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"I had you."

Kit hopped from paw to paw, his entire body twitching. My ears folded at the sight of him so agitated. Kit was one of the stillest ferrets I'd ever known, and seeing him this bouncy, outside of sex, had me worried. I ran my tongue over my whiskers and tried to meet his gaze. My mind raced, but before I could respond, he spun away and stormed off between two trailers. With a worried swish of my tail, I took off after him.

"Com'on," I called. "It wasn't that bad!"

He didn't answer as we passed the rest of the garage. Like any Stock Car Racing Association double header weekend, it was a busy place as Grand National teams packed up their equipment and Cup teams either assisted or were making final preparations for their race tomorrow. A few people looked up briefly at us as we went past, but there was no real interest beyond Doug Clauson.

"Interviews!" the Cup driver hollered after us. "Don't be too long!"

"Won't be!" I yelled.

I didn't see the coyote's reaction, but given that he was the Grand National Series' unofficial Dad when he was racing with us, I could easily imagine him shaking his head with his ears folded. I'd seen it often enough to know it, and the muttering of "cubs" that went with it. I picked up my pace to go after Kit. My ferret finally stopped as he reached the motor coach lot. He turned and growled at me.

"Fuck off, Jon. I'm not in the mood."

Instinctively, I swiveled and looked around. I didn't see or hear anyone. I sniffed, even though I knew it was useless. Scent was always difficult at the race track--too many strong aromas from race cars to trust smell completely. All I could smell was the hot metal, high octane fuel fumes, and burnt rubber, but I was sure enough that we were alone to risk transitioning from "friend" to "boyfriend."

"Com'on. You were in the mood this morning. It's been long enough that we could do another lap."

Kit gave me his trademark glare, his mask shrinking to a thin line across his face as his eyes bored into me. "That's not what I was talking about! And I don't feel like that either."

"Not that we have time for it now," I replied. "Well. Maybe a quick grope in the shower..."

"No. Shower by yourself. I'm not in the mood."

"Not in the mood for weasel? Why?"

"You know why!" He huffed, his whole body shaking before he turned and slunk towards his trailer. "Goddamnit! Why'd you have to fuck up my car?"

I followed after, my head hung in shame. "It wasn't on purpose! And it's not like you haven't done it to me before. I don't get why you're so mad."

We'd reached Kit's trailer, in the premo spot his champion status earned him on the edge of the lot away from the flow of traffic. He put one paw on the door handle before turning back to face me.

He huffed. "I'm pissed."

I cocked my head and stared at him. He was returning my gaze with his small ears folded. There was an air of disappointment in his gold eyes, and from the way they wouldn't quite meet mine, I wondered if all of it was directed at me. I frowned at him. As Clauson reminded us, we didn't have a lot of time before we had to be at the media center for more post-race interviews. We could get out of our firesuits and maybe grab a quick shower since I'd thrown in money to get fancy air fur dryers in Kit's coach. But we wouldn't have time for that and a lover's spat, and I wasn't going to let this hang over us. It needed to be sorted out.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry Dave," I said with a sigh, letting my head and shoulders droop again. "For whatever it was."

My ferret cocked his head at me and just stared. Calling him Dave told him I was serious--the only people that called him by his given name anymore where his parents. I felt my heart hammering in my chest as I studied my driving shoes. I honestly didn't get why he was as upset as he was. We'd raced each other hard like this plenty of times. Hell, we'd spun each other out before--though never on purpose. Of course, all that had been before we started dating.

Kit shook his head and finally opened the door to his coach. "Get in here."

He went in, and I followed after a quick look around. No one was around. Of course, Kit had offered to let other drivers take advantage of his shower, and more importantly the fur dryers, before--so it wasn't too out of place that he'd let an old friend do so. Even if he was mad at them. I locked the door behind me all the same, and did some math in my head as I bounced up the two steps into the coach proper.

I checked my watch to see how much of the half an hour between race end and media interviews we had left. Here at Buckeye Raceway, the media center was closer to the garage than the driver's lot... so counting travel time we had fifteen minutes to do whatever. Of course, it wasn't like the pre-race drivers meeting where SCRA would penalize you for missing it or being late--but it was still bad form. Especially for the reigning Grand National champion and the current points leader. We could sort this out in that time.

Kit unzipped his firesuit and sat down on the couch to start untying his shoes. I took the chair across from him and began doing the same. I watched Kit, admiring his close trimmed white and dirty black fur that showed off his lean frame. Even upset, he was still handsome. I must have been smiling, because when he looked up he frowned.

"I know that look," he said with a sigh. "Cut it out. I'm still mad at you."

I let my gaze drift over him. Normally, Kit was very calm and still. But not now. Anger for him was a high energy state: he would shake or bounce, and his tail would be in constant motion. His tiny ears would droop too when he was upset. He was sitting there, vibrating with his tail flicking across the floor as he pulled his shoes off. I hadn't seen him this angry in over a year. I remembered what had calmed him down then--calling him handsome for the first time. Maybe something similar would work here?

"Still haven't told me what about," I countered. I could feel what Kit had dubbed "weaseling" rising inside me--the urge to be silly and sneaky. But I couldn't let it out until I understood what the problem was. "I already apologized. Look. I'll get dinner tonight to make up for it. You pick the place."

"That's not the point!" Kit chittered as he stood and stepped out of his firesuit. He put his paws on his hips, his teeth bared, as menacing as a ferret in just his briefs can be. "The point is that you knew I had you beat. So you put the block on me and damn near wrecked us. Not to mention screwing up my paint scheme!"

Finally, he seemed to have spent all his energy. His head hung and he finally went still as he studied the floor. "I thought if anyone was going to cut me slack--make me look good-- it would be my boyfriend."

I stared at him, my own body going still. So that was it. I blinked a few times, and he looked up at me as the silence became awkward. I swallowed, trying to get moisture back in my mouth. He thought that what happened on the track...showed what I thought about us. "It's just a race, hon."

His eyes locked on mine, and a twitch ran through his whole body. His muzzle opened and closed, but no words came out. I watched him, waiting. A shudder and the heat of anger ran through me. I jumped up, my own firesuit falling to the floor. We were nose to nose, like two wrestlers in those staged standoffs they have. I bared my teeth and chittered. Kit's anger flared again, and he growled at me. I snorted.

"Jesus Fox, Kit! Really? If I'm supposed to treat you like a boyfriend when we're racing, why shouldn't I all the time? Go into interviews and get asked 'Tell us about that contact with Kit in Turn Two.' 'Well it wasn't as hard as I rammed his ass last night.'"

Kit's muzzle flopped open and his eyes widened. He went still, and I wondered if I'd gone too far. I didn't back down and kept my nose an inch from his. I watched the wheels turning in his mind. The rage flickered, but remained. He looked away first. I sighed as my own anger faded. "That's not what you want, Wiggles."

"Maybe," he huffed. "But I can still beat you."

"Oh really?" I cocked my head. He was still mad, but we were playing a game now. I knew I had to do something to make up for dinging his car, to show I loved him, but that would come later. "And what are you going to beat me at now?"

Silence. Kit looked at the floor while I kept my gaze on him. Then the little flick of his tail and shiver up his spine told me he'd made a decision. His eyes snapped back to mine.

"I can get you off before you get me off. And I'll prove it. Right now."