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Dane absently wiped the wine glass in his hand with a rag that was mostly clean, staring at the nearly empty bar. The place died down a lot after about 8 pm; the dinner-and-drinks crowd were dispersing, and the late-night drinkers had yet to come in. Of the twenty-two tables in the roomy converted warehouse, only four were currently occupied.

The building had been bought on the cheap by the owner, a brilliant Ysoki named Noriko Hara. The money she'd saved on purchasing a run-down warehouse, she'd put into renovations--many of which had been done by Dane's mother's construction firm--and advertisement. A few parchment flyers had been a surprisingly effective tool to get the place up and running. The Feral Barrel had already been going for five years when Dane applied. That was three years ago, now. And to think, just a year later, he'd meet his best friend, and two years after that, he'd be swallowing his best friend's cum--

He nearly dropped the wine glass when a voice beside him made him jump out of his fur.

"Copper piece for your thoughts, cutie," Clara Tika purred next to him. The lithe, feline Sekhet leaned against the bar on her elbows, thick eyelashes batting at him. Dane noticed she was barely wearing clothing again. The Feral Barrel technically had a dress code, but Clara always managed to skirt the line between dress code violation and barely-covered sex goddess with a level of skill Dane would never understand. Noriko had only ever made a handful of attempts to get the Sekhet to cover up, and always half-hearted. Dane couldn't blame her lack of assertion; Clara brought in a helluva lot of customers with her nearly crotch-level brown shorts, white sports bra, and tight crimson vest that managed to amplify her otherwise modest chest. Despite being much lankier than Dane preferred, Clara practically oozed a sexual confidence that made her seem less bony and more lithe and agile.

"Holy shit, Clara," Dane breathed, clutching his chest. "Give a guy a heart attack, sneaking up like that!"

"Mm," she answered with a nonchalant shrug. Her eyes drifted down to Dane's pants because of course they did. They always did. He felt the heat rise in his face. "Do those usually come with heart attacks?" She nodded at his crotch, and Dane looked down to see his cock sneaking down the left leg of his uncomfortably tight pants as it slowly engorged from his daydream about draining Bertie's balls earlier.

Dane stepped forward so the bar hid his erection as his face basically lit on fire. Damn muggy-ass warehouse, he thought irritably. Because of course that was what it was. Muggy warehouse. His shirt was basically plastered to him, after all. Eight PM and still over ninety degrees outside. He cleared his throat and went back to polishing the glass. "Don't you have anything better to do?" he said a little more gruffly than he'd intended.

Thankfully, Clara didn't seem offended. She chuckled and waggled her empty drink tray. "Need two rainbow bowls and a Vithian Venom for Table Six."

Glad to have something to do, Dane turned to the wall behind him where six huge kegs lay on their sides, already tapped. Next to them, several long shelves held dozens of different glass liquor bottles. He snatched up three bottles in two hands, dropped them on the bar, and whipped out two short, wide glasses. He opened the ice box next to him and drew out two small scoops of chopped ice, dumped them into the glasses, and began mixing the liquors. He ended with a splash of cherry liqueur and a dose of lemonade to smooth out the flavor a little. The different colors swirled merrily in the glasses. Not exactly a rainbow, but he supposed he understood the naming convention, nonetheless. He then grabbed a wooden pint mug and went to the second tap, marked VITHIAN VENOM PALE ALE in bold paint, and filled it up. The whole thing had taken him a little over a minute.

"Not bad," Clara said as she set the drinks on her tray. "I remember when it took you five minutes to make one rainbow bowl and now look at you. I swear you get faster every day. Just don't get too fast," she added with a wink, and sauntered off toward her table.

Dane couldn't help but stare at her ass as she walked. For someone with no meat on her bones, her cheeks were surprisingly shapely. Knock it off, he thought irritably.She's old enough to be your mother. Which, while technically true, was unfair of him. She was thirteen years older, which wasn't that big of a gap, and she was gorgeous, with sleek, dark-gray fur that was nearly black, huge golden eyes and heavy lids, and legs that went on for days.

She's also your mother's best friend. Also not much of an argument; Mom had actually made insinuating jokes more than once about the two of them, and seemed to find no end of amusement at her son's flustered rebuttals. She'd even come out and asked, once, why he didn't reciprocate Clara's flirtation. That had been one of many arguments. He loved Mom, but she was absolutely clueless about her son.

"All kidding aside, sweetie," she'd said while she and Alan did the dishes after a family dinner, "she would be great for you. I think you could use an older woman in your life to take care of you. No offense, but you're kind of terrible at that."

"I don't need someone to 'take care of me,' Mom," Dane had rebutted. "I'm twenty-six, I think I can handle doing my own laundry."

"Can't cook worth a damn, though," his older brother said with a smirk as he scrubbed a cast-iron pan. "Next time I'm over, Dad cooks. You're a fucking menace."

"Language, dear," Mom said as she swatted Alan's arm. "Point is, you could still use some looking after. And Clara's, ah... How do I put this? She's got your appetite." She smirked at him as she said it, and Dane's face heated up like she'd thrown it in a bonfire.

"Mom!"

She raised her hands defensively with a chuckle. "Look, it's only natural, hon, but I remember how often you'd bring your girlfriends around back when you were still in school. I'm just saying Clara could definitely keep up with you. You should _hear_the stories she tells me--"

"Mom!" Dane and Alan said in unison.

"Freaking... TMI, Mom, seriously," Alan grumbled, scrubbing a little harder. "And besides, while I agree that Dane is a lazy bum, I think Clara's a little old for him."

"And what's wrong with being old?" Mom put her fists on her ample hips. A casual observer might simply look at Marina Bennett and see wide hips and an ample belly and bosom from birthing three children, but Dane knew that under the fat from a comfortable life were layers of muscle from her job as a construction worker. Nobody poured concrete with Mari's level of skill.

Alan snerked, which made Mari scowl. As usual, Dane had to save his brother. "Nothing, Mom. Nothing's wrong with being old. Clara's a beautiful woman. As are you. As is Alan."

"Fuck you."

"But," he continued, ignoring his brother, "she's looking to settle down. I'm not. And she's monogamous. I'm polyamorous. It's a bad mix."

He knew as soon as he said it that the conversation was about to go downhill. Mari folded her arms across her thick chest--Dane still had no idea how she was even physically capable of doing that--and gave him her best Disappointed Look. "That word again. You just need to find the right girl--"

"Or guy," Alan interjected cheerfully.

"Not helping, Alan," Dane growled.

"Or guy," Mari agreed gracefully. "You're young, you don't know what you want yet."

It was all Dane could do not to start yelling. He crossed his own arms and glared. "It's not a fucking phase, Mom. It's a philosophy. I've known since I was eight that I was poly. Hells, I knew that before I knew--" He stopped, clamped his mouth shut, and swallowed. His throat suddenly felt very dry. "Before uh... before I knew my numbers."

Alan glanced up from the sink with a considering look, then went back to washing dishes. If Marina caught the slip-up, she didn't show it. She was staring down her nose now, despite being two inches shorter than her son. "It's nonsense and you know it. It's an excuse to go fooling around on your girlfriend without feeling guilty, and frankly Dane, you aught to know better."

Now Dane did start yelling. "Screw you. You have no right to judge my lifestyle. And clearly_I'm not using it as an excuse to cheat on my partners, because if I was, I'd just date Clara and fuck around behind her back. I _specifically only date other polyamorous people so that doesn't happen. I can't believe I'm hearing such narrow-minded garbage from you. I thought you were better than that."

Dane knew he'd regret saying it later, but in the moment, he only felt a mean warmth in his chest as he saw the hurt on his mother's face. She'd attacked his beliefs, and he felt vindicated that he'd struck a blow back.

"I'm tired," she said icily. "I think I'll go to bed. Goodnight."

"Bye," Dane said in a sarcastic, sing-song voice. Mari strode past him and slammed the bedroom door shut.

Alan glared at Dane. "Dude. What the fuck."

Dane jabbed a finger at his older brother. "Don't even fucking start with me." He stormed out of the kitchen before his brother could protest, passing his father asleep on the couch in the den before throwing open the front door and slamming it shut behind him.

* * *

Dane sighed as he grabbed an ice pick and started working on the ice block at the bottom of the icebox. It seemed like he couldn't have a normal conversation with his mother ever. They were just too different of people, he supposed. He'd always gotten along better with Dad. In fact, he was pretty sure he was the only one who got along better with Dad than Mom. Alan shared Mom's modesty, and Dad regularly wandered around the house naked when it was hot enough. Dane did the same in his own place, but he would bet hard money that the only time Alan Bennett was completely naked was when he showered. Even then, Dane wouldn't be surprised to find that Alan bathed with swim trunks on.

Daria was absolutely unlike either of her (their, dammit Dane!) parents. Daria had Dad's propensity for laziness when not working, and Mom's extroversion, but they were definitely marching to their own drum, as Mom would say. Dane and Thomas Bennett were like peas in a pod. He was pretty sure Dad was also the only other family member who smoked, and he regularly got his weed from his father. Probably drove Mom up a wall, but considering Marina Bennett's propensity for red wines, she didn't have much room to judge.

He stopped picking at the ice and set the tool aside with a defeated grunt. Here he was, throwing jabs at Mom again. He knew it was unfair; she loved him and wanted what she thought was best for him. He couldn't say that if he had kids, he could do any better. She just made it so damn hard not to get frustrated with her--

"Yo! Anybody home?"

Dane looked up, blinking in surprise, to see Noriko waving both her tiny rat claws at him. The owner of the Feral Barrel stood a full two feet shorter than Dane, and her curvy figure was stuffed into a slightly undersized pair of brown pants, white shirt, and red vest. It ought to have made her look like a mushroom, but somehow simply complimented her curves instead. The whiskers jutting off her short muzzle waggled above her two oversized incisors, and her shock of dyed purple and blue head fur was buzzed down on the left side, where a puckered scar could be seen. She'd had it as long as Dane had known her, and despite his curiosity, he'd never thought it appropriate to ask.

Right now, her little nose twitched irritably, making her silver nostril piercing jiggle. "I don't care how cute you are, Dane, I don't pay you to daydream. Did you hear a word I just said?"

Dane cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh. No. Sorry, Miss Hara."

She laughed. "I swear to Grandmother Rat, you call me Miss Hara one more damn time..." She shook her head, no longer able to maintain her anger at him. "Look, just try to keep your ears open, okay? We're almost out of middle-shelf vodka up front. I'm trying a new brand tonight so grab a couple bottles from the back and make sure to push vodka drinks, see how people take it. I've got a veggie stir fry to make for Table Seventeen and I need you to actually be paying attention once the late rush comes in. They'll be here any minute." She cocked her head at him and surprised him by asking, "You okay, hon?"

He shrugged. "I should be. Had an amazing afternoon. But for some reason, I've been thinking about... about stuff. And it's making me... I dunno. Melancholy, I guess." He shook his head and grinned. "I'll be fine. Once the bar bums get in, I'll be too busy busting my ass to get all mopey."

She frowned, then walked over and took his hand. It was a little awkward, considering how much shorter she was; he kind of felt like he was holding a child's hand. "Tell you what, hon. I'll close a little early tonight and you can tell me all about it over a drink."

Dane's cheeks heated up. "I, uh... I can't. I kinda have someone waiting for me at home."

She gave a slow, knowing nod. "Bertie?" Dane's eyes widened and he gulped. She grinned. "About freaking time. You two have been dancing around that forever. Clara's gonna be devastated she lost the pool. Guess I gotta pay up to Terry."

Dane blinked. "Th-the what?"

Noriko nodded sagely. "Mm. A bunch of us had a pool going on how long it'd take for you guys to bang."

Dane didn't know whether to be furious or amused. "Wh---a pool?? How long ago was this?"

Noriko tapped a claw to her chin, scratching the slate-colored fur. "Uhm, six months ago?"

Dane buried his face in his hands. "Not helping my mood, Noriko."

Instead of looking repentant, she giggled and hugged his waist. "Sweetie, everybody wanted to see you two get together. Well, except maybe Clara. I think she wants you all to herself." She winked up at Dane, who slumped his shoulders. "My point is, take it as a compliment. We're happy for you! Well, maybe not Zach. He bet on you goofballs hooking up like, immediately. He lost the pool four months ago." She snickered. "Sucker."

Dane sighed and returned the hug. "Worst boss ever."

"Yeah, probably. But at least I'm hot."

"Can't argue with that," Dane said as he gave her one last squeeze. "If you weren't my boss, I'd tear your clothes off every shift and rail you on the bar in front of everyone."

She swatted his leg as she headed back into the kitchen. "If I wasn't your boss, I might let you."

Dane grunted. Dammit, there went his boner again.

* * *

Dane slumped into a leather-covered stool at the front of the bar with a whiskey-ginger in front of him. The late rush had finally left, the doors were closed, and he fully intended to sip the hell out of his drink and go home. His brain was absolute putty, as it usually was by eleven. Clara sat down next to him with a half-full glass of Pinot in front of her. "Bloody savages," she grunted. "All that crap about women's restrooms being cleaner than men's? Doesn't apply to bars, apparently. Some bitch puked all over the toilet seat. Zach just finished cleaning it up, finally."

"And clinics," Dane added, sipping his drink.

Clara looked at him. "Eh?"

"Clinics," he repeated. "I worked as a janitor at the clinic downtown for a few months just out of school. I didn't stay long; couldn't handle it. Grossest job I ever had. You have no idea what goes into cleaning a surgical suite. It's intense. Anyway, the women's restrooms were almost always as bad as the men's. And a surprisingly equal amount of blood in both," he added thoughtfully.

"Gross," Clara said flatly, and finished off her wine in one gulp. Dane just nodded in agreement. She turned to him with a small smile. "Mind walking me home? I'm not far. We could have a night cap."

Dane cleared his throat. "Ah. Actually, I... kind of have a guest. They're waiting for me to get off work. Happy to walk you home, though. Crescent Haven is hardly a den of thieves, but it can't hurt for a lovely lady to have an escort."

Clara almost managed to hide her disappointment behind a deep, pleasant purr. "Charmer. Can't say I'm not jealous of your guest. Anyone I know?"

"Yes," Dane said.

When he didn't elaborate, Clara pursed her lips. "Fair enough. Don't keep them waiting. I'll get Zach to walk with me. Night, cutie." She kissed his cheek and sauntered off. The seat was almost immediately occupied again by a significantly smaller butt as Noriko hauled a pint mug up onto the bar.

"Whew. Damn thing weighs a ton."

Dane gave the mug an appraising glance before raising an eyebrow at Noriko. "Sure you're not trying to compensate for something?"

"Stuff it," she growled, but there was a playful twinkle in her eye. "Okay, so spill. What's got you down?"

Dane shrugged uncomfortably and sipped his drink. He was never good at this, the whole articulating your feelings thing. It always felt like a jumbled mess in his brain and he was trying to piece it together with palsied hands.

"Well," Noriko offered, hooking an arm through his and hefting her mug one-handed (an impressive feat considering the size ratios involved), "seems to me like whatever went down with you and Bertie earlier has something to do with it. I mean it must, if your mood swing happened mere hours after... what did you two do, anyway?" She looked at him with unabashed curiosity. Noriko wasn't much for personal boundaries, he'd discovered. He lost count in the first month how many times she'd groped his ass in the pantry, and she didn't stop at physical boundaries. She loved hearing about other people's escapades. Dane suspected it was a full-blown kink for her.

He cleared his throat. "Well, he was kinda the reason I was late. I was a little busy, um... sucking him off." His cheeks burned as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Fuck, that's hot," Noriko whispered. She took a long pull off her mug. Dane wondered where she was even going to put that much alcohol. "So are you, like... just into guys, or...?" He thought maybe he saw something in the question beyond good-natured teasing. "I only ask as a professional courtesy. I would stop gripping your ass like a vice every time you bend over in the stock room, for example. With great reluctance, but I'd still do it." He knew she would, too. Clara had taken a pretty no-nonsense tone with the Ysoki when she'd first started, apparently, and Noriko had respected the Sekhet's wishes ever since.

"I still like girls too," Dane said, and pretended not to hear his boss breathe a sigh of relief, then hiccup in embarrassment when she caught herself doing it. "You are free to grope to your heart's content, Miss Hara."

She slapped his thigh. "I told you to stop that, jerk." She left her hand there. It was awfully close to his increasing erection.

He looked at the clock over the bar and swallowed. He should be getting back to Bertie. He wanted to swallow more of his friend's hot load, then bury himself to the hilt inside that thick ass until he... er... anyway. He wanted to. So why was he sitting here delaying instead of going home?

"I'm scared to be queer," he said finally. Gods, that really was it. He was scared of what he was. What it could mean. Crescent Haven was a relatively small town. People here could be... well... not like him.

Noriko squeezed his thigh. "I know. It terrified me when I realized I was bisexual. I'd heard some scary stuff. The openly gay professor who went missing and the Watch never bothered to look for him. The lesbian Vithis girl who was raped half to death when I was a kid. She said her attackers were going to 'straighten her out.' The Watch never made any arrests. So I get it. It's scary. I mean, I know things have gotten better since we were kids, but that fear is always there. But don't let that fear keep you from being who you are, okay?" She was looking directly at him now, with an intensity he'd never seen on her before.

Dane gathered her up into a hug and squeezed. She grunted at the sudden pressure, but returned the gesture enthusiastically. They held the embrace for several moments, Noriko's tiny claw gently brushing up and down his lower back soothingly. Damn, that felt nice. It made it hard to stop holding her...

Eventually, she finally pulled away, and he reluctantly did the same, though the fact that she looked as disappointed as he felt that the contact had ended made him feel a little better. "Shouldn't you, uh..." She cleared her throat and her whiskers danced cutely as her nose twitched. "Shouldn't you get home to Bertie? He's probably waiting for you."

Dane snorted. "He probably smoked all my stash and passed out." And he probably had, too, but that didn't mean he shouldn't get home when he said he'd be there. Besides, it might be fun to wake Bertie up with another blowjob... "Yeah. Yeah, I should get going." He downed the last of his drink and set it on the bar. "But..." Ah, hells. It was a day for ballsy decisions, apparently. He looked at Noriko. "Would fire me if I kissed you right now?"

Noriko hiccuped with wide eyes. "N-no," she stammered. "But you really shouldn't. I'm still your boss. It wouldn't be right for me to do that. It's a principle thing. What if I started giving you preferential treatment, or--?"

Dane cut her off. "Boss, you've been groping me and flirting with me and doing just about everything except fucking me since I started here. You've made it pretty clear you want me, and you haven't given me any preferential treatment yet. In fact, I'd go so far as to say you yell at me more than anybody except maybe Bertie."

She blushed. "I know, it's just... I mean..." She was scrambling for excuses not to do what they both wanted to do. He felt a little guilty; she wasn't wrong, after all. It was a good principle. But servicing his best friend and giving himself no release had made him pent up and making poor decisions. This was a terrible idea and he knew it.

He sighed and took her hand, squeezing a little. "It's okay. You're right. I shouldn't have pushed it. If you ever change your mind, though, just know I want it too."

Noriko looked both relieved and disappointed. He supposed he must look about the same, since that was how he felt. He hugged her again, but this time he couldn't help but plant a small, light kiss just under her ear when he did. She shuddered and gripped him tighter, nuzzling the top of her head into his neck. Goddammit, what had he just said to himself?

He very reluctantly pulled away. "Goodnight, Miss Hara," he said with a rueful smile.

She grinned at him. "Asshole."

* * *

He left the Feral Barrel feeling even more pent-up than before, but now also frustrated and a little confused. She'd wanted it! Wanted him! Why hadn't he just taken her then and there?

You know why, dummy. You really are something else, only ever thinking of yourself. And it would have been selfish, too. No thought for Bertie, waiting at his apartment, probably scared as Hells about having admitted his feelings. And no thought for Noriko, for that matter. She'd have to work with him every day afterward, trying to maintain her professionalism through all that awkwardness. Not that she had much professionalism to begin with--hence all the butt grabbing--but still. This would be different. It would have changed things. And all he could do was think about his dick and how badly he needed to shove it into something. It never ceased to amaze him how little Anthropa had actually changed from their feral cousins. Some Awakening, he thought miserably as he walked home at an awkward gait. He couldn't hit his normal stride because it caused his pants to squeeze painfully against his erection. He'd outgrown the pants months ago, but couldn't afford new ones. Every time he thought about buying new pants, he'd forget about the task by the time his bi-weekly pay came around and suddenly he'd have a full stash, paid rent, and a few coins left for groceries, with nothing left for an updated wardrobe.

Ugh. Mom had been right, he was utterly irresponsible.

Thankfully he didn't have to dwell on that particular thought overlong. He only lived a five-minute walk from work, so he was at the stairs to his building before he knew it. He glanced at the small puddle on the sidewalk in front of the steps, which now teemed with ants. The faint orange glow of the incandescent streetlamps cast the miniscule insects in an eerie hue. Dane hurried into the building before his landlord could catch him and yell at him for the sugary ant trap on his front walk. Never mind that Cleo had no proof it was Dane who'd done it, he'd know all the same.

Dane dipped up the stairs and stopped at #7. He frowned; he couldn't hear anything in the apartment. Bertie really had gotten too high and passed out. Figured. He chuckled to himself and slipped inside.

All the lights were off. That was odd; normally when he got high he forgot to turn off at least one of the three rooms, but the apartment was dark. He flicked the ignition on the wall and the wall lamps flickered to light. The building was too old to support the new electric incandescent lights like they had out on the street, so it still used gas lights. But each apartment had its own separate gas line for each room, so it had been top-of-the-line not twenty years ago.

He looked around the living room/kitchenette combination. No sign of Bertie, aside from a couple dried spots on the tile floor where his friend had dribbled after he'd came. Dane's mouth watered from the memory, and he slipped into his bedroom and turned on the light.

The bedroom was empty.

Dane's heart sank.

A small piece of paper was folded up under his favorite rock on his desk. Dane pulled it out and read it.

Dane,

_ I'm sorry I'm cutting and running like this but I got scared. I hope you're not mad. I really wanted to wait for you but the longer I wait here alone the more I'm freaking out about what happened. I'm so sorry and if you hate me now I understand but if you don't then I really want to_

At this point there was a long line of scribbled out words where he'd apparently started to write several different things and then scratched them out. It finally continued:

do stuff with you again. If you want. I'm really really really really really really really sorry please don't be mad.

Your friend (I hope),

_ Bertie_

Dane didn't realize he was crying until the ink on the paper started to splotch and run. He'd left. Of all the possible outcomes tonight, this hadn't even crossed his mind. How could he not have seen this coming? Bertie was a being of pure swagger; opening up like that had been absolutely terrifying to him. Why wouldn't he leave?

Or maybe he regretted it. Maybe he didn't mean to come onto Dane. Maybe Dane had pushed him into doing something he didn't want to do. But he'd been erect the whole time, hadn't he? That doesn't mean shit and you know it. Dane couldn't even count how many erections he got in a week; it could have been pure autonomic reaction even if Bertie didn't want any of it. But he hadn't tried to stop him, either. Bertie had let him have his way with him. Maybe because he's your friend and didn't want to disappoint you. Face it, you scared him off.

Dane went to his kitchenette and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the icebox. He pulled off the top and took a long pull straight from the bottle. He slid down the wall slowly, chest still occasionally hitching from his sobs, and stared out the window into the dark night wondering what he did wrong.