Guess Who's Coming To Dinner
#37 of Hockey Hunk Season 3
When worlds collide.
Hehhey, and welcome to The Hockey Hunk!
I've got an extra length chapter today, because I was having too much fun again *chuckle* , and I hope it shows! Your comments will be very much welcome, as always!
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*
I could hear my breaths rattling along the walls of the elevator slowly whirring itself up towards our ultimate destination, and let's be honest, I felt a little bit like shitting my pants.
"Is there anything else I should remember?" Victor's resonant rumble soothed my ears somewhat, and drew my eyes to the big male who shared the small mobile box. "Besides the strict expectations on hygiene?"
My ears and my tail jumped a little at the sudden contact once more, and I let a little smile cross my features.
"Well, uh...you should try to follow Peter's instructions and not to wander around too much," I speculated, watching the Dobie carefully for reactions to my words. "And don't touch anything without his permission. He doesn't deal with dead skin cells very well."
Victor's good ear gave me a sharp flap.
"Dead skin cells?" the Dobie huffed, cheeks puffing up. "Do I l look like I've got dandruff or something?"
The sharp smirk that followed told me that that he was joking, and I felt immensely relieved.
"You don't," I said, watching him carefully.
Well, he was so much fun to watch that I added.
"You look good," I said with a smile.
Victor snorted.
"I look like crap."
The elevator doors opened before I could give him a moral-boosting retort, and I hobbled into the corridor, Victor, being the gentleman he was, allowing me to make my slow way first before he followed. I couldn't help but smile a bit at that gesture. It felt so much more like the normal Victor I was familiar with, and made the nervous tension in my belly subside a little.
"I still think you look good," I replied over my shoulder while he walked down the corridor.
The Dobie behind me snuffled and scratched the side of his muzzle as he stomped along the corridor.
Even my limited legs took me to Peter's door in a matter of steps, and I realized that this was it. I took a deep breath and then punched the little button above the tiny "P. Sinclair" sign with my elbow.
It seemed appropriate for the occasion.
I heard the soft din of the doorbell from within, and my ears perked up. I saw Victor enter my field of vision as well, standing by me, tall, broad, and unarguably handsome, even with the slightly sour expression persisting on his face. His good ear gave a sharp flick.
"It's going to be alright," I murmured.
The locks clicked, and the door was pushed open with some momentum, because I instinctually had it to catch it from slamming against the wall. That was a bit awkward with my crutches and all ,but I knew it too, carried a reason.
It became evident as soon as the door had stabilized. We could see into the hall of Peter's apartment, and the cougar himself was standing by the doorway into the living area, several yards away from the front door.
"Hi, Peter!" I enthused, hoping for the best.
"Hello, Rowreeh!" the cougar yelped. "Hello, Victor!"
I gave a quick glance at Victor, who was looking at Peter with a puzzled expression. My stomach just about had the time to clench once before Victor spoke.
"Hello, Peter," he said.
The cougar gave a quick wave, and I could see his tail swaying, too.
"We have met before," Peter spoke. "Come on in, please."
I felt self-conscious about moving so slowly, but Victor wouldn't budge, so I assumed that he wanted me to go first once more, and I did, entering the odd-smelling air of the hall. My eyes immediately jumped to the imposing arrangement of bottles and boxes on the shelf containing Peter's arsenal of biological warfare against micro-organisms.
"I told Rory to tell you about my immuno-suppressed status, and if he didn't, I'm going to be angry with him," Peter continued his low-voiced discussion from his side of the hall once Victor was inside and the front door was closed. "But to remind you again, because of the meds I take, I easily catch stuff. That's why you and Rory have to use that big pump bottle there to put a lot of that stuff onto your paws and rub the stuff in until it evaporates."
"I understand," Victor replied.
"Let me show you how it's done," I said, hobbling over to the small seat Peter had put there for me to do this with my current ambulatory status.
Victor followed me with his gaze as I sat down clumsily and then elbowed a splash of the rubbing alcohol-scented cold disinfectant onto my palm.
"You just rub it all over like this," I explained, showing him how I rolled my palms together, crisscrossed my fingers and made a fist to rub the stuff onto my knuckles as well, against my palm.
"You should also leave your shoes and your jacket there. You can hang in on the hook on the right, Victor."
The Dobie gave the coat rack a quick glance.
"Of course."
I pumped another spurt of the cold, foul-smelling substance onto my palm and began to work over my other palm now. It matted my furs and soaked against my skin, but the sheer alcohol content caused it to disappear into the thin air before it left much of a damp feeling.
"Oh, Victor, I'm sorry, but I almost forgot," Peter's voice cut in again.
Both of us looked over to him.
"Yes?" Victor rumbled.
"Have you had chicken pox?"
There we go, I thought. First WTF challenge had been passed by the cougar, and now it was the Dobie's turn to respond. I watched him, standing still for a brief moment before he simply stepped forward and mimicked what I had done earlier with the bottle. The hospital-like smell intensified, and Victor's paws made a slippery sound as he rubbed them together vigorously.
"Sure. Cobb and I had it together, of course."
I looked at Peter, who seemed to nod in approval.
"Alright. How about mononucleosis?"
Oh God...
The scent of the stuff on Victor's paws made my nose wrinkle as much as the imminent oddness of Peter's statement.
"Nope. I guess I didn't do enough kissing when I was a teenager," The Dobie rumbled.
My tail gave a surprised flap against my legs as I listened to this bizarre exchange happen over my head. Victor seemed stoic as ever, and Peter gave a nod that probably indicated approval in his non-infected state.
"Excellent. Once you've done your paws, you can help Rory with his crutches."
Victor gave me a quizzical look now. I pointed at the plastic paws on the ends of my aluminum spare legs.
"They might catch something from the curb," I mused.
"Right," Victor rumbled.
"I think Rory knows how to handle the rest, so, I'll pop by the kitchen now to see how the food is doing, and I shall be joining your company in a moment," Peter noted. "Welcome to my home, Victor."
He didn't stay to wait for the polite answer I would expect from Victor, and instead disappeared in a flash of his tail through the doorway into the kitchen. I looked up to Victor and wondered....and hoped.
Victor gave me a look and then pointed at my crutches.
"What do I do with these, then?"
My ears flicked sharply.
"Just let me do it," I smiled quickly. "It's just a little trick."
"You're the boss," Victor rumbled.
I didn't much feel like a boss, but I grabbed the box of wet wipes and got down to it.
"It all looks very nice!!!!"
_ _
Peter's voice cut through the medically scented air and brought me back to the odd reality of things. Victor was about to meet Peter, really meet someone from my life...and I guess that was a first. He hadn't met my family or my co-workers, and...well...now that I thought about it, he had met Haakon, but the lynx barely counted.
And I hadn't even told Victor that Haakon had seen through my shameful ruse and was now in the know about me and Victor.
Damn.
But that wasn't for now, I reminded myself as I scrubbed on my crutches. This was about Peter, about getting out of the claustrophobic confines of my apartment, and to give a distraction Victor who was still obviously still messed up about everything that had went on with me and, newly, Cobb.
Peter sashayed into view again, standing there on the doorway, T-shirt and all, and his fluffy arms folded over his chest as well, watching as we worked through the regime.
"I'm sorry that the circumstances of our first meeting weren't better, Victor," Peter spoke across the room. "But Rory has told me all about you, and I am very glad to meet you now."
Victor's paws kept rubbing together, meticulously, it seemed, which ought to have pleased Peter, I hoped.
"Rory has told me a lot about you as well, Peter, and so has my brother."
Fuck!
Was that irony or what, that Peter had more personal experience with a Cobb Holden rather than the Victor Holden currently standing next to me and smelling like a spilled bottle of nail polish remover.
Don't ask how I know that.
Peter snuffled and flicked his tawny ears amiably.
"Oh yes...Jacob J. Holden, Vice President," the cougar purred.
Victor grumbled deeply and made my ears jump. Peter kept on smiling.
"He seems to be quite the vice indeed," Peter mused.
Victor gave my cougar a surprised look, but Peter seemed unfazed. I could tell a lot by the easy sway of his tail, and that alone made it quite clear to me that he was enjoying himself a great deal.
"Could you give me a paw, Victor?" I cut in.
"Sure," the Dobie rumbled, reaching down with one big paw.
"Thank you," I smiled.
"The food is pretty much ready, guys, so just come right through to the kitchen," Peter announced.
"Thanks!" I replied.
Victor helped me up and gave me my crutches, too, and soon we were both hobbling along. The smell of disinfectant slowly subsided once we reached the living room, and my nose finally caught the scent of the often-promised chicken. My belly rumbled almost immediately. So hungry! I'd only had that one black cup of coffee today, ever since my mad rush to find Victor.
"I hope you like chicken, Victor!" Peter called, already in the kitchen and out of sight.
"Of course!" the Dobie replied.
"Great!"
We entered the kitchen, and I found a rare sight in front of me, that being that the table was set for three, as neatly as ever, because it was Peter, of course. He had even pulled the chairs to make more room for me to settle down, with my current difficulties. The food was smelling even better here.
"Victor, you should sit by the wall, so that Rory can sit on the open side and it'll be easier for Rory to get up and down if he needs to," Peter informed, giving us a look from his place by the stove, looking into a pot.
"Sure," the Dobie rumbled.
We took our places on one side of the table, and I put my crutches down so that they leaned against the table and had the least chance of falling down with a terrible clatter. Once I was happy with myself, I turned to look at Victor, now settled on his own seat. I could see that he was looking over the room, the place, the immaculately clean surfaces and the neat organization, the utensils and the bottles of unopened mineral water on the table. They were perspiring a bit, and told me that they'd just been taken out of the fridge.
"I was originally cooking for two, so there's not an awfully lot of food, but since Rory is a big eater and I always diet, there ought to be enough for three," Peter continued his chatter as he put the lid down on the pot again.
"I don't mind," Victor replied. "Haven't been eating so much lately."
Peter chuckled.
"Yeah, when you feel crap, you either stop or just binge on comfort food," the cougar replied with a look over his shoulder. "Been there, done that. Depression's a big steaming piece of shit inside your brain."
I almost spluttered at the sudden tirade, and gave Victor a quick look to see what he was thinking, but I couldn't see much besides gentle understanding there, on my Dobie's tired features.
"Well, Cobb's also been trying to feed me. Ice cream and chocolate, mostly."
Peter purred.
"I indulge in some extra dark variety sometimes," he flashed his teeth with his smile, still looking his shoulder. "Really gets me going."
Peter splashed his paws under the sink, dried them with a paper towel, and then proceeded to put on oven mittens for the purpose of carrying the earlier spied upon put to the table. He soon followed with another one, which I suspected would contain rice, and then, once the mittens were removed, he passed by the fridge to bring in the salad in its bowl. Peter's claws punctured the plastic wrap he'd put over it and tore it away in one smooth movement before that, too, went to the big trashcan nearby, which he could open with a footpaw-operated lever.
Then the cougar settled down, opened the lid, and grabbed the ladle.
"I know a good host lets the guests take first, but I don't share spoons, so I'll take my portion first and let you have the rest," he explained, still smiling. "And sorry for not shaking paws with you, Victor, but I don't do that on a first date. You're very nice, though, so I think you'll have a fine chance."
My tail coiled itself around the chair leg and I hoped that Victor, especially in his current state, could handle my cougar's antics. Peter might not have been Cobb, but he could still be a pawful...especially when he wanted to be.
"It is fine," Victor rumbled, after a moment of silence only interspaced with the sound of Peter ladling chicken and sauce onto his plate.
Peter smiled, and flicked an ear in Victor's direction.
"That's nice," he smiled. "And I'm done now. Please help yourselves."
Peter put the ladle down, and went for the rice, with another plastic implement.
We traded food onto our plates for a moment, and Peter took one of the three bottles on the table and poured himself a glass before he secured the stopped and placed the bottle next to his glass.
"Hope you don't mind that I added a hint of chili pepper into the sauce," Peter addressed Victor again. "I make the sauce from the paste, but it doesn't quite the have the kick I like, so I always add a little."
"I don't mind," Victor replied. "Nice to get something savory for once. Cobb was feeding me pie all day."
Peter purred.
"I'd love myself some nice pie," the cougar rumbled. "And sometimes I do indulge, though not often. Have to keep the fat out of this."
He patted his belly with his elbow, like he so often touched things he didn't want to touch, and snuffled.
"My drugs are like that. Any fat I eat goes here right away."
Victor nodded politely.
"Sometimes I feel like that, too."
Peter gave him a lingering look.
"You've got a bit to compensate or it, I think," he said. "You're tall. I'm slinky."
Victor rumbled deeply.
"Haven't been to the gym in weeks," he growled. "I feel like I lose a pound of muscle every day."
Peter let out a hissing breath between his lips.
"Yeah, you guys were pretty damn banged up in that crash," the cougar noted.
I winced instinctually at the very mention of the accident, but tried to keep calm, and trained my eyes at the pieces of succulent chicken swimming in their reddish sauce.
"Well at least they banged up the guy who caused it all, too," Victor said. "He's going to be charged for DUI and causing bodily harm and whatnot."
Peter tapped his fork against the side of his plate and nodded.
"Well you'll probably not gonna become instant millionaires with the reparations but maybe they'll at least lock that bastard up for a long time."
"Yeah," Victor nodded.
"And Victor lost his car, too," I added, carefully.
The Dobie gave me a look, and nodded again.
"The insurance company took it in. I'll probably be getting fair compensation for it, but I gotta remember that it was six years old. You won't be buying anything new with that sort of money, but I don't mind. As long as it's something that runs smoothly, I'm good."
I smiled and tried to make it shine, even.
"I'm sure you're back behind the wheel in no time," I enthused.
Victor chuckled roughly.
"And behind the desk, too," he replied. "I'm sick and tired of just lying down in bed. Gotta start doing something useful again."
I bet that having Cobb hovering around you didn't make the time pass any easier, but I kept that though to myself for now.
"Exactly why I take work from the university, too," Peter replied. "Did Rory tell you that I work for the Taylor University?"
Victor shook his head softly.
"I don't recall, I'm afraid."
"It's not much and pays like shit, but it's better than nothing," the cougar replied. "And I rather do menial job than do nothing. Though recently I've been kept busy by other things, as you might imagine."
He gave the two of us a look, and I knew that he meant...us. The business. The drama. The shit.
It was quiet for a while, and I felt nervous, as I gave a glimpse at Victor from the corner of my eye. I could see a pensive look on his face, as if he was torn between saying something sharp and something...else. I wasn't sure.
"Rory told me that you have helped him a great deal during these past days and weeks," Victor rumbled then.
Peter smiled.
"It's the least I can do," he said, giving Victor a look before he gave me one, and smiled, with warmth I hoped that was much like the warmth the Peter I had always known radiated towards those he cared for. "I sure as fuck have maxed out my Rory help quota already. Time to give something back, too."
"It's not a debt," I said quickly, as my cheeks warmed and I hoped I didn't sound too guilty as it was spoken.
Peter sipped his water before he replied.
"Yeah, it's not," he said. "Love doesn't work like that."
I could hear Victor take a sharp intake of breath, which drew ears, and eyes, too, from the two of us who weren't Victor in the room. Peter let out a soft purr.
"Love, care, you name it," he said. "Been loving this lion here for a long time, Victor, and I've experienced so much love in return from Rory that I know pretty well when he's loving someone. And I don't think he'd torn himself apart like he has done now if there wasn't something going on with you."
My cheeks started to feel even hotter as the cougar kept on speaking. I felt shy to look at Victor now, suddenly, but the Dobie, thankfully...or maybe not, was only watching the cougar now. He was very quiet.
"That's why I was a little bit pissed off with you too, Victor, when I was watching Rory crawl the walls and feeling all sorts of awful because he felt like he wasn't getting through to you," Peter continued. "And before you ask, yes, of course I know everything. I couldn't call myself a friend if I didn't. You don't have to explain anything to me."
My stomach felt cold. Why'd Peter brought everything up, just like that? What was he thinking? Weren't we supposed to come here to have a nice meal and think about what to do with the entire situation with Cobb? This wasn't about Cobb, this was about...us, now!
Victor beat me to speaking, though, in a raspy voice that rumbled deeply out of his chest.
"I know I haven't been very sensible about it, and I'm not proud."
He let out a deep breath after his words, and let it linger.
My heart might've been hammering, and my palms felt damp, but Peter, my Peter, sat there and kept on gazing at us with his clear, careful eyes.
"Good," he said. "I'd be calling you a motherfucker if you didn't."
Our ears jumped at the sudden profanity, but Victor didn't comment.
Peter played with a piece of cucumber with his fork, and I could hear his tail tap the bare floor behind him.
"I assume you have talked about it all now and no longer want to throttle each other upon sight," he stated. "At least for now."
Only Cobb, I thought.
"Yes," I said quickly.
"Yeah," Victor replied after a moment.
"Good!" Peter declared. "Because it was definitely getting old for me too, listening to Rory's moping. And he does mope, I'm sure you have noticed."
I didn't find it in me to protest, and I just gave Victor a look, with my ears drooping. The corners of Victor's muzzle moved a little, almost as if he was fighting a smile.
"And since it's none of my business, really, I won't say more about it," Peter continued, drawing our eyes again. "But I have to say that I'm glad you're talking, and I hope you'll keep talking. It'll do you good. Though I understand that there are other complications now onto which I am partially responsible to."
Damn.
Well, he wasn't wrong, not quite, I thought as the breath rattled from my lungs. It had been Peter, indeed, who had suggested I phoned Cobb, and that had set off the whole chain of events that had now culminated in us getting a talking from the very same cougar.
"It was your idea to call Cobb," Victor stated what we all knew. "Rory said so."
"Indeed," Peter nodded, "and I must admit that now in retrospect, it seems like a fucking ridiculous idea."
Victor snuffled.
"It'd been great if I hadn't told him about our fight," he said. "I'm sure he'd jumped at the opportunity if it wasn't so."
"I hope you don't mind me saying but your brother seems like he is one for jumping at opportunities."
Victor let out a hollow chuckle.
"Especially when they have something to do with his brother, of course," the Dobie replied.
"I have heard about the end of your date, too, and I can...empathize," Peter murmured.
What a memory.
Peter took another sip of water and cleared his throat.
"But obviously it can't keep on happening," he said. "You guys have to figure out how to defuse the situation with...Cobb before things can take another step for the normal."
Victor grumbled.
"Easier said than done," the big guy mumbled. "He thinks that Rory's a love rat who's intent on fucking every guy in the city."
I grimaced at Victor's choice of words, and I wondered, seriously wondered, whether that was an actual COBB quote which he daren't tell me before while we were talking about this damn mess. Either that or a Victor inspiration, I felt a bit sick for the sound of it. Who knows, maybe the Dobie himself, in the darkest hour, had come to such conclusion over me.
Shit.
Peter chuckled.
"I have known Rory for ten years and I have had sex with him a thousand times, so I might not be a very innocent party in saying this, but in my humble opinion, Rory Gliese is not a love rat."
*
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