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Hello, everyone!

I have a special surprise for you tonight. This is the complete edition of my old series, Love Letters, with a final chapter added. I have decided to publish it as a part of a compilation of the whole story, so that everyone who is new to my work can have an equally good chance in getting to read this story like it was meant to be, from the beginning to the end. Only the excruciating waiting for the next part - for which I have been solely responsible of course - will now be missing, but after the gruffhanger fest of my latest series, I think that this will be a refreshing exception.

I would like to thank everyone for supporting this story, for the comments and the patience, too, because I know that it is grossly overtime, and should have been done ages ago. The muse can sometimes be a harsh mistress. I do hope that the end result will satisfy you, and bring a good feeling, rather than disappointment. This story is for you all.

I could name a few people here who have been trying to whip me to write more, but you know who you are, be proud of yourselves, in your own way! *chuckle* I do hope this will be a satisfactory conclusion.

Well, what else is there? Hopefully you'll enjoy the read, and leave a comment, if you feel so inclined. Don't forget that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find this story as well.

Have a good read everyone!

*

For Dan,

beautiful, as I sit here, alone and restless in my lonely existence, I can't stop thinking about you. I lay restless on the bed and my notepad is resting against my folded-up knees while I keep writing this letter for you. My head is swimming of memories, of all those past moments we can never recapture, and they make my chest swell with emotion, at all the possibilities, all the chances and the times we were together, that are now gone forever.

I look at your picture, and can't help but smile, even if I know, that I can't curl up to sleep and put my arms around you now. You are...so beautiful...in your body and your soul, that sometimes it chokes me up to think about you like this. I know, I know, sappy gay dog talking, I'm the one who cried my eyes out when we watched Beauty and the Beast together. You kept teasing me about having a hard-on from watching the Beast bathe, but really, I was just already primed up for listening to Angela Lansbury sing THAT song.

Enough weeping about Disney cartoons. Though I must admit, you're probably the one fur who has seen me cry the most ever in my life. You've seen me at my worst and my best, and you have stood by, and you have been there for me. I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am for all those moments when you've pulled me back up to my paws, and how proud I am for the fact that I have stood by you when you have needed me as well.

I remember the exact moment when I saw you for the first time. My recollection is so clear, because I wrote the time down. It was January the 7th, 2008, and the time was 03:20 in the morning. At that desperately early hour of the morning, I stood by the prone body of a great black bear, lying on a gurney and surrounded by a team of doctors and nurses working relentlessly to save his dwindling life. I stood near his head, next to the madly beeping heart monitor, and my gloved paws squeezed the medical file where I had been noting down all the treatments we had been giving for the poor soul who had been brought in 45 minutes earlier by the ambulance service.

I remember the doctor asking me when was the last time we put in the epi, and I remember turning to face the night shift attending and telling that it was 5 cc's about ten minutes earlier. The wolf doctor had looked at me through his plastic splash goggles and then turned his eyes heavily at the heart monitor next to me before he said it was time to call it, and told me to note down the time, 03:20 am.

I gave Nurse Carol a glance, and she stopped pumping the ambu bag that had been forcing oxygen into the poor man's paralyzed lungs. She gave me a small sympathetic nod, and turned to close the heart monitor. I gave her tiny smile back, a professional, curt smile, to tell that I was fine, and turned back to my notes, to jot down the time of death, 03:20 am.

I first saw you through the webbed window on the swinging door between the two trauma rooms. I watched how you and your colleagues pushed the gurney in to the trauma room already staffed by the full emergency team. I can't remember why your patient was in, but I do remember how you stood there, holding up the IV bag with your glowed paw. Your maw was moving and you were speaking to the on-call doctor, and you were the image of professionalism, all calm in that storm of grief and pain and hectic rush to save the life of the fur your ambulance had brought in.

I don't know why I noted you so vividly that first time. Perhaps it was the proximity to the life shattering event, the death of that bear whose name I can't remember even though I wrote it down to his file, or the name of his wife whom I passed at the corridor on my way to the staff room to get the fifth cup of coffee for the night. Perhaps my brain took a snapshot of that moment, of my fingers moving the pen over that tiny box in the patients notes where I wrote :DECEASED - 03:20 am" to signify that we had terminated the treatment. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn't seen you before, or at least couldn't remember seeing you.

Maybe it was the fact that you were so handsome, but my brain was too tired and muddled to note it consciously. I didn't stop by to stare at you, instead, I removed my goggles and gloves and protective robe and threw them into the biohazard bin near the trauma room door while making my way out of the place that suddenly smelled not only of Chlorox and scrubbing alcohol, but of death as well.

I wonder why so many of my early memories involve so much death and suffering.

The next time I saw you must have been during January as well. It was another nightshift, and this time I even learned your name. Nurse Jackson called you Hobbins when you and your partner brought in a gunshot wound patient. I stood at my usual spot near the crash cart, ready to hand over medications that would be needed in saving the patient's life, and I held my patient file. If you saw me that night, you wouldn't have known me afterwards since I was wearing a face mask because the patient was HIV positive.

My last view of you was between the closing swinging doors, pushing your gurney out into the hallway.

Do you remember the first time we talked? It happened quite early into a nightshift, around midnight, I guess. It was a lull in the stream of patients, and I leaned to the wall next to snack machine at the hallway towards the lifts and the stairs, eating a Baby Ruth bar in a feeble attempt to get my blood sugar up. I felt chilly in my green scrubs - it was the blizzard season, after all, and the hospital was freezing - so maybe it was my envy of your thick and utilitarian paramedic outfit that first drew my eyes to you.

You had appeared into the corridor from somewhere at the trauma area, and you carried a medical backpack slung over a shoulder. I watched you as you sauntered to the coffee machine and fiddled with it, and banged the side when the machine ate you coins.

"It only makes black, sorry," I remember telling you, and you turned to look at me.

I remember your beautiful blue eyes gazing me over, and I remember you giving me a tired smile.

"Too bad, then, I guess I'll have my cuppa at the station," I think you said.

That was the first thing you spoke to me.

Maybe I didn't want to stop looking at you, or maybe it was my Good Samaritan complex talking, or maybe I was lonely, or horny, or whatever, but something made me speak more.

"There's always plenty in the pot at the staff room, you're more than welcome."

You smiled, and I even saw some of your teeth.

"Yeah, why not," you grumbled, and I gave you a nod, and you followed me to the staff room.

I told you to sit down on a couch while I fetched coffee, pouring it into two mugs. Mine had a big heart in it and it read "YOU HOLD MY HEART IN YOUR PAWS EVERY DAY" , and you got Nurse Linda's favourite mug, the on with a small chip on its rim, and that had blue flowers painted on it. I remembered to steal a dash of milk to it from Nurse Brenda's bottle of milk, and I walked over to you, handing you the mug. The thank you spoke to me was followed by the first smile I got from you.

We sat in silence and sipped our hot coffee. The lights were low, and I remember that there was a lot of snow at the window sill, so even the light of the city outside hardly made it in. It wasn't often that there was this much snow in Chicago, so I bet it had to all come down during my shift.

I must've asked you what you came in for, since I do have a vague recollection of you telling me about a dislocated hip and some nursing home, and how your ambulance had almost gotten stuck in back of snow, but thanks to your big ursine partner, you had managed to push it out of the trouble and back to the road. I think I must've just been nodding so that my ears flopped around.

I remember the smile you gave me when you handed me the mug back and thanked for the coffee again.

I think that the next time I met you was a little bit later. It was still snowy, and I think it was a sledging accident involved, based on the splinters embedded on that poor fur's leg. You handed me over the IV bag in the trauma room and gave me a nod of recognition, and you gave me one back. Isn't it strange how small things can stay in mind and seem so major even if they were so fleeting in the real life... tiny, tiny moments of existence in the flow of time.

Anyway, you always smile in that odd way when I get too philosophical, so I won't write more about that. I should probably write more about more relevant things, like the fact that I certainly wasn't looking to start looking at guys again. I had broken up with Ken only a couple of months earlier, and despite my gay friends' advice to go out clubbing and enjoying a rebound fling, I wasn't up to it. Instead, I would curl up under blankets in my little apartment, with a book and a steaming mug of mint-flavoured hot chocolate in my paws, my heater on full and with my favourite Kate Bush songs on repeat on my iPod. It felt empty without Ken who had been at my side since the first year at medical school, and sometimes I'd allow myself to float back to the memories of the good times, and I'd weep a little bit, and then go to bed feeling even lonelier than before.

I seriously shouldn't be writing about crying over some other guy, should I, baby? Back to you, beautiful.

It was a horrible night, the next time we really talked to each other. A car full of young furs had skidded off-road and ended up upside down in a ditch, and as a result, the Cook County General's emergency department was filled by four seriously injured patients. We worked through the night, stopping bleedings, splinting up fractures, immobilizing necks before we'd manage to X-ray them for fractures. I helped doctor Anderson put a double chest tube on a 16-year-old girl whose face had been cut by the windscreen. She was lucky to be alive as we pushed her gurney to the elevator to be taken to the surgery.

The worst off those four was a young cougar who had been thrown through the windscreen and who had ended up landing into a bank of snow. He came in strapped to the spinal board, barely breathing and with an erratic heartbeat, and as soon as we got him in to the trauma room, our blood was chilled by the sight of those dilated pupils and their empty stare. We carefully started to warm the poor soul up, dripping warm fluids into him, covering him in blankets and keeping him sedated while the portable X-ray machine was brought in and we'd stand there in our lead aprons and gowns and wait.

His skull had been broken by the impact, and he had broke his cervical spine in two places. There was no longer doubt that his unresponsiveness might have been caused by hypothermia from lying in the snow, now we knew that instead of that, his brain had herniated, perhaps during the drive in the ambulance to the hospital.

With my heart beating like mad I had left the trauma room, pulled off my gown and gloves and gone over to reception to take the phone and press the speed dial to take me to the UNOS hotline in order to inform them that we had a cadaver potentially suitably for organ donation. I had talked with the woman on the phone for a while, and then just...stood there for a while, feeling so goddamn helpless with the world.

I passed two middle-aged cougars on my way out to the ambulance yard, unable to look at them while I rushed out there, only clad in my scrubs, and collapsed to sit on a bench near the ambulance loading doors.

Now, you know I'm a big weepy, but I don't usually cry at work. I don't know what made that case special, I mean, it was certainly not the first time I had to deal with that kind of patients, but still...something that night tripped me over the edge, and I ended up sitting there with my face buried in my paws, and I cried hard.

You know I'm not some sort of a fussy twinky kind of a Dalmatian, but an athletic, pretty ordinary guy, so I must have been an especially pathetic sight for anyone who might see me. An ambulance came by bringing yet another patient, but I didn't even go out to help them. I was too spent, too much caught in my own little world of misery as I cried my eyes out over someone I never knew for more than the mad half an hour when we had been working hard to find out if his brain had become soup inside his skull or not.

I was roused by the feeling of something warm and good-smelling being pulled about my shoulders, and I looked up, vaguely alarmed, to see you. You had just sat down next to me, and your big, worried blue eyes were all over me. Your paws were still at my shoulders, and you were tugging your paramedic's winter jacket about me. I shivered at the sudden feeling of warmth as opposed to the terrible cold, and I sighed, sending a puff of steam out of my maw as I did. I snorted wetly, and shook from the tip of my nose all the way to my tail that hung limp between my legs.

"You okay there?" you spoke to me, giving me a look again.

I sighed and cursed under my breath, the "fuck" seeping into the night air with another puff of hot air coming off my strained lungs and disappearing to the starry sky.

My cheeks felt both hot and cold at the same time, probably from the tears freezing over them in the terribly cold air. I rubbed my knuckles over my eyes, trying to wipe out the remaining tears. I snorted again.

"Yeah, I...sorry," I mumbled. "Fuck..."

Your paw remained on my shoulders even after you had arranged your own clothes around me to keep me warm, and the presence was my lifeline...my only connection with the outside world now that my skin under my thin fur felt numb from the cold.

"Something rough showed up with the crash victims?" you asked me. "It looked pretty bad out there with that girl we brought in."

I nodded and snorted and felt more tears drop from my eyes.

"Yeah...instead of going to his homecoming, that boy is going to go to the operating theatre to have his major organs harvested," I snuffled, breathing in pained gasps. "Because he didn't wear his FUCKING seatbelt and ended up flying through the windscreen and FUCKING almost having his HEAD cut off!"

I snarled and growled, letting the pained words leave my lips, harsh and loud. They were dark, spiteful words, poised at an unknown receiver, certainly not the lion trying to gentle me. You squeezed my shoulders with your big paws and tried to smile to me again.

Then you asked my name.

I hadn't even realized you didn't know my name. That's how well you knew me, and still you held me, and tried to speak kind words to ease my pain.

"Speckle," I remember whispering my name between my clenched teeth. "Speckle Augustine."

You gave me another of those small smiles that looked too soft coming from a seven-foot tall lion.

"Good morning, Speckle Augustine, I'm Dan Hobbins, EMT."

I think I said "hey"... I think... my memory is patchy in places... but the next thing I knew you had your paw around my arm and you were leading us out and towards the small diner that stood on the other side of the road outside the hospital. We entered the almost deserted place, and you made me sit in on of the booths while you went out to order something for us. I sat there, dejected, staring out through the window that had open Venetian blinds. I idly took a napkin from the dispenser on the table next to the bottle of Tabasco, and blew my nose and dried my eyes before you returned from the counter with coffee and cinnamon buns. They were actually still steaming as you put the plate on the table and sat down opposite me.

"Here, that's what we always get at the station after a particularly rough dispatch," you told me with a smile and pushed the plate and the mug closer to me.

"Thanks," I uttered quietly and sighed deeply.

We drank coffee and ate cinnamon buns in silence for what must've been about half and hour or so, maybe. I must've glanced at the clock but the hour escapes me...perhaps it was five in the morning, or six in the morning, it hardly mattered.

I really looked at you for the first time then, I think. It was the first time I saw you without your jacket, too, revealing your T-shirt-clad torso, your strong, bulked-up arms, and the thick suspenders that held up your heavy duty trousers. Your mane was cut short, so that it wouldn't get charred or caught up anywhere at the line of duty. All those things I noticed, as well as your eyes, and your thoughtful expression as you watched me eat cinnamon buns and drink coffee and sniffle and snort. At least I wasn't crying anymore, though I must've been holding it back.

I can't remember if we talked about anything important...maybe we did, but I really don't recall. Perhaps it was the adrenaline coming down and the caffeine going up that has obscured the memory...but I do remember one thing, when we were about to leave the place.

"Do you have anyone at home waiting for you?" you asked me, sill concerned.

"No, I...I live alone now," I told you, feeling a spike of pain course through me even at the oblique mention of my newly single status.

"Gimme your cell phone," you said to me.

"Why?"

"Can't let you be all alone," you told me and extended a paw, and after quietly staring at it for a moment, I dug up my mobile phone from my pocket and handed it over to you.

You flipped the small plastic thing in your paws and quickly typed in something before you handed the phone back to me.

"Here, I saved my number in under name Dan the fire lion," you smiled to me as you dropped my phone into my awaiting paw. "Just in case you need someone to talk with."

I remember giving you a look, feeling vaguely uneasy.

"Hey, I really appreciate that," I remember speaking to you, "but you really needn't feel like your responsible over me, man...I man, I..."

"Just if you need an ear to talk to, alright?" you told me with your best convincing smile, and I couldn't help but nod in agreement.

"Okay, okay, I... gods I feel such a puppy...," I grumbled, brushing my face with my paw.

"That you were, rushing out to the blizzard without any proper clothes on!"

I became suddenly aware of the heavy jacket still bestowed around my lithe form and I handed it back, feeling heat grow over my cheeks again as you accepted it with a smile and pulled the garment back on yourself.

You told me to take care of myself, and I told you the same, and then you disappeared into the night, leaving me standing alone in that small booth in that small diner.

I wonder if I'm being too wordy here, baby...I mean, you were there, when all this took place, but somehow I feel like I have to write all this down...maybe to show to our nephews or something, or anyone who might care to hear the disjointed ramblings of a gay drama-prone Dalmatian who was practically stalking a fire lion at his job. Well, maybe it wasn't quite that intense, as you recall, but I must've had conflicting thoughts about it all when I made my way back to the ER.

Nurse manager Carol was in and we had a long talk, going through the motions. I even dared to ask about the cougar, and she said that upstairs, four lucky furs were already being operated on by our best surgeons. Apparently the heart, the lungs and the kidneys had been viable. It didn't make me feel any better, but hell, at least those four furs' lives had been changed forever by the tragedy of the cougar and his poor family.

My head was heavy with these thoughts as I made my way back home on the L-train. I stared through the window into the city that was waking up for the new dawn, and I remember sighing so that my breath fogged up the glass.

That's when I felt the vibration of my phone in my pocket. With tired paws I dug it out and flipped the phone open, seeing that I had receive a text.

You ok?

That's what the first text you ever sent me read. My answer was:

Surviving. Pretty morning.

I think you answered...

That's cool.

*

The next time I saw you, we called each other by first names. Wasn't that great? I remember that day very well because I saw you twice that day, coming up with a different patient two times to the ER, and both times we'd sort of nod and say "hi" and that'd be it. On the second go I was getting out of the ER again, wearing my blood-splattered gown and my goggles, and you caught the sight of me, said something to your partner and walked over to me, smiling.

"Hey there, Speckle."

"Uh...hi," I think I replied ever so charmingly.

I must've looked like an odd yellowish snowman standing there in my loose gown. A really odd-looking snowman with a Dalmatian's head bestowed on top of it.

"How've you been?" you asked me in your wonderful, rumbling, chesty voice.

"I'm okay," I must've told you, still thinking about our encounter a week or so back, when I had been a wreck after that car crash kid.

"I was wondering, if you'd want to go to the movies or something," you asked me, your eyes...I think they were hopeful, or at least so I felt then, or it could be my memory glossing things over afterwards - you know how starry-eyed I can be when I get to the mood!

I was really taken aback by the request, and I'm sure you must have noticed my surprised in me. I mean...I'm not exactly flaming, I don't have any manners to talk about, nor do I have piercings or dyed head furs or anything that'd make me stand out. I was just the odd, mild-mannered gay nurse at the ER, and that was who I liked to be. I didn't need to shout out "Look at me, I'm queer and proud!", I just were who I was, and I was happy as I was. And now this big lion was asking me out, practically!

That was my part about it, nothing about you yet, baby! I mean, you were a seven-foot tall lion, a fireman and a paramedic, you looked like you could carry a helpless fur down sixty floors from the top of a high-rise building, you reeked of testosterone and silently confident masculinity and confidence that was all so very apparent starting from your voice all the way to the swing of your tail, all so ordinary that I'd never even harboured THAT kind of thoughts about someone like you.

I think that's why I must've opened my semi-frozen maw and uttered.

"Like a date or something?"

You scratched the back of your head and looked a bit awkward at hearing that, and I think you blushed...I think.

"Just thought you might need some distraction, you know... maybe grab a couple of beers and a burger and see a movie... a guy's night out," you detailed to me your idea of a perfect night out, and I started to warm up to the idea.

It all sounded so...hetero-normative that nothing could've been odd about it. We'd just go out and hang out together, just two guys unwinding after a hard day's work at the lifesaving service sector.

"Uhh...yeah, Dan, okay...," I was being verbally challenged again, but I did manage to suggest that we could go out on Thursday, since I was having a few weekend and no night shifts coming up, so it would be good for me to stay up for a while and try to keep my sleep rhythm as well as possible since the night shifts would resume on the following week.

"Hey, that's good, man, I...I'll call you up later and we'll set it all up, okay?"

I gave you a nod, and would've probably said something else, but your radio crackled and you had to be on the go again, zooming out in your ambulance with the lights flashing out and signalling that you were on a life and death mission once more.

I think I waved to you a goodbye with one latex-glowed paw, and felt odd.

*

This really is running up to a lot of pages...my paw has already gone all smudgy with ink from my ballpoint pen...but I still feel like I have so much to say. These year and a half we were together have been eventful, and many memories come to mind...and getting them through this pen and over to the paper is not the easiest task to begin with. I will keep trying, though, so that this record will be a worthy memorial to us.

Well... there I was...Thursday eve and waiting for you outside a movie theatre in downtown Chicago. It was still freezing cold but the snow had been reduced by rain earlier in the week, so it was simply miserably dark and cold and not snowy white as before. I was wearing my thick winter coat and my winter cap, hopping about from paw to paw while expecting for your familiar form to appear and make me feel just a bit warmer on the inside. Yes, I knew you were attractive, but you were also straight and simply wanting to make friends with a random nurse he once saw crying. I decided to give myself a rest, though... let myself enjoy your company, and your looks, too...it was a safe kind of enjoyment, knowing that you were off limits and that there wouldn't be any relationship hassle. I certainly wasn't ready for anything so soon after Ken.

You arrived from the L-train station about five minutes late, I guess, and told me that it had been so damn busy, and you apologised, and asked if I was ready for a fun night out. I told you that I was, and we headed in to the movie theatre.

We ended up watching Rambo.

There we sat, eating popcorn and watching how Sly Stallone single-handedly killed probably half of the Burmese army as he made his way through the jungles killing everything he could get his paws at. We laughed a lot and cheered and generally were all guy-like and stupid while we enjoyed the carnage and mayhem and the corny dialogue. I really felt I could start relaxing around you, imposing as you were for someone like me, a mere meekly doggy nurse while you were the big and handsome firelion. I could watch your profile as you laughed and stuffed popcorn into your muzzle, and it didn't make me feel weird at all. I wasn't planning to try to hit on the straight guy, or anything. I wasn't planning anything at all...just laugh, grab those beers, cavort, get back home and sink under the blankets and hope you won't be hung over on your first free Friday in weeks.

The movie finally came to its blood-splattered ending and we filed out from the movie theatre with all the other excitingly chattering furs, I following tightly in your tow through the masses of people already waiting up for the next movie to start - a Hannah Montana flick, if I remember the glossy posters correctly. We were suddenly surrounded by a mass of squeky school girls, and we laughed some more as the firelion acted as a living plough and cut a way for us to pass.

We stood out on the sidewalk for a little while, puffing out breaths into the chilly air, and then you asked me if I wanted to have those couple of beers you had promised, and after my affirmative answer, we ended up to a small, rather cosy establishment, where the beer was nice and imported, and it made my belly nice and warm. We sat there like any pair of ordinary dudes, one gay, one straight, though that didn't matter as we chattered this and that was all fine with me. Just two guys hanging out, it wasn't a date, just a night out.

I don't know why I kept convincing myself that through the night, I mean, I didn't have any reason to doubt it'd be otherwise. Maybe we'd never meet again, if he'd find out I wasn't the company he wanted to hang out with. He must've had a lot of big, burly friends at the fire station, with which to shoot hoops or go to the gym and pump some iron, or go fishing or some stuff like that. I was just a quiet Dalmatian who liked quiet eves at home with books and music and some television or a DVD maybe.

Your eyes were beautiful when you laughed at a terrible joke I told you.

*

*

After our bloody movie night together, I found myself thinking about you more often than before, Dan. I would do the classic things...stare at the cell phone with your number already dialled, wondering how you'd react to a call or a text... whether you had enjoyed our night out...

...whether you liked fellahs...

I know, I know, I must've been such a starry-eyed puppy during my weeks of confusion. I would say hi to you whenever I happened to see you at the ER, and I do confess that my eyes lingered after you as I'd watch you and your partner push your gurney back towards your ambulance after another successful delivery. You were handsome, and professional, and beautiful, and never even seemed to flinch when you'd bring in the really bad cases as well.

Sometimes we'd text and go to have coffee on a suitable halfway point between our two jobs if we happened to get out of a shift at a same time. We'd sit down and eat an unhealthy meal that wasn't always a breakfast but it did most often contain a lot of greasy things, and then we'd talk and unwind a little. We had to get it out of the system, somehow, and us both being professionals and sometimes even involved in the same cases, it worked for us fine.

I have a recollection of you speaking to the doctor at a breakneck pace while still doing chest compressions on a car crash victim, your entire body taunt as you worked to keep whatever there was left of that poor fur's life still going. We worked on that fur for almost an hour before the ultrasound showed that he had suffered a torn aortic arch as a result of the huge impact forces of the car crash, and he had bled to death on the way to the hospital.

I saw you watching me through the window on the swinging door as I removed the heart monitor cables from the deceased fur's chest and clamped the chest tubes that had been pouring out blood from the young man's broken sternum. I saw you standing there with your gloved paws pressed tightly together.

I remember asking nurse Linda to take over and I left the trauma room, mechanically removing my gown, gloves and goggles into the trash bin before slowly coming over to you and tentatively reaching for your arm.

"He was practically dead on arrival, Dan," I told you, putting up my best compassionate face I had had to give for too many furs while giving out the bad news about their relatives and friends.

"It still could've been just a damaged spleen...," you muttered under your breath, still clenching your blood-stained paws closely together. "They might've managed to patch him up."

"It doesn't always work out like that," I signed daring to squeeze your shoulder lightly.

You snorted and growled, fiddling with your stained paws.

"There's coffee in the staff room," I told you. "You look like you need it."

Grudgingly you followed me into the small, dingy room where we had first shared coffee on that dark night months previously. I led you to sit down on the small couch and fetched us the traditional mismatched coffee mugs from the cabinet, pouring us stiff servings of "WORLD'S GREATEST DAD!" and "TOP 10 SIGNS YOU'RE MIDDLE-AGED". I crashed next to you on that couch and pulled my knees up to my chest for warmth. I felt chilly after breaking a sweat from giving chest compression for forty-five minutes, and I really was in the need of a shower and a change of scrubs.

"You want sugar in that?" I asked of you as I watched you simply hold your mug

"It's fine," you spoke absentmindedly, stirring the coffee with a plastic spoon before taking a deep sip.

You sighed and shook your head.

"You remembered the milk," you spoke, smiling.

"Yeah," I replied.

"Thanks, Speckle."

"Never mind," I told you, watching you over my closely held knees.

We sat in silence, swigging on our coffees. I wanted to put my arms around you and comfort you the best way I could, with a right big man hug, but I wasn't sure how you'd take such an approach, especially coming from a gay Dalmatian emergency room nurse. Even with my disinfectant-numbed nose I could smell your scent, and it was masculine and strong and sweaty, mixed with scrubbing alcohol, Latex, gasoline and talcum powder. All the smells of your trade were mixed with your musk and it won over the smell of the slightly stale coffee, and the stuffiness of the room. I felt my cheeks heat up and I had to avert my eyes from you.

Then you batted my footpaws with your thick bushy-tipped tail to get my attention.

"Dispatch to nurse Augustine, do you copy?" you spoke, and even made the "kssssshhhhrrrr" sounds of the radio going on and off by hissing between your grinning lips.

I kssssshhrrrred back at you and tipped my head so that my ears flopped from side to side.

"Yeah, I'm here, Dan."

"You didn't look like it...weren't you supposed to be cheering me up or something?" you spoke with a lopsided smile spreading your handsome muzzle.

"Sorry, drifted out for a while," I replied. "Fourth night shift in a row, eh? Cut me some slack!"

I complained playfully, throwing my head back before going for my mug again. It was a bitter brew, but had enough caffeine to send my blood running and perhaps clear my head a little bit. There was too much death and smell of vomit and gore in there at the moment. Too many reasons for confusion. Like...you...

*

I have to read these words through again and I consider scrubbing them. What would you benefit of hearing my feeling strange and confused around you? I wasn't even sure if I was really attracted to you. I had done the straight crush thing enough times when I was teen to really be completely fed up with that bane of being a homosexual fur, and I truly didn't want to risk my heart being broken just a little bit more once again. Not especially after the disaster that became out of the double act of Ken & Speckle. Call me the cowardly doggie, maybe.

*

Yeah, sorry, I better scribble over some of that crap up there. I was talking about how we ended up having a tail batting war on the staff room couch. Then we laughed so hard that we woke up Dr. Smithson who had been sleeping collapsed under a folded newspaper. The wolverine gave us a massive scowl and disappeared again under his paper cocoon. We couldn't stop smiling at each other. Well, at least I couldn't...you were smiling beautifully again.

How much is there to a smile? I think I could name all the muscles you needed for a smile back when I was in medical school to get my nursing degree, so I knew it was just the tugging of your lips back for whatever purpose the evolution had created it. It's just an expression, nothing different from baring one's teeth in a snarl or a snort.

I couldn't get enough of your smiles and your scent, even mixed with bad coffee.

I think the spell of the moment broke at that moment, too, because you put your mug away, stretched and told me that you had to get going.

"Maybe we could meet up somewhere later in the week?" I remembered saying almost meekly, and I remember how you scratched the side of your muzzle and considered my completely innocent-sounding suggestion.

"Yeah, that'd be cool," I remember you saying.

They were some of the most beautiful words I ever heard coming from you, baby.

*

I'm sure you remember that we never got up to that hooking up business that week. I was already brushing up my head furs and trying to choose the nicest and least gay shirt to wear for another boy's night out when my mobile phone rang. I must've dropped my hairdryer from the shock, thinking it might be you calling. It was Nurse Carol telling me to get back to ER immediately since there'd been a pile-up on the highway after a truck jack-knifed during busy evening traffic.

I quickly sent out a hopeless text into your phone telling that I had to be at the hospital and rushed to get some work clothes on.

Once I arrived to the hospital it was all in a state of total chaos. As soon as I got my gown on, I was assisting with an endless stream of chest tubes, c-spine X-rays, peritoneal lavages and massive amounts of morphine being injected into the wailing patients. During those five, six mad hours I must've seen more open compound fractures, torn ears, broken noses and severed spines than during the entire past year of working at the ER. My colleagues and I worked relentlessly, not caring that our clothing became stained with their lifeblood and that the floors of the trauma rooms were filled with dirty rags and abandoned medical instruments.

I saw you across the hall, dragging a gurney down the crowded corridor while one of your paws operated the ambu bag on the patient you and your partner had brought in. I couldn't even wave at you because I held four units of O neg in my paws. You disappeared around the corner on your way to the trauma rooms.

Your broad-shouldered form hovered in my sights for as long as I could keep you there.

It was a hellish night that seemed to go on and on. After the initial dash to get all of the worst injured to theatre or the ICU, there was the mass of the less badly affected who still needed our care. Our heroic measures changed into the less flashy acts of suturing wounds, setting smaller fractures, applying ice packs to bruises and serving warm soup and sandwiches for the great number of walk-in casualties who simply sat at the waiting lounge or lay on gurneys waiting to be seen by the staff. I remember glancing at the clock and seeing that it was already nine in the morning, and still it seemed that there was a large number of casualties still needing us.

We fuelled ourselves with coffee, doughnuts and sheer adrenaline, cutting away our personal feelings and simply setting onto the task. It was not glamorous. I wasn't George Clooney nor Anthony Edwards - I know you know which one I prefer anyway, baby, so you take the pick for my role model - I wasn't even a Dalmatian at that time, covered in stained surgical scrubs and wearing old lady-model orthopaedic shoes I had snuck from my locker during five minutes stolen for a breather at the staff locker room.

I am sure you can imagine the commotion that was brought on by the arrival of the next batch of relief nurses. We cheered, seriously, and even I threw my stethoscope in the air as a sign of jubilation at the fact that my surprise 14-hour-long extra shift had finally come to an end.

Our tired bunch made our way into the staff locker room, some simply collapsing on the couches to grab a couple of winks while many others jumped the cramped showers to get the grime of the night away from their furs. I simply grabbed my winter coat and took the L-train. I must've fallen asleep on my seat since I remember jumping up like a madman when the train stopped on the stop just before my own. I couldn't believe my luck for that and must have hobbled back home in a haze. I only just managed to get in and close my door before I collapsed on my couch, fully dressed in my winter clothes and simply laid there, crashed and spent.

I did manage to get myself to shower and drink a bit of milk to calm my churning belly and then got myself to bed and slept until I was woken somewhere near midday by my phone. It was you, sending a text to me. You asked if I was okay and I quickly typed:

Surviving.

To which you, I think, answered:

Can I come over?

I remember staring at the simple words over and over again before I finally got my fumbling paws to answer the commands of my central nervous system. I quickly typed down my address and flipped the phone closed and then simply lay there until the beeps of the phone wracked my ears again.

See you soon :)

I still have that message stored on my phone, you know. That smiley almost made me cry with cuteness, as I imagined your big firelion's paws typing it out, just for me, Speckle.

In fact I must've stared at the phone and the silly smiley for so long that I almost forgot you were coming!

My spotted butt was hauled out of bed and into a bathrobe as fast as I could, and I hurried all around my apartment trying to do some last minute clearing up before you'd arrive.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you might think if you'd read this, the Dalmatian was trying to hide discriminating evidence from a visitor. You know how my apartment looked like, there wasn't anything gay in there, except for maybe one section of the DVD shelf, and the contents of one drawer on my bedside table, but hey, you wouldn't been looking in there, would you? Unless you are so used to rummaging through people's apartments while searching for cubs who have crawled under the bed to hide from a danger...well, maybe not.

Anyway, I had barely gotten the coffee maker going and dug out some chocolate chip cookies from the cabinets before the doorbell rang and I had to go and open the front door for you. I waited expectantly and as soon as there was a soft knock on the door my heart jumped into a bout of tachycardia while I took off out the safety chain and the triple locks before you finally stood there.

I remember that you wore something green, but I can't remember if it was your knit winter hat or your gloves. Your winter coat was grey, that much was sure, and it made your golden furs stand out even better than your usual paramedics' uniform or the firefur's thick asbestos jacket.

I..I think I mumbled you a hello and asked you to come in. You had never been around so you did snoop around with your eyes while you came over, checking out the premises, so to speak, and I must've been talking something silly about coffee and cookies and just getting out of bed and all sorts of inane things. You were all tired smiles, though, and told me that my apartment was nice and that I looked like crap. I wasn't about to contest that claim either, so I seated you on the table and served mumbled coffee and cookies.

Even before we were halfway down to our mugs I could see that you were as tired as I was, and we had gone past the limits of the help coffee could render to us. After I practically fell asleep sitting up and woke only to the splash of my cookie dropping into the coffee mug from my slack paw, you told me that I ought to get to bed and that he ought to come and visit later. You even said that you wanted to make up for the night that we had lost because of the accident. I remember smiling to you very tiredly and telling that I'd like it very much, and I thanked you for coming over even if you practically were in the need of a stretcher yourself.

I can't remember which one took the first step...it seriously is a haze, but I remember how good your arms finally felt around me. I was closed into a manhug coming from you, the great firelion who now had me, the lithe nurse, so close. It felt so natural...so beautiful...to have my head rest against your chest and hear your heart beat firmly.

If we were a sappy romance novel form Harlequin Publishing, I'm sure that by now we would have been exchanging soul-shattering kisses and declaring love for each other and feeling the Earth move as we'd make passionate purple prose love together in silk sheets under a canopy bed while fireworks went off and...

Well, in real life, as you surely remember, we just held that hug for a while and I had my paws around on your back and you gave me a squeeze and ruffled my ears and wished me a good rest. I looked into your eyes and in the aforementioned novel I would have been swooning into your strong firefur arms while you would have carried me, the blushing boy, out of danger and into the sunset while my old life would burn into ashes behind out backs. On planet Never Even In Your Dreams, I felt my maw moving and suddenly my ears head my voice asking you to stay over on the couch since you looked like you might collapse into the snow and freeze to death and come haunting me.

Maybe it was your exhaustion or my horrible humour accentuated by zero blood sugar, zero REM sleep and too much caffeine, but in a moment I was fetching - NO, not silk sheets and rose petals and KY lube - but a spare blanket and a pillow from my bedroom. You took them from me with another beautiful smile that made my face feel an awfully lot hotter than usual, and I spoke a very blushingly good night for you and then spied you for just a moment as you set down the pillow and blanket and laid down on my couch. You were so tall that your hindpaws were against one of the armrests, and it looked adorable.

*

Do I come sounding off like some sort of a stalker here, beautiful? Or a paw fetishist? Anyway, I realize I have written again a heap of very disjointed things here, and I do wonder how you would take all this. I still feel that it needs to be spoken, to put everything that ever happened to us into a perspective. I think we deserve that, baby.

I think I will have to write more.

*

*

Wow...I just checked the clock and it's already past midnight...I've been writing this for hours now...I don't even known when it is going to be finished, but still, I think there is time yet to do it, so that it will be ready in time. At least I do hope so...I think it would be a perfect addition.

Yes, Daniel, I fell in love with you on that dark day that now stands out in my memory as one of blood and as one of heart. I woke up in the afternoon feeling warm and fuzzy and quite a bit hungry, too. I realized that it was past seven o'clock, and I had slept through most of the day. It even took me a couple of minutes to realize that you, Dan, were sleeping in the living room.

My heart felt like it was suffering from a severe case of angina when I hurried to put on my robe and slippers and then crept to the door and pushed it open a little to look out.

From my vantage point, I saw the television, dark now, and the couch where you were sitting. You were a heap of lion covered with a flowery-patterned duvet from your ankles to your neck, and you had your head resting against a paw that was cupping your cheek when you slept. Your footpaws and your big, strong tail couldn't fit the small couch so they hung over the armrest and I found that simply adorable.

It feels almost...strange to admit that I stood there and looked at you for what must have been minutes. My heart jumped against my ribs while I clutched the doorframe with my paws and willed myself to not to go and disturb you. I felt like going in to check that your pillow was well fluffed and that your blanket was nicely folded...and I don't think it was the nursing skills or profession talking this time.

I only dared to allow myself a few precious moments more of watching you before I tiptoed back to my bedroom and laid down, pulling the covers over me again, robe and all, and just laid there and listened to my own heart thumping. I felt both very alive and also, a twinge of the familiar pain I associated with attraction to unattainable straight guys. I didn't weep but my heart ached a little, even if my head was swimming with your masculine beauty...and the knowledge that you didn't even know that I could love you.

I rolled around in bed and groaned against a pillow quietly. I must have laid down there for a long time, and maybe I fell asleep, because the next thing I remembered was hearing a knock from the door and your voice asking if I was decent. I was one flustered Dalmatian when I quickly got up and rubbed my eyes and rushed to see you again. I felt uncharacteristically shy, though, as I ended up being eye to eye with you.

You still looked sleepy and...no way I'm going to write *sigh* here, but yeah, you looked really cute and boyish when you asked me if you could use my shower. I went back to mumbling almost incoherently and said something about spare towels and then escaped to the kitchen to get something to eat while I listened for the water running and imagined you rubbing shampoo all over your beautiful golden body.

My blush had not subsided once you appeared with only a towel wrapped around your waist and another rolled around your shoulders to catch any water dripping from your body. I could count a few more muscles on you than ever before, and it wasn't a diagnostic gaze. I offered you some freshly brewed coffee and told you that I didn't have too much food left since I had been looking forward to eating out with you. You took the coffee and smiled and told me that we could as well make up for that and asked me whether I knew good pizza parlours nearby that delivered.

Do you have any idea how erotic tomato sauce can be, Dan? I didn't know either, until about an hour later we were wolfing down the last remains of the pizzas we had ordered. You had small red stains on your chin and lips from eating the extra saucy triple cheese pizza, and we both were obviously ravenously hungry. I kept watching you and drinking Sprite and hoping that you would not catch me staring at you, even if I was very careful.

We ended up talking even more and soon it was almost 11 pm, and we were again having even more coffee and had migrated to the couch. The television was open and showing the late evening programming, but you surely must know by now that I wasn't watching.

Damn, I hope you can make out the last paragraph or so, my ballpoint seems to be running out of ink. A little bit of shaking seems to keep it flowing, so I hope to keep writing. Sorry, baby.

Right, I see I was writing about you again, what else? You ended up staying the night, and again I greeted you goodnight from the door to my bedroom before I withdrew in and went out to the bathroom to wash my teeth. I...well, it was quite the experience to enter and find my nose filled with you. You had hung the towels you used to dry on the ropes I had in for the odd laundry item. As a result a whole cloud of wet firelion surrounded me, and I must have been blushing like crazy when I tried to cover it all up with the spearmint from my toothpaste.

I wonder if you'd feel odd reading this, but I suppose I should admit that I took one of the towels and breathed your scent in, deeply, and held onto it until I couldn't bear to do it anymore. It wasn't right, I was hurting both of us, even if you'd never know about it, and hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do.

That morning we both had to wake up early for going back to work, so it again became a matter of arranging shower shifts and borrowing you a furbrush and I made us a small but palatable breakfast before we took the L-train up to Downtown and went on to our business. It might have been the strangest 24 hours I had ever spent together with someone, but I was...I was in.

*

I know that I'm going to sound like a serious stalker for telling you this, but I didn't have the heart to wash those towels for weeks. They hung there as a reminder of the quiet hours we had spent together into my quiet apartment, together even when we didn't say a word. For most of the time I did manage to avoid them, but sometimes I simply had to catch a corner of that soft cloth and see whether you, Dan, were still present. Even when the scent slowly faded, my little trips to the bathroom continued.

Your friendship, however, was much more valuable for me than my hopeless crush, and that's why I put up such a brave face whenever I was with you. We'd still have these meals and joke around and send encouraging texts, and I know I smiled at you across the hall of the ER every time you'd come in with a patient. My lips ached from smiling so much and it did manage to overcome the ache from my heart, at least momentarily before it would catch up again and I had to remember the harsh facts of life.

I did try it once, you know, went out to a bar at night and watched the dancing and had a green drink with a small umbrella in it, got hit on by a bear and a cougar and then a wolf wanted to buy me a drink. I left even before it was midnight, after just one drink and feeling uncomfortable and lonely. I told myself many times that it was a very bad idea, but that night I wrapped that towel around a pillow and fell asleep nuzzling my Dan-scented bedmate. I could hardly face you again during the next day when your team came in with a couple of smoke inhalation victims.

*

I'm seriously considering crossing these parts over, you know...but you know most of it already, so I'll let it be. Maybe you can have a little laugh over these couple of paragraphs, if you read this. I shouldn't have written this much anyway. It just seems that there is so much to say and...so many things I didn't think to speak about like this, before now. It almost feels like my words have failed you, baby. Perhaps it's this stupidly late hour in the morning that puts on the move and out of me via my ink-stained paw.

*

Honestly, when spring was starting to turn over in March, I was seriously thinking about telling you I was gay, so that at least we were on the same page - you would know whom I liked, and if you'd like me back, you could make a move, and if it'd be cool, we could still be friends. I simply couldn't fathom the thought of you suddenly seeing me as a whole different person should you take me telling badly. I didn't think you would, knowing how kind and gentle person you were, but it is not something I dared to think about. Maybe I was wrong about a lot of things, including your tolerance. Maybe gay people would be okay as long as you didn't have to look them in the eyes and hear them confessing "I love you" with a shaky voice brimming with emotion. I wouldn't have put that beyond me at that point.

I battled the feeling for weeks, Dan, I was simply too...afraid to lose the precious little place I had managed to create for myself in your life. We had a strange interplay that happened in 24-hour diners and hospital corridors and staff rooms. Instead of tuxedos or nice clothes in general, for our outing we wore Nomex and blood-spattered scrubs and old lady shoes. Strawberries and whipped cream eaten off each other's lips became coffee drunk from cardboard cups and eaten with greasy sugar-glazed doughnuts. The jokes kept coming and the talk about nothing in particular, while we remained a mystery for each other. I was guilty worse than you, since the three words, "I am gay", I found to be almost impossible to utter.

Hell, I had done it before, there were a couple of co-workers, like nurse Linda, who had guessed the way I swung despite the fact that I was pretty much transparent in that respect. It didn't matter to them that I was gay, why should you be any different? Then I again had to remind myself that you were the one who had slept on my couch and sat next to me in a dark movie theatre and used my shampoo and sometimes gave me the best manhugs in the world. Seriously, I felt almost a little bit girly when that happened, and even if it wasn't often, I'd end up being giddy all over and walk in trance until your warmth evaporated from my furs.

One afternoon in March, I helped to suture a wound on the forehead of a fox who had been involved in a minor car crash with his life partner, a cheetah. Nurse Linda had delegated this assignment for me with a gently whispered opinion that I might be able to help the best if the incident would arise other kind of issues. They were actually a happy couple who simply had been tailgated, so at least I didn't have to start giving out domestic violence education. I even felt a slight twinge of envy as I watched the gently smiling cheetah stroke his lover's arm compassionately while I stood there, wearing a surgical mask and handing over the syringe of lidocaine for Dr. Anderson.

The bandaged couple was moved to observation and I made my way to the staff room to get a change since my shift was just about to end. I felt tired and emotionally spent and not to mention icky under my scrubs. All that was forgotten when I saw the familiar form of a certain firelion sitting on the couch and drinking coffee. We traded a quick hello and started to chat, and I went to get a coffee and asked what you were doing there. My heart leaped involuntarily when you told me that your shift had ended and you had decided to stay in for a while and see if you could catch me. We ended up into the position where we had been before a few times before, sharing the couch while drinking coffee and chatting. At least this time it wasn't in order to get the shock of a particularly bad case out of the system.

We sat there for a little while, unwinding in our own, quiet way. Then you surprised me completely by asking me...

"How'd did those boyfriends come out of that crash? We brought them in a while back."

I almost spluttered on my coffee and felt the heat over my cheeks as intense as it ever was.

"It wasn't too bad, you know how scalp lacerations are. Bleed like crazy. The cheetah only had a mild concussion and a couple of broken ribs," I remember explaining with my best clinical tone.

My eyes lingered over you as I tried to gauge your opinions on the prospect of boyfriends, and my heart hammered madly against my ribs. I shouldn't have been that much of a coward.

"Good to hear that all was fine," you spoke simply.

I held onto my mug and tried to keep my eyes and my voice level.

"Seemed to be an okay couple. The cheetah was really worried."

"Yeah, I think he did more damage to those ribs by hauling his guy out of the car than came from the crash itself," you laughed in that dangerously attractive way that I knew you were prone to do whenever I was feeling especially vulnerable for your charms.

I don't know if you remember that incident, baby, but I really, really wanted to tell you everything on that moment, when you were expressing what seemed to pleasure with the state of things for those two obviously gay fur. I wanted to spill it all out and tell you that yeah, I was one of "them" too and that keeping it from you felt like tearing off my fur one hair at a time. I could've as well been covering up a triple homicide. With the bodies hidden in YOUR basement.

And still I didn't manage to it. I managed to smile politely at your slightly risqué joke and then hide my muzzle in my mug as I drunk the poisonous dark liquid and hoped I would not get an ulcer before I was 50. I sat there quietly while you finished up your coffee and patted my shoulder and said that you had to get going since you were busy tonight. I didn't dare to ask what your source of business might be, but I told you to enjoy your night.

I took the L-train home like I always did every night and cursed my stupid state of existence at the moment. I almost whipped out my phone so that I could choose your number and text: "I'M GAY. SORRY I DIDN'T TELL YOU BEFORE." Thankfully, I got some sense to my head and didn't resort to such desperate measures to have at least some peace of mind. Instead I went into my flat and poured myself some of my very much rarely touched brandy and watched Brokeback Mountain from the DVD while wrapped in the fluffy blanket under which you once slept.

Talk about being a drama queen, right? Maybe I should cross that over and blacken it so that my ridiculous lovesickness will never reach your eyes. I don't think I ought to have written some of that stuff...but I don't think I should keep it away from you. It's forever, after all, that we're talking about, so everything will come out sooner or later. I wish I would have been brave enough to spare us both.

*

*

But we both know that things were not bound to be quite that smooth, baby. Even now I both want to bawl and to hit myself at the thought of keeping myself on the end of that noose, unable to come to grips with the fact that I had the most serious case of a straight crush ever. I didn't know what to do. I practically forgot to drink the cups of coffee you bought for me on the diner because for the most part I could only watch how the little bits of sugar got stuck to your whiskers and chin.

You were both my blessing and my terror, Dan, I...I'm not ashamed to say that to you, because you know that it's true, more true than any feeling I ever felt. I loved Daniel Hobbins, EMT, who looked great in his Nomex jacket. Every night I'd curl up to the corner of my couch and watch ER and House DVD's until I'd forget that I actually was a genuine emergency nurse and that the good-looking lion doctor didn't look absolutely nothing like you.

I knew I was in an impossible situation. I wanted to tell you how much you meant for me. I wanted to tell that sometimes I hugged a pillow and hoped it was you. I wanted to tell you that sometimes my thoughts on you weren't so innocent at all. All of that I knew to be out of the question. We were friends, but male friends don't just suddenly come up with declarations of affections spoken with a meaningful look and a hope for the tightest hug of the lifetime. There was the problem that I was not even out to you, let alone to most of the world. Saying: "I am gay and by the way, I'm in love with you" in the same sentence would only cause the worst fallout imaginable.

You must think of me as the most two-faced Dalmatian ever, thinking how many times we were together, at my place or your place or at the diner or at the movies and wherever we went out together. Hidden behind those smiles and flicked flappy ears was a lustful, desperate creature wanting to cling onto your sizeable chest and whisper sweet nothings into your skin. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to think.

"I love you, Dan."

I remember the first time I said it aloud. It happened after a quick one-armed manhug we shared before you had to leave for the fire station to start your shift. The door closed behind you with a thump and there I was standing, feeling like a blushing schoolgirl after that brief physical contact. I could still hear your steps going down the corridor outside the door and I just stared at the blank surface of the door and whispered the words I needed to speak.

"I love you, Dan."

But, to speak those words might mean losing what we already had, our friendship that meant everything to me. I could not go doing things like that. I could not go on at all.

Thus, I was left with only one choice. I would have to tell you at least something. I needed to know if you could accept that part of me, even if we would never be more than friends. I never expected us to be more than friends, but the guilt of...feeling all this, and deceiving you from such an important part of my personality was not something I could do anymore. The lie started to feel worse than the possibility of rejection, as a friend, as a person, simply because I could love someone. That, of course, left me the problem of how I could ever spill the beans without you suspecting that my reason of telling was that I hoped that maybe if I told I was gay, you might...have a long pause and speak something meaningful and there'd be looks and softly whispered words and whatnot.

My bottle of brandy was consulted on the subject as I brooded at home and tried to run possible scenarios in my head. Phoning or messaging you was out of the question, because that felt like a copout solution to something so much needed. A dinner followed by confessions...I might as well turn up with a diamond ring and hide it into your chocolate cake and ask you to be my something for as long as there is life. Asking you over for a night of pizza and movies sounded relaxed enough, but still...how the hell could I steer conversation to that direction? Possible girlfriends had hardly ever been mentioned besides a quick and cheeky: "You done much fun lately?" with the emphasis on the word FUN and combined with a meaningful look.

How was that going to work anyway? Could I even bring myself up to speak the G-A-Y word? Saying "Oh, I am also a practicing homosexual" didn't quite fit either. I wasn't confessing to a crime, after all, and it sounded more like: "I'm a practicing crossdressing necrophiliac." No medical terminology, I decided. I just needed the perfect time and the perfect words and the perfect...perfect.

Did I already mention in the letter that you're perfect, too? There're so many of these smudgy pages here that I don't think I have it in me to go through it all again. This has to make for you before the big time, after all, and you have to read it too, Dan.

Well...you do remember that time when it was about 5 am and we were drinking coffee and eating those MI-inducing cream-filled doughnuts. It was snowing a little outside, but the blowing wind made all the snowflakes fly merrily in the cold late winter air. I can't remember what we were talking about at the moment, but what we said next I do recall with clear precision.

"Oh, Speckle, Rodriguez had his cubs last night back at the County," you said.

I looked up from my half-eaten doughnut and if it wouldn't be so cheesy to say it...oh, well, yeah, I was lost in your eyes and your smile the moment I saw you again.

"Oh?"

I couldn't really remember who Rodriguez was, but it didn't matter. You were smiling.

"Yeah, two new healthy four pound mutts were welcomed into this world at 2:17 am last night," my lion beamed.

"That's great news," I smiled.

"I was starting to worry that Rodriguez had a hysteric pregnancy or something like that, he was worrying himself sick, barfing and all, seriously!"

Your laughter sounded even more deep and bursting than usual in the silent confines of the nearly deserted diner.

"Sympathetic pregnancy has been known to occur," I tried to sound all professional about it.

"More like pathetic," he chuckled, "silly to see a big bodybuilder husky like that, trying to decide whether to have frills or no frills in the baby clothes."

Did I ever tell you how cutely the corners of your eyes wrinkle when you smile? I must be too tired already to remember small things like that. Sorry about that, babe.

"Sounds like amazing fun for those watching, though."

"Yeah!"

Your smile could smelt stainless steel.

I tried to drink my coffee and not to get too much worked up by you being so boyishly handsome and cute all the time and scratching the side of your sheared neck.

"You ever thought about settling down and being the soccer dad and all that, Speckle?"

I practically went into a cardiac arrest upon hearing your words. It was almost like a needle thrust between my ribs and into my pericardium, with those simple, fairly innocent words. It sounded like a bait...even if it sounded so innocent. You just were curious about your friend's opinion about family, after all.

I was still being a coward and I knew that. I also knew that you were hanging right there waiting for what I had to say. What could I say?

My paws clasped the coffee mug in my paws with constrictive rigour while I tried to hold your eyes with mine. I...I had never found looking at you so hard before, and it was almost a shameful feeling.

"I never really gave it much thought to be honest."

I know it sounded like I was stalling. You, on the other paw, simply smiled again.

You had sugar bits in your chin again.

"Enjoying the freedom of being untethered to anyone, Speckle?"

My tail twitched as I tried to be brave for your sake, for our sake.

"It's...well, you know the crazy schedules I have for work, it's a bit difficult to...find the time."

My imaginary ulcer made my belly clench painfully as I hoped that didn't sound too defensive. It didn't help that as soon as I said it I knew that if you thought about it any more carefully, you'd realize that whatever time I would have at my paws for pursuing a romance I spent with...you.

"Yeah, talk about it," you chuckled, still scratching the side of your neck thoughtfully.

My skin felt like my spots were about to fell off.

"Doesn't mean I haven't tried," I spoke as calmly as I could, "I used to go out with a radiology nurse, back at the Hope hospital. That ended a few years back."

Your ears flattened.

"Sorry to hear that."

"I'd like to say that it ended because of clashing schedules but...it was more than that."

I was still going on in cowardly circles, even with you giving me compassionate eyes and your gentle smile. I wanted to hug you so badly.

"Sometimes things just don't work out."

"That's what Ken said."

I'd like to say that it slipped, I really would, but I can't lie to either of us. It had to be spoken and it had to be told, to you, from me, when it was still not too late. That doesn't mean that I didn't feel like I was going to throw up all over the plastic-covered table. My heart was beating so erratically that I was almost hoping for a crash cart to be found in the vicinity. Death by extreme arrhythmia brought on by coming out of the closet...wouldn't that be the height of irony, baby?

I could barely meet your eyes. I could barely breathe. I didn't want to see the scowl of disgust that could be there.

"Did it last long?"

I couldn't have expected those words from you. They were spoken so casually that I was confused for a moment, shell shocked and embarrassingly frayed.

"About three years," I whispered. "We already met at medical school."

We both were quiet for a little while.

"I...guess you're not seeing anyone now?"

I still think that you said that on purpose.

I just shook my head and took a sip of my coffee in the hopes that it could offer some calming effect for my nerves.

There I was, out and proud, and now you knew. And the next thing you asked was if I wanted another doughnut.

I said yes.

*

I'd really love to say that it was smooth sailing from that point on, but we both know that is not the reality of things as they turned out for us. I probably was all too self-conscious about it, because the next time we met, which must have been maybe a few days later, I was hyperaware of every gesture, every facial expression and every word I said to you, because I didn't suddenly want to turn GAY in your eyes. I was sure that now that you knew, you would be preconditioned to look for any signs of flamboyant behavior, and even though I did conduct myself exactly the same as before, perhaps you'd still find things that felt uncomfortable, and slowly a rift would form between us, and that'd be the end of our friendship as we knew.

I have to say that you were exceptionally normal, baby. Just perfectly normal, and smiling and adorable to me, and looking remarkably cute with your short mane and the smile you gave to those you liked. I also have to confess...well...I've told this to you before, especially during that time when...you know...when I put on your spare helmet and we played night shift on-call firefurs, though in our bedroom...but I also found out that for some reason, suspenders looked exceptionally good on you. Maybe it was the gray t-shirt that came with them, when I caught you once on the coffee room having a chat with nurse Linda, and you'd taken your jacket off and that showed off your torso in such a fine manner that I could hardly keep a straight face when we exchanged a few words.

For the record, it took a little while to be back to normal with you, now that I knew that you KNEW, and I...my feelings hadn't gone anywhere at all. I knew that I wanted to be with you, in all the ways that were meaningful. I wanted to hold your paw and smile. I wanted to talk with you through the night and kiss your lips and see your ears flick when I did so. I wanted to stroke my fingers over your chin and forehead and just stare into your eyes.

I also wanted us to have sex, but you know all about that by now, too, baby. Let's just say that I had lots of ideas about what would be fun with you, and I can't say I have been disappointed by any of that. You really do make things work for me, you did then, and you did ever since.

But what else was there for me to do but to keep you as a friend? I knew that a gay friend might be something you could handle by then, but a gay friend with a crush on you, how would that turn out? I dwelled on it, I confess to that, and I probably made for a few subdued evenings between us, just trying to convince myself when we were watching movies on the television that I didn't want to reach over and put my paw over your thigh and open my heart to you. It didn't help that the by now customary goodnight hug was always the highlight of our evenings, and usually, as soon as I bid you farewell and closed the door, I'd hug myself and try to keep that feeling over my furs as long as possible. I'd hold myself and imagine it was your arms there, your warmth, and your gentle breath over my face and your smile the only thing I saw. The thought was so beautiful that I almost forgot the pain it brought, because I thought I couldn't have anything that beautiful, not for real.

Don't wonder if the writing changes a bit here, baby, I had to find another pen, and this isn't as smooth as the last one, so it's making my writing seem a bit different here, it doesn't flow as much. It's really almost too early already, and I know that this may take some time to read, too, and maybe I should sleep as well...but it has to be finished. I seem to have so much to say to you...even if you have heard so much of this before, having it down in words, on paper, written by my own paw, makes it feel so special. It's also making me feel so awfully sappy that don't you mind if I am a big crying queen tomorrow, when it's the special day. I'm already on the edge anyway.

But there we go. I hang onto every moment we spent together, lingering on them almost excessively, as I treasured you on a minutely basis. I could nose my own arm after you touched it, just to know your scent just a little better. We spent so many nice times together that it almost felt like we were dating...which I suppose makes it strange that we slept together for several months before we actually had a date. What's up with these modern relationships? Where're the flowers, chocolates, moonlight walks and gifts? We had plastic diner flowers, chocolate bars from vending machines and the harsh light of the ER corridor between the triage area and the trauma rooms, through which you whisked patients on the gurney. One time I watched you when you managed to fall asleep on the couch at the coffee room, and I had the huge urge to get a blanket and fold it over you so that you'd be more comfortable, especially since the heating worked like shit and it was cool in there.

But still...I can never think about winter quite the same way as I did before...not after all those dark nights spent wondering about you, and hoping I'd have you as a personal warming device on my side, most preferably in my bed. The couch could have been a good option too, since we always sat on the couch with our snacks and watched the television together, for laughs, and for fun, to pass the quiet evenings. It's almost hard to believe that I didn't realize then just how much of your free time you actually spent with me, but I suppose I was simply...enjoying myself so much that I didn't too much think about the rest. It wasn't work and rest for me anymore, it was...work and Daniel, and that was good, of course it was. I just didn't see how it could be any more than that, since we were nothing but close friends, and had even survived me coming out.

We talked about it a couple of times, didn't we? Just a few words about it, casually, when it came up, and it never lasted long, but it was...it wasn't so comfortable for me, knowing that there might have been the temptation to talk more about my own feelings of the sort that were...as they were, so very much concentrated on the person of you, Daniel, the one I wanted, even if I knew that I couldn't really just...reach for you and...at least give it a try. I considered it necessary cowardice, just so that I wouldn't lose the quiet moments we had, in those strange hours where nothing ever happened before, but now that I had found you...they seemed to be meaningful beyond recognition.

Four in the morning...this is just getting ridiculous...I should have started doing this earlier, but it has been so hectic that perhaps that may go as the way for an excuse. I do hope that I won't ne too bleary-eyed in the pictures...I wouldn't want that to happen on your special day, as much as it will be for me, and I definitely don't want to be blamed for it. But still...this has been needed, and I suppose that it is time to...revisit that very precious memory we have, don't you think?

It must have been almost the very last day of March, when mornings were still cold, and there was snow in the ground, as I discovered when I looked out of the window in the morning, yawning as I studied the white-washed landscape beyond my little apartment. It seemed to be a quiet day, I was off-duty, you were on-duty, and nothing short of a plane crash would produce enough victims that they would have to call me back to work on my first full day off in over a week. You know how I look like in the mornings, ruffled around the edges and wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and not able to do anything before I get my coffee. Working different shifts never did good for my sleep cycles, but I was determined to not to spend the day in bed. There were magazines to read and shopping to do and I am sure my TiVo had many programs stored in it that I didn't have the time to watch before. It was all fine with me, a quiet day like that.

Of course the phone decided to beep just then, but I was quick to let my groan of suspiciousness to dissolve when I found out that it was from you and not from nurse manager Carol telling me to get my spotted backside to work. I...I don't think I've saved that message up, but I can recall the basic wording, of course I can, I'd be a terrible man if I didn't keep record of such an important piece of correspondence.

Hi Speckle, got a mixup

and I'm not on duty

after all, you want

to meet up around 10

at Lincoln Park?

_ _

I might not be a lion like you, but the sight of that message in my phone did make me purr, practically, as I sipped my coffee and read it again. While I had looked forward to my lazy day, the opportunity to spend some more time with you definitely overruled all other concerns, and I was quick to type back my agreement. Besides, you knew that I liked Lincoln Park, and we'd been there before, a couple of times, so we certainly knew that it was an agreeable place for both. Maybe we could have a walk and then go to some nearby place for a coffee...just like any lazy day should proceed, when started with a walk.

It didn't take me too long to catch the L-train to find myself out in the chilly morning air, that also made everything so very clear and nice to look at. It also made you stand out, in its own way, dressed in that black winter coat that made you into a spot of golden yellow highlighted with black, amidst the fresh whiteness that covered the ground and some of the trees. I smiled broadly at the sight of you, and waved my paw at you, and you waved back, and it felt like my cheeks could surely melt the snow should some be applied.

We said hi, and you suggested that we walk amidst the trees that looked like someone blew powdered sugar over them. Our paws rustled over a few frozen leaves that had adamantly stayed in for the winter, brought over by the winds whenever it seemed that the pathways were too clean. We began to walk slowly along the paths around the South Pond. The water looked chilly and perhaps had a thin layer of ice over it, but mostly it just looked black, and dark, to further bring out the way how the snow really made everything look so even and beautiful. It didn't matter that my breath steamed and the cool pricked on my nosepad, but our movement kept us warm. You walked with steady steps, as always, your tail swaying behind you, gently. I liked watching that as much as the rest of you, but you know as much

The first thing that told me that something was going on was that you were quiet. You're not a chatterbox to begin with, Dan, but then you were quiet, and after maybe fifteen minutes of slow loitering, it began to notice it, and it wasn't something I wanted to really think about. It felt like you were...thinking about something that I wasn't entitled to know about.

Still, I asked.

"Are you all right, Dan?"

It was such an innocent thing to say, and you looked at me, quickly, and then avoided my gaze. A big puff of vapor exited through your muzzle. I felt nervous. You weren't usually like this, not when we were together.

"Is something wrong?"

Always the concerned one, I was, typical, wasn't it?

You took another deep breath, before you faced me.

"I...I've been thinking."

I still remember that little hesitation there...etched in my mind.

"Yeah?"

What a wonderful thing to say when my nerves were becoming frayed. I had been in relationships before and that line had cropped up when that meant that the thinking had concerned whether it was worth it anymore, to be in a relationship at all. And we didn't even have a relationship...

"I'm...I'm not really sure about this you know."

My blood started to feel as cold as the snow beneath my footpaws, when you said that. It sounded so...final. I knew it had to be about me. I knew it had to be that you had something that made you uncomfortable, and that something was a thing I was doing, or saying, that you didn't like. It wasn't a question for me, it was a certainty.

You stared at the black water beside us, and not me.

"About what?"

Your tail swayed from side to side, rapidly.

"Myself."

I stood there, in place.

"About what, Daniel?"

God I love saying your name aloud.

The cold wind ruffled your mane and the flaps of my winter cap, as we stood there, frozen in time and place. My heart hammered.

"About what?"

Your ears flicked quickly as I spoke, and my voice had risen a little.

"I'm sorry I wasn't sure...until now."

You finally turned to face me, and your eyes were...powerful. Hot. So full of everything I knew was you that I can't even try to write much of that here. I just knew it was you, in there, watching me so very deeply.

And I still didn't know....even if my heart was going mad and I could hardly breathe the cold air into my lungs when we stood there, by the South Pond.

"What do you mean?"

It could have been almost anything.

"I wanted you to be, and for a while I wasn't sure."

I blinked, puzzled by these words.

"To be what?"

You chuffed, and it didn't sound especially amused.

"Guess the politically correct word is gay."

My tail lashed like a whip behind me at those words. I didn't even have the chance to speak anything else before you already did, adding up to the mad race of my heart with each and every word you uttered while staring at me ever so intently.

"I...like you, Speckle."

I think some part of me was still too stubborn to really get what you were saying, and that's why I still stood there, unspeaking and staring at you, Daniel. You also seemed to catch on it, because you were soon speaking again.

"And when I met you I...I didn't want to assume things."

I suppose my jaw dropped a little.

"You..."

"Almost from the very beginning, but I didn't want to...think stereotypically."

You must remembered how I looked, standing there with my muzzle partially open, and I think I said...

"You didn't..."

"Let's just say I made a mistake once and thought the wrong things about a wrong fur and told that fur and it didn't go so well."

I wanted to hug you so badly when you said those words, and you know I did.

Your breath made more vapor as you breathed harshly out, snuffling, and your ears flicked, quickly.

"Yeah, almost that kind of a face."

I frowned, and felt my cheeks blush. You chuffed, I think.

"I didn't want to get my hopes too high until...until you told me, Speckle...and now..."

You rubbed your face, with your palm, and shook your head. I can remember every little flick of your hear and how that movement ruffled whatever mane you had.

"...sorry it took me this long even after that to tell you that I really, really want to be with you, Speckle."

I suppose I could have handled it a bit better, I think. I shouldn't have just stood there, staring at you, when you poured your heart out at me, and I just...I didn't really...I wasn't really doing so much back then. I just stood there, like a fool, struck by this...vibration, under my breastbone, that seemed to be growing.

"Daniel..."

My voice was so breathy that it makes me blush even now.

You almost hope that things like that happen in slow motion, don't you? You kind of grow to expect it, that real life must be just like the movies, and everything happens in multiple angles and closeups and accompanied by a swell of uplifting music. You would expect something like that and not that the primary sensations are the feeling of almost having to throw up in your stomach, a strange weight on your chest, and an extra coldness over my cheeks that was my tears, soon to be followed by a snuffle from my nosepad, when I whimpered.

Then that coldness was taken away by your paws, heavy and warm over my cheeks, covering them almost completely, and your thumbs touched over the bridge of my muzzle.

"Can you love me back, Speckle?"

You're the most romantic man in the world, Daniel. Consider that my biased option, baby.

I, of course, was blabbering by then.

"Yes."

Did I need to say more? I think not, because after that you kissed me, and it was our first kiss, and we might have as well not said anything at all.

There. Sorry about these blotches all over this last page, you...you can understand, I'm sure. I don't think it makes reading any difficult, I hope, or so it seemed when I checked. Though my eyes are already so bleary that I'm not sure if I should trust them to begin with. But as I read the last page again, and yes, cried some more, I think that I have now said all that you need to know...before that day. Before today, actually, because it's almost five in the morning and we're supposed to be up at nine at the latest. I know we're going to regret this, but...this is what I needed to say, and I wanted to share once again with you, so that now that we move on, we can remember it all together, and make it that little more special. I want us both to cherish these little details, laugh over them and maybe shed a few tears as well.

I love you, Daniel Hobbes, I love you, baby. I want to whisper that into your ear every night from this moment forward, and I want your skin to learn how it feels when I say it over and over again, with my lips pressed over yours.

I want to wake up in your arms tomorrow, Dan.

*

Was it already time?

I rolled over on the bed and lifted my weighty head to check the time from the glowing numbers on the clock on the small dresser next to the bed, and it showed 05:05 am, not eight thirty, the time I had told my dad to come and wake me up.

I yawned and blinked and my ears flicked again when the knock on the door happened again.

Now wasn't this strange. Could something odd be going on?

I snuffled the air but couldn't smell a hint of smoke, and since there was no other alarm, I was pretty sure that this wasn't a fire alarm, or any other kind of a contingency going on. It had to be something else...whatever it was. I did turn on the bedside light, though, and mentally prepared for leaving my cozy bed.

"Okay, coming!" I yelped as I got out of the bed and shuffled over to the door, not caring for the fact that I was only wearing some boxers and nothing more.

The lock of the hotel room door clicked and I opened the door only a little, enough to peek into the dimly night-lit corridor beyond.

I smelled Speckle's scents before I saw him, one clear eye in the crack at the door, and the familiar floppy ears, and the curve of his muzzle. I snuffled, and pulled the door open just a little more.

"Didn't we agree to no hanky-panky before today?" I smirked, tiredly, yes, but never too tired to not find pleasure in seeing my Speckle's face.

Speckle smiled back to me, and I noticed that even though he was smiling, he looked almost sad, somehow. I couldn't quite put my claw on it, though, but it did make me open the door fully.

"Do you want to come in?" I asked, watching him now, standing there in his blue t-shirt and some boxers.

I noticed that he had something in his paw, too, something folded, paper, I think.

Speckle nodded, his tail wagging.

"I have something for you."

"Come on in," I smiled, moving over to make room for him.

I closed the door once he was safely in my small hotel room, and turned to face him, and saw that he had sat down on my bed already, and was looking up to me, still smiling softly. He snuffled, and patted the space next to him, over the peach-colored sheets of the hotel bed mattress. That odd folded stack of paper was over his knees.

"I've got something for you to read, Dan."

I landed down next to him, made the springs squeak a little, put an arm around my Speckle and gave the top of his head a little kiss.

"More wedding wows?" I chuckled, curiously peering down at the stack of papers.

Speckle smiled.

"Something like that," he said as he unfolded the stack of paper and handed it over to me.

*

Here we go, everyone! I have to admit that I knew for so long how this story was going to end, and I tried to write it a few times, but only now I managed to gather all my wits and find what was needed to put it down on paper. I do hope that the end result satisfies everyone who has been reading this story and hoping to find out what came of the two main characters.

Any comments would be extremely welcome.

Thank you for reading.

Cheerio!