Lovesick

30 April 1999; Wolfpack lounge, Loch Tay Regional Combined School, near Killin, Stirling, Scotland, UK
.
Rain hammers down on the lounge roof.
Ken's head and joints throb to the same beat, even though he's laid flat out on the rug and's two mugs of Soothing Syrup up.
Kris whimpers, squishes his face into Ken's neck.
Ken strokes his hair.
He snuffles.
"Does it /ever stop raining in this ridiculous country?" grumps Aurelie, sprawled beside them.
""Of course it can't,"" sniffs Christian, face-down and muffled by the sofa. ""We might actually /enjoy it here if it did.""
Aurelie grunts agreement.
"It is kind of calming?" offers Mattia from Ken's armpit.
""My head is keeping time with it.""
"Mine, too," says Ken.
"And mine."
"Same here."
""Metoo.""
Everyone sighs.
Over the racket of rain, thunder rumbles.
Dreamboy yelps, skitters across the floor.
"No! Not—! Off!" squeaks Aurelie. "I am not a pillow!"
"You may's well give up. He's not gonna move 'til the storm's over now."
Aurelie huffs.
Dreamboy huffs back.
Mattia giggles.
"It won't be so funny when his bony ass—"
"Don't swear, Aurelie."
"—when his bony /bum is on /your stomach."
"That's why I stay close to Ken, yes? Scared dog will sit on /him, then."
"Great. I'm a human shield."
"You are my favourite human shield?"
"Nice try." Ken ruffles—
"That hurts my brains!"
"Sorry." Ken lets his hand drop.
"I forgive you."
"Thanks."
Everyone lies quietly for a few throbs.
Thunder; the walls rattle.
Dreamboy whines.
"It's alright, boy. This storm will end soon." Aurelie sighs. "We hope."
""How are all Scottish people not crazy with weather like this?""
"I thought we /were all crazy for living here anyway. Isn't that what you said last time?"
Christian mumbles something into the cushions.
"My Papa says you're only not because your ancestors invented whisky."
Mattia perks up a little. "What's whisky?"
"It's a drink for, um, grown ups," says Ken.
"Have you tried it?"
"I'm not a grown up."
""Trying not to answer?""
"Alright, yea, my Gramps gave me a nip. 's dead pure nasty. Burns yer tongue."
"As bad as Saint Hubert's Serum?"
"Icky," says Kris.
"Yea, it is. An' whisky's almost as bad."
"Whisky icky?"
"Exactly. Don't touch it 'til yer at least eighteen."
"'kay."
Ken pat-pats Kris' head, takes a deep breath, offers, "Since we're talking drinks, anyone want tea? I'll make it.
Noncommittal noises.
Ken rolls his eyes. "I'm making tea." Pushes up on his elbows.
Kris and Mattia whine; Kris clings to his jumper.
"Leggo, please."
"Nuh uh."
Ken looks to the ceiling for patience. "I'll pick you up after I stand?"
"'kaaay." Kris releases his hold.
"Thanks." Ken wobbles upright, checks his balance, crouches.
Kris monkeys onto his hip, gets fistfuls of his jumper and shirt.
Ken straightens, shuffles over to the counter, fills the electric kettle from the tap, plugs it in, turns it on.
"Ken?" calls Mattia.
"Yea?" He props himself the edge of the sink while the kettle starts humming.
"Are there snacks?"
Ken cringes. "Uh, no. I forgot 'em."
"Aww ...," says the chorus.
"Will Murron bring some?"
"Maybe?"
"Why isn't she here?"
"She's at the memorial they're having in Glasgow, remember? For the anniversary of the bombing? With Lessie and Mister Fairbairn?"
"Oh, right."
"When are they getting back?"
Ken pushes up his sleeve, squints at his watch. "Another hour, 'least."
"An' how long 'til we Change?"
"Ninety minutes."
Mattia groans, rolls onto his front. 
Another rumble of thunder.
Dreamboy whimpers, buries his head in Aurelie's hair.
"Do not /dare lick me."
Mattia snickers.
"Go torment him, dog."
Dreamboy /woffles.
""He likes you better.""
Aurelie heaves a sigh.
The kettle bubbles.
Ken controls a little startle, fights the tin of tea open, dumps what's probably a decent amount into the pot, unplugs the kettle, pours the water over the tea, leans back to wait.
Another rumble of thunder.
Christian flops onto his back; his arm trails over the edge. "You know, if we could go 'fishing', we'd have something to look forward to and this wouldn't be so /boring."
"Yea, Ken, when'll we be allowed on runs?"
Ken sighs. "When Mister Fairbairn says it's alright."
"That's a pure shite—"
"Language, Aurelie."
She huffs. "That's a crap explanation and you know it."
"Well, maybe, but he's in charge."
"You'll let it go at that?"
"What choice do I have? I can't fight the headmaster."
"You can /argue."
"Aurelie ... we /need him on our side." He sighs, resettles Kris. "Sometimes ... sometimes you have to accept things aren't fair and just deal with it."
Aurelie scoffs. "Why not take it as a sign of something needing fixing and /fix it?"
"Alright, alright. I'll talk him about it tomorrow, alright?"
"And if he says 'no'?"
"We wait for him to say 'yes'."
"We could go without him," says Christian.
"We go without his backing an' we could get /killed."
"No one would kill a dog, even if it was in their garden."
"Maybe not in Germany, but a Scottish farmer sure would."
"But would they kill a /werewolf? We don't look like normal dogs."
"When they don't know if we're mad or not?"
Christian sulks into the cushions.
"It's barely a crime t'kill us when we're wolves an' no one's been convicted for it /yet. It's always been called an accident or self-defence."
Thunder, then quiet.
"So, yea, 'fishing's really /dangerous."
"Then why do /you get to do it?"
"Because I was here first, I think. And I'm older."
"That's /another crap reason."
"Well, that's ... that's all you get sometimes."
"You sound like my father," grumps Christian.
Ken winces. "S-sorry. I guess I don't have a good answer for you."
Christian and Aurelie sniff.
"No need to gloat," mumbles Ken.
"Tea done?" asks Kris.
"Right. The tea." Ken—sags. "I need both hands for this. I gotta set you down."
Kris gives him a Look.
"It'll only be a minute?"
Kris frowns, loosen his grip, slides to the floor, plods over to Dreamboy and Aurelie, plops down.
Ken manages to arrange the mugs and pot on a tray, gets it in hand, shuffles over to the group, eases himself to sitting cross-legged. "Here ye go." Passes a mug to Mattia.
Kris tucks up under his arm.
"One for you."
"Dank you."
"'welcome. Aurelie?"
She wiggles from under Dreamboy, takes the offered tea.
Christian heaves himself to sitting, accepts a mug. "What kind is it?"
"Catnip."
"But we're—"
Ken doesn't roll his eyes. "It's a muscle relaxer, since we can't have more Soothing Syrup 'til morning."
Christian eyes the greenish brew with suspicion.
Aurelie sips, wrinkles her nose.
"Yea, 's pure nasty," agrees Ken, swallowing a mouthful.
"It tastes like grass."
Mattia tilts his head. "You eat grass?"
"I play rugby," corrects Aurelie.
"You are almost as crazy as the Scottish."
"Maybe, but I am definitely hungry."
"Sorry again about the snacks."
"I hope Murron brings some."
"Me, too."
"It's weird, yes? Her not being here?"
"Kinda?"
"Have you Changed without her before?"
"The first couple times. 'til we were sure Saint Hubert's worked for me." Ken ducks his head. "Didn't want to risk anybody's health just 'cos I was lonely."
More sipping and grimacing.
"You two are engaged, yes?"
Ken chokes, croaks, "Who said that?"
"Murron told me."
"She—you're /engaged!" squeaks Christian. "Why didn't anyone tell /me?!"
"I thought everyone knew," protests Mattia.
"When's the wedding?" asks Aurelie.
"There's not—" Ken takes a very, very deep breath. "We're not planning a wedding. We've got her parents' permission to date."
"That's not how she explained 'betrothed'," doubts Mattia.
"Her parents use really old-fashioned words for things."
"Uh huh."
Ken gulps grass tea.
"She really loves you, yes?"
Ken shrugs-sorta aching shoulders.
"Do you love her?"
He rubs the back of his neck. "Yea."
Everyone coos.
Ken's face goes hot.
"/Will you marry her someday?"
"I dunno ... probably?"
"You don't /know? That doesn't sound much like love," sneers Aurelie.
"I'm /fourteen. It's not time t'be thinking about /marriage yet!"
"But if you love each other, what does that matter?"
"It matters because people and things change. Ye ask me three years ago what I'd be doing today and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't 've said I'd be hanging out with you guys waiting for moon-rise."
Grumbled concessions.
"But I do love her a lot."
Dreamboy worms into Ken's lap.
Ken rubs his ears, sighs.
Kris yawns into his mug.
Everyone drinks, with varying amounts of nose-wrinkling.
Ken rubs his worse shoulder, grimaces.
"Are you alright?"
"This one's gonna be bad," he mumbles, then blurts, "Wish Murron was here already."
"Metoo," says Kris.
Aurelie and Christian smirk at Ken.
His face heats.
"What."
"You're not only moon-sick, you're /love-sick, yes?"
Ken blushes harder.
"They're absolutely gonna get married someday," says Christian.
Aurelie nods.
Ken glowers, forces down the rest of his nasty tea, lets himself fall back.
Kris immediately sprawls across his middle, sighs.
Ken tucks one hand under his head, rests the other on Kris' hair, closes his eyes, and waits.