episode #13

[robling_t]

Turning on the dog-show was a mistake. "I'd do her," Jason declares of a handsome saluki.

"You are a profoundly disturbed man," Button-Down says. "I mean, look at her, she's clearly not even a natural blonde."

Button-Down is at the stage of a cold where restless boredom has kept trying to seduce him into ill-advised attempts to hoover and rearrange the furniture; since it's the weekend, he's managed to lure us over to distract him with the promise of telly and beer. As a concession to illness he's as dressed-down as I've ever seen him, trackpants and a shirt extolling the virtues of his uni's rugby side. Jason has already done most of the neglected washing-up and started cooking supper, clucking over the state of his brother's larder; You'd eat a dead badger if it had enough ketchup on it.

Sandra and her boyfriend have come to visit as well, at least in part under the pretence of examining a patient. David's fascinated by the professional challenges of this world he's stumbled into, and seems to mind spending the rest of his free time down the rabbit-hole with her as well not at all. He and Sandra will make an interesting team when she finally qualifies to practise herself. (Although when one finds oneself thinking phrases like the secret underground network of suspiciously involved veterinarians something has gone rather wrong with one's life, I suspect.)

Being rampaged over by cats isn't the worst way to spend an afternoon comforting a good mate's brother in time of indisposition. Button-Down has added another kitten to the permanent collection; also a tom, so he's forgone the obvious in favour of Iggy. Joey and Dee-Dee can't be far behind at this rate. The new addition's ribs are a toast-rack when I stroke it. Be a great tv show, dude; Jason strikes a pose with Sid in his arms and intones: Wolfman. Lawyer. Crazy Cat Lady. They call him... Button-Down.

Button-Down laughs. Next time I need business cards, man.

The cats, however, aren't enough of a distraction from the parade of temptations-to-bad-jokes on the telly. "How? How would you get it on with an italian greyhound?"

"Love would find a way," Button-Down insists.

David is stifling his mirth. "You two are gross," Sandra says.

"You gonna try and tell me you don't have something going on with that deerhound with the hip dysplasia?"

"Bozo and I are just good friends." She gives Jason a shove.

Button-Down assumes a suspiciously innocent look, casting a speculative eye over his sister and her paramour: "And the two of you never...?"

David's already learnt how to play along; "Nah, nothing kinkier than a good brushing. Which can be plenty kinky enough if you're doing it right," he adds with a wink.

"Keep it up and I am so not marrying you," Sandra warns.

There's a noticeable pause. "Um..." Jason finally essays.

They both look as if that might not have been meant to slip out yet. (Of course a were wouldn't wear a ring, to lose or have to mind in odd circumstances.) "Ah... yeah," David admits. "Seemed about bloody time, we reckoned."

"And...?" Button-Down mimes a chomp.

David shakes his head. "We'll see how it goes for a while first," Sandra says.

It's the sensible choice, to leave some options open for discoveries that might yet come before considering the truly irrevocable. "Congratulations," I say, because her brothers seem in their surprise to have forgot what few manners they do have, and kiss Sandra's hand. She preens under the attention, with a pointed look for her siblings.

"They're taking it better than I thought they would," David remarks. "They haven't even made a joke about green-cards." David is legally resident already, actually, fleeing a future that would have involved far too many sheep's bums for this posher life of looking after spoilt pets as far away from the arid bush as he could get, but marriage is certainly an extra measure of security. I'd envy him the possibility, if the very thought weren't a risk in itself.

Button-Down breaks out the good bottle-of-something that Jason has 'somehow' missed in his round of the kitchen, and we toast the couple until Sandra recalls that she has an early class in the morning. Jason's agreed it's no contest between our catching a lift back or at least an hour's ride on three trains, the second of which always seems to smell of wee with our luck; "Thanks for coming by, man," Button-Down says, reluctantly seeing us all out.

Jason shrugs magnanimously. "Anything for my little brother."

A look of fraternal scorn: "You are only older than me because the doctors had to get your fat ass out of the way before they could find us." Jason mimes punching him, and Button-Down ducks back, laughing as he closes the door.