Colors of Love

Twenty-Five

July, 1992

The first month after the Birth of the kit who'd eventually been named Logan Ryker Dall-McKagan was hard for a couple different reasons. First and foremost was that his parents'd to find a rhythm with him that'd allow them to not only sleep and shit, but spend Time with the rest of their family, too. Naturally, that was easier said than done, although they both remembered that it coulda been worse–as in, they coulda had another set of surprise twinsta deal with.

        But another thing that made it hard for both of them, particularly Bobby, was how the young Neko'd all but shut down once things'd settled down a bit after his Birth. Said older bassist was worried about him, considering that he'd been holing up in his room a lot when the twins weren't in need of supervision. He wouldn't talk to either of them, and that worried him to no End since it reminded him of how Nikki wouldn't talk to him.

        Luckily, three weeks after Logan's Birth, Richie finally bestirred himself for more than just everyday tasks and taking care of the kits he'd all but adopted as his own. Upon hobbling into the kitchen–considering that he was still a bit sore, even now–he was actually surprised when his younger mate actually greeted him. He could still tell that something was bothering him–it was in his ever-expressive eyes, if nowhere else–but it was quite the Change from the last few weeks. Still, he decided it was best to tread lightly, lest he set off a side of him that he'd never met before and never wanted to.

        "Relax, sweetheart," the young Neko chuckled as he helped him get settled at the breakfast nook with his newborn kit. "Not like you're gonna set off a landmine by stepping on it or anything."

        "Well, forgive me for being wary after the last three weeks," he told him.

        "Look, just 'cuz I've been shell-shocked doesn't mean I'ma blow up on anyone," Richie admonished him. "Not unless it's deserved, and you're not the one who deserves me blowing up on them for anything."

        Not quite sure what he was getting at, the older bassist simply cocked a brow as his kit latched on to nurse, said kit's father walking in with the twins moments later.

        "If anyone deserves my ire right now, it's Mom, not you," he elaborated.

        "Whaddaya mean, kid?" Duff queried curiously. "I thoughtcha were just as close with your parents as we are with ours–well, our mothers, that is."

        The young Neko bristled at his choice words, which wasn't lost on either of them. "I thought I was–and it's a damn good thing I don't get paid to think."

        "Well, that doesn't sound ominous at all," Bobby dead-panned.

        "Found out after I brought the twins downstairs for Sirena to check ya that first Time that my dad–he's not who I've always thought he was," Richie explained.

        Lil Nikki and Corona squirmed till the younger bassist set them down, then immediately toddled over to hug his legs.

        "Chu knows the Truth now, Daddy Richie," the boy said as he looked up at him.

        "And dat's what matters," his sister agreed, her tone a lil too Sagely for her Years.

        "Okay, now I'm beyond confused," his shared mate admitted.

        "They were sitting here when Elvin Rikki admitted to being my dad," he sighed, deciding not to beat around the bush more than necessary.

        "Wait a minute–back up." Even Duff looked shocked. "You're not pulling our legs, are ya?"

        "I Wish I was," Richie answered, rolling his eyes.