Outside, the inky dusk came upon the world, casting heavy, nearly-dark shadows. Making the stars to blink on, one by one. Like flames from afar, casting a huddled silence. And the songbirds, those ‘feathered folk,' all nested, sight unseen, in the trees. The impertinent black-capped chickadees, and the cheeky, upside-down-hoppin' white-breasted nuthatches (‘ank, ank, ank!'), nabbin' sunflower seeds like they did. And the sooty, tuxedo-wearing dark-eyed juncos, who only stayed for the winter, loving the snow. Sometimes, if you were very still, you could coax them to eat millet from your paw.

They were all quiet, now. Inactive.

Nature burrowing in.

Nature drowsy, dozing off. For an unseasonably warm early-December night. And for an earlier sunset than the day before. And the day before that. The nights, suddenly, longer. The days shorter. The whole cocktail of time being stirred, stirred, suddenly dizzying your thoughts.

Indoors, bathed in overhead, incandescent light, Field bobbed his daughter, gently, in his arms. "Yay," he went, in his soft, airy voice. Speaking close to her. Speaking in a hush. "Yay for mouses. Yay for mouses."

Akira, holding onto him with her tiny paws, was all wide-eyed and listening. Her ears semi-wide, like half-dishes. Half swept-back, instead of rotating on the top of her head (like Field's). But, ultimately, more like mouse ears. Her winged arms came from her mother, of course. And her fur was a pretty, dusky mauve. Her ropy tail was furred, too, like her mother's. At first glance, the baby looked more like her father. But many of the details skewed to ‘bat-like.' And she had her mother's telepathic abilities, too.

"Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm," Field went, in a hum-hum fashion, putting his incessantly sniffy-twitching nose to baby Akira's. Her nose following suit. Mimicking, seemingly, the busy whisker-waggling motions. "Nose-nuzzle!" Field squeaked playfully, bobbing her some more. Holding her protectively, warmly. Like he always did. "Nose-nuzzle!"

Their noses rubbed and touched some more.

Sniffing each other.

Akira letting loose, finally, bright baby-chitters. Clutching at him with her little paws. And wrapping her little, telepathic feelers, her emotional feelers, around his mind. In a close-knit, ‘mental hug.'

Which made Field giggle with happy joy. He loved that presence (of her). And the feeling of all that love. That bubbly, buoyant feeling.

They were in the little, white church, in town. For a congregational supper. A ‘shindig,' as Field called them.

The mouse was sitting in one of the old, wooden pews. Up at the front. While everyone else was in the kitchen or in the ‘study' space, setting up stables and chairs, ferrying things back and forth. There was the sound of chatter. And the sound of Christmas hymns playing on a CD player ...

"Angels we have heard on high
sweetly singing o'er the plains.
And the mountains in reply,
echoing their joyous strains.

"Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!"

Akira began waving her winged arms, making squeak-sounds, as if singing along. Moving, slightly, to the music. Not knowing, yet, what it meant. Not old enough to understand the birth of salvation. But her parents would teach her. Would help her to know. Field liked to read to her, nightly, before putting her to bed. Reading from a children's Bible. And just letting her hear the sound of his voice. And letting her hear the words.

Akira would always listen. Sometimes, quietly. Sometimes, she would squirm, wanting out of her crib.

And, now, she listened to the music. And wore a smile, which made her fangs to show. She did have fangs, yes, like her mother.

Field was still holding onto her. Letting her wave. And letting her, now, to stand on his lap. She needed his support to stand, but she liked to think that she was doing it herself. Field's bigger paws on her hips, she waved her winged arms. Wave-wave-wave. As if flying. (Though she wasn't able to fly yet, and wouldn't be able to until she reached puberty; but, flying, with bats, was a spiritual affair. It wasn't done casually. Field knew how excited Adelaide was at the prospect of being able to teach their daughter how to fly.)

"Mm ... you flyin', hmm? Hmm?"

Tiny chitters.

"You are? You think you're flyin'? Where ya flyin' to? Gonna fly to mommy?"

Akira's lavender eyes, a mixture of her mother's pinks and her father's blue-greys, darted. Darted a bit. As if searching. And then met her father's.

"Where's mommy?" he asked again, in his gentle whisper. His paws still holding to her. Still holding her up while she stood on his lap. "Mm?"

The mouse-bat brought her paw to her mouth. And put her fingers into her mouth, looking around. As if still trying to ascertain. Not thinking to use her ‘feelers' to do the job.

"You made mommy cranky last night."

The mouse-bat, sucking on her fingers, looked back to Field. And made a gurgle-sound, as if denying it.

"You did. You were cryin' and bawlin' ... when mommy and daddy were busy," he confided, smiling. He and Adelaide had been, at the time, ‘intimately busy.' Quite a ways into it, too. "You gave mommy a headache."

The baby still sucked on her furry paw. Making more squeak-sounds.

"You did. Mm-hmm ... actin' all like a princess, now, but you were puttin' on a tantrum last night ... "

Her lavender eyes met, again, her father's blue-greys. And she smiled.

Field giggled, shaking his head, remembering how ...



... the bedroom was dark. Except for the nightlight plugged into the wall (which Field needed, else he couldn't sleep), and the pale, crescent moon that was rising above the tranquil creek and the bare, reaching trees of the Hoosier countryside.

The bat and mouse as bare as those trees. Indeed, more bare, even. Stripped to their fur, writhing, gyrating together on top of their bed, in such heated, tangible ways. The navy-blue sheets absorbing their warmth, and being strewn about with their wild, grasping motions. Instincts released.

Adelaide on her back.

Field on top.

Doing what young, wedded furs did. Sharing some bliss.

About two minutes after the bat's fangs had gone into the mouse's neck, cementing, furthering their union, feelings, sensations, memories swelling, everything welling into a great, pleasured, sparking ...

... " ... w-what's," the mouse panted, "that ... " His ears were gorged with blood, erogenous, pounding, sensitive. The capillaries visible. He heard a sound from the other room.

Adelaide's response was muffled. Was slurred. Being that she hadn't full use of her muzzle right now (with her fangs being stuck in neck-muscle). But, being joined, she simply put the words directly into the mouse's head. Thought-telling him, ‘It's the baby. She's hungry. She probably needs changed, too.'

"Oh," Field went, aloud. Either in response to his wife's thoughts, or in response to her body, it was hard to tell. Though the airy squeaks that followed indicated it was probably the latter.

And it was, indeed, Akira. Screaming. Not just whimpering or squeaking, but truly belting out. In one of those blood-pressure rising ways that robs sleep and sanity (and the like) from all parents.

‘Dammit,' Adelaide cursed. ‘I'm gonna have to pull out.'

"C-can't she ... um ... uh, wait?" the mouse managed.

‘She's in my head,' the bat thought to him, fangs still in deep. Making his neck-fur damp with leaked fluid. With the white ‘mating milk' that was dripping, steadily, from her fangs. Meant to be circulated into the blood. Linking, on every level, her to him. ‘She's ... ' The bat's thoughts fell aside with a few slow, wet and pressing hip-thrusts by Field. "Ah, ah," was the sound her muzzle made, her hot breath going right into the mouse's neck-fur. She breathed heavily, now. Continuing, mentally, ‘She's transferring her hunger and discomfort into me ... Field ... I gotta ... it's too distracting. I can't fully enjoy this ... if she's chiseling away at me like that. She's not gonna let up ‘til I go to her ... '

The mouse nodded weakly, sucking on her cheek. His lips sliding across hers. Saliva stringing between the both of them. And her matted, pink belly-fur meshing with his honey-tan fur. His eyes half-open. Hazy. His tail hanging above them like a rope, a silky-pink fishing line. "J-just," he pleaded, "f-five ... more minutes ... then ... " It felt too good. It was going too smoothly. He hadn't the willpower to want to part from this. From her.

But Akira was still bawling. And still worming into her mother's head.

And, then, sensing that there was a delay in the parental response, she got into Field's head, too.

"Whoa," the mouse breathed. Blinking, feeling his stomach get a bit sour.

‘See what I mean?' Adelaide thought to him.

Field squeaked weakly, the pleasure suddenly fighting for priority with a gnawing, squirming discomfort. All those swirling feelings. "She ... how's she ... can she do that? That should be against the rules," he breathed.

Adelaide would've laughed at that last statement, had her maternal duty not been so blatantly LOUD. ‘I gotta pull out,' she thought-said again. ‘Oh ... this is gonna hurt,' was her weak acknowledgment. For her, she meant. Field wouldn't feel the ‘hangover' effect that she would feel by withdrawing her fangs before climax. But the pink-furred bat, still beneath her husband, her belly to his, breasts beneath his trim, honey-tan chest, she pulled her fangs out. Slowly. Until they were free. Leaving no mark, no blood, no pain. Not when done properly. And, oh, she was a skilled biter. And she licked her fangs obsessively, as she was prone to do upon withdrawal. "Uh," she panted. "Oh." She breathed, breathed. "Field ... Field, come on ... " Her winged arms were wrapped around his back. Paws on his lower back, near his rump-cheeks. Fingers and blunted claws digging in. His body was so warm. So energetic. So horribly cute. She gripped him near his tail-base. "Field," she whispered, the headache coming on. It began as a dull ache, a vague throb. And then started to grow. "Come on, pull out ... "

The mouse, squeaking erratically, did so. Being that her fangs weren't the only penetrating body part here. He pulled himself back, with the same slowness reflected in her own withdrawal. One of searing sensitivity. Of reluctant cessation.

One of interrupted closeness, warmth, and pleasure.

And the mouse, out, rolled aside, panting, wet with shared fluid. With sweat. Totally smelling of bat (as she smelled of mouse). He went to his back. Sighing heavily, staring at the dim, shadow-bold ceiling. "Oh ... " A whimper. Still painfully needing release. Needing continuation.

Adelaide remained on her back for a moment, beside him. "The little ... sneak," she breathed, sounding very moody, now. Very unhappy. "The little sneak ... "

Field, trying to stay positive, defended their baby, saying, "Darling, it's not ... it's not like she knows what ... "

"Oh, she knows what she's doing, alright, and what WE'RE doing," Adelaide insisted, sitting up. Wincing. "Oh, she knows ... what we're doing," she repeated. "Now, she may not UNDERSTAND it, or why we like doing it, or why we don't wanna stop, but she ... " A wince. A weak, pained shake of the head. "Just don't go anywhere," she whispered to Field, desperately. "I need you. Don't ... just ... "

"Hey," Field whispered, with tender devotion. Tender love. "Hey, I'll be waiting with baited breath, okay?" He, sitting up with her, leaned forward. His muzzle on her cheek. As he whispered to her. "I love you, okay?"

"I know." Her eyes watered. Head aching, aching. "I just ... sorry about this. My ... damn physiology." She smoothed at her fur, absently. It worried her, sometimes. This hadn't been the first time this had happened. That they'd been ‘joined,' and she'd had to pull out. And she was a bat. She couldn't JUST pull out. It messed her up, and then, sooner or later, the feelings spread to Field, through their telepathic link, and it was just a mess. It turned very pleasant evenings into chores, sometimes. Sometimes. Other times (MOST of the times), it was a firework of a thing, so good, so sumptuous. Oh, it was worth it.

But, all the same, the bat felt she should apologize.

But Field wouldn't hear it. "I'd say God knew what he was doing," the mouse whispered, arms going around her, "when He made bats like He did. I'd say it's worth it."

"As long as we don't get interrupted."

"Well ... "

"You're not the one with the ‘hangover' ... "

"I know," he said weakly. "I ... it's okay," he said, trying to assure her. "I don't think you're a bother. It's not inconvenient, you know ... it's ... "

"I know ... " A sigh.

"I love you, and all your batty quirks," he said, nibbling on her neck. On her soft, pink-furred, femme-scented shoulder. "You've accepted my mousey ones," he told her. "I was a curled-up, quaking creature. You made me to flower. You and your boldness, and your sense of play."

Her eyes closed. She leaned her head against his.

"I love you," he continued.

"I love you, too," she whispered back. Reaching for one of his paws. Squeezing it. A heavy sigh.

And Akira still bawling, loudly, in the background. From the other room. From her crib.

Another sigh. Adelaide holding her head, shaking it slowly, eyes closed. "Alright," she whispered, opening her eyes. Slowly sliding out of bed. "I'll be back in ... ten minutes, or ... whenever."

"You need help? Can I help?"

"I can walk to the other room, Field."

"Well, I feel I should do something ... I wanna be useful, or ... it's not fair that you should have to go, and ... "

"Field ... " Adelaide, bare, carnation-pink fur matted, paused in the bedroom doorway. Looking back at the mouse, who was sitting up in the middle of their bed, his whiskers incessantly twitching, and his ears swiveling at the sound of their crying daughter. And his tail side-winding through the sheets. Oh, the cuteness. The cuteness! "Field," she repeated, "unless you start lactating, I ... I suggest you sit here, and let me handle it. And I can change her, too, so ... just ... look," she said, "just stay here, relax, regain your energy, cause I promise you, when I'm done with her, and I come back, I don't care HOW tired I am, we're gonna make enough love to cure a hundred headaches. We're gonna be hip-deep in each other ... "

The mouse's eyes were dilated. He nodded wordlessly. Then whispered, "Okay."

A weak smile, flashing her still-dripping fangs, and then wincing hard. "Ow," was her pitiful sound, as she made her way for the baby.

Field twitching, still felt guilty. Wishing there was something he could do. This was a problem, though, that came with interspecies mate-ships. Your bodies often had different quirks. Sometimes, it interrupted the smooth flow of everyday ‘interactions.' But only sometimes. Not enough to drive a wedge between each other.

And he reached out to his wife with his mind. Not having the telepathy she had, but knowing she would feel him, and that she would reach back with her feelers. And keep them close. Keep them wanting each other. No matter the distance of rooms. And no matter headaches.



"Yeah, you gave mommy a headache," Field repeated quietly, in the present. In the pew at the church. "Mm-hmm. Yeah, don't gimme that look."

Akira was smiling slightly, flapping her winged arms. And grabbing at Field's whiskers.

He raised his head a bit, squinting. Smiling. "You ARE a little sneak, aren't you?"

More whisker-grabs. Until she got one. Until she got two.

And Field lowered his head. And met his daughter's eyes. "Are you a sneak?"

Chittery!

A giggle-squeak from him. "No? No? What are you, then? Are you my baby girl? Are you my lovely, little girl? Mm?"

She toyed, gently, with his whiskers. Giving a few harmless tugs. Making little squeaky sounds as she did so. Her eyes roving a bit, darting, looking at her father's muzzle. At his fur. Knowing that it was a different color than hers. She patted the side of his muzzle a bit. Pat-pat-pat.

Field smiled. "What are you doin'?"

Pat-pat. And then more whisker-grabs.

"You really like those whiskers, don't you? You got whiskers." He brushed Akira's whiskers with his fingers. "You got whiskers, too."

Her eyes lit up. Her whiskers doing their sensory jobs. Feeling the touch, and feeling the air. Feeling the vibrations of all the chattering voices in the small church.

"What're you're whiskers feelin', huh? Mm?" Field put his nose against his daughter's soft, soft cheek. And breathed slowly in. And closed his eyes. He had her scent memorized. Imprinted in his mind. She smelled, surely, of love. Of purity. Of life. Always, he had known that the greatest thing an individual could create was not a painting, not a movie, or a book. Not music. Not art. But life. A life. To create another life was the greatest act of creation.

And he had done it. He and Adelaide, they'd done it.

Through love, passion. Desire. Through feelings both explainable and not (but mostly not). For he would look into his daughter's eyes, and hold her in his arms, and he wouldn't be able to describe the emotions welling there. In that moment. He only knew that it humbled him. Awed him. And, no, it wasn't easy. And, maybe, if they had been more watchful, Adelaide wouldn't have gotten pregnant when she did. Maybe they could've had a few more years of just them. Of not having to worry about this, or that, or what-have-you.

But that was all moot.

For these were their waltzing days. Their days of young, vibrant life. Their days of family and forging ahead, together. All together. Their days of making a future.

Their days of hope.

Days of music.

And salvation.

"Come to Bethlehem and see
Christ, whose birth the angels sing;
come, adore on bended knee,
Christ the Lord, the newborn King."

"Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!"

The chorus, especially, thrilled Akira. With how the ‘gloria' was stretched, and how the sound of it hung in the air, as if the word itself were as never-ending as the holy glory which it professed.

Field, smiling, scooped her up. Held her all snug in his arms, rocking her. And saying, once more, "Yay for mouses! Yay for ... "

" ... mouses!" Adelaide finished, settling beside them in the pew (which, old as it was, creaked a bit whenever someone sat down). "Mm ... well, I'm not gonna argue that mouses should get a ‘yay,' but what about bats, huh?"

Field, smiling, his ears feeling a bit warmer than before (she had a way of making the blood to rush to his ears). "Well ... yay for bats?"

"Yeah? What about bats?"

"Yay for bats!" Field declared, locking eyes with her.

Their gazes met, swirling, sinking. And Adelaide planted a few things (images, thoughts) into his head. And whispered, "I should hope so." And she looked down to their daughter. "Don't let daddy tell you otherwise, Akira. You're a bat-mouse."

"Mouse-bat," Field playfully countered.

"Bat-mouse."

"Mouse-bat."

"Bat-mouse."

"Akira," Field said, in his airy, wispy voice. "You wanna be called a mouse-bat, or a bat-mouse, mm? Mm? Blink if you wanna be a mouse-bat ... "

Adelaide giggled, giving Field a harmless shove. "She's gonna blink, anyway! That's rigged. You're rigging it ... "

"What?" A whisker-twitching, nose-sniffing, ear-swiveling grin.

A giggle-chitter. "Ooh, I could just eat you up," the pink-furred bat confided. "Mm." She put her nose on Field's neck. And closed her eyes. And breathed. And whispered, "But that'll have to wait."

"Well, we ARE in church. I would think so," Field whispered, ears flushed.

"Mm-hmm." The bat's eyes sparkled. "Can I hold her?" she said, nodding downward, to Akira.

"Course. You don't have to ask me for permission," Field said quietly.

"Well, you're the one holding her. I didn't just wanna snatch her out of your arms. She's your daughter, too."

A smile, his dimples showing on his furry, honey-tan cheeks. His whiskers twitching a bit. And he told the baby, "Time for a change of scenery, Akira. Fly into mommy's arms. Fly to mommy." He transferred the baby to his wife. "There we go," he whispered, sighing gently, eyes looking to them both. The two greatest femmes in the world. His wife and daughter.

He loved them so much.

Adelaide gently held the baby close. Breathing. Closing for eyes for a moment, and then opening them. Saying, "They're almost ready with the food. And Ketchy wants us to sit with her and Denali."

Field nodded. "That's fine."

"And Ketchy wants to see you, Akira. Yes-huh. Mm-hmm. Everyone wants a piece of you!"

Akira gurgled, making a chitter-noise.

"Yes, you are precious, aren't you? Aren't you?"

Field giggle-squeaked knowingly. "She wasn't precious last night. You didn't call her precious last night."

"Well ... I forgive her." The bat smiled widely, warmly. "She just has this way about her, you know? You can't stay irritated with her."

Field nodded. "Yeah," he whispered, smiling. "I know what you mean ... "

Adelaide sighed, and then slowly stood, still holding to Akira. "Time for supper," she said.

Field stood, too, sniffing the air. "Mm," he went. He wasn't sure about all the dishes they were having, but he liked the aromas enough.

And, as they walked to join the rest of the furs, Adelaide, bobbing Akira in her arms, went, "Yay for mouses and bats! Yay for mouses and bats!"

Akira went all ‘chittery, chittery.'

And Field squeaked along.

Yay, indeed.