FSE

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(This is a reposting of an old story I did. I made a few changes and spruced a few details. Hopefully it's better than it was, though I admit it's still a tad bit sappy, I still like it. I'm leaving in the original preface notes so that you still have a history for the story. Chapter three is in the refining works, but as you may or may not have noticed, I haven't had much time for story writing as of late. I'm slowing going through all of my stories and working on them because I'm striving for "emotional realism". I'm a firm believer that the more real and believable the emotions in a story are, the great a connection there will be with the reader. I like happy stories, and I admit, I try to write my stories with a happy ending, but I'm shallow either. Put helium in a balloon and the balloon floats and looks pretty and is nice. Put too much helium in and the balloon pops. Try to breath it in and it just makes your voice squeaky and you look like an idiot. Happiness and joy is wonderful in the right places and proportions. Anywho, enjoy folks =)

P.S., yes, I know Zack is a jerk -- he's supposed to be ;-)

P.S.2. I may be editing this story again soon, there are still a few things to work out of it.)

Ok, this work I have spent months refining. I must have rewritten sections of it three times or more, trying to get it to a peak story. I'm not much of a writer, I admit, but I do try -- I've basically poured everything I've got into it, and hopefully it works out to improve what I've got. Always do your best, and your best will get better. Any case, I'm still rewriting the third part, so that may be a little long in the coming. It used to have a fire in it where someone's house burned down, but then I thought "For heaven's sakes! All my stories have some stupid terrible tragedy in them." So, I cut it out and decided to try for something fresh. This story, like all my stories, has yiff in it but yiff is not the main focus, so though it may take a while to actually get around to the yiff, if you like the plot of the story, then you'll want to read the first and second parts. Yeah, this is probably going to end up in more than one part. If there are rough spots, forgive me. I guess my brain got burned out after a certain number of rewrites on a certain section. *smiles tiredly* A lot of other stuff going on in my life too, so, this story has been a bit of a refuge for me. I hope it lives up to the expectations of all here.

Little Black Disk

*click* Good morning folks! It's 6:00 a.m. here in the beautiful city of San Diego, and this is Chris Selvoke your host for KPNN. The temperature today is going to be a balmy 75 -- just right for that beaching spirit. To start us off let's listen to one of my favorite morning songs . . .

"Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, there's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby. Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come tru-*CLAP*"

"Ugh, I hate that song. Of all songs why that one, Chris?" Zack grumbled at the radio, almost as if he expected a response. He slid his legs over the side of the bed and lazily groaned his way out, rubbing his yellow-scaled chest and yawning. He turned for just a moment to send an icy glare back at the sun which was seizing his room, then trudged into the bathroom and began the morning ritual he had been repeating for the past three years since college: shower, polish horns, brush teeth, stretch wings, stretch tail, and do a few exercises. He was a fairly health-minded guy who liked to keep in shape and stay in good condition. He wasn't the Hercules of dragondom, but he didn't really want to be either; he just wanted to stay in good constitution. His life was repetitive, and sometimes it got boring, but for the most part he liked things being a little quieter with less bustling activity. Being a red dragon, everyone expected him to be a lady's man with nightlife to rival that of any black drake, but in reality he had almost zero sexual appetite. In fact he didn't really like women in that way. So instead of making a lot of friends, he just went to work each day, got his job done, and went back home to watch a movie or just read a good book. Practically his only companion was KPNN with Chris Selvoke - and he didn't even like the host; it just gave him something he could rant at and about without retaliation from anything.

After getting dressed, he packed up his briefcase and hopped into his auto, an older pickup truck. His boss hated it because it didn't look "professional," but he couldn't make Zack part with it. Being the faithful listener he was and figuring that in the past forty-five minutes the song had ended, Zack switched the radio of the truck on as he pulled out of the driveway. His timing was impeccable.

*click* And now for a special announcement: Tomorrow we'll be moving! That's right! KPNN has a new facility with brand-spankin' fresh equipment, courtesy of the Ozark Company."

"WHAT?" Zack screamed at the radio, "It can't be! That's where I work!"

"It's true -- in fact our staff has already started to set up shop! The gracious manager of the Ozark Company, Mr. Haven, has donated it to us in honor of our work with the orphanage earlier this year, and I speak for all of us when I say how grateful we are to him fo-" *click*

"Great! Just peachy! With the radio I can turn it off when I want, but at work they'll be pumping it through the company speaker system as a promotional thing. I don't need any more stress today; I've got enough on my mind."

******

Zack's nostrils flared in utter rage.

"What do you mean I have to share my cubicle?!"

Mr. Haven let out a sigh and scratched the back of his head as he tried to think of a way to explain.

". . . Look, I'm sorry Zack, but with the new radio team moving in we had to consolidate somehow. You won't both be in there at the same time. He'll just be using it when he works night shift."

"Thank goodness for pennies from heaven. Why did we invite them in the first place?"

"We need the revenue they will bring and they need the working space, so it worked out to be a mutually benefiting business move."

Zack heaved a sigh and glared at his boss for a moment longer, then relented.

"All right, but if he gets in my way just once, then I'm leaving."

"Calm down Zack! It won't be as bad as all that, and quite frankly you're acting like a jerk. He leaves an hour before you even get here. Now just go ahead and get to work. I'll let you close early since we don't have much on the schedule for today," Mr. Haven offered, trying to placate Zack's discontent.

"Fine. I'll see you later," the red dragon mumbled. Zack stomped into his beloved cubicle and slid into the chair, spending a few idle moments boring holes through the computer monitor with his eyes. The dragon hated a lot of change, and in his book this qualified as a lot of change. Paperwork would get messed up, time schedules would have to be re-arranged, more needs would have to be met, and above all else, he would have to do something he did as seldom as he possibly could: deal with another sentient being. He leaned forward and started to fiddle with his papers when a small black disk fell out from among them.

"What on earth . . ." He muttered, giving it a quick examination and popping it into his disk drive. After a few moments of reluctant grinding, the disk divulged several text files with dates as the names. He opened the most recent one. It read as follows:

"Dear Journal,

Another day has gone by, and there isn't really anything new to report. Our team has moved to a new location (here in the Ozark Company building), but I told you about that earlier. Chris says it should bring up more listeners because we have more transmitting power here, so I suppose it's a good thing. Man I'm tired . . . tired and lonely. It's 5 in the morning and I haven't eaten, as usual, so I'm starving and there's not a soul in the whole building except me. Such are my Wednesday nights. I'm sick of this dull life I lead, just the same routine over and over. I wish I had someone. Right now all I have is Ruby at the old Diner, and she's just a waitress. Heh, and neither of us is interested in the other -- we just chat together. Which reminds me, I go there tomorrow morning -- I still haven't given up the habit, I know. Anyway, I'm not sure what to think. Oh yeah, Chris. I suppose I have him too, but he isn't what I'm looking for. All he wants is someone to get off with: a willing concubine at his beck and call. Mom is too far away and never really gets the chance to contact me. I'm just sad is all, but it'll pass after a while. Well, I have to head out -- I just realized I'm late leaving, so I'm gonna try to get home in a hurry. My bed is calling loudly.

• Derrick"

"Great! A gay sentimental moron is sharing my cubicle, the guy on the radio I already hate is gay, and now they've got to go and stick themselves into my life." Zack exclaimed to himself, flicking the disk out and tossing it on top of his desk. Moments later there was a huge crash as something slammed into the cubical and started to send the entire structure careening over onto its side. Zack flew out of his chair and barely managed to stabilize the thing before it collapsed. It wasn't long before his eyes settled on a black dragon who was struggling on the floor with his foot in a bucket, cleaning cloths draped over various extremities of his body, and a mop tangled in between his legs.

"Oh h-hi. My name is Derrick. I just f-forgot something here before I left." the black dragon explained, stammering a bit as he sorted himself and stood up. Zack gave him a very unsympathetic glare and reached back onto the desk, grabbing the disk and shoving it forward.

"This?" he asked coldly.

"Oh . . . yeah, thanks for keeping it for me." Derrick replied as he took the disk, hesitating a bit at Zack's obvious hostility.

"Just keep it to yourself, or next time you're gonna find it on this desk crumpled into tiny little bits. You hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah I hear you." Derrick replied quietly, almost in a whisper. He was plainly hurt, but without further words he turned and walked down the hall to the exiting stairwell. Zack sighed as he picked up the mop and cloths, dumped them into the bucket, and shoved it out into the hallway with his foot. After making sure the flimsy cubical walls were once more secure, he flopped back into his chair and went about the task of returning things to some semblance of organization, though for the most part the normal state of things was not much better than it had been before Derrick's calamitous entrance (Zack was not a very meticulous housekeeper).

The day went along rather smoothly after that. Zack got his work done even earlier than usual, so as promised his boss let him off early. He went home, watched an old John Wayne western with dinner, and went to bed. Soon it was morning, Chris's voice was blaring out of the radio alarm, and Zack once again began his ritualistic preparations for work. Forty minutes later he walked into his cubicle which was the same as it always was . . . . . or not. Everything was filed, ordered and perfectly organized; it looked like something out of an Office Max commercial. He opened the drawer of the desk: pencils, pens and markers were in their separate dishes -- in their dishes even! -- receipts were folded and stuffed in one corner, paperclips were collected and placed in their box, papers were sorted and in order - Arg! Zack couldn't stand it! He slammed his fist down on the desk and sent a tremulous shudder through it as he earnestly resisted the yearning to rip his claws over its glimmering, dust-free, uncluttered surface. He brushed off his chair and carefully sat down in it. Once he was sure some exotic disease was not overtaking him, he sighed and sat back with his face furrowed deeply into a frown. He switched on his computer and let it boot only to find that instead of just opening up to windows like it normally did, he was now imprisoned with a user account.

"WHAT?!?" He slammed his fist into the keyboard, backspaced, and commenced typing in various possible passwords for his account - or at least, what he could best guess was his account. With each successive failure he got angrier, a random curse or enraged exclamation flying out of his mouth on every attempt, and at the end of five minutes his blood had practically turned into a gush of lava within his veins. He marched down to Mr. Haven's office and burst into the room.

"I want that kid's phone number NOW! He went and put me into a user account on my OWN COMPUTER, and I don't even know the password for it! How does he expect me to do my work?!"

"Zack, for heaven's sakes take it easy. You've been with us for a long time and you are a good friend of mine; now isn't the time to blow your top . . . now if you'll give me a minute . . . here we are. Take this, but _don't_ chew him out. I'm sure he meant well."

"Meant well?!" Zack yelled, snatching the offered paper out of the wolf's hand, "For heaven's sakes the kid is GAY!"

At this point the wolf began to show his irritation.

"Look. I don't know what you know about that 'kid's' private life, but for one thing it's none of your darn business nor mine. For another thing, just because he's gay doesn't mean he's a retard. He's just as intelligent as the rest of us, and that's something you're going to have to learn. If you can't take it, then I suggest you leave. We're not forcing you to be his boyfriend; all I need you to do is share a cubicle. Now go call him, get the password, and get to work -- and be nice about it."

Zack stormed out of the room and went back down to his cubicle. He flopped into his chair yet again and let himself stew for a few minutes, trying to calm down before calling Derrick. Finally, he felt his rage begin to abate and dialed the number. There were a few rings on the other end before Derrick's voice answered.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hey, this is Zack. Before you say anything, I want you to know that I am NOT happy with what you did to my computer, or my desk, or my drawers."

"I'm sorry. I thought you would have liked things to be a bit cleaner since I made such a mess yesterday. I se-"

"Shut up! Let me finish. I don't know the password to my own account and that bothers me."

"I don't blame you. Did you look in the drawer?"

"What?"

"Look in the drawer."

Zack pulled out his drawer and almost immediately spotted a note jotted down on one of the pads: "RedDragon: sunshine BlackDragon: starshine" For a few seconds Zack couldn't say anything, and then his resolve came back.

"Leave it to a fag to come up with stupid passwords like that." He muttered into the phone, partially unconsciously.

"Now look here yo-"

"No, you look, fag! I don't want to see your face anywhere near my cubicle, and if I ever do it's gonna be on the other side of San Diego within five seconds. Catch my drift? Just stay away!"

With that he hung up the phone and let out a low growl. He couldn't stand homos, and the thought he had to share a cubicle with one or lose his job didn't make him any happier. He typed in the password for his account and in an instant it began loading with an irritatingly happy whrrrrrr. As he sat back in his chair, a throat cleared itself behind him. He swiveled around to see his boss leaning against the doorway.

"I have some bad news for you . . ." the wolf began.

"No, no more bad news, please." Zack protested, throwing his hands in the air.

"I've been going over the time schedules with Chris, and apparently Derrick is going to need more time than we thought."

"How much more time?" Zack asked warily.

"Well, considering the position Chris is promoting him to, he's gonna need work time every day."

"When!?"

"A little bit short of the hours you work. Now, seeing as how he can't do all of his work at ni-"

"No, no way! I'm absolutely _not_ going to sit in the same cubicle with that fag all day every day."

"Mr. Whitstone! I must remind you of our company policy that all workers are to respect one another, not spread rumors, not call names, and NOT draw personal prejudices into the work place! Need I make myself any clearer?"

"N . . . No sir." Zack growled, menacing a frown deep enough to split the earth in two.

"Now, Zack. I know how much you dislike homosexuals. I myself can't understand them completely, but seeing as how you are going to be spending a lot of time with one, I suggest you get to know him on a friendlier basis than calling him a fag to his face -- or to anyone else's face for that matter. It'll make work far more pleasant for all of us, including yourself . . . now that we have that over with I suggest you get back to work. A new itinerary just arrived, and we have to get it sorted into the schedule by Friday."

Zack turned back to his desk and huffed so hard that it blew the papers across his desk haphazardly. Following a few minutes good brooding, he finally set to work and began cracking down, but Derrick's knack for annoying him never left his mind.

******

Zack walked into work the next morning in a mood more gruff than usual. Even the gossipy secretary didn't dare greet him as he passed the desk on his way down the hall. About halfway to his cubicle Mr. Haven pulled him aside by the arm.

"Uh, Zack? Derrick is in your cubicle at the moment. He has set up shop there because of his work schedule like I told you yesterday. Don't aggravate him, please??"

Zack's expression didn't get any worse, but it didn't get any happier either. He simply nodded and continued down the hallway, turning the corner into the entrance of his cubicle. The moment he set foot inside he stopped in horror. His previous freedom of leg-space was now occupied by a new chair, a desk divider, and an ancient monstrosity of a computer. It was all Zack could do to keep his head from exploding. He tromped over to his chair and slammed himself down into it, brooding as tiny little devils with pitchforks performed a hate-dance around Derrick in his mind. However, his enjoyable little reverie was rudely interrupted by the melodic and cheerful greeting of Derrick's voice.

"Hey Zack! How are you this morning?"

"mmnrgermlmible."

". . . . . . . I'm sorry, didn't quite catch that. Could you say that again a little louder?"

"I said mornnmnisfnmible."

"Oh . . . yeah, well, I fixed us some coffee. I hope you like decaf."

"I hate coffee."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Are you sure you don't want any? I'll put in plenty of sugar and cream to take the bittern-"

"I hate coffee."

"All right, all right, I can take a hint. Just seemed a shame to put it to waste . . ." Derrick said, putting his own coffee cup on his side of the desk, along with the cup prematurely made for Zack. "Is there something else that you like? Tea? Orange juice? I can get it fo-"

Zack released a deep, frustrated growl and squinted his eyes shut with clenched teeth. "No thank you! Just let me be!" With every passing moment, the little devils in Zack's head gained an extra pace of speed in their nasty little dance. The red dragon leaned forward and flicked on his computer, and found to his chagrin that the multiple-user account had been removed and it loaded up normally. "What were you doing on my computer again? You touched my computer!"

"Sorry. I figured you didn't want me on your computer so I took the account off again and brought in my own. Besides that, it isn't technically your computer. The company owns it."

Zack seethed with anger and unconsciously dug his claws into the desk in front of him.

"Just shut up; Just Shut Up!"

Derrick didn't reply. Instead he simply sighed and turned to his old 133 computer, studiously preparing the next evening's radio programs. Zack did likewise for his work and read through the reports, though in reality both of them were half-preoccupied by the presence of the other.

["That CLICKING!!! My _word_! Why on earth does he have to use that old keyboard? It makes too much noise! It's hard enough to concentrate with him around! The company's computer. Puh! I'm the only one that uses it. I was perfectly happy until HE showed up; him and his cock-sucking, butt-humping show host."]

["Why does he have to be so cross? For heaven's sakes, I've seen five-year-olds who are more mature than he is! It won't help to counter him; he'll just get madder because he's downright determined to hate all homosexuals. 'Don't answer a fool according to his folly.' Perhaps it's naïve of me to think this, but maybe he has some personal problems that are making him crabby. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt, but any more of this and I'll have to talk to Mr. Haven about it."]

["He's got a crush on me. I know it! He's just waiting to find some opportune moment to jump me and try to get me to lay him in bed! They're all like that. They don't care about anything but getting something shoved up their crack. I hate him!!! So help me, if he so much as touches me I'll pummel -- DRAT THIS DUMB COMPUTER!!!"]

Zack roared furiously as the printer began nonchalantly munching the few remaining clean sheets of paper he had, smearing ink over them and delivering them to the tray in a crumpled, sticky, heap. He began wildly grabbing at the pages and ripping them out of the printer's greedy mouth till he got to one that the printer refused to let go of. The more he tried to pull it out, the more the printer ate it, till finally the page tore in two. The printer screeched a few moments and then spat out its half with a triumphant "Snerk" noise. Zack whipped out the power chord and jerked open the lid, starting to rip into it like a savage beast. After a few moments of unsuccessful tries, Zack threw up his hands in defeat and sank into this chair. Derrick took pity and reached over. With a few quick movements of his fingers the tangled pages were free.

"There. I know how annoy-"

Zack shoved him back into his chair.

"It's not nearly as annoying as you are! I told you to leave me alone! Don't come near me, don't touch me, don't talk to me, don't do ANYTHING! I hate gays! You're a bunch of permanent sickos and I don't want you or your boyfriend trying to convert me into your little girly ways!"

"Well I like that! Here I am trying my best to be friendly and all you can do is throw it back in my face and accuse me of trying to make you gay???"

Zack snarled and leaned over to Derrick, his face twisted into a scowl.

"With a fag like you around, I don't know anyone who-"

"AHEM."

Zack stopped mid-sentence and swiveled his chair back to face his computer as Mr. Haven's throat silenced the onslaught. The wolf walked in carrying a stack of papers and audibly growled in Zack's direction. The red drake began to sulk in his chair and went about pulling up Excel to start working on some of his booking. The boss plunked the inch-thick stack of papers down beside the dragon and folded his arms.

"Mr. Whitestone, if I hear you verbally abusing any of our employees or colleagues today, I will make sure to let you off early and strike this week's pay off of your paycheck next month."

The statement earned an all-too-obvious cringe from Zack.

"Furthermore," The wolf continued, "The amount deducted from your paycheck will be sent to Derrick here as compensation." He smiled wryly at the end, but it went unnoticed by Zack who was again cringing hard and clenching his fists. Satisfied, Mr. Haven left them to go on about his business, but not before giving Derrick a don't-worry-about-him wink. Derrick stared at the now empty entrance to the cubicle for a few moments, and then smiled over at Zack with a triumphant sparkle in his eye.

"So, how about some orange juice?"