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Cacen mêl

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Steele sat in his living room. He was happily reading a book he had recently picked up. 'Understanding you child's interest in music.' It would probably help him with the tall gangly thing that had joined the brigade in the last week. Steele took a sip of his tea as he leaned into the chair. According to these pages, his first step for the leather jacket wearing teen was to 'take the posters out of their room and tell them about the dangers of getting stoned,' Steele laughed at that.


“Did the same things as kids, in a different kind of leather.” He flipped a page. 'Take them to the hairdresser and get their hair cut,' absurdly harsh. “He has a pomp for gods sake.”


Steele kept reading the pages and decided that this was better entertainment than it was helpful. Now he'd have to pick up a new album and really see if the music was all about smashing cars and telling people to stick it to the man, might be a good record. He definitely refused to follow the boys every movement.


He took another sip and noticed his cup was empty. He put the book page down on the table. He sat up and stretched a bit. He started towards the kitchen when there was a knock at his door. He placed the cup on a table and made his way to the door.


He opened the door and saw quite the sight.


The tall gangly one had a mixed expression on his face, a forced smile that barely held over a look of pain, his hair was a mess and in his hands he held a metal cake pan, the cake inside still steaming slightly. Behind him the fancy ginger looked panicked beyond belief, but with his hands firmly on the gangly one's shoulders trying to give a form of comfort.

“Sir, can we-”


“Cacen mêl?” The gangly one cut over the ginger, his voice out of juice was the distinct sound of tension and pain lingering in his words.


Steele looked at the honey cake, and then noticed the gangly one without any form of hand protection on the cast iron pan. “Come in.” He stepped out of the way and the ginger lead in the gangly one quickly. “Sam what happened.”


“Well, I was just about to leave for the night, when Elvis yelled from the kitchen, he won't put the cake down.” Sam said from behind Elvis, Steele nodded. He looked over the situation and an idea hit his head.


“We can't eat it when it's still hot. Lets put it in the ice box, how bout that?” Steele called, he took Elvis by the shoulders and away from Sam, pushing the boy into his kitchen.


Steele opened the fridge for Elvis.


“Your right, it has to soak into it's self.” Elvis stuttered out, he put the cake in the fridge. He awkwardly pulled his hands off the metal and dropped the cake on the shelf. Steele puffed out a deep breath.


“Oh, it looks like you got a burn there, let me see those mit's. Can't have one of my men with a little ol' burn.” Steele said, he scooped up Elvis' hands as the boy started to quietly whimper. He walked Elvis too the sink and turned on the cold water. Steele looked at Elvis' hands, he deemed only the boys palms where seriously burned, he was still worried but gently put the stop in the sink. As the sink filled Steele gently started to rub the backs of Elvis' hands with his thumbs. He looked up and saw Sam in the doorway. “Samuel, Could you get the first aid kit from the bathroom, I think Elvis here could use a little bandage after he has a good soak.” Steele looked back and saw the sink getting full. He lead Elvis' hands to the water but let the boy put them in of his own accord. He whimpered.


Steele put a hand on his back. “It's okay, Elvis. It's going to make it feel better.”


Sam rushed back in with the first aid box. Steele took it from him and started to sort through it. He pulled out gauze and bandaging. He looked over at Elvis, who was starting to shake slightly. Steele took a deep breath and turned to the boy. He had to chase shock away until he could get the boy laying down on his couch.


“So, a family recipe or was it from a book?” Steele asked, leaning on the counter, trying to look calm.


“Me mum's favourite, I think she got it of the radio when I was a little one.” Elvis struggled out, Steele nodded.


“Did she listen to the radio a lot?” Steele asked.


“Yeah man. Why do you ask?” Elvis called.


“That would explain a lot, Elvis.” Steele chimed, Elvis took a second to process what Steele said. When he drew a connection he started to giggle lightly.


“You'll find, the name came later.” Elvis said, he looked over at the window in the small kitchen, he let out a few stressed coughs that nearly resembled a laugh.


“Well then, you have as good of taste as anyone of my own blasted generation.” Steele called.


Elvis laughed a little. “Oh, just wait until my cousin Jerry Lee comes across your graduates list next cycle.”


“Oh so you picked within a family parameter?” Steele teased.


“Of course not, I was having a phase, and it stuck. I thought it made me sound cool. I still do.” Elvis lit up a bit.


“That's all that matters.” Steele said, he leaned over to the sink and gently pulled Elvis' hands from the water. He pulled out a cloth and started to gently pat the boys hands dry. “Now all we need is a bit of triple antibiotic and gauze to keep that skin safe.”


Steele fished in the kit and pulled out a tube. He pulled one of Elvis' hands closer and started to apply ointment. Elvis' hand flinched a bit but Steele eventually put down the tube and pulled out the gauze, wrapping the boys hand gently. After securing the gauze he covered it is a soft cloth bandage. When he finished he repeated his steps on the other hand.


“There, good as new.” Steele gently let go of Elvis' hand and started to pack away the first aid kit. “Sam, why don't you take Elvis into the living room? I'll be right out.”


Sam awkwardly took Elvis to the living room. Steele let out a deep breath and tried to remind himself that he was doing a good job and that he needed to find something to calm them down along with himself. He turned to the counter and turned on the kettle, he pulled out some decaf sleeping tea. It would calm down all of them. He looked at the fridge, he opened it and pulled out the now cooled pan, he went for plates and cups.








Sam sat Elvis on the couch, Sam sat opposite of Elvis.


Sam read the cover of the book on the table. “Must have a rowdy grand kid.” Sam called.


Elvis looked over. “Sounds like my kind of kid.” Elvis chuckled, Sam smiled a bit.


“It's probably just one of those dime store fear books telling you to cleanse your family.” Sam said.


“Well let's see.” Elvis picked up the book awkwardly and put it on his lap. “Oh wow, look at this nonsense.”


Sam scooted over next to Elvis and looked at the page. He chuckled nervously. “Yeah it's quite silly.”


Elvis tried to flip a page and failed. Sam flipped it for him. “Look at this, re-dye your kids hair. You'll kill their hair before you teach them to stop.” Elvis said with a smile.


“Personal experience?” Sam asked.


“My granny didn't like my pink and blue streaks, made me chop all of my hair off, jokes on her.” Elvis giggled, Sam laughed.


“Wish I had that idea younger than move out age.” Sam said coyly.


Elvis smiled at him. “Well I think your hair suits you just right now.” Elvis said sweetly. He looked down. “Look at this, take you kid to a therapist, for liking rock music, what a joke.”


“Yeah, really is the first step going to extremisms?” Sam echoed.


Steele stepped into the room with a tea tray. He looked at the book in Elvis' hands. Sirens went of in his mind. He walked up.


“I see you boys enjoy bad literature as well.” Steele said, his teeth gritted as he put the tray down on the coffee table. Elvis and Sam looked over.


“So you have a rowdy little scamp in the family then!” Elvis chimed, Sam nudged him. Elvis ignored the push and kept smiling.


“Well, uh, no, I don't have any, kids.” Steele said awkwardly, he sat down in his chair, looking at the table quietly.


“I can see how it's an entertaining read.” Elvis said, he pushed the book back on the coffee table and looked at the tea tray. “Cacen mêl fy!”


“I thought it would be ready to eat now.” Steele said, he took the tea pot and poured himself a cup. “Would you boys like anything?” He asked, glancing up at them.


“Yes please, sir.” Sam said calmly, Elvis nodded as he looked at the three neat pieces of cake, adoring the tray.


Steele poured two more cups.


He passed a cup to Sam, and set the other down in front of Elvis. Steele leaned back with his tea.


“So no kids then, at your age I'd think you'd be settled for two generations by now.” Elvis said blankly as he picked up the cup shakily for a drink. Steele choked on his tea.


“Elvis, hush.” Sam called.


“No no, it's a quiet alright question.” Steele called, he sat up a bit and put down his cup. “I was thinking about family when I was a younger man, however my boyfriend, you might know him as fire deputy Boyce, decided that that wasn't the life for him and skipped out to Newtown.”


Both Elvis and Sam started to choke on there tea.


“But by the time I got over his gross over reaction to the prospect of moving forewords, I figured I was better off without people like that in my life.” Steele picked up a piece of cake. “And any ways, I like to read in quiet.”


Sam and Elvis where quiet as Steele started to dig into his cake. “Just the right amount of honey too, good job Elvis.”


“You and Fire Deputy Boyce dated!?” Elvis finally stammered out.


“Oh yes, five whole years before he ran off.” Steele took another bite. “Idiot still hasn't come and gotten the rest of his stuff.”


“He couldn't have left all that much.” Sam laughed, he picked up a piece of cake and started to eat.


“He left his uniform, a few shirts, a box or two, oh yeah and his wallet.” Steele said, he took another bite. “I told him I wouldn't be hostile if he came back for his stuff but he just blew it off.”


“Good on you for being the better man,” Elvis called, he picked up the last piece of cake and took a bite.


“It wasn't hard to be.” Steele said, smirking. Sam and Elvis laughed, Steele joined them.








Steele looked at Elvis in the office chair, looking a little upset but already getting to the paperwork in front of him. Steele turned to Sam.


“You remember last night, right.” Steele asked.


“Yeah?” Sam said quietly.


“Well, see Sam, Elvis doesn't, pain had him off his rocker. Maybe keep it down away from him.” Steele said quietly.


“W-what do you mean sir?” Sam stumbled.


“You know what I mean, you know about me and, well, and just everything that we talked about. The boy needed to hear some nice things for his ears but I don't want anything getting out.” Steele said.


“Y-you weren't just lieing for him?” Sam said, shocked.


“I don't lie to my men.” Steele walked away to the garage. “Now, would you help me get Jupiter cleaned up, she's a bit dirty from that last field fire.”


“Yes sir.” Sam followed Steele quickly.