When Wings Break

Falafel and Honest Words(I)

"For a soon-to-be-happy man, you look worse than I feel," Arif said as he threw a heavy arm over Saleh's shoulder Monday afternoon.

"Professor Jones does that to you," he yawned, feeling more exhausted than he let on. The restaurant was alive with cutlery on porcelain, spices, and aromas mixing in his nostrils to churn his stomach with hunger. After too much theory on hydrogen propulsion without actually getting to do something with it, he hadn't thought he'd be hungry for actual food. "You finally get bitten by the bug?"

Arif laughed, showing off his father's smile. "No. Absolutely not. I'm taking a look at some specs for redecorating. Yeah," he grinned, "the old man finally approved something needs a change."

A looming figure appeared behind them. Heavy hands fell on their shoulders and they both tensed. "I heard that. Make yourselves both useful and grab a seat, eh?"

It was no question. Saleh shot Arif a glance easily understood; get moving or find them elbow-deep in the sink. Saleh shot off ahead of Arif. "You! Wait for me!"

Denise was at the counter where Saleh grabbed the first barstool. When silence greeted his entry, he felt his brows shoot upward. That was until Arif grabbed the other stool, "Good morning, Denise. How can I wow you today?"

He almost cautioned Arif against the tone. Denise finally lifted her head from the computer. Here it comes. She smiled, "Me? Here I thought I'd take care of you today?"

Saleh frowned. Arif laughed. "I'd love that too. You know us Arab men. We do enjoy being taken care of by beautiful women."

He caught her rolling her eyes, but her smile remained toothy and calling. "Hm. I can do that."

A towel landed on the back of Arif's head. "You disgrace. How dare you speak so brazenly to a respectable lady?" another whack fell on his head, completing the picture in Saleh's head minus a few quirky turns.

"Ah. Ah, Baba! I was giving respect," Arif's wings tightened closer as he clutched at his head. "Is that not what a good man does? Didn't you do the same as well to Mama, or were you wrong in doing it in the first place?"

Saleh had to scoff at that one, reaching for a toothpick to work his hands on. The container was gently nudged away, the culprit turning her head away, chin lifted upward.

Baba Arif's lips pressed together, edges tugging upward or downward repeatedly. He had his arms crossed, his feet standing wide apart, and the vein at his neck had become noticeable. Saleh knew when anyone close to Arif couldn't decide if they wanted to throttle him or laugh.

Baba Arif sighed, releasing his crossed arms. Arif kept his arms firmly over his head, cheeky grin peeking through. "I bore a hellion. Hm." He ruffled the hair he could find and walked off, grumbling to himself.

"You won that one," Saleh told him.

Arif grinned. "I win every round. How about a victory cake, delightful?"

Saleh watched as, once again, Denise shrugged, smile coy, and lifted the display cabinet and, using tongs, pulled out the biggest falafel cut she could find. Saleh recognized that stash as the one she kept for people she liked. When Saleh only stared down onto the counter, dumbfounded, she harrumphed. She reached back in and picked the not-so-nice-edged ones and gave that to Saleh.

He understood. The granddaughter of the Duke of Pride was upset with him. "Thank you, Denise. It's more than I deserve."

The towel whacked his face three seconds after he took a bite. As always, Baba Arif's Falafel was beyond a doubt the best thing he'd ever tasted. His first ever job pay, he'd come right here and spent it all on falafel. The sauce had been on the house. The cushioning from Mama Jaiyana's wrath entirely on Mama Arif's shoulders.

He was sad to see the falafel touched by the cloth but he knew it had worked. Denise stormed into the backroom, grumbled under her breath about self-absorbed boys with no sense of conduct or humility.

"What did you do?" Arif asked. Half of a falafel was still in hand, way too far from his mouth.

It was remarkably odd all he could think of was how the difference between Baba Arif and Mama Arif's falafel was the slightest spice change, and yet there went his friend, upset with him for being a 'self-absorbed boy with no sense of conduct or humility'. Saleh scoffed, and before he knew it, it turned into a snicker.

"She'll... she'll come back."

When she did, Saleh had the chocolate kisses on the table. Seven for seven deadly sins, because a good girl knows how to hide the bad. "Hm. I will not forgive you even if you beg," she said. Saleh shrugged, leaving the chocolate there.

"How pitiful. Relying on such a breed for impish desire." Saleh rolled his eyes. Arif jerked, not expecting the arrival. He glanced over and found Denise's cousin, Raphael, had taken over the next seat. The server that brought their meal visibly quaked. "I do believe I've been," he sighed, "summoned."

"Raphy." Denise was curt. She snatched the kisses off the table quickly. "A pity those gargoyles never met their mark."

Raphael met her gaze back. He turned to Saleh, the same golden eyes touched with some amusement. "I heard you upset Denise. Care to recount the tale?"

Saleh opened his mouth. "If you so much as love me, you will not, I repeat, not, so much as speak a word to him." Saleh closed his mouth. "I still haven't forgiven you, but thank you, Casanova."

Casanova. He'd been an i***t. He picked up the spoon and began to dig in. Each bite of Baba Arif's food always reminded him of Iraq, be it the falafel of Babu Mustafa's sweet shop, or the chicken his grandmother adored overfeeding them with. He could never forget that last meal either; lamb stuffed with rice and so much lemon Saleh had forgotten to eat and decided the lemon tasted just as good.

A new taste came to mouth as Denise and Raphael shot barbs at each other. S'mores roasted on an open fire pit, laughter and tales shared by wary strangers scared of trust, shared by the man open in his love. Saleh had been an i***t.

The food went down thicker than before. Saleh felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He turned and found Arif watching him. "Tiredness is not always about sleep."

How could Saleh tell him? How could he reveal such a big story? He shook his head, turning away. "Just need sleep."

Arif didn't let go. "I remember you doing that when you first came," he said. "You didn't like it here. I liked that you were here. Finally," he crossed his arms on the table and looked off in distant memory, a smile playing on his lips. "I wasn't going to be the only one with wings like these."

To demonstrate, he stretched out one wing. It was stark and blunt how similar their wings were. Coloration, pattern, and the palate matched; there had been people who assumed they were brothers. It came from the sisters in one of each of their parent's lineage.

"I remember. You couldn't stop talking," Saleh laughed, picking up a chicken piece.

Arif bumped him on the shoulder. "And you never stop listening," he grinned. "Even when I told you about Suleiman and his bullying." The tall prodigal who crammed the full Qur'an and could recite it at a moment's notice.

Saleh smiled. "Did he ever understand what was in his head?"

Arif didn't laugh as Saleh had expected. When Saleh turned to him, he looked uncomfortable. He caught Saleh's gaze before turning back to his plate. "I never told you this part." He stopped, spoon poised above his food but not reaching in. That was odd for Arif. "I, uh," he cleared his throat again. "I kissed him. On the cheek."

"Because on the cheek makes it better?" Saleh couldn't help the rise of his voice as the news hit him.

"Sh," Arif grabbed his arm and physically pulled him down. He looked around, searching for listeners. Babu Yusuf had gone back to the kitchen and the Arabic speakers in the restaurant were too far away. Not to mention, they were Norm. "Blast it, man. Do you want to out me to the whole neighborhood?" Brows arched, Arif's cheeks were perfectly rosy. "Come one, come all. Hear of Arif's crush, yes?"

"Argh, you big i***t," Saleh grabbed his arms and pulled with more force than necessary. "You come whining to me all about being bullied, being threatened, being beaten up by that toad head--"

"I was never beaten--"

"So what? All along you're thinking of having his c**k shoved up your ass?" he gave Arif his best impertinent look. Arif had the decency to look away. "What were you thinking? That's a thing. Falling for abusers and abductors--."

"I know what it is," Arif snapped, silencing Saleh. His voice rose too high and they both looked around. Heads had turned their way but now they looked away. "I spent enough nights wondering what was wrong with me. Okay? Happy? I tortured myself with it."

Saleh met Arif's gaze. Arif met Saleh's gaze. He was sure Arif had done it. Big and round, Arif flew when he needed to and read and worked with his hands more than his mother preferred. In the end, he was a mechanical student and Saleh, the speeder, was studying to be a professor. They were ever at odd roads.

"What's he asking for?" Saleh asked, picking up his spoon again. Their only luck was that Denise had been occupied by an influx of attendees. "Money? Favors? I swear, if he is--"