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Cool fan art of our favourite lion by the always generous and talented kensukethecat ! Thank you for contributing to the story, ken!

Hehhey, everyone!

Welcome to the season finale of the third season of my ongoing furry soap opera "I'm With The Hockey Hunk"!

The time has come to wrap things up for this season, but that does not mean that the story is over - far from it! I feel quite the pleasure in being able to say that I still feel very much inspired by these characters and their situations, and I hope to be telling this story for quite some time yet. So, don't forget to stay tuned for the exciting season four , coming up later this autumn on SoFurry!

It is a time to reflect here, once again, and to thank you, everyone, for being here. This story wouldn't be here without your positive and constant feedback. You've also helped in making this story mean so much more than just a little bit of light entertainment. This story has gone to places and it has done some things for which I am proud of. Thank you.

Now, of course, I must ask you to again open up, comment, and leave your opinions on the final chapter, and the season as a whole, of course - that goes for you too, lurkers! *chuckle* Let's make this one a special chapter in that sense, too, so that as many people as possible may speak up! I promise to give their worth : )

Have a fun read, everyone!

Cheers,

G

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* purrr* *purrr* *purr*

Ohhh damn...

I was purring. Oh yes. This big lug of a lion was purring, openly, resonantly and strongly, noisily, even, and letting it rip. My chest was a pleasant cauldron of bubbling purrs and rumbles, and the nice feelings they brought warmed my belly, too, and even extended into my quietly folded arms. I tried my best not to lean back against the source of this pleasure, and simply stayed still, hunched a little, perhaps, and my tail kept on waltzing and batting against my sweet tormentor's legs.

"Hmmmmm...." I rumbled happily, unable to keep it back.

"You big kitten," Peter murmured, and inflicted that brush against my mane once again, and added a little twist to his wrist so that the constant motion would create extra buoyancy over the furs gracing my neck.

I let out another unashamed purr and rumbled again, deeply. Peter chuckled through the green surgical mask covering his muzzle, and continued the grooming with a careful touch.

Damn, it felt good to have that brush going through my newly washed mane.

Seriously.

The little prickling of the bristles against the skin felt almost as good as jerking off. That constant back and forth motion, that skin contact, the ruffling of my furs, the scent of my own pelt, and the relaxed curve of my body, they all made for such a feline pleasure. Not quite actually boner-inducing, it wasn't quite that like kind of a sensation, but imagine a really good scratch and put that to the power of two, and you're close.

"Ooooooohhh I caaaaan't believeeeee you're doing this to meeeee..." I slurred happily, head hung to give him the most place to operate that tricky brush of his. He was working near my left ear now, and it wouldn't stop flicking under the constant tugging on the skin at the base.

Peter snuffled, loudly even with his mask and all, and let the brush move slowly through the furs over my neck.

"Why not?" he prodded the bristles against my neck, briefly, not hard enough to hurt, but to make my ears jump with surprise. "I have to make sure that the studmuffin is all ready for his first day at work! That includes making this pretty mane of yours look extra nice."

I snuffled and tilted my head a little so that I could catch his eyes from over my shoulder, and flicked an ear at him.

"Well I could have done this myself," I mused, "and I hate to force you into situations where you need to wear that."

Peter's next snuffle made the green paper undulate about where his nosepad was located, and he patted my right shoulder with his non-brushing paw. The brush itself remained still and dug deep into the strands of my mane near where my neck met my shoulder.

"I can risk a few dead Rory skin cells for the sake of doing this," he twisted the brush a little and then pulled it through the long, wispy hair to elicit another quick purr out of me.

I made a small pouty face and then relaxed my head down again, to give him all the room he needed to operate.

"As long as you're comfortable with it..."I mumbled, as my tail began to play about again under this wonderful feeling.

"Of course I am," Peter replied quickly. "If you'd be a carrier of MRSA or Pneumocystis jirovecii, I would have most likely caught it by now...dead Rory skin cells or not."

The brush twisted, curled and sunk into my mane again, from the top of my head and going down towards my neck, and for a moment I really couldn't find it in me to argue with Peter about his protective measures. It was simply far too easy to sit down and enjoy the feeling of such an intimate, but gentle grooming. I would've done it in an instant to Peter if he'd ask me to, and I had absolutely no trouble letting him do this now. It's what friends did, after all.

All kinds of friends, I reminded myself, when the tingling spread from my neck, down my spine, and pooled in the base of my tail and made that big, thick organ flick and jump about gadly.

"Has it been what, a month?" Peter spoke after a few more moments of purr-inducing stroking over my unruly mane.

"Huhmhmmhh?" I mumbled, eyes closed, in the moment, relaxed paws over my thighs.

The brush moved, stroked, and loved me in all beautiful ways while our chat continued.

"A month since you last worked," Peter stated.

My round, pretty ears flicked a little, and I nodded very gently so as not to escape from those bristles doing their magic.

I snuffled, and rubbed my thigh briefly.

"Yeah..." I breathed out.

Peter chuckled and etched a few playful curls over the right side of my neck with his ever-pleasant brush.

"About time then," he said, "can't let that sweet ass of yours get stuck on the couch forever."

I let out a small chuckle of my own, and batted the cougar's legs with my tail again. Peter, standing behind me while I sat on the chair to offer my bare torso and my mane for him to work with, snuffled and sniped my ankles with his own, blunt-tipped feline snake. I wriggled my rear a little, to make sure that he saw it, and murred happily.

"No need to worry about my ass, I think," I replied.

Peter snuffled and smacked my left rump cheek with the brush. My tail - and the rest of me- jumped a little at the sudden contact of bristles against my boxers, but it was all in good fun, as was the loud rumble that followed, too, and my attempt in curling my tail around his leg.

"I always worry about your ass, Rowreeh" he replied, slowly running the brush across my back and eliciting a few extra rumbles from me before it dug to the curls on the base of my neck.

"Hmmmrmrmr..." I let it all out, and even rolled my shoulders a little to better relax into the caress of that brush.

"I'm serious," his spare paw squeezed on my right shoulder, "if you'd sat down on that ass for any longer, I'd dragged you to work myself."

I let out a small rumble and then let myself reflect on those words in silence. He was right, of course. The last month had been rough on me, not only because I had almost died, and definitely ended up being an invalid for months, it seemed, and then there was this whole mess with Victor, and all the usual drama that was involved in going home and...

...and everything.

I felt my chest tense a little, but I puffed that tension out of me with a fell-placed, deep breath through an open muzzle, and disguised it as an extra nice rumble from me, when Peter worked through my mane with his curiously expert paw.

I wasn't about to start thinking about it all now. Not today, when things were finally at least trying to proceed in a normal way. I'd had a nice breakfast, an even nicer shower, and my cheeks could've easily glowed from the suggestive chat I had with Victor last night, and I had Peter's extra caring, gentle paws touching me, too, and putting the finishing touches into the latest iteration of heavy duty muffin Rory.

That's what I was determined to be, too. Just your usual happyhappy Rory, ready to...hmm...

...well, hand out plastic bags and receipts, since Marge had told me that for as long as I would be walking with the crutches, I was going to be confined to serving customers behind the main counter. She'd even promised to put up a stool there so that I could sit whenever I wanted, yesterday, when she called me again with the final details and to make sure that I really was 100% percent fine to come.

I had given her a whole-hearted yes.

"Thank you, Peter," I spoke, after a few moments of silence, during which I reflected on what he had said before. "Really appreciate it."

"Well you better do or I'm going to stop putting out," the cougar replied all too innocently.

I snuffled and nudged my shoulder upwards to get back on his squeezing paw. Peter chuckled, and added a few extra coiffures onto my neck furs, with a bouffant twist of his paw.

"Mean tease," I rumbled without ire.

"Only because for some inexplicable reason I can't help but love you, Rowreeh," his paws moved ever so slowly.

His words, combined with those paws, made my chest feel particularly warm and nice.

"I love you too." I whispered.

I more heard than felt him lean close, but the brush of warm breath and the little smack of his lips near by ear told me everything I needed to know, and make me smile, very softly, but knowingly.

"Think I should get some manespray and really add some volume?" Peter mused after a moment, running his fingers through that side of my mane that wasn't getting the brush.

I flicked my ears sharply and let out a good-natured huff.

"So now I'm not pretty enough for you like this, huh?" I tilted my head a little and enjoyed how the movement made Peter's fingers tug through my mane.

I caught a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye and I knew by the sight of his very own eyes that he was smiling extra mischievously.

"Well, I was thinking that maybe that boss of yours could like some on his favorite lion," the cougar shrugged all too innocently. "Or that cute wolf boy who sent you that flirty video..."

My cheeks seriously warmed up now as I recalled the song and dance spectacle that was Mason thrumming the guitar and seductively looking a the camera while his bodacious buddy Haakon owned the dorm room floor with his rump-shaking and rolling shoulders. I'd watched it a couple of times over the last two days - and even added a like on it - and Peter had of course spotted it via that act while he was browsing my Facebook profile...so there you go. No hiding the cute video from my cougar.

I made a token groan and tugged on his leg with my tail that had finally made its way around Peter's thigh.

"Haakon told me that it was just him and Mason fooling around one night," I said, "and it was Haakon who told me about it, not Mason. I haven't talked with Mason since I saw him at the university."

Peter chuckled and untangled a few messy strands of my mane while he kept on making that pleased sound.

"Right after we ran into Nicholas, yeah?"

"Yeah," I shrugged.

"Still a nice video," Peter mused, "almost makes me want to...dance...with myself..."

The cougar purred outrageously, and I snuffled loudly.

"Did you have to go there?" I rumbled.

"Well we can't be sure whether kids nowadays know what the song is all about..." the cougar mused. "Maybe your foreign friend Haakon has no idea that his dance ditty is about bashing the bishop."

Now I simply snorted.

Peter scratched his clawed fingertips through my mane and didn't spare them from my scalp, either, as he began to shape one of the curls near the top of my head. That nice sensation returned full force.

"Maybe," I rumbled.

"Or....if our friend Nicholas would see it, he'd say...wanking," Peter appeared to be putting up a bit of a British accent when he said that last word, which made my ears jump again and flick against his knuckles and the manebrush.

I chuckled, not the least because the hunkable Haakon's pronunciation always had that mysterious British notion to it that I couldn't understand as being anything but a result of either very curious English teaching at schools, or watching a lot of television. I doubted he'd be one to put it on purpose, unlike a certain lion whose appearance anywhere was more than enough to cause the air raid sirens to be sounded.

"Have you responded to his email yet?" I mused, deciding that it was best to try to steer this conversation away from the video, since my liking of it could easily cause extra embarrassment in Peter's talented maw.

Peter chortled and flicked his thumb against my ear. It responded with a rapid flick and I let out a rumble.

"Not yet," he replied, fingers softening to put the furs behind my right ear into shape. "I'm playing hard to get."

I laughed.

"I can't recall Nicholas ever being hard to get," I said.

"You never got him."

I batted his thigh with my tail-tuff.

"I never tried to get him," I replied, with conviction.

"Neither did I," I pointed out.

"Maybe he just happens when you least expect it," Peter mused.

I chuckled and gave him another sideways look, across the V formed by Peter's arm while he worked the brush close to my muzzle and made my lips pull back with the tugging motion.

"So what're you going to make happen now, then?" I stated, looking at Peter's eyes.

The cougar's eyes squinted a little upon my scrutiny, but remained calm. His brush kept up its slow motion, the round-tipped bristles caressing my skin so well that it almost felt itchy.

"I'll think about it," he replied, and I'm sure he was smirking a little, again, "and probably accept the offer for the coffee one day. Perhaps. Might do some good for my so-called career, too, if I'm in good relations with...Doctor Faye."

I snuffled and smiled a little.

"He does claim to be in pretty damn good relations with your boss, doesn't he?" I recalled.

Peter's tail batted the bare floor.

"Bill said this and Bill did that..." he muttered. "I'm not sure if Professor Hartnell appreciates that."

"Is he still as scary as he used to be?" I proposed.

Peter flicked his ears dramatically.

"Of course he is," Peter replied as he wound the brush over the edge of my mane and then let the brush rest against my left shoulder. "Are you sure you don't want a little bit of manespray, Rowreeh? It would do wonders to the chin region, I think."

I puffed out my cheeks and let out a resonant breath, and did a small shrug to go with that to show him my opinion on his suggestion.

"No thanks."

Peter patted my bare shoulders and then stepped backwards to admire his work from afar.

"Hmmm..." Peter hmmmm'd.

"Should I be requesting for a mirror now?" I mused, staying still so that his viewing angle would remain as it was.

"Don't you trust me?" Peter suggested in an outrageous tone.

I painted a number 9 with my tail and scratched a comfortable knee as I sat there, as relaxed as I'd ever be.

"While you did great mane-dos for college outings, I'm not sure all of those were appropriate for a day at respectable work," I mused.

"I think it looks boring enough from this angle...let me check the front, too..."

Peter moved and circled me and then appeared in front me, crouching a little. I looked up and found us almost at the eye level, and Peter's paw cupped my chin, as if to adjust me for the optimal viewing of his paw-work. I blinked and watched him, gazing into his curious eyes while Peter looked back to me. His pads pressed gently against the loose skin of my jaw.

"Yep," he declared, the green paper vibrating as he spoke.

I never figured out how he survived having his whiskers in there. Did he just get used to it, like doctors surely had so that they would be able to wear those all day, every day? I should ask him.

"Yes?" I whispered questioningly.

"Definitely boring enough, if that's what you're into," the cougar said.

I smiled and tilted my head from side to side, briefly, to rub my chin against Peter's light fingerpads.

"Thanks," I said.

Peter winked.

"Want me to do your makeup, too?"

I huffed, but carefully, so that Peter didn't feel rushed with germs, and kept on smiling.

"You just can't get over them, do you?" I suggested, referring back to my beauty spots ala Revlon.

"Not in a million years."

I smiled and leaned forward, close enough, and tilting my head, so that I could brush my cheek against Peter's. I held it there for a moment, and then leaned back again, and let our eyes meet again after this makeshift peck of a kiss, which had been our habit ever since Peter had resigned himself to avoiding any mucous membrane contact.

His eyes were still so bright.

"I'll probably miss this a lot, Rowreeh," Peter murmured, still holding me.

"Huh?" I breathed.

Peter's fingers squeezed my jaw a little.

"Having you around," he murmured. "I'm starting to get used to it."

My stomach fell down all the way to the storey below us, it felt to me, on that soft, quiet moment that passed between us.

It was so damn intimate.

"I'm not going anywhere yet," I said, keeping my voice and my eyes level, and placed my left paw onto Peter's hip. His eyes glanced there, quickly, as if to make sure I wasn't touching him anywhere he didn't like, before his eyes returned to meet mine.

I did my best to smile.

"I still need my Peter to take care of me," I continued, hoping that my voice wouldn't break. "Always do."

Peter inhaled sharply through his noise, and lingered in the moment.

"Dangerous words," he murmured.

I opened my lips to speak, but the moment was gone, when Peter stood up, let his paw fall, and flipped his tail against my ankles. My own tail jumped in reaction, and my eyes followed the constant sway of Peter's, when he walked away from me in the direction of the master bedroom.

"Where are you going?" I spoke up, searching for my crutches.

"FETCHING THE EYELINER STICK FOR YOUR MOTTLES!" the cougar hollered, out of sight.

I rumbled.

*

Peter came back without eyeliner, nor his surgical mask, and emitted a strong smell of rubbing alcohol instead. I'd managed to get myself back to my paws by then, stretched my tail out and generally felt alright...even if I hadn't seen my new mane-do yet. I'd need the hall mirror for that, perhaps, but Peter returned before I had the time to get that far.

"It looks great," he declared, whooshing past me and going towards my bedroom.

"What're you doing now?" I called after him.

"GETTING YOUR CLOTHES!"

_ _

He sounded awfully cheerful, considering the tense moment we'd just shared, and I really felt like I had to ask him about it. I'd hate to make Peter feel unhappy, in any way that I could affect. I knew that I did have an effect, all too often, too. Peter's routines had been mightily affected by my sudden and long-standing presence here, and with the added complications of...well...everything...I wasn't sure what to say.

"Alright!" I replied.

He returned soon, with a small stack of clothes held on his paws. I felt glad that I'd placed them onto a chair before I went to bed last night. Peter dumped them over his couch.

"Do you need help dressing?" he asked.

"I'll manage," I replied.

The cougar standing by the couch gave me a quick look and nodded. I looked back to him and then slowly walked over to the couch and sat onto the armrest, so that getting back to my paws would be easier than from the actual seat. The clothes were within my paw's reach, and I could start putting on my shirt.

"Damn!" Peter snapped his fingers.

"Huh?" my ears jumped.

"Your deodorant. Where is it?"

"In my bathroom, next to my toothbrush," I replied, giving him a curious look.

"Gotcha!" the cougar said before he was flying again.

I snuffled and wondered whether this sudden burst of activity was a good sign or not, and decided to start with my pants, anyway. I had managed to wriggle them almost all the way up to my ass before he returned, holding the can gingerly between fingers.

"Here," he said, offering it for me.

I let go of the waist of my pants and took the can from him, careful not to touch his fingers and save him another round of paw-washing.

"Thanks."

Peter flicked an ear at me.

"No problem. Do you need any help now?"

I lifted an arm and ssssssh'd one armpit before mimicking the gesture on the other side. I shook my head.

"I'm fine."

"How about your uniform?" he said, suddenly, watching me still.

My ears jumped.

"That red shirt you wear," Peter continued before I had the chance to speak.

"Ahhh," I nodded, my arms down over my gassed pits now as I struggled with my pant legs again. "It's in my locker back at the store. I don't think I even have a spare one at my place, heh."

Peter nodded extensively.

"Ohhh right, then," he rumbled. "Sorry."

My ears jumped, not the least from the hiss I let out when I managed to slip my pants over my stiff hip, and I gave him another look.

"Are you alright?" I asked, my fingers working over my fly now.

Peter's tail swished from side to side and he let out a rumble.

"Of course I am!"

I frowned.

"Well, I just - "

"It's your first day at work in a month, Rowreeh," the cougar murmured. "You have to be in top shape, and I think you will. I hope it's going to be a good day for you, I really do."

I cleared my throat.

"Well, I hope so too," I said, "but - "

"I was thinking of cooking some salmon for dinner," Peter replied, lingering near his office corner now, so that he could watch me and jump at me at any sign of trouble, I suspected. "With some real, good cream, too...none of the skimmed stuff this time, I think. I think I can risk it every now and then, huh?"

I wondered whether he really needed my opinion or simply wanted to keep the chatter easy. I grabbed the shift and folded it open over my lap.

"That sounds really nice," I nodded.

"Then it's settled," Peter declared. "I'll make a great salad to go with it, too."

"Peter..."

"I'd ask you to invite your Doberman, too, but I'm not sure how much he wants to see me at the moment, so perhaps you don't mind if it's just the two of us?" he continued, not cutting me any slack.

My ears flattened, and the familiar tension lingered under my breastbone, but I was adamant not to let it come between me, Peter, Victor, or the day at work that was ahead of me. I decided to be cool, and I would be cool.

I needed to be cool.

"He likes you," I said.

"I know I'm difficult," Peter replied. "I understand."

"That's not an excuse," I said.

Peter shrugged and folded his arms over his chest, and his topmost paw was already doing his customary scratching.

"Well I'll have to accept that," he said.

I stopped, my paws already inside the shirt.

"Peter..."

The scratching continued, more furious than before.

"I miss George," Peter whispered.

His head was hung, and I saw the tension grow, from his ears to his tail, all becoming evident in the moment. My own belly clenched painfully.

"Oh Peter..."

If only I could have just sat up and gone over to him, and hug the pain out of him right now. I glanced at my crutches, and remembered my shirt, and then hurried to pull it over my head. That blocked me view of the cougar, briefly, very briefly, but still, I feared what I would see once my head popped out again and I tugged the hem down to my waist.

Peter still stood there, hugging himself tightly, and obviously biting his teeth together. I couldn't see him eyes directly, because his head was hung, but his ears were partially flat, and I could almost smell the unease.

"Peter..."

He turned his back at me, and for a while I wondered whether he was going to start sobbing. Then I heard the rattle of his paws going over his desk, and a Kleenex was procured from a dispenser. He lifted the paper square over his face and I heard the telltale sound of a nose being blown. He took a few deep breaths that made his shoulders arch sharply.

I was halfway getting up to my paws and holding my crutches before he turned back to me, holding the rumpled Kleenex in one paw and looking at me with bright eyes. I wasn't sure whether there were tears or not. His jaw looked tight.

"Peter, are you alright?" I asked.

Peter closed his eyes and squeezed them closed like that, hard, for a few seconds before he opened them and exhaled deeply.

"Just being emotional," he replied in a huff.

I forced myself up to my paws and stepped closer to him, without breaching into the "potentially angry cougar" personal space. My face was a single furrow of worry as I watched him, and he looked back to me, arms still firmly around his body.

"It's alright," I said, not knowing what else I could say.

Peter shook his head softly.

"I'm ruining your day..."

I snorted.

"You're not ruining anything," I said firmly, trying to meet his wandering gaze and making a lot of head-turning of my own in doing that. "Peter..."

He hissed out between his teeth.

"Are you really sure you don't want me to call my regular cab for you?" he said. "There might not be seats left in the bus for disabled lions. You know furs nowadays."

I gave him a disbelieving look.

"I can't go anywhere if you don't tell me how you're feeling first, Peter," I grunted. "No way."

Peter snapped his tail against my nearest crutch.

"I'm feeling upset," he said, still avoiding my eyes.

"Peter..." my ears drooped.

"Don't start, please," he waved his paw to silence me again. "It won't do any good."

I sighed.

"Peter..."

The scratching continued.

"I'll try to do some of my own work while you're out," he said, staring at his own toes. "Get that dinner going, too."

I let out a painful snarl.

"Peter!"

His eyes met mine, powerful, almost like a challenge, across the couple of feet between us.

"And don't you dare to start doubting whether you can go to that stupid bookshop of yours or not," his paws clenched into fists against his folded arms, and the scratching terminated. "I'll kick you out if you do!"

I leaned my weight onto my left leg and my right crutch and aligned the left crutch to rest against my hip while I released my paw and put it onto Peter's arm.

"You're not doing a good job convincing me that you're alright," I muttered, trying not to raise my voice.

Peter flashed his teeth in challenge, but did not make a snarl, nor did he try to brush my paw away. I squeezed it carefully, and slowly.

"I told you," he replied. "Having a man in the house makes it a bit easier to live without George, on the bad days."

I tensed. This was a bit more information than before, all coming out in a burst of a rattling breath from Peter. He seemed to be breathing a bit harder, too.

"And is this a bad day?" I whispered.

Peter snorted.

"It's starting to feel like one, but I'm not going to let that ruin your day, or mine."

I sighed.

"Peter..."

The cougar snorted.

"I'm being strong now, Rowreeh," he rumbled, sharply, batting my paw away now, but gently, so that there was no danger of me losing my balance. "I'm sorry this happened, but most of the times I can't help it."

Balance be damned, I put my arm around him and pulled him close to me, and we supported and balanced each other for the duration of my one-armed hug. Peter remained stiff throughout, but he did not cry, or make any further painful sounds, but he did but his paws on my sides and held me for a few moments. My crutch fell to the floor, but I didn't mind now.

"it's okay," I whispered when we parted, me stepping back gingerly, to keep my balance.

Peter crouched down enough to grab my crutch and push it onto my paw. I was glad for the extra safety, though mourned my new inability to touch the cougar, in case he needed that. Peter stepped away from me, and turned around.

"I'll see you for dinner, alright, Rowreeh?" he spoke to me, voice louder now, keeping two yards between us now. "It's your time to go now, isn't it?"

I glanced at the clock on the DVD player and knew that he was right. I wanted to catch the 11:05 on number 26.

I turned to look at Peter again, and got a stern look from him, and a tense neck. I knew that when he was locked up like that, there would be no more conversation until he'd feel better about it again. I swallowed the pang of sadness, and decided that going business as usual would be the best way to go for both of us. We could and most likely would talk about it later on.

"Yeah, I'll look forward to that," I said, trying to smile. "I think I'll be home by five at the latest, is that alright?"

Peter's tail flicked sharply and batted the floor, too.

"I'll try to aim it for five, then. Gives you some time to shower and get settled once you come home."

Damn I hoped he meant those words. My palms started to feel clammy, clutching around the handles of my crutches.

"I think I'll have to fetch my wallet and my phone," I said.

He was moving before I could protest.

"COMING RIGHT UP!"

_ _

I sighed.

_ _

*

I sat on one of the "KEEP CLEAR FOR THE ELDERLY AND PREGNANT WOMEN!" seats near the front of the bus, by no means more comfortable than the normal plastic seating arrangements, held tightly onto my crutches and tried not to mope while the buildings and shop fronts flew past my eyes. I had my tail tucked around my legs, for the very simple fact that you really didn't want your tuff to touch anything on a bus floor, and now that long eel of a tail was clenching itself about my calves.

Damn it.

_ _

I felt like I'd already fucked things up. Peter had suddenly started acting very strange, and distracted, too, and I had a pretty good idea that I was the cause. It had to be something more than just me going to work today...and more than him grieving over George, or being worried about me, or...or the newly renewed influence of Victor, or...

I scratched my neck and tried not to mess up the bouffant mane-do Peter had painstakingly brushed onto me during out little, happy chat. I made a face at the memory of the good moment before things suddenly turned sour, and saw a disturbed reflection of myself on the buss window at that. Just a lick of mane and my eyes, looking back to me, and the curve of my displeased lips.

Was it because I was happy but he wasn't?

I went onto rubbing my chin. The bus stopped by the curb and unloaded and loaded a few furs, their tails brushing past me hunching there as small as possible so as not to knock anyone down with my crutches. Some fox's bushy tail had already smacked against them and caused the cold aluminum to bang on my knee. At least it didn't smart much, compared to the unease churning in my belly.

What could I do if Peter started feeling worse again? He'd been doing better lately, hadn't he? Even left home and gone to a public place with dirt. That had to mean something, even if it was for support during my stand-off with Cobb. It had even seemed like he enjoyed it.

This was going to be grounds for such a long talk tonight.

I rubbed my chin between my thumb and my forefinger and briefly remembered how it had felt when Peter held me like that, moments earlier. The thought made me withdraw the touch. I could remember how good it felt, how...familiar, and warm that touch was, intimate while not casual, and yet not...nothing more than that. Just a very gentle, almost casual gesture that could be shared between us.

Maybe it'd been prelude to a kiss on another time and another age, when Peter was still into kissing. Or something else. Our arms and bodies could've offered comfort. They often had done so, during rough patches. Arms and bodies and lips and the oblivion of a quick release and then, the lessening tension, withdrawal, and the simple warmth of two bodies wrapped together. It'd always taken the tension away, the sadness, too, even.

Just like the last time we...

But that, I reminded myself, with grim determination, was before things became more with Victor. Before I found him again and we started on this path into unknown. So much unlike Peter and I and our very well travelled paths that sometimes led into each other's pants.

Would it have made a difference if I could've led him to the bed right now and made love to him? Offered the best distraction I could with my body and the warmth within. Could I have taken his mood away and replaced it with the mellowness so easily achievable with the brief burst of energetic activity that would lead us to that point. What if...

No, I reminded myself. That kind of thinking belonged to another time. It wasn't for this time. Things were more complicated now, and involved furs other than just my lonely self and Peter's desperately lonely soul. Doing anything except what I had already done would be unfair on all too many levels.

I breathed out and almost fogged the window, despite it being quite the sunny day. Sun was nearing its highest point, and everywhere I looked, it painted streaks over the walls. A few clouds had been spotted, but they were of the white, happy, picture book quality, none that would bring thunder and rain. That was promising -

My phone beeped and vibrated in my pocket and prompted action from me. My heart took a few extra beats as I dug into my pocket, and I wondered whether it was Peter.

1 NEW MESSAGE FROM VICTOR HOLDEN

_ _

My ears jumped, and my tail added an extra tight coil over my closely held calves. My cheeks felt a bit warm, too, considering that I had just spent the better part of five minutes thinking about past sex and hypothetical sex with Peter, even with the knowledge that our little chat last night, between Victor and I, had almost counted as cyber-sex. I sure had been hard all the time, though it hadn't gone past a few gentle squeezes through my boxers, at that time. We weren't quite that randy at the moment.

I tapped the icon and recalled the message up to the screen.

HI RORY!

HOPE YOU'LL HAVE GR8T TIME AT WORK

COBB SAYS HI & THREATENS TO COME

TO SHOP AT YOUR SHOP I REFUSED TO TELL

LOCATION OF YOUR SHOP AM KEEPING

_ HIM AWAY FROM GOOGLE MAPS_

_ FOR NOW *GRUMBLE*_

SEE YOU TONIGHT ON FB?

I smiled, ear-flicked, tail-clenched and generally managed to feel a variety of emotions while staring at the little words on the small screen. It was so sweet of him, plain and simple, to nudge me with a text this morning, even if he had wished me good luck already last night, and I'd said thanks and then we'd done the "no, you hang up first" routine for a while and laughed a little bit more before actually logging out. What a thoughtful man he was...when he had a reason to, and no reason to be mad at me.

If only I could give this feeling to Peter, too...I wondered if anyone could. I could at least try.

But I had to attend to Victor, first. Hmmm.

THANKS VICTOR!

BIT NERVOUS BUT GLAD

TO BE BACK. SAY HI TO COBB

AND TELL HIM TO STICK TO

AMAZON. WOULD LOVE TO

SEE YOU TONIGHT. RORY.

_ _

The message shot out into cyberspace, and I put my phone back into my pocket. The momentary distraction had done little to ease my nerves about Peter, though. I couldn't help but sigh as I wondered whether he was going to spend the whole afternoon fretting all alone in his apartment. It really did look like there was potential for that kind of behavior today.

Damn...damn...damn.

But life had to go on, for me, for Peter, and for everyone. The bus was already going down Lord Manor Street, and I knew that the stop after Patmore Crossing would be mine. The bus came to a screeching, if brief, stop before it lumbered onwards. I collected my nerves and my crutches and braced for the eventual impact at the end of the Lewis Boulevard, which followed about a minute later. I only got to my paws after the bus was properly still, which took me long enough so that I didn't have to try to squeeze my way through the furry avalanche of commuters rushing out of the bus.

This was my first time on public transport as a disabled fur, and so far I didn't want to risk on having to rely on fur's kindness for their less well-off fellow men. At least I managed to get down the tricky step and to the concrete curb without falling onto my face and dislocating my ass again.

I wasn't in a hurry, and I was glad for that. The weather was so nice, and being up and about was already boost to my morale. How could I be moping on a day like this, that was meant for having ice cream melt over your knuckles and for acting recklessly in the matters of love.

Didn't I know about that...

Walking was still serious business for me, and with my crutches, the short walk from the bus stop to Lewis Boulevard and in the direction of the bookstore accounted to a good workout on one of those strange exercise machines from the home shopping network.

I wasn't quite sweating my balls off by the time I reached Atelier Marcus, but I still knew that I would gladly accept the stool Marge had gotten out for me. My heart was racing a bit, from the exercise and a little bit of nervous expectation, too, as I prepared to face the real life again. What would it be like?

There weren't many steps left, and thus, not much time to think, either, as I reached the shop front with the display windows and the big old quaint sign and the anachronistic glass door. A piece of paper with a lot of red magic marker scrawled over it was taped onto the window and obscured the view of the Adalmina Woolsworth novels on the display stand.

ALBRECHT BROTHERS

SUMMER SPLASH-OUT

ALL PAPERBACKS

3 FOR 20 ,-

** SPECIAL OFFER ALL JUNE/JULY!!**

Now that sounded like a good marketing move on the shop administration's part, I thought with a snuffle as I grabbed the door handle and let myself in.

The unmistakable smell of never-opened books, air refresher, numerous who had browsed today, and a hint of cinnamon, of all things, met my nose once I was over the doorstep, so to speak, and now standing only a few yards away from the glass counter currently manned by the unmistakably tall and smiling palomino Crystal.

"Anyone called for a temp?" I smiled even before her tall ears flicked with surprise, and she turned to look at me, across the floor, from her position behind cash register number two, that is, my usually duty station.

"RORY!"

A few customers turned to look into our direction at Crystal's exclamation, but I was far beyond feeling on the spot due to that attention. The mare was already coming in my direction, too, tail swishing madly while she galloped and then stopped very much short of toppling me down. One long arm went around my shoulders and I got a face full of equine bosom for a moment too, while she nickered and kissed the top of my head.

"Rory!!!" she practically neighed, making my surprised ears flutter.

"Hey, sweetie!" I smiled, and let out a genuine purr in greeting.

The college girl stepped back and looked at me with her big, earnest eyes, and her tail kept on flicking about, too.

"You look great!" the mare beamed.

I shook my head bashfully and kept on smiling.

"Just regular old me," I said, "a bit slow for the moment, but I'm getting there, heheh."

Crystal smiled broadly still and kept looking at me curiously.

"Well I'm glad you are, Rory, because we've been missing you so much!" she declared happily. "How're you doing?"

"I'm fine, thanks," I said quickly. "My leg's getting better every day. And I try to keep myself busy every day, so that I don't just sit around."

So, I do sit around watching YouTube clips, but that still count as busy, yes?

"And now you're at work!" Crystal beamed. "Are you coming back for regular hours soon?"

I nodded.

"In a week or two, I think, as long as my doctor gives me the all okay."

"Amen!" Crystal clapped her hands together happily.

"Yo! Excuse me?"

Our ears jumped, and peering a little to my left, I could see a presumable college student goat standing by the counter with a couple of books in his paws. The oversized earphones around his neck seemed to suggest my earlier assumption, too, and reminded me of our resident singing sensation.

I wondered whether Crystal had seen that video yet.

"Coming right up!" Crystal chimed over her shoulder before she turned to look at me again. "Unless you want to take this one..."

I snuffled and batted her leg with my tail, gently, friendlily, like I'd do it to Marge, for example.

"I think I'll change first before hitting the counter," I smiled.

"Suit yourself," Crystal winked and turned around to make her busy way for the client. "Good day, sir!"

I kept on smiling to myself while Crystal slipped behind the counter to woman the battle stations and received the books from the now impassive goat. It seemed to me that things hadn't changed a bit around here.

I wondered whether I should feel pleased about that. Maybe it would help with getting into the swing of things again. Just me waving my barcode scanner and swiping cards and being a happyhappy sales representative for the book retail industry.

I headed down along the main aisle, passed a wolf browsing the magazine stand, and gave Crystal an extra smile while she was all busy with the goat's books. I had almost reached the first obstacle, the stairs to the second hand section, when the "STAFF ONLY" door swung open and the very busy, very whip-tailed, bouncy Labrador going by the name of Alex entered the stage.

Ohshit.

_ _

The black lab strutted up the stairs in no time and smacked a paw against my shoulder as a way of greeting, and kept on wagging and practically had his tongue hanging out of his muzzle as he looked at me from eartips to toes and kept grinning.

"Oh hello, Rory, I see Marge didn't joke about having you around!" he clattered, making my ears flatten about 30% or so.

His paw remained on my shoulder and squeezed on it a little, as if measuring the ripeness of a bio-dynamically cultivated cantaloupe.

"That's me," I replied, trying to keep my smile alive. "For today afternoon."

His tail kept wag-wag-wagging and he lifted his other paw to rub his chin, while his quizzical eyes analyzed me.

"Because she had that dental appointment, oh yes, and with the waiting times these days, unless you go for full private, they're just horrendous, so I can see why she pulled all the stops to make it today," he went on.

Hmm...so she went to the dentist, did she? Hmmm...so the secret was even deeper than I thought, I mused, as I tried my best to smile and nod.

"Hear, hear," I said.

Alex patted my shoulder all too firmly and joined me in the nodding.

"I had such pains with a wisdom tooth a couple of years back, it was absolutely horrendous. Nothing would help. No gargle or floss or a new baking soda toothpaste. Eight months of waiting before I got to the dental surgeon. Ate through a straw for two weeks afterwards. I had to skip the nuts from my protein shakes because they would block the straw!"

"Maybe you should've tried a stronger blender," I replied, because I could.

Alex flicked his paw and made a dramatic face.

"That Kenwood is such a nuisance to clean sometimes. I've found out that steam works nicely, though. Do you have a steam cleaner, Rory?"

"I kinda stick to the old rag and soapy water method," I admitted guiltily.

So not guiltily.

Alex chuckled.

"Once you try steam, you never go back to what you had before," he replied with an eager smile. "It's cut off so much time from my daily chores, I can now have an extra half an hour yoga session before my karaokespinning class. You should try that out once your legs is back to normal."

He gave a long look at my ass, from the side, and rubbed his chin some more.

"It is getting back to normal, isn't it?" he mused, still staring at my posterior.

My ears were fully flat by now.

"Of course it is," I said. "There's no permanent damage."

"Have they inserted needles into the gluteus maximus and charged electricity through the muscles to ensure that they are functioning properly?" the Lab went on. "Because there is this delightful man, Paul, at my karaokespinning class and he suffered from a torn ligament in his thigh, and when they were trying to pinpoint the extent of the damage, they performed this procedure called electromyography..."

Oh God...electric needles and housekeeping advice...what next? Colonic irrigation and coffee enemas?

"My surgeon was very professional," I rumbled. "I'm sure he performed every necessary test on me."

Alex patted my shoulder and finally released it, and I almost wobbled on my legs now.

"Well, if you ever start feeling weird, don't hesitate to demand that your doctor performs the test," he said. "Might save you from a great deal of trouble in the future. And have you been watching your calcium, too, Rory? I'm sure they told you at the hospital to be extra careful since you suffered a bone injury, and without calcium, the bones can't heal."

I snuffled.

"Yes, Alex, I've been drinking my milk like a good kitty," I said.

"You can never be too careful, though!" Alex wagged his tail even as he put on a concerned frown.

I clenched my paws around my crutch handles and tried to keep my own tail from smacking the floor in annoyance.

"I think I'll be extra careful with the steps now, Alex," I gestured with my crutch towards the few steps that'd take me down to the second hand level. "I have to get ready for work, you know!"

"Of course!" Alex yelped. "Don't hesitate to ask me for any help you might need, Rory. I'll even carry you downstairs if you need to."

He made the effort of pushing his shoulders back and flexing his arms a little, as if to prove me that I could trust myself onto his strong arms, and ever the more wanted to be downstairs, quickly.

"We'll see," I said. "Why don't you go and check if Crystal needs any help for now?"

"Of course!" he twisted around on his heels and headed towards the counter, but not before flapping that tail of his against my own. My longer, thicker tail made a surprised jump and then tried to tuck itself between my legs.

I held back from shaking my head and gingerly took the first step needed to transport myself along the big lion hazard of stairs. I'd gotten a little bit of practice on this, recently, and managed to get down without too much of a wobble. That gave me confidence for the really tricky part, the rattling steel staircase that led down to the combined storage - social area at the back room. I kept a careful hold of the painted metal bar and took myself down one step at a time, and even took a breather at the middle platform so that I wouldn't exhaust myself and suddenly lose control, but let's just say that I was more than glad to find the cold concrete under my footpaws once I was done.

The old coffee corner was the typical mess that I knew it to be, and I smiled at the sight of the browsed newspapers, the odd copy of a book snatched from the new arrivals, for a quick peek before putting them up on the sales floor, and the empty, unwashed mugs that littered the small table by the sink. Judging by their number, everyone had already enjoyed a couple of servings of instant coffee, and it wasn't even noon yet.

Oh, joy...

It was a bit tricky to wrestle the locker room door open, but I managed to slip my crutch between the door and the frame, and then it was only a matter of horizontally limboing my way into the musky unisex space. Still as welcoming as ever, with concrete walls and bare wooden benches, it was still peaceful and quiet in there, and that, if anything, soothed my mind.

I wondered whether I should lock the door to make sure that Alex wouldn't barge in while I was changing, but thought that to be a bit too paranoid, and instead simply hobbled over to my locker.

"Well let's hope the shirt is alright..." I muttered to myself, and felt my ears flick again as the sound echoed back to me from the claustrophobic walls.

I grabbed a hold of the little combination lock hanging off the door, but to my surprise, the door swung open as soon as I tugged on the small piece of gleaming metal. The sudden movement of my arm with the door made me feel unpleasantly unsteady on my paws for a moment, and I felt my other paw grip tightly on my crutch handle. My tail made a quick correcting action, too, which helped.

I snuffled out my surprise and peered into my suddenly opened door. I could see two of my duty shirts hanging off the bar on the top, as they should be, and a quick look to the top shelf told me that my emergency deodorant was there, and a small Rory was looking back to me from the mirror on the inside of the door, too.

"Hmmm..."

I noticed that there was something on the bottom of the locker, and pushed my paw in to grab the odd, beige object. Where my spare shoes were supposed to be was a...hmm...

I leaned against the wall and extracted a beige cloth bag from the closet by pulling on the handles. It was bulging full, and had a stylized picture of an old building on the front, along with the text "TAYLOR UNIVERSITY LIBRARY" on a very old-fashioned typeface printed underneath.

"Hmmm..." I rumbled.

The bag didn't feel too heavy once I put it down onto the small bench and tugged on the sides. Who would've left random things into my locker? I could see the end of a spiral bind notebook on the side, as well as a folded piece of cloth and a...what else was there...I leaned down a little and peered into the bulging bag to see whether I could find clues to its ownership. My paw reached into the bag and touched something round. I grabbed it and lifted it up, and recognized it as an ordinary jar of hair gel.

"Crystal, is that you?"

Her mane had been quite energetic today, I thought dully as I put the can back into the bag. Maybe she'd needed some extra space for her stuff and noticed that my locker was open and...

Weird. There was a spare one there, still with the name "LOLA" written on a piece of tape plastered on the door. She could've used that instead of mine...

Something brushed against my fingers when I was putting the can down, and I curled them, and felt them close around something. I looked down at my egressing paw and noticed that I'd tugged on some cables. I pulled some more and the shiny metal connector on the end came out. The ear buds soon followed, lifted up to my eye level.

"Hmmm..."

Damn, was this Mason's bag? I dropped the earphones gently over the piece of folded white cloth on the bag and then grabbed the bound notebook. That'd be bound to be evidence to the owner of this mystery bag in my locker.

Damn!

One of my claws snagged on one of the metallic rings and made the whole notebook tilt in my grip and spill a few pieces of paper onto the floor.

"Shit!" I muttered.

I put the notebook down onto the bench and leaned over as carefully as I could to grab the papers. Shit for being clumsy now! I grabbed an A4 from the floor and picked it from the corner to put it down to the bench, because it'd be easier for me to just pick them all up and then stuff them between the pages of the notebook again. If only I could've knelt...

I dropped the paper onto the bench and was leaning down to pick the next one when my eyes flicked over it.

It was a photograph, taken from the side, obviously, of Mason, with his arms around the waist of a very well familiar shirtless lynx, and their muzzles were pressed together in an unmistakable kiss.

HOCKEY HUNK CONTINUES

THIS FALL AS

SEASON FOUR!

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