FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Hello, everyone, and welcome to Episode 5 of Free Association! If you're new to the series, I encourage you to start with Episode 1, right over there in the sidebar. Otherwise, enjoy!

---

_ Tuesday. _

---

After an hour and a half of english, a two hour break (in which he did homework and had dinner), and then an hour and a half of That Damn Math Class™, Bradley the wolf was walking home in the dark, regretting his decision not to take his car to campus. The temperature was hovering just above freezing, and it had started to rain just before he left class - a cold, morbid rain that chilled him despite his warm, waterproof jacket.

Dillon had once picked him up in weather like this. He didn't know what had reminded him of that tonight. It must have been about a year ago. He'd sat dripping in the passenger seat of a tiny Geo Metro, knees wedged under the dashboard. The shark's rough-skinned pawfin rested on the manual shifter; he drove carefully, deliberately, and yet with a restrained aggression that kept him switching lanes to pass other cars. It made Brad nervous.

Yeah, a bit more than a year ago. Just as things were starting to go downhill. He could remember the tension, the bewildering change in the quality of the silence between them. He'd been so confused, at first, had spent many long nights awake, lying next to the shark, still aching from their customary nightly rutting. He'd thought about a lot of things, those nights. A lot about Wallace. About the last time he'd had something serious and real, and had watched it go to pieces in front of him.

He wasn't sure if this thing with this raccoon was going to end up as serious as all that. But he'd sure like it, if it did. And he was determined not to let things fall apart again. He'd find some way to make it work out this time. Not like Dillon. Not like Wallace.

Not like Todd.

He hoped Jonathon would give him the chance. Thinking about the raccoon still disturbed a cloud of butterflies in his stomach. And a cloud of hormones in his...

The wolf smirked, shaking his head rapidly to get the water out of his headfur; he opened the front door and stepped into the lobby of his apartment building.

"Oh. Good evening, Bradley," came an amiable voice.

He blinked and looked around; the entryway was deserted. Then, he thought to look up the stairs, and saw a middle-aged gentleman looking down at him, a red-tailed hawk.

"Evening, Mr. Harwood," the wolf said politely, pulling off his jacket and giving it a shake. His tail was wet; it dripped as he flicked it.

His across-the-hall neighbor continued down the stairs. "Just get back from class?"

"Yup." There were only eight apartments in this building, four upstairs and four downstairs. Everyone knew everyone else, but in most cases that knowledge was superficial.

The avian unlocked his mailbox, peeked inside, and pulled out a couple envelopes that looked like bills, as well as some junk mail. "Doing all right this semester?"

"I guess you could say that," Brad said, with a small grin.

Mr. Harwood chuckled. "I know what you mean by that. I was in college too, a long time ago." He followed the wolf upstairs. "Well, I hope you have a nice relaxing night."

A little bemused, the wolf twisted the handle of his apartment door. "You too, Mr. Harwood. Night."

"Good night, Bradley."

He shut the door. Quirked his head. Then shook it. The hawk was a nice guy, they'd had drinks together occasionally. Him, Brad, Marty, and that punk-rocker muskrat girl from 3 whose name he could never remember. Hilary, that was it. Still, sometimes he could be a little... odd. He lived alone, at least as far as Bradley could tell, and seemed to work from home as well; he was around at strange times during the day, and left at strange times during the night.

Spooooooky. The wolf snorted.

Marty was lazing around on the couch watching Seinfeld reruns, still wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else. Brad was less in the mood for ogling the resident friendly straight man, however, given the promise he was now free to follow through on. He wondered if Jonathon was waiting anxiously for him to call. The though conjured up an image of the raccoon hovering over an old-style landline phone, twisting his paws. He huffed, flicking his ears.

"Hey," Marty offered, not diverting his attention from the screen. Brad padded closer, watched a few seconds of it, then looked to his roommate.

"I'm gonna be making a phone call," he alerted. "Knock if you need something."

"Kay," the boar replied, licking one of his small tusks. He'd probably be going to bed soon, Brad supposed; he'd been up so early that morning.

Bradley plodded into his dark room. Moonlight was filtering in through the open blinds; tonight it was much dimmer, obscured by a partly cloudy sky. He dropped his backpack by the closet. Maybe he'd get to homework later tonight. Probably not.

The door shut behind him. He didn't lock it; Marty respected his privacy, to the extent that any young male respected another's.

Then everything was dark and quiet.

Brad took his time, despite the impatience vibrating in his chest. He sat down on the side of his bed, beside the table on which his clock glowed somberly. The laces of his workboots came undone, freeing paws aching from a day of confinement. He rubbed one gingerly through his sock... and sat there, staring blankly at the wall.

It was like... purposefully working his way into a tangled net, from whence he had struggled to free himself.

The wolf scoffed. What a negative thought. Where did he come up with that?

Well, Jonathon was probably waiting. He pulled out his phone. Poked at it. 45% battery, that'd be enough to get him through a phone call, however long. He didn't think it would be too long anyway.

Contacts. Jonathon Howard. He whispered the name, just to hear the way it flowed off his tongue. His heart was thudding.

The sound of the dial tone was abrupt, almost startling, as he held the phone gingerly to his twitching ear. His eyes glazed; he swallowed. He'd been looking forward to it anxiously all day... and yet, now, he was trembling, so nervous he could scarcely think. What was he gonna say?

The dial tone stopped, and there was a rustle. "Hello?"

He did sound taller.

The wolf swallowed. "Hi, Jonathon..." he offered.

The raccoon's voice, when it sounded again, was much warmer and shyer. "Hi."

"Hi." Brad inhaled. Well, they'd collectively greeted each other four times, now... In the slightly awkward pause that followed, he continued quickly. "So, so, uh... how are you?"

"Good." Brad half expected a cheesy remark like 'Now that I'm talking to you,' or something, but none came. "I, um, I had an... okay day."

"Tell me about it," the wolf said, with a smile; he liked the idea of the raccoon's day-to-day affairs becoming 'his business'.

"Um, well... Class. In the morning. Had lunch with some friends. Then hung out with my, uh, my best friend Mandy. Took a walk, and, uh... well, then I went to eat, and just waited for you to call..."

The wolf listened, smiled, grimaced. "I, uh, sorry, I have a late class, or I would have earlier..."

"That's all right," Jonathon said, voice forgiving. "It was... it was worth the wait..."

There was the cheesy line! Brad felt like he was in a romance novel. He twisted his mouth oddly as he tried not to giggle. Jonathon seemed to feel the same way; he heard the raccoon chuckling a little, after a moment. "Or... or something."

"Well, I'm glad," he replied. "What're you doing now?"

"I was over in a friend's room, watching some TV. Hanging out and channel surfing, really, working on some homework. Nothing too serious."

The wolf was surprised by that response; he had to think what to say. Obviously, his idea of those twisting paws and the landline were misplaced. "Oh, uh, if you're busy..."

Wait. Now that was a stupid thing to say; they'd arranged this call in advance.

"Oh, no, not at all!" Jonathon said hurriedly; Brad had the sudden and inexplicable image of the raccoon waving a net around, trying to keep hold of a fish that kept almost flopping out of it. "N-no, I, uh, I'm out in the hall now, came out here to talk to you. I, uh... there's no one out here, it's private enough. I can... go back to my dorm?" The end of the sentence turned up like a question.

"No, never mind, just wasn't sure..." Of what, exactly? Jonathon's exuberance? The wolf really did snort, this time. "I'm just being dumb, don't worry about it."

"Heh, heheh. Okay." Jonathon sounded like he was smiling, but Brad still felt awkward; his tail was waving about restlessly.

"So, um. About... what I called you about." The mood turned very serious in an instant. "I, um, I'd like it very much, if I could... go on a date, with you, Jonathon."

"That'd be... really great," the procyonid said softly. "I'd... I'd like that."

He'd said it last night; still, the verification sent a surge of euphoria through the wolf's chest. He really really did actually honestly want to go on a real date. A real, gay, romantic, gay, serious, gay date.

"Yay!" Brad couldn't help exclaiming it; he immediately felt stupid, and giggled lamely. The raccoon on the other end giggled back. "Heh, heh. So, uh, I was thinking I'd like to take you to dinner. There's a nice sit-down place in midtown I've been to. Not too fancy, just a bit upscale, nothing stuffy. Got a nice variety of food, too, if you... well, what do you like?"

"Oh, heh, I like a lot of stuff. Love seafood. Shellfish especially, and seafood pastas, that sort of stuff. And, um, most chinese food, and mexican, if it's good, not Taco Bell, but the real stuff. Barbecue!"

"Heheh, good, you'll like this place, then, they do a lot of 'inspired' stuff, like this dish is inspired by mediterranean style, that dish is inspired by what you'd get on the coast, so on. Cool place. Neat chef, met her once."

"Yes, please," the raccoon replied, a grin in his voice.

Brad scratched the back of his head, beaming. "And, I thought afterward... well, it might be too cold, but there's a nice park by the river, pretty close to there. Thought we might head there, and then maybe look for something tasty for dessert." He chuckled sheepishly. "Or, well, that's the plan, I guess, and we'll... we'll see what happens."

"I can't wait..." the raccoon said, eagerly. "So, when are we going?"

"Oh. Uh. Heheh, hadn't really thought about that yet..." Brad said, scolding himself internally. "I, um, I guess we could go tomorrow night?" His brain processed that. "Wait. Shit. You have class, don't you? Aaaah, crap, but I have class late on Thursday, and you on Friday, and..." The wolf gasped, as he realized their schedules mutually eliminated the entire week.

Far away, a little wolf began wailing, Noooooooooooooooo...

"It's okay, I actually don't have class tomorrow," Jonathon said quickly. "I mean, usually I do, but because we just turned in that huge paper, we have tomorrow off; he said he's not going to come and we shouldn't either, heheh."

...oooooooo - Oh. Brad chuckled, relieved. "Oh. Good. I wasn't looking forward to... Well, good. So, would tomorrow night be good?"

"Tomorrow night would be lovely," the raccoon replied.

"Great. I'll... I guess I'll pick you up at like... is 6:30 okay?"

"That's fine with me."

"What dorm do you live in?"

"Uh, it's called Grenville Hall, it's on the way north-ish side..."

"I know it." Brad took a deep breath. "Oookay. Tomorrow night, 6:30, Grenville Hall. I'll be there."

"I will too, heheh."

"Heheheh. Okay." It was hard not to lapse into silly repetitions again. "I'll see you then."

"Okay. Looking forward to it."

Brad swallowed. "G-good night, Jonathon."

"Night, Brad..."

He pulled the phone away and hit End Call. Then, he stared at the blinking message displaying the duration, until it finally flashed away, and until the phone shut its screen off. Paw trembling a little, Jonathon the raccoon smiled, and stowed the phone back in his pocket.

Back in the room, a skinny, short gryphon was sitting on the bed, with a chemistry book that might have weighed as much as he did open on his lap and a vast array of papers strewn in a circle about him, covered in untidy blue pen. His paws grasped a controller, and his eyes were fixed on the TV.

Jonathon rolled his eyes; he should have expected this. "You're going to fail."

"Am not!" Mitch protested.

"You're on problem seventeen; I'm on problem sixty-four."

"So?" The gryphon looked at him defiantly.

"It's due tomorrow."

"So?" His shoulders slumped.

"You were ahead of me when we started."

Mitch hung his head a little. "...So?" he offered hopefully.

The raccoon glared.

Mitch looked at that and sighed, before reluctantly turning off the game console. The TV switched back over to actual TV.

"I came over to help you, not to sit here and bust my skull while you screw around," Jonathon scolded; it was fair to say he'd grown a bit annoyed with his friend over the course of the night.

"So?" This time, the gryphon said it with a sly grin, and Jonathon couldn't help smirking a bit as well. "Fine, then come help me with this stupid alchemy."

"It's chemistry, not alchemy."

"I swear to god this is alchemy, lookit!" He waved the offending page of homework, upon which several things had been crossed out and several doodles doodled.

Jonathon, beleaguered, picked up his own book and homework and trudged over to sit next to the gryphon. "What is it, now?"

Once he'd explained what was going on to the gryphon, Jonathon returned to his own work; he had only a few more problems... Why did they always put the long word problems at the end of the assignment? It made things drag on and on, just when you were most eager to be done with it...

"So, was that your date? That you were talking to?"

Screech, went Jonathon's train of thought. His pen mimicked the metaphorical mental mass-transit, scraping to a stuttering halt halfway through a three. "Uh... W-what?"

"I heard some of what you were saying; sounded like you were planning that date."

Jonathon blinked. Gulped.

Shiiiiiit.

"Uh, yeah, I was."

Mitch nodded once, scribbling away on his paper, while Jonathon stared at his own and wracked his brains, trying to remember whether he'd said anything that amounted to 'I am looking forward to our gay date, thank you very much, mister manly man! I would like having your gay cock in my gay mouth, and going on dreamy moonlit gay walks in the gay park... not necessarily in that order.'

The television flashed onto a commercial, and a stodgy albatross with his patchy head feathers in a combover professed his approval of this message, with an earnest, theatrically troubled look.

"Jeez, this guy again?" the raccoon spluttered; it made a good distraction, but he didn't really have to feign his disgust. "I can't believe people would vote for that nutjob."

Mitch looked up, blinking owlishly at the screen. "Well, he knows how to appeal to his voting base. That's really all you need."

"But the party never should have picked him. An office chair is more electable. All he's going to get are a couple extremists and a couple party voters, and all the sane votes will go for the other guy." The raccoon shook his head. "It just doesn't seem like a very good choice on their part. Should have gone with that other one, uh, the badger."

Mitch snorted a little, glancing at the raccoon significantly. "You would prefer a mustelid over an avian..."

"That's not why, he's just got a lot more voter appeal!" Jonathon said defensively, finishing an equation with a firm dot of his pen. "I wouldn't've voted for him anyway, he doesn't understand economics."

"That, and he wants to ban gay marriage," Mitch said steadily.

Screech. There we go again. Jonathon glanced at the gryphon, trying to discern the intent of that statement; he might as well have tackled the other kind of intent, that the albatross was now ranting about on-screen as his closing message.

"Uh, yeah, that too," the raccoon said, a little uncomfortably. "That wouldn't get through Congress, though."

"Maybe not," Mitch said darkly. "Still, I wouldn't like to give them reason to consider it."

Jonathon gulped. Well, he supposed it was better than trying to have a conversation in support of the erstwhile candidate's social agenda. "Yeah."

And really, wasn't it... a bit odd, that the topic bothered him in the first place? Clearly, his avian friend wasn't homophobic. Or, at least, not against gays in general, though he might be more uncomfortable if he knew he was two feet away from one.

No, Jonathon decided, it wasn't odd. He didn't shy away from the truth out of fear, but out of... a sense of privacy. It was a personal detail, which he didn't choose to reveal. Even if it caused him no end of nervous dodging in conversations. Mitch didn't need to know. So he didn't know.

Unless he did know, of course. Jonathon grimaced, scribbling a line out. That was not how redox reactions worked; he should have caught that. Let's see, the hydrogen goes here...

He wondered suddenly what might have happened, if Brad hadn't had the balls to kiss him out of nowhere. How high did a strange wolf rank, on the need-to-know list?

The raccoon almost snorted aloud. Poor Greyson. No wonder he was the only attractive guy in Jonathon's life.

Ultimately, though... it wasn't that big of a deal. Right now, the only person who needed to know was the one he would be having dinner with... in a little less than twenty-four hours. That was a thrilling thought. In that light, his methodology seemed much less questionable. It had worked well enough, at least.

"What's up?" Mitch inquired curiously. Jonathon realized he'd stalled out on the last problem, staring at the wall.

"Oh, uh, nothing," he replied, going back to his homework. His little gryphon friend watched him for a second, and then shrugged, and resumed his own.

Yeah. Well enough.

---

Thanks for reading! Looks like the plot's moving along a bit! Ah, I love writing about romantic dates. Expect some sappiness in the next few episodes; whether you dread it or look forward to it is your prerogative. :3

As always, comments and critique encouraged. See you next Friday!