The Bonding Chronicles Ch. 11

Andrew was happy and conversed with his friends for a few more minutes, while he monitored Bruce and Steve, who seemed close to having their problems recalculated. When he returned to the table, the two men wore proud smiles as they pushed their assignments towards Andrew, who confirmed that they had the correct answers.

He helped answer more of their questions, and after twenty minutes, they were no longer discussing Physics or Calculus. Instead, Andrew found himself talking about school life in Arizona.

"How the hell did you come from that, to this?" Steve asked with a quiet voice, waving his hand towards the group of close friends who were laughing and joking on the other side of the large room.

Andrew laughed and shrugged, asking, "How do you go from being best friends with someone, to never speaking to them again? Life changes, and you are forced to adapt."

The meaning of Andrew's statement was not lost on the two football players, who looked at Sara with regret. After a moment of consideration, Steve said, "That's true, but still. Everything about you seems so different from last week. It's the damndest thing."

Andrew looked at Sara, and smiled, "I guess I just needed the right person to push me a little."

Bruce and Steve shared a pensive glance, which Andrew noticed but allowed to pass unmentioned. They were all reminded of how strange life was, and how your perception of someone can be so wrong. Andrew had always known that so much of what you saw about a person was a facade, and as he interacted with those two men, he realized just how true that was.

The two men whispered to each other for a brief minute, and then Bruce asked, "Would it be cool if we came a few more times? This was a huge help, and I just want to make sure I got this all figured out."

Andrew was surprised by the level of uncertainty that Dr. Blake had instilled in the intelligent man. Bruce had no reason to worry, but somehow the teacher had broken his faith in his own abilities. "Like I said, I owe you pretty big, so whatever you need."

The relief that washed across the two mens' faces was profound, and after sighing, Bruce said, "Well, we should be able to come over right after school. No practice tomorrow."

"That will work better. We always start with homework, and then hang out for a bit. Tomorrow is 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail.'"

Steve got excited at the mention of the movie, and looked to Andrew with an unasked question burning behind his eyes.

Andrew laughed and said, "Yes, if you want to stay for the movie you are welcome to, but bring something to sit on, I'm running out of seating fast."

Bruce looked confused, and asked, "What the hell is Monty Python?" Andrew and Steve gasped at the large man. After a moment, they realized the group by the couch had grown quiet, the stunned faces of Seth and Allison looking towards them.

"Man, what is it with you people? OK, this will not stand, you have to stay and watch 'The Holy Grail...' You and Sara, jeez," Andrew stated, with a roll of his eyes.

Steve patted Bruce on the shoulder, easing the large man's concern at not knowing what the big deal was.

"All right, Stew. Get your stuff, I need to get you home."

The teen let out a loud huff, which caused many of his friends to laugh, the large group having adopted him into their fold almost immediately. He sulked as he packed his bag, and Andrew could tell he was still thinking about his character.

Sara assured Andrew she would be all right, and he could tell she wanted to have some alone-time with him when he got back from training with their stern P.E. instructor. Andrew changed into his workout clothes, and loaded his father's training bag into his parents' S.U.V. He ignored the many questioning looks he received, and by the time he returned, Bruce and Steve were finishing the last of the spaghetti while talking to Seth, Allison, and Sara in the living room.

The drive to Stew's house took Andrew through an unfamiliar area of the forest, where the tall moss-covered trees seemed different and more spread out. Large houses stood within groves of dead or dieing fruit trees, and Stew provided a running commentary from the passenger seat.

"This whole area was colonized during the Homesteader Act in the eighteen-hundreds. Most of these places are abandoned or unused. Gramma' used to talk about this place like it was alive, and she would listen to the forest, saying that it whispered to her. She loved it here." For a few minutes, Stew watched the small houses drift by with fond remembrance in his eyes, before whispering to himself, "I love it too."

About ten minutes later, they pulled up to a pleasant-looking two-storey house, on what Andrew assumed was an old homesteader lot similar to the one his house had been built on. The clearing around the house looked familiar, and he could see what appeared to be a grove with plentiful, thriving fruit trees off towards the forest. Stew's parents had done a great job maintaining their property, unlike the people who had owned the land that Andrew's house sat on.

"I should probably come in and introduce myself," Andrew said, as he put the car in park and turned off the engine.

"Alright," Stewart called out, as he took his bag and ran to the front door, vanishing into the warm glow within.

Andrew approached the door which stood cracked open, and he could smell chicken in the air, the aftereffects of what smelled like a wonderful dinner. He knocked and waited until a small woman with a weathered face answered the door, wearing a dour disposition as she inspected Andrew. She looked stern, and as Andrew watched Stewart taking off his shoes and placing them carefully on a rack, he knew that she ran a strict household.

"Hello, ma'am. I'm that strange Williams kid, Andrew." He flashed his warmest smile, which cracked her mean disposition with a twitch at the corner of her lip. She was working hard to be gruff and surly, but Andrew could tell she wanted to like him. The surprised look on her face as she looked upon his small stature was familiar to Andrew, who had seen it many times. Andrew extended his hand, and said, "Pleasure to finally meet you."

She shook his hand, her calloused grip both strong and assertive, reminding Andrew who was the boss. "I trust Stew was on his best behavior."

Her son finished tucking his shoes away, and watched the scene as his mother interrogated Andrew. She would often wonder why he never brought friends over, and as he watched the scene unfolding before him, he remembered exactly why.

"You have raised a tremendous and helpful boy. He was a pleasure to have over, and is welcome back any time." She seemed to have trouble believing Andrew's words, turning her brown gaze on her innocent-seeming child. "We are looking to start playing our game regularly on Tuesdays and Fridays after school. If he can come over and join us, that would be great. His homework will be done first, and we will of course feed him, but it might run a little later than eight."

She looked at her small son, seeing the pleading excitement screaming out of his eyes, before asking, "How much later?"

Andrew swallowed back his nervousness, suspecting the answer he was likely to receive, as he answered, "Probably closer to ten."

The stern expression tightened in her visage, and looking at Andrew she huffed, "That is quite a bit later, boy."

The term did not bother Andrew, who laughed at her expression. "Yeah, I know. But it takes time to tell a good story." He could tell she was inclined to refuse her son's acceptance into their group, and Andrew hoped that Stewart would be able to convince her. "How about you talk it over with your son, and let him explain what we are doing? He really is a great young man, and we really could use him in the group."

The older woman shook her head, but wanted to at least give her son the chance to express himself. She had asked him to get more involved and make new friends, but never expected the request to result in this.

"Well, thank you for bringing Stewart home on time, and have a good evening, Andrew."

"You too, ma'am," Andrew responded as the door closed, and he was again enveloped in the cold night air. He shook his head, and returned to the warmth of his car. "Guess we will see where this leads."

Something told him that Stewart was a vital part of his small group, and he was eager to include the young teen in the adventure he had been dreaming up.

The highway was busy, and despite how early he had left his house to drop off Stewart, he arrived at the high school with only a couple of minutes to spare. The trees were again set against the waning evening light, and Andrew admired the muted rust tones as they faded over the horizon. Even in the dusk, the forest was a marvel.

The gymnasium was again empty save for the large teacher and the few pieces of training equipment which sat within an open bag beside him. Andrew shook his head as the gruff teacher said, "About time."

The teacher knew he was early, so Andrew was trying to figure out why Mr. Spencer would be trying to provoke him. Andrew dropped his duffel, and began putting on his protective equipment.

"So, how do you know my parents?" Andrew asked, hoping to glean some insight on why the teacher would have shown up at the same time as his parents. After a few seconds with no reply, Andrew said, "Yeah, I guess it makes sense why they would never have mentioned you."

Still, there was no reaction from the teacher, who seemed to know what Andrew was trying to do. Andrew had run out of time; all of his equipment was in place, save for his mouth guard.

"Alright, so you have a pretty solid defense for a beginner, but that is gonna do you fuck-all if you never throw a punch. I want you to try and hit me, and don't worry, I won't be punching back. I need to see what you can do."

Andrew raised his eye, and thought the teacher's strategy sounded strange, but he placed his mouth guard into his mouth, knowing that he was in capable hands.

No sooner than he bit down on his mouth guard, did the match start, and Andrew was after his opponent, his jabs and crosses flying out in long and lazy arcs. The motions felt strange and foreign to Andrew's muscles. It only took a couple of minutes for Mr. Spencer to stop the match and spit out his mouth guard. None of Andrew's punches came close to landing.

"OK, now this is starting to look more like what I expected. Your footwork is great, and even when you are chasing, your positioning is right where I would want it to be. But damn, Andrew, your punches are wild, and you have no form whatsoever."

Andrew spit his mouth guard into his gloved-hand and listened to his teacher. He already knew how terribly he had been doing, and having seen his father and Sara spar had given him an idea of what he was striving for. What Andrew was eager to discover, was how to bridge that gap.

Mr. Spencer took off his gloves, and put on familiar-looking target mitts while he stated, "If you have any practice gloves in that giant bag of yours, I would recommend getting them. Those large gloves are going to kill your arms before I have a chance to beat any sense into those muscles."

Andrew shook his head, but grinned in understanding. The idea that his muscles had memory seemed foreign to the small man a week ago, but after all of the defensive training he had done, he understood what the military man was planning to do.

For the next hour-and-a-half, Mr. Spencer ran Andrew to the edge of exhaustion — and kept him there — for much longer than Andrew thought he was capable of. His arms were sore, and his legs hurt from chasing the large man around the room. To both men's surprise, Andrew had learned the many attack combinations he was being shown, and improved his form with almost every repetition of each task.

Andrew waved his arms out to his sides, and tried to keep standing straight; something that Mr. Spencer had warned him about, when Andrew had been bent over gasping for air. His skin burned, and his shirt felt uncomfortable as it stuck to his chest, but he was surprised by the exhilaration he felt by those same things. The sensation of the sweat running down his back made him feel somehow happy, and he only wished that he could feel the sun on his skin. His pulse pounded, and he closed his eyes as he imagined he was in a field with the forest behind him, and some large animal before him — the frightened beast running for its life.

He shook those thoughts from his tired mind, and felt depleted and thirsty. Opening his eyes, he was thankful to see Mr. Spencer holding an unopened bottle of water towards him, while drying the sweat from his bald head. The large man had not been forced to exert himself as much as he had the night before, but still sported large sweat stains across his tank top.

"Thanks." Andrew gasped, before grabbing the offered bottle, dropping the cap as he drained the bottle in a long series of gulps. Andrew felt a depth of thirst he had never known, even after that first day in P.E. He stumbled his way on weak legs to the water fountain, and continued to drink gulp after gulp of the delightfully cold liquid. It was only after a minute of drinking that Andrew emerged in a gasp, before wiping his mouth on his arm, tasting his salty sweat, which still clung to his flesh.

"Ohhh, God, I needed that."

Mr. Spencer's laughing voice echoed out behind him. The teacher had already packed his training equipment, and picked up the bottle and cap which Andrew had left on the ground behind him. The ex-military instructor wondered how Andrew had managed to go from the weak boy he had seen a week-and-a-half ago to the strong young man who stood across the room from him. Even during his time in the military, it had taken several weeks to condition an untrained soldier into the condition that Andrew had reached in a fraction of the time.

The only other time he had seen the kind of steely-eyed determination that he witnessed from Andrew, was from the boy's father. The large man smiled at the memory of Andrew's father, with a fond twinkle in his eye.

"You did good, Andrew."

Andrew was no longer gasping, but he was still taking deep and controlled breaths. His heart was slow to settle from the effort he had put forward.

"Thank you, sir." Andrew said, proud at having maintained a standard he knew his parents would be proud of. "My study group is extending our recreational activities into the late evening on Wednesday and Friday... I was hoping that we may be able to skip those days, and I will instead train with Sara to make up for what we miss — reinforce the lessons you have taught me."

The idea that Andrew was teaching Sara how to fight sent a bolt of genuine fear down the teacher's spine. He still could not place his finger on what it was, but something about how Sara moved and the way she looked at him, made him feel like she was dangerous, as if she presented some kind of threat that caused his lizard brain to want to flee.

"That should be fine, though I would prefer it if you didn't share my lessons with her."

Andrew laughed and shook his head, sensing how the teacher felt about his girlfriend.

"That won't be a problem, sir." The words felt disingenuous as they left Andrew's lips, but he knew that Sara had already learned far more than what he had been shown by Mr. Spencer. While Andrew had been picking things up quickly, he was far from Sara in his natural aptitude.

With that in mind, he let out a big yawn and felt the need to take a nap, his exhaustion catching up to him as he packed to leave.

***** Changes Become You *****

Andrew came home, and saw that the house had been re-shuttered, again resembling a fortress that was keeping out the elements. Entering the house, he found Sara curled up in a large blanket on the couch, with Psycho curled up in front of her. Sara's fingers glided through the cat's fur, while some cheesy sci-fi movie shone out from the TV, and cast an eerie shadow across the room. Her eyes were watching in anticipation, as a waif in skimpy clothes opened a door with dramatic and slow movements. Sara was milking the anticipation, pretending to not know what was going to happen, and jumped as the monster pounced from behind the actress the moment the door opened and revealed that the room was empty.

Psycho didn't even seem to notice Sara's abrupt movement, and Andrew laughed, realizing that the poor cat must have grown accustomed to the act. Sara turned her attention towards the door, and beamed a broad smile at Andrew. He dropped the duffel and crawled into the blanket, his sore muscles protesting against the exertion it took for him to nuzzle up to his woman. The blanket felt warm where Psycho had been resting, but to Andrew's delight, the cat had moved and resettled against him as he squirmed into Sara's arms.

"Wow, he worked you hard tonight."

The chuckle that escaped Andrew brought a tickle from Sara, who held genuine concern for the condition that Andrew was in. He laughed and squirmed as she assaulted him with her fingers.

His cheeks blushed as he explained what had made him laugh. "I was just thinking that Karen might be saying that to you, later tonight."

Andrew could feel her arousal through their bond, and despite her concern for his obvious discomfort, she leaned down and shared a passionate kiss with the man who meant so much to her. His words reminded her of how their relationship had just improved, and that they would soon be spending their first evening all together.

"I'm sorry that our study group has been growing so large, and that I sprung Bruce and Steve on you like that. I know you guys have a history, and I really should have talked to you about it."

Sara spooned Andrew from behind, and buried her face in his neck. He could feel the slight rumble in her throat as she purred against him, her satisfaction showing in the gentle vibration. "No, it was wonderful being able to see them again, and we were able to talk a bit after you left. They are still so wonderful, and seem to have grown even closer since we were all friends together."

Andrew wondered if she suspected how close they seemed to be. "Yeah, they seem like great guys, and I hope that you can start building something new with them."

She squeezed him against her, and rubbed his head with her temple. The act felt natural to the young couple as the movie on the TV continued unwatched. Sara was excited by her deepening friendship with Allison who seemed to be opening up, and their expanding group of friends who were making their life so much richer. The idea that Bruce and Steve might become part of their lives seemed too good to be true.

Sara's simple statement said it all, "We are so lucky."

Andrew relaxed into her arms, and felt his numerous sore muscles begging for attention. The tenderness he felt spreading across his body did little to distract him from the excitement he felt, as he thought about the night that lay before him. Sara seemed to have the same thought as she whispered into his ear, "I wonder what Karen will be wearing tonight."

They both sighed, as they pictured her naked.

"Let's find out," Andrew said, as he groaned while fighting his abused body to extricate himself from the warm security of Sara's blanketed embrace. Psycho hopped from the couch and watched from the floor, as Andrew struggled to rise. Looking back, Andrew noticed that his fiery redhead had been wearing nothing but her bra and panties, which served to accentuate her lean body and all its amazing assets.

His eyes leered as he said, "Damn, you look good, kitten."

"This is my laying-around-the-house outfit, glad you-" Sara's statement was brought short by the large yawn that spread across Andrew's face. "You poor thing, I think you need to get some sleep."