A Paler Shade of Green

A/N: Thank you so very much to everyone for remembering and reading this fic, including PaipurrbakRighter! *hugs you* I adore all your comments and love that you enjoy the interaction between Lorne and Kylar so much. They'll definitely hook up but I still have about another 6 or 7 chapters to go before the end. It might take me a while to post all those chapters but I totally will so don’t worry that I won’t finish it. Thanks again and I hope you like this update!

………

Part 5.


Lorne wakes up with his arms around a still-sleeping Kylar. So much for keeping his hands to himself. Oh, well. At least he’s not groping the boy or touching anything he shouldn’t be touching. It’s just an innocent hug. Kylar feels so nice in his embrace – so slender, soft and warm - and Lorne hangs onto the moment for as long as he can because he knows this is the last time he’ll be able to do it. Tonight Kylar will be sleeping in his own bed, separate from Lorne.

That’s exactly what he tells Kylar when he wakes up, Lorne retracting his arms and reluctantly moving away from his young ward.

“I must choose another room? And leave yours?” Kylar’s lovely long lashes are blinking in bewilderment. “But why, Krevlornswath? Does my presence disturb your nightly slumber? Do I snore like a pig?”

“No, of course not. And it’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, my little green frog,” Lorne hastily assures him, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, his fingers scratching through short golden-brown hair, knowing it must look unflatteringly pillow-mussed and flat.

“It’s just what grown boys do here on this dimension. They require someplace private, someplace of their own where they can keep their own stuff. I know on Pylea all the children of a clan share a room like sardines packed into a tin but here, they want to live independently from their siblings, parents or guardians.”

Suspecting that Kylar might be influenced by the other teenager in the hotel, Lorne adds, “Connor is the same age as you. And he sleeps in his own room. I think you should too.”

“Oh. I see.” Kylar thoughtfully turns onto his side, throwing rumpled mulberry hair over his shoulder and propping a small chin on his hand, his brow knitted as he digests this information.

Knitting his brows in a similar fashion, Lorne gives Kylar a concerned look. “You are not afraid to sleep by yourself, are you?”

Wanting to prove that he can be independent and is not a baby who’s scared of the dark, Kylar proudly shakes his head. “I am not afraid. Back on our home world I slept in a cave all alone, surrounded by poisonous spiders and centipedes. Even before that I was alone in the stables, if you do not count the horses. I am used to being solitary.”

“So you’ll choose your own room today?”

“I will,” Kylar replies resolutely, sitting up in the bed. “And I will sleep there tonight.”

“Good. Great,” Lorne says in relief, although he can’t help feeling sad that he won’t get to wrap his arms around Kylar’s fragile frame and hold him protectively during the night anymore. As much as he loves hugging Kylar and smelling his silky hair, being too close to him can only lead to danger and it’s best for both of them if the boy stays in his own bed, far away from Lorne’s wandering hands.

The two demons get up and get dressed, Lorne insisting that Kylar do it in the bathroom so he doesn’t get tempted to sneak peeks at the kid’s intriguingly androgynous figure. After Lorne has fixed his hair and returned it to his fashionably spiked style, they have breakfast at the kitchen table with Fred, Cordy, Wesley and Gunn, the girls cooking this time, the usual morning chattiness ensuing over coffee and eggs, everyone trying to include Kylar in their conversations. Connor and Angel are still sleeping.

After the dishes are done, Gunn and Wes go to train in the lobby while the girls disappear and do their own things. Kylar sets about the task of choosing his new bedroom. Though he could have any room on any level in the large hotel, including a couple of stories up where Connor resides, Kylar picks one just down the hall from Lorne, far enough away so he will have his privacy but close enough so that he can call his guardian if he ever needs to for any reason. Together, he and Lorne clean and prepare the walls of the room (both of them wearing overalls, Kylar’s long hair tied back with a bandanna) and begin painting in Kylar’s chosen colours – eggplant purple with leaf-green trims. One the paint is dry they take the dust sheets off the antique furniture, vacuum the carpet and velvet drapes, make the bed up with fresh linens, stock the bathroom with towels and essential items and transfer all of Kylar’s new clothes and shoes into the wardrobe. The clothes are the only possessions that Kylar actually owns at present so Lorne shows him how to buy things from some mysterious place called ‘The Internet’ which seems to be contained in a plastic box with a glass front. Kylar doesn’t understand what it is or how it works but the device appears to be similar to a crystal ball, with images appearing inside it.

Using something called a ‘mouse’ but which in reality looks nothing like one, Lorne clicks on these images and views them in a closer format, asking Kylar’s opinion before ordering them. Kylar’s mouth is open with awe at this strange store-in-a-box, too busy marvelling at it and staring at the screen to say anything really helpful, thereby Lorne does all the choosing, the older demon selecting and purchasing some more things to personalise the boy’s living area with including lamps, paintings of landscapes and rainforests, a few indoor plants, clay vases, large shells, wooden figurines of animals and other such natural decorative items – anything to help Kylar feel more settled and that the bedroom is actually his. Kylar also gains a CD player so he can listen to songs of his choosing whenever he likes without having to wait for Connor to be home.

Lorne would love to take Kylar décor shopping in actual stores where he can touch and feel the items that will soon be his but he doesn’t think the former cave-dweller is properly assimilated to this dimension yet and it would be too overwhelming for him. It doesn’t matter where they come from - Kylar is tremendously excited to see all the wonderful things as they are delivered to the hotel, spending all day opening parcels and boxes and gasping with delight at what he finds inside, placing the objects where he wants them to go, with Lorne’s interior design assistance, of course.

Surprisingly, Kylar even asks if they can buy some books. Even though he grew up in a poor clan and all of his siblings are uneducated and ignorant, he wants to learn to read and write and Lorne gladly agrees to teach him. Or at least hire the kid a tutor. In twenty minutes, Lorne has that sorted as well, sourcing a mature demon lady on a tutoring website to come into the hotel for two hours every day to teach Kylar written English. She will help him with speaking it as well, even though Kylar is quite articulate and well-spoken already.

Lorne doesn’t care how much this is costing him; all he wants is for Kylar to be content and for the boy to have everything he needs. Besides, running a nightclub is a profitable business and Lorne has a nice nest egg saved up. It’s a good feeling to spend money on something other than himself, or on repairing his damaged club, which has been trashed far too many times lately, even with the non-violence spell around it.

At the end of a very busy day, taking only breaks for lunch and dinner, Lorne and Kylar stand back and survey their hard work, paint and dust dirtying up their overalls and smudging their faces. Admiring his gorgeous new bedroom, the younger Pylean feels a grand sense of accomplishment as well as wonder and awe that all he sees around him now belongs to him alone. He’s never had more to his name than a tatty old robe and a pocketful of pebbles so to have an abundance of beautiful possessions now makes him feel like the richest creature on the planet. But the one thing he has that he values above everything else is standing right beside him. His rescuer. His protector. His idol. His secret love.

“How can I ever thank you, Krevlornswath?” Kylar says, turning to the taller male with gratefulness in his pretty crimson eyes. “You have done so much for me today.”

And always, he adds silently, recalling how the memory of Lorne kept him going back on Pylea, kept him alive and encouraged while he was hiding from the vengeance-seeking villagers and living in that insect-infested hole in the hillside, trying day after day to get the portal in the forest to open so he could escape.

“You don’t need to thank me, sweet avocado.” Lorne smiles, gently rubbing a smear of dark purple paint from the kid’s pale green brow. “Seeing you happy is thanks enough.”

“I am very happy. I love my room.” Kylar smiles back, returning the favour and brushing some dust from the tip of Lorne’s nose. “It is so much nicer than the cave and there are no centipedes to bite me.”

“There sure aren’t,” Lorne chuckles, thinking how damn cute the teenager looks in a pair of denim overalls with a white t-shirt underneath, his wavy reddish-violet hair held back out of his face with a blue bandanna, blobs and splotches of eggplant and leaf-toned acrylic semi-gloss all over him. He looks like a little painter-boy. Despite normally avoiding any type of manual labour, Lorne actually had a great time today. Though he’s dirty and his arms ache from using the paint roller on the ceiling and lugging heavy boxes up the stairs, spending time with Kylar was definitely worth the effort. Hell, he could spend the day digging up potatoes with the kid and it would be enjoyable.

“Did you have fun?”

Kylar nods at Lorne’s question, still smiling. He brushes another bit of dust away from the Host’s strong chin, Kylar suddenly getting an idea of how he can thank his generous care-giver and provider. Before he loses his sudden bout of courage, the eighteen year old demon-boy gets up on tip-toes and softly presses his lips to Lorne’s cheek, empathically conveying warm, appreciative and loving thoughts towards the older Pylean.

“Thank you so much,” he whispers, kissing Lorne’s smooth skin once more before shyly drawing away, wondering if that was enough. When he dares to peek up at the man he adores, he finds Lorne standing there with what appears to be a look of intense longing on his handsome face, as though he wants more. So sure of it, Kylar locks gazes with the other male, slowly curling his slim hands around the base of Lorne’s neck, fingertips slipping into short blond-tipped hair. Kylar’s heart races, as if he were fleeing from Flame Beasts, but without the fear for his life. His nerves tingle. Lifting up on his toes again, he begins to close the distance between their mouths, wanting to give Lorne a proper kiss this time. On the lips. He’s never given one of these to anyone before but he supposes he can figure out how it’s done.

Realising what the boy is intending to do, Lorne pulls back, frowning. “Kylar, you don’t owe me for anything I give you. You don’t have to earn your place here. I told you that before.”

“I know,” Kylar breathes, needing to show that his affection runs deeper than simple gratitude. He senses that Lorne would be uncomfortable being kissed right now but perhaps there’s something else Kylar can do for him…

Slowly moving one girlish hand up, the younger Empath sweeps over Lorne’s jaw and cheekbone, tracing around the unique dark-green patterns on his skin, Kylar keeping their eyes held in a close, connected gaze, ruby into scarlet. Though the older male is consumed by conflicting emotions (like need, desire, guilt and alarm – desperately trying to conceal all of them from Kylar) Lorne still stands there and lets himself be caressed by the gentle nature-child. Kylar’s fingers are so soft and light, his touches like fairy wings. Lorne knows he should make Kylar stop but he feels helpless against the boy’s innocently silken seduction.

Remembering how deliciously nice it was when Lorne held him from behind and stroked one of his horns, Kylar attempts to give his caring custodian the same special feeling of warmth. Reaching up past a spotted temple, he finds Lorne’s left horn, Kylar inquisitively investigating its length and width, tracing the hard, almost woody texture of the curving mahogany peak and the grooves along it. Lorne gives a jolt. To anyone else, it appears to be just a bit of dull bone. To Lorne, it’s shockingly sensitive and when Kylar touches it, it’s like being touched on the dick. Unwanted erotic thoughts flood his brain, most notably the sinful fantasy he had last night of thrusting into Kylar’s lush, burgundy mouth.

A teenager’s mouth.

A virgin teenager.

“Stop it,” Lorne blurts in horror, grabbing Kylar’s wrist and yanking it away. “Don’t touch me!”

Confusedly pulling his hand back, Kylar stares up at Lorne, wondering what is wrong.

In a shaky tone, Lorne tries to explain, “I’m not mad at you. You just…you shouldn’t do that.”

“I am sorry.” Kylar bows his head, upset at offending Lorne. “I did not know it was improper.”

“Well, it is. I’m your guardian and you are…”

Far too young and tempting for Lorne’s comfort.

“Just don’t do that again, Kylarkmar. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” Kylar mumbles again, realising that he made a mistake touching Lorne in such an intimate manner. He could have sworn this was what Lorne wanted but on the other hand, Kylar doesn’t know the ways of this world and what acceptable behaviour is or not. Apparently this is not. Apparently it’s okay for Lorne to touch Kylar that way but not the other way around. The young Pylean has no idea why. This dimension is turning out to be a very perplexing place for him. Things were simpler, back in the forest. Much more dangerous, but simpler. At least he knew what was going on there.

“Have a shower and go to bed, broccoli,” Lorne says in a gentler tone, sensing Kylar’s bewilderment and squeezing his shoulder in sympathy. “It’s been a long day and you worked hard. You need some rest now.”

The red-eyed boy nods in silence, glancing yearningly after Lorne’s retreating figure as the older man leaves the room, going to take his own shower and wash the dirty thoughts out of his head.

Later, a clean and warm Kylar is lying in his new bed with its crisp new sheets, the scent of fresh paint and furniture wax in the air. Outside the half-open window he can hear traffic and sirens. But inside the room it is quiet, only the ticking of a wall clock and his own breathing to break the stillness. It doesn’t bother him to be alone. He isn’t, really. There are other people in the hotel. He can feel them, sense their auras. Most strongly of all, he can sense Lorne’s nearness down the hall and it reassures him to know that his protective custodian is so close. That night Kylar sleeps well.

But Lorne doesn’t.

He too can sense Kylar and knowing that the boy is nearby, but just out of reach, drives the older male to distraction. Lorne misses the kid, even more than he thought he would. His arms feel empty. His bed feels empty. His whole room feels empty. But there’s nothing he can do about it except get used to it. After all, it was HIS idea to kick Kylar out in the first place.

A few restless hours later the frustrated demon hears Connor, Gunn and Wes returning from a job. They had gone to some caves near the coast to eradicate a nest of biker vampires. Angel was off on his own mission, their broody boss preferring to work solo. Still unable to sleep, Lorne goes downstairs in his dressing gown to see how everyone went. Plus, it gives him an excuse to make a drink. Maybe a good, strong shot of whiskey will help him get some shut-eye.

“Hey, guys,” he mumbles. “How’d it go?”

“Great,” Connor enthuses, twirling his favourite double-sided axe, the teenager still high on the adrenaline of the fight. “You should have seen me. I took off two vamp-heads in one swing! It was awesome.”

Then he remembers that he doesn’t like Lorne very much and settles back into a scowl. “Not that you care.”

Indeed, Lorne is too exhausted to care very much about anything at this point and can’t even dredge up a witty comeback for the brat so he shrugs indifferently and crosses to the bar, pouring Irish whiskey into a spirit glass, no ice.

“Yo, Green-Dude. You look like shit,” Gunn remarks, noting the weariness in the Pylean’s eyes. They seem even redder than usual, if that’s possible.

Lorne grimaces, sipping at his drink. “Thanks. Gotta love insomnia.”

“Insomnia, huh?” Gunn pins him with a shrewd look. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that your pretty little bed-buddy is sleeping in his own room now, would it?”

“No. And he’s not my bed-buddy,” Lorne replies, sounding defensive. “I just have a pounding headache.”

“Uh huh. Right.” Gunn clearly isn’t buying that. He smirks and turns to Wes, the two of them sharing a glance that says they know why Lorne REALLY isn’t sleeping.

Frowning, Connor puts down his axe and ventures, “Uh, Gunn, don’t move.”

“What?” The bald black guy turns around. There is a creature hanging onto the back of his jacket.

“Oh no. There’s something on me, isn’t there?” Charles Gunn mutters, feeling movement and freezing in fear. “Please don’t be a rat. Please don’t be a rat.”

Slowly moving around behind Gunn, Wesley peers at the hitchhiking animal. “No, it’s just a species of Megachiroptera.”

Gunn gives him a blank stare.

“In other words,” the scholarly man explains, “a common bat.”

With that Gunn yelps, shucking free his jacket and letting it drop to the ground. He frantically spins around, trying to check his own back. “Is it off? Get it off me!”

“It’s off, Gunn,” Wesley assures. “Though there’s no need to panic. Bats generally don’t attack humans.”

The critter crawls out from under the jacket. It’s about the size of a large mouse. Launching itself into the air with a flap of pink leathery wings it begins flying around and swooping over Gunn’s head like a small grey missile, squeaking. Gunn shrieks, ducking and trying to shield his exposed scalp.

“You lied, Wesley! You LIED!!”

Blinking at the bat’s unusual behaviour, Wes comments, “Well, that’s interesting.”

“Stay away from me!” Yelling, Gunn runs around in circles, flapping his arms over his head as if he’s swatting away moths. “Get away! Get away!”

Smirking at the usually tough man’s rather girlish fear, Connor drawls, “What - are you afraid it’ll get stuck in your hair?”

“Shut up!” Gunn snaps, protectively covering his shaven dome. “Don’t you know what bats are? They’re rats with wings!”

Nobody notices that Kylar has emerged from his room and is now standing at the top of the stairs in his pyjamas, surveying the kafuffle. Gunn is screeching and flailing about the lobby like a panicking woman while Wesley attempts to catch the winged intruder with a fishing net on a pole, the British man shouting out instructions for Gunn to stand still. Connor is too busy laughing and wiping away tears of mirth to help. As tired as he is, even Lorne can’t help letting out a chuckle or two in amusement at the comedic scene. This kinda stuff only happens to them.

“Be quiet!” Kylar suddenly speaks up, his brows furrowed in concern. “You’re scaring her.”

“Her?” Gunn exclaims, still ducking from the assault. “How do you know it’s a girl? I don’t see no skirt on it!”

“I can tell. And she’s just a baby.” Quickly descending the stairs, Kylar orders, “Everyone stop where you are. This instant!”

The surprisingly firm sound of his voice causes Gunn and Wesley to halt in their tracks, Gunn with his hands still clasped over his head. They all stare at Kylar as he raises his hand, his crimson eyes burning with concentration. The demon-boy silently calls to the bat, letting her know that she’s in no danger, that he will protect her. Leaving the object of her attack, the creature flies away from Gunn and over to Kylar, landing on his arm and hanging off it with tiny feet, folding up a pair of membranous wings.

“Huh,” Gunn mutters in astonishment, standing straight again. “Lookit Harry Potter here.”

Lorne is just as astonished as everyone else. He knew Kylar had an empathic bond with animals, because Kylar told him so, but to see in it action is another thing entirely. It’s quite remarkable. Like a mother with a child, Kylar is gently petting the bat’s soft grey fur, soothing and comforting the frightened nocturnal animal. Using hooked wing-tips, the infant female bat climbs up Kylar’s arm and over his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. Gunn’s face turns alarmed.

“Watch out! It’ll bite you!”

“It’s not a vampire bat,” Wesley assures the nervous black man. “This species eats fruit and flowers. They’re completely harmless.”

In a mumble, Gunn retorts, “Well, it’s still butt-ugly.”

“No, she’s not,” Kylar murmurs, softly stroking over a tiny mouse-like head, between pointed ears and down over a wide, flat pink nose. “She’s beautiful.”

Inquisitively coming up to Kylar, Connor peers at the bat, amazed at the way it’s responding to the demon teenager, completely trusting him.

“That’s what you could do back on Pylea? That’s your skill?”

Kylar nods at Connor. “I can get any creature to come to me. And I’ve never been bitten or attacked. Not once I’ve connected with them.”

Looking impressed, Connor remarks, “Cool.”

“Can I keep her, Lorne?” Kylar gazes at his guardian with pleading eyes. “She’s an orphan. Her mother left her behind in the cave Gunn and Wesley visited. She doesn’t have any family now.”

Sighing, Lorne waves his hand at the animal-sympathising youth. “Of course you can. But keep it in your room, okay? I don’t want guano all over my expensive suits.”

“Thank you.” Kylar smiles at Lorne and then gazes fondly at his new pet. “I’m going to call her Fredelia. After Fred and Cordelia.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll just LOVE having a stinking rodent named after them,” Gunn grunts.

“Bats aren’t rodents, Charles,” Wes knowledgably informs his high-school dropout colleague. “In fact, they’re more closely related to primates. You may be interested to know that these mammals have very little -”

“Save the zoo lesson,” Gunn rudely butts in. “I’m gonna go take a shower and wash off all the bat-germs.” He shudders to himself, the dark-skinned man throwing the small creature another wary, disgusted look before running up the stairs to his bathroom.

“Hey, do you think she’s hungry?” Connor asks. “We got a fruit bowl in the kitchen.”

Smiling as Fredelia begins burrowing into his hair, Kylar agrees, “Yes, I think she is hungry. It’s been a while since she was fed.”

“After that, can we go back to your room and play with her? Bats are intelligent, right?” Angel’s son seems excited. “I bet we could teach her tricks!”

“Indeed, they are very intelligent creatures.”

Chattering about the new addition to the group, the two teenage boys cross to the kitchen to cut up fruit and see what Fredelia wants to eat.

“Well, that’s enough excitement for me. I’m going back to bed,” Lorne declares, feeling the whiskey kicking in and covering his yawning mouth.

Putting away his sword and stakes in the weapons closet, the stubbled Englishman stops to give Lorne a querying look. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Nothing a long, uninterrupted sleep won’t fix,” Lorne breezes, unwilling to share his personal torment with the other man. “Night, Wes.”

Wes nods. “See you in the morning, Lorne.”

“Better make that lunchtime,” the green-skinned demon replies dryly. He glances to Kylar, he and Connor at the kitchen counter, delightedly feeding his baby pet bits of banana and apple.

“Kylar, don’t stay up too late. Your tutor is coming at nine-thirty for your first lesson. I don’t want you sleeping in and missing it.”

“I won’t,” the horned teen promises, smiling slightly. “I am looking forward to learning how to read and write. I shall be the first in my clan to be able to do so.”

“Good boy. Connor, don’t you keep him up,” Lorne warns the second eighteen year old. “Unlike you, Kylar actually WANTS to study.”

“Whatever,” is Connor’s disinterested reply, too busy watching the bat nibbling on a grape with little sharp teeth.

Still gazing at the other Empath, Kylar says gratefully, “Thank you for allowing me to have a pet, Lorne. I was never allowed to keep one back in my village.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie,” Lorne returns, melting under that gorgeous redcurrant gaze. “But I meant what I said about it staying in your room. I’m not really a pet person.”

Kylar gives a nod of understanding. It’s not that Lorne hates animals – it’s just that his empath abilities are focused in a different area. His skills are different to Kylar’s. Just like Lorne could never coax wild creatures into his hand, Kylar could never get up on stage and sing in front of a bunch of strangers and then tell their fortunes.

Lorne starts heading up the lobby stairs. “Goodnight, boys. I gotta get some rest. I have another show on tomorrow.”

Connor doesn’t reply, or even turn around, but Kylar glances after Lorne longingly. “Good night, Krevlornswath. Sleep well.”

Lorne’s chest constricts at those softly spoken words. Oh, how he wishes he could curl up in bed with Kylar’s slim form beside him. That would surely make him sleep well. But that can’t happen. Not anymore. It’s not proper. His face saddening, Lorne trudges heavily back up to his own room.

Alone.

“You call him Krevlornswath?” Connor repeats with a smirk.

“Of course. That is his full name.” Kylar tilts his head at Connor questioningly. “Did you not know this?”

“Yeah. But it sounds way dorky when you say it out loud.”

“What is ‘dorky’?”

Connor grins. “Boy, you have a lot to learn about this place, don’t you?”

“That is true,” Kylar grants, realising that his knowledge about LA and the whole world is sadly lacking. “But you can teach me, can you not?”

“Yeah.” Connor’s grin widens as he thinks about all the swear words he can teach the innocent kid to say. “I sure can.”

………

Every night that Lorne has to play host to a bunch of partying demons across town, Kylar spends it with his bat, and with Connor, the other boy continuing to show him what teenagers do for fun. Kylar reacts pretty much the same as Connor did upon seeing a television for the first time, poking the screen and checking the back of the set until his human companion explains how it all works. Like with the computer, Kylar once again is fascinated by this technology and the two of them hide out for hours in Connor’s room, lying on the bed watching DVDs and snacking on junk food; the Pylean developing a fondness for vegetarian nachos and anything with caramel in it because it reminds him of thick amber honey made by the native bees on his homeland. Those bees usually attack and sting anyone who comes close to their hive but Kylar could always charm them into letting him take a chunk of honeycomb without being stung to death. As a bonus, he could make useful and sweet-smelling candles out of the leftover wax. He enjoyed those quiet nights where he could sit in his cave surrounded by warm flickering candlelight of his own making, licking sticky honey off his fingers and watching the mothlings dance and flit about the flames. There are some things he misses about Pylea but those things are few and far between. This world has a lot more to offer and every day Kylar learns and experiences a hundred new sights, sounds, tastes and smells.

With Lorne’s permission, Connor takes Kylar outside the hotel on evening excursions to the cinema, the demon teen in human guise with a hoodie and sunglasses on to hide his unusual features. Even with the disguise, he feels vulnerable being amongst such crowds of people and almost expects someone to point at him and yell, “There he is! There’s the murderous traitor scum! Get him! Pull out his guts and strew them on the ground!” but of course it does not happen. Apart from Lorne, there are no other Pyleans in this city, just humans of all shapes, sizes and skin colours, paying no attention to him whatsoever, just going about their business. His hands are covered with gloves and his face is such a light shade of green that if anyone notices beneath the shadow of the hooded top he’s wearing they might assume he’s ill and not a creature from another dimension they’ve never heard of. Either that or they might think he’s an off-duty theme park performer, or so Connor assures him. If anyone notices his strange colouring and horns, Kylar can always pass it all off as being stage makeup.

“Universal Studios,” Connor casually instructs him. “Tell them you work at Universal Studios.”

Kylar isn’t sure what kind of place that is (only that it has something to do with movies and that Connor will take him there one day) but he memorises the alibi anyway, not wanting to have his real identity questioned and discovered.

Once inside the darkened cinema theatre – sitting right at the back - Kylar can stop trying to be inconspicuous, taking the shades off and flipping his hood back to focus on the enthralling spectacle of modern-day motion pictures. Seeing all the action on a gigantic screen right before his eyes – flying, car chases, underwater shots and loud roaring explosions - makes everything seem incredibly lifelike and realistic, scaring the life out of the Pylean and delighting him in equal measures. From films he discovers what comedy is and even if he doesn’t get most of the jokes he can still appreciate the visual gags, enjoying most of all when bad guys get their comeuppance. He hasn’t quite laughed out loud yet but he’s definitely mastered how to grin.

From films Kylar also learns how humans interact, how they talk and express emotion, what they fear and what they desire, finding a lot of the same qualities in himself, particularly the yearning for love and needing to be wanted. When a man and a woman kiss on the screen he can’t help thinking of Lorne, wondering if he’s ever touched lips with anyone like that. A handsome, charismatic demon such as him must have surely had the opportunity. Kylar hasn’t. Besides the fact that nobody ever considered getting that close to him, people don’t really do it on Pylea. Not like this anyway, so deeply and emotionally and urgently, as if it’s something they have to do, need to do, and have no control over, drawing together like a thirsty Sluk to water. Kylar wonders if it’s actually like that, if kissing feels as good as it appears or if it’s just performing, just pretending, just skilful acting. The idea of such intimacy is intriguing to him. He knows a little of intimacy as he has been held in Lorne’s arms on more than one occasion, however, it never goes any further than that. Lorne is always a perfect gentleman and guardian, his actions nothing more than fatherly and if he ever kisses Kylar, it’s always chaste, on the forehead, cheek or the hand. Never on the mouth.

Since he was rejected, Kylar hasn’t tried to kiss Lorne again. From watching movies, he gathers the notion that the more dominant partner should initiate the kissing. Since Lorne is older, taller and stronger, that makes him the more dominant one, in Kylar’s opinion. Kylar knows he is smaller and weaker, like a female, so he should wait for Lorne to do it. Perhaps that’s why he was rejected – he ought to have been passive instead of assertive. It seems that that’s how courtship works in this dimension. One must wait to be courted by the man of one’s dreams. Well, from now on Kylar will be passive. He is patient. He can wait. And hopefully, one wonderful day, Lorne will come to him and he will be kissed.

Kylar may be inexperienced in the rituals of romantic courtship but he knows what sex is. He regularly saw pigs mating back on Pylea. And once during his daily work routine, he stumbled across the farmer’s ugly daughter in a haystack on her knees, with her skirts up to her hips and some muscled warrior thrusting into her from behind and grunting loudly. He heard the vulgar slap of their flesh meeting – her large exposed breasts dangling and wobbling - and caught glimpses of slimy green flesh and coarse brown hairs where the two were joined at the nether regions. Kylar quickly scuttled past before the daughter spotted him and screamed at him to get lost or die. He did not wish to stay and watch, anyway. It was not erotic at all. It was rough, clumsy and animalistic. Honestly, to him they looked no different than the pigs. Thanks to those incidents, and some others, he may have a little knowledge of the act but the first time he sees an R-rated sex scene in a movie theatre it is a highly confronting experience for him. Especially since the images are so big and detailed and right in his face. He can’t escape them. He can’t walk away. Well, technically he could get up and leave the cinema but that would be disrespectful to Connor, who invited him here as a valued friend, and so for his sake Kylar stays, even though he’s subtly squirming in his seat.

The scene is not overly crude or explicit, rather shot artfully and erotically, and people on this world probably think it’s very tame but to Kylar it’s almost shocking to witness. Though he knows the actors are not really copulating he still flushes down to the roots of his dreadlocks, embarrassed yet unable to look away from all that pale, writhing flesh. Instead of being disgusted or turned off by the sight of naked humans, Kylar is horrified to feel his body responding against his will. Although, he can sense that he is not the only one getting aroused in the cinema so perhaps his empathic side is simply reacting to everyone else’s arousal. Perhaps this voyeurism is normal. Connor certainly doesn’t appear to be uncomfortable by the sex shown on the screen and Kylar harbours the suspicion that the other teenager may have even experienced it himself at one stage or the other. Kylar is interested to know what it was like for Connor – if it was nice or not - but is far too bashful to ask him about it. At least, not yet. The demon-boy does learn one interesting thing from the scene: that human bodies are not all that dissimilar to those of villagers back on his home world, except the heart seems to be oddly located in the middle of the chest instead of the left buttock, which is where it ought to be.

After the movies, Connor escorts him to game parlours, showing him how to play air hockey across a table, shoot targets on a computer screen with a plastic gun and fight each other with virtual characters controlled by buttons and ‘joysticks’, all of which are useful for quickening reflexes and immensely entertaining at the same time. Late at night when Lorne gets back from Caritas, Kylar animatedly fills him in about what he and Connor got up to, what interesting and exciting things Angel’s son has shown him that day. Lorne is almost jealous that Connor’s spending so much time with Kylar but he sees how happy the younger demon is to have a pal his own age and so that makes Lorne happy too. He knows he ought to spend more time with Kylar himself, taking the boy places and showing him things like fathers do with sons, but is loath to do so because the more time he spends with Kylar, the more Lorne is tempted by him. The kid’s sweet scent just about makes him crazy. Much as he dotes on the boy, it’s best if they keep their distance somewhat.

But Kylar doesn’t protest or show any signs of discontent at being left alone for prolonged periods. Although he enjoys company, he is not a clingy type and often can be found on his bed reading a book with his pet bat perched on his shoulder, or in the hotel courtyard picking flowers and communing with garden creatures, relishing the sunshine and being free to do whatever he wishes to. Lorne has often walked outside to have a smoke and caught Kylar sitting on the grass covered in butterflies, legs crossed and eyes closed peacefully as if meditating. However independent and occupied he is, Kylar always seems pleased to see Lorne, no matter how long or short their interactions are. Even if they just pass each other in the corridor, Kylar always takes the time to give his care-taker a shy, sweet smile, one Lorne immediately returns, often accompanied by a fond hair-ruffle or a wink. Lorne wouldn’t call it flirting, exactly, just him being his generally affectionate self.

Kylar soon settles into a routine. After breakfast and his daily reading and writing lessons (which he’s picking up remarkably quickly), he changes into his gym gear and trains in the lobby until the afternoon, perfecting his sensory skills with Connor, as well as training with the others. Wes teaches him how to handle stakes and crossbows along with some simple magic tricks that can be used in battle for one’s own advantage. Angel teaches him sword fighting and martial arts moves - punches, blocks, hits and kicks - while Gunn teaches him about blunt force using axes, clubs and metal pipes, everyone being careful not to injure the peaceful young demon but Kylar takes each accidental blow, scrape or cut and learns from it, remembering what not to do next time. He never complains about the gruelling physical effort required to wield heavy weapons or battle against men bigger and more practised than him, never asks to stop in tiredness or fatigue, and never cries out when he gets hurt, used to a lot more pain than most boys his age would be. Everyone working with him is struck by his dedicated attitude and willingness to better himself, the way he listens and takes on board everything they are teaching him. Kylar’s determination and grit earns the admiration of each person in the hotel.

Not least of all Lorne. The older Pylean sits back on the circular sofa with his drinks and watches Kylar grow stronger every day, more confident in his own abilities and what he is capable of. With the right encouragement and positive support he’s coming out of his olive-coloured shell, discovering who he can be without all the bullying, fear and struggling to stay alive. Coming to LA has given the boy a freedom he’s never known and will never take for granted again. Kylar lives each day to the fullest and pushes himself just as rigorously as he did back on the farm, except he actually wants to do this. The training coupled with the vitamin pills and plenty of good, wholesome food has seen Kylar’s skeletal frame fill out in less than six weeks, gaining lean muscle where once there was skin and bone. When he first came here he was all stick-thin arms, prominent ribs, shrunken stomach and gaunt, haunted face, looking like an emaciated refugee from a war camp. Not anymore. He is in a lot better shape now - athletic and healthy, the firm contours of his new body beginning to show underneath the clothes Cordelia and Fred bought him, the shirts and pants fitting properly rather than swamping him as they used to. Even his hair seems to be thicker and shinier, the soft ripples of mulberry gleaming with life and vitality, along with the rest of him. Kylar was pretty before but with glowing skin, newfound masculine strength and self-assurance in his eyes…he’s just breathtaking.

“Hey, Lorne-a-licious.” Cordelia plonks her fashionable female figure next to Lorne, stroking the sleeve of his peach-coloured shirt with intricate teardrop-shaped patterns all over it. “Loving the paisley. Very sixties chic.”

“Thanks, Cor.” Lorne smiles at her. “What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up.” Cordy flutters her lashes innocently. “Can’t I just sit here with my best and most stylish green friend in the whole world?”

“Not when you could be out shopping,” Lorne retorts, sensing a hidden agenda here. “What do you really want? And don’t try to fool an Empath, young lady.”

Shrugging, Cordelia gives up the pretence. “Okay. I actually wanted to speak to you about my vision.”

“What vision?”

“The one I’m having right now.”

Lorne sits up straighter in alarm. Even though they no longer cause her intense pain, Cordy’s psychic predictions still usually mean that something bad is going to happen.

The brunette puts her fingers on her temples, concentrating. “I can see you…and there’s Kylar. And oh! You’re kissing.”

Lorne jolts in shock. “You’re getting a vision of that?”

“Not really.” She drops her hands and smiles teasingly. “But I can definitely see you thinking about doing it.”

Her smile fades at the disappointed, guilty expression that appears on Lorne’s face, his eyes averting awkwardly.

“Except you haven’t yet, have you?”

Mumbling into his drink, Lorne replies, “No.”

“And why the hell not?”

Avoiding her confrontational stare, Lorne hisses, “I’m his guardian, Cordy! And do we have to talk about this here?”

He sneaks a glance in Kylar’s direction but the kid is too occupied clanging swords with Angel to notice that he’s being talked about, Kylar swinging a sword almost as tall as he is while the vampire instructs him in the finer points of chopping someone’s head off.

“He can’t hear us. And you’re not his father,” Cordy reminds Lorne. “It wouldn’t be wrong.”

“Even so…He’s just arrived here after surviving eighteen years of abuse and mistreatment in a nightmarish plane of existence nobody should ever have to live on. He’s still adjusting to this world, finding out who he is and what his purpose is here,” Lorne argues. “Me hitting on him? I don’t think the little cabbage is ready for that.”

“Oh, he’s more than ready.”

“Yeah?” Lorne lifts a challenging brow. “And how do you know, Miss Smarty Britches?”

“I went to high school, remember?” She looks smug. “I know how teenage boys act around someone they have a crush on.”

Kylar must have asked Angel how he killed the Drokken, the act that earned him fame back on Pylea, the black-clad nightwalker beaming with manly pride and embellishing his story with lavish sword slices and thrusts. Looking at the worshipful way Kylar is gazing at Angel, the boy’s ruby eyes big and impressed at the dramatic tale, Lorne feels a prickle of unpleasant envy.

“Are you sure it’s me he’s got a crush on?”

“It’s not Angel,” Cordelia persists. “He’s totally crushing on you, Lorne. Has been from the day he got here. He couldn’t make it any clearer if it was written on his t-shirt, which, by the way, he looks REALLY great in.” Her eyes all but glaze over as she fixates on Kylar’s shoulders and arms, flexing smoothly as he pushes sweat-dampened hair back from his face with both hands.

“Hello, muscles…” she muses abstractedly.

Lorne frowns at her, getting all possessive. Nobody should look at Kylar that way but him. Cordelia finally blinks, breaking the trance.

“Anyway, back to the kissing.” She gazes expectantly at Lorne. “When’s it gonna happen?”

“Probably never.” Lorne sighs in hopelessness. “I don’t even think I should try.”

“You should. You two are perfect for each other. Everyone in this hotel knows it.”

“But what if he doesn’t want it? What if he rejects me, Cor?”

“He won’t, I’m telling you. I mean, he choose a room just down the hall from yours. He wants to be close to you just as much as you do to him. ”

Cordelia means well and Lorne realises she’s trying to help, bless her big old heart, but she was popular in high school. She had boys chasing after her in droves, wanting to date her, wanting to be with her. She has no idea what it’s like to get rejected or how much it hurts.

Lorne knows. He was rejected from the moment he dropped out of his mother’s grossly distended belly and landed on his head. She nearly ate him. His family rejected him, his peers rejected him, his whole fucking dimension rejected him and cast him out.

However, he doesn’t care about that anymore. He’s glad to be out of that filthy hell-hole and he certainly doesn’t miss his oafish, simple-minded, ignorant family. He doesn’t care what they think of him.

He cares what Kylar thinks, though.

He cares too damn much.

Cordelia nudges him out of his pensive reverie. “What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t know…” The usually confident demon flounders nervously with the pressure Cordelia is putting him under. “I’m just not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Well, you better get sure, Lorne, because a yummy catch like that? Not gonna fall out of a portal every day.” She indicates to the pretty eighteen year old boy in the lobby. “If you don’t snaffle him, someone else will. And then you’ll kick yourself forever for missing the chance.”

Knowing that she’s right, Lorne’s shoulders slump. “Stop with the harping, ex-Divine One. I see your point and I’ll work on it, all right?”

“Soon?”

Sighing again, Lorne grudgingly agrees, “Okay. I’ll try soon. Happy now?”

“Deliriously. I want all the juicy details when it happens.” Cordy grins and pats his arm excitedly before getting up. “Good luck.”

“Lord, I’m gonna need more than luck,” Lorne despairs, gulping down the rest of his scotch on ice as she saunters away, leaving the normally unruffled Empath with frayed nerves and a bellyful of shifting stones.