign and hopped off the small temporary stage, smirking.

“Of course not! You’re also my free washing ticket, and peanut butter-banana sandwich ticket, and-“

“I get it, I get it! Now go on to whatever else you have that’s so important.” Sam butted in, shaking his head again. It was always the peanut butter-banana sandwich that made him feel appreciated. Lyle’s grin widened and he made it half way to the door before he stopped and turned back, a little embarrassed.

“Forgot my jacket.” He ran quickly across the small, homey bar and grabbed an old jean jacket that had more tears and patches on it than original stitching anymore. He was almost at the door when Sam called out to him.

“Hey, Lyle?”

The shy uncertainty from his friend had him turning back instantly. “Yup?”

“I…do I look ok?” Sam scratched his neck and gestured with his other hand at the rest of himself.

Lyle tilted his head to the side, much like an inquisitive puppy, and looked Sam over.

The newish all black t-shirt fit nicely across the shoulders and showed off toned arms well. He smiled a little as his eyes glanced across the witty saying, “rock is dead, long live paper and scissors.” His eyes traveled downward to take in the dark blue jeans that were tight across Sam’s hips, but loosened the farther down they went. His newer pair of sleek black skater shoes stuck out of the almost too long pants and added an extra tone of casual cool. Lastly, Lyle checked over his friend’s face and hair. Long dark strands of curly hair framed an oval face accenting his hazel eyes and falling in longer waves just past his chin to curl around his neck, barely brushing the top of his shoulders. He noticed Sam’s slight blush, difficult to see against the tanned skin, but betrayed by the way he bit his bottom lip, which he only did if he was thinking or wanted to keep attention away from the rest of his face. Lyle smirked.

“You look scrumdidlyumptious! Why, got a date?” The darker blush that spread across Sam’s face to his ears confirmed suspicions and Lyle’s smirk widened. “So that’s why you put up such little fuss at practice ending so soon!”

“No! I didn’t, I’m not, I, aw, dammit all.” Sam cursed as his words became a tangled mess, further proving his guilt. He scratched his nose and gave up a shy grin.

“So who’s the dame? Or is it a fella? Anyone I know?” Lyle asked gleefully, happy for his friend and also needing a name to do a background check so he could beat the bejeezus out of said date if they hurt his friend.

Sam shook his head knowing Lyle’s thoughts as if he had spoken them, “I’ll tell you on Friday, AFTER our first couple dates.” Lyle pouted, which normally worked, but Sam was ready and had already closed his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation. “We’re just going for a test drive, for now at least, and didn’t you have somewhere to be?”

Lyle was about to argue, but he apparently remembered his other engagement and cursed before rushing out the door, calling out a hurried goodbye. Sam shook his head again. He vaguely wondered if he could eventually get whiplash from shaking his head too much. Whatever had Lyle in a hurry must be important for him to curse and almost run.

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Lyle slowed down almost immediately after he was out of sight of the little tucked away bar. He actually didn’t have anything planned, he had just noticed his band-mates’ anxiousness, and Sam’s continued glancing at the clock. The rest was easy. Besides, the way his other band mates skedaddled out of there, it was someone they know, which means its someone he most likely knows, which means it’s a good thing, or it could be really bad. Lyle stopped that train of thought before it could take root. Almost as suddenly as his thoughts stopped, his feet stopped.

There, in the middle of the road, a large black and brown Rottweiler was laying. And it didn’t look like a leisurely laying, more like a “I’ve fallen and can’t get up” laying. He checked traffic and unfortunately saw an oncoming vehicle. One that didn’t seem to want to stop, even for a defenseless dog. Tossing caution to the wind, Lyle ran. He heard the screech of the tires a moment before he scooped up the prone animal. He used his remaining momentum to leap forward, half twisting so he would land at least partially on his back and hopefully spare the poor dog from the concrete. He closed his eyes and waited for impact.

When several moments passed and Lyle found himself still breathing with relatively no pain, he opened his eyes. The car had swerved and, by the skid marks, had missed them by a hairs-breadth. He took a mental and physical check of himself. His jacket had a new tear along his left forearm that showed off a pretty nasty gash, sluggishly bleeding. Other than that, he could only feel bumps and bruises. Lyle turned his attention to his charge. The dog was alive, it, Lyle shifted, he seemed to have passed out more from hunger than any other reason. Lyle could feel the poor animal’s ribs. Lifting himself and the rotty up carefully, Lyle got to his feet, only to be confronted by a very angry driver.

“What the hell?! You could have been road kill! What’s the big idea running into the street like that?! Well, I’ve half a mind-” the man sounded like he would rant for hours so Lyle cut in.

“Yes, you do have only half a mind if you couldn’t see this guy in the street, now if you don’t mind I have to get him to a vet.” And with that note hanging in the air, Lyle turned from the steaming driver and moved quickly down the street.

It was Tuesday night, which meant Kenny might still be in his shop. Kenny was an eccentric vet that most people only went to if they had nowhere else to go. Lyle knew better. Kenny was one of the best animal doctors in town, they had actually met when Lyle had gotten badly scuffed up in a fight. Sam had panicked, knowing he didn’t like hospitals and would probably injure himself more by trying to escape rather than let himself be treated in one, and had set off for Kenny’s in desperation. So, yeah, Kenny was a bit screwy, but Lyle knew firsthand how good of a doctor he was.

It took ten minutes of brisk walking to get to the rundown vet center. The sign said closed, but the lights were on. Lyle kicked the door three times, hard enough to rattle the little side windows. There was a muffled startled noise from inside and just as Lyle was thinking about kicking again the door opened.

White hair stuck out in random abandon and big brown eyes blinked owlishly from a kindly, if a little disturbed, face. The man was almost a full head shorter than Lyle, around the 5’4” range, and most likely skinnier. He very much reminded Lyle of a shrunken version of Einstein.

“Who’s this now, let’s see, hmm, hmm,” the old man’s voice mumbled out as he pulled out overly large bottle-thick glasses and put them on. He gasped, “Why if it isn’t young master Krinn! Well, come in, boy, come in, stop standing outside like a little lost kitten.” He stepped out and reached up a slender hand, giving a solid push to Lyle’s back toward the door, as if he was not coming inside on purpose.

“Thanks, Sir Kenny.”

“UNCLE Kenny! Uncle! I’ll accept no other title from you, boy!” Kenny almost screeched indignantly at the title ‘sir.’ It made him feel his age.

“Right, Uncle Kenny,” Lyle hid a smirk, he loved teasing the older man. His grin disappeared as he remembered the weight in his arms, “Uncle, this dog, he was-“

“Dehydrated, most likely starved and then almost ran over, yes, yes, bring him here.” Kenny waved to an open room and hurried over to a cabinet to gather some extra supplies. By the time he came into the room, Lyle had already laid the dog on the table and was in the process of checking for exterior wounds; it made Kenny smile. Never in all his years had he seen someone so full of compassion that was so scared of commitment. He schooled his smile into a distracted, fussy frown as he addressed the young man, “Now back off, off I say, that’s my job, and I don’t need your dirty paws all over him to complicate things!”

Lyle grinned and stepped back, his hands shooting into the air in a ‘my bad’ pose. He then retreated to a corner and crouched down, trying to keep out of the way so the doctor would let him stay while he worked.

A few minutes into the examination the doctor’s look started to change, it went from the focused doctor to astonished to horrified before being slammed back into focused. Lyle had to ask.

“What is it? Is something wrong, is he okay?” His nervousness carried into his voice and for once he didn’t care, there was something about this dog that made him feel like he had to be okay or something bad would happen.

“It’s just,” Kenny hesitated before he continued carefully, “I haven’t seen one of these in a long while.”

“What? A Rottweiler?”

Kenny glanced up quickly and the brown eyes had a keenness to them that Lyle hadn’t seen before, it almost made him shiver, but before he could put his finger on it the eyes returned to distracted doctor look he knew well, “Something like that. Now I’m about finished here, so tell me, am I going to have to hog tie you in order to look at your wounds?” Kenny raised an eyebrow as he said this.

A confused look made itself at home on Lyle’s face and he tilted his head to the side thinking. A small twinge in his arm caused him to look down. “Oh!” His face lit up in understanding as he once again noted his gash. It had mostly stopped bleeding, but it looked awful, several small cuts surrounded the road rash and he wondered if he might have fallen on broken glass. “Guess I could use a patch job too!” He grinned as he stood, shrugged off his jacket and then sighed at the new tear and stain. Hopefully he’d be able to get it fixed up before he saw Sam again. The man would have a fit. He looked up at Kenny, “So the dog’s okay?”

Kenny smiled, “Yes, yes, probably a sight better than you right now, if a little underfed. He’ll be awake shortly, I’m sure.” *And let’s hope all hell doesn’t break loose*, he added mentally. “Now get over here before I really do tie you to a chair.”

Lyle hid a grin and made his way over to the chair Kenny was holding out. He plopped down with an air that he was only just allowing this. Kenny wasn’t fooled, he simply shook his head and gave Lyle one of his maddening grins, before rubbing his hands together gleefully, like a mad scientist who just got a new radioactive toy.