This one is continuing on in my Biker Boy oneshots, and is the sequel to "Homecoming"; you may want to read that one first before you read this one.

I own Yu-Gi-Oh and its characters; I appealed in a court of law and had license rights turned over to me!

...I wish.

I also don't own Linkin Park or Breaking Benjamin (or the idea for using it for a certain someone's music taste; that honor belongs to LuckyLadybug). I do, however, own the motorcylist's last names. You must ask or at least acknowledge my part in creating them if you use them.

As always, this is non-yaoi and leave me reviews on your way out!

Autumn had come to Domino at last.

The city was buzzing about in hectic activity in their last-minute preparations for Thanksgiving, which would happen the following day. The civilians hurried about in their quest for the turkey to put on their table and for the early Christmas shopping that was at hand; there were also preparations for the parties that would occur because of the Turkey Day Bowl. The air had a sharp, chilly air to it, and the trees had turned a myriad of colors; most of these hues were mainly varying shades of red, yellow, orange, and brown. There was a healthy scattering of the leaves strewn through the grass and being carried by the wind.

But there were three young men who were content enough to stay indoors for the day and out of the hectic bustling activity in the city.

Neighbors had watched the newest additions to their neighborhood come and go for four or five months now, living in a house that had been unoccupied for some time. They recognized the individuals from several brief encounters that had occurred for several years; it seemed that they would only stay in the house for a few days before leaving again, never really settling down. But now it seemed that the trio had chosen to stay put, and the neighbors could not muster up the courage to greet their new acquaintances. But really, who could blame them?

You might be intimidated, too, if your neighbors looked like theirs.

One of them was over six foot tall, with a build resembling that of Arnold Schwarzenegger. He often wore a royal purple duster and dark clothing, though as of late he had been emerging from the house in more commonplace clothing. His cropped, spiked blonde hair and the two earrings in his left ear completed the intimidating look of the man; if his appearance did not do the job, his piercing ice blue eyes did. This one appeared to be the unspoken leader of the trio.

The second member of the trio was a mysterious redhead, and many people were uncertain as to what gender this person had; it was rather hard to figure out why a male would choose to dress himself with dark clothes, midriff bearing shirts, and had magenta hair styled in a flip. His gray eyes possessed no emotion to them at all—in fact, he himself was an emotionless young man. He was a walking enigma.

The third and youngest of the bunch was the friendliest—and most normal looking—of the lot. The brunette had a plethora of fluffy, star-shaped spikes and cerulean eyes that were constantly lit up with some secret amusement. He usually was dressed in a plain white t-shirt with a red jacket and jeans; the only other outfit anyone saw him in was a short sleeved jacket with armored pads on his elbows, knees, and shoulders with dark pants.

But the trio never let it bother them what their neighbors thought of them. They'd all spent years ignoring what people thought about their choice in clothing; they were used to it, after all.

Or so Alister thought, with a wry smile on his lips.

The redhead was comfortably situated in the family room of their modest home, quietly reading one of his preferred mystery novels. Today, he was wearing an ivory short-sleeved turtleneck as opposed to his usual waist-revealing shirt; he did have normal length shirts, but he generally did not wear them until cold weather dictated that he do so, and with the bite of autumn-turning-winter in the air he figured it was about time to change his wardrobe.

His attention was mostly wandering between the story unraveling underneath his fingertips and thoughts of the present; perhaps it was because Thanksgiving was looming on the horizon, and this would be the first time in a long time that he would celebrate the holiday outside of DOOM. Deciding that it was a pointless effort to keep on reading, he rose to his feet and crossed to the window seat. He sat himself down and watched as the golden leaves blew in the wind, basking in the autumn sunshine that was filtering through the tree branches.

Several months back, the former organization that he and his two companions had worked for—Paradius to the public eye, DOOM behind the scenes—had disbanded after Dartz's resounding defeat at the hands of the Nameless Pharaoh. They had all gone their separate ways for a short time after that, trying to find some new meaning to their lives; up until that point, they had been pawns of Dartz's mad designs and it hadn't occurred to them that one day they might find themselves scattered to the wind. Initially, they'd all returned to their old homes with the exception of Valon; the boy refused to visit Australia and most likely never would.

However, all three had realized that they had grown too used to each other's company—and, if one wanted to delve into it further, they had bonded too thoroughly over the years to just walk away and pretend it had never happened—and had sought each other out. Alister was the first one to begin actively seeking his friends (Raphael had been doing just that since he had regained his soul). He had been visiting his old home where the war had occurred, but then had gone to France and had found Raphael. Then the two of them had headed to Domino to locate Valon, and they had been together since.

Alister was more than convinced that all three of their families had had some part in their reunion.

Miruko had visited Alister while he had been in his former hometown, reassuring Alister of his forgiveness and insisting that he seek out his friends. Similar occurrences also had happened to Raphael and Valon; Raphael's younger brother and sister had come to him in Alister's presence, offering their comfort and the whereabouts of the Australian (since they didn't know where he was at the time). And, when they had finally found him, Valon had mentioned that his nun—Mother Mary—had come to him, though she had not said a word. Her presence, however, had been more than enough for the teen.

Since that time, the three had established themselves in a modest home (one of DOOM's former safehouses). Alister supposed that Dartz had done one good thing—the particular house they were in had already had its mortgage paid off by the former company. All they needed to do was keep up with the bills, as well as maintain the yard and other similar chores.

They had been running short on finances as of late, though; it wasn't enough to jeopardize their living situation, since all three of them had pooled most of their money from their separate accounts into one used for paying the bills, but at the same time it wouldn't hurt to have extra money on hand. Raphael had taken the initiative and had acquired a job to help put more money in the bank. In fact, he would be at his job now except he had managed to catch a rather nasty cold. Until it cleared up, he was staying home for a couple of days.

That was the main reason that he and Valon were staying home as well. Why let a good friend suffer alone?

He heard footsteps coming down the staircase and he briefly turned his head, wondering if it was Raphael. The older man, at Valon's insistence, was supposed to remain in bed for the day and relax. If he needed anything he was supposed to let the other two get it for him; that, at any rate, was what Valon had said. Raphael had come down a couple of times, but after Valon had adamantly shoved the blonde back into his room and insisted that he remain in bed it was mostly the young Australian teen who had been downstairs.

As if on cue, Valon walked directly into Alister's line of vision, a soup bowl and an empty glass in his hands.

The Australian had not bothered to change out of his pajamas—a black tanktop with a yellow insignia and gray sweatpants—since he figured he didn't need to go out anyway. Valon's trademark goggles were not in their customary place at the moment (he kept them there mostly because of his motorcycle), so his hair was more unruly than it usually was.

"Judging by the glass and bowl, I can safely assume that Raphael is still alive," Alister remarked idly, watching the boy jump and whirl toward him in surprise. "Though I could say he's been alive because he came downstairs to make soup."

"Way t' give me a bloody 'eart attack," Valon replied with a scowl, continuing on his way to the kitchen. He disappeared into the other room for a brief second before returning to the family room. He plopped into the chair that Alister had been in moments before and asked, "Whatcha been up to, mate?"

Alister shrugged. "Reading."

"Really?" The teenager looked at the book on the coffee table with a questioning glance. "You're not now."

"I was just thinking."

"'Bout what?"

"Is it necessary for you to know?" asked Alister flatly, raising an eyebrow.

Valon rolled his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. "Some'ow, I shoulda guessed you'd say that," he muttered before he redirected his attention at his older companion. "'ey, Alister? Can I ask ya somethin'?"

The redhead, who had gotten up from his seat and had been crossing the room, briefly turned his head to Valon. "You have my attention," he stated flatly, angling his body so he was facing Valon fully instead of looking at the teenager over his shoulder.

Valon seemed to look distinctly uncomfortable as he looked at Alister, and the older man wondered vaguely what the Australian was about to ask him. He frowned slightly as he stood in the doorway to the kitchen. "Please don't tell me you want to know where babies come from. I believe Raphael has already established that topic as off-limits."

Valon's head contacted with his palm and he groaned. "I know tha', mate," he said irritably. "'e told me once, and tha's all that was needed, thank you kindly."

Alister allowed an amused smirk to appear on his face. "Now, I believe you were going to were going to ask me something," said Alister, noting that the uncomfortable look once again appeared on his younger friend's face at Alister's sentence. "So what is it?"

Valon looked at the ground. "I's kinda personal, mate. You don' usually answer personal questions."

"And since when has that been an issue? You ask whatever's on your mind, regardless of what it may be," Alister retorted.

Valon hesitated a moment longer before raising his eyes to look at the redhead and said, "Wha's your last name?"

Alister registered the question with surprise. Valon had been right—it had been a bit personal because it had to do expressly with Alister himself. That was why Valon had looked so uncomfortable, he realized then. He returned his attention to Valon, who had continued to talk since he hadn't cut the teenager off yet.

"Me 'n' Raph know tha' you don' like talkin' 'bout your past 'r your family 'r anythin' 'bout you in gen'ral..." trailed off Valon awkwardly, putting a hand behind his head and sheepishly rubbing the back of it.

"Of all the questions, though...my last name? Why do you want to know something like that?" asked Alister incredulously. He could not see any conceivable reason as to why Valon would need to know his surname; anyway, he could not remember what it was at the moment, though he wouldn't admit that out loud. "What's so special about knowing my last name?"

Valon's sheepish expression promptly disappeared, and a serious one took its place. "Well, i's just...I know Raph's last name, and I never 'eard what yours was, so..."

"Please tell me that you didn't wake Raphael up to ask that," said Alister, though not unkindly. He had gone upstairs to check on Raphael ten minutes ago when he had been getting another book and found the older man was taking a much-deserved nap; Valon had been in his room at the time, quietly listening to one of his CD's and reading one of his comic books.

The brunette shook his head and said, "Naw. I know better than that, chum. B'sides, I asked him back in DOOM 'bout tha'. Now I just need to know yours."

Alister sighed, nonetheless sitting back down on the sofa with his book in hand and sifting through his memories to try and find it; he'd had to use it to get his motorcycle license and driver's license and to sign the receipts of any purchases he made with his debit card, but he signed the receipts automatically without entirely thinking about it and he found that he could not remember it entirely (much to his annoyance).

At last, though, the name flashed through his mind. "Gayle. My full name is Alister Ioan Gayle," Alister replied at last, secretly pleased that he had remembered. "Does that satisfy your inquiring mind?"

The Australian grinned cheerfully. "Yup. Thanks, Alister."

"Since I told you mine, you have to tell me yours. Law of equivalent exchange," Alister said, reaching for his book.

There was a long silence. "...I...don' really 'ave one, mate," Valon said quietly.

Alister looked up sharply, forgetting about his book entirely and his gray eyes narrowing. "What does that mean?" he asked. "Everyone has a last name."

Valon sighed heavily, looking away and facing the wall as he spoke. "Well...I might 'ave one...but...oi, this is 'ard," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

This was obviously a difficult subject for the young teen to talk about. Alister remained silent, allowing Valon to string together the words he wanted to say. He was very patient; urging the brunette to talk when he was so clearly uncomfortable was not always the best idea, since Valon could be almost as enigmatic as Alister himself and would leave if he felt truly uncomfortable.

"When I was jus' a little anklebiter...m' folks...they just vanished," said Valon at last, his accent noticeably thickening. "I don' really know wha' 'appened to them. One day I woke up and…and they were gone. I barely remember what they look like. 'Eck, 'm not even sure 'bout my age...I do remember they were always worryin' 'bout money 'n' bills 'n' whatnot. They jus'...didn' want me anymore."

Alister somehow managed to keep the emotional turmoil he felt off his face, but it was a difficult battle and he very nearly came close to letting it out. He had not known that about Valon at all; he had harbored some suspicions, true, but he had not put any stock in them. Now that he was thinking about it, there had been many hints that Valon had been abandoned—the fact that he had never brought up his parents at all had been a blatantly obvious clue, among other things.

The immediate hatred for those people was intense, rivaled only by what he had felt for Seto Kaiba during DOOM.

How could people be allowed do such a terrible thing? How could they create a child, raise it, and then when the going got rough throw it aside like it was nothing? Children were not just inanimate objects—they were living things, people who did understand their surroundings and their circumstances.

At the same time that the anger registered, pity welled up in his chest for the Australian teenager. No wonder Valon acted so reckless most of the time; no one, with the exception of Mother Mary, Raphael, and himself, had ever looked after him. It explained also why Valon had tried to find his older friends after DOOM disbanded—they were the only real family he had ever known.

Alister rose to his feet, crossing the room to where Valon was. He gently laid a hand on the boy's shoulder; it was a rare display of emotion, since Alister usually kept such feelings to himself, but in this case he felt that it was warranted. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Valon jumped at the contact, looking back at the older biker with surprise. It faded after a moment and a forced grin appeared on his face. "Ahh, it's nothin', mate," he said with a shadow of his normal cheerfulness. "I got over it years ago, y'know? 'N' since they 'bandoned me I don' wan' anythin' t' do with 'em."

There was another long, awkward silence before Valon excused himself from the room, slipped beneath Alister's arm, and disappeared up the stairs again. Alister heard Valon's bedroom door shut, followed minutes later by the muffled beat of a Linkin Park CD.

Valon didn't play his music unless he was bothered by something or if he was bored. Judging by the topic of the conversation they had held moments ago, he felt safe in assuming that Valon was bothered. He didn't even try to go sit down and read his book. The enormous amount of new information was staggering, and he just did not feel like focusing on the mystery novel at the moment.

After hearing about what had happened to one of your friends, would you be able to focus on your book?

Valon sighed, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling broodingly.

The lyrics to one of Linkin Park's songs filtered into his hearing, but he didn't focus on the lyrics too much; he was too caught up in his own thoughts to really pay attention. Besides, Raphael was still taking a nap. He reached over to turn the radio off with a rueful sigh, rolling onto his side to stare at the wall.

He had long ago decided it was not worth the pain and heartbreak to find out what had happened to his parents, especially since they had left him behind. If they didn't care, then neither should he. The memories of his earlier childhood were so scattered and vague he could not remember most of them at all, but he did remember the day that he had been left alone in that house.

There was no way he could ever forget what they had done.

He started when he heard the sound of a motorcycle roaring to life outside his window and he rose onto his elbows, wondering vaguely who was leaving the house. It 'ad better not be Raph who jus' left, he thought with concern. His older friend was in no condition to be out and about; the cold that had a hold of the older blonde would not permit the man to drive a motorcycle without crashing it.

But the door opened to reveal the person in question and he sighed in relief. The older man's spiked blonde hair was a little ruffled, his face was slightly flushed and his eyes were still sleep-clouded, but there was still an attentiveness about him that told Valon he was wide awake. "'ey, Raph," he chirped in greeting. "'ow're ya feelin'?"

The older man offered him a wan smile. "Lousy."

"Then why're you outta bed, you crazy bloke?" said Valon lightly, watching as Raphael crossed the room to sit on the bed. "I thought I told ya t' stick in bed. You aren' gonna get any better if ya don' stay down."

Raphael grunted. "We're out of cold medicine and tissues. Alister went to the store to get some more."

"Ahh..."

The blonde eyed his younger companion with concern. "Are you feeling all right?" he asked gruffly, his eyes watching Valon intently. "You don't usually play your music unless something is bothering you," he continued, in response to the startled look on Valon's face.

"Aw no...did I wake you up?" asked Valon with concern of his own, mentally berating himself for turning on the radio. "'m sorry, Raph."

"You didn't wake me up, Valon. It's kind of hard to sleep when you can't breathe," Raphael replied sardonically, a small smirk appearing on his face that vanished seconds later. "But seriously...are you all right?"

Valon wondered why Raphael was asking him if he was okay until he realized that perhaps the blonde had overheard the conversation that had happened downstairs; he would not be surprised if that was the case. Raphael already knew of Valon's history with his parents, mainly because back at DOOM the Australian had gotten along better with the eldest of the trio than with Alister. Thankfully that had changed since they had met up again, though Alister could still be quite infuriating.

"There isn' anythin' you need to worry 'bout, chum!" he declared now, cuffing Raphael lightly on the shoulder.

The older man's eyes softened as he looked at Valon. "Just wanted to make sure," said Raphael at length, rising to his feet slowly. "The problem with a head cold is that is messes entirely with your inner ear and you can't seem to catch your balance," he continued with badly concealed irritation.

"Need help?" asked Valon, shooting off the bed and watching Raphael intently.

"Not really, but just in case you might want to stick by me in case gravity decides to mess with me," replied the older man after trying once again to keep his balance and nearly falling over. Valon wordlessly stepped closer to Raphael and draped the elder biker's arm over his shoulders.

Together, the two of them made their way down the hall and back to Raphael's room. The Australian waited until the blonde was comfortably settled in his bed before he placed his hands on his hips and said, "Now, don' you get up 'less it's an emergency. You're s'pposed t' get betta, you 'ear me?"

The older biker arched one of his eyebrows before offering the boy a mock salute. "Oui, mon capitaine," he said with as much gusto as he could manage.

Valon's eyes widened to the size of saucer plates. "'oly—Alister wasn' jokin', you really do speak French!"

Raphael felt an amused smile tug at the corner of his mouth, in spite of how awful he felt. "I am from France, Valon. You already knew that," he stated pointedly.

"Yeah, but I never 'eard you speak it once!" said Valon in excitement. After a moment, he got a weird look on his face. "I always thought tha' if you ever spoke French, it'd be like tha' talkin' candlestick from that one movie—"

"I never saw Beauty and The Beast."

"Really? 'e talks all funny. Sort of like he is some sort of romantic sap," said Valon, the last sentence coming out in what could be tentatively identified as a French accent. But since Valon was Australian to begin with, the attempt failed miserably.

Raphael could not help it. He erupted into booming, hearty laughter, occasionally interrupted by a jagging cough. Valon stared for a bit before allowing himself to chuckle as well, his eyes shining with mirth. The two of them laughed for several moments before Raphael's cough made it almost impossible for the man to breathe. Valon stopped laughing and looked worriedly at his friend.

"Well, tha' doesn' sound good. I'll get you some more water—can' 'ave you asphyxiatin' yourself, can we?" said the teen with a small amount of worry, rising to his feet and getting to the door.

"Valon."

The boy turned back to face Raphael. "Yeah, chum?"

"...You are wanted here. That will never change."

The boy stopped for a moment, surprise on his face. So Raphael had been listening to that conversation after all—no wonder he had ducked into Valon's room. Another moment passed and then the boy was giving the blonde an honest and genuine smile.

"Thanks, Raph."

Raphael watched with a thoughtful frown as the younger Australian left the room.

He knew that the boy was still aching, and he was more than determined to fix that problem in any way possible. But there was not much that he could do; he could not return to the past and fix it so that Valon had never lost his parents. And it was almost certain that Valon did not wish to see them now—the brunette had made that quite clear that they were not welcome figures in his life.

Raphael had meant what he had said to the Australian. There was a deep regret that Valon's parents had left behind such an interesting and caring child, but there was also righteous indignation that was evenly mixed with that regret. The people who had brought the boy into existence should at least have the common decency to raise him; to think that they would throw away their precious child, who they should treasure more than life itself was thoughtless and cruel.

He could only hope that he would never have to meet Valon's parents face to face.

But Raphael was also grateful that Valon was with him and Alister now. If his parents, by some cruel twist of fate, did show up once again he would not allow Valon to leave with them. Raphael was very certain that the redhead felt the same way, though he was not going to be so bold as to speak for Alister.

He sighed, leaning back into the pillows and yawning. As much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to do nothing more than return to sleep; Raphael had not gotten much of a nap from before, thanks to his cold. He had been a victim of a recurring headache all week long and the cough he'd developed was ghastly to listen to.

Raphael felt his eyelids droop and he closed them tiredly, but he opened them again. It wasn't right to fall asleep before Valon returned with the water...but he was having a lot of...difficulty...keeping his eyes...open...maybe he would...doze a bit...just until Valon returned...

Sometime later, he vaguely heard footsteps next to his bed, and he opened his eyes blearily to find their owner. He was fully expecting Valon to be standing next to his nightstand with a glass of water, telling him to go back to sleep. When he felt a light weight on the edge of his bed, however, he turned his head in the direction that the weight was coming from. He was a bit startled to notice Alister sitting on the edge of the bed.

"It looks like you were having a good nap," said the redhead quietly.

Raphael yawned, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "How long ago did you come back?" he asked groggily, stifling a cough with the back of his hand. He glanced at the clock; the time told him it was now late afternoon.

Alister shrugged. "About two hours ago. Valon told me you were asleep when he came up here with your water, so I decided to wait until you woke up. You were starting to cough quite a bit, though, so I figured that the medication finally wore off," he said, handing the older man a box of decongestant. Raphael took it gratefully, opening the package and separating a packet of the pills before looking at Alister.

The younger man looked bothered by some unnamed thought, though an outsider would have trouble seeing that; Alister's normally expressionless features made it impossible to guess what he was thinking, and it had taken him an inordinate amount of time to figure out how to interpret the redhead's emotions.

If Raphael had to wager a guess as to the subject of his friend's thoughts, it was because of Valon and their earlier conversation. He voiced that thought a moment later, and Alister looked at him sharply, his eyes wide with surprise.

"How did you know...?" he began before a look of comprehension appeared on his face and he said, "You overheard us talking, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I was up trying to find another tissue box when you were talking. He told me that back in DOOM," Raphael said quietly. "Found out about his parents the same way, too," he continued, shaking his head in disgust at the mention of Valon's family.

"I always figured that he lost his family, like us; no one claimed him after Dartz bailed him out of prison, so why else would he join DOOM? But I always thought that his parents died, or that he ran away from home. To think they would abandon him and leave him behind for such paltry reasons...it makes my blood boil," said Alister darkly, clenching his fist tightly.

Raphael eyed his younger friend with a near identical look on his face. "Me too," he said coldly, and for just a moment he looked rather dangerous. His expression softened almost immediately afterward. "It had to have hurt Valon to be left behind like that, though."

Alister nodded quietly, pondering on that as well. He could not even begin to imagine what it must have been like for Valon; both of the older bikers had come from loving and nurturing family environments. The Australian had come from the slums of Sydney, fighting from almost the day he was born for the right to survive.

Raphael took out two pills from the packet and reached for the glass that Alister silently offered, gulping both the water and the medicine down. As he did that, an idea hit him and he glanced at Alister thoughtfully. "Valon asked you what your last name was, didn't he?" he inquired.

Alister, who had been lost in his own thoughts, started at his friend's voice. After a moment, he nodded. A brief look of curiosity followed that statement, and he asked, "What are you thinking?"

Raphael smiled. "I may have an idea that will help Valon. It's only a temporary thing, but..."

"Come out here for a second, would you?" asked Alister, tapping lightly on his friend's closed door. Valon was listening now to what sounded suspiciously like a Breaking Benjamin CD, but he couldn't be certain since the volume was turned down and all of Valon's music sounded roughly the same.

A minute later, the music stopped and Valon's head popped into view. "Yeah, mate? Did Raph need some...thin'...?"

He blinked as he noticed Raphael standing in the hallway with Alister, and he felt a perplexed frown appear on his face. "Raph, somethin' wrong?"

"Not really. We just wanted to give you something," said Raphael as he handed the Australian a folded slip of paper, a slight smile on his face.

"What on earth, fellas?" Valon asked in confusion, baffled. He took the offered paper from the blonde and opened it to reveal two words written inside it.

It was immediately obvious that both of the words were not written the same way; the first one was written in Raphael's graceful and neat handwriting, the second in Alister's slanted and narrow penmanship. Either way he looked at it, though, there were still the two words on the paper.

Knighton-Gayle.

"You did mention that you didn't want to be named after the ones who abandoned you," said Alister now, cutting into Valon's perplexed thoughts. "But even so, you still need to have a last name. It's unheard of to not have a last name, especially when it comes to signing important documents and the like."

"So we'll let you borrow ours," concluded Raphael firmly. "You don't have to use it if you don't want to, but the offer stands."

Valon froze, looking up at his two friends with open disbelief. "Are you...are you serious, fellas? I can really...you mean...d'you mean it?" he asked, uncharacteristically stuttering.

Raphael and Alister nodded silently.

Valon felt an overwhelming, elated feeling welling in his chest, and his vision blurred. He ducked his head for a moment to make certain that he was not going to burst into tears; that would be just silly and he wasn't supposed to bawl like some sort of distraught—

"Valon?"

To heck with it.

Without another thought, he lunged forward to hug both of his friends tightly. He felt the two of them stiffen slightly; they were generally not affectionate with each other, usually allowing words to demonstrate their emotions. But almost immediately, they both relaxed and allowed Valon to embrace them.

"If you blokes don' mind, I'll use your names f'r a while. Thank you," he said softly, managing to not burst into tears.

A few minutes passed before Valon pushed himself away, muttering something under his breath about dust in his eyes. "House needs a cleanin'," he said, rubbing at his face vigorously.

"Yeah, we probably do. But it'll have to wait—I don't think that the cleaning chemicals will do wonders for my cold," said Raphael wryly, inadvertently sneezing as he finished.

"Point. 'ey, you fellas 'ungry? I'll make us some soup or summat if you want," chirped Valon cheerily.

Alister rolled his eyes. "There is no way we are letting you into a kitchen to make anything. Kitchen ban is still in effect."

"'Ey! I can cook!"

"If you mean you can cook up disasters, you would be right."

Raphael shook his head slightly in amusement at the playful banter. "I take it that you're the one who's hungry, Valon," he stated, beginning his descent down the stairs. Valon followed close behind him, an indignant look on his face.

"Oi, now. Just 'cause I asked doesn' mean tha' I was the one who's 'ungry, Raph," he said, lightly cuffing Raphael's shoulder. "You 'ave t' eat good food when you're ill, y'know."

His stomach, however, betrayed him by choosing that moment to growl loudly.

Alister looked up at the Australian's flushed face with a deadpan expression on his face. "Oh, yes. The fact you haven't eaten anything all day pertains nothing to your current interest in dinner."

"Like you're one to talk," retorted Valon playfully. "You need to gain some weight there, chum."

"...I'll keep that in mind. In the meantime, I'll be in the kitchen. If you two want to join, you're more than welcome to," said Alister in a business-like tone, and he disappeared into the kitchen. Raphael followed suit, still holding an amused expression.

Valon, however, hung back just a little bit. He wanted to see how his new surname sounded.

"Valon Knighton-Gayle," he whispered softly, a smile lighting his features as he said it.

He could get used to that.

Quick end note: "Knighton" is pronounced Nye-ten; Valon's new last name sounds like "Nightingale." :D

Kohakuhime out.