Work Text:
There's a routine.
There's a routine because there needs to be a routine, even if that routine doesn't seem to be a routine.
The trick is this: have several routines, broken into segments, that can be mixed and matched and re-arranged as needed. This way, a routine can be had without ever being derailed by unexpected events. Unexpected events are simply rolled into the routine.
The current routine is simple: balance and juggle.
It takes a lot of work to keep in good form and Barnaby finds it handy to get the practise in first thing in the morning, or at least first thing after he wakes up. He's pretty good at it, if he does say so himself, and succeeding at something so early in the morning puts a more positive spin on his day.
It helps, of course, that the day is bright and pleasant. He doesn't mind the rain, but it does put a crimp in his balancing practise. Wet grass is too slippery and a tumble is not only painful, but demoralizing. On those days, he sticks to things that can be done indoors, like the juggling or balancing balls on his nose instead of balancing himself on the ball.
If there's something lying around, he eats breakfast. If not, he waits. He'll be by Howdy's at some point and that will save him having to prepare anything. If he thinks of it, he might get something easy to bring home with him for later.
He checks in on Wally next. Not because Wally is especially in need of checking in on, but because he occasionally forgets how to function. Which sounds like needing to be checked in on, but Barnaby will insist that it's nothing like that.
Wally is fully capable of taking care of himself, but he relates to the world differently than anyone Barnaby has ever met. When there is too much going on, he switches off as though to let his head catch up with everything that's happening. However, when there isn't enough going on, he has a hard time starting up. Barnaby checks in on him in case he's trapped in the latter, hoping the interruption will be enough to goad him into action instead of sitting home alone.
Being alone makes everything worse.
Barnaby supposes it's a good thing Wally lives in Home, who can speak with him and keep him company. Even so, Home is not equipped to nudge Wally out the door in the morning, so Barnaby gives it a hand.
Besides, he likes Wally.
He isn't sure the rest of the neighbourhood does. They're nice to him, sure, but also puzzled by him. It puts them off sometimes.
Barnaby doesn't really understand it. Wally seems fine to him. A bit childlike in his frank curiosity, naivety, and bluntness, but... Well... Once all that is accounted for, what difference does it make?
Wally doesn't need goading. He's already up and outside, sitting in front of his easel, dabbing paint at intervals.
"Hey, Wally," he says.
"Hi, Barnaby," Wally replies amiably. Wally is always amiable.
"What'cha workin' on?"
"Oh, I'm painting a picture."
"Do you need a model?"
"No."
Barnaby isn't put off by the flat reply. He knows it isn't meant as an insult, only the truth. Wally doesn't need a model because Wally isn't painting the neighbours.
"Sticking to flowers and gardens today?"
"Yes," Wally tells him. And then, when Barnaby stays quiet, adds, "Julie is redecorating and wants a picture of the gardens for her wall."
"Julie, eh?" he says with an inflection Wally would never understand. "Can I watch?"
"Yes," Wally replies, so he does.
He likes watching Wally paint. It's very calming. Sometimes Wally talks about what he's painting and sometimes he doesn't. Either way, there's something special in watching shapes take form on a canvas.
There is something special in Wally, too. Something more akin to a younger brother than a simple friend and he cannot help but tease a little, nosing Wally in the back as he rinses his brushes or mock-biting Wally's arm when he's been sitting too still for too long.
Never when his brush is on the canvas.
"Barnaby, I'm working," Wally protests, but lightly. And then, when he experimentally teases a little bit more, "I'm working, Barnaby."
"Two times in a row! This must be some serious painting," he says. "Okay, I'll leave you be. I'll even sit back here so I'm out of your way."
Barnaby flops down in the grass, nearer to Home, and watches as Wally judiciously adds jots of colour to his canvas, filling out bushes, shrubs, and trees with mottled green and the garden with bursts of flowers, bright against the leaves.
He thoughtfully packs the bowl of his pipe and smokes as he watches, admiring Wally's absorbtion in his work. He loves the kid, though they're nothing alike, but neither was his mother anything like himself and his admiration and respect for her knows no bounds. Maybe her giving nature has rubbed off on him a little... or maybe having someone else to care for makes a difference.
Barnaby hopes the former, but strongly suspects the latter, and tries not too think to hard about it. If he does, he might obsess, or let his dependencies show, and Wally doesn't need that kind of pressure.
He honours Wally's intense focus with silence, not even chatting with Home although he's done so on other occasions. Wally admonished him twice and that means the work is important to him. Barnaby holds his tongue and waits until Wally finally cleans his brushes and puts them aside, sliding off his stool to join Barnaby on the ground, sitting up against him and leaning into his warmth.
"All done?" Barnaby prompts.
"No," Wally tells him. "It still has to dry. But it can do that by itself. I don't need to help it."
"Thank goodness for that! I was half-afraid you would tell me you needed to use a towel."
"Oh. No. That wouldn't do at all," Wally's says. His tone hasn't shifted, but his words have the clipped tempo of personal horror. "A towel would just smear the paint."
"So you know why I was so shocked!" Barnaby says, feigning great alarm that flows into a chuckle. "I'm lucky you're here to set me right, kid. What would I do without you?"
"Go to Howdy's?" Wally says, puzzled, and Barnaby tries his best not to laugh.
I would die.
"Maybe," Barnaby admits. "But not before making a huge mess of a painting by trying to dry it with a towel! Speakin' of Howdy, Howdy-you like to head on over to the bodega and grab a hot dog?"
"Ha. Ha. Ha. I would like that," Wally says, "but I have to give Julie her painting."
"There's no law says we can't do both. We'll bring the painting to Julie and then go to Howdy's. It's a longer route, but it's a nice day for a stroll."
"It's a nice day for painting too."
"For all kinds'a things," Barnaby agrees and gives Wally a pat.
He doesn't mind the change. The walk is a routine, but its length and direction can vary. The important part is moving around and watching Wally become absorbed in the world around him.
The canvas is large and Barnaby offers to hold it while Wally puts his paints and brushes away. Through Home's open door, Barnaby can see him stop before a mirror to pat his hair and smooth his jacket.
Wally blows his reflection a kiss when everything is just right and Barnaby chuckles to himself. Wally's never struck him as particuarly vain, but he is a bit of a dandy and likes to be smartly dressed. If he also seems taken with his own reflection, it is usually in the mechanics of it and the way everything moves in opposition.
Wally blows kisses to Home as he leaves and they head toward Julie's house, Wally alternating between concern for the way Barnaby is carrying his canvas and a need to drink in all the sights and sounds around him.
"Don't worry, kid, I'm being careful," Barnaby reassures him as they approach Julie's front walk. "I might be just a tiny little pooch, but I can still keep this big ol' painting from hitting the ground. Besides, do you really want to be carrying it when —"
"Wally! WallyWallyWally!"
Julie finishes Barnaby's thought for him as she bursts through her front door, races across the yard, and barrels straight into Wally, nearly bowling them both over.
"Wally, you have to dance with me!" Julie insists, doing her best to squeeze the life out of him. "Sally wants me to dance in a play, but I need to practise and Frank says he's too busy."
"Hi, Julie," Wally says. "I brought your painting. Well... Barnaby brought it, but I made it."
"You're gonna have to throw things at him one at a time, Jules," Barnaby says, holding up the canvas. "He can't catch all your thoughts when he's focused on getting this to you in one piece."
"Oooo! It's beautiful!" Julie exclaims, letting go of Wally to get a better look at the painting.
Barnaby thinks Wally looks a bit disappointed at being released, but Wally doesn't have time to fret over it as Julie grabs his hand and tows him toward her house.
"You have to help me put it up!" she insists, and then leaves him at the door to run back and get the painting.
"You sure you don't want me to bring it in for ya?" Barnaby says, handing off the canvas. Although he can squeeze himself in if necessary, he knows he's an awkward fit for most of the neighbours' houses. "Tiny pup like me... you'd never even know I was around."
"Oh, Barnaby," Julie huffs, but does not point out it's not true. She knows he knows his own size. "We'll only be a minute. Come on, Wally. I'll show you where I'm putting it!"
"Okay," Wally agrees and follows her inside.
Barnaby can't see the full room from the window, but he can see enough to know that Julie has Wally helping her mount the canvas above the sofa, a place of honour. He flops down on the grass, self-satisfied and pleased, and waits for their return.
As promised, it isn't long, but now that the painting has been hung, Julie is eager to move on.
"I need you to dance with me," she tells Wally again. "I need to practise for Sally's play!"
"Oh. I don't know if I can dance," Wally tells her.
"I'll show you! It'll be fun!"
"Okay."
Wally pauses as though considering something.
"Oh," he says, "but I promised Barnaby I would go to Howdy's and get a hot dog with him."
A number of routines open up before him and Barnaby ponders their merits.
He could insist that Wally come with him. It's a bit mean, but Wally is cheering and Barnaby could use all the cheering he can get today.
He could leave Wally with Julie and go to Howdy's on his own. Howdy is always good for a bit of companionship, even if he's a sight more cynical than Wally.
He could change their plans and stay flopped on Julie's lawn while she and Wally practise her steps.
Or...
"Why don't you ask Julie to come with us?" Barnaby says. "I'll buy you both an ice cream soda and you can practise dancing in front of the bodega."
"Okay," Wally agrees. "Julie, would you like to —"
"I'd LOVE to!" Julie gasps before Wally can even finish asking the question. She grabs his hand and tows him toward the path, leaving Barnaby to pick himself up and call after them.
"Jules! You're gonna have to slow up! I'm just a tiny puppy with tiny puppy legs. I can't possibly keep up with ya!"
"Oh, Barnaby," Julie huffs again, but she does moderate her pace.
Barnaby appreciates this, more for Wally's sake than his own. It isn't that Wally can't or doesn't run, but no matter how hard he tries, Julie is always twice as fast and forceful than he is. She tries to be mindful, but her energy sometimes gets the best of her, so a brief reminder never hurts.
Julie moderates her pace, but it doesn't stop her from occasionally veering off the path to show Wally a bright flower or chase down a butterfly. Wally doesn't seem to mind, holding her hand tightly in turn, but then Wally never seems to mind, smiling softly at everything he sees. Only Barnaby knows for certain that his interest is genuine. It's in the slant of his head and the weight of his eyelids, half-lowered in easy pleasure, like a cat in the sun.
Howdy's bodega is as bright as ever, noisier now that they've invaded and Julie talks eagerly of the dance she's meant to perform.
"Well, Barns, looks like you've got a tag-along," Howdy comments as they approach the counter. "Is she coming for the regular too?"
"I'm the only regular today," Barnaby informs him. "Wally's been lured away by the crowned Jules. She's got the theatre bug and wants him to be part of her class act."
"That so?" Howdy says, looking them over.
Tall as he is, Wally and Julie look like children before him.
"Sally wants me to dance, but I need a partner and Frank's busy, so Wally's going to help me," Julie says propping her elbows on the counter. "Oh, and Barnaby said he'd buy us a soda. Strawberry. Two scoops."
Howdy glances toward Barnaby who nods, not that there's any reason for Julie to lie.
"All righty then," Howdy says. "That's one strawberry for the little lady. What about you, Walls?"
"I would like strawberry too, please," Wally says. And then, "What do you call a fizzy drink that makes people smile?"
This surprises Barnaby. It's not a joke he recognizes.
Howdy only grins and leans on the counter to look down at Wally.
"I give up, Walls. What do you call a fizzy drink that makes people smile?"
"A nice cream soda."
It's a simple joke, but not bad, all the more impressive for having been introduced by Wally without prompting. Howdy chuckles in appreciation as Wally continues to smile serenely although Barnaby can tell he's proud of his success.
"I like it served with cheery pie," Julie adds and Howdy guffaws although Barnaby knows the comment isn't up to his usual standards.
"Looks like you don't need to treat them after all, Barns," Howdy says as he turns away to make the drinks. "Teaching them all you know?"
"Pfft. Like anyone has that many seconds to spare," Barnaby says. "Especially when the only seconds I'm interested in are hot dogs. These one are all theirs."
Howdy finishes the drinks and passes them to Wally and Julie, who sip them, whispering and giggling together.
Well, Barnaby amends, Julie whispers and giggles as she sips her drink. Wally merely regards her with eager interest, holding his soda glass in both hands.
"We're going to sit outside," Julie eventually calls to Howdy, turning to the door. "Come on, Wally."
"Okay," Wally agrees. He follows after her, still clutching his glass, as Howdy turns around, holding a loaded hot dog.
"Bring your glasses back," he calls after them, holding the hot dog out to Barnaby. "One dog whipped into a frenzy, just for you."
Whipped it is, smothered in mountainous peaks of cream and topped with a cherry.
He trades barbs with Howdy for a while and asks after his family. Tales of Howdy's family are always amusing and long and rambling besides, leaving plenty of time for hot dog eating between pointed comments and questions for clarification. Nevertheless, Barnaby's attention eventually drifts towards the window through which he can see Julie and Wally dancing or, rather, Julie dancing as Wally sways and pivots to accommodate her.
Julie laughs as the steps become too complicated for Wally to follow and pauses to go over them or at least the direction in which Wally should move, adjusting the position of his arm at her waist.
"Cute couple, aren't they?" Howdy says, leaning against the counter.
"Nah," Barnaby chuckles. "Not that I'd mind. I think it'd be nice if they got together — heck, I even joke about it sometimes — but I'm pretty sure Wally doesn't feel anything more for her than Frank does. Which is a lot, but not... you know."
"No wedding bells anytime soon."
"Heh, no," Barnaby agrees. "Although a wedding might be good for the neighbourhood."
Howdy shrugs.
"Well, you never know. Maybe one day," he says. "If not Wally and Julie, then maybe someone else."
Frank and Eddie, Barnaby thinks, but does not say. He knows they have a greater interest in each other than they dare to admit, even to themselves. He sees no issue with it, nor do the other neighbours as far as he's aware, but there are places outside of their happy home where people are not as accepting.
Julie is out of soda and Wally offers her some of his as he never finishes what he orders. Julie accepts cheerfully and sips from the straw as Wally holds the glass, and Barnaby feels melancholy, half-wishing that Howdy's observations were true and half-relieved that Wally harbours no apparent feelings of romance. He worries about Wally and wants someone else in his life to look out for him, but also wants to keep the number one spot in his friend's heart.
It's a selfish thought, but a thought it remains, and Barnaby vows to keep it that way.
Dancing turns to chit-chat, and when Julie has finished the last of Wally's soda, they bring their glasses in as Howdy requested.
"Thank you kindly," Howdy says, whisking the glasses away for washing. "You two seemed to be having a good time."
"I think showing Wally helped me learn the dance better," Julie says, "but I also think it needs more twirls. I'll tell Sally when I see her."
"Sounds good, sounds good. Can I get you something else?"
"I'm ready to head back, but I can wait a bit if you two are hungry," Barnaby says, but is relieved when Julie declines.
"Frank should be done his work soon and I still want to show him my dance," she says. "I'll even show him the twirls and he can tell me if he thinks they should stay in."
"I think he'll love it, Jules. How about you, Wally? You ready to go?"
"Yes," Wally says, seldom anything but direct.
Barnaby ushers them out the door and they walk Julie home first. She doesn't need the honour guard, but she's still eager to chat — enough so that she doesn't mind their slower pace — nattering on to Wally about Sally's play and the new games she has in mind.
There's something comforting in her enthusiasm, but Barnaby is still glad when they drop her off. Energy is great, but so is quiet and he's had enough of the former to make the latter more attractive.
It's still quite light out when they get to Home and Barnaby flops back onto the lawn when Wally suggests they sit and talk. Wally likes to "sit and talk" although Barnaby has noticed that it usually means he talks and Wally listens until prompted otherwise. That or they sit in comfortable silence, which doesn't bother Barnaby at all. It's simply another facet of their routines and one that is especially enjoyable.
Barnaby loafs in the grass and Wally curls up in the crook of his paw, head pillowed against his shoulder.
"Did you have fun today, Wally?" Barnaby prompts.
Wally's smile never changes, but his eyelids lower dreamily, indicating he is happy, or satisfied, or generally comfortable.
"Yes," he says. "I like dancing with Julie even though I don't dance as well as her."
"You're right," Barnaby admits. There's no point in lying and Wally isn't putting himself down so much as stating a fact. "But don't count yourself out. You did a pretty good job considering you didn't know the dance at all and she was only practising what Sally already showed her."
"That's true," Wally agrees.
"I really liked your joke," Barnaby says. "You thought it up by yourself and everything!"
"Yes," Wally says. "When you said you would buy us 'an ice cream soda', I thought it also sounded like 'a nice cream soda'. And because it would make people smile if it was ice cream, but also if it was nice cream, I thought they could sound like the same thing."
"You got it in one. I'll make a comedian out of you yet!"
"Barnaby, when Julie said 'cheery pie', did she mean it like 'cherry pie'?"
Barnaby chuckles.
"She sure did," he tells Wally. "It was supposed to be a sound-alike pun, like your joke, although I think you did a better job of it."
"Okay," Wally says, oblivious to the compliment. "I thought she did, but I wasn't sure."
"And that's okay," Barnaby assures him. "It's good that you asked me instead of her though. It would have made her feel bad if she thought you didn't understand her joke."
"You tell her you don't understand her jokes all the time."
"Yeah, but I'm a no good, rotten, punk of a neighbour," Barnaby says, grinning. "And you're a good kid. No point in getting people mad at both of us."
"I don't think you're no good or rotten," Wally insists.
Barnaby chuckles. "But I'm definitely a punk?"
"I don't know. What's a punk?"
"Someone who's rotten and no good."
"Oh," Wally says and snuggles more deeply into Barnaby's arm. "I don't think you're a punk either."
"Thanks, kid."
They sit quietly a while and Barnaby resists the urge to lick Wally's face and hair, grooming him like a puppy. He isn't a puppy — something Barnaby continually reminds himself — and doesn't groom himself that way, but it's an instinct buried deep and a form of care that Barnaby has never received. He doesn't blame his adoptive mother for this — it's something she could never do and she cared for him in her own way — but it's still a symbol of acceptance. He doesn't know the circumstances of his abandonment, but the fact remains that he was left behind by those who should have nuzzled and groomed him and he wants to reassure Wally that he is wanted and appreciated in every way that he knows how.
The light is starting to dim and it isn't good to stay out after dark, so Barnaby nudges Wally back to attention and tells him it's time for bed. Wally seems reluctant to get up, but knows that he must, so he stretches and sighs and clambers to his feet, catching Barnaby's waistcoat before Barnaby can stand and tower over him.
"Goodnight, Barnaby," Wally says, pressing his face against the fabric of the vest. "I love you."
"I love you too, kid," Barnaby tells him, giving Wally a pat and hoping he doesn't sound as choked up as he feels.
"You should come and visit tomorrow," Wally says. "I won't be painting this time. Maybe we can play a game or go for a walk or go get hot dogs again."
"Sounds good, Wally. I'll be here with bells on."
"Oh, you don't have to wear bells, Barnaby."
Barnaby laughs.
"That's just an expression. It means I'll be here and I'll be extra-happy about it 'cause I'll be coming to see you."
"Oh," Wally says although Barnaby doesn't think he really understands the expression. "I'll be happy to see you too."
They say their goodbyes and Barnaby waits until Wally is safely inside before heading home. Inside, the house is dark and dismal, devoid of life and laughter.
Somewhat.
The atmosphere is lighter than it had been that morning. He followed some routines and they were good ones: practise his balancing, check on Wally, take a walk, go to Howdy's, sit and chat... Even Julie had joined in and added more brightness than he expected.
There would be more routines tomorrow: practise his balancing, check on Wally, take a walk... Maybe even a discussion on the decorative nature of bells. He wonders if he should get Sally involved in it. She might find it an interesting source of inspiration for costumes.
Routines are good. Routines make it easier to get through the day. Routines involving Wally make it possible to get up at all.
Barnaby curls up and goes to sleep.
Tomorrow is another day.