Just What the Doctor Ordered
#36 of Hockey Hunk Season 4
S04E24
Hehhey, everyone, and welcome to the Hockey Hunk! You are most graciously invited to peep into the lives of our protagonists once again, and I am very pleased to see so many of you tune in every Monday and Friday, to enjoy yet another chapter. I think that now that we're into the second half of the season, we shall be seeing an increase in the pace of drama, and many fun things to come!
Thank you for your comments - once again, I must say, your feedback is most important, and it really is what tells me whether I am doing a good job or not. So, thank you, everyone! You guys are helping to make this into something special.
As always, please remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!
This chapter is dedicated, due to natural reasons, to Gritou and
Perrin Wolfbrother , for the simple fact that Wolfbrother has agreed to become Mrs. Gritou. Congrats, boys! *applause* I suppose it is not a secret that these two met each other via reading The Hockey Hunk, so let us all jubilate for the blooming of the first real life Hockey Hunk romance!
Have a good read, everyone!
*
"...it makes ze volrt go rount...a mark a yen a buck or a pount all zat makes ze vorlt go rount zat klinkin clankin zount...can make ze vorlt go rount..."
_ _
Okay table thrumming solo....
"... money money money money money money money money..."
_ _
And the audience goes wild...
"...If you happen to be rich unt you feel like a night's entertainment you can pay for a gay escapade..."
_ _
Tehehe.
I leaned back on my chair, folded my thrumming-numb fingertips against my neck, let my tail coil itself about my outstretched legs, under the desk, and let out a satisfied purr. Perhaps I shouldn't have been going through my mental choreography for Money while I was supposed to be going through that thick stack of summer essays...even looking at the pile made me feel like I was going to break out in hives. All that effort and especially all that grudging effort placed onto that stack of neatly printed A4 sheets, bound, enclosed in my personal filing system of manila folders, allowed to grow into skyscraping proportions amidst the stacks of book sample books and other decorum belonging to my academic office, and with the computer screen taking its own space too. Sitting ex cathedra as I was, I really should've been doing something serious, of course, and not just meddle with my little extracurricular class...
...but it was all going so well!
I picked up the cardboard cup from the desk where it always stood by my computer mouse, and was glad to feel the warmth seeping onto my palm. That meant that my tea was still nice, and that meant no need to revisit the staff room yet, and that possibly meant time for another chorus of "Money"...
"Sssssip", I smacked my lips as the pleasant aroma lingered on my tongue, filled my nostrils, and encouraged another purr from my chest. Now didn't that feel if ever! My, my, the world would be worse off if it wasn't for the invention of warm caffeinated beverages. It was raining outside even now, too, which meant ever the greater need for some internal warmth. At least the old brick walls were keeping any possible chills out, however inconvenient and improbable. It was gentle summer rain, rap-rap-rapping on my curtained window occasionally, likely leaving little wet trails that conjoined into small streams that would then drip drip dribble onto the window sill and clash into the great beyond that was the backyard and its parking allotments.
"Hmm..poetic weather...unpoetic circumstances..."I reminded myself, rolled the takeaway cup on my palm, and as I put it down, I hit the computer mouse to awaken my screen again, to bring out the text I had been staring for the past hour or so. My notes on the topic were scribbled down on a piece of paper nearby, with the pen resting on top of it. There were only a few points there yet. I hadn't been working too hard yet, I thought. Preoccupation with this afternoon's rehearsals wasn't helping any, either.
"... when you haven't any coal in the stove..."
_ _
I hummed the rest of the stanza, for the pleasure of humming, did some more thrumming, and wondered how the run-through would go. Reilly and Stephens had truly worked hard on the number, you could tell, and the sheer excitement to act and perform and to..let loose was so evident in their bright young eyes. Considering that they were supposed to be the stars of the musical, that was of course necessary for the very success of the show! Harvey was doing fine, too, of course, his Cliff would become something special, I hoped, not to mention all our supporting players...all rearing up and ready to splash out into the open. How marvelous! Only a few more hours until there would be prancing and posing aplenty, and my, my, did I ever have to congratulate myself on managing to recruit a most visually pleasing cast for my off-drama-faculty-production. How else would the psychology major Reilly and the various English majors get those shine in the limelight without being...outshone by the local drama queens. Oh, my...
Well, that was probably a naughty thing of me to say. I had many friends in the drama faculty when I was studying here, and I was in polite terms with the staff, of course, since I had smooched off the practice hall for my from them, and the piano, and the orchestra, and the...well...well, everything, but they had plenty. They could spare some to poor little Nicholas Faye and his eager troupe of amateur actors and singers, even if it required some kitten eyes from my part. Dear, dear.
Oh well. All work now, though. Should get back to reading these article so that I'll be in top notch condition to teach this on the autumn term. only 760 more pages to go.
"Knock knock knock"
Well, my my! My ears hopped as the door popped with the sound of the knock from beyond.
" Rat tat-ta-tat ," I purred our, glad for the reprieve from reading once again, as I stood upright on my chair and adopted and adopted a suitably thoughtful academic lion posture behind my desk.
"The door is open sweetheart! Come on in!"
Oh my, what questioning soul would I get to direct now...probably to something you could read on the faculty web page...but nonetheless...
The door swung open, but what emerged into my room was not a student lost and confused, but a rather familiar character in the shape of a cougar wearing unseasonably warm clothes, clutching a bag, and wearing a white mask over his face that did nothing to hinder recognition.
"Sinclair!" I ejaculated.
Peter Sinclair stood in my doorway, but not for long, for he stepped in and closed the door with his elbow before he remained still, watching me, with subtle motions of his ears and a gentle back and forth of the fabric covering his face, as he breathed.
"Nicholas."
I clapped my paws together and smiled.
"Sinclair, what a wonderful surprise!"
"Hello to you too. I hope I am not interrupting."
"Ohhhh by no means!" I smiled. "Please, sit down!"
The white fabric folded upon itself.
"I prefer to stand, if I might."
"As you wish, of course," I spoke as I studied his thin frame, "How are you? Are you here on business or is this just a most delightful social call?"
"A little bit of both, I suppose," Sinclair replied. "I have some transcripts for Professor Hartnell, and since I never got around to answering your email yet, I thought I would do so in person."
"Aha!" I smirked. "So this is a social visit after all..."
"If you prefer to call it that," the mask replied.
"Could I get you some tea?" I pointed at my cup. "I would have to fetch it from the staff room, but that would only take a jiffy..."
"No thank you," Sinclair said. "I only drink things that come from a sealed container I have opened myself. There is no knowing what's growing inside a filthy electric kettle that's been used by two dozen furs for who knows how long without being washed."
Hmmm...talk about a big no. I didn't stop smiling, however.
"Bottled water then? Soda? The old machine is still where it always has been."
"I am completely fine," Sinclair rumbled. "I appreciate the sentiment."
"Well, then..." I rumbled. "How are you? What have you been up to? Surely it's not just the fascinating dialect project that is keeping you busy."
"We all have to earn a living, however meagre," Sinclair replied. "I only work part-time, anyway. I get a small disability pension that covers the rest."
I gave him another look, observing his thin body, his slightly stooped frame and that strange mask. I was not sure whether the matter-of-fact tone spoke of resignation, or something else. It was somewhat difficult to tell. He didn't let go easily.
At least I was always up for a challenge!
"Does the kidney transplant prevent you from working full time?" I asked, "Were there complications?"
Yes, I did read up on it on the Wikipedia after our first chance meeting here, out of curiosity, and they did say that most recipients ended up leading quite normal lives after their transplant. I gave him my most curious, gentle smile. I watched him quietly, and he looked back to me.
"Physically, I'm healthier than ever since I became ill. There is a chance of rejection and opportunistic infection, but I am careful."
"Hence the mask?" I proposed.
"I don't want to take any risks with crowds," Sinclair said. "It only has to be one sneeze carrying a particularly unpleasant strain of PCP pneumonia, and that'll be all it takes."
"I see," I nodded.
"Opportunistic infection does not make for much chitchat," Sinclair rumbled. "I'm sure you want to hear something juicier..."
"Well I would not put it past myself..."I smiled, hoping that it would be a good message. "With all due respect, but I don't know what to say about it."
Another snuffle from my cougar guest. Sinclair's tail swept the air.
"Well, Rory is still staying with me, for now," he said. "He's walking better now, though."
"Ohhhhh yeeees," I nodded. "That car accident! How is he?"
"He is quite fine now," Sinclair replied. "His injuries were not permanent."
"That is lovely to hear," I smiled, my ears in motion. "It would've been such a shame."
"Indeed."
"So is it really that you are not together?" I couldn't help but ask, since that thought had been nagging on the back of my mind ever since I saw them together, those weeks ago. It had seemed so very convenient. Hadn't they been inseparable back in our college days as well? It had seemed so clear...so very potential. I wanted to learn more. You know how it is when old queens converge...
Sinclair gave me a long look, and took some time scratching his arm, before he finally answered.
"It simply never happened," he said, with finality in his voice.
"Never say never!" I smiled.
"Rory is seeing someone," Sinclair replied. "It seems quite serious."
"Oh?" I perked. "I remember that he was going steady with that...what do you call him..."
"Graham is what you would call ancient history," Sinclair said. "He is seeing someone else now. And I don't think I should gossip about Rory, really. It's not very polite."
Always so steadfast...
"Of course," I nodded. "Of course, I understand. A small town...furs would talk...they always talk...they even talked in London, you know, and their local rainbow population is most sizeable...and catty...eheheh..."
Catty...and mustelid...hmmm...
"Something like that."
"And you, Sinclair?" I winked. "Are you seeing anyone?"
"My partner George died last November."
I was off my chair and going for him with my arms wide before I had even time to think about what he had said - the message was clear enough, and I was moving immediately, and he stepped back, so that he was practically pressed against the door, and lifted his arms up and held them up.
"No touching!"
I stopped as quickly as I had started, my tail darting behind me as I regained my footing and stood there, only a foot away from the suddenly heavily breathing cougar. His eyes avoided mine, and I wondered if I had offended him terribly, and I felt the weight in my stomach, I truly did, as I wondered, and watched him, and wished that he'd allow at least a gentle paw on his arm...or something.
"I am truly sorry," I whispered as I let my paws fall to my sides. "I am so very sorry...I shouldn't..."
"Cut the crap," Sinclair snorted, his mask ballooning up. "You didn't know. You couldn't know. Nobody told you. Now you know. End of story."
"But I am still so very sorry that I brought it up. It can't be easy."
"It's not, but I can't let myself go into pieces every time he's mentioned," Sinclair grunted. "I've done enough of that."
My desire to hug multiplied once again, but I decided to only give him a gentle look and a smile instead, as I slowly retreated behind my desk, to give him his space.
"I...I see," I said.
"Good."
"I'm recently...single myself, actually," I continued, not sure what it would mean, but perhaps it would do well to carry on the conversation as normally as possible. "I had a...well, a thing..."
A thing indeed...
"Oh."
I flicked a paw.
"It was an amiable ending, though. We decided that the Atlantic Ocean was too much of an obstacle and called it off in best spirits," I hurried to say as I settled back onto my chair. "It wasn't that serious, after all."
But it was something.
"I see," the cougar rumbled.
"It is fiiiiiine," I stretched out my paws up aboce my head. "It's..."
"Knock-knock."
"Oh...," I stopped, "come in!"
Sinclair stepped aside as the door opened, and quite the pleasant sight met my eyes again, this time in the form of the adorable and...interesting gush of cool fjord air from Scandinavia, complete with tuff-tipped ears and a smile to warm up a whole room amidst the woes of winter.
"Hawk-on!" I declared.
"Professor?" the backpack-wearing feline stated in his fine voice as he peered into the room, noticing my guest, whom gave him a look in return. "If you're busy, I can always come later..."
"Don't mind me," Sinclair rumbled. "Please, go on. I am just visiting, your Professor isn't occupied."
That handsome head and its soft eyes jumped between Sinclair and me, a couple of times, before he looked at me again.
"Okay..."
"Yes," I smiled. "What is it, Hawk-on?"
The mottled boy scratched his neck and smiled quite broadly, flashing many beautiful teeth.
"I was just checking that we got the rehearsals at three, because I was just heading out and I wanted to be sure I'm gonna come back at the proper time."
"Oh yes!" I smiled. "Three PM sharp it is! We're gonna take it from the beginning, so everyone has to be there for the opening, of course."
"Sure!" the mottled boy grinned. "See you around then, Professor!"
"I shall see you indeed, Hawk-on!" I smiled.
Hawk-on waved his paw and then he was out through the still open door, which he softly closed with a tiny little thump, leaving me together with Sinclair again. I couldn't help but smile still. Such a cute tush...
"Excuse me," I said, turning to look at the bemused cougar now, "always busy...heheh..."
"Perhaps I shouldn't keep you too long, then," Sinclair said, "I have my meeting with Professor Hartnell in...fifteen minutes or so..."
"Nonsense!" I declared. "I am definitely not too busy to have a nice chat with a friend! Besides, you didn't really answer me yet!"
"Hmmm?" he flicked an ear.
"My proposal for coffee, of course!" I clapped my paws together. "In case you have forgotten..."
"How could I?" he replied in a pointed tone. "Your letter was as elaborate as ever."
"Thank you!" I smiled. "I did want to approach you in the best of terms."
"And you did."
"I did!!" I said. "So what is the answer? Would I get the pleasure of sharing coffee with you under circumstances you'd approve?"
Sinclair flicked his ears.
"I'm still considering."
"I take that as possible yes!" I grinned.
"You can make your assumptions."
I snapped my fingers.
"Now I get it!" I said.
"Humph?"
It all seemed so clear now - why didn't I think of this before?
"A moment..."I rumbled as I swivelled around on my chair and began to dug into the pile of papers and other items on top of the small cabinet in front of the window, "I've got something here..."
"I really should be going now, Nicholas..."
"Just a moment!" I my tail looped behind me as I moved away a few magazines and a stack of papers, before the plastic-wrapped item appeared in my view. "Here!"
I turned around on my chair and presented the item in my paw, for his reach.
"Here you go - a gift!" I said. "Have you seen this yet?"
Peter glanced at the item I held in my paw and shook his head.
"I think I've heard of it but I haven't seen it."
"Oh but you'll love it!" I beamed. "Everyone is watching Downton Abbey over at the UK! And this is the original I got from Amazon, because I read that PBS re-cut the series and it made a total mess out of it! This is the real deal, and it's still in the package since I didn't have the time to open it and watch it...so...if you'd like to borrow it..."
Peter stared at the glistening plastic wrap and the DVD held within, and I suspected that he was thinking hard on the possibility.
"It's got a small gay plotline too..."I smiled.
He contemplated for another moment, before he stuck his paw into his pocket, produced a white, strong-smelling wet wipe, and grabbed the other end of the DVD with it before he stuffed it into his bag.
"Thank you."
"Let me hear what you think!" I smiled.
"I must be off now," Sinclair said. "I'll get back to you."
"I shall look forward to that!" I replied.
*
Thank you for reading my story! I hope you had a nice read, and hopefully you'll feel like commenting as well. All feedback is always greatly appreciated. Also remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well.
See you on Friday with more Rory!
Cheerio!