Bound by Blood (Gay Star Fox Fic)

4 - A Couple of Obsessions

That kind of interaction with Wolf was one that the fox never planned on having, especially so soon after they had reconciled their rivalry. It was a sight that shook him to his core, and the fact that he knew why only made him more internally disturbed. Fox kept finding himself thinking about what he'd gotten that proper glance of, on that wolf company of his. He couldn't get it out of his head.

It was so casual of a build, yet it had those hints of having used to have been well-kept. That hefty chest, and the firm belly beneath... and what was beneath that, was especially prevalent in his mind. His head swam as he showered, and he had to keep himself from getting distracted by his own desires while doing so. It was with disbelief that he found himself wondering what those big arms would feel like, wrapped around his sides. No way was he crushing on his former adversary!

Yet here he was, doing exactly that. He got dressed in his own clothes, trying to get dry the best he could beforehand, but ultimately still making his clothes a good bit damp when they were put on. Typically he'd use a fur-dryer, but there was none in sight. So, with this slightly uncomfortable outfit, he began to look for a spare toothbrush to scrub his teeth with. There were so few drawers beneath the sink, and scarce on the counter.

"Wolf!" he tried to be as assertive as possible in calling out. "Come here for a second."
"So rude! What's the magic word?" O'Donnell scolded from someplace afar.
"Oh, shove your magic word, come here and help me—" Fox shook his head.
"Hey, do you want me to uphold that deal, or no?" Wolf reminded.
"Ugh. Come here, please," Fox rolled his eyes as he was made to say.
"There we go. Only the finest manners from Corneria's excellence," the wolf teased, crossing his arms as he stood in the hall. "What is it, then?"
"Where can I find a spare toothbrush?" Fox asked. "Been looking everywhere."

"Here," Wolf huffed. With determination, he went into the bathroom, and stood directly behind Fox, as he reached for the hidden mirror door. Inside were a few cases of pills, a first aid kit, and a few clean toothbrushes. "These are hard as hell to get, believe it or not."
McCloud was too stunned to answer, overwhelmed with subtle yet conquering senses. The way Wolf felt behind him, and the arm getting around his face to reach for a brush. "H-Hey!"
"Hm?" Wolf grunted, a brush in his hand. "Here. Take it."

Fox hesitated for a moment, taking this scarce time to feel Wolf's breath behind him. Then, though, he took the grush, and nodded. "Uhm, thanks."
"Next time, don't be so rude... kit," Wolf seemed to have spat that last bit, but not in a mean way. It was a tone less of warning, and more of endearment, if that was even possible.

The vulpine felt his heart skip a beat, as he watched the other man walk out of the room and back through the hall. Fuck... He was crushing, crashing harder and faster than any starship ever could. And there was the landing.

But it's not like there weren't still girls to come along back home to! He figured this would pass, as things of this sort do, and tried again to keep it from his mind as he ran the brush along his canines, feeling the minty froth refresh his mouth. After spitting and rinsing, he decided to put the brush back where he found it, and opened the mirror-door for himself this time. While putting his brush away, though, Fox noticed something he didn't see the first time. Reaching into the shelf, he pulled out something between his fingers... A Polaroid-like printout of a picture, a rarity in these times.

It seemed, at first, to be a picture of himself, except with a few telling features that told him this wasn't the case. The fox in the picture had a bit lighter, duller of a coat of fur, too much for this to be an effect of the picture wearing away. On top of that, his uniform was different than anything Fox himself ever wore, and a sharp pair of deep-shaded, aviator Ray-Bans. James McCloud, the first.

The junior fox looked at this find, becoming more and more perplexed as he did. Why would Wolf have this? ...Ah, perhaps a reminder of his team's greatest achievement, killing him. But no, that wouldn't make sense. Maybe, Fox resolved, Wolf was a fan. That's it. Fox was sure that his father was an idol to all his friends, perhaps even half of the boys and girls of the Lylat system. That could very well have been an underestimate. Deciding this was too usual to ask about, Fox put the picture back, and made his way back to the bedroom, to relax for a while.

—

With a clean mouth and body, but less-than-that of a mind, McCloud woke up from an involuntary nap, having dozed off after getting comfortable. He looked at how much time had passed, and felt a touch guilty. His team was probably wondering where he was... Checking his messages again, he typed out a short message that he was about to get a mission report typed out and submitted. Peppy immediately replied saying that it wasn't urgent, so long as he was safe, and with that, Fox asked what the older rabbit was doing at this time of night. "Doing presidential stuff," came the simple answer.

Now came the work of it all, and Fox, feeling well rested enough, decided to tackle it. He got out of bed, dressed himself, then trudged his freshly-woken self into the living room. He didn't have to look hard at all, to see the computer that Wolf had mentioned earlier, its thick, square screen dormant and dead in its own rounded corner of the station, where a main piece of tech used to be. As soon as Fox sat down in front of it, however, the screen clunked to life, dimming itself appropriately, for the lights were all off. Hearing Wolf snoring in his own room, but knew that he wouldn't mind. The startup screen had a dark, elegantly simple profile, with a welcome screen requesting a password. This, however, was conveniently written on a sticky note, on the desk: JMC-rox. Well, that was quite telling... Apparently Wolf was more of a fan of his dad than he first thought.

He got to the main OS screen, with a desktop wallpaper consisting of the red Star Wolf logo against a gritty metal backdrop. Few files were on, and every program was a few years out of date, but there was a network connection, and the word processor would suffice for an official document. With nimble fingers, Fox started that report he promised, greatly appreciating the presence of the physical keyboard to do so. It was quick, he found, even when there were other predictive options available. He got the necessary details of the situation down, and described a few things in-depth, and made sure to include the important status update on Wolf O'Donnell, describing him as a potential ally.

Once he was done with the trivial type-up, he went online, and sent it off, before taking another look at the news. Things sure had calmed down after the conflict, and the fox was always glad to see this. Closing this up, and preparing to shut down, he took another look at the selection on the desktop... A few folders of local files were available to view. Was there really any harm in snooping? Knowing Wolf was asleep, and that he had the ability to cite his own authority to investigate should the need arise, he clicked into these folders, and looked into their contents, wondering what sort of thing his host had stored.

...How did he get this stuff? was the first question that crossed Fox's mind, seeing the surprising amount of pictures there were of his father, ones that would typically be kept to one's self. There was one of his graduation from flight academy, one with his first date with Fox's mother, a few childhood candids, and later celebratory poses with Peppy and Pigma after a good, accomplished mission. There were a few of Fox himself: of his first ride along on the Arwing, of the gravely dim scene of his mother's funeral, and even some Fox remembered having been taken shortly before James's demise. He got a touch emotional, seeing a shoot from his pre-academy years, his dad's arm on his shoulder.

The question still stood at the forefront of his mind, and he couldn't not ask about this now. He scrolled further down, and saw some publicity pictures of himself from far more recent times that Wolf seemed to have saved, too, all the way up to less than a year ago, right after Andross's defeat... Why did he have all this on here? What sort of obsession was this? Having reached the end of the storage, and possibly having heard a stir, Fox decided he was done looking now, and shut the computer down, looking at his reflection in the shiny CRT screen.