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Disclaimer: I don’t own The Fox and the Hound. All rights go to Disney.
A/N: I had never planned on this sort of fan fiction… but boyfriend and I were watching Fox and the Hound and any time Tod and Copper wrestled, all we thought was “gaaaaay.” Then boyfriend really wanted me to write gay teenage Topper.
Chapter One: Grass Stains and Backstories
Tod was six years old, running rampant through the perfectly nurtured garden that expanded across most of the front yard. He was a well-behaved child for the most part, but every once in a while, he was filled to the brim with energy, and it threatened to bubble over and explode inside him until he did something to sate it.
As his short legs propelled him forward in pursuit of a brightly colored butterfly that took pleasure in fluttering just out of the boy’s reach, the poor garden didn’t stand a chance. All at once, the nearly packed soil was disrupted and still-maturing stems were torn from their beds by small, Converse-clad feet.
Mrs. Tweed, who had taken Tod in when he was just a few months old, stood on her front porch with her hands on her hips. A sigh tumbled from her lips as she gazed out at the mess the young boy had left. She’d spent an entire day planting that specific section of her garden, ensuring that every seed was dropped exactly where she wanted it. And now, in a second, all of that work had been destroyed.
Even as she watched the young boy trample through the yard, tearing up the ground as well as staining his brand new clothes, she couldn’t find it in her heart to be angry with Tod. Frustrated, yes, but he was just a child, and an adventurous one at that. She understood him, and she loved him too much to bother with anger.
“Tod!” she called loudly. The orange-haired boy stopped in his tracks, his bright blue eyes widening anxiously. Worried he was in trouble, he hesitated, turning on his heel to glance at the front of the house where Mrs. Tweed stood. Her lips betrayed her, quirking into a smile, and Tod grinned, sprinting at full speed back to the house. He ascended the steps that led to the porch, gazing up at his kind caretaker with a toothy grin.
The kind old woman stared down at the boy, her round glasses slipping ever-so-slightly down the bridge of her nose. With one hand, she pushed them back into place. The other hand found Tod’s back, gently ushering him into the house.
“I’ll run you a bath,” she informed the child as she closed the door behind. “Leave your shoes with your dirty clothes. I’ll wash them, too.”
“Okay, Mommy!”
Tod followed Mrs. Tweed into the bathroom, watching with mild interest as she turned on the tub faucet. She tested the water’s temperature with her fingers, humming in satisfaction before plugging the tub. She added a squirt of bubble bath to the stream, watching as bubbles immediately formed on the water’s surface.
“Don’t forget to wash your face and your hair,” she reminded the boy, patting his head kindly before exiting the room. While he bathed, Mrs. Tweed headed to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner.
At just a few months old, Tod had lost his parents. They’d gone out for a date night, leaving Tod in the capable hands of their neighbor, an elderly African-American woman who enjoyed being referred to as Big Mama. There had been a car accident, and as they had no other family, Big Mama had been the one to determine what would happen to Tod. Thanks to her being a rather highly qualified social worker, she was able to hold onto the boy while she hunted for the perfect foster mother. She wouldn’t let just anyone take custody of someone so dear to her.
Enter Mrs. Tweed. She’d become a widow after her husband’s heart attack some years earlier, and she didn’t have much to keep her going, save for a small farmhouse on the edge of town and the handful of farm animals that she kept. She was the perfect candidate for Tod’s replacement family.
Tweed often debated with herself over whether or not she would ever tell Tod the truth. He had a right to know, of course, but she would have to devote a lot of time to the proper wording, so that the bright-eyed, red-haired boy would understand that just because he didn’t share blood with Mrs. Tweed didn’t mean they weren’t family.
After his bath, Tod dressed in a brown-and-white striped long-sleeved shirt, black jeans, and white sneakers. White shoes may not be the best choice for a hyperactive six-year-old, but Mrs. Tweed had seen them- on sale- and thought they would look adorable on her adopted son.
And they did.
“Can I play in the forest?” the red-haired boy inquired as he approached his guardian in the kitchen.
Mrs. Tweed turned to him with a smile on her lips as she opened the oven door. “Of course you can. Just be home before dark. Dinner will be ready in an hour.”
Tod managed a nod as he fled outside, making a beeline for the forest of trees that separated Mrs. Tweed’s property from the neighbor’s. As he reached his favorite tree, the one that split down the middle and offered him plenty of branches on which to climb, he was surprised to find another boy around his age already struggling to get a foothold on the trunk.
The red-haired child approached the boy, his impulsive instincts colliding drastically with the polite manners he’d been taught. “Who are you?” was the kindest greeting he could manage.
The boy jumped, startled by the sudden voice. He turned to look in the direction of its source, revealing a head of neatly combed chocolate brown hair and honey colored eyes that glittered in the sun. At first, he’d been afraid of getting in trouble, being caught playing in a tree that wasn’t his in which to play. But when he saw that the question emanated from a being no older than himself, the brunet relaxed and offered the other a crooked smile.
“Toby,” he told the boy, retracting his foot and jumping down from the tree. “What’s your name?”
“Tod,” replied the other, his bright orange curls falling in his eyes before he shook his head to move them. “Do you wanna play?”
For a moment, caution and a hint of fear flashed in Toby’s eyes. He glanced back towards the other end of the forest, where the property line to his home was. He paused, as silent as could be, as though he were waiting for something. When nothing happened, he turned back, grinning brightly at Tod and nodding his head.
Tod returned the expression, and the two began a game of Tag. Toby took off, weaving between the trees as he often did when on the run from his older brother. As he ducked behind a particularly thick tree, he leaned to the left, peeking out in hopes of catching where the redheaded boy was roaming. He lost himself in his gaze, unaware of tiny footsteps approaching from behind.
“Gotcha!” shouted a high voice, and a body launched at Toby’s back. The boys laughed brightly as they tumbled to the ground, rolling in the dirt and effectively staining each of their outfits. Neither child could be bothered to care, however, as they scrambled to their feet and initiated another round.
Toby had never had so much fun in his short life. His older (adoptive) brother, Chief, thought he was too cool to spend time with the six-year-old. He was eleven already, and he had school friends who would join him in catching frogs and trapping moths and igniting anthills. He couldn’t be bothered showing emotion for the younger brother he never asked for.
Unbeknownst to either of the boys, they came from similar backgrounds. The difference was that Toby’s family hadn’t been lost in a tragic accident. They had given him up after his birth, deciding for one reason or another that they couldn’t care for him. As a baby, he’d been placed in the foster system, and shortly after, he was taken in by Amos Slade, a proud hunter and father of one. He had thought that his son could use a regular playmate, though when he informed Chief of his plan, the five-year-old had been far less than enthused.
Toby never understood why Chief despised him so. As far as the young brunet could comprehend, he hadn’t done anything wrong to his older brother, aside from the usual sibling quarrels and getting Chief reprimanded for responding with violence when he grew frustrated with Toby.
As the afternoon progressed, it drew closer to evening. Tod’s stomach began to rumble, pleading for sustenance, and the young redhead wondered just how long he’d been gone.
Toby’s face expressed the same sentiment, although it was fear flashing in his amber eyes, not hunger. “I gotta get home,” he informed his new friend, his voice small and uncertain.
Tod nodded. “Okay. Can we play again tomorrow?”
The corner of Toby’s mouth lifted in a shy smile. “I hope so.”
The brunet turned and sprinted through the woods, reaching the property line of his yard. He made his way inside, heading straight to the bathroom to wash his hands and face. He also changed out of his battered clothing, knowing how angry his father would be if he saw the stains Toby had added to his wardrobe.
Once he was sufficiently clean, he headed to the kitchen where his father had just finished cooking dinner. Chief was already sat at the table, a smug smirk on his face as though he knew Toby was going to get in trouble. Toby took his usual seat across from his brother, his short legs dangling off the edge of the chair as they weren’t yet long enough to touch the floor.
“Where were you?” Amos inquired, his voice stern but not yet angry. He piled food onto three plates before setting one in front of each of his sons.
“Playing,” Toby answered obediently.
“Where?” was his father’s next question.
“In the woods.”
Amos seemed satisfied. It wasn’t yet dark and Toby hadn’t missed dinnertime, so he let his irritation at the near miss slip for now. As his father went about serving dinner, Chief’s smirk fell. He had hoped Toby was too late, or playing somewhere he shouldn’t. He had been certain that his little brother was gonna get a scolding.
The three ate in relative silence. Once dinner was done, Amos sent the boys up to the bathroom to brush their teeth. Toby kept a practiced distance away from his brother. Standing too close had earned him a face full of saliva and toothpaste more than once, and he didn’t care to endure it again.
Before long, the boys were ready for bed. They bid goodnight to Amos, changed into pajamas, and went to their respective rooms to sleep.
Tod made it home just before dark, just as Mrs. Tweed was finishing up dinner. She smiled as the boy returned home, not even batting an eye at the grass stains on his shoes. She simply sent him to was up as she loaded up two plates with food, setting them on the table. Beside each plate was a glass of milk.
Tod washed his hands and face before changing into his pajamas. He didn’t normally put on his night clothes so early, but he didn’t want to waste an entire outfit for the sake of the two hours he had left before bed. Ready to go, he headed back to the kitchen to have dinner with his mother.
Half an hour later, they both finished. Mrs. Tweed set their dishes in the sink, planning to wash them after she put her son to bed. Tod led her to his room and she watched him climb into bed before she sat on the edge of it. She tucked the blankets in all around him, ensuring that he was cozy and snug as she leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead.
“Goodnight, Mom!” the redhead beamed up at his mother.
Mrs. Tweed chuckled softly. “Goodnight Tod.”
*In case you’re wondering, Toby will be called Copper later. I have most of this story planned out in great detail. The name Toby is what Copper is called in the Spanish, Brazilian, and Italian versions of the movie.