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Hehhey, everyone!

This is it...after two months of waiting, brewing, ironing and sheer anxious excitement, I am glad to present the 101st chapter of my ongoing furry soap opera, "I'm With The Hockey Hunk!" I'm one day late, and I apologize for the sudden delay after the enthusiastic announcement of the Monday deadline - sometimes things just don't go the way you plan them to! But now we're back, and we're on the roll!

We're carrying on with the second half of the third season, and you can bet that there will be a lot of excitement in the air as the plot goes on again. How shall Rory fare? Read today, and keep reading, to find out!

As always, your feedback is of immense value, and greatly appreciated. This story wouldn't be what it is today without your eager and diligent following and comments. They definitely keep me on my toes here, and all the feedback helps me to improve the story even further.

Don't forget that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!

Have a good read, y'all, relax, and once again, a huge thanks for your patience! Let's make this a season to remember!

Gruffy

*

It was probably Rory's doing that I had enjoyed my chore-like trip to the university so much, even without the added complication of a sudden appearance by the effete leonine menace of Dr. Gaye Jr., but I could hardly think it made much of a difference in the total balance of things. I had no idea that he was now working for Professor Hartnell - how could that not have come up? He must have known that I went to the same classes that he did? We took Hartnell's classes together. Humph. Maybe it'd be time for the old professor to reach a more venerable status and leave the chair open for someone younger. Or maybe he didn't just think that I cared to know. Everyone seemed to remember Nicholas Faye Jr. all too well, besides Professor Hartnell. Or maybe he was pretending he didn't remember. That's a thought. The old man might be more devious than I thought. I ought to raise the issue during our latest discussion about the work, just to test the waters.

Maybe it is possible that the one cat called Nicholas doesn't do well with water.

I used to love swimming. Now the idea of slipping into that water creeps me out. Maybe there'd be room for a tub in the big bathroom. Make it into a bit of a day spa of sorts. A lounger and a sun lamp for that extra frying effect. Maybe even a Yucca plant.

You can't disinfect Yucca plant leaves with rubbing alcohol, can you? It almost melted the plastic thing Charlene brought me. Poor flower, and poor coyote. I better hide it before she comes over the next time. I can claim it made me freak out. She's good with freak-outs nowadays. I'm surprised she didn't bring it in cellophane.

Enough of that kind of thinking, though. I had just finished showering and now it was time to start the food, with the non-help of Rory, of course. I put him to the chair so that he could see what I was up to, and started looking for the ingredients and equipment required to accomplish this culinary event. The chicken was bound to be nice, I hoped, and I was almost sure it was fully defrosted by now. I didn't want to put it to the microwave for that purpose. Maybe I should've poked it. I glanced at the plastic-wrapped package and wondered whether I could poke it with a finger to check its status.

I decided not to.

I kept taking a few look at Rory, too. He wasn't doing much, just sitting there and rolling his thumbs together. That was alright. At least his thumb seemed to be working ok now, after he'd ditched the splint for good. It did him no good.

I smiled a bit as I caught him over my shoulder.

"Soooo, Rowreeh!" I flicked my tail expansively. "Do you think Faye's already started chasing some student tail?" I smirked.

Rory snuffled and made some sort of a Greek statue pose by pressing his head into a palm and looking at me from a strange downwards angle.

"Do you think he does?" Rory questioned.

I winked quickly and enjoyed the look on his face. I abandoned my musings on the chicken for now and decided that I could start making the salad, now. I took the knife and the cutting board out of the cabinet and then placed a hefty, dripping wet and cool cucumber onto the plastic surface.

Chop, chop, chop!

"Well," I licked my lips, "he was kinda undressing that frisky jaguar and your little buddy Mason there while they were having that little graceful heheheh talk in the hallway."

Rory grimaced.

"Somehow I doubt Mason would be flattered by that kind of attention," he sniffled.

"Perhaps" I chopped with a smile, "But maybe the jaguar would."

"You think?" Rory asked me.

I pushed the fresh cucumber bits off to the side with the blade of my knife and chose a nice, round, red pepper next.

"Just seemed a bit...you know...happy-go-lucky to me," I said.

Rory seemed to be thinking for a while before he gave me the answer, which gave me the ample time to finish with the pepper and move onto the iceberg salad next.

"Well, yeah, it wouldn't really surprise me," Rory replied.

I didn't like the nonchalant look on Rowreeh's face, and decided that rattling him up a bit would do him much good. I struck my head back a bit, flicked my ears, fluttered my eyes, and let it slurr.

"Ohhh Doctor Faye...", I purred, to make it extra food, "ohhh, ohh please Doctor Faye, can we have some private tutoring time tonight, say, eight o'clock in your office when everyone else has left the building...ohhhh Mister Faye...."

By the time Rory made a much better face, I knew I had succeeded.

"I don't know about you but I'm getting the creeps even thinking about a...Doctor...Faye."

"I suspect you're not the only one," I smirked, while one of my eyes coordinated with my paws to cut the lettuce into agreeable pieces.

Rory rumbled and then opened up again.

"You know," he said, took a pause for a deep breath, and carried on, "for a moment I thought he was going to get all paws on us when he was telling those kids that we used to go to the university together."

Poor Rory. Always thinking in the terms of worst case scenarios.

I chuckled, though. No need to dwell on Rory's Public Displays of Homosexuality afflictions.

"Besides trying to kiss dudes for a hello?" I suggested.

"Yeah," Rowreeh muttered.

I flicked my tail lightly.

"Well you never know with Nicholas Faye..."

"Ugh!" Rory rapped the table with his fingerpads.

I gave him a look.

"Are you worried perhaps that he might tell your buddy Mason about your sordid past?"

Rory chuckled dryly.

"Sordid? I don't think it was quite that bad!"

I smiled patiently.

"It might surprise the wolf dude, though."

Again he took a longer while to sort out his mind, and that fit me just fine. I could finish splicing the salad and then placing the ingredients carefully into the big plastic bowl I liked to use for salads, and I even had the time to get the little pitcher of oil mixed with a hint of vinegar and some black pepper, to pour over the concoction in my bowl before applying a big plastic fork into it for the good shuffling and digging action.

"Well, yeah, it might."

I flicked my ears at Rowreeh and gave him a look across the edge of the fridge door as I put the bowl in.

"You shouldn't worry about that now. It might or might not happen."

Rory scratched his chin.

"I...suppose," he said.

I swapped the cutting board and the knife into the washbasin and replaced them with a near identical pair, but this time with utensils needed for cutting the chicken itself. You never could be too careful when doing that, and that's why I was getting my disposable latex gloves from their safe box when my ears picked up a sound, familiar, though rare, but it was there, coming from the distance.

I could see Rory's ears turning, too, and that made me make my mind up, too, on the source.

"Isn't that your phone ringing?"

"Yeah," Rory answered, "I must've left it in my jacket pocket."

I put down my knife and my gloves and nodded.

"Let me get it for you."

"Thanks," Rory replied.

I gave him a smile.

"Where'd you left your jacket?" I asked.

"On my bed," Rowreeh replied. "You can't miss it."

I snuffled.

"I know what your jacket looks like and I know where you're sleeping, especially since it's not my bed," I replied, just because I could while I sailed out of the kitchen.

It only took me a few steps to reach the guest bedroom, via the living room, and as I walked closer, the sound of Rory's phone ringing slowly became louder. It still was hardly deafening me by the time I located his jacket haphazardly thrown on the bed. The ringing only boomed into its full intensity once I body-searched the rumpled garment and discovered the vibrating square from within one of the inner pockets.

Well, well, the curiosity might have done naughty things to the cats, but I was curious, and turned the phone over to see whose name might be on the glowing screen.

My tail did a bit of a stop, I have to admit.

_ _

VICTOR HOLDEN IS CALLING

My ears jumped first. So, it was the infamous Doberman's turn now...

I felt a certain tightness in my chest as I stood there, staring at the name. It'd been whimpered several times during the awful night after that disastrous phone call to the other Holden, and I suppose I couldn't blame Rowreeh for that...as much as I could blame myself, for giving him the idea and the means for the call in the first place. Yes, I told him to call this Cobb, simply because it seemed like a reasonable idea...at the time.

Maybe I shouldn't have speculated on it. It was Rory's business, after all, and the less extra parties were involved, the better, it seemed, especially after this curious "Leave Victor alone!!!" incident and whatever fishy had went on between Rory and that book tiger.

Boy, did my lion know how to choose his guys.

The phone rang again and reminded me of the fact that there were still friendly duties to undertake, and that prompted me to take the deep breath I knew I would need for speaking up, and proceeded to the kitchen.

Rory was sitting there still, and when I appeared, he glanced at the phone held in my outstretched paw, and then to my face, questioningly, of course. I wondered whether he was sensing the gravity of the situation, even if I tried to keep my muzzle without any overt clues to the nature of the call. Maybe he really knew me better than I could even imagine, let alone hope to deceive.

"It's Victor," I said, and placed the phone onto the table. "Do you want me to go the living room or something?"

Rory's eyes snapped to mine at the mention of the name, before they crashed openly onto the phone that kept the whole table rattling with its vibrating function. I could hear his tail batting the floor, and his ears kept flicking rapidly, just like my lion's always did when he was faced with something unpleasant, or unusually pleasant. Figures.

*

Oh my fucking God.

Peter kept on staring at me and I kept on staring at that phone, the center of my world as it could have been at the moment, with those words etched onto its tiny high-tech display device and telling me that the last person I had expected to call was even now passionately trying to reach me. How long had the phone been going off now? Over a minute? I gave it another stare, and let my eyes jump to Peter's too. The cougar was standing nearby, holding his paws down to his sides but not touching them, probably intending to disinfect them later after handling my filthy phone that might contain Rory-cooties, of course, and that wouldn't do. He seemed calm, as much as his voice had spoke, too, asking me if I wanted to be alone for this call.

Did I, even?

The memory of the calls, short, snappish and full of rumbled apologies that seemed to fall flat the moment they left my muzzle, and Victor's own ones sounded so...tired and weary, somehow, that it made my heart ache to even think about them. Add Cobb's insistence on him not wanting to do anything with me anymore and it had been settled...things were bad and fixing them seemed a distant possibility. It had taken us long enough to start talk a little, at least, and then it had all gone down the drain and now...there was the name, urging me to answer the phone and to find out just what it would be this time.

My heart was hammering within moments, and I looked at Peter pleadingly, wondering if he could offer any sort of a solace in my shock and surprise.

"Go on, Rowreeh," he said. "I'll be in the living room."

My eyes gave him a final look that soon caught only the tip of his swinging tail as Peter disappeared out of sight, but definitely not out of mind.

Fuck this shit.

I took a deep breath, grabbed the phone and answered.

"Rory here," I said.

The first thing I heard was a deep breath, a really long one that sounded like it was going on and on for seconds, and interspaced with that was the rumble of cars and the beep of a horn and generally a soundscape that didn't fit my idea with Victor's cozy bedroom. Was he out, somewhere? With Cobb?

...or was it even Victor on the phone, but rather, maybe Cobb had taken his brother's phone and was coming in for another round at me?

My belly tightened.

"Hello?" I said as the silence stretched on. "Hello, Victor?"

The breath flowed against my ear again, followed by some very quick words.

"Rory, I know that you're probably pretty fucking pissed off at me and Cobb right now but I'm standing outside your building and I'd really like to come up. Can I, please?"

I'm surprised I didn't just drop the phone. The words were spoken with such passion that they nailed me into place, staring at Peter's immaculate kitchen cabinets and with blood rushing into my ears. They tried to flatten, and the one pressed against my phone caught it almost painfully, the snap was so quick. My tail coiled itself around a chair leg and squeezed, as if it was trying to act as some sort of a lifeline while I struggled with my excitement on hearing Victor's voice, agitated, yes, but definitely not seeping with anger.

I sat there for a while and I'm not even sure how long it took me to answer, for I was considering what he had just said, and Victor didn't seem to keen to speak more, either, and that made the silence appear again, though shared by the sound of cars driving by and Victor's breathing caressing my ear.

Cars...outside...

"Victor?" I spoke his name in a questioning tone, not really sure what to accomplish with that, but it seemed like a start in trying to sort out this latest twist in a very winding road that had left us into this mysterious point.

I could hear the big Dobie rumble, before he spoke.

"Yeah," his gruff voice rolled over me quickly, "I really need to talk to you about everything, and what Cobb said to you. I know he talked with you. Can I come up, please? I don't trust my legs much after so long in bed."

Dozens of thoughts began to run through my mind simultaneously, and not all of them made sense. Cobb? Why talk about COBB when there were some more obvious subjects, such as a Victor Terrence Holden and a Rory Joshua Gliese, and what was or wasn't going on between them. Sure, Cobb has been a third wheel ever since he showed up but it wasn't Cobb who had caused all the messes...except maybe the grief of hearing all those awful things from him, half of which were true...and now...I wasn't so sure.

Another thought came urgently, though. Victor was talking about wanting to come up and standing outside my building, and that could only mean that he had somehow gotten around to my own place and was now stalking outside the front door and expecting me to let him in at any moment so that he could take the elevator up to my floor. Had I not told him that I was staying with Peter?

I probably hadn't, I realized, and the cold grip of shock caught my belly again. Damn! Now he was thinking I was there and he was there and I was here and...and...

Oh, shit.

"Are you alright, Victor?" I asked the question that concerned me most.

The Dobie grunted, and I wondered whether it was for pain or displeasure, and definitely didn't like either as an option.

"I sure as hell ain't," Victor replied. "I just heard Cobb had been speaking to you behind my back and telling you to keep away. I got a bit pissed off and left."

His voice sure sounded like it, and for a moment I got a flash of what Victor looked like when he was feeling an excessive amount of disapproval towards someone, having been the target of that gaze during my panicking lie to Haakon about my relationship with Victor...and I wondered just how much worse it could be when it happened between the two twin brothers who had known each other since the moment they took their first breaths and probably had already withstood a whole truckload of shit from one another. I wondered just how bad it had to go with Cobb to actually really piss off the usually docile Dobie.

The idea was almost scary to think about, being a speculation in the realm of wondering whether the Mayan calendar really might be telling the truth about this puny, confusing world.

"Oh?"

What a smart response, I thought, and cringed while I held the phone close to my ear.

Victor was rumbling deeply again. I couldn't help but envision him pacing in front of my building, a big, tall Dobie with phone pressed to his ear and looking like he'd just want to bite something, soon.

"Could I just come up and we could talk in private?" Victor questioned.

I got the feeling that he wanted to add "People are starting to stare", but he didn't say anything more.

What could I say but the truth? My paw began to feel clammy and my lips felt dry, but I knew that it was the only way to go.

"Victor," I started. "I'm not staying at my apartment. I'm at my friend Peter's place, who's been taking care of me because I can't move around properly yet."

The silence sounded so damn depressing.

"Yeah?" Victor questioned, and I wondered whether it was a real question, or an accusation.

"Yeah," I answered solemnly. "He's been a great help and I wouldn't have been able to come back to town without him having me stay over. It just wouldn't have been possible."

Another silence, before another rumble.

"So what next?" the Dobie grunted. "Rory, I don't think I want to go back home right at the moment. And I really need to talk to you."

The idea of a Cobb lying on the floor in Victor's apartment, tied down with duct tape and extension cords popped into mind, but it was a fleeting one, albeit so pleasurable that I vowed to keep thinking about it at some other occasion, when matters weren't evolving so rapidly.

"I'll come there," I said. "I can get a cab and be there in...well...less than half an hour, if I get one right away. I'm only in Bell's End."

Victor made a sound that was much like a harrumph.

"Alright," he snapped.

My tailtip tapped the floor, but I stood fast.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," I assured him again. "Can you wait that long?"

"Hmph. Just about," the Dobie answered. "I'll be staying here."

"Don't go anywhere," I said quickly. "Don't want to lose you again."

I felt my cheeks blush a little at my latest addition, but Victor...well...he didn't take it badly.

"Yeah," he breathed. "See you soon, ok?"

"Yeah, ok!" I flicked my ears and forced a more cheerful lilt to my voice, despite not feeling cheerful at all, and more like I was about to puke.

"Ok. Thanks, Rory."

Then he hung up.

I put my phone down and let out a breath I seemed to have been unconsciously holding for minutes now. My skin felt itchy and my paw was as clammy as ever.

Oh my God.

"Rowreeh?"

My eyes and ears snapped onto the shape of Peter's head appearing from the door arch, soon to be followed by the rest of the tawny cat as he stepped into the kitchen again, now with an extra whiff of rubbing alcohol around him.

I gave him a long look.

"It's Victor," I said, waving my paw over the phone, "he...he..."

Peter nodded patiently.

"Wanted to talk, I presume."

"He's downstairs," I muttered.

Peter's eyes widened and his muzzle adopted a quizzical curve. I shook my head.

"Not here," I said quickly. "Outside Park."

Peter nodded quickly.

"How'd he get there?"

"I don't know," I raked my fingers through my head furs. "But it sounds like he's there alone and that he wants to talk with me right now."

"Is he alright?" Peter mused.

"I honestly don't know," I replied. "And I don't know what's going on between him and Cobb but I get the idea that Victor isn't too happy with him at the moment."

That probably was an understatement, but I didn't know anything better.

"What do you plan to do next?" Peter asked.

I gave my crutches a mournful look before returning my eyes to Peter's.

"I have to go there," I said. "See what's going on. Can you call your regular cab for me?"

Peter's brow furrowed in a well familiar expression of worry.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

I almost stopped when he said that. The sheer effort it took for Peter to even step out of the front door was well known to me, and now he was offering to travel to my less than sterile locale and even to meet the stupid Dobie who was making me blabber at my Peter constantly about Victor did this and Victor did that and with A HEALTHY DOSE OF COBB, HEY HEY AND YOU DON'T GO MESSING AROUND WITH MY BROTHER VICTOR WHOS A HEALTHY YOUNG DOBIE AND HE WON'T HAVE TROUBLE GETTING A GOOD BOYFRIEND UNLIKE THAT ROTTEN RORY GLIESE WHO FUCKS AROUND AND DOESN'T KNOW WHAT KIND OF AN ASS HES LETTING GO IF HE DROPS MY BROTHER VICTOR LIKE A STINKING PIECE OF SHIT!

Sigh.

I smiled weakly.

"Thank you, Peter."

Peter folded his arms.

"But you don't want me to come, and I won't argue," the cougar said. "I know there's no turning your mind."

I snuffled.

"That doesn't sound too positive a character analysis," I rumbled.

Peter snuffled.

"Can't argue with the truth," he said as he walked across the kitchen. "Let's get that cab for you, then. We don't want the prince to have to wait for the princess."

I showed him my tongue and reached for my crutches.

*

"And here we go...Park Lane Avenue...and it was 63, yeah, man?"

My ears jumped against the ceiling of the cab, and I caught the cab-driving raccoon's eyes via the rear view mirror. I nodded quickly.

"Yeah," I said.

"Sure do."

I glanced down onto my phone, clutched in my paw in case that Victor might call, but so far it had not rang. I was feeling so nervous now with the prospect of actually seeing Victor after all these weeks. How would it go? What'd he even look like? Would he still have bandages? Would he limp? Didn't he mention something about having weak legs? Was that because of the accident or the bed rest that ensued? What could it be?

Familiar building rose on either side of the cab and stared at me with their numerous faces. It brought little comfort at the moment. My eyes swept the pavement in search of a sight of a certain brown-furred male, pointless as it was yet, too, since we weren't even there yet.

Not yet.

"There we go...and it'll be..."

I accepted the price without more than a quick rumble, and shoved the bills into the cabbie's paw without saying anything except a rushed thank you, after the needed assurance to tell him that I could get out without help. The crutches offered me an excuse to not to wave him goodbye, and I doubted I would have thought of any general rules of politeness at the moment, anyway. My eyes moved rapidly along the street on either side now, the pavement, up and down and even over to the other side, where a similar apartment block and the worn sign of the minimarket looked back to me.

Oh, crap.

I hobbled over to the front door and found the little alcove there empty, so Victor hadn't taken shelter from the sunlight there, I discovered. I gave a quick look at the intercom panel and then stepped back onto the pavement, my tail flicking behind me while I looked up and down again, and tried not to attract too much attention onto me from all the furs walking merrily along their happy ways with no knowledge of my personal plight.

Victor...where were you? Already given up and gone away? My phone hadn't rang, and I'd expected him to call me if he'd made a change in his plan to meet me. What if he'd felt sick and needed to sit down somewhere? I took a few steps down the street and quickly turned my head from side to side in a Victor-scanning maneuver. Acting the leonine sonar didn't bring any results yet.

"Victor..."I muttered under my breath.

Maybe I should call him, I thought. I remembered that my phone had been stuffed into my pocket, and to get into it would need a paw and...crap. My head twisted in all direction as I tried to decide how to secure myself for that maneuver. I decided to just waddle over to the wall and lean against it for a prop, so that I could spare the paw on my good leg's side, which seemed safer. Just a quick call. Just an easy...

I felt the plastic edges of my phone around my closed fingers at the moment when my eyes caught the familiar sight of Victor, walking down the street towards me, what appeared to be his phone held in a paw and being tapped by his other paw, quickly. My ears and my tail instantly jumped.

Victor!

Victor!

I thrust my phone back to the bottom of my pocket and grabbed my crutch which had rested against the wall momentarily. I heaved myself into motion.

"Victor!" I called out.

He approached, walking slowly, not with the same stride I knew was his usual mode of movement, but shorter, slower, somehow. He might've been a big guy to begin with, but he had always walked with a purpose, being a sporting Dobie as he was, but now he seemed more clumsy and more...well, he seemed to be moving more like his size, I guess that was it, and it made my belly flutter with nerves.

He saw me eventually, when there were about ten yards between us, and just kept on walking.

I squeezed onto the handles of my crutches and waited for it.

Victor touched his phone once more and then stuffed it into the pocket of his jacket. It wasn't zipped closed, and I could see that it was maybe hanging a bit more loosely around him than it was meant to be. A white bandage covered one of his ears and made his head seem lopsided, considering that the tip of the wrapped ear hung a little to the side, unlike the other ear, which was perfectly perky and fine, just the way I liked it. His eyes bore into mine, even across the distance that was slowly becoming less and less, and then...

...there we were.

I swallowed.

Victor gave m a tired look.

"You mind offering a big guy a coffee, would you?"

*

Thank you for reading!

Don't forget to comment! All the feedback is always appreciated, and most helpful. Also remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well.

Tune in on Friday for the next installment of The Hockey Hunk!

Cheerio!

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