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Thursday evening, an empty house. Nico laid on his sofa in dusty atmosphere of his family's single-wide trailer in pajama pants and a loose black t-shirt, scrolling through his phone. Bills were due, and after getting let go from his job, Nico had been struggling to make ends meet. The Sionnach household was packed. Nico, his five children, his father and his grandfather, all living in one home, a loving family but a family without much room. His father, Ganymede, was a manager for a local garage, and yet never seemed to have any money to help pay the mortgage or the electricity or the groceries, or...really much of anything. He always had beer and he always had money to go out on weekends, but he never had money for anything useful.

Tros, Nico's grandpa, carried most of the rent on his retirement money. He could carry it all, really, rent and groceries and bills, but Nico didn't want it to be that way. Tros had moved in a few years ago, after the children were born, using them as an excuse to move back home when, in reality, it was his old age and loneliness that drove him to want to move back in with his family. He was a widower and had been for decades, and he had taken that loss in stride, spending much of his time outdoors and camping, but in his older years he found himself longing for company again. His masculine pride prevented him from admitting that, though, so when his grandson told him he was a great-grandfather, he found it the perfect excuse to join them in the house. While he was happy to carry the weight, allowing that to still prove himself as "man of the house" even in his 70s, Nico felt guilty being that co-dependent on his grandfather, so he'd taken up his old work, selling himself until he could find stable employment again.

This particular Thursday had Nico alone, though. Ganymede was out drinking, Tros was on one of his weekend camping trips, and Buck had three days off and had begged for Nico to let him watch the kids and let them have a sleepover. Despite being an ex-boyfriend, Buck couldn't be happier to help raise the children, having always wanted kids of his own, and "Uncle Buck" was always looking for an excuse to get to babysit. This, however, left Nico in an empty house with bills owed, so he did what he was known to do and was searching hookup apps for men that were willing to pay. It was a little safer and less intimidating than his old way of doing things, which was hanging out around truck stops hoping for guys to pick him up and pull him into the privacy of a truck camper, which was a lot more intimidating than it sounds.

The selection on these apps was largely unremarkable. There were always regulars, easy pickings that you'd always see late at night when the distractions of the day faded and men were left with only their bodies and their bodies' desires. Some of them, Nico had been with a few times. Some of them, he knew well. Others had never connected with him, some he could just tell were going to be bad news. Nico, though born male, had a vulva between his legs, a man with his entire sex being functionally female. Through circumstances difficult to summarize and lacking of any sound medical explanation, the fox was left in an unusual anatomical purgatory.

With that anatomical situation in mind, though, he had to be careful about what types of men he pursued. Straight men often didn't want to be with someone who was, outside of his sex, a man, while gay men often didn't want his setup, and it left him at an impasse with who he could successfully convince to pay for sex. That was all on top, of course, of his disinterest in going out and sleeping around for money anyway. It had gotten old years ago, and once he found stable employment he'd hoped to never return to it. That said, with financial difficulties alongside self-destructive impulses, he found himself not only returning to hooking while gainfully employed, but even moreso afterward.

The living room wherein he perused for tonight's companion was a small setup, a singlewide trailer where the living room and kitchen were both occupying the same "room", only separated by linoleum floor instead of carpet, and a slight kitchen bar that stuck out from the wall. Nico was laying on the sofa, a television a few feet away from the side on which his feet were resting, playing some indiscernible show at a low volume and casting a blue glow that laid across him opposite the warm glow of the lamp on the side table behind his head. There was a stale, musty smell to the home from where cigarettes used to be smoked inside, years ago, before the kids were born. That had ceased once they were brought home, but the stale smell still lingered, amidst the smell of potpourri and air fresheners meant to combat fox smell. It was the trademark of Nico's species, an aromatic breed, and when you had a house full of eight of them, it stuck to everything. So, alongside stale tobacco and fox musk were air fresheners of warm blueberry muffins, rustic apple tarts, an oddly comforting smell having settled on the furniture with the rest of the aromas.

No potential partners had stuck out to the fox just yet, but as he swiped through options, he found one he'd never seen before. A profile pic displayed the collarbone, neck, and bearded jawline of a male, some sort of hybrid that sported fur with a reptilian underbelly, a man totally unfamiliar to Nico, username "RodeoRattler". The fox's face scrunched up with a confused smile at the name, goofy but endearing. Nico's own profile photo was suggestive as well, meant to sell him exactly as he was, the picture a square photo that started just below his nipples and stopped just below his waistline, showing off a thin red-furred body with generous black body hair, just beginning to bush out at the bottom of the photo, his hip bones noticeable, enticing as they trailed down to the bottom edge of the picture. His bio was simple, "a different kind of man".

The hybrid's bio, though, was just as vague: "everything's bigger in Texas". They weren't even in Texas, though, Nico thought, finding himself only more interested, enough so that he'd tap the little heart button on the hybrid's profile to show interest. He didn't like to make the first move, preferring to let the opportunity fall in his lap...for legal reasons. Prostitution was a crime, but so was soliciting. If Nico had the time to vet a mate beforehand and see that they were clearly interested, he'd be more inclined to take the risk going to meet them. He'd narrowly avoided trouble mostly, but he'd been arrested once before, thankfully not leading to much of anything. Still, a risk was a risk, and he'd close his phone so as to not have replies auto-read, laying it on his belly and staring up at the ceiling as he waited to see where things went, if they went anywhere at all.

In another home, a hybrid was sitting on his loveseat in the living room of his own trailer. Far from the wood paneling and antiquated design of the Sionnach household, the hybrid--known as Floyd--was marginally more modern. His home had yellow wallpaper, a slightly retro yellow that had some sort of vague embossing design on it that gave it a textured look from certain angles. A single loveseat and television were the main floor-level decorations, most of the rest being hung on the walls: various rodeo trophies and photos, decorative western aesthetics scattered amidst them, including saddle and lasso hung unavoidably obvious opposite the front door, making them the first thing you'd see upon entering.

Floyd, a rattlesnake-dragon hybrid, was a pale green male with yellow-green soft underbelly, bearded face and pushed back long hair that threatened to be a mullet, rattlesnake markings on his arms and down his back, traveling down his tail to the rattle he proudly sported. Tails were not entirely common among anthros in modern society, appearing in about 40% of them, seeming to be less common with every generation, and Floyd was quite proud of his. Floyd was quite proud of a lot about himself, in fact, which is why moments after getting that heart notification from Nico, he'd already replied with a picture of his dick, as men are known to do. It was preceded by a few introductory messages, but it happened with moments just the same. Floyd wasn't at all the type to pursue men normally, but something about the shape of this one, he wondered if it was perhaps one of those...liberal types, one of them on hormones that would have a vulva between their legs. Those also weren't his type normally, the hybrid having only ever been with women before now, but he was in a dry spell with his on-and-off relationship and he'd gone quite a while without some action, something unfamiliar to him ever since he'd made it big back in Texas in the rodeo.

He'd met a girl down in the largest state that he fell in love with, amidst the myriad of women he'd taken to bed in his success, that stood out different from the others. She and Floyd hit it off easily, and they dated, fell in love. She was everything he wanted, and he seemed to be the same for her. As a result, when she made it clear she was moving east, to Virginia, he did what any man in love would do and threw away his whole world for the girl, leaving behind his success and rodeo career to move across the country with her, hoping they would continue to settle down. Fate had other plans, though, and they would drift apart a few years after the move. She found love in other men, and Floyd found himself leaving the house they'd bought together and settling down somewhere in Lavender County, living alone, decorating his small home the best he could, all of it with the plan he'd return to Texas and have that big comeback every fallen star dreams of having. While here, though, he'd met Sienna, a gorgeous desert hare gal that brought with her a rocky relationship of good sex, fast times, fun and arguments. She was feisty and thrilling and had a quick wit to her, but she had a personality that frequently clashed with Floyd and resulted in slammed trailer doors and late night taillights peeling out of a driveway. In those off times, Floyd took whatever woman would have him to keep him warm, but apparently he'd fallen on hard enough times that he'd tossed around the idea of a man as well, assuring himself it had to be some sort of the parts he wanted, despite how generous the body hair was, and how angular the torso structure was.

RodeoRattler: nice pic, got any more? [8:17 PM]

This was followed by a picture of his erection sent at 8:19 PM, before Nico could even reply. It was a fairly pleasant piece he sported, Nico thought to himself as he opened it, somewhere between five or six inches, average in length and girth, a comfortable night that wouldn't leave him aching the next day. The fox had just gotten up to make himself a mixed drink--bottom shelf whiskey in sweet tea--and he was sipping it from a mason jar as he returned to his seat to reply, praising the stranger's dick and offering back photos of his own, awkwardly taken closeup shots of his vulva, finger spreading it open to a camera that was propped up, unknown to the receiver, on a toilet paper tube on the floor of the bathroom. Having a house full of family made it hard for the fox to take good nude photos, but Floyd received the photo well, it seemed, as Nico was given several more point-of-view shots of the hybrid's erection, all generally the same photo but clearly taken at different times.

The two would exchange awkward interactions of photos and salacious messaging for a while, both parties finding themselves progressively more excited, finally culminating in Floyd asking Nico his whereabouts.

"Mt. Pleasant Trailer Park. Can travel, though. You got rubbers?" the fox would type away before laying his phone back on his belly. A feeling was present in Nico, though, a feeling of which he was aware of but couldn't quite comprehend just yet. This stranger, though vague in his photos, felt familiar. Something about the color of his fur and beard and the cowboy aesthetic he clearly admired, it felt like someone Nico had seen before but had never met. It was one of those things, he thought, where he was clearly thinking so hard about it that he would never conjure the answer. He also assumed it was just his imagination, though, or perhaps adjacent to some drunk night he'd had at a bar years ago. Floyd, though, would open his eyes wide as he read the fox's location, sitting up in his seat, leaning forward as he held his phone between his legs, looking down at it with his elbows rested on his knees.

They lived in the same trailer park.

As Floyd realized that, recognition wires seemed to be connecting in his brain, particularly to that striking red fur the hookup's photos displayed.

"Wait," Floyd would type back, "are you the red fox in the corner lot? field behind the house? lots of kids?"

What started as sheer horror in Nico's chest upon opening the message would eventually bubble down into an equally surprised recognition, though not before him jumping so upright on the sofa he almost spilled his drink on himself. Their photos had been so non-specific, so focused in on select areas, that only after trading numerous pictures and talking eachother into a lusty frenzy had they both realized, almost at the same time: they were neighbors.

"Wait, do you live next door to me?" Nico would ask back.

"I think so." Floyd replied, suddenly aware of who he was talking to. He'd seen Nico countless times, almost every day, though only in passing. They both had their own lives, and though they were neighbors, they hadn't interacted more than seldom waves to one another. Floyd had only moved to the park about a year or two ago, and had been largely antisocial. Sometimes, when Sienna was in the picture, he'd attend the park-wide barbecues and get-togethers that would occur, but he tended to always be focused on her, never really mingling with the rest of the community. Nico, on the other hand, thought him to be the antisocial type, no interest in getting to know his neighbors, so he'd never pressed the issue. They had kept their respective distances until now, and Floyd was now realizing that the body that had been arousing him was the scraggly, smelly, half-toothed fox that lived next door with his family and gaggle of children.

Despite that, he didn't find his arousal waning.

Nico was much more undeterred, though, replying "didn't think you went for guys or i'd have said hello sooner. Love the cowboy thing you got goin on".

Floyd would answer "i dont go for guys. thought you were one of them girls that takes pills to be a guy."

"Nope," Nico replied, "just got a dealt a real weird hand when I was born". The fox always said he was born with it, to save the much longer and more bizarre explanation. The replies up until now had been quick, almost instantaneous, but after that, minutes passed. Nico worried this one wasn't going to work out after all.

Well, Floyd thought to himself, tonight was definitely going to go differently than expected if he pursued this. Not only would he be sleeping with what was unavoidably a man, but it was his neighbor, someone he'd have to look at almost every day, including when Sienna was back in the picture. Would it be weird? Would Nico rat him out? Would doing this make him gay? He found himself stressing, though still aroused, as he asked back "can this be DL?"

"After tonight, it never happened, if thats how you wanna do it" Nico replied. Down-low straight guys were a dime a dozen, especially with his anatomical setup. He was easy to hide, a "buddy" around anyone that saw them, bearded and visually bedraggled. His demeanor made him a favorite for men who didn't want to necessarily go for a full male but didn't want the risks involved with going for a woman, which is exactly why Floyd would sit back and scratch the soft skin of his belly as he read Nico's reply, seriously contemplating it.

"I got rubbers. You wanna come over?" he'd ask. The stage was set, all Nico had to do was agree. This was the hard part for the fox, though, who had to now crack the egg in Floyd's lap by replying "yeah but I charge. I'm outta work and doin this for money. That okay?"

Is that okay? Floyd asked it to himself out loud, almost offended he'd be asked that. He had to pay for sex? He'd never had to pay for sex before. As long as he could recall, he'd had women hanging off him, desperate to see if they get a ride out of him like they'd seen out in the ring. Here he was, though, being told he had to pay to get laid, and with a man nonetheless. He squinted and began to type a smart remark when Nico would reply again: "sorry. shouldve said that sooner. dont like doing it but i gotta pay my bills. Kids don't feed themselves".

Floyd was paused. It was hard to be mad at that, despite how it made him feel. He saw the fox's household on a daily basis, and he'd seen that it had only been on the mend in the past few years after Nico's grandfather had moved back home. Before that, the grass had been overgrowing, the yard was cluttered, the outside of the house was in moderate disrepair, neither Nico nor his father seeming to be in good financial shape. Floyd knew, because of his closeness, that the fox was probably telling the truth, and that he did indeed have numerous children to feed. If he'd truly lost his job, as it seemed he had, since he was home much more often now, he must've been down bad. Floyd was too, though in a far different way, which is why he would reply with "that's fine. How much?"

"$100. $150 for anal. Can go as long as you want." Nico was honest with his prices, though he didn't want to be. He wanted to kick this guy a discount, if for nothing else than to see if the cowboy hat and boots came into the bedroom with him. It was a fun thrill on his part, and as he laid there texting his neighbor, he could feel that he was excited. Before Floyd could even reply, Nico would dip his hands between his legs and take a photo of them, wet with his arousal, showing it to Floyd with the caption "hope you're down, you got me all excited."

It was hard to accept the price, but it was harder to turn it down when he saw how excited Nico was the thought of him. In Floyd's head, perhaps as a means of coping with the situation, this was more...an act of generosity. The fox clearly wanted him, and he wanted to offer up what financial support he had to a struggling father, though he tried hard not to imagine the word "father" or any other male terminology as he stepped away to check his wallet for cash. Finding about $85 and some loose change, he realized he didn't have enough cash on him, and would tell that honestly to the fox as he found himself, oddly, hoping that he could still get Nico to come over. Time had been hard for Floyd too, his factory work paying well but his home payments eating up a good chunk of them. He had cash in a savings tin in his closet, sure, but he refused to go that far. That money was for returning to Texas, and no woman was worth dipping into it, certainly no man.

"$85 is fine" Nico replied, much to Floyd's strange relief.

"Come on over then. Door's unlocked" the hybrid replied.

"Be over in like ten minutes" was Nico's reply, then silence. Floyd had a crushing ten minutes of reality to set in that he'd just agreed to hook up with a man, regardless of whatever was between his legs, and he was also blowing the last of his spending money until next payday on sex. He'd been a rodeo star with countless cameras in his face only a few years ago. How had he gotten here? And why didn't he find himself dreading this? His arousal hadn't subsided, if anything he was only more excited knowing within the hour he'd be getting laid again, and by someone so easy and close to him. Why didn't this bother him more? He didn't have time to think about it, though, as his train of thought was interrupted by his front door opening, and his neighbor entering with a loose-fitting t-shirt and pajama pants, shutting his door behind it and locking it as he gave an introductory "howdy" to Floyd, who gave back a short "hey".

"Funny t' finally see the inside of your place under these circumstances" the fox would say as he inspected the living space. It radiated, in the dim light of an endtable lamp, a nostalgic longing, an ache for a sense of home that this trailer just wasn't providing for the hybrid. Nico's eyes were pulled around the room by the decorations, the trophies, the remnants of the life Floyd had left behind, leading Nico to realize, "guess y' wasn't just playin' dress up after all..."

"Nope," Floyd began, "I was big in the rodeo back in Texas. Them awards is all real" the hybrid remarked, sitting back on his loveseat with his arms over the back of the cushions, his legs lazily spread.

"No kiddin'? Whattaya doin' here?" Nico would ask.

"Long story," Floyd said, one of his hands reaching to his face and pulling his long draconic whiskers, "women, mainly. Always have a way of puttin' me in situations I regret". Nico wondered if that had any relevance to the night they were about to have. He didn't want to press, though, instead making his way to the lasso tied up on the wall.

"This'n yours? Y' used it?" he asked. Floyd nodded.

"Maybe some time y' can bring your kids over and I'll show y'all some'a my rodeo tapes. Got a lot of 'em recorded." he said, Nico surprised to hear Floyd was already planning to see him again, even if under different circumstances.

"They'd love that" the fox would reply as his eyes wandered over to Floyd, who was still sitting with that open posture and distant look to his face, like he was thinking about things other than what they had planned to do tonight. Still, he was certainly dressed to go nowhere but a bedroom, his underwear and wifebeater both clearly well-loved and worn. His posture hadn't moved much other than to idly rub at his beard and whiskers. He seemed tense, definitely uncertain. Nico would approach him, sitting on the sofa next to him, and Floyd's position would shift, his arms lowering to rest with his hands on his stomach and lap, Nico taking a moment to look closely at Floyd's arms, at not only their muscle structure but his markings. Being part rattlesnake, he had a prominent pattern on his back that was only visible above the neckline of his shirt at the moment, but it trailed down the sides of his arms and thighs as well, tan and brown diamond patterns that were gorgeous to behold.

"I always thought those markings'a yours were so handsome. They look even better up close" Nico admitted. Floyd's expression opened with life a bit, his ears standing up and his restrained demeanor rose with a surprised look in his eyes.

"Yeah? You think so? Ladies used to talk about 'em a lot after shows. Think they were usin' it as an excuse to get t' touch my arms."

"It's a good excuse", Nico replied as he reached for Floyd, his hand brushing the diamond pattern in the short fur, brushing downward along the grain and feeling how soft the male's skin was overtop of dense muscle, the crests and valleys of his arms delectable to touch. What would start as gentle brushes with the fingertips moved to full petting, to light groping at the muscle as the fox added "y' just got real nice arms in general. I like a man with nice arms."

"You think those markings are nice, y' oughtta see my back." Floyd replied. Nico would roll his hand as an impatient gesture at Floyd as he said that, replying "well? don't just say that and then not show me!"

The hybrid would sit for a moment unresponsive, clearly thinking, then he'd give a short "hell, why not" as he sat forward on his sofa, leaning forward and reaching behind him, his fingertips digging until they found the bottom of his shirt, tugging it over his head and off him entirely. He wasn't exaggerating at all. Not only was his body exquistitely toned, but the pattern on his back was even more rich and vibrant than his arms. It looked like some sort of mosaic painting, dark brown diamonds lined with tan, warped slightly by the muscles of his back and adorned with tan vertical stripes running down from his armpits to the line of his underwear, possibly lower as well. Amidst those were smaller brown spots, like tiny diamonds, his entire back like a beautiful flame-stitch pattern blanket. Nico couldn't resist but to reach for it, to touch at the muscles near his shoulders before running palms down the patterning on his back. He could feel Floyd relax as he did, Nico's hands squeezing somewhere near his lat muscles, a whispered "wow" from the fox, prompting Floyd to ask "y' like it?"

"Yeah I like it. Never seen nothin' like it before..." Nico would say as he groped around curiously on Floyd's back, touching and squeezing at the muscles of a man toned by the rodeo and maintained by factory labor. His hands would move upward to shoulders, then move downward, to hips, and as his palms cupped the sharp line right where Floyd's pelvis would be, it would prompt the hybrid to pull away a bit, a hand reaching back to smack Nico's with a reprimanding "hey hey, none'a that."

Nico had taken a position on his knees on the sofa now, sitting behind Floyd who was diagonally sitting off the edge, and the fox would use that space between the hybrid and the back of his seat to scoot inward, knees splaying behind him as the fox's hands instead reached under Floyd's arms, both of the fox's calloused hands finding the dragon's bare chest, pressing at his stomach.

"Flex for me," Nico said, and the hybrid would oblige, abs rigid and palpable as the fox pet them, an inhale and exhale from behind Floyd clearly conveying he'd aroused the fox even more with that.

"Your core's most important in rodeo. Gotta be flexible, gotta be strong, there's a lotta fluidity to ridin' bronco." As Floyd said that, Nico scooted in a bit, and his hips were squished flat against the hybrid's lower back, the front of Nico's pajama pants warm but...definitely flat, which comforted Floyd a bit as he continued to chat. "Folks think y' gotta fight the buckin', gotta try t' overpower it, but y' don't. You can't. The real strength is in learnin' how to flow with it, how to control yourself so it moves you but don't throw you off. Sounds kinda gay and zen when I explain it but that's how it works."

"Nah, I get it. I bet you were so incredible t' see live, all gussied up and showin' off those skills to the crowd. What i'd give t' see it in person." Nico replied. He could tell by the way the waistband of Floyd's underwear was pulled that the hybrid had gotten hard, but he didn't want to ruin the conversation reaching downward too early. Instead he'd ask, before Floyd had a chance to ramble more, "can I touch it?"

"Yeah, go on" was all he needed, the fox reaching downward to find the tent in Floyd's pants, squeezing on it. It was as comfortable a feeling in the hand as it seemed in the pictures, not too big or small, and as he squeezed on it he'd tell Floyd "I wanna hear more, if y' wanna keep talkin' a bit longer." The mood was clearly ramping up, but Floyd was happy to talk and have his dick rubbed at the same time.

"Well, I got started when I was a boy, ridin' horses with daddy on the farm. I'd lived in Texas my whole life 'til I moved here, and I spent a lotta my teen years learnin' how to break bucks alongside farm work. Went for my first rodeo when I was 18. Did a shit job. Kept tryin', though. Got my first award at 19. It was all up from there. Started gettin' better, started gettin' paid, started really bein' known for who I was, yaknow? The thing about becomin' a star is that it's so quick lotsa times that you don't even realize it happened. I feel like the time between my rookie days and my fame was a blur, I woke up and suddenly all'a Texas knew my name. That's a damn big state t' have knowin' who you are, too."

"So what exactly did y' do in the rodeo?" Nico asked.

"Saddle bronc," Floyd started, already knowing to expect to be asked what that was, "s'different than bareback. It's an art and a sport. The horses are bigger and heavier, slower but stronger, y' learn to synchronize with 'em. Gotta keep one hand on the rein, one hand in the air, yer toes pointed out, spurs on the bronc. Sounds easy but it ain't. They score y' not only on your performance but the bronc's performance 'cause you got a big part in how he performs, and a lotta that's determined by how you--"

Floyd continued to talk while Nico continued to listen, and while the fox continued to idly stimulate the hybrid's erection through his underwear. Floyd was a strange one, seeming to be deeply focused on his tales of the rodeo even while being fondled. His story would continue for a good few minutes, even after he'd started to form a wet spot in the tent of his briefs, and as he finally had a lull in his story telling he'd punctuate it with "mercy that feels nice", finally acknowledging what Nico was doing.

"Want me t' get it out?" Nico asked.

"Nah," Floyd answered, "let's mosey on to th' bedroom, I got stuff t' show you."

As the hybrid said that, he'd stand up, freeing himself from the wrap of the fox and the hand between his legs. He'd walk with a tent in his underwear down the hall beside his loveseat, his house built similarly to many other single wide trailers, the living room having one hallway that lead to the master bedroom with a spare bedroom and bathroom to their left on the way. Even the hallway was decorated in western aesthetics, and Nico could only assume the other rooms were as well.

It was no surprise, then, when Floyd opened his bedroom door and entered to flick on a lamp, giving a warm yellow glow to a dimly let den of Texas ambience. Floyd kept his bed against the wall, something Nico also tended to do, and above the wall were large bull horns, a gorgeous decoration with a cowboy hat hung off one of the horns that Nico noticed immediately upon entering. Next to his bed was a nightstand, a lamp and a few small trinkets on the table. Several chests of drawers were also against the walls in the room, as well as a sliding door closet that was currently sitting partway open, showing off a generous amount of boots were kept inside. On the walls, along with the horns, were more trophies and decorations, a hanging Texas flag, a few other things. Every one of Floyd's rooms was decorated generously with the life he'd lived, and it dripped with his desire to escape.

On the inside of his door was a neon sign, one he'd remark "came from a bar down south", and he'd flick it on as it buzzed to life, being the only other light in the room beside the bedside lamp.

"That trophy on the dresser, s' my first trophy. Not my best, but my first, s'why I keep that one where I can see it and keep the fancy ones out in the main room. And this one, I got back--"

Floyd proceeded to run Nico through more of his achievements, beaming with a sense of nostalgic pride, the same pride the fox's grandpa had when talking about the war days, a sense of pride in something that's long since gone, the stories being one of the only ways they could relive the thrills and emotions they had in the moments those memories were made. The difference was, Floyd's was punctuated with constant "when I get back t' Texas, i'll--" and other statements. Despite standing there with what was now a half-stiffy, it seemed he got so involved in his talk of rodeos that he'd forgotten their plans, or so Nico thought at least.

"Those horns 'bove the bed came from a bull I wrangled on daddy's farm. When he died, daddy had 'em mounted for me." Floyd said, seeming to finally be on the last of his decorations.

"And the hat hangin' off the horn?" Nico asked.

"Well," Floyd cracked a grin, "sometimes the girls wanna wear a hat when they're doin' their own ridin' and i can't have 'em mussin' up mine."

The hybrid would put his hands on his hips and rather confidently swagger over to the fox as he nodded to him, remarking "speakin' of things I do in bed, how 'bout you lose them britches an' lemme see that pussy in person".

The Floyd standing before Nico felt like an entirely different Floyd than the one that had been sitting on the sofa when he'd arrived. Through text, he'd been rather forward, but in person, he'd become so reserved. When he was praised, though, admired, he'd opened up. Before Nico knew it, not only was Floyd rather confidently goading him to undress, but seemed to be getting a little cocky with it, the pop of his hips as he stood there just radiating a sense that he felt he was the hottest thing in the room.

"How 'bout you take 'em of yourself, cowboy? Treat me like y' treat those gals you let wear the hat?" the fox would confidently cut back.

"'Cause," Floyd started, "I still ain't totally convinced y' got a pussy and I ain't reachin' down there and grabbin' no cock."

Fair point. No other part of Nico sold that there was any sense of vulva between his legs, and as he rolled onto his back on Floyd's bed he'd draw his knees upward, thumb down his pajama pants--no underwear underneath--and Floyd would be greeted with the sight of Nico's sex, a clearly visible slit between scrawny legs, thick with body hair. Nico would lie back in bed and spread his legs a bit, use his fingers to spread open his sex and show it to Floyd, who approached the fox's body on his bed with an air of suspicion.

"S'real?" he'd ask.

"So real y' gotta wear a rubber 'less y' wanna make a baby on the first date." Nico replied. Floyd opened the nightstand at his side and fetched out a condom, tossing it on the top next to his lamp before his focus returned to the fox's loins. Floyd didn't say much at all, rather he'd thumb down his own briefs and reveal a stiffness between his legs once more and, without a word, he'd crawl onto the bed over Nico, their lithe bodies tangling up as he guided the fox to lay longways on the bed with him. No words were exchanged in the next few minutes, just actions, a series of explorations that would guide the two men into their respective positions. Seemed all the chatter about Texas could wait.

Floyd smelled like bourbon despite being sober, some sort of cologne he'd sprayed on his neck evident as he leaned downward and his whiskered snout would press kisses to the fox's neck. His hands groped the fox's bare chest, his flat, hairy pectorals, as many men's hands had done to Nico in the effort to imagine some sort of breast there, and as he laid kisses on the fox's neck he'd find his position, lined up between Nico's skinny legs and aimed to penetrate. What a tender man he was, Nico thought, as he slid bare into the fox with no warning, penetrating Nico with no discomfort, a comfortable size and girth to slide into the wet confines of the fox's body. His athletic shape was made useful by the rolls of his hips, his limber physique granting him fluid thrusts into the fox as he remained wordless, his hands abandoning the fantasy of breast and finding their way under Nico, hugging him as their bare chests pressed together, Floyd seemingly undeterred by the bristly nature of Nico's chest and stomach hair, the hybrid all too busy now teething at Nico's neck, planting love nibbles on the skin beneath red fur.

Nico was astounded by how passionate sex with Floyd was, what a romantic the hybrid became the moment he crawled on top of the fox. It was as if all his apprehensions about the male body were out the window once he was allowed to get into position. This point was usually clumsy for many men, awkward and sometimes uncomfortable as they penetrated without much thought as to how their partner felt, but Floyd was different. He was slow, tender, and his body moved with a rhythm that seemed to be hitting Nico's sweet spots in ways he'd long gone without. His body seemed trained to roll with the motions of another, Nico thought, and to say the feeling was incredible would've been an understatement.

Minutes passed, many minutes, the hybrid seeming to have a remarkable stamina that ebbed and flowed, speeding up and pushing Nico to his limits then easing off, leaving him almost whining for more. The condom was still not on, though, and as Floyd would edge Nico with his thrusts he'd find himself succumbing to his own lusty desires, thrilled by the feeling that the body below him was "his" for the night in both a financial and emotional sense. How much more thrilling, he thought in this lusty headspace, would it be to have it for many more years? Floyd had switched sides of Nico's neck now, sucking and kissing at him as a breathy tone huffed steamy desires in Nico's neck now.

"Maybe we should make a baby, yeah? Y' want that? Wanna make me a daddy?" the hybrid would ask in what was clearly a horny fervor, devoid of the prior rationale Nico had seen in him. Even in the throes of pleasure, the fox had to keep a level of composure for when men got to this point, for both their sakes. It had happened before, many times, and Nico had to pause his own pleasure to give men a reality check that, no, they didn't want to tie their lives to his, not on the first date at least, not less than an hour after meeting him.

"Yeah?" Nico'd ask, "y' wanna settle down in Virginia with me?"

This question, in that moment, seemed to breathe ration back into Floyd, who's snout remained attending to Nico's neck while a hand clumsily reached for the nightstand, finding the condom as he pulled back and tore it free from it's package, rolling it on before swiftly sliding back into Nico. No words, just understanding of the potential consequences of their indulgence as he continued that slow-to-fast-to-slow motions with his hips. At this point, though, he'd have Nico exactly where he wanted him, and not even a minute after applying the rubber, he could feel it. That hairy fox was moaning, low and rumbly, and he was clenching up tight. He was cumming hard, and Floyd reveled in the way it felt to get this scrawny body beneath him off so intensely. He'd toss out the slow rhythms of sex at that point and proceed to drill the fox, making sure the orgasm he gave Nico left the male spent and tired, trying to coax him to ride the wave into a second climax, something that he achieved rather easily.

Floyd wasn't far behind, and as Nico basked in the mind-numbing feeling of his second climax, he'd feel Floyd's body shiver, his last few thrusts hard and deep, threatening to jab into Nico's most intimate parts as that rubber was bloated with seed, needy seed that was meant to make both of them fathers but was finding itself trapped in the confines of the barrier between them. Floyd wanted so bad for it to break, thoughtless of what the results of that would be, though despite his wishes, it held firm. The two would end up a heaving, sweating mess on top of eachother shortly after, Floyd pulling free before rolling onto his side next to Nico, who rolled to face him. They didn't say much at all, mostly just holding eachother in the soaked moment they shared together. For the first time in many of Nico's hookups, the feeling in his stomach was more than sexual satisfaction. It was too soon to speak that to truth, though, and he'd hold it in his stomach as Floyd eventually passed him and stood, tossing the rubber in the trash bin by his bed before cleaning himself up.

"$100, right?" he'd ask as he tugged on his wifebeater once more, still bottomless as Nico laid there wanting to bask in the afterglow longer.

"$85 is fine, we already agreed to that" he'd say as his smile faded slightly, feeling as though he was about to be rushed out the door as he often was.

"Nah, you were worth the price. Plus it's for bills, I get it."

"Well," Nico spoke softly, "I had so much fun it feels wrong t' charge for it. I rarely get off, let alone twice."

"Thanks," Floyd replied, "but y' can't pay bills with good dick". The hybrid was now rummaging in his closet and pulled forth an old cookie tin. As he removed the lid, bills of money would attempt to spill out, and he managed to pull free a single $100 for the fox before sealing it and putting it back in his closet. Nico would sit up, finding his pajama pants and tugging them up as he asked "what's the tin for?"

"Savings, for goin' back home. I can dip into 'em once though. Next time i'll have a paycheck t' pay you with." Floyd said.

"Next time?" Nico asked.

"I get paid this comin' Wednesday. Can we do it again that night? Or next Thursday?" Floyd asked. Nico smiled. Post-sex clarity and still asking for more? That was a good sign.

Floyd and Nico hooked up the next four Thursdays in a row, every one of them more passionate than the one before. Conversations beforehand were more engaging, and Nico found himself allowed to stay progressively longer each time. Floyd was content to pay $100 a week, but the fox found himself unable to charge after the first session. This hadn't felt like business anymore, it felt like something more. Tros would have to handle the bills for a month or two, he thought.

It felt even stronger of "something more" when Floyd, after their fifth Thursday together, turned to Nico as they laid in bed together and asked him, "wanna see me ride a mechanical bull tomorrow?"

The question caught the fox off guard, causing him to snort a laugh suddenly, not out of disbelief for Floyd's abilities, but out of disbelief he was being asked to go out in public. Floyd, perceiving it as the former, would defensively cut back "or not, damn. Don't gotta laugh at me."

"No no," Nico was quick to insist, "I just ain't ever imagined you'd ask me t' go out with you. No guys I ever meet under these circumstances wanna make it more than what it is. S'nice. I'd love t' go out."

"Good," Floyd replied, upholding a defensive tone in his voice, as if he was still a bit unsure Nico was being sincere with him, "8 PM tomorrow, come to my place. We'll head out."

"Like a date?" the fox asked.

"Call it whatcha want" Floyd replied.

---

Friday night at the Bum Steer was always packed. A honky-tonk on a busy street in Loup Springs (one county north of Lavender), Bum Steer had some of the rowdiest crowds and the best drinks in town if you wanted a bar with some noise and action. Floyd parked his old 86 Bronco (which may or may not have been purchased with irony in mind) across the street, the best spot he could find, and stepped out of the truck to go and open the door for Nico, who hopped out and stood half-a-foot shorter than him beside him. The pair were dressed their best for the night, Floyd with his favorite hat, a striking blue and white western shirt adorned with a bolo tie, jeans flared to accentuate snakeskin boots, all centered with an illustrious championship belt buckle. He was the whole package, and next to him stood Nico, who'd gone out Friday morning and bought himself his own cowboy hat, already having the boots. A black shirt tucked into blue jeans was much less striking, but he worked well as an accessory to Floyd as the two strolled across the main road to the bar, where already Floyd was greeted by a few folks familiar with the hybrid.

The Bum Steer had a large amount of bright red and blue neon, framing the few windows it had and radiating the sign out into the foggy night air, and as the pair strolled up to the door, Nico would be asked for ID, the gruff looking rhinoceros at the door chipper and eager to pat Floyd on the back as a voice that sounded like road tar barked "Floyd, y' cold-blooded motherfucker! Good t' see ya!"

The bouncer barely looked at Nico's ID before waving him in behind the hybrid, who took in a view of his favorite bar in full swing. Nico was right behind him, having known about the Bum Steer but having never gotten into this county to check it out. A large bar with a lot of neon, the area before them was table and chairs with a stage behind it, for live music and line dancing. Beside them was more seating, and in the back corner was the bar. To the left, though, sitting currently unused, was a mechanical bull and that surrounding halo of inflatable plastic for the many that would tumble off of him tonight. Nico was staring at it as Floyd gave the fox a pat on the shoulder and a reassuring "easy, killer, we got time. Let's get some drinks."

Floyd didn't even seem to have to tap the bar to get the waitress's attention, a busty lynx with black crop top and Daisy Duke length jean shorts was already at his attention when he approached. Seemed he was a regular, Nico thought, as the hybrid leaned on the counter and made it obvious his gaze was right between the large naturals the lynx sported. Nico wasn't surprised, nor was he offended, as Floyd had neither confirmed or denied that this was any sort of date, so the fox didn't mind as the hybrid clearly oggled his waitress a bit before ordering he and Nico both mid-shelf whiskey and cola.

"Who's the guy?" the waitress asked as she filled the glasses with cola, eyes on Nico was what could have been perceived as curiousity, desire or amusement. Nico assumed the first, and hoped he was right.

"Buddy'a mine. Never been here before. Thought i'd show him what there is t' see, yaknow?" Floyd would remark, again making obvious where his eyes were focused. The lynx would wave her hand dismissively at him and smile, a playful "subtle, very charming" cooed as she slid two drinks his way, the hybrid trading her a twenty and telling her to keep the change.

Handing Nico his drink as they stepped away from the bar to find a seat together, a two-person small table with stools, the hybrid would ask the fox "didja SEE those things? She never gets old t' look at."

Nico mostly leaned toward men, but he wasn't opposed to a lady once in a while, and he did find himself admittedly gawking as well. He'd snort a laugh at Floyd and ask "what, y' wanna talk her into a threesome? where am I supposed t' go in that one?"

"Wherever you want man, there's no part'a her I wouldn't wanna play with" Floyd replied. The conversation would trail on idly as the two shifted from talking about the waitress and what they'd do with her to Floyd telling stories about the folks that passed by that he knew. It seemed, by how he talked, like this was a weekly thing for him, if not more often. Amidst the talk about his own life and time at the bar, though, Floyd was always quick to ask Nico about his life as well, and though he could get a bit of a one-track mind at times, he was obviously enjoying the fox's company. One drink lead to two, then two lead to three, and as they drank together they'd talk, and as they talked they found themselves sitting closer. Nico had been with enough closeted and "straight" men though to know never to make the first move publicly. If Floyd was going to treat this like a date, he'd have to be the first to make contact.

While that moment never came, four drinks would come and go and Floyd would make a bee line for the bull, Nico following behind and standing at the edge of the inflatable fence as the cowboy lost his boots and crawled onto the robotic beast, one hand on the saddle, one hand in the air, flashing a wink directly at Nico as an armadillo manning the machinery cranked it up to a moderate setting right away, seeming familiar with Floyd, who held on like it was nothing. Though he was jerked and tossed around by the mechanical bull, Nico could see that the hybrid kept his eyes on him whenever possible, like he was watching in particular for Nico's reactions, which were excited and boisterous, the fox cheering and hollering for Floyd as he held his composure atop the beast.

As it was eased up to it's highest setting, Floyd would last a good ten to fifteen seconds longer, which was apparently an impressive record, because the crowd was cheering for him as he rolled backwards off the beast and tumbled around on the inflatable mat around it, rolling to his composure before waving his hands out at the audience, his hands gesturing like he beckoned them to cheer more. Nico, of course, was the loudest among those, and as Floyd got his boots and hopped over the fence back to the fox, he'd ask "impress ya?"

"Impress me? Was one'a the most attractive things i've ever seen a man do." the fox replied, Floyd glancing around quickly to see if anyone heard Nico say that.

"So y' gonna hop on?" Floyd would ask, a nervous Nico shaking his head as he stammered out "o-oohhh no, no no, too much a crowd for me."

"Oh come on!" Floyd begged, nudging Nico and getting behind him, giving him a push toward the bull as the fox dug his heels, insisting against it. A bit more of a playful back-and-forth would finally have Floyd surrendering, seeming a bit disappointed the fox didn't have the guts to follow behind him. Nico could see this, and as Floyd was meandering his way to get more drinks, Nico would catch up to him and make an offer.

"How about this? I promise i'll ride it next time, AND," the fox would lean up close to Floyd's ear, "y' take me a little farther outta town and I'll show y' what else I can ride?"

"Right now?" an audibly excited Floyd would ask, Nico nodding in response. No time was wasted, their tabs were paid and Floyd was out the door with Nico following shortly behind. As the two hopped in the hybrid's bronco, Floyd would sit in the silence of the driver's seat without starting it as he thought to himself for a moment. The truck was facing the small amount of wooded area that separated the bar's overflow parking lot from the residential areas one street over, and with it now being well past 10 PM, it was dark, quiet on this side of the street.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Nico would ask to break the silence.

"I wanna..." Floyd began, a swallow of his spit as he impatiently tapped his fingers on his steering wheel for a moment, "...i wanna...go fuck y' in the woods right over there."

"The woods?! S'practically someone's back yard, Floyd!" Nico exclaimed incredulously.

"But it's late! And I just...damn. Iuno. I wanna feel like i'm markin' this spot as ours. Like every time I come here I can look over at the parkin' lot and I know we were screwin' right behind them trees. S'kinda hot, ain't it?" the hybrid asked. He had a good point. It was...very hot.

So that was exactly what they did, the two of them stealthily exiting the bronco and finding themselves stripping their pants off in the cover of trees, easily able to see someone's house nearby every time the headlights of a car cut through the trees just right. Nico had left his hat in the car, and as Nico took his position on the hybrid's lap, Floyd was more than happy to offer his hat to his fellow cowboy. It was the first time he'd let someone wear his favorite hat. Nico was worth it.

The fox never stayed the night with Floyd, but he understood why. They were still new to all this, and Floyd had never been with a man before. It was easy for Nico to come and go in the dark of night, and it easy to brush off their connection as friends at the bar, but it would be hard for the fox to wander back home, frizzy-haired and disheveled out Floyd's front door. Nico wanted it to be official, he wanted it to be public, but he also still wasn't entirely sure what he and Floyd were, exactly.

It was a Saturday morning after Nico and Floyd had had their third "date" at the bar the night before, and the fox was standing in the kitchen brewing coffee while the children played partially in the living room and partially outside. Behind him, though, the fox's grandfather would sleepily approach, wanting a cup of his own, exchanging "good morning"s and casual morning chitchat with his grandson.

"You been really gettin' to know that snake next door, I noticed." Tros eventually said, watching the coffee dribble into the pot next to Nico, both their gazes fixated on the slow trickle.

"He's a hybrid, part rattlesnake and part dragon." Nico replied.

"Yeah? That's quite a combo. Y'all dating now?" Tros asked.

"Not exactly. We ain't made it official yet."

"Y' prolly ain't made it official 'cause he's already got a girlfriend, polecat." Tros would reply. He'd always called Nico his 'polecat' since he was a child, and it always seemed to come out with Tros was being affectionate or saying something he knew was hard to hear.

"He ain't got a girlfriend right now, they broke up" Nico said as he head to the cabinets to pull down coffee cops for himself and Tros.

"And what happens when she shows back up? Y' know they're always on and off. Think she ain't never comin' back?" Tros asked.

"He ain't gonna leave me for her if she comes back." Nico said, pouring coffee for the two of them.

"I sure hope not. I just ain't had the best feeling about it. He don't never wanna come over and visit, he don't ever want you t' stay the night. Just don't wanna see you get your feelins' hurt if he pulls some dumb shit, yaknow?" Tros said all this as the old fox leaned himself against the counter.

"It's new for him. He ain't ever been with a man before. He'll come around. I just think he's havin' trouble gettin' used to the idea that he ain't with a lady."

"Well," Tros said after a long pause, taking his cup and heading for the front porch, "I really wanna be proven wrong, bud. Love you."

Nico spent the weekend at home, as he often did. The children were playing, Tros was relaxing on the sofa, and Nico had just stepped out of the shower, having freshened up only to spend the day playing with his kids and lounging about the house. Ganymede was, as per usual, out. Being unemployed, Nico's days were largely the same, and after a few hours of playing with his kids in and out of the house, he'd find himself sweating and reclined on the sofa with Tros near him, watching the television as it played some show they'd both seen before. It might have seemed boring, but it was exactly the life Nico wanted to live, peaceful and full of love, drinking sweet tea on a Saturday afternoon, the windows up and the sound of still-energized children running around in his back yard.

Nico and Tros would get to talking again, their conversation idle and largely uninteresting. Tros talked about how his past few days had gone, and how he was planning to go camping again soon. He invited Nico, who was more than happy to tag along as long as Buck could watch the kids again. It was something that had changed a lot in Nico's older years, he and Tros' connection. When Nico was born, his grandparents were very active in his life, always visiting, always eager to see him, especially after Fenne, Nico's mother, left the picture shortly after he was born and Ganymede was left to raise him alone.

A few years later, though, Tros' wife, Mairead (pronounced May-Reed, any other way and she'd brandish the palm of her hand at you), would pass away from a rather sudden and aggressive disease, leaving both the males of the Sionnach family without women, and both Ganymede and Nico without mothers. What should have been an opportunity for the family to come together, though, temporarily seemed to have driven a wedge between them. After Mairead's passing, Tros became rather reclusive, and his previously passing interest in the outdoors became his main focus, the Sionnach patriarch getting very into camping, often going for a week or more at a time. Though, when he was home, he still would visit Nico and Ganymede, he became far less available through the boy's adolescence than Nico would've liked. Despite that, Nico always thought fondly of him, especially as he began inviting the young fox to go camping with him as well.

Ganymede, on the other hand, turned from recreational drinking and the occasional partying to frequent consumption, going out on the town several nights a week, never seeming to bring them home but constantly returning home at four, five in the morning, sometimes staying all night with them. Ganymede's demeanor was always puerile and playful, never stern with Nico but never parental either. It was, to the young fox, often just like having an older friend living with him, an older friend that was always drinking and only home half the time, and never able to be the father figure he needed.

Nico's adolescence was frequented by in-and-out connection with the men around him, making it unsurprising his attachment to men as an adult was no different. It was why, though his father still wandered frequently, Nico loved nothing more than to have his grandfather living with him again, to build that familial bridge they'd been working on in bits and pieces throughout their lives, and to have his children have stable parental connections through the two of them, and their "uncle" Buck as well. Nico's maternal nature served will to balance the ratio of male presence in the children's lives, and the family's numerous female friends did the rest. The only void, the fox felt, was in his desire for romance, for a partner, a man with whom he could finally settle down.

"Y' really like him, huh?" Tros asked rather suddenly, breaking Nico out of a quiet introspection. Tros was relaxed into the fabric of the sofa, looking to Nico with his old eyes, slightly clouding from the start of cataracts. It was amazing his vision remained so consistent for so long, and his eyes always had such a warmth to them even enveloped by his sometimes stern, always wrinkled expression.

"Yeah. He reminds me a' Buck." Nico replied.

"Y' still ain't over Buck, huh?" Tros would ask, looking to the open front door, through the screen out into the yard, various other trailers easily visible from the closeness of home placement in their community.

"I ain't never gonna be over Buck. He's the best thing I ever had, but, yaknow...mistakes and all that" the younger fox trailed off while his grandfather nodded. Indeed, Nico didn't have a day go by where he didn't regret the way he'd so impulsively left Buck, so afraid of the stability of their relationship that he sought to destroy it before it surely destroyed itself. Nico ran off, and Buck found another man eventually, and it had caused Nico tremendous grief ever since. His only solace was their friendship, their remaining connection. Though they couldn't have the romantic love he so desperately desired, Buck was so excited that Nico was a father that he eagerly stepped in as the honorary "uncle". Buck loved children, having had one of his own decades ago but having lost her and his fiance during his time in prison, the two of them not wanting to wait to see him freed.

Nico felt that pain, in a sense, the pain of being left behind, no fault of anyone but yourself. We want so badly, he thought, to be able to make mistakes and have the world waiting in a stasis until we sort ourselves out, but it rarely does. Women and children, much like men, move on, and we have to restructure our lives without them. Nico's life finally had structure, he'd finally settled his head and his heart, but that void from Buck had never been filled. Floyd was coming close, but even then, nothing would've ever been exactly as it was.

"Well I hope this Floyd fella works out for ya, I really do." Tros would say, patting the sofa a few times before he stood up, informing Nico "i'm gonna go take me a midday nap."

Midday naps were common for Tros on the days he was at home, strange because he never seemed sleepy before he headed off to take them, and he was always full of fire and energy whenever he was out camping. Must've been the house, Nico thought, or the mental energy needed to keep up with the kids. Still, Nico knew better than to bother him, especially since he often locked his door, so he'd head out to the yard to keep the kids company while they played, having filled up their kiddie pool and gone to splashing around in it. The day, otherwise, was uneventful.

-

It was a monday evening, when the whole family was at home, that Nico would get a text from Floyd asking him if he wanted to go out. On a monday, he thought? They'd only been going out on Friday nights, sometimes Saturdays.

"Kids bedtime is 9 PM. lemme get em settled then we can go. Be ready at 9:30." Nico texted to the hybrid next door, Floyd already in the process of showering as he got the reply message, certain Nico would want to go out regardless of the day.

Tonight's destination wasn't the Bum Steer, though, Nico would find out as he sat passenger to Floyd as they drove down the road. They were going somewhere new, Floyd told him, a dive he'd been once or twice but never with the fox.

"Ain't goin' to Grimbards, are we? I can't go there," Nico remarked.

"Hell no we ain't--the hell you think i'd be goin' to Grimbards for? T' get shot?" Floyd would cut back with an incredulous scoff and a laugh. Lavender County and the surrounding counties had countless bars and restaurants, many of them with their own reputations. The Bum Steer was one of the "big" ones, heavy on the honky-tonk atmosphere and the best place in town to line dance. Colt's Place was a dive that was known for being friendly to the feral population, and often where those with...eccentric tastes in partners would go. Grimbards was a seedy dive on the outskirts of Lavender, near the Soutail county line. From the outside, it appeared as any other dive did, largely plain exterior with a letter board near the road touting various information like karaoke on Sundays and Wednesdays, cheap wings on Thursday and "date night" every other Friday. It was the kind of place where the bar's sign was just it's name with a cola company logo on both sides of it, straightforward and simple. It was known, though, for being the favorite hangout for the area's prominent 1% biker gang, the Southern Cross Knights, or "the Knights", and was absolutely not somewhere you went with any intentions other than to drink, eat, and go home.

Another dive, far less seedy, though, was City Limits, a rural dive bar that sat at the intersection of some old country roads, mainly meant for those who want to party stealthily and drive home without much police presence. Ironically, it was nowhere near the city, but it was exactly where the pair were heading as Floyd's bronco hit the main road. The bar's owner, Curtis Dundalk, was an elderly wolf that hobbled around on crutches and mainly was there to socialize, paying his staff well while he used the bar to get fill his desire for socializing. He had been a vagrant for much of his life, and had wandered into town decades earlier, using veteran's disability income to get himself a little home and eventually an abandoned bar that a few local folks--Nico included--had helped get rebuilt. Despite that, Nico rarely made it to this part of town, mainly because he and Curtis had had a bit of history together that felt awkward now, but also because he typically drank at home and only went to bars nowadays when he was working, and the clientele was scarce in the area.

Floyd would park the bronco in the uncrowded parking lot and open the door for Nico, as he always did, and as the fox stepped out and the two approached the bar, Floyd would put an arm around Nico, pulling him in close to where their bodies were touching.

"Just felt like tonight was a nice night for a date," Floyd said with a smile Nico could see on the side of the hybrid's face as they opened the door to a quiet bar with four, maybe five other patrons currently inside. The bar was simply designed, a long bar counter to the right, booths to the left, some tables and chairs and pool tables in the back. There was classic country music playing on a jukebox somewhere off in the back area, the building otherwise quiet. Two older men were at the bar itself drinking, one of them an elderly daylong drinker and the other seeming to be a man fresh off work, still wearing a road work vest over his dirty clothes. There were a few others in the back of the bar, chatting loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to understand what they were saying. Despite it's simplicity, City Limits was a cozy bar, one of those where everyone knows your name if you're regular there, or if you helped rebuild it and slept with the owner several times, the latter causing a bespectacled old wolf wearing a faded camo hat and dirty clothes to call out a raspy "NICO" from behind the counter as he hobbled on his crutches to the bar, leaning over it and calling out "get back here and gimme a hug!"

"Didn't take you as a regular," Floyd would remark as the fox parted from his hold to come around behind the bar, as he and few others were allowed to do, to pull the frail old wolf into a hug as they exchanged catching up banter, Floyd noticing that Nico was pointing at him, which prompted the hybrid to approach the bar, near the two patrons drinking.

"This is my...boyfriend, Floyd." Nico said, that particular word feeling strange on the tongue but right to say. Floyd HAD said it was a date, after all, so Nico assumed the best.

"BOYfriend, eh? Well, good for you, Nico. It's about time you settled down." Curtis would say as he looked over to Floyd, who was now bright red in the face from the word "boyfriend" having not only been used to describe him but barked out loud to the handful of patrons in the bar. Still, he'd smile and tip his hat a bit, the hybrid trying to not show that he'd grown quite bashful after that sort of attention was brought to him.

Nico was eventually with Floyd back on his side of the bar, explaining--sparing no details about he and Curtis' history--how he knew the old wolf. Despite Floyd's anxieties, few eyes seemed to be on him and his apparent boyfriend, and he found himself able to relax and hear the story Nico was telling. A rather rugged looking female, a red fox at that, approached the table with two shots of whiskey for the pair, her smoker's voice informing them "on the house, from Curtis".

Four or five shots and two mixed drinks later, all of them generously poured, Nico and Floyd were both feeling quite intoxicated and comfortable, neither of them aware of how several more patrons had entered the bar since they'd arrived, the crowd now at about 15 people. It wasn't all that unusual, seeing as Monday was karaoke night at City Limits, and as the crowd began to grow, Floyd seemed as unbothered by the audience as Nico did. The music had since shifted from a quiet jukebox to a boisterous background audio, and every few minutes someone else was belting out their best musical talents to an audience of folks not much better than them. The bar had grown hazy with cheap cigarette smoke and Nico had just returned to his seat with two mixed drinks for he and Floyd, both of them generous on the liquor thanks to good old Curtis.

"Let's go out again, this friday," Floyd said, taking long swigs of his cocktail like there was no liquor in it, "I wanna see y' ride the bull."

Nico was also drinking quick, trying to keep up with Floyd, having matched him shot for shot up until now, the fox thankfully a bit more resistant to the power of liquor than Floyd was, and he'd remark "yeah? Bet I can beat yer time."

"You think? I'd like t' see that, see how you can handle the ride. Maybe one day i'll letcha on a real horse. Take y' down to Texas and make y' a real farm boy, see how y' look sweatin' out in that deep southern sun."

It was clear Floyd was flirting with Nico, as strange as those lines were, and it was working. Nico's brow would furrow with amusement, the fox polishing off his drink quickly as he asked "yeah? y' wanna see me sweatin' and dirty?"

"Yeah," a moderately drunken Floyd would admit, "I betcha y'd look good in some chaps, nothin' on underneath 'em. Work y' til you're all loose and sweaty then push y' down in that red dirt and rail ya."

The hybrid had a lusty smile on his face, leaning forward with his arms crossed on the table. It was quite unusual how forward he was being, but it was also the drunkest he'd been since the two had started hanging out together. Nico was more than receptive to it, though he also was quite aware of how the liquor was making it's way through his body, and he'd humor Floyd in a bit more dirty talk before breaking the moment with "I gotta piss."

As the fox got up to find the restroom, though, he'd find that the men's room was out of service, a taped sign on the door that says "port-a-potty round back for now, sorry". Nico huffed frustrated to himself. Surely that was no issue for most men who had to piss, but having to sit down in a port-a-potty had to be one of his least favorite experiences of all time. Nothing ever made that any less gross, and as he walked past the pool tables out the back door, onto the gravel and into the night air, he did indeed see a blue portable toilet next to the dumpster, far back away from the building, near where the woods began. Floyd saw Nico exit out the back door and rose up confused, catching the waittress with a "be right back" as he head out after the fox, who was already drunkenly squatting with his feet on both sides of the toilet bowl, squatting to piss with his hands on the toilet door for bracing. Lucky for the others that would have sit-down visits in there later that night, he had good aim.

After cleaning and exiting, he'd find Floyd standing outside, waiting for him, the hybrid approaching as Nico asked "what? y' ready t' leave?"

"Nah, thought y' were runnin' off or somethin'!" the hybrid explained.

"Nope, men's room's outta order. Had t' come out here."

Unimportant banter was exchanged as Nico used the moment to have a cigarette and enjoy the night air, Floyd hanging close to him, unusually close for Floyd's personality. As the fox pulled smoke from a Chattanooga Red 100 and exhaled it into the night sky, he'd look to Floyd and grin, a slick grin that showed off his yellow teeth.

"Boyfriends, huh?" Nico would ask. Floyd offered back a shy smile, lifting his hat and brushing back his sweaty hair as he gave a short "reckon so".

"Ain't imagine y' were gonna ever call me that", the fox would say.

"You said it first, I ain't gonna deny it!" Floyd replied.

The fox snickered and pulled more from his cigarette, Floyd closing the distance, coming up to Nico and standing face to face with him, taking the cigarette from the fox's mouth and tossing it in the gravel, his hands rising to Nico's face as he, without warning, leaned forward and kissed him, tongue first like the romantic he was. The tobacco in Nico's mouth was the only thing that tasted different between them, the bourbon flavor thick on both their tongues as they met mouths, Floyd walking Nico a few steps backward until his back was against the dumpster.

Ironically, it was the first time the two had actually shared any sort of kiss or any sort of romance beyond occasional cuddling in Floyd's bed after sex. Floyd kissed like he knew what he was doing, though, the man's hands passionate as the squeezed the fox's face before sliding down the frail curves of his neck and shoulders, eventually finding Nico's waist and squeezing it, pushing their bodies together. Floyd was excited, Nico could feel it, and as they drunkenly swapped spit it was clear by the way Floyd's hands were moving that he was intending to undress Nico and fuck him right there, the fox finally having to pause the kiss with a whispered "n-ooo no, no no not here."

"In the bathroom then," Floyd whispered.

"Now? In that gross thing?" Nico asked, half dazed by how intense the kissing was but half confused by Floyd's brazen disregard for them being out in the open.

"Yeah, yeah I want y' bad. Right now." the hybrid practically begged as he leaned in and sucked at Nico's neck, his serpentine teeth grazing Nico's neck, thankfully evolved to be devoid of venom as they applied pressure, his tongue lapping the sweaty, salty taste on Nico's skin below his fur.

"No, y' gotta hold it. We'll find a spot on the drive home. Kiss me more, though, more'a that."

Nico's wish was granted by a huffy, frustrated Floyd who was desperate but was no brute, his hands on the fox's face again as the two returned to that passionate entanglement of tongues and body grinding in the warm night air. Nico couldn't deny, legality aside...he wanted Floyd right there as bad as Floyd wanted him. Maybe even more.

The kissing would continue for quite some time, the two of them pressing bodies desperately together as if they were both just hoping the clothes between them would give way and cease denying them the closeness the two wanted. Both of them were entirely unaware the back door had opened several times, the only event remotely known to them being the one instance where someone else went to piss, because they heard it near them as they went about their intimacy, undeterred by the sound that was followed by silence. The next sound that followed in the bathroom, though, was far more distracting, as it seemed that taking a leak didn't save the poor soul inside, who'd shifted to tossing up whatever his last few drinks were. Try as they might, kissing next to the sound of some stranger puking was a little too hard, and as he retched, Floyd would whisper "guess that's our cue t' exit stage left, eh?"

The two returned inside to the sound of karaoke and the smell of smoke, the clacking of pool balls and the general disinterest of the growing crowd, most of them too focused on watching karaoke or trying to hook up with one another to notice the two men walking together. One person, though, happened to notice. As the pair returned to their seats, a voice occupying a previously empty bar seat would ask "Floyd?", prompting the hybrid to turn and see a familiar face.

In one of the bar stools was sitting a rather bizarre male, a male that Nico had seen in bars before but had never engaged with directly. He was a pink, furless...creature of some sort. He almost looked like a bald domestic dog of some sort, but the ears were too long, the snout was strange and long as well, and his teeth jutted out from his jawline like he'd been punched but not hard enough to knock them out entirely. He looked like if a crocodile somehow had an affair with raw chicken and their offspring grew a mullet and goatee only, covered himself in nautical tattoos, and he sat at the bar stool with yellow-sclera eyes and beady pupils, dressed in an open hawaiian shirt and bucket hat, blue jeans. He had body hair, it was on full display from his chest down to his beer belly thanks to the unbuttoned button-up shirt, and as he swiveled in his bar stool, a voice that was somewhat nasally but raspy as hell would ask "the hell y' been doin', Floyd? Been a while since I saw ya."

Floyd, drunk enough to not realize being recognized wasn't his intention tonight, would cut back "been here Merle, you're the one's always leavin' town."

"Yeah! But I been back for, like, three days and I ain't seen you at the usual spots." Merle said, already heading over and taking a seat next to Nico, pretty much scooting him into the booth. Merle smelled like armpit sweat and sun tan lotion, and he was...oily. Must've been the lack of fur. His elbows were already on the table.

Floyd waved the bartender over, asking the fox for three more shots, this time double shots. Cheap whiskey. Only a moment later, she'd arrive with them in hand, chilled shot glasses handed to the three of them as Merle looked up to her, grinning his gnarly grin as he complimented her on her outfit, a normal black graphic t-shirt and blue jeans, neither revealing nor all that flattering.

"Thanks, sugar, y' always are so good t' me" the fox chirped in that gravely smoker's voice as she rubbed the top of Merle's head through his hat, heading off as the albino hybrid leaned in and whispered "she wants t' fuck me so bad. Been keepin' her at arm's length but I might go for it."

"Thought y' already did?" Floyd asked. It was actually...somewhat common knowledge that Merle had gotten with her a few times.

"HELL no," Merle denied, "not yet at least! Y' know how foxes are, they're like...sex crazy and they'll steal from ya and they poke holes in rubbers so y' gotta have babies with 'em, and--"

Merle would pause and look to Nico, wagging his hand sideways and offering a short "sorry. no offense or nothin'. Anyway, Floyd, brother, where ya been?"

"Here, man, right here," Floyd said before tossing back his double shot, all at once. Nico knew without a doubt in his mind that that would push Floyd over the edge, and he was either going to puke or get sick before the night was done. That said, the fox followed, and Merle after him, and as Floyd shook the liquor burn from his face he'd say "I been seein' this fucker over here" as he nodded to Nico.

Merle would jerk his head over to the fox so fast it seemed like his eyes would spin a full 360 degrees in his head from the breakneck speed, those yellow peepers popping out his head as he asked "A GUY?" at Nico, who was leaning back in his seat and offered a shrug in response.

"Yeah," Floyd continued, "we hit it off real good. Plus, he's only like half a guy. He's got the right parts down there." the hybrid slurred that last sentence out and Nico responded with a sudden shock, cutting his eyes around as he sarcastically asked "Floyd?? Y' think maybe you done had too much t' drink?"

"Yeah, what's he mean by that?" Merle would ask, Floyd beginning to speak before Nico would interrupt, looking directly at Floyd as he insisted "Iuno what he's talkin' about, he's done gotten himself trashed". Floyd seemed, despite his intoxication, to understand that he'd almost said too much, and a rather embarrassed grin would creep up his face that was too infectious to not have Nico smiling as well. It was clear he really did mean well with what he wanted to say, but it was also a secret Nico kept the best he could, and it was going surprisingly well despite his history with men.

"Whatever. How'd Sienna take it?" Merle would change the subject, and Floyd would look off to the side.

"Floyd?" Merle asked. "Does Sienna know?"

"She and I ain't a thing no more, so she got no business knowin' what i'm doin' with my life." Floyd replied. Merle, first looking surprised, would quickly ask "so she's single!?"

"Yeah, have at 'er tiger," Floyd would reply, flashing Merle a wink.

Merle would sit back in his seat with a "hot damn" spoken more to himself than to his table, following it with "still can't believe you done got with a guy. Never woulda guessed that outta you with how easy y' bag ladies."

It was clear that the repeated attention brought to Floyd's relationship with a man was getting to him, even amidst his drunkenness, as he'd gotten less conversational, more detached, constantly looking off to the side away from Nico and Merle, who was becoming background noise, continuing to ramble about the days he'd known Floyd to have a girl on each arm. It was true. Floyd had been a ladies man before he came to Virginia, and that hadn't changed yet. It was an odd desperation that had had him cross paths with Nico, and though he did seem to be thoroughly enjoying it, it was very out of character for him.

Merle hung around a little too long and talked a little too much, but as the crowd continued to grow, he'd find himself slinking off to talk to a woman who's boyfriend was in the bathroom, wasting no time in taking his seat and asking her open-ended questions to trap her into conversation. Once the two of them were alone again, Floyd would crane his head over to Nico slowly and smile at him, a droopy smile that said that last shot probably hadn't been necessary. He was drunk, and that was probably only going to become more evident in the next hour. Nico was no better, though, neither of them in any shape to drive, and yet twenty or so minutes later Nico was behind the while, driving an intoxicated Floyd home the best he could. It was one of Nico's odd skills, one that he found out purely by accident after having that last drink a little too late in the night: he was surprisingly great at driving drunk. He didn't make a habit of it, though, and hadn't done it for years since the kids were born. Desperate times, though, called for desperate measures, which is why Nico was focused on the road while Floyd was laying with his head on the door, window down, the air in his face as he groaned "not feelin' so hot".

"You'll be fine." Nico replied in the most reassuring tone he could muster at this moment.

But Floyd, in fact, was not fine, and it wasn't another mile or so down the road before the fox was pulled off on a gravel side shoulder, near where the creek ran close to the road. During summer, it was a place to park and fish, and at the end of the month it was a place cops would sit and catch speeders and drunk drivers. Thankfully, it was the middle of the month.

Floyd was leaned up against his bronco puking up the last several drinks near the tire while Nico stood outside with him, morbid curiosity getting the best of him as he watched Floyd retch, the fox smoking a cigarette to mask the smell of liquor on his breath as he asked "what, y' not drink this much usually?"

"No" was barely able to be spoken before Floyd belched up again, hot whiskey, coke and stomach acid on the gravel before the hybrid added "not in a while at least."

"What changed?"

"Jus' wasn't watchin' my drinking. Had a lot on my m--"

Another cocktail wasted on the side of the road.

"Had a lot on my mind."

"Like what?" Nico asked.

"I think i'm love with you" Floyd replied, managing not to punctuate that sentence with any more interruptions. Nico's hands were in his pockets, his cigarette hanging off his lips as he asked a surprised "huh?"

"I think I love you," Floyd reiterated, "and that's hard for me t' handle."

The hybrid's arms were shaking as he held himself braced against the bronco, still looking down at the mess he'd made on the ground, remaining still to try to keep down the rest of his stomach. As he realized he had a moment, he'd stand up, moving to the truck to sit in the passenger seat, continuing his thought.

"When we first started hookin' up I thought you were just gonna be filler 'til Sienna got back. I think y' knew that well as I did. But the more we been hangin' out, the more I've been feelin' different about you."

Floyd was right. Nico knew that he was just filler when he was first called over, and he had no idea they'd be where they are now. He'd gotten attached first, of course, as he always did, but he never would've guessed Floyd would've come to feel the same about him. The outside air was so quiet where they were, a car having yet to pass by them. It was too late. The folks in this part of town were all at home, settled in their beds, save for the drunks and Floyd and Nico, who were listening to crickets amidst their conversation, the outside world so quiet between their words that Nico could hear the crackling of his Chattanooga cigarette as he pulled another puff from it.

"It's hard, though," Floyd continued, "havin' these feelings for a guy. It's really hard. I ain't never even looked at a guy and thought nothin' like I think about you. And I love you, I think I really do, but I don't like bein' seen as gay or bi-sexual or whatever y' wanna call me."

Nico listened without much reaction, save for drags of his cigarette that would briefly cast that warm glow on his face, a glow Floyd was missing as he sat sideways in the passenger seat, looking down at his boots.

"I had this big life back in Texas and I threw it all away for a woman, and now i'm here with nothin'. I ain't got enough money to go back home, I live in a single wide trailer when my face used t' be on billboards. I was so desperate I paid for sex, and then I fall in love with him! It's just so...fuckin'...pathetic."

Ouch.

"But that don't change how I feel about you. I just feel so bad about myself, Nico, and the way Merle talked about me bein' with a man tonight was exactly what I was worried 'bout. It didn't seem normal t' him, and he talked about it like it's just another example of how far i've fallen."

The fox's cigarette had died out, and he'd flick it off somewhere in the gravel before walking over to the bronco, leaning his back against it, next to Floyd, looking out toward the wooded area near them.

"Is it normal t' you, though?" Nico asked, a specific answer in mind.

"No," Floyd replied, not at all the answer Nico was hoping for, "it's weird t' me."

"You think you'd still wanna be with me if I had a dick?" he'd ask.

"I don't know," Floyd replied, "I really like you but I don't know if I woulda gone for you if y' ain't had whatcha have. And I sure wouldn't ever wanna do nothin' like that with any other man."

"Maybe it's just some sort'a weird phase you're havin'" Nico offered, hard to imagine but likely the scenario. A good bit of his clients, and even his younger flings, were one-or-two time scenarios that eventually figured themselves out. Floyd, as fun as he was, seemed no different.

"But I love you! I wanna do more than just have sex. I wanna kiss ya and take you out on dates and sit around talkin' and I...I think about like...what life would be like years from now, when we're back in Texas together."

Together, Nico thought about that word as it left Floyd's mouth. He'd mentioned it before, more as a suggestion or a joke, but Nico had never had any inkling of an idea of going to Texas with Floyd, or ever leaving the state for anyone. Now wasn't the time to mention that, though, he thought, but he was surprised to hear Floyd had already been planning that so seriously.

"Well, I love you too. A lot. But I don't have an answer for your worries."

"I figured y' didn't."

The fox would look over to Floyd and extend a hand, placing it on his knee.

"It doesn't have t' be a thing until you're ready for it to be, though. I ain't gonna stop loving you if you don't figure yourself out quick enough. If you end up wantin' it to be official, it can be official, but if you end up realizing this was just a phase and you can't do it, well, i'll be awful sad but that day can come if it needs to come. Just be honest with me, tell me what it is and I'll follow your lead."

Floyd's downward gaze would look to Nico, asking an almost pathetic sounding "really?"

"Really."

Nico eventually got the two of them home, somewhere around 4 in the morning. Floyd had work the next day, and as he sleepily set his alarm for only a few hours from then, he'd look to Nico, who was standing in his doorframe and ask "maybe...this friday, after we go out...y' can stay over here?"

"You want that?"

"I think I do."

"Ask me again when you're not still drunk, okay?" Nico smirked to Floyd.

Nico knew better than to take to heart anything someone said when they were drunk. He was guilty of it himself, of idealistic honesty and optimism about futures that would likely never manifest. He quietly walked himself back home, sneaking into the house and curling up under blankets on the sofa. The kids would be up in only a few hours, he thought, and tomorrow would bring with it clarity.

---

Several weeks of mundanity passed, interrupted only by moments of unsubstantial events. Thursdays still found Nico at Floyd's house, and Friday nights still found the two of them at the Bum Steer. Nico had indeed stayed the night at Floyd's twice over the past few weeks, on nights when Buck wanted the kids. Floyd had even come over for dinner at the Sionnach household at one point, meeting the kids and Tros. Ganymede, Nico's father, had moved out nearby with a man he'd taken to dating, a move no one really saw coming but Ganymede was home so rarely that it didn't feel much different once he was formally out of the house. Tros got his old bedroom and Nico kept the sofa. Floyd enjoyed the family, though, and found himself still talking about "us and the kids" when he'd talk about his life. The pair had since gone out to City Limits once more on a weekday night, though neither of them got as drunk as before, and before they knew it, two months had passed since their first date.

It was the Friday after their unofficial "two month", and they were on their way to the Bum Steer for their usual Friday nights, finding their way inside dressed as they often did, aesthetically similar and clearly meant to be some sort of pair, evidently more than friends. Floyd was never handsy with Nico at the Steer, though, not at all like he was at City Limits. He didn't kiss him or hold his hand or sit too close to him, though they did often dance together. It was evident to those that knew Floyd as a regular, though, that something was different about him. He'd gone from never being around men to always having one in particular by his side. Floyd, though, was unaware of the speculations being made about him.

The pair had just taken their seats after finishing up a line dance with many of the other patrons of the bar, Floyd patting Nico on the back as a bashful fox hid his face with his glass and downed whiskey as the hybrid barked "y' been gettin' better every week! Good for you!"

Indeed, they had gone out one Tuesday for line dancing lessons at the bar, and had since been testing it out on their Friday night "dates", and Nico had gotten himself a bit of a knack for it, though he was sweating underneath his cowboy hat as he remarked "i still ain't got nothin' on you."

"Well, I had a few more years'a experience down south 'fore I came here, but you're holdin' your own just fine!" the hybrid said, a big grin on his face as he scooted his chair a bit closer to Nico, clearly proud of his partner. He'd not only gotten Nico dancing, but he'd gotten him socializing, neither of them seeming to refer to eachother as "boyfriend" but the pair having casually chatted with other bar patrons before and after songs.

It was in a lull between conversations, between dances, in the quiet moment when Nico was sitting with his elbows on the table and his eyes looking to Floyd as he heard a voice he'd only heard in passing behind him, a voice that caught every part of the hybrid's attention, Floyd looking up to hear his full name called from just behind the fox, the woman carrying the voice approaching.

"Floyd Autry, you scamp!"

Nico turned to see her, one of the most beautiful gals in Lavender County: Sienna Cline, Floyd's ex-girlfriend. A desert hare with a body made for modeling, Sienna didn't often linger in the same spaces Nico did, preferring the louder and more boisterous bars like the Bum Steer where she could dance and drink and cut loose, a man's arm often wrapped around her. Sienna was one of those women who truly took no effort to pull eyes from all across the bar, a bright natural blonde with brown facial markings around her eyes giving her a naturally smoky appearance, her fur a peachy tan mixed with sand, colors like an Arizona horizon. She was lithe, her shorts were high, and she sported turquoise around her neck and on her belt buckle, a loose-fitting classic country shirt tucked into those shorts. She wore brown boots polished pretty with a matching brown stetson hat and a smile that could pull a wedding ring right off damn near any man's finger, and she strutted with an effortless appeal around the right side of the fox to their table, where she'd tousle Floyd's own hat on his head a bit as she remarked "aren't you lookin' right as rain!" before her focus would turn to Nico.

"Sienna Cline, pleasure t' meetcha" she'd say, offering her hand to Nico, who did the gentlemanly thing to do and stood to greet her, shaking her hand as well as he replied his name, "Nico Sionnach. Pleasure."

"Sionnach! I know that name. Yer daddy runs Jupiter Motors, right? I always get my oil changed there." Sienna would remark with a pleasant smile. Everything about her was gorgeous, and her tone was so sincere sounding. Nico felt bashful in her presence, unsure if it was insecurity or attraction that had him feeling that way. This is who's place he was filling in Floyd's life? Sienna, with her glowing personality, honey-sweet cadence to her voice, and dainty limbs meant to be wrapped around the torso of a stronger man? He could hardly focus on the way Floyd had stiffened up in his seat, pulling heavy sips from his whiskey and cola until the straw made audible struggles to pull the last of the watered liquor from the bottom of the glass.

"Yeah, s'my daddy. You prolly seen him sittin' around watchin' other guys work. I don't take much after him other than our fur color, he's built like a fridge." Nico replied.

"Right! I know him. Small world! He's a nice guy, always gives me a discount when I'm there." Sienna replied. She didn't have to say that, Nico already knew. Ganymede always gave pretty girls discounts, and he'd normally say something cheesy like "oh, lookie here, we're doin' 20% on oil changes for girls with the purdiest eyes I ever did see". In fact, Sienna's eyes were so rich and green that Ganymede had probably used that exact line. Nico couldn't blame him on this one, though, he'd go for it too if he were Ganymede. or Floyd. or anyone, really.

"He's got his moments. He's a nice guy so long as y' don't ever need him t' pay his bills on time or pick his clothes up off the floor" Nico remarked.

"Oh, well that's just a normal man sugar, that's hardwired into all of 'em," Sienna smirked, "y'all are born with a reflex t' throw things on the floor."

Nico snickered as Floyd tried to reinsert himself into the conversation by asking Sienna "what're you doin' out here on your lonesome tonight?"

"Oh, I ain't here alone, I'm with Tanner Lawrence. He's outside talkin' to his boss about somethin'." she replied.

"Tanner Lawrence the cop!?" Floyd asked, dumbstruck.

"Yep! Pulled me over doin' 60 in a 45 and let me off with a warnin' under the stipulation I went out on a date with him. We've been at it for 'bout a month now" Sienna answered.

"They ain't never let me off with no warnin' like that before" Nico would mumble.

"The beard might be a hard sell for 'em tiger," Sienna answered, patting him on the shoulder.

"I ain't expect to see you endin' up with a cop" Floyd would lean back and spin the watery ice around in his glass as he thought to himself if he was going to get another or not.

"Well I ain't ever expect t' see you endin' up with a man, but strange things do tend t' happen" Sienna would remark. God, nothing seemed wrong with her at all, Nico thought. What could have possibly made them break up? Nico was so wrapped up in wondering what her toxic traits could've possibly been that it didn't even occur to him that she'd said anything that would embarrass Floyd. The hybrid, however, was hot in the face, looking now toward the door. He was, plain as day, with a man, but it seemed very hard for him to hear that.

"Nico," Floyd would ask, "go get us more drinks, eh?"

The fox was happy to do it, especially since Floyd seemed like he needed it, and as Nico disappeared amidst a crowd of taller men and numerous women, Floyd would defensively answer Sienna's earlier remark with "he's just a friend".

"A friend? Merle said you two were all over eachother at City Limits a while back."

"What'd Merle say, exactly?" Floyd would ask as he set down his glass, looking down at the ring that formed around the rim of it shortly after it was placed, sweating much like he was at this point.

"Said he saw y' all over some red fox guy, you two were sittin' together and you were talkin' about havin' a boyfriend now. Didn't expect it outta ya, he said. The fox is cute though, y' didn't pin me as playin' that field but--" Sienna couldn't finish her thought before Floyd interrupted.

"I was bangin' the fuckin' waitress, the fox bartender at City Limits. He wasn't talkin' about Nico." Floyd would lie.

"Oh! Merle said y' were with a guy though." Sienna replied, looking rather surprised.

"Yeah," Floyd cut back, no ounce of certainty in his voice, his voice dripping with a defensive aggression, "Nico's a friend'a mine. The fox I was all over was the bartender."

"Well damn, y'all seem so fond'a each other, out there dancin' together and all that. S'almost a shame" Sienna would look over at Nico, standing at the bar waiting for their drinks, then look back to Floyd, who was looking at her with a coldness in his eyes like a nervous animal, no signs of certainty on his expression as her smile faded, an air of uncertainty across her own face as she looked away, clearly uncomfortable, her posture bouncing on her feet a little as she broke their tension with a short "aaahh, weeeell...good seein' ya Floyd."

Sienna would take a few steps away from the situation as the honky-tonk music drowned out the tension of their situation with steel guitars meant to have you up and having fun. Floyd's attitude would break as soon as he was left alone, the hybrid taking off his hat and setting it on the table, running his hands over his face, pulling slightly at the skin beneath his fur as he looked off to nothing in particular, a deep exhale of the built anxiety. That moment had little time to settle, though, as he saw in the distance that Sienna was next to Nico at the bar, chatting with him, presumably. Floyd knew getting up now would make the situation worse, but he could only imagine with dread what Sienna was saying to the fox.

Time would offer no peace for Floyd, it seemed, as Nico was handed his drinks and stood there continuing to speak to Sienna, eventually looking over to Floyd, the hybrid clearly able to see Nico was looking directly at him. God, he thought, where was Tanner to take this problem away from him? What was taking the bastard so long? The playful country music he and Nico had been dancing to earlier that night only seemed to be mocking him now, contradicting the way Nico was now looking at him as Sienna continued to speak something to the fox. It was only a moment later, as guitar descended into an upbeat chorus about relaxing at the lake, that Nico would approach with two drinks in hand, setting them so forcefully down on the table that over a quarter of both of them spilled out onto the countertop as Nico remarked "one for you, one for the fuckin' bartender you're apparently bangin'" as he stormed past Floyd, out the door.

The world may as well have been silent for Floyd in that moment as he sat back in his seat, leaning back his neck until he was staring at the open ceiling of the bar, the pipes and guts of the building on shameless display, just as he felt with eyes all on him after the fox had made enough of a noise and scene to attract a few nearby tables to wonder what could've possibly happen. Why couldn't Tanner have just called his boss later, Floyd thought, as Sienna remained sitting alone at the bar and Floyd's drinks sat on the counter in a puddle of their own liquid. The hybrid would sit there in a miserable contemplation at how the night had gone, his mood sinking slowly into the realization that he'd made a mistake that would take a lot more than kisses and tender sex to fix. He'd pound down his own drink as fast he could and tab out, Sienna sitting at the bar looking a bit uncertain about the whereabouts of Tanner, leaving her in prime position for Floyd to leave her with "thanks for that" as he departed, out onto the parking lot where a few folks were arguing but most were standing around smoking, some chatting with one another, some alone, Nico being on the latter end of that, standing off to the side away from the crowd facing the road with a glow on his face and a smoky haze above his head.

"Nico, I--" Floyd started.

"You fuckin' ASSHOLE" the fox turned on a heel, a pull from his cigarette before it was tucked between his index and middle fingers, waved around slightly above and beside his face as he cursed at Floyd, "could've at least told me sooner!"

"I didn't know what t' say!" Floyd would cut back.

"Say about WHAT, Floyd?" the fox barked back.

"Us! I didn't know what t' call us! I still don't!" The hybrid wanted to yell, but he had a reserved energy about him, almost as if he was anxious to be seen in this way, like he didn't want to draw a crowd, which was tragically not at all a concern on Nico's mind.

"If it's so hard for you to be seen datin' a man then you coulda just paid for pussy from any women in the fuckin' county, Floyd! Or at least not told me y' love me!"

"I do love you, though, I do! But I don't know how t' do this! I ain't ever been with--"

"A man! I know y' haven't! I know!" the fox would tuck his cigarette between his teeth and take a pull, freeing up his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes, "y' keep sayin' it but then you wanna take me out and kiss me and dance with me and tell me you love me, which is a pretty conflicting message!"

Floyd's hands would press to his cheeks and pull forward, running along his beard and squeezing it at the end, clearly just trying to displace energy as he replied "Lord, Nico, I just need y' to work with me! Meet me half way or somethin'! Do we gotta call each other boyfriends t' do what we do?"

"No," Nico's cigarette was back in his fingers, being pointed at Floyd, "but we also don't gotta lie and say we're fuckin' waitresses to cover our ass 'cause we got drunk and got a little too honest!"

"Yeah, I shouldn't have done that, I--" Floyd began, interrupted by Nico who barked back "y' shouldn't have, no! And y' shouldn't have told me that y' loved me! and kissed me! and talked about takin' me and my kids t' fuckin' TEXAS like y' were planning on settling down with me when you can't even admit we have anything for each other unless you're plastered drunk!"

There was no room for conversation after that, no room for Floyd's (frankly useless) attempts to undo his mistakes, as Nico was already busy walking down the side of the road, away from the bar as Floyd called out for him, following slowly behind but not chasing him. Nico would turn only to stop once more, throwing his arms out in a furious gesture as he barked "this could've been whatever y' wanted it to be! YOU made the moves though, Floyd, all I did was follow!"

The fox would turn and continue to storm off as he pulled his phone from his pocket, clearly calling someone, the screen light being the only thing that illuminated Nico as he disappeared into the dark space between street lights, walking down the rural road. Floyd didn't want to chase him, it would've only made things worse, and he knew that. He would instead head back inside, start a new tab, and pick back up where he left off, sitting alone and pounding down straight whiskey shots, the time passing like a dream until he found himself squinting as the lights came up, the "last call" bell being rang and the announcement being made. He was in no shape to drive, which is how he found himself beside Sienna once more, who was outside on the sidewalk around the bar crying into her knees, only stopping as a familiar hybrid's hand touched her back as he sat next to her.

"Tanner saw me talkin' to you and thought I was tryin' to sneak around," a snotty sniff, "wouldn't hear none of it. Left me here."

Sienna's markings made for the perfect eye makeup, especially because it they couldn't run down her cheeks when she cried like she was. Now her eyeliner, that was streaked all down her pretty sandy face, but her markings, they remained beautiful, and Floyd would offer a wordless arm around her as he pulled her in to comfort her, and to comfort himself.

They would both find themselves in Floyd's bed that night, and Nico would find himself sleeping on his sofa, as he often did.

---

The thing about rebounds is that they never feel like rebounds. They always feel like they're something more, like the fates aligned for this moment. You find yourself waking up next to someone who's only purpose, in that moment, is to fill the space in your bed that someone else was filling. We make people into placeholders, semicolons for a story we will return to when we can. Love is a strange thing in itself, so inexplicable, often running contradictory to who we are as a person. We sometimes fall in love with those who are seemingly nothing like ourselves, and we're left questioning if the pieces will fall neatly into place or if they'll lay awkwardly unfitting next to us, a shape not meant to intertwine with our own. Was Nico that to Floyd, or were they struggling with something sincere? Nico thought about this as he stared at the low ceiling of the trailer as he heard the rustling of children waking in another room.

That's how heartbreak works, and really everything terrible that ever happens to you other than death itself: you wake up the next day, whether you want to or not. You open your eyes, you experience some sense of familiarity, whether that's the sound of children whispering about needing to pee or just the sensation of your own limbs still attached to your body. Something, anything, will be familiar, and it will remind you, for better or worse, that you are still alive, and that you should probably get up and have breakfast.

Nico found himself staring out the kitchen window at the Bronco parked next door as he started coffee, greeting his children as they made their way in and through the living room, the early risers quick to go to take morning toilet trips and open the fridge for mason jars of milk that were portioned out just for their little bodies. How beautiful, Nico thought, that he could be so thoroughly devastated the night before and still get to witness one of his sons spill milk on the floor seconds after unscrewing the lid with no awareness of how his life was going. It didn't upset him at all, rather it was a welcome feeling of reality, that his heartache wasn't the center of the universe. He'd throw a paper towel on it and use his foot to mop it up. Sometimes, he thought, you need someone to spill milk to make you realize the day goes on whether your heart's broken or not.

Tros would enter the kitchen, and with him would come that lengthy conversation that was good-hearted and loving but could essentially be summed up as "I told y' so". Nico and his grandfather talked for a while over coffee and toast with locally sourced raspberry jam, cereal for the children this morning as Tros didn't want to scramble up eggs this particular day. The kids were in the yard within the hour and Tros and Nico were standing on the back porch chatting as they watched children run around and chase each other through the grass. The yard needed cutting and Nico had nothing to do today, so that would be how he occupied the space he now had in his life. It's another thing, he thought, about God's gift to us. You get your feelings hurt and the grass still needs to be cut.

Weeks passed without a word from Floyd, and Nico was easily able to tell why. Sienna was back in the picture, her car parked in Floyd's driveway most of the day, save for when she went to her college classes. She lived with her parents, Floyd had told Nico, but she went to college for nursing, so she was unemployed and had all the time in the world to hang around and pay attention to him, which is what she seemed to do for two months straight, until one afternoon when Floyd's screen door slammed shut and her car peeled out of the driveway would lead to a few days of silence before Nico would get a text saying "we need to talk".

And, like an idiot, he would go talk, and he and Floyd would be "a thing" again.

Then they wouldn't.

Then they would.

Then they wouldn't.

The next "would", though, was different than the previous. It had lasted for months straight, longer than any of the previous periods of time with both Nico and Sienna. It was Floyd's longest stretch since he'd moved to Virginia, and it seemed like it was really shaping up to be "the one". Perhaps it was during the times with Sienna that Floyd realized Nico was really worth keeping around, or maybe it was that his times with Sienna were going so badly that he felt like Nico was the lesser of two troubles. He had began throwing the word "love" around a lot more often, which made Nico cautiously optimistic it was the former of the two options, but it was on a Friday night at the Bum Steer after Floyd had successfully talked the guy managing the mechanical bull into letting them ride as a duo that Nico felt things were going somewhere.

Using the excuse of "we won't hit heads together, he's a lot shorter than me" (along with some bribery) to get the two of them on the bull together, Nico and Floyd had taken a tandem ride that had caught a crowd, eager to see how this would go. Much to everyone's surprise, Nico and Floyd included, they actually both stayed on for quite some time, and it would result in a round of applause as the two crawled off the inflatable area around the bull together.

Floyd would then, in front of everyone, grab Nico by the face and kiss him like he had that night behind City Limits, like he loved him. And maybe, Nico thought, that was a good sign.