Father Crows Best

Crow Crashes Summer Fling

“This thing go any faster?”

Huxley glanced over at his passenger, literally bouncing on his side of the bench seat, and grinned. “There are laws, eh, Danny.” They jolted in unison as Huxley’s GMC pick-up bounced over a pothole with all the grace the 1989 truck suspension had. Which honestly was not a lot.

“Jeeze!” Danny gripped the dash. “Watch the road!”

Huxley laughed. “Take it easy. We’ll get there.” He winked. “Probably before your boner dies, even.”

“If I don’t die first. Slow down.”

“We’re good.”

“Maybe we should have taken the highway.”

“Trust me. This way’s faster. A little bumpy, but…”

“A little!” Danny squeaked out as they hit another divot in the road.

Huxley laughed again and reached over to squeeze Danny’s thigh. “Easy, Baby. Won’t be long.”

“Hands on the wheel!” Danny squeaked, but also clamped a hand around Huxley’s wrist and held on.

Huxley was fine with that. Skin to skin contact was nice, even if Danny was a bit on the hyper side. He could work with hyper.

For the moment, he allowed Danny’s vice-like grip and left his hand to warm Danny’s thigh.

“Maybe slow down a bit?” Danny said again as they topped a hill. “In case?—”

“No one else uses this road.” But he slowed, because he didn’t want to scare the guy so bad he lost interest in the end goal, after all. He glanced over and noted Danny’s white knuckles. “Take a breath,” he said, keeping his voice low and even. “Nothin’ scarry here.”

Danny nodded and gulped. “Right. Okay.” He drew in a deep breath. “Sorry.”

Huxley patted his leg. “Don’t worry. We’re all good.” He put a bit of dirty in his smile. It had the desired effect of drawing a flush up into Danny’s cheeks and he followed it up by running his hand up until his fingers slipped into the crease at Danny’s hip. When he squeezed, Danny gasped.

“There it is.” He kneaded and was rewarded with Danny’s follow-up whimper. The sound travelled not only to his dick, but down into his bones. He let out his own sigh. It would be a fun afternoon, even if it wasn’t going to be more than that.

As he rounded the next bend, however, his buzz dulled. On the road ahead, a huge black SUV careened down a hill towards them, only barely on its own side of the road.

“Asshole townies,” Huxley muttered, yanking the wheel right to crowd the shoulder.

Even as he did, a crow flushed up from the verge to dart across the road, directly into the side of the SUV.

“Fuck my life,” he muttered and slammed on the breaks, transferring his hand from Danny’s thigh to his chest, soccer mom style.

Danny squealed and gripped Huxley’s hand and arm with both his hands.

“Sorry,” Huxley ground out between clenched teeth.

The SUV clattered by, breakneck speed throwing up a spray of gravel. It didn’t bother to slow.

“What was that?” Danny asked, panting in his seat as Huxley put the truck in neutral and pulled the hand break.

“A crow, I think. Wait here.” With any luck, the bird wasn’t hurt, but he didn’t hold out a lot of hope.

So much for his fun and dirty afternoon with his pliable date. He leaned across the truck to retrieve a pair of work gloves from the box, offering Danny an apologetic smile.

“What are you doing?” Danny smoothed his hands down his pant legs. They shook slightly and Huxley would have loved nothing better than to take a moment to calm the younger man’s nerves, maybe with a long, soothing kiss to his plump, damp lips, and put him back into his anticipatory mood.

Rustling from the side of the road put the kibosh on that.

“You want I should leave the poor bird in the ditch?” Huxley asked.

“Oh! No. Of course not. We should help it.” He nodded firmly and opened his door, but then a delicate wrinkle formed between his eyebrows, and he turned to look at Huxley. “How? What should we do?”

Fuck, he was so earnest and adorable. Huxley sighed at the lost opportunity. “There’s a box of wood cut offs in the back of the truck. Can you dump it and bring the box?”

“Um. Yeah.” Danny scrambled to undo his belt. “Sure?”

Leaving him to the task, Huxley crossed the road to where the grasses rustled, and a low croaking lured him to where the bird was trying to keep itself upright.

“There you are little guy.” Pulling on his gloves, Huxley approached slowly.

The bird wobbled like a dizzy toddler, one wing dragging along the ground next to it. The fact it was moving, he hoped, was a good sign.

“Is it okay?” Danny skidded on the gravel in his dress shoes and Huxley had to grab his arm to keep him from sliding into the ditch.

“Looks like a broken wing,” Huxley whispered.

The crow croaked at them and sidled drunkenly away, eyeing them through one dark, mistrustful eye.

“Hey. Isn’t that the crow from your picnic table?”

The distinctive stripes of white feathers through the bird’s tail marked it as the one they had observed through the window over breakfast that morning. In fact, Huxley recognised it as one that had hopped around the farm feasting on snails and whatever else it could forage in the yard for going on three years now.

“It is,” he agreed. “We got you, little guy,” he told the crow, who continued to stare at him. “Can I have your scarf?” Huxley held out a hand to Danny, waiting.

“My—why?”

“Have to cover his face. He’s spooked.”

Danny fingered the cloth draped artfully around his neck. “It’s hand crafted?—”

Huxley narrowed his eyes at his date. “The bird is in pain. If I try to capture him, he’ll spook and hurt himslef more. If we cover his head, he’ll stay calm. You see anything else around we can use?”

“No. You’re right.” Danny set the box down and unwound the scarf, handing it over in slow motion, like if he took long enough, Huxley might change his mind.

“You can have it back later.”

“Don’t think I want it back.”

“Suit yourself.” Quickly, Huxley folded the thin material in half as he crouched.

Stepping back, Danny watched as Huxley tiptoed into the longer grass at the bottom of the ditch.

“Hey there, guy,” Huxley crooned at the bird. “You’re okay. I’m gonna get you some help, but you have to let me pick you up, okay?”

The bird glared at him and croaked out a protest, trying to waddle farther from him.

“You should stay still. You’re gonna make that wing worse.”

The crow cawed aggressively.

“You sure told me.” Huxley chuckled. “Now take a breath.”

The crow lifted up as high as it could to peer past Huxley.

“Don’t mind him,” Huxley told the bird. “He’s all right.” While the crow was distracted, Huxley positioned himself and the scarf, gently tossing the filmy cloth over the crow as soon as he was close enough.

The crow squawked once, then crouched, feet rustling in the dried leaves.

“That’s it,” Huxley soothed. “This is best, I promise.”

As gently as he could, he wrapped one hand over the crow’s good wing, pinning it to his body, and the other, he used to fold the injured wing.

The bird chucked at him.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, buddy.” He used the tail ends of the scarf to wrap the crow’s wings down. “Box,” he husked, as soon as he had the bird wrapped. “Quick, now.”

Danny, to his credit, moved fast, sliding the box down the slope to land neatly at Huxley’s feet.

Huxley lowered the bird into the box, then closed the flaps, surprised to see Danny had folded his sweater into the bottom of it to make a softer cushion for the bird. That was nice.

Once the bird was safely inside, he let out a breath. “There.” He spread a hand over the closed flaps.

“We have to go back to town, don’t we?” Danny asked.

Huxley squinted at him. “Where the vet is? Yeah.” Not that he was looking forward to that. There was a reason he generally left the vet visits to his father or his brother, Wembley.

Danny nodded, clear disappointment on his face. “That’s too bad.”

“A rain check, darlin’,” Huxley said.

“Sure.” He didn’t make it sound very likely, and he didn’t complain about the aborted adventure. In fact, once the box was situated on the seat between them, Danny spent his time alternately looking out the window and peeking between the flaps of the box to check on the bird.

At a stop sign, he asked Huxley to wait while he poured the remainders of his own warm coffee into an empty water bottle and set it inside the box.

“To keep him warm. Mom saved a robin once, and we read that birds can get cold easily when they’re in shock.” He shrugged. “So.” he checked on their passenger frequently during their fifteen-minute ride back, peeking into the box as unobtrusively as possible and offering a running update each time.

It was the same compassion Huxley had noticed the afternoon before when Danny, in his fancy shoes and expensive wool sweater, had offered to help Huxley’s father feed a pair of twin goat kids. They had been rejected by their mother, who had chosen to feed her third kid at their expense.

Likewise, Danny had been abandoned at the farm’s B and B, on his vacation with his lover, because said lover had somehow not understood the trip had been a deliberate attempt by Danny to disconnect from their city life and spend quality time together.

The lover had insisted on leaving the minute he realized they were staying on an actual farm. His ultimatum that Danny go home with him or find him gone when he got back had been met with a resigned sigh from Danny.

“It was coming,” Danny had said at check-in, after his lover had stormed out and taken Danny’s ride—and most of his belongings, still in the suitcase in the trunk—with him. “Michel liked me just fine when I quietly did what I was told. He’s never liked people thinking they know what might be good for him, though.”

“Seems kind of one sided,” Huxley had observed.

“Everyone is different.” He had grinned then. “I’m not all that sad about it. He didn’t appreciate me, and I wasn’t liking him much anymore. I gave it a last try, and here we are. Or, here I am.” He’d winked and Huxley couldn’t help but grin back.

“Here we are.”

So it had been a no-brainer to agree to drive him into town for some clothes for the rest of his vacation, and watching him try on outfit after outfit had led to the aborted race back towards the farm.

Danny was sweet and earnest and impractical as hell, and, as it turned out, unexpectedly soft, tender, and generous.

Huxley was near certain he’d missed his chance. Danny’s calm focus on the injured bird and the way he watched out the window instead of watching Huxley said he’d used up his supply of vacation spontaneity.

Maybe that was for the best. Huxley had tried summer vacation flings in the past and only had his heart broken. He was happy to leave this one at the doorstep of the friend zone before it went and further.

Thinking of past summer flings—and the vet they were on the way to see—hopefully, he could get the bird in and get out again without having to revisit summers past. Long past. So long past, it didn’t matter anymore. Right?