Redhawk Caldera The lost boys

He would never know that his broken sniffer had been due to nothing more than a deviated septum (brought on by making out with Fox too vigorously, surely), nor did Peregrine bother questioning it. He looked exactly like he had lost a fight with a tree but he didn't care about that either. He could smell. When he woke up the morning following his big row with Fox and found himself sleeping in the whelping den, he slowly found his feet and popped his head outside, tipping his broken nose upward and sucking in a deep, deep breath of fresh air. So what that it hurt like a bitch?

Peregrine had no idea if he was an Alpha or an Omega right now. He didn't even really know if he was still mated to Fox. Hell, he didn't know if he would resume his mantle as hunter, even with his sense of smell returned. All he knew was that he was going to have four sons in about a month and that he wanted to dedicate every single second of his life to raising them right. This litter was no more or less special than those that had come before (or those that might come after), yet for reasons no one—except for fate, if you believed in that sort of thing—knew, he felt a strong calling to these newest little ones. They would be his vocation.

He stood in the doorway a long time, sipping on the various smells like fine wine, and then ducked inside to see if any more work needed to be done before this den was filled with the glorious smells of four little boys' farts.

There was tension boiling beneath the Caldera's structured surface. Nightjar felt it keenly. Always perceptive to things unspoken, the remaining Redhawk pup, no longer a pup but a young man with things to prove and ladies to woo tuned into it on the regular but beyond that, he wasn't paying much attention to the goings on of the pack. Right now, his mind was on how he'd woken up following a dream he scarcely remembered with a little friend peeping out at him, and the following perplexing feeling of dissatisfaction.

He roamed the Caldera aimlessly, looking for a distraction from his inner feelings, and was stopped only by the sound of rummaging. Had he been walking the opposite way, with deaf ear aimed toward it, he would've missed the noises coming from the whelping den his parents had chosen. Not knowing whether or not the location of the whelping den was sacred, the young man thrust his head inside and gruffly called, "'sup?"

Taking NJ in a bit of a different direction to help differentiate him from Farstep. Now with 2x the speaking and 10x the jock!

:D!

Everything was pretty much tidy, so Peregrine turned to head outside again when something moved into the light spilling in through the den's mouth, blocking it. He squinted, ears falling back as a familiar face popped into view. Although his own face ached, the black wolf broke into an easy smile and moved forward, gesturing for Nightjar to move aside so he could exit.

"Just getting the place ready for your brothers," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "Have you seen your mother?" he asked a little edgily. He knew he ought to seek out Fox, set things straight, but there was part of him still reeling a little bit. He wanted to chew things over a bit longer, then definitely sit down and have another chat.

"Nope," Nightjar answered as he moved aside, leaving room for Peregrine to duck out of the den. Whether he missed the comment about brothers or simply didn't catch on to the significance of it, he didn't comment on it, but instead hissed, "woaaah dawg," as Peregrine's battered face came into the light. He chuckled throatily, assuming that his father's injury was only a surface wound and not the reflection of an emotional wound so deep that it cut his pride and his dignity in half. "You look like you got hit by a bear," he commented.

The pack's turmoil was only known in whispers to Nightjar, who had not embroiled himself in the conflict. He didn't know that his dad couldn't smell anything according to the pack. Had he known, he might have been slightly uneasy—he'd once conversed with Peregrine about leaving the sick and weak to die—but that was where it would have ended. He was, however, blissfully unaware of all of this and a little too slow to catch on to Peregrine's strained tone, so he launched instantly into another topic.

"My thang was stickin' up this morning," he blurted out. "What gives?"

Did I say jock? I might've meant gangster? Idk this attitude change'll develop as I go along. >_> He will retain his instincts if not his dignity!

Lovin' it!

Peregrine couldn't help but flash a quick, bemused smile at Nightjar's astute observation. "Would you believe your old man lost in a fight... against a fucking tree?" He shook his head. It sounded ridiculous. He almost mentioned how it had miraculously restored his sense of smell but as far as Peregrine knew, Nightjar wasn't aware of his loss of smell. If his son proved him wrong and asked about it, he would be happy to explain. Until then, he left it alone.

Nightjar promptly derailed Peregrine's entire train of thought with two little words: "my thang." The swarthy wolf quirked a brow at his son, then laughed, shaking his head again. Luckily, he wasn't really one to shy away from the birds and the bees. If it had been Wildfire or Raven, he might have felt a little weirder about it, but Peregrine wouldn't mind discussing the beauties of dick ownership with his young adult son.

"Sounds like you had a boner," he replied in that same matter-of-fact tone as earlier. "You won't be sexually mature for another year or so... so this actually means it's the perfect time to really start exploring your sexuality. No risk of pregnancy," Peregrine said sagely.

"Huh," he marvelled, leaning his head down to peer very conspicuously at the space between his legs. There was nothing there now, or well, nothing that wasn't normally there. Certainly not the little monster that had greeted him in the morning. He hadn't been horrified, per se—he knew what his little friend did, but it had never been there to greet him before. The weird longing sensation was still very much there, if subdued. It came to the forefront of his mind as he stared at the empty air where his junk ought to have been, and then he shifted uncomfortably. No wonder they called it a boner. It was like having an extra one.

"What, you mean... Stick it in the chickies? They'll let me?" Nightjar knew a little bit about how sex was supposed to work, but never really understood, perhaps because he was too dense to visualize it and not exactly the most mature wolf in the world. When it came to instinctual things, he was very mature, but otherwise he was still very much a kid. Still, the prospect of ladies suddenly letting him do the things he only experienced in his dreams was decidedly exciting. "Yo, lil' homes!" he called, tilting his head down once more to serenade his privates with the sweet, sweet coaxing of his half-pubescent voice. "Wakie wakie, we got ladies to see!"

He was only a little disappointed when nothing happened. There weren't really any ladies anyway. Unabashedly, he announced, "I d'know how to use it."

He smirked at his son's crass language, happy that Nightjar took after him that way. It reminded him of bantering with Atticus back in the day. They would make dick jokes all the live long day. They would have done the same with Crete too, but of course he had been a mute. Strangely, thinking of both his long-lost brothers did not awaken much emotion in Peregrine. He felt a faint twinge, a bit of warmth. That was all.

"Maybe. Don't stick it in one without her express permission, NJ," the father said a bit more sternly before lightening his tone again. "But if she's down—and not in heat and not, like, a child—then... go for it." It was interesting but certainly not unexpected that Nightjar only mentioned women. Who and how many he slept with was his business alone, however, so his father didn't say anything about it.

"Uhh," he said laughingly when Nightjar tried to coax his dong into showing itself. "It only happens when you're aroused." And though he had discussed some of the basics to his son when he was younger, Peregrine went over the particular mechanics now to fill in the blanks the kid's otherwise killer instincts hadn't filled.

"Pfft," he voiced with a faux cocky air. "Like any lil mama would say no to this." Try as he might, he couldn't seem to sashay his hips. There wasn't really anything to sashay. He was like Johnny Bravo, all shoulders and no waist. Still. Ladies were all about the shoulders, and he was all about the ladies. Starting today, apparently. Prior to waking up with his very first morning wood, Nightjar's interest in females had been tame. Definitely there, but tame. It must've been a very good dream, for the moment Peregrine made the connection between his peeping friend and women, suddenly sticking it in one of them to experience the magic of sex was all he could really think about.

Thankfully, the only ladies around that he knew of were his mom, his godmom or they were kind of old (Shar-kali and to a lesser extent, Somnia) compared to him, and the thought of sticking it in an older lady gave him the heebie-jeebies. One day, when it was about more than just his pubescent boy desires, perhaps the thought wouldn't freak him out so much. Presently, he made a face. With these feels, the thought of sticking it in a dude wouldn't appeal to him anytime soon, if ever.

"Ooooh," he drawled when Peregrine finished his explanation. Lectures were kinda dry, so Nightjar hadn't paid complete attention to it, but hey, a little stroke here, a little lick to the cheek there, bing bang boom. "So, pops, who should I woo with my squiggly-squoo?"

Nightjar took after his mother as far as attention spans went, so Peregrine kept it quick and dirty. When he finished, he eyeballed his son, wondering if he had any questions. Just the one, it seemed. Where had he picked up all this slang? Not that he minded. He could use the laugh, even if every snicker and snort made his nose throb.

"Well, your mother's off limits," Peregrine began at the top, feeling a weird sensation ripple through him at the thought of Fox. "Or any other relative, for that matter," he thought to include. "And married ladies are typically no go, although some couples are more open than others. Your mileage may vary." He shrugged. "That really leaves only Som," he finished, unaware of Shar-Kali's presence in the pack, "or that new girl, if your mother accepted her... Allure, I think? She's right around your age, actually."

"Just be careful," Peregrine cautioned. "Sex isn't just physical for a lot of wolves, especially the ladies. They like things like love and commitment a lot of the time. Just be up front with your intentions and you should be good to go, though." There, he'd covered all the important parts... right? "Enjoy the freedom while it lasts, son. Once you hit two or so, it's a whole new ball game. But we'll talk about that more when the time comes."

He found his mind wandering briefly after all that, considering his wife's (?) question. Nightjar was young, strong, loyal and lots of other great things. He had a great future ahead of him. But was he ready to possibly step up as the pack's Alpha? Right now? Moreover, was the pack ready to be ruled by Justin Bieber here? Peregrine's lips twitched into a smile. He loved his son but he didn't think the caldera was ready for that.

Mom and relatives were off limits. Seemed reasonable. Nightjar nodded a bit dumbly, accepting his father's restrictions. It was easy to accept them, after all; he had no idea how great sex was, nor how a female in heat was a bit like crack, or how when that time came he probably wouldn't care if the woman was a crotchety nine year old elder or a shaved dog with a bag over its head, so long as he could get some. For now, he was happy with the no relatives rule. It seemed grody to think of Fox, Wildfire or Raven that way, anyway.

Peregrine went on to warn him about love and feelings and he very inappropriately sighed, "that's gaaay." Smirking, because his father was at least semi-gay sometimes and Nightjar didn't mean it at all, he shook his head and said, "no prob, pops. I'll make sure to let the ladies know I'm not lookin' for a relationship. This fella is free for all." He was suave enough to convince a woman to sleep with him without giving anything in return, right?

Nightjar thought so, but he hadn't even figured out how to get it up without dreaming yet, let alone convincing a lady that he was a worthwhile candidate for a one night stand.

The swarthy wolf rolled his eyes at his son's playful epithet, knowing better than to take it as a serious slur. In fact, Peregrine fell down several rungs on the latter of maturity by retorting, "You're gay." Because having an entire conversation about fucking chicks made Nightjar gay. There's some Redhawk logic for you. Peregrine grinned.

He suddenly realized that he had made a very narrow-minded assumption when it came to his son's potential picks. "You know," he drawled, "I know you're a bit of a homebody but maybe you should expand your horizons. There are a lot of loners out there, roughly half of them female, and if you're looking for flybys specifically, they might be your best bet. That way you can hit and quit it easier too." He thought briefly of Fox's occasional trysts with that loner—Starling? Something like that—but pushed the thought aside.

Drawing from his thoughts about Nightjar's eligibility for leadership, Peregrine wondered, "I know you're just now coming into your own sexually and all that but do you think you'll want to find a mate and settle down one day? Have kids? Or haven't you thought that far ahead?" he guessed. Probably Nightjar hadn't thought any further ahead than launching his red rocket into the most willing docking station.

"Your face is gay," retorted Nightjar unintelligently, aware of the fact that his father's nethers had become well acquainted with both sexes in his time on earth but not aware of whether or not his father liked to lick other men. The idea sent a bit of a shudder skittering through his nervous system. Jewels in the face wasn't exactly his idea of a fun time, even if Nightjar's idea of a fun time was invariably beating someone up or pretending to in a spar.

"Nah," he said dismissively, though he wasn't even thinking much about what Peregrine's suggestion entailed. "I don't want any o' them chicks followin' me back to my digs." Because of course, he'd rather bang someone who already lived here and would be even harder to shake. Nightjar's logic needed some serious work. For all the joking and (almost serious) bantering about having sex with everyone in sight, Nightjar would eventually prove to be a nervous lover, if not one with a boisterous personality in spite of his general stupidity.

Peregrine's next question about mates and children caused his son's face to squick up into a scowl and he said with a grimace, "ew, no, I don't want no pukey babies." Whether his tune would change later in life or not, right now, Nightjar wanted nothing to do with babies unless they were his little siblings.

Nightjar's reaction neither surprised nor fazed him. He would likely change his mind as he aged, particularly as he neared sexual maturity. Peregrine himself had been a late bloomer in that sense, only considering a mate and pups after being thrust out of his natal pack and forced to make his own family. In any case, the Alpha male wasn't interested in pressing the issue or trying to change his son's mind.

"But you're still excited about your little brothers, right?" he questioned, just to make sure. At this point, he was absolutely convinced Fox was only having boys and didn't even realize he'd failed to omit the other sex entirely.

"Sure," said Nightjar with a bit of a noncommittal shrug. It was hard to say how he felt about having little brothers when he had never had them before. "I hope they aren't like Elwood Jr.," he unwisely said. Because if they were, they wouldn't be likely to be best buds with their big brother, who had long ago classified Eljay a pussy, whether that was fair or not.

After all, the kid had almost ruined Nightjar's litter's first hunt. While his sisters and parents adored him, Nightjar had never quite gotten over his disregard for the betas' son, nor the fact that the betas had had a son at all, which just tweaked his natural instincts in all the wrong ways. Should any of his brothers turn out overly attached and needy like that, Nightjar knew he would do whatever it took to toughen them up.

The Alpha quirked an eyebrow at Nightjar's blunt comment, though he didn't remark on it. He was fond of the Betas' boy, despite his penchant for neurotic behavior (both nature and nurture to blame there), though he understood his son's sentiment at the same time. Peregrine admitted that he agreed, if only because he didn't want his newest children to suffer from the same anxiety and self-confidence issues he saw in Eljay.

"Well, if you help raise them, that means you'll influence their personalities," Peregrine commented. "It's a big responsibility, one I know you'll take seriously," he added, especially because of the casual, even crass nature of their prior conversation. He leveled a look at his burly son, then smiled. Nightjar wasn't the astutest wolf when it came to social graces, yet he was strong, dependable and he lived by an instinctive honor code Peregrine could only respect.

"Hey, I'm gonna go collect a few more things for the den. You're welcome to tag along. If not, I'll catch you later, dawg," Peregrine said, plucking the word from earlier in their conversation. He winked his good eye at his son, then turned and began shuffling away from the den site.

As if Nightjar would take his responsibility seriously! Those pups would have fouler mouths than their father if he had much to do with it, though he grinned and shuffled a paw across the ground as though to say, yeah, yeah. As long as they didn't turn out like Elwood Jr. and showed him a hefty amount of big brother respect and admiration, there would be zero problems with the new batch of pups. Otherwise, well, their first word might just be "shitbag".

"Later homes," he called, choosing to take the opportunity to seek some rest in the shade of the rendezvous site, where he might be able to consider the best way to proposition a woman. Despite being all grown up, Nightjar had never truly left it, and this was reminiscent of when he'd been a young tyke completely reluctant to give up on mother's milk. There was simply nowhere else he was more comfortable, and when he arrived, he did very little thinking about women at all and instead, promptly began to doze off and snore.