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A November Saturday afternoon, well into the football season, became my turn to meet some of Aleksandr's friends. I confess that I was more than a little nervous; as an old bear who hadn't enjoyed sports that much when I was being ridiculed and taunted back in school, I had little knowledge of American football beyond the rudimentary basics of the game itself. I had no idea of rivalries, grudge games, offside rules, and so forth. I could only hope that I was sufficiently interesting enough in my own right to carry whatever conversation might occur.

I arrived at the door to Aleksandr's apartment at a time some 30 minutes or so before kickoff. I wasn't sure if there were a definition of "fashionably late" to a televised football game, so I decided upon early. Besides, in my experience, no one ever disapproved of a guest arriving early if said guest also bore food. I balanced the large party-tray of snackables on one paw and knocked with the other. I had visited Aleksandr's apartment several times before, and if I'm expected, I usually just let myself in (we had given each other keys to our homes some time back). However, since there were to be other guests, I thought a little politesse might be in order.

After a few moments, the door opened, and a young white mouse stood before me, blinking up at me a little owlishly (if you'll pardon the species profiling) through wire-rimmed eyeglasses. He smiled quickly and said, "Hi - you must be Tristan. Come on in! I'm Gerry, by the way, Gerald Pinter."

"Tristan Black Wolf," I said, offering a paw to shake, which he took readily enough. "Good to meet you." I stepped across the familiar threshold and looked across to the living room to see a lithe, well-made cheetah curled up on the sofa in the casual embrace of a sleek, muscled, jet black panther whose eyes were glued to a pre-game commentary. In another chair, I recognized the muzzle and body characteristics of the wolf/fox cross known as a "folf" - a silly-sounding name for an often beautiful mix of species. This young fellow's fur ranged from light tan to sweet cream, and his thick, lavish tail was full and well-kept.

Before introductions could be made, Aleksandr swept regally in from the kitchen. "Tristan! Welcome!"

Showing excellent intuition, Gerry took the party tray from me as my great lion put his arms around me and kissed me warmly, with a hint of a purr accompanying his affections. The combination, as usual, threatened to activate certain bodily functions more appropriate to privacy, and I did my best to keep myself focused. Aleksandr pulled back slightly, his eyes gazing into mine for just a moment longer than strictly necessary, and all I could do was smile back and enjoy it. I wasn't sure yet how much affection we should share in front of his friends... although I confess, I wasn't sure if I were being considerate or merely lacked boldness.

Aleksandr turned, his arm about my shoulder. "I see you've met Gerry; let me introduce Logan..." the folf smiled at me with the slightest touch of knowing appreciation, being in Aleksandr's embrace "...Reed..." the panther looked up as his name was spoken, nodded to me "...and DeShaun."

The cheetah sat up and smiled at me. "Call me Dasher; everyone does."

"Not for any sleigh-pulling at Christmastime, I expect."

The slim cat laughed good naturedly. "Track and field," he said, "high school and college both."

"Congratulations!" I grinned. "As you could guess, my specialty is the forty-minute mile. OW!" I reached a forepaw up to my head; Aleksandr had fetched me a "Gibbs-slap" for my self-deprecation. "Hey, don't I even get to joke about it?"

"Aww," the lion mocked with all good humor. "I'll kiss it and make it all better." He suited actions to words, hugged me again. "Come on, off with your coat and let's get you mingling. I've been telling them all about you for so long that they're even more curious about you." Taking my coat, he leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "Glad you're here,dorogoy."

"I assume this is for everyone?" Gerry asked, brandishing the snacks tray and grinning. "I hate to indulge in species stereotypes, but I do love my cheese."

I laughed. "Ask Aleksandr about my penchant for honey! And yes, this can just be set on the table for everyone to nosh from, if you'd like. No need to stand on ceremony."

"Forks or fingers?" my lion called from the kitchen.

"My germs can kill your germs," I hollered back. "You need any help in there?"

"Wouldn't that be too much distraction?" the folf asked, a twinkle in his eye.

"Logan, be nice!" Gerry admonished with a smile.

"No worries," I said grinning. "I suspect you know a thing or two about being distracting yourself." I stepped up to offer a paw, which he took gently but firmly. "Forgive my own stereotyping, but having done voice acting myself some years ago, I've seen models not half as interesting pass through my agent's door."

"I'm flattered, thank you!" The young folf looked at me with appreciative and only slightly appraising eyes. "I've only done amateur work so far, but I'm putting together a portfolio to take around to various agencies. Perhaps yours?"

"He retired some time ago, as did I. However, I'd be glad to see if I can find any new places who remember my old badger from the Mad Hatter Agency. And from what little I know, you're doing exactly the right thing - building up a portfolio to show off your skills."

Logan looked toward the kitchen and called out, "I like him!"

"And rightly so!" the lion rejoined. "Tris, something to drink?"

"Dr. Pepper, if you've got one."

"One Doctor for the professor, coming up."

I laughed and maneuvered myself to a chair near the empty, oversized recliner that everyone present apparently knew was Aleksandr's personal throne in his own kingdom. I looked about, settling in, and I realized that I was not only the newcomer, but the oldest one of the bunch. I had the feeling that I would do well if I could somehow set them at ease. "So," I said to the room in general. "Pardon my ignorance - I'm not exactly up on sports as much as I might be. Who's playing today? And who's side are we on?"

The panther smiled at me with good-natured indulgence. "Buckeyes and Badgers this week," he said with appropriate enthusiasm.

"Okay, I know Buckeyes, that's Ohio State, right?"

Reed nodded. "The Badgers are Wisconsin."

"Do they count as cheese-heads, or is that only the Packers?"

Dasher chuckled. "Usually just the Packers, but anyone or anything from Wisconsin could be cheese-related."

"Works for me!" Gerry grinned, helping himself to another square of his admittedly favorite food. I noticed his long hairless tail twitching in what I hoped was unrestrained delight. "Tristan, you went all out; this is an aged Gruyere!"

"Just wanted something different," I smiled. "I wasn't sure what else might be on the snacks list."

"You're in for a treat," my lion declared from the kitchen. "That's all I'll reveal for now."

Logan looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "There's a double entendre if ever I heard one!"

"Pass!" I laughed. "I'll try to bring at least a little decorum to our first meeting!"

Aleksandr padded out of the kitchen, proffering a full, cold bottle of dark, sweet liquid and, handing it to me regally, produced a very respectable raspberry.

"Spasibo," I chuckled.

"Pozhalujsta," he replied. He kissed the top of my head, grinning, and went back into the kitchen.

"So okay," I resumed to the remaining company, "who do we root for?"

"Buckeyes!" Reed said with some enthusiasm, punching the air and jostling Dasher, who didn't seem to mind too much. "We'll walk all over Wisconsin today. They're not up for it."

"I'm not so sure," Gerry said quietly, frowning.

"Whadda ya mean?" The panther seemed almost personally offended by the presumption. "The Badgers are lame, and the Bucks are rarin' to go!"

"Maybe," the mouse conceded. "But the Buckeyes might not be focused on this game; they're looking ahead to next week, when they play the Wolverines." Gerry looked at me and explained. "Michigan and OSU is a big grudge match, and OSU wants to be ready for it. And remember that one of OSU's best running backs was injured a few weeks ago; they'll keep him on the bench this week to save him for the big game, so they'll be playing with a bit of a handicap. And the Badgers have had a good season this year, and they know that they're underdogs, so they'll be wanting to be extra-tough today."

Reed looked at the mouse with a dumbfounded expression. "How...?"

Gerry shrugged. "I crunch numbers and statistics all day, Reed. I do it with football, too."

"But the Badgers are three-to-one underdogs."

"Five-to-one, from the bookies this morning." He flushed guiltily, he ears twitching. "Not that I'd know anything about that..."

"Didn't have any money riding on that, did you, Reed?" Logan asked with a chuckle.

"Just a pool with the guys at the warehouse," he mumbled. "Shit," he said, then looked guiltily in my direction.

I smiled gently at him. "I'm a writer, Reed. I know lots of words, including that one. Aleksandr even taught me how to say it in Russian!"

After a moment, the panther snorted. "Got any words to describe this situation?"

Thinking a bit, I nodded, saying, "I think 'shit' covers it pretty well, actually." This got a laugh from the assembled company. "Are the bets big?"

"Pretty nickel and dime, really, but I've got a reputation to uphold." He smirked a bit. "If we don't win today, I'm likely to hear about it all week."

Gerry waved a dismissive paw. "Brag about your boys all week long and double-down on the Bucks against Michigan. I'll crunch some numbers that'll make 'em all pale!"

The laugh was warm and welcoming. "I like the way you think!" I said. "We need to get you crunching numbers to win the lottery."

The mouse almost giggled. "There may be a few ways to reduce the odds a bit, but no real fixes. That's a game where the odds are always stacked against you. It's like playing Keno in Vegas - worst odds in the house." He put a paw to his muzzle quickly, attempting to cut short a burp and only partly succeeding. The blush appeared on his cheeks so fast that I thought something was genuinely wrong with him. He seemed to shrink back in himself a bit. I noticed that Logan looked particularly concerned, although I wasn't sure why.

As a slightly awkward silence descended on the room, I leaned over to the table and selected a segment of very salty soft pretzel, dipped it into some cheese sauce, and consumed it with gusto and a large slug of Dr. Pepper as a chaser. After about fifteen seconds, I produced a singularly deep and prolonged belch of the sort that came directly out of the second_Revenge of the Nerds_ movie. The assembled company stared open-mawed as, from the kitchen, Aleksandr applauded and cried out, "Author! Author!"

Sipping more delicately from my bottle, I grinned at the assembled company. "Three elements by which one judges a belch, my good furs: Volume, resonance, and hang-time." As Aleksandr's guests tried to regain their wits, I laughed gently. "I'm an old fart, guys, not a saint. And I'm not here to find out if you're good enough to be Aleksandr's friends. More likely, I'm hoping that I'm good enough for you guys to want me to visit once in a while."

Reed, his attention momentarily taken away from the television, raised his beer in salute, took a healthy swig, and provided his own musical rendition for our entertainment. By this time, Aleksandr stepped into the living room, grinning from ear to ear. "I see you've made yourselves comfortable?"

A thumbs-up from me and Reed, as Dasher, Gerry, and Logan fell into fits of laughter. My great lion stepped over and tousled my headfur. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?" This comment, for whatever reason, caused Logan to double over and laugh even harder.

Aleksandr leaned over and kissed the top of my head again, then announced to all, "Seems I've run out of one of my secret ingredients. I'm going to run down to the corner store and grab some. Anyone need anything?"

"I can go, if you'd like," Dasher offered, starting to rise.

The lion shook his great indigo mane. "Not at all. Kickoff soon, wouldn't want you to miss anything. The place is just on the other side of the apartment complex anyway."

"I'll make sure to fill in the details for you," I said, "although I predict that some guy is going to throw the ball to some other guy, and there'll be lots of bodies in motion."

"Clearly, I won't miss a thing." Aleksandr laughed and headed for the door. "Don't be too rough with my bear, guys; I'm hoping to keep him around for a while."

This got the expected round of howls, snarls, and other forms of sexual noises; Gerry made a musical production that sounded like "Bow-chikka-wow-wow!" I grinned, a little embarrassed, making a wave of the paw to match that of the Royal Family passing through the crowd. "Thenk yaw, thenk yaw," I replied.

"So, tell me,schatzi," Logan grinned, leaning toward me. "What really brought you two together? Aleksandr swears it was a beach ball."

"That, and Dostoevsky," I nodded, grinning. I told a brief version of our meeting this past summer, and how Aleksandr had wanted to learn more about Russian authors. "I guess you could say that I caught him with my brain," I chuckled. "We started spending more time together, and things just sort of... happened."

Gerry looked at me with admiration. "I'd like to think that I'm a romantic, but that story blows me away. Talk about beating the odds."

"I hope so," I said, feeling a bit more laid bare than I'd intended.

Logan reached over to pat my paw gently. "I wouldn't worry," he said, smiling. "If even half of his stories about you are true, he'll be with you forever."

I blushed furiously, murmuring thanks. "I hope they're good stories."

"The best."

"Maybe that's why he and I didn't last so well." Reed spoke then, as he sipped is beer, his eyes widened. "Oh, crap... did I just...?"

I leaned forward and looked at him kindly. "I have to admit, Aleksandr didn't tell me about you."

"Hey, it was a long time ago. I mean..." The panther blushed furiously.

"Reed," I said, my voice soft, "don't apologize. It's only that I didn't know, not that I wasn't supposed to find out. I know that Aleksandr isn't a virgin! And if you'll forgive me saying so, I can see many reasons why he would be attracted to you."

"Not for my brains," he said, rising and heading toward the kitchen. Dasher looked concerned as the panther walked away. Reed hunted the refrigerator and returned with another beer.

I stood up and walked over to him. "Reed?" He paused looking at me. "I want you to do me a favor." I put out a forepaw, and after a moment, he took it in his own. I made him look me in the eye. "I want you never to apologize for yourself again, not to anyone. I've only just met you, but I think I like you just as you are. And Aleksandr must think highly of you to be your friend."

Reed's muzzle wore a lopsided smile. "I didn't want to cause any trouble."

"You haven't. I promise you." I smiled. "Come on, let's sit down. I figure I'd better get to know you now; after the kickoff, we're going to be focused elsewhere!"

Chuckling, the panther went back to the sofa, and Dasher curled up with him as before, giving me a quick, appreciative glance and a smile. "Well," Reed said, "not much to tell. I work at a warehouse, stocking, shifting stuff with a forklift, doing inventories and all. Not very exciting."

"Just as well it isn't me," I said, settling in my chair again. "My lifting and shifting days are long over. And I should tell you about the one and only time I tried to shift a forklift - hit the wrong lever, nearly dropped a crate on a guy's hindpaw!"

The company laughed a little, and I felt more ice breaking. I was glad of it. "So Tristan," Dasher asked, "are you really a professor? It's what Aleksandr called you a little while ago."

I see-sawed my forepaw in the air. "Kinda sorta," I said. "I snuck in the back door. Truth is, the junior college here needed someone to teach some courses in English, and I offered them a low-budget way to hire me. I'm what they call an 'Artist in Residence,' which means that I don't have my Masters or PhD, but I've published enough books, stories, and articles to let them overlook that minor handicap."

"I knew you were a writer," Gerry said, then blushed a little. "I'm sorry, I haven't read your books."

"You're part of the vast majority of the world, my friend!" I laughed. "Not that many people know of me, or my work."

"I'm not much of a reader," Reed said, smirking a little. "I'm one of those guys who joked about Aleksandr always having his muzzle poked in a book. I guess I never saw the point of it very much."

I nodded. "A lot of folks don't. I think schools actually search for ways to make students hate to read anything at all. I'll bet you got stuffed with books you didn't understand, by teachers who probably didn't know much about them either and who weren't paid enough to really care about it." Seeing Reed nod (as did Dasher and Logan, for that matter), I asked, "What book did you really hate, back in high school?"

Looking a bit sheepish, Reed said, "Does Shakespeare count?"

"He usually trumps everything else!" I said, grinning. "It's been four centuries, and the language has changed so much, not to mention social and historical perspectives."

"I_hated_ Shakespeare!" Logan confessed. "I know every aspiring actor hopes to perform his work one day, but it was awful!"

I held up a finger. "Make you a deal, or rather a bet: I'll bet that I can make you change your tune from hating Shakespeare to hating the teachers who didn't know how to show it to you properly. I can't promise to make you_like_ Shakespeare, but I can promise that I can make you understand it enough to realize that it's actually pretty good stuff."

Logan looked to Gerry, grinning. "Wanna make book on that one?"

The mouse grinned. "If I did, I'd say 5:3 in favor of Tristan. I think he could do it."

"You gonna try to make me into a reader?" Reed asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged. "Maybe. Depends on whether or not you get interested in something enough to want to read about it. What's one of your passions? Besides Dasher," I teased.

The cheetah chuckled as Reed considered. "Cars, mostly. Not just engines, but how they get designed, how they get thought-up. Or is that a word?"

"More than close enough, Reed," I assured him. "Okay, go with_The Betsy_ by Harold Robbins, or Wheels by Arthur Hailey. Those are fictional accounts. Have you heard of a car called the Tucker? Named after--"

"Yeah, um..." The panther snapped his fingers briefly. "Preston Tucker! Yeah, they made a movie about him."

"And several interesting books as well." I sat back, smiling. "Got your attention, at least, eh? See, that's the problem - they made you read, but they didn't show you why you would want to. There are whole worlds, if you think you'd like to explore them."

"What have you got for a statistician?" Gerry grinned.

I waved a paw at him. "You're easy! The_Foundation_ books by Isaac Asimov. He created the idea of a psychohistorian - someone who predicts the future from the past through intricate statistical concepts that he called psychohistory. You'd be into it!"

Dasher asked, "So, do we have to sign up for your class?"

"I'll run a little meeting with you guys right here, or at my house, anytime you like. We could make it a casual serve-yourself buffet dinner, and we'll talk about it - Shakespeare, Hailey, Robbins, Tucker, anyone you like. No charge, and I'm providing food."

"Change those odds to 7:3 in your favor," the mouse chuckled. "It might be fun. Whadda ya think, guys?"

"Follow your spirit," Dasher pronounced, "and upon this charge cry, God for Tristan, Aleksandr, and Shakespeare!"

My eyebrows attempted to climb into my hairline as I laughed openly with the cheetah. "Someone knows_Henry V!_" I said.

"Only a very little bit," Dasher said. "I'm one of those guys who loves to have a quote for every occasion. I just adapted it a little." He looked at Reed, teasingly asking, "Don't hate me?"

The panther squeezed the cheetah close to him and kissed his muzzle. "Maybe brains can be sexy too." He grinned. "I still have no idea what you were talking about, but it sounded good."

"Can you work the same magic with Hemmingway?" Logan asked.

I rolled my eyes. "My dear Logan, even I can't do the impossible!"

The folf and I shared a good laugh as we heard the sound of a key being put into the lock. Gerry got up from his place saying, "I'll see if Aleksandr needs help."

By the time the young mouse had gotten to the door, it had opened fully, revealing not Aleksandr but a tall and very muscular German shepherd clad in loose-fitting camouflage dungarees and a tight-fitting muscle shirt of dirty olive drab, as if he were just dropping in after having gone through military maneuvers somewhere. The look in his dark eyes was sharp, an anger barely held in check, an attitude of someone ready to start trouble for any reason, and hoping that the reason will present itself.

Gerry flinched, gasping. "Roy, I don't think--"

"One side, rodent." The shepherd pushed the mouse aside with enough force to knock him down. Leaving the door open, the dog moved with menacing slowness toward the living room. I saw Reed stand but hold his ground. The visitor looked at Logan with an appraising leer. "So, you're Tristan? Did the big cat decide to go for a pansy for a change?"

Logan seemed pinned to his chair, staring up at the shepherd with undisguised fear. "What?"

"Just a little pretty thing, aren't ya?" The dog put a hind paw up onto the arm of Logan's chair, rested an arm on it and leaned down toward Logan's face as the folf tried to lean back and away from him. "Lion's going for the frilly-pups now, is he? You just look so frail and cutesy-wootsy. You look like you'd break in half, in a strong wind. All those... delicate features. Maybe he'd change his mind if you didn't look so pretty for him anymore."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Gerry bolting out of the door. I could only hope he was going to get help, but I was glad he was out of the middle of all this. Reed spoke up. "Roy, I don't think you need to be here."

"Hey, it's game day, Reed! You know, beers, belching, real male stuff... nothing like little pussy Tristan here would be into."

"Actually," I said standing, my heart in my throat, "you'd be surprised. For one thing, you've got the wrong guy. I'm Tristan."

Pardon the cliché, but it's only true: The look on the shepherd's face could have been comical in another situation. His astonishment ran so deep that he became both confused and furious at the same moment, and I had no idea which of the emotions he'd give vent to first.

"You've got to be freakin' kiddin' me," he said at last. "He threw me over for_you?_ You look old enough to be his grandfather!"

"Here and I thought those anti-aging creams were helping."

"I don't know if I should be amused or insulted."

"Amused takes less effort," I offered. Something in my head was remembering the old adage of_keep them talking until help arrives._ I was hoping that it would work in real life as well as in the movies. I sensed more than saw Reed slowly positioning himself to the shepherd's other side; Dasher, interestingly, was moving in behind me, perhaps to close the circle.

Roy picked up his hind paw from Logan's chair and made slow moves toward me. I noticed the folf almost falling over the other side of the chair in an effort to get clear of the shepherd, and I didn't blame him a bit. The bulk of muscle approaching me was intimidating to say the least - not as big as Aleksandr, but then my lion never approached me with mayhem or even murder in his eye. The dog stopped just in front of me, close enough for me to smell a cloying mixture of exertion, rage, and alcohol wafting toward me as if it were the first wave of attack.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he said, as if the statement somehow held its own truth, not to be disputed. "You're Tristan?"

"I thought we'd already established that. Did you want to see my driver's license?"

The shepherd, only slightly taller than myself, did his best to look as if he were looking a long way down his nose at me. "Mouthy fucker, aren't you?"

"Yes, we professorial types can get wordy. Sorry."

"Professor. Yeah. He said that." He looked at me in a way that suggested he could solve his problem quickly, maybe without breaking any more sweat than he already had. The scent of his hostility deepened, and I struggled against my hindbrain reacting to it with shivering, yipping fear. "Like he was taking classes or somethin'. Got so's I couldn't get any time with him anymore. Like he didn't even wanna have sex anymore. What were you teaching him, how to turn into a female?"

"I can assure you, he's very much a male." I took a chance and twisted the knife a little. "He's every last centimeter a male."

"Oh, have you two fucked?"

I gave the appearance of considering the question. "If you mean have we had mindless, meaningless sex of the sort you're probably used to, I'd have to say no."

The shepherd shifted from hind paw to hind paw, looking around as if in disbelief. "What now, you tryin' to say I don't know how to fuck?"

"No, I'm saying that's probably all you know how to do."

His right forepaw lashed out suddenly to smack me in the chest - nothing damaging, but surprising and definitely felt. "Watch your mouth."

"That's your second assault this afternoon; the first was against Gerry. Against Logan, that was probably third-degree menacing, which is a class B misdemeanor in this state." I did my best to smile at the dog. "Hope you haven't got a record for this sort of thing; if so, it would make multiple charges--"

He pushed at me hard, and I fell back into the chair. Dasher helped to catch me so that I landed more easily; without that assistance, I might have fallen into the chair with enough force to dump me backward onto the floor.

"That's enough!" Reed announced, advancing toward the shepherd, tail lashing. "You aren't welcome here, Roy. I thought Aleksandr made that clear enough when he took away your key."

Smirking, Roy brandished his key ring in his left forepaw. "Duplicates are cheap and convenient. These are a little more expensive." With a skillful flourish of his right forepaw, he brought forth from his pocket an elegant Balisong knife of the sort fancied by undisciplined martial arts enthusiasts. His grin redefined "evil" as he unfolded the butterfly blade and waved it in a conspicuously casual manner, snakelike before my eyes. Reed started to move toward him, but the pup turned enough to make the weapon a threat to the panther.

"Wanna risk it, kitty boy?"

"You really_are_ an ass," I managed to whisper.

The shepherd bent back toward me, holding the knife blade closer, his expression cold, compassionless, dangerous. "And that tongue should be kept in your muzzle... or maybe in my pocket, as a souvenir."

Suddenly, the air in the room was shattered by a roar louder than a jet engine at full power. Aleksandr burst in through the open doorway, running directly at the shepherd. In something under two seconds, my lion had grabbed the shepherd by the upper arms, pinning his arms to his sides and lifting him off the ground. Reed ran up and punched the knife out of the dog's forepaw; Dasher scooped it off the floor and folded it back into itself. I became aware of Gerry running back into the apartment, spotting Logan cowering in the hallway that led back to the bedroom, going to him to check on him.

For a very long moment, all I could really hear was my own rapid, thudding heartbeat. Aleksandr held Roy just above his own eye level, perhaps a quarter-meter off of the floor, unmoving save for his savagely lashing tail, staring at the dog with an expression of barely restrained fury. The shepherd had enough sense not to challenge him, but a sneer curled his lip anyway. I could see every muscle in my lion's body tense, proving the old statement that stress is the body's reaction to refraining from beating the crap out of an asshole who really deserves it.

"Are you all right?" Aleksandr asked in something close to a whisper. No one needed to ask who he was talking to.

"Yes, I'm okay. I think we're all okay." I glanced over at Gerry and Logan; the folf was still shaking, eyes wide and near tears, but he managed to nod, as did the mouse.

My lion took several more deep breaths, his fiery antique gold eyes never leaving Roy's face. "So," he said at last. "You just had to come back."

"Check out the competition."

"Trust me - you're outclassed at every level."

"You know you want me," the dog snarled quietly. "You don't want that fat old--"

Aleksandr shook the shepherd only once, but so hard that the dog's head looked as if it might fly off at the neck. He yelped like a whelp just once, when his sharp teeth caught his own tongue in the whiplash.

"You really don't want to say anything about Tristan, except how nice it was to meet him." The deep, growling voice dropped almost to a whisper. "Do you understand me, Roy?"

"You threatening me? What kind of laws is he braking here, professor? I think he could rack up a lot more than you claim I have."

I shook my head. "All defensive, and he hasn't used unreasonable force." I swallowed. "Yet."

"Don't tempt me," Aleksandr whispered, the raw menace in his voice chilling even my own blood. After another several seconds, he said, "Reed, how would you feel about grabbing the other half of this guy and making a wish?"

"Yeah, I could do with a jump on Turkey Day." Reed cracked his knuckles, adding the perfect touch to the threat.

Still staring at the dog, my lion said, "What do you think, Tristan?"

"To borrow from Robert Heinlein, killing him would be only a momentary pleasure, and it's bound to get us talked about."

"You have a point." Slowly, he set the shepherd's hind paws back on the floor, not releasing his grip on the dog's shoulders. "Who let you in?"

"He still has a key," Dasher supplied.

Aleksandr nodded. "Dasher, would you be so kind as to visit the apartment office - just round the corner to the left - and ask them to call the police and to call their locksmith?"

"You got it." The cheetah ran through the open doorway so quickly that I thought I heard the rush of air behind him.

"You gonna turn me in?" Roy's voice was unsteady.

"If I could turn you into something, it would be something more closely resembling a real male. But despite my resemblance to Aslan, some miracles are simply beyond anyone's ability. The police will take statements regarding why I want the lock changed. It will also give the apartment complex a reason to put a restraining order on you, should they wish to."

"And what," Reed asked quite reasonably, "shall we do with this mutt until then?"

"Tristan, correct me if I'm wrong - we can make statements without pressing charges. We can give this flea-ridden cur a chance he may or may not deserve. The statements will be on file in case he tries anything on any of us again."

I nodded. "That's how it works."

"Just one thing, before you let him go." Reed stepped up to Roy, reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet. Opening it, the panther withdrew several of the bills he found there and put them into his own pocket. "He owes me for making me spill my beer."

"You fuckin' thief!" the dog protested.

Reed shoved the wallet back into his pants. "Got a witness?"

"I'm damn near blind," I said, "after he knocked my glasses off."

"I was taking care of Logan," Gerry said, his face set.

"Didn't see a thing," the folf managed quietly.

Slowly, Aleksandr smiled, and his expression bore no pity or comfort. "You will leave now, Roy. You will not resist; you will not remonstrate. You will never come back here. And I swear before whatever gods might be listening, that if you do anything to harm me or my friends, I will not stay my paw from ripping open your miserable throat." He pulled Roy's muzzle close enough for him to bite it off. "Do you understand?"

To his credit, the shepherd didn't piss himself, but I laid a bet with myself that it was a damned near thing. "Yeah," he managed to whisper. "I got it."

"Then I will escort you to the door." Aleksandr shifted his grasp on Roy in a single swift motion, grabbing the back of the muscle shirt in one paw and the back of the dungarees in the other. He lifted the dog off the floor once again, took two huge steps, and literally threw him out the door - a distance I'd estimate of perhaps seven meters, not counting the skidding slide across the blacktopped parking area. He left the door open, perhaps all the better to help air out the apartment.

Reed looked impassively out the door, then to Aleksandr. "That was a good hundred kilos of trash you just threw out. You been working out again?"

"I'm just pissed off enough that I won't feel it for a while." He walked over to where I still sat in my chair, stopped a short distance away, and took a deep breath. As he exhaled, I could see him pushing the anger and upset away from himself, actually see some of his muscles forced into relaxation. Only then did he come kneel before me and take my forepaws into his. His eyes, intensely concerned, focused on my own. "Are you all right?"

"I'm okay,dorogoy," I told him. "I'm okay. My nerves are shot to hell, but I'll recover from that. Help me up?"

He moved back slightly and helped me to stand. He wrapped me in his powerful embrace, and I held on to him for quite a while. I'm not sure which of us was shaking, possibly both of us. We broke apart, realizing that we had others to tend to. He saw Reed was all right and moved to help Logan and Gerry. I knew none of us had any physical injuries worth noting, but we were all pretty shaken. I moved over to Reed and thanked him.

"What for?" he smiled ruefully.

"Well," I said, smiling a bit, "how about for being an ex who isn't a complete jerk?"

The panther laughed. "Okay, I'll go with that." He looked at me carefully. "That doesn't bother you, that Aleksandr and I are still friends?"

"Far better than the alternative," I said, nodding to the door. As Reed chuckled, I said, "Let me offer you what I hope will be a definitive answer." With that, I stepped up to him and hugged him softly. After a moment of surprise, he returned the hug and chuckled quietly in my ear.

"Hugs are good," he said, "though it still feels a little faggy to me sometimes. I guess I'm not too good at showing my feelings."

"No worries. After all, you know why athletes do the whole hand-slapping thing?"

"Why?"

"Because kissing delays the game."

Reed laughed, then looked shocked. "The game!" he said. "We probably missed the kickoff!"

With that, he went back to the sofa and got himself caught up in the action he had come here to enjoy. Grinning, I went to help Aleksandr take care of Gerry and Logan. The folf was still bemoaning what he called a lack of courage. He looked at me, nearly in tears. "You stood up to him. I just ran off."

"Logan, he was looking for a punching bag." I smiled. "Tell me, do you think you could have done much good by letting him hit you?"

"But he would have hit you too!"

"Yes, but I've experienced violence before. I've been punched a few times in my day. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I figured Reed and Dasher would have helped somehow. You've never been in a situation like this, have you?"

The folf's expression changed. "Not like this, no. I've been yelled at by homophobes, but I've never had someone actually..." He shivered. "He really would have hit me... Oh gods, he'd have...!"

"Come here, Logan," Aleksandr said softly. He bent over and picked up the folf tenderly, rising and taking him into the bedroom. Laying his charge gently on the bed, he moved to pick up a comforter to put over him. The folf's eyes seemed clouded, as if he were a very long way away. "Logan, can you hear me?" Aleksandr stroked the stricken pup's headfur gently. "You're going into shock. If you haven't had it before, don't worry; it's a very normal reaction, and we'll be here to help you. It feels worse than it really is. Just know that it really does go away after a while. The comforter is to keep you warm, and we're here for anything you need. Gerry, could you stay with him?"

"Of course." The mouse climbed into the bed and sat next to Logan, taking a forepaw into his own. "What should I do?" he whispered.

"Just be with him. This should pass by itself in a little while. In the old movies, this would be the sort of thing they'd offer brandy for." Aleksandr smiled at the mouse. "You'll be fine. If anything changes, we'll be in the next room."

My lion and I returned to his living room to find that Dasher had returned with news. The local police would send someone by within the hour (since there was no emergency at this point). The office said that the locksmith would put on a whole new lock, handle, guard and strike-plate. They weren't happy about the altercation, but they knew Aleksandr well enough to know that he didn't bring it on himself, and he had the witnesses to prove it.

Each of us had his share of shock to get through. Reed seemed to sublimate it by getting his mind into the game. Dasher joined in as best he could, although his real comfort was to cuddle up to his lover as much as he possibly could. Aleksandr and I both shared that particular therapy, each of us paying what attention we could to the game and otherwise just holding each other until the shaking subsided. By half-time (Buckeyes up by 3), we had gotten back to feeling something closer to normal - just in time for the local constabulary to come by to take statements.

We - meaning the officers as well as the witnesses - agreed that a general composite statement would be simplest all around. Reed, Dasher and I began the descriptions, and Aleksandr added his own information starting from the point where he came in. We held back nothing (Roy had, after all, volunteered to pay for the spilled beer). I was right that all of Aleksandr's actions would be considered defensive, particularly after the appearance of the knife (which Dasher gave to the officers--such items were of questionable legality in this state), and apparently Roy had not shown up at any emergency room making claims of being beaten up. I went to the bedroom to see if Logan was up to giving his statement; both he and Gerry told their own version of the story, which matched up well with the rest of us, so the officers were reasonably satisfied with the account and left us not long into the third quarter of the game. Gerry and Logan opted to stay in the comparative quiet for a while longer, and I didn't blame them a bit.

The locksmith arrived shortly after the game had ended, and gave Reed lots of sympathy over the unexpected ending - Buckeyes lost by 4. Alexander went back into the kitchen to see what he could salvage of his preparations, and Dasher moved over on the sofa to sit close to me. "Are you okay?" he asked me softly. I nodded, perhaps a bit too quickly, and he took my forepaw into his and squeezed it. "You showed a lot of guts today."

"Oh dear, have my shirt buttons popped off?" I quipped.

The cheetah smiled gently at me and squeezed my paw. "Aleksandr is right; you deflect a lot."

Gently chastened, I nodded. "Especially when my emotions run high. I think I'm still a bit fried after all that. I don't know what to say, how to act. I'm afraid I'm going to do something stupid, so I play the clown."

"It's okay. You're among friends."

I looked at him, his eyes smiling as much as his muzzle, and I finally felt my heart again. Dasher anticipated my hug perfectly, leaning in to accept it, his long arms wrapping around me and holding me close. "Thank you," I whispered into his ear, wishing I had something more original to say.

"Hey!" Reed hollered at us. "You stealin' my boyfriend over there?"

I turned to the grinning panther and answered, "No, just holding him hostage until you agree to come learn about Shakespeare."

He paused, moving his paws in the air as if they were scales weighing the point. Dasher turned to him and produced a particularly eloquent raspberry. Reed chuckled and sat down on the cheetah's other side, and almost faster than the eye could see, they were in each other's arms, sharing kisses and laughter. That, I decided, was my cue to check on Aleksandr in the kitchen.

I was surprised to see my great lion sitting on the floor of the kitchen, his back to the wall between the refrigerator to one side and the pantry to the other. His eyes were closed when I first walked in; he opened them when he heard my approach, and I saw that he had been crying. I stifled an urge to cry out, went over to him and sat down on the floor in front of him. He reached out his forepaws to me and I took them in my own and squeezed them tightly. For long moments, we simply sat there, gazing into each other's eyes. What I saw frightened me a little, as Aleksandr's sorrow seemed bottomless. I wanted to ask a thousand questions, yet somehow I knew that I needed to wait just a little longer.

"I," he whispered, "have never been so scared in my life."

My eyebrows asked the question, urged him to continue.

"Gerry came running toward me as I left the store. He could barely tell me what was happening, but he told me enough." He took back a paw long enough to wipe his eyes, then reached back to me. "It wasn't something... I didn't think he'd come back." My lion fixed his beautiful, aching golden eyes on me and said, "He might have killed you."

I shook my head. "Hurt me, no doubt. He doesn't have the strength to kill."

"I do."

My blood chilled on the spot as his whisper rang in my ears.

"That scared me even more. When I saw him there, threatening you with a knife, I all at once knew that I could kill someone. Tristan, if he had really hurt you, I don't think I would have stopped myself. I think I'd have killed him. I think I'd have ripped open his neck with my teeth. I would have ripped him apart with my bare paws, and kept ripping until the pieces were too small to inflict any more damage on."

I gripped his paws tightly as he gripped me back. I could feel him shaking, see fresh tears in his eyes. I wanted to find words, to explain to him... but he already knew the truth. For once in my life, I shut up and just held on.

"I've never known that about myself," he whispered. "I've never faced that about myself. Didn't think I could ever..." He stopped, swallowed, tried to calm his thoughts. "I'm not a fighter, not someone who wants to solve things with brute force. I wasn't a bully in school, and I didn't hang around with the jocks who were. Maybe because I read too much," he chuckled, and I managed to join him. "This was the first time that I... I've broken up a couple of fights before - my size makes that easy. This time..."

He dropped his chin to his chest, fighting off the fear in him. The adrenaline had long left; he had stayed calm to help me calm down, and he contained himself when the police were here. This was the moment when his emotions finally rebelled enough to be expressed, ready or not. He slowly raised his head, breathing in something more than a bushel full of air and letting it out slowly. He opened his eyes and looked at me, asking questions that, for the moment, I had no answers to.

"Aleksandr," I said softly. "You have told me so often that I needn't apologize for having feelings, or for expressing them. And you've reminded me that I can't always measure feelings, or understand them, when they are strong in me. I hear you, and I feel with you. And more than ever, my_dorogoy,_ I love you with all my heart and soul." I kissed his paws and looked into his eyes again. "I'm here for you, and I love you."

He rose to his knees and leaned over to hug me tightly. I felt his chest hitch, felt fresh tears on my shoulder as I held and rocked him in my arms. My gentle giant, my beloved protector, cried silently for several minutes, letting out pain and fear, giving vent to doubt and making room for his heart again. At length, he pulled away from me slightly, letting me see his calmer expression, and then he leaned in to kiss me, long and deeply. I ran my fingers through his beautiful mane, knowing that he had returned. We had much to talk about, but not now. For now, we let ourselves feel that the first healing had begun.

"So," I said, nodding to the stove. "How's your recipe?"

"A few things I could put in the refrigerator to save, but truth to tell, I'd like to get out of here."

"Stay with me tonight?"

He nodded. "Please."

"How about the others? Shall we end the party, or...?"

Aleksandr considered a moment, then said, "Let's take a vote."

Moving into the living room, we found Reed and Dasher in an oddly quiet mood. I sat on the sofa as Aleksandr went to the bedroom and knocked discretely. "You guys okay?" I asked the couple.

"In some ways, I'm not sure," Dasher replied. "I think the adrenaline is gone, but I'm still feeling shaky."

"I'll second that," Logan said as he and Gerry reentered the living room. I noticed that he didn't sit down, and that gave me the answers we needed.

In short order, I explained how we all were having varying degrees of shock, and that we probably would be better off not staying in the apartment that evening. All of us going to my house would cast a pall over future meetings, I felt, but separating right then didn't feel right either. It was early enough in the evening that I suggested instead that we all head to a local pizza and wings joint, my treat. Reed offered to buy a pitcher or two for the table, and I noticed with some interest that Logan and Gerry seemed to wish to stay together a bit longer as well.

We spent a few hours in a friendly environment, picking up threads of earlier conversations, telling stories and terrible jokes (most of those were mine, I admit it), and repairing emotional bonds between us. The evening ended fairly early, as all of us seemed more tired than we thought we had a right to be. Phone numbers and addresses were exchanged, and we set a tentative "class" for next Thursday night. Gerry promised to crunch some interesting numbers for the Buckeyes/Wolverines game next Saturday, and another game day was put together as well.

Aleksandr and I went back to my home after dinner and went to bed early. We made love that night out of a deep and powerful need for each other, and we held each other afterward, not wanting to break the contact. I wasn't sure if we should talk, or exactly what we should talk about. My lion broke the silence first.

"We have some talking to do," he said softly, "although I'm not sure if this is the right time and place."

I smiled in the darkness. "Snuggled up next to you is always my favorite place. We can talk about anything... or nothing."

He pulled me even closer to him, and I returned the compliment with a kiss to his muzzle. "Truth is, I know the answers to all my questions,dorogoy, as if you'd just given them to me. I just don't know how to accept it all."

"What do you find hardest to accept?"

Sighing softly, Aleksandr said, "That you saw me like that."

"Like what?" I touched a finger to his lip before he could answer. "I need the words, love. What is it that you think I saw?"

He nodded slowly, and I removed my finger. The great lion thought carefully, knowing our promise to tell the truth, especially to ourselves. "All the words that come to mind are exaggerations, like 'crazy-eyed murderer' or something." He managed a wan smile. "I wasn't lying earlier, to you or to Roy - if he had hurt you, love, I really think I'd have killed him. You saw the darkest side of my rage. And I guess... I'm not quite sure how to say this, maybe... maybe I'd like to think that I've outgrown rage."

"Is that possible?"

"I'd like to think so."

I brushed his cheek with my forepaw gently. "Oh my beautiful, noble lion," I said smiling. "Emotions that powerful will always be part of us, sometimes as rage, sometimes as ecstasy. We may not be able to help what we feel; it's what we do with those feelings that makes us who we are. You stopped Roy from hurting me, or any of us. You didn't even give him much of a bruise, much less kill him."

"This time."

"And that's the only time that counts. There may never be another time, and if there is, you'll have to decide again what you'll do." I paused, shifted so that I could look into his eyes in the soft darkness. "I know you'll make the right choice. Whatever you do will be the right choice. And I love you, and your choice, now and always."

His lips spread slowly into a small smile. "And that confidence will stay my paw where nothing else would."

We kissed warmly and cuddled up together again. Another step toward healing, for both of us. As I relaxed further into the quiet moment, my lion spoke again.

"So you still love me, even though I used to be involved with Roy?"

I shrugged. "I can't question your taste; after all, you picked me. Maybe Roy was just a momentary lapse of judgment?"

"That's the nicest thing that he could be called. I can think of lots worse."

"I agree. Reed was a much better choice."

A long pause. "He mentioned that?"

"By accident, I suspect."

Aleksandr groaned. "I never had a chance to tell you. I'm sorry you had to find out that way."

"I can see far greater attractions to him than to Roy."

"You're not upset?"

"Furious," I deadpanned. "Outraged. Positively livid. I shall have to punish you with a spanking."

"Promises, promises."

The conversation deteriorated into laughter at that point. Suffice it to say that we both slept well that night.