Curiosity and the Cat
#24 of Hockey Hunk Season 4
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*
"Well, I think I really must be going now," Cobb stated after a glance at his phone that was already being stuffed into his pocket, "I bet Victor's already home and feeling hungry, and he never turns down a small steak with some onions and a nice puree."
I snuffled and suspected that it was Cobb who would never turn down a small snack of the sort described, but I smiled politely and hoped that would satisfy the Dobie.
"Well doesn't that sound nice!" Peter declared, one paw rolling about an empty glass that had contained some orange juice he had consumed previously while I had braved the coffee...or more like, the possible effects on Cobb thereof.
"Oh I bet!" Cobb's caffeine-fueled ears swiveled while he pushed his back chair with a great scraping sound on the bare floor. "Not that I mean that your fish was bad but it's been, what, an hour and a half now, and I think that I'd like some meat now!"
"I think I'll refrain from commenting," Peter said sweetly, while my tail practically smacked the wall behind me.
"Heheheheh!" Cobb chuckled loudly as he got up to his considerable height, stretched out in quite the pleasant-looking manner, and stared down at the two of us cats sitting there, gazing up to his expansive self.
"Nice seeing you again, Cobb," I said, "give Victor a hello from me."
"Ohhh sure I will!" Cobb grinned. "I'm going to tell him all about our little chat! Peter told me so many things about you, Rory, that I bet that now I know more about you than even Victor does."
Peter smiled at the Dobie, and I gave the cougar a wide-eyed look at that statement, wondering whether Cobb was exaggerating things, or if Peter had actually dwelled into the very depths of our ten years of various forms of association. Some it might be a bit too much for the innocence of Cobb, I suspected.
"Hehheh," I said.
"It was such a pleasure to have you over, Jacob," Peter said, bowing his head courteously at the Dobie.
"It's cool!" Cobb declared.
Peter started to get up.
"Let me show you out, then."
"Oh, no no no no!" Cobb waved his paw expansively. "You guys just chillax, I know the way, heheheh!"
Peter's paws froze on the edge of the table, and his ears flicked curiously, before they settled into their usual positions and he simply nodded.
"As you wish. Don't touch the walls when you go, though, if you might. I'm a bit difficult with walls."
"I shall try not to stumble," Cobb winked, tail wagging, I could tell. "Well, thank you again, Peter, and it was nice seeing you, Rory, and heheh, see you around!"
"See you," I mumbled.
"Hehhey!" Cobb grinned. "I better rush now. See you gays....hehehe....guys....heheh..."
He kept on chuckling as he disappeared into the living room, and for about thirty seconds, Peter and I sat in silence, listening to the sounds of Cobb putting on his shoes, crashing against a chair, shuffling the coat rack, and then finally opening the front door, which was followed by....
"BYEBYE PETER, RORY, BYE!"
"Bye!" Peter chimed.
"Bye!" I added.
The door closed with a loud thud, which made ours ears jump, and then the only sound present was the hum and gurgle of the dishwasher Peter had turned on just around the time the coffee and biscuits had been served. I had my own mug in front of me still, with about half an inch of dirty brown cold liquid on the bottom, and the familiar scent lingered in my nose, along with the natural scent of Peter, and a big helping of Cobb. I wondered if it was going to stick in the apartment, somehow. Peter probably wouldn't like that. It reminded me of Victor, too...something in that lingering mixture...not just the scent of the fur and skin...maybe it was also the washing detergent smell, too...that, of course, would be unavoidable, because surely they shared the same washer for the moment.
I was shaken out of my olfactory reverie by a snuffle from Peter, who was now scratching his arm most pleasantly, I suspected, and giving me the eye.
"Well that was interesting," he mused.
I rumbled.
"Talk about an understatement," I breathed out, finally feeling that last knot of tension in my belly uncoil now that it was just the two of us again. "Good grief..."
Peter chuckled.
"I could tell the caffeine kicking in, I think," he mused. "Certain kind of...intensification..."
"That's not what I meant," I replied.
Peter's brow lifted.
"Really now?"
"Uh huh."
Peter stopped scratching and folded his paws over his lap again, facing me directly across the table as he sat there, back straightened up, the image of good posture and bright eyes. I was more sprawled on my own chair, legs spread to give comfort for my poor limb. It felt alright for now, though I suspected there might be some ill effects later on.
"What's up?" he asked calmly.
"Well quite frankly I've no idea what was going on here," I said. "What's with this?"
Peter shrugged.
"I can have guests over if I like. I am only agoraphobic, you know, not socially phobic."
I huffed.
"That's not funny," I said.
"Weird," Peter mused, fingers delicately stroking over his arm in a not-quite-scratching motion again, "I can still barely stop laughing."
I snorted. He was being awfully coy now, and not in the old cute way. This was more like trying to get on my nerves deliberately way, I thought, not to my pleasure.
"Yeah?" I mumbled.
Peter folded his paws together as if planning to confess a few sins to our Almighty Lord, and tilted his head a little as he gazed at me.
"Well look at him now," Peter said," where do you find these furs, Rory? He's fascinating!"
My maw almost fell open. Fascinating now? Peter must've noticed, because he chuckled again.
"Well, quite so."
I shook my head.
"Well I don't like this," I said, watching him carefully now that I intended to speak up my mind, everything that had been brewing in there since this morning, "you're having these strange mood swings today, Peter. I mean, you were normal in the morning and then you were all gloomy and now you're giggling and..."
Peter's tail swayed behind him as he looked at me, his lips slightly pursed in a half-contained smile.
"Are you claiming that inviting Cobb over is a sign of mental illness?" he rumbled. "That's not really very nice on your boyfriend's brother, or me..."
Those words gave me a bit of a stop.
"Well..."
Peter snorted.
"Well you don't meet the family of someone who's just a hot lay," he rumbled.
"I didn't exactly choose to meet Cobb," I stated.
"I know, but you've kept on meeting him nonetheless," he said, "sometimes by choice, even."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"It has to do with everything," Peter said. "You're going out with Victor, you're involved with his family. It's getting quite serious in my view."
Now...I guess he wasn't wrong, either...but I wasn't sure what to think of that. We'd only known each other for so long, and it had been such a tumultuous time, too, with all the drama and hassle and...well....
"Come on, I know you too well," Peter spoke before I had the chance to fully turn into myself for solace in this dilemma of thoughts and brewing feelings, "you're really hopeful but don't want to go all out on it yet because you don't know how it's gonna turn out."
I rubbed the side of my muzzle and the base of my ear and made a nonchalant face. I supposed he was right...well...of course he was right...he was the one I had vented to, telling all about everything that had went on, and he had listened and nodded and told a few things I needed to hear, and the things I didn't want to hear, and then some.
"Of course I can't know!"
"He seems decent enough."
"It's not just that."
"So it's you then," he said. "Snap out of it if you really want to see where it's all going. You won't be getting there otherwise."
"What does this have to do with me being worried about you?" I asked pointedly.
Peter flicked his ears at me.
"Everything, I suppose," he said, "since you probably wouldn't be this hesitant if you didn't think that I'm fragile."
"You are fragile!" I snapped, looking at him passionately. "You -"
"Goddamn right I'm fragile," Peter's voice went lower as he grumbled to me, sitting there and staring at me defiantly. He was always like that...when my voice rose with excitement and aggression, his went lower, and it made the furs on the back of my neck prickle in a familiar way. "I am strong because I know I am!"
I swallowed. Peter breathed in and out, rapidly, deeply.
"I hurt," he said, "I hurt all the damn time, and the only thing that tells me that I'm alive is that I hurt!"
I swallowed. He was breathing heavily again.
"Peter...."
"It doesn't help that you're guilty," he said.
"Guilty?"
"Look at yourself," Peter spat, "just back from a hot date at an expensive luxury hotel, and you look like you went to a funeral instead!"
"Peter..."
"It's not going to help, so please quit it before I can't stand it anymore," Peter huffed. "I can't take it on top of everything else."
"What about this morning then?" I retorted. "What was going on this morning when I was leaving for work and you started to fall apart on me?"
"You can't blame me for feeling a bit lonely after having you here for days on end," Peter snorted, not sounding as defensive as I might have expected.
My skin was prickling under my furs, and my racing heart wasn't making it any easier to stay calm and measured about this, like I had planned during my ride from the hotel to here...configuring my thoughts for an enlightened talk about everything, to make things amiable and clear. Shame for the Cobb intrusion on that plan. That one wasn't in my contingency plan book.
"I wasn't blaming you."
"It sure sounds like that to me," Peter hissed, "and guess what, you're right, too. I was falling apart, and once you left, I went to the bedroom and cried in bed for fifteen minutes."
My heart sunk even lower, if possible, and my ears surely did that, too, because Peter was soon to snap his paw against the table. My ears jumped, as did my eyes, sharply. Peter was still staring to me.
"Yeah," he snorted.
"Peter I'm..."
"I know you're sorry, but it's not your fault," he said, "nothing you can do about it."
"But it sucks!" I said. "It sucks that you hurt!"
"Life is pain," Peter grunted.
"What's with the guru talk?" I rumbled.
"How else do you want me to put it?" Peter said. "I've had the shit kicked out of me and I'm a bit trashed because of that, but I know what it is and that's why I survive at all."
I sighed.
"The way you talk about it..." I breathed.
"This is the really fun part," Peter snorted, "the one where you support those who try to support you."
The corners of my eyes burned. I knew Peter was not doing it on purpose...damn, I hoped he wasn't, but it was still getting to me. This was not easy. My ears were flat.
"Come on," Peter's tailtip flapped against my ankles, almost startling me to jump in the process, "I forbid you to do this."
"I'm worried about you!" I said. "You just told me you had a nervous breakdown because I left for work!"
"I did, but I rebounded back quickly," he said, "it could have been worse."
"I don't like it if it happens at all," I rumbled, "I don't..."
"I know you care, Rowreeh," Peter whispered. "I know you do. Stop hurting yourself because of it."
"I hurt you!" I snapped. "I -"
"Enough, you're giving me a headache," Peter snorted. "You know I can't take painkillers, so I'd prefer not to need them."
I bit my teeth together. Peter rubbed his paw over his face and snorted into his palm before his eyes were uncovered once more. They were still quite sharp, and looking into mine, and I wasn't sure whether I dared to look back.
"'I'm sorry," I mumbled.
"Good, so am I," Peter began to scratch his belly. "So damn sorry."
"You don't have to be."
"I don't like what I am," Peter said, "I hate that shit that this depression makes me do. I detest it whenever it takes a hold of me. I hate it when it happens. I hate it so much that I almost like hating it, because that means I feel something and the pills haven't taken all of me away."
If only I could just get up from this chair and put my arms around him...I could only look at him now.
"But I fight it, goddamn you've made me fight it," he said, "forcing me to run around town rescuing you from all sorts of trouble."
"I'm sorry about that."
"Don't be, it gives me life," he said, "hell, it gave me that calling card that I used for getting that Cobb's phone number."
"What's with that?" I moaned. "I just..."
"I didn't know who else to call," Peter said. "It just happened and...well..."
"Did he behave?" I asked cautiously.
"Of course he did," Peter chuckled. "Why do you talk about him like's he's somehow unable to take responsibility for himself? He's obviously an intelligent man who runs his own business. Quite successfully, too, I might say, by the sounds of it. No wonder he can take the time off to be with his brother."
I harrumphed.
"Don't tell me that Cobb's loaded," I breathed tensely.
"Depends on how you define loaded," Peter winked.
"Peter..." I warned.
"From how I understood it, he's quite comfortable, financially, and so is his sister," the cougar replied.
I wasn't sure whether that was meant to be an assuring comment, but I held on.
"Millionaire Cobb," I said aloud, trying to envision the Dobie strutting around in an expensive suit with a Rolex and talking into a gold-plated mobile phone asking James to serve the caviar and champagne when he'd get back home from the mayor's charity ball.
"Probably not quite, but maybe he'll get there one day," Peter mused. "Maybe they'll sell it off for a good profit and move to the Bahamas or something."
Hmmm...now I couldn't help but think of Victor walking out of the sea onto the white sand, wearing only small swimming trunks...dripping water...shaking it off...wow...possibly followed by Cobb wearing flippers and a snorkel mask...
"Maybe," I shook myself out of it before the sexy music would start playing in my head.
"And he obviously cares for his brother," Peter continued, "though sometimes he speaks a bit faster than he thinks, I suspect."
"I've noticed."
"I'm sure you have."
I rubbed my chin and I sighed briefly.
"I almost pissed myself when he showed up here," I said, "I don't know what it is about him that does it, it's just..."
"He's a bit much alright, but not that that much," Peter's tailtip tickled my soles now, through my socks.
"I guess."
"I know it's a big thing for him, too, seeing his brother involved with someone," Peter said. "He's quite the family man, I'd say. It's quite refreshing, I think. How many times did my parents come and visit me and George? How many times do they come to visit just me. Or yours, for that matter..."
"Well I can't accommodate them, and they don't want to spend on a hotel so often," I defended myself half-heartedly, "but I get the point."
"So, enjoy it," Peter said, "he's probably had his share of intense meddling in his brother's affairs by now. And besides, when he goes to Chicago, he can only attack remotely...so you should be safe."
"He already invited us to visit," I rumbled. "Victor and I as his houseguests in Chicago for a weekend."
"Sounds fantastic", Peter said innocently. "Just make sure not to sleep in a room next to his."
I made a face. Peter snuffled.
"Are we good now?" I asked tentatively.
Peter gave me a long look.
"Maybe we are."
*
Thank you for reading! Hope you had a fun time, hope you'll comment, and I'll see you on Friday!
Cheerio!