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Hehhey, folks, and welcome to The Hockey Hunk!

Another Monday an another chapter and...well...I don't have anything witty to say about it , except that you should definitely CHECK OUT THIS COOL AWESOME VICTOR FAN ART IF YOU DIDN'T YET!

Dobie In The Dark

This art is courtesies of the talented and generous :iconBuckSaber: - thank you for surprise! I think I'll know just the chapter where to feature this as cover art :P

As always, hope you enjoy the story and leave me lots of feedback - that is always appreciated. Also remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well.

Have a nice read!

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"Cobb, there's no way three furs are gonna be able to eat all this..." I shook my head for the Nth time while I observed the kitchen counter, loaded to capacity with plates and bowls by the extra busy paws of my brothers, still flying from place to place making little adjustments to whatever he thought was out of place.

"Oh shut up, you know how hungry footballers are," my brother replied, currently with his back to me while was rummaging through the fridge.

I let out a grumble.

"Two ex-high-school footballers, one of whom goes to the spa more often than to the gym," I observed, feeling hot under the collar of my freshly pressed black and blue striped shirt.

Cobb swirled around on his tiptoes and placed a Saran-wrapped bowl of salad onto the table next to a big plate full of what I supposed were called canapés. At least they had toothpicks stabbed through them.

"You know we used to terrorize that Wendy's when the entire team went there to pig ourselves out!" Cobb declared cheerfully as he tugged the Saran wrap away with his fingerpads. "My record was seven burgers in one go!"

"I don't see any burgers here," I noted.

Cobb pulled open the cabinet under the sink and deposited the used Saran wrap into the trashcan.

"Well you told me not to make them..." he intentionally made his eyes droop as he looked at me, rubbing his paws together as if he'd gotten something stuck on them.

I folded my arms over my chest.

"I told you that we should have something simple like burgers, but you insisted on this...what you call it..."

"A finger buffet!" Cobb declared. "A whole table of delicious choice bites of meat, vegetables, fruit, potato salad, cold pasta salad, cornbread, sirloin...and lots of beer!"

He reached out and slammed his paw against the fridge door, causing some muffled chinking of bottles from within. I was surprised it didn't leave a dent on the matte steel.

"I see," I rumbled. "I still think it's a bit much."

"Nonsense," Cobb shrugged. "I'll buy some fresh and chop up this stuff and add mayo to make really delicious sandwiches for lunch tomorrow!"

I shook my head.

"You know I'm going to help Rory move back to his own apartment tomorrow," I noted. "I'm probably not - "

A massive wave of his paw cut me off before I could finish my sentence.

"I'll pack you a doggy bag," he said. "Or I could even make you a whole hamper out of this stuff, if you'd have a suitable basket..."

His wavy paw moved to rub his chin as he looked around the kitchen as if searching for one right now, and I couldn't help but shake my head. I could see where this was going.

"I don't need to take food, Cobb, I'm sure there's plenty to begin with."

"But it'd be a nice surprise..."

"I can handle my own surprises, thanks," I replied, my paws going over my head in a stretch.

"Such a shame Rory couldn't be here tonight," Cobb continued his musings while he surveyed the array of food on the table.

I snorted.

"I thought we talked this thing through, Cobb," I said.

"But it still seems unfair...I'm sure Rory would've loved to meet Tate..."

But I wasn't sure whether Tate would've wanted to meet Rory...

"But this meeting is only about Tate getting to meet me and you," I said, "it's what I promised and it's what we'll do. Just brushing up some old memories."

And hopefully making some new ones that weren't as awkward as the rest. I could already feel sweat creeping down my back despite my best efforts at showering, applying deodorant and choosing a light shirt because the weather was still so damn warm outside. The air conditioning was barely keeping it down as it was.

"Well, still..." Cobb said, lingering a bit too long on that singular 'still' to make it a bit annoying. "Maybe he'd wanted to bring a date too..."

"He didn't mention a girlfriend so I presume he didn't have a date," I replied, "why, are you complaining that it's a stag night eh? Thought that's your favorite kind of a party."

Cobb made a face.

"All-dudes party gets weird to think about when you're involved..." he gave me a look.

I snorted.

"Oh give me a break!"

"It's true!" Cobb sounded defensive now. "Not knowing what goes on in those all-dudes all-gay parties..."

"You don't really want to know," I offered.

"Hell no!" Cobb grunted before his eyes jumped quickly to the wall clock. "Oh and it's almost seven, he should be here soon! Think there'd be time for a beer before he comes...hmm...."

"By all means," I said, "as long as you remember what we agreed about on drinking tonight..."

Cobb was halfway opening the fridge when he reacted to my words by flicking a sharp ear at me and shrugging.

"Yes, yes, 'it's not a kegger, Cobb', " he said in a strange voice I suppose was meant to be an imitation of my own speaking voice...accurateness of which I could not really verify. I decided not to pursue that topic further even as he grabbed a bottle, took out the opener, and clicked the cap off with a satisfying clatter against the kitchen counter.

"You better remember that," I said.

"Schluuuuuuuurp," Cobb downed one fourth of his beer in one gulp.

Almost seven. I wondered if Tate was punctual.

"You always worry too much," Cobb said. "BRUUUUUUUUUUGH!"

Hmmm...maybe Tate wouldn't mind a little bit of Doberman belching. I bet he'd seen Cobb do worse things during their all-night football team parties.

"I usually have my reasons to," I stated.

Cobb snapped his fingers.

"You think I'm gonna tell him that you're..."

"G-A-Y," I spelled it out.

Cobb wrinkled his nosepad.

"Well I did promise not to say a word about you or Rory or any other fishy business," Cobb said, "and I always keep my promises."

"Like you promised not to go to Rory's bookstore..."

Cobb shrugged, beer bottle waving in the air.

"Nothing happened!" he said. "Olivia's gonna love that weird Swedish book and you liked the boat magazine!"

"You made Rory feel embarrassed," I said, "you shouldn't have gone there."

"We already argued about this," Cobb huffed as he put his beer down and stepped forward to go through his dishes and pots again ,"I don't want to do it again."

He re-arranged a piece of parsnip on top of the salad and blocked me out, leaving me to stare at the top of his head for the moment.

I guess he was right. I suppose we had already had our match about that particular topic. Going for an encore just when we were supposed to be on our best behavior with our guest coming in was not something we ought to do, I thought. I bit back any further comments on the topic and decided to check the living room instead. It wasn't a big walk, really, nor a chore, just seeing that all the furniture was in order and that there wasn't any litter or dirty clothes around...like there weren't five minutes ago...all in order...hell, even the remote controllers looked like someone put a ruler on them to make sure they were all straight and nicely lined up...and that damn boat magazine was placed next to them...

Well, it all looked fine. Just your typical bachelor pad with a temporarily live-in brother. Hopefully the chairs were suitable and comfortable for Tate...knowing he now had that leg problem...I wondered if there was anything I had to do to make it easier for him to move around. He didn't mention any limitations but I guess, knowing he now had a false leg...were there any snags on the carpet? I decided to give it another round.

"Now where did I put those grapes...gotta have grapes..."

BUZZZZZ.

My ears perked.

"Guess that's him," I rumbled as I moved over to the intercom and pressed the button down. "Hello? Tate?"

"Hello? Hello?"

_ _

It was hard to say anything about that tinny voice yet. I could barely make out the words.

"Yeah, it's me, Victor, I'll just open the door! Do you remember the apartment number?"

"Yeah, yeah, hello, Victor!"

_ _

"See you soon!"

I hit the door buzzer again to open the door, and then released the intercom button.

"Well that's him", I said as I stepped back over to the living room from the hallway.

"Great!" Cobb grinned widely. "Everything is ready here, just need the guest of honor!"

"Well it won't be long now."

"I hope he'll like this..." Cobb gave his service another frantic look. "What if he's allergic to something or something?"

"We'll see in just a moment," I rumbled.

Time seemed to run really slowly while I paced back and forth a few times, Cobb hummed a few bars of Adele, and I tugged on my sleeves to make sure that I was neat and comfortable. The cloth had glued itself against my shoulderblades. Having it move was a relief. Much nicer. I creaked my neck from side to side, too, and adjusted my glasses. I felt more comfortable wearing them now. Maybe my eyesight had gotten worse.

Ding-dong.

"Ohhhh..." Cobb's ears flicked rapidly.

"I'll get the door," I was already on the move, "Let's not pounce the guy, eh?"

Cobb pouted briefly, at least as long as he was in sight before I walked into the hallway and stopped behind the door, for just a moment, to catch my breath, before I took off the safety chain and opened the locks and then...

"Hello?"

Brown eyes...long foxy muzzle...cropped headfurs...an oversized white T-shirt...

"Hello!" I smiled.

More of the fox was revealed when the door was fully opened. I saw the slim arms, one of them holding a crutch, and he was wearing cargo pants that probably weren't the most comfortable thing to wear in this weather, and some white sneakers with black laces...

I had to remind myself to look into his face.

"Victor...well...wow..." the fox breathed out.

I shrugged.

"Well that's me," I said in a soft rumble, "good evening!"

"Evening..."

"Well," I stepped to the side, "come on right in, there's someone else to meet you right here!"

He walked with short strides, into the hallway, and his bushy foxy tail had just cleared the door before I pulled it shut, and judging by the noises coming from behind me, the avalanche of Cobb was well on its way.

"RA RA RA HUR-RAH-AAH!"

That old goddamn football chant...

"LOOK AT YOU MAN!"

I finished with the door and turned around, only to find Cobb standing there with a whole armful of Tate, practically lifted off the ground while Cobb was grinning madly and patting his back and generally looking like he'd just discovered he was the secret heir to a chocolate factory. It was kinda hard to tell what Tate was thinking...I could only see his tail and his ears from this angle, and all three were flicking prominently...so maybe he wasn't yet finding The Cobb too much to handle...just.

"Ohhhh maaaaan..."

"He...hello..."

"Well let the guy down, Jesus!" I chuckled.

Cobb gently lowered the fox back to the floor, all flicking ears and tail, looking at him quite curiously still, while Cobb beamed.

"Oh maaaan," he patted Tate's shoulder, "I can't believe I'm seeing old Tate Michaels in the flesh again..."

"But there you are," I commented.

The fox stepped a foot away from Cobb and gave him another look before glancing over to me, those eyes seemingly full of that good old vulpine curiosity. The eyes seemed so much older than the last time I saw them...what...13 years ago? They seemed older than just that.

"And here're the Holden brothers..." Tate noted, looking at each of us in turn again.

Cobb winked.

"And we're prettier than evaaaaar," he grinned. "Or at least I am..."

I remembered to harrumph properly.

"Of course he says that," I rumbled.

"You big pussy," Cobb showed his tongue at me. "Well let's not just get stuck here, we've got so much food waiting, it's gonna take us all night to eat everything...and drink everything...heheheh...just take your shoes off and..."

Tate's tail tucked between his legs as he stood there, leaning on that singular crutch. It kinda reminded me a bit of how Rory walked with one crutch, after the accident.

"Well I'm actually supposed to keep them on all the time...better...grip...on the floor..." he glanced down at his footpaws, quickly.

Cobb's eyes snapped down to the fox's lower body, and only then did I realize. Footpaws. He only had one now...well...one real, and one...whatever they were made of. I couldn't help but look down at those pants-covered legs and those sneakers...almost imagining what was beneath them...

It was too quiet. Cobb was quiet, too, and the moment felt like it was dragging on...with clear possibility that it could turn awkward in about 5 seconds, if I didn't act.

"Well, of course!" I stated loudly. "Whatever is most comfortable with you!"

"Thank you, Victor," he gave me a smile.

"I better try to find those grapes," Cobb muttered before he hurried away.

"Same old Cobb," I said in my best nonchalant voice.

"Yeah...." the fox's eyes lingered in the empty space previously occupied by my brother. "Quite..."

I stepped closer and extended my paw.

"Good to see," I said. "Tate."

The fox looked almost surprised, but offered his own paw. I gripped the smaller limb and gave it a good, manly squeeze.

"Victor."

"You're welcome," I knew I was repeating myself, but it felt the most appropriate thing to say.

"Thank you."

"Hope you're hungry," I said, "Cobb has cooked something outrageous."

"Yeah?" his eyes perked a little.

"You'll see," I smiled.

I followed him as he walked in. There was a small limp that I could notice, subtle, I guess, but noticeable enough that I decided not to look more. Cobb had already positioned himself behind the counter again, read to act the chef, I thought. Beer bottles had appeared, too, though Cobb's previously half-drunk one was absent.

"BEER TIME!" Cobb bellowed, reaching for a bottle.

"Well one never did you any harm," the fox noted as he slowly made his way towards my madly grinning brother.

"That's a man to my taste!" Cobb grinned as he uncapped the bottle with theatrical flair, not sparing any foam.

"Thanks, man," the fox replied as he took the offered bottle.

"VICTOR, BEER!"

"Alright, Cobb..." I padded over.

"Do you need to take a seat?" Cobb asked, looking firmly at the foxy guest. "Are you tired? Victor told me about your problem with your leg, if you'd prefer to go to sit in the living area..."

"I'm fine, thanks," the fox replied, clutching his beer in his free paw, "I'm supposed to walk as much as possible, to keep myself in shape. I'm quite fine."

"Well as long as you'll feel fine!"

No fussing, Cobb...he asked for no fuss...

_ _

"Thank you, Cobb."

My brother beamed. I adjusted my sleeves.

"Hope you like both salty AND sweet, because I've got plenty of both here!" Cobb kept on grinning.

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Thank you for reading my story! Hope you enjoyed the read, and hope you'll feel like commenting now as well! Remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!

See you on Friday!