FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The airport is in a constant state of commotion, a never-ending torrent of furs washing in and out the sea of shops and aircraft terminals. It's packed tight in here, back-to-back furs with so many different scents and colors it could easily set your head spinning. Everyone has his or her own agenda, meeting, greeting, leaving; it's all the same. Me, I'm scanning the crowd for my mutt, for my best friend, for my fiancé.

Three months this time; a simple trip down south to do more auditing work for a couple big companies, that's his work. Meanwhile, I spent the past two weeks in a cancer hospital up in the northwest corridor of the United States. It's hard to have a stable life together when both jobs involve never standing still. He's business I'm medicine; we coexist together like water and ice. We are two separate states of matter that still share the same core material. Our jobs are vastly different but fundamentally, we share one core concept, one material.

Constant travel.

To most, the way we live our lives is nothing more than a huge aberration. People ask me at work about my weekend, I respond with visiting my fiancé. They ask what we did, assuming I'm going home. I tell them "him" and "in Motel 6 in the next state". They're confused and not very amused at times. I'm dirty but only mentally. It is ok that they are confused though, the nature of our relationship is...ever changing like our geographical location, distance, and well...lives. Somehow though, somehow I'm engaged to the greatest dog in the world...and my parents would kill me if they knew. I haven't talked to them in ages, haven't talked to anyone important in ages really, with the constant amount of travel I do. Only small chat with ever changing faces at work. Seems the only person in my life, that keeps me from ending up another causality of the over worked and suicidal is Skylar, my not-so-constant constant. I think about him every day, and talk to him whenever I can. Our jobs tend to keep us in different locations for extended periods of time but every once in a while we'll end up close enough to meet. It's always been this way, even when we met. It's actually how we met, on a plane.

Usually there isn't much I can do about where we meet, because it has to be at a hotel somewhere in the middle or at a restaurant for short visits. However, there are rare occasions like today, which we actually can go home, to our home; a home neither of us have been to consistently in about four months. I was there two weeks ago but it is beside the point, he's coming home! And we can stay for more than one night together!

Usually we communicate by phone. We send each other lovely pictures of the local scenery or care packages, but never really more. We try not to send any "naughty" pictures because it's not quite the same as when we meet up. Usually we can get together twice or three times a month depending how long the stay is and things run pretty smooth. Recently however, Skylar had to spend time over seas before relocating to Louisiana directly. Something happened on the news with some big firm in China and in essence he bounced from one job right to the next with no in-between period, unusual and unfortunate. Communication has only just been reestablished, as it was difficult for us to sync up time zones while working most of our waking hours.

So that led me here, only receiving phone calls and texts about how much he wants to see me and I flush at the thought of being in his arms again. More importantly, I cannot wait to finally have sex in our own bed after so long. My hands are twitching with excitement at the thought.

I just wish that it wasn't so long. So much can change in four months, and it worries me.

My tail feline twitches now for other reasons than thoughts of sex.

There are so many furs here that even if I know which gate he's coming out of, which I do, I going to have to look carefully. He's distinct, has an akita like curly tail, black, white and amber features, peridot eyes and is built like a line backer. Shouldn't be hard at all to spot in this crowd, never missed him once before. It's pretty close quarters at the moment in here though and I'm feeling a bit hot. I step off to the side to pull out my phone and check messages. Nothing yet, but I'll keep it in hand just in case.

I watch a large sheep dog unite with another group of sheep dogs: wife, probable two sons, and I feel another twitch. This one involves my stomach and it bothers me. Watching these furs; seeing reunions, relatives greeting, siblings bonding, brothers, sisters, cousins all coming together and the joy it brings them, I'd be lying if that twitch wasn't jealousy. And normally this wouldn't bother me, except it's been happening more and more frequently. Especially now, having to wait three months to see my fiancé, I feel its safe to say the jealousy is envy at this point. I'm envious that I can't have that kind of simple life, envious that I live my existence around airports and hotel rooms. I have not been home in two weeks, he's not been home in four months; I haven't seen my parents or siblings in five years. I chose this path, worked hard, got to really see the country like I wanted to, fly around, save lives, make a difference for others, and now...now I'm getting feelings, vibes that say otherwise.

I want stability, I think and I'm not sure how to go about it.

Not the settling down level stability, no, there is still that giddy appeal I get when we meet at some discreet location for some romance and sex. It was stronger a few years back, having that almost not-so-secret secret relationship that was always on the move, always changing, always fresh, but now...now it feels like we are still dating and not getting married. I almost want there to be some structure to this barely focused mayhem we call our future. Our future seems to be referring to two separate futures rather than a shared one. Plus I love my job, I really do, being a traveling doctor is something once in a lifetime and I don't want to cop out just yet. No, I just want it to feel more disciplined than running around like teenagers behind their parents' backs. More than seeing my future husband once every four months. I also want to talk to him regularly, meet more than four times a year at our dismally silent apartment. He knows my life, he lives it, and he also shares my love. It's not that I don't get to see Skylar I do; it's just that I don't see him enough and when I do its not in entirely favorable conditions.

Ever try and fuck somebody in heavy traffic while still driving the car in Texas heat? It's more unpleasant than it sounds and it sounds hard.

That however, can be for another time.

I don't know why I didn't think these things through before we became engage but I guess I really didn't take in what it meant to be married until a few weeks ago. This whole life of juggling work and finding time for each other after made sense then but now, I'm concerned for us. Can it work? I hope so, I really, really do. Skylar...means more to me right now than I mean to me. I mean, what really is my life right now without him, a demanding job, and a travel experience?

I witness an elderly cervine couple with a young boy (grandson?) walk down the hall paw in paw wearing what looks like Disney World apparel, and it makes me reflect. Is it worth it, life that is, if you have all this experience, all these memories, and no one to share them with?

I'm feeling twitchy again so I check my phone quickly confirming that his plane should be here any minute. I don't know what to make of all these conclusions I'm drawing suddenly. Maybe it's due to my recent bought of extended loneliness. I have been working in pretty grim conditions, cancer ward and all. There are many suffering and dying furs. The kind of level of misery, coupled with increasing isolation from my mutt has certainly been putting a damper on my mood. Maybe I'm just horny and emotional too. It's a good possibility if not evident in my raunchy thoughts. I don't really know...but I'm damn certain I will not be having my last fond memories with my soon to be husband fucking me sideways in the back of a rent-a-car. Jesus, that was four months ago in Texas. We did it in the blazing heat during a car accident.

Again, not going there today.

My snug cotton t-shirt feels more like a second skin at this point. It's abnormally hot in the terminal today and with so many furs and so few methods of ventilation, I'm not the only one struggling to keep cool. Many furs have damp collars and obvious pit stains and even a few lucky enough to have button-downs open them to expose their bare chests to the moist air.

All of the exposed torso's and musky, overbearing scents makes my mind go right to him, to us curled up on the floor of the living room, naked of course with wine and some Norah Jones. I'll run my paws down his thick frame feeling every inch of soft fur and firm flesh contort to my gingerly touch. He would say I have some true cat paws, lithe and gentle. I'll smirk at that and lie across him in a true cat like manner; his 200-pound bear-like physique dwarfs my not too terribly toned frame. My paws would dig back into the smooth black and white and amber fur and run up until they collect around his nape. We will kiss and talk and drink a little bit before taking it upstairs for the hot and heavy. Sometimes, it happens there on the floor. He's so big, muscular but on the meatier side. Just...a large dumb mutt intertwined with me, his small dumb cat. I see him, see his eyes, his large ears and...I'm having a hard time now. I pop my eyes open worried for both Sky and my embarrassingly tightening pants.

I feel aroused but unwell...like crawling stomach unwell. My heart flutters a little.

He's absent so often, left that scene in my head so very long ago, I feel I'm living in a house that's rented to the hunky husky-akita mix and not sharing one with my soon to be life partner.

And I don't even live there much myself.

He's just such a knucklehead. He knows my dislike of his frequent absences and he tries to make things happen between us. However, he also tends to do the thinking with his penis and I don't know if he really wants to settle down, or if this proposal was just his way to have a permanent lay.

...

And now I'm disgusted at myself for thinking that at all. If anything I'm as bad as him. Dammit, if I had soap for my mind, I would wash it out.

He loves me. I have to learn to accept that he will not always be home, it's true because I'm not always home but dammit, why can't I shake these horrid feelings? He likes to travel as do I, and he proposed to me, which should suggest we are thinking the same thing. I'm just not sure how to ask him without making it seem as accusatory and repulsive as that previous statement. It's the fact of how our relationship started that makes me wonder. It was physical, always from the start and maybe I hold doubts in my mind but...he's proven me wrong on many different occasions. Proven he loves me as much if not more than our physical sides. Dammit, I promised myself not to think this way but I keep catching myself wishing I thought this whole "accepting the proposal thing" more and more. I feel like I rushed, like my body rushed but I think my heart did too which is why I'm so confused as to where these negative thoughts keep bubbling up from.

I close my eyes again.

I'm leaning casually against the far wall of the long hallway that's connecting baggage claims and the bus terminal. I'm horny, I'm pent up and excited, but I still cannot shake that uneasy feeling.

We had a video chat before he left from China but the reception was shit and we had no image, just voice. It was still lovely but I'm just looking forward to holding him face to face. The talking we initiate on the phone or texting is just that, talk. It's just something to bridge the distance that is trying to grow between our worlds. What I fear is that the gap is growing exponentially, since all our conversations for the past few weeks have been our voices only. We just can't connect as intimately as in person and it's making me worried for us. My anchor, our anchor, has always been with each other face-to-face, nose-to-nose, and body-to-body. That's just how we function as a couple best. As much as we talk while he is away, it doesn't change that once we hang up, disconnect, we go our own separate ways in the world and I feel like a stranger. I fear that loose bond, that overbearing physical connection.

And the fear of being engage to a stranger is worse. It's pulling me apart inside.

My heart rate picks up and I start taking slow, deep breaths. No need to psyche myself out and induce a panic attack. My ears give a quick flick.

Paw fall to my left. More people are making their way down the corridor and I perk my ears tall as they go ready to find Sky. I scan the crowd and don't notice a stocky husky. The phone comes out next but he doesn't answer, probably because it's too noisy or not on. I check the docking number again just to make sure I'm at the correct terminal.

My heart is racing now, all those negative thoughts coupling on the ensuing stress is starting to make me panic. I keep scanning the crowd, looking for his distinct curly tail, his black, white and amber fur pattern. I look for peridot eyes but there are so many green jackets and shirts I can't focus. Sweat is running down my face and I wipe it furiously with the back of my paw. To other's, he might not stand out, to me, I can catch him in a crowd as dense as this one not a problem.

Except I'm not, I'm not finding him and all I have to go by is: stocky husky with peridot green eyes. I have nothing specific, just the eyes, just his fucking eyes.

I'm ready to tear my t-shirt from my body it's so hot.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh. God.

I grab a friendly-ish looking zebra by the forearm hoping my abrupt intrusion won't land me a broken nose. He gives me a stern 'what's the matter with you?' look so I half-ask, half-plead to him.

"Excuse me sir, s-sorry for-to stop you sir. Did you by chance just depart C-31?"

Turns out he's not friendly.

"No I didn't." He spits bluntly. "Now let go of me."

He jerks his arm out of my paw and marches off. He was in a stuffy charcoal business suit, and used a "charming" charismatic northeastern accent. Should have known better than to stop him. I look for another able looking person but every fur is swirling around me like a torrent of leaves. To fast to reach out and grab, to much shuffle to attract their attention. Ears, tail, whiskers, everything is down. The twitch in my stomach is gone, replaced by a thrumming tremble. I want to curl up on the floor and wait from the world to go away.

No.No.No.No.NO!

Shit, did I really make a huge mistake? Did it take me to be here now to realize that I might be marrying someone I'm not familiar with at all? Is all I know of us my sex with him, and his eyes!? Just his body type, fur color and beautiful, beautiful eyes, nothing about hair? Scent? Ok, well scent I know but it is voted out in this hellish place, still though.

I'm starting to spiral.

Should I just leave? Go to a hotel, back to my job and pretend this didn't happen? Give in to doubt and abandon him? It happened all so fast, those two years. And it all happened so slow, these past weeks. Does this mean that my relationship is anything but one, or was it that two years of my life was just happened upon by a horny, sexy, knuckle-headed, wise-ass, charming, lovable son-of-a-

"SAM!"

His voice rings out, so thick like honey and distinctive but it comes from behind me.

"SAM!"

I spin around, squinting in the mass of people trying desperately to find him, seeing only wave after wave of furs of all different walks of life shuffling down the terminal in a most rancorous way.

"SAM! HEY OVER HERE!"

My tiny, triangular satellites, flick in response to Skylar's booming voice and I glance to a column on the wall ten feet from me. I see a beefy husky, can't make out the eyes from here, but his gut its pressed firmly against his rather conforming burgundy and orange flannel showing him to be chubbier than my husky. Hair is different to, different style but same color. From this distance I have to squint so I can tell the fur pattern but it's hard with the shirt on. Poor guy must be baking alive right now. He's just too big to be Skylar. Plus I think his eyes look grey from here though I am several feet away. I bob my head up and down looking through the crowd trying to see where he went, thinking maybe I just missed him and he's going to come to me.

"HEY, CANDY CANE BUTT, I 'M RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!" The strange chubby husky barks with the honeyed drawl.

My hackles raise, people stare, some snicker, blood shoots up my face straight to the now very pink insides of my ears.

So many thoughts spiral through my head right now but embarrassment seems to out weight most of them and I feel myself grow as stiff as a board. I cannot believe he just called me that. In public for God's sake!

All that extra blood to my brain brings on the memory as if it were a stroke. The first night he called me that, I squirmed in a sort of mixture of giddiness and embarrassment. He had his paws on my ass and was probing my behind to loosen my "passage". When I lifted my tail as to let him finger my ass he started giggling like a child. That's when he told me that the fur on my tail looked like a cream-sickle colored candy cane when I erected it. I'm beyond mortified right now.

I shake out the thought as to avoid further embarrassing myself with an extra tightness in my acid washed jeans.

People are still staring but I'm so shell shocked that it doesn't phase me. By the time he gets to me, he has that dumb grin that speaks, "I know you love me when I call you that." It's plastered to his muzzle, which is thicker than I remember. However, I'm not even given time to process this before seething anger and terror of the agonizing minutes before overtakes my every orifice. I stare him down with eyes as wide as Carrie on her prom night, stiff upper lip and everything.

"The hell is wrong with you!?" My hackles are raised, my voice iced over, and the pressure in my head makes me feel like I'm going to have an aneurysm.

His eyes widen a bit.

"Hello to you to hun?"

"Why the hell would you call me that if front of all these people!?" I swing my arms wildly behind me almost clocking a giraffe in the neck. I feel the cold stare he gives to the back of my head but I ignore him and he seems to keep moving down the hall grumbling under my breath.

Skylar's relaxed demeanor seems to be fading as fast as his smile, his fur prickling a bit, however, his face still holds a veil of utter bewilderment.

"I-I'm sorry hun," His right ears flicks "I thought it would be cute."

"Cute!? Does this look like the time for CUTE!?" I flail my arms around me in a snow angel motion.

I know I'm creating a scene, loosing my cool, feeling even more stares this time but I'm so heated up I don't even have the energy to spare for feeling self-conscience. All I hear in my head over and over again is that I'm not ready for this, this marriage, this sham relationship. There IS no love here, just sex. It's always physical, always was and will be.

His attempts at remaining stoic seem to be reaching their limit and I can tell by his tone he is starting to enter condescending attitude territory. Anger mixed with condemning.

Bad cocktail.

"Well I thought so." He puts edge on the words just because he knows how to push my buttons, "When do you think this 'cute' time is anyway? Is it when you're not screaming for good reason? I can see it being then." He glares at me. "'Time is this anyway?" His words are biting and his voice is snarky and I let it get under my skin.

"I don't know, but it's definitely not time to make goddamn catcalls to me that's for fucking sure!"

He seems genuinely unnerved by my use of profanity and hostility towards him and if I wasn't so vehement right now I would be appalled at myself.

He stiffens a bit making his imposing form slightly less so. His arms cross over each other and he regains that figure.

"The hell is your problem cat." He drops my name and spits my species like chew, and that stings a bit. "I was only tryin' to get your attention. You were looking right friggin at me and you had this dumbfounded expression on your face. I thought you just lost your eagle eye touch." He nonchalantly shrugs. He knows how I pride myself in finding him, but little does he know how much that hurts right now, more than normal.

It's a "struck a nerve" kind of hurt.

"I did NOT lose my touch ok, you have some NERVE to call me that here!" It slips out without me giving it any thought.

"I have some nerve? I'm not the one here making a fool of themself in the middle of an airport. I'm not the one who explodes over something that no one else would care about even to the slightest. It's silly and immature!" he gives his jaw a scratch. "How can you just blow up over this? I flew several thousand miles, try to say 'hi' and all you did was explode on me." He straightens his shoulders. "You know what, is this really what I flew here for? We are getting married soon, petty shit like a little PDA shouldn't matter at this point." He throws his paws in the air. "If I really had half a mind, I should just get back on the plane and go back to Louisiana if this is what I should expect out of a simple remark about a barely intimate matter." He lies about intimacy there for effect and it does damage, I'm too stunned to talk. "What is this anyway, I know you and this isn't you?"

Now I'm feeling like I'm going to faint any moment.

"I-I'm not..." I don't even know what I was going to say, just anything, anything to make me feel strong would help. Too bad I feel about as strong as damp bark right now and my thoughts are white paper with a broken pen.

"You need to calm the-hell, down." His sternness makes me cringe. "Stop yelling at me and talk to me, I don't want to fight." He voice grows softer now, almost hard to hear in the background murmur. He points to the gold band on his finger, "This means you can talk to me about anything ever Sam. Anything. I don't know what's up, but I want too." There is a pause, which I think he's waiting for me to say something but I can't compose thoughts into words. I'm staring into my own head unable to formulate a single thought other than panicked gibberish.

When he sighs, my heart leaves with his breath. "Then if ya' can't speak, at least let me know if I'm wasting my damn time." He sounds so dejected that I cannot control the rate at which my body is shaking.

"I don't want to leave you so please, If I'm wrong get your ass over here and give me a friggin' hug, a proper hello, and lets go home to OUR house."

His words bite, deep, deeper than he meant them to. He's composed, angry but composed scolding me, like a kitten, a crazy little kitten. I can feel my vision blur, heat rushing to the tops of my cheeks.

Fuck.

...

He might leave me.

...

...

Before I can't even process my thoughts, the dams break loose. Tears rip down my cheeks and I bury my head in my paws. I stand and shake and weep. Within moments I feel a large, warm, slightly smelly dog arm wrap around my shoulder and begin walking me blindly.

"Hey, hey, hey, now, it's alright. It's alright." The soft voice is back, the one that melts my heart within a moment's notice and that only makes me weep harder. He pulls us out of dodge holding me close to his side.

As we pass through the dispersing crowd, which is larger than I thought, I hear something along the lines of, "Damn, someone didn't take their meds today." Along with some stuff about me being a crazy fucking cat.

Speciesist remarks, how sadly trite in this day and age.

Normally I would have gone out there and slugged that guy square in the nose but I'm too emotional to even make my tail bat more than an inch. Besides, if I did go off on him, raged again and what not, I would just end up in jail and that's not how I would want to spend my limited time here.

"That dog has patients man," also flutters by my ear to which I can whole-heartedly agree with. He really, really does. I smell two more furs walk past us as we enter what smells of piss and "other" unique smells, the bathroom most likely. We stop and I draw enough strength to lift my head and open my eyes. My body is still racked with sobs.

A lizard, iguana I think, gives us an odd look as he readies himself to take a leak.

"Leave. Please." My husky half barks, a move that makes him seem more domineering.

The lizard twists his head back and gives us a rather unpleasant scowl.

"Piss off man, I'ma kinda busy here." His drawl is very southern, more than Skylar's.

He's about to turn around and piss when Skylar raises his voice again; more commanding and thunderously loud this time makes me. It makes jump in his grip.

"HEY." He chest reverbs like a tuque drum. "I said leave, or I'll make sure your pissing blood into that urinal."

The Iguana stops, turns around zipping up his fly and glares with curling, clawed fists. I'm almost positive a fight is about to start over a damn bathroom, or me and I'm petrified; my tears are all dry, apprehension shakes at my fingertips.

Skylar stands up straight, chest out, eyes the most serious I've ever seen. His temperament has always been pretty docile but right now, after all that drama outside I can see the agitation buzzing in his features. Given the circumstance and remark, I'd say him not throwing the lizard through the wall right off the bat is a pretty good start. The iguana is shorter than Skylar, and skinner too, though I'm positive Skylar put on a few pounds as of last time I saw him. It's hard to tell when I spent the last few minutes under his sweaty arm with my eyes closed. From behind though, he fills out that shirt to the last thread.

They are glaring each other down.

If Skylar started a brawl right here I'm positive it wouldn't last very long. Pretty sure he told me he wrestled in college and he sure has the body to back up that assertion. But this is an airport bathroom, not a bar, wouldn't be long till he was cuffed and I'm tempted to get between them and stop it before it starts. I don't want a fight, I just want to leave, forget I ever had a melt down. If I did that though, get between them, I might get hit and then certainly a more bloody fight would ensue. So I stay behind Skylar and hold my breath hoping the iguana deduces that this fight would result in more trouble than it's worth.

The glares slice out all sound dribbling under the door into the room. Tension is tighter than my white-knuckled grip on my car keys in my pocket. They hold eye contact for about fifteen seconds, eyes cold and unwavering. I'm about to pull Skylar out of there when the iguana drops his gaze.

It seems after a few seconds the Iguana realizes that he would most likely end up hurt or in jail, if not losing this stupid fight, so he backs down. He sneers, and spits on the floor in front of us. Skylar relaxes, his grin of pride coming back to his face. The iguana calls us "faggots" as he passes behind Skylar and promptly leaves.

I'm still frozen in place even as the door swings shut. A large snap pulls me out of my head and makes me jump again as Skylar breaks off a piece of the plastic paper towel dispenser and wedges it under the door as a make shift door stop.

I hope no one tries the door or we might have the HLS down here before Skylar does...whatever he brought me here for.

I don't know why we are even here and I'm worried.

He approaches slowly, and I'm still shaking. His fur is still puffed up around his nape, but the coldness is receding from his eyes like glacial melt. A foot apart, he places both massive paws on my sweaty shoulders.

"We're not going home until you tell me what's up."

We lock eyes; those shimmering peridot green gems are outlined with the most eye-popping lashes. They make him look like he's wearing makeup but he is just one of those lucky men who have lush lashes. Coupled with the color, his eyes always keep me in a trance. He's reading me as I study him. Sometimes, when we're close like this, I believe he pulls my emotions out just with his stare. That muzzle is just so pointedly hypnotic that it's hard to hide anything not tethered down by a bastioned weight. I cannot suppress the growing pressure in my stomach; of bile making it's acidic rise up my throat. His stare only reminds me just how much I missed him, missed this closeness. All at the same time, reminds me how foreign he was, is, to me not minutes ago. I 'm glad we are in a bathroom out of all places, because I just might puke.

His rough fingers brush down the side of my cheek and stop under my chin. The way he tilts my head makes me feel like he will kiss me but the expression on his face changes and when he leans in he stops inches from me.

The discernible concern and tinge of sadness in his muzzle make me feel lower than dirt.

It makes me wish I were dirt.

Only takes him to whisper a honey soaked "what's wrong?" to make a new batch of tears burst free from my body. I cry and relent and get loud and sob brokenly and then relent some more. He pulls me into him, engulfing me in his embrace.

My mind races and attempts to force all my thoughts out of my mouth at once. I end up just sobbing gibberish and chocking on air, and what isn't nonsense is "I'm so sorry" which does little more than tear stain his shirt. We cling together for a while as I let it all out. The whole time he strokes my head furs cooing soothing words until I feel composed enough to really speak.

"I didn't recognize you Skylar, I-I didn't. I thought it was you but then I had doubts and then I was having doubts about us and I didn't remember your face-" I'm still weeping but I'm forcing long breaths. My throat snags causing me to huff out an extremely ragged breath.

I finally manage to say though a multitude of sobs and stifled hiccups. "-I thought for a moment I was losing you Skylar."

His eyes are soft and understanding but he is apparently confused and I don't blame him, I'm not making much sense.

"Lose me? Doubts? What do you mean Sam?"

What do I mean? Here he is, same old Skylar though, maybe not the same. He's kind of heavier, hair is styled differently and it takes time to process but...

But it's still him.

I talked to him on video only days ago though, how could so much have changed.

He gives me time to mull it over. After some deep, tear soaked thoughts I think I have a clear answer.

"I just saw you standing there, and it wasn't the same Skylar that kissed me goodbye almost a month ago. That Skylar looked different; when I talked to that Skylar on the phone he looked different in my head, his voice different because of the phone. That time when you got hurt when I was away I didn't process how you would look till I got back. The contact we just had felt so different than from what I remember. Besides your scent, every time we see each other, something's changed that I never expected and the constant changes are just...just hard. It's hard to keep a changing image of you in my head. I panicked when I saw you because I didn't even know what to look for anymore."

He frowns for a moment in what I'm sure is his way of trying to process my words.

"Sam, I am still me one-hundred percent me." He pokes my chest. "You don't have to expect anything, just know I'm going to be there."

He is still wrapped around me.

"I'm just worried about how upset you were back there. You can't tell me this was all because I look a bit different."

I'm released from his hug and stand within an arms reach. He is taller than me by a couple inches and so he looks down at me with a angled, swollen neck, a cautious look in his eyes. A bit different is a stretch but that's not the point.

"It's more than that...I-" I swallow really hard, my nose running down the back of my throat from all of my crying.

"I thought of us having sex back when I was standing in the terminal, thought of you and I realized that sex and you are synonymous."

He gives me a skeptical look. "I would hope that's the case Sam."

I shake my head, still struggling with correct wording.

"No! It's not like that. When I think of you I think of sex and then it scares me to hell that it's all I think about when I think of you. We haven't been able to do things, normal everyday things that couples do for months. I feel like we are only half there. I just...I don't want marry to a stranger." The words come out but there muttered, almost whispered.

I go quite and so does he. I let my words really sink in. My voice is hoarse and my throat is raw from crying but I'll manage.

"A stranger? Me?" He's pretty wide-eyed. "Sam...how long have we've known each other now? A few years? How could I be a stranger to you after all this time?" He carries a poignant expression and sounds genuinely hurt. I need to clarify before he takes my words out of context. This was what I wanted to avoid in the first place, hurting him.

"No no, your not..." I sigh defeated. "Sky, we've been seeing each other less and less over the past few months. We've been engage for less than six, and today," I swallow hard. " Today I panicked, because we haven't been in contact for so long. I haven't seen your face in weeks! We haven't been something in weeks!"

I'm being a bit hash and he just curls his lower lip. I keep going.

"We don't talk as much anymore nor meet up as much and when we do it's only sex and we are getting married! Married Skylar, you said it yourself! I want to see you more, hold you more, go out with you more, kiss you much more, and have casual conversation with you more, I-" Massive breath here. "-I want to be in your life more Skylar. I want to be your husband whom you see more than every couple of weeks for a week, and whom your able to live a life with."

"Skylar you know I want that as much as you but-"

"I know the issue is something we just have to live with but seeing you today, not recognizing you," He raises an eyebrow at that. "I just don't want us to start seeing each other as strangers like I did earlier. When I saw you, I thought you were just some random husky standing in the corner and..." I swallow hard. "That...that was one of the scariest moments of my life Skylar. I really thought that this is how it will be when we're married; I might just lose you slowly to distance, to ever changing separate lives. I can't-I can't have this life style...drive us miles apart. I won't let it." My voice dies out.

Those words felt right, sat right on my tongue. I felt the meaning finally. His face is sad, worried even, I've never seen that look before. It's both serious and soft and yet somewhat...pleading. He places his palms on my shoulders again.

His voice is low and slow and I can here the deep rumble in his chest from this distance.

"Sam, I promise you no matter what, even if we physically change, even if we're apart from each other for long stretches of time, even if we haven't seen a movie or played games together in months, we will always find a way back to each other and love each other no matter how long the duration. I will find you, always. I'm getting married to the world's most affectionate cat, who deals with my bullshit on a regular basis and always, always finds ways to be overwhelmingly loving. I will always find you one way or another even if our bodies, our lives are completely different by our next meeting. I found you today even amongst the chaos by simply saying...you have the worlds sweetest ass."

He smirks at that like the horny, dense, ball of joy he is and I frown, but it's a play frown overtop bloodshot eyes. He pulls me back into a huge hug.

"Hell, I only got my hair cut yesterday because it was getting long and I thought I'd surprise you with somethin' new. And I'm sorry about embarrassing ya I just thought-"

I look up in his grip. His hair is longer on top now and trimmed up on the sides and back. It actually suits him very well and I tell him that in the form of a nice, long kiss on the lips.

It feels good, really good to do that again, to feel such exhilarating warmth be passed between two bodies. I missed this, missed his soft lips and flexible tongue. In this moment I think of nothing but my life with him, how it can play out and I push dark thoughts out of my head, as we remain locked together. When there is a will, there is a way and lord knows we have will.

"No." I break the kiss for some quick words. "You didn't think, you knew, knew I'd know those words anywhere. I'm sorry I'm such an idiot. This has just been a lonely, self-reflective kind of month. " I rest my head on his chest.

My mind is still worried, it always will be, but I don't think I need to feel so insecure anymore. I recognized him, as stressful and embarrassing as that was.

The catcall really was all it took, if very much to my quiet distain.

He is still very much Skylar one hundred percent in character, still my fiancé, still the one I met two years ago in mind at least. I'm still uncomfortable with how often he comes and goes from my life but I think I can accept that, even if we're not up to date on each other's appearances, even if we haven't done more than sex as of recent. We will just have to keep trying, bog down and fight through the tough times to pave wonderfully new ones. We will always be Samuel and Skylar at heart and just like a relationship; we have to work hard to maintain it that way. As I whisper that to him I feel his smile in my bones. This is familiar, what I miss so much, his love encompassing me like a warm fire in winter winds.

We relinquish our hug and stare again, this time with huge grins plastered on our muzzles. We decide that leaving the bathroom is in our best interests before security thinks we're up to no good. As we walk out I ask if I can fly out and see him more and he agrees to reciprocate the idea. We'll share costs of flight and board, we always do and hopefully I'll feel like I'm not constantly wrestling control of our relationship away from the clutches of our erratic careers.

Towards the check-in area of the terminal we become silent and for once I want to keep him talking to me, I want to not think about what we just went through. This time around I made arrangements so that we have just under a month to be together but I want to keep my mind off of the possible distance looming in the too short future. For lack of anything better to say and to probe at a genuinely perplexing observation, I give him a quick peck on the lips followed by a sharp poke in his swollen gut prompting him to stop walking.

"What happened here anyway Mr.?" My grin should be able to make the Cheshire Cat jealous. I don't want to put him at unease after the moment we just had so I force the width of my lips to nonsensical state.

The tips of his tall ears grow pink fairly quick but he understands my insincere manner of questioning.

"Well...I...um..." The back of his head gets a nervous scratch. "That was kind of your fault." His eyes go straight to the floor.

I do flick my stripy tail at that.

"Me? How did I create that?"

"The care packages." He throws out in an almost bashful, even defeated manner like he just got caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, which he might as well have been circumstances and all.

"Those? I had only sent a few of them."

He huffs out a chuckle.

"Only a few? Sam, I was gone twelve weeks and you sent me at least a years worth of food." He rolls his eyes.

"I did not!" I snap at him, feeling accused. I'm a little flustered that he thinks I gave him too much but then I worry a bit. Did I over do it with the food?

"Ok, it might not have been that much per say but, 90 percent of the packages were your cooking on ice, and the rest was snack foods or memento's."

I still feel obligated to justify my intentions.

"You were in China and Louisiana, I figured you'd get sick of the local food after a while." I'm pouting. "Plus I know you dislike Cajun. I thought you'd appreciate something you like every once in a while."

He snorts and rolls his eyes again.

"I appreciate the thought, really, and I love everything you cook but my God, I didn't realize you would send me an entire tray of stuff shells." He hold's his paws out about a foot across. His voice drops pitch and he puts heavy emphasis on 'entire tray'.

I'm still struggling to justify myself.

"B-but you love my stuffed shells..." I whine.

"I know! That's why I have this!" He grabs his enlarged gut and gives it a slight shake.

Perhaps an entire tray was a bit too much. I internally cringe a bit.

"They were delicious hun but-"

I cut him off before he makes a bigger fool of me.

"I just figured you could store it in the fridge and you'd have lunch and dinner options and finding breakfast would be your only problem. You didn't need to eat them all, I just thought I'd give you liberal choice." That was my last hand, all cards on the table, all in.

"Well. Yes, that's what I did at first." He looks away from me and I know that he's hiding something.

"At first?" I probe.

He's reluctant and acting like a cub being scolded by their mother but soon understands that he needs to explain the twentyish or so extra pounds on his frame somehow.

"Well...there were two things."

"Oh?"

He puts up a finger.

"One, I only had a mini fridge for the entire duration of my stay and those containers-"

"Didn't stack, yeah." I finish for him understanding to some degree my error.

Shit.

But he still could have just moved them around or transferred some of it right?

"Ok." He continues. "So when I first got all the stuff I had to eat some of it so I could move it to a smaller container I bought to fit in the fridge."

All right, at least we think alike.

"Ok so what's the problem?" I'm genuinely curious about where this was heading.

"Well I went out to the store and bought smaller containers and such but...well..."

His ears flop and I know this is going to be something I'm probably not going to like.

Or find incredibly dumb.

"Well?"

He sighs.

"On occasion at night I would get kind of hungry and pick at the containers and I did eat most of it for meals..."

"And?"

"And well, you know how us dogs are bad with the whole self control while eating thing?"

I run my paw down my face chuckling.

"You just...you would finish the whole thing in one go, wouldn't you?"

He nodded at me with a defeated smile. Utterly ridiculous.

Fun fact: Dogs and portion control do not mix.

"Heh, so yeah like I said, your fault." He fakes a cheesy smile as to not put me to edge. "You sent me a bunch of food you knew I couldn't resist and now here's the result." He gives his stomach another quick shake and follows suit with a large stretch show off his bulkier frame. He's laughing like a toddlers form of validation and I swear the densest part of his body is his brain not torso.

"You're seriously blaming me for your lack of self-control?" I'm shocked at him.

"No, I'm blaming you for giving me so much to indulge my lack of self-control with."

Clever.

He can't be seriously blaming me can he? I mean I know he's not serious, but did I go a bit overboard with the care packages? Did I possibly smoother him a bit too much in a desperate attempt to wrestle control of this situation? He catches me staring through him in thought, mistakes it, and immediately back pedals.

"Hey now, no need to get upset, I was just messing with you. Look, I even worked out a bit to kind of even out the problem...er...sort of." He flexes a meaty bicep. "I loved the packages and the thought behind them and of course your cooking is to die for as always." He smirks. "Even if it's a little rich." He adds "clearly" under his breath but I still hear him. I let that slide though and let him finish.

"I wasn't planning on keeping it either. Just need to hit the gym here, get myself back into shape...ish."

Yeah he never was really in superb shape, hunky, built large by default, but he never worked on it, not since college anyway. My doubtful look makes him feel more obligated.

"Really, I can get right back on that, get a membership for a nation wide gym and if you want I can let my hair grow back out and get it redone the way you-"

I interrupt with another kiss, not long but long enough to quiet him.

"No, leave it. Just leave the hair, leave the gut. If I'm going to accept things like this happening, it's best to start now right? Besides," I smirk. "I created it after all and...you wear it well."

We're both grinning like mad men and his grin is smug as hell but I know it holds little meaning. Not because he thinks he's won our little argument, no, he's just like that, confident in everything he does, just like with the iguana, just like with my oddly patterned tail. He leaks it and I lap it up.

"As long as we are living like this, I don't want you to change for me. I just want you as you are, so I can focus on us, as a couple." I give him a poke in his chest.

"That's all I need, you to be there for me."

His muzzle beams a bright, toothy, canine smile and he pulls me into another big hug. He really squeezes and I fear I'm going to be like this for hours so I break it up shortly.

"Alright, alright, lets go home already." I flash my own toothy grin at him and start walking with bags in paw. "I'll even make dinner."

All his features light up.

"Can you handle it though? Not gonna eat the whole thing on me at once?"

He gives a hearty chuckle.

"Nah. I don't think I'll be doing that. Not with you helping me anyway." I want to slug him as he chuckles at my frustration. Just because I said I didn't mind doesn't me I want him to make himself fat.

"Besides," he nudges my side and leans in for a whisper, "The Beignets probably helped."

I stop walking at the front entrance.

Beignet?

"Did you say Beignet? I didn't send any tarts?"

That goddamn smirk is still on his face and I don't like it.

"Well, I mean it's technically a type of fritter which is pastry but..." he stops himself when I give him the evil eye as to not test me. "I kind of bought some of those down south a few times for breakfast..." He pauses, likely on purpose for effect. "And possibly to munch on."

...

"Annnnnd I might have tried some of the stuffed buns in China too...a few times."

"I KNEW IT!" I put an almost clawed finger into his peck. My voice echoes across the airport lobby attracting yet more stares.

"Now, now, hun, lets not go through this again, we just resolved one dispute and accepted a great deal of uncontrollable things in the process." He has his paws facing out by his shoulders like I have a gun to his chest. Though, my claw might as well be a gun in this instance.

"You lying bastard, I should make you run laps around the house non-stop; feeding me that spiel." I'm not shouting, but I say it loud enough that we still have our seemingly amused audience watching. I feel like that nagging housewife from any run-of-the-mill sitcom.

"Trying to throw all the blame on me because you felt the need to eat a deep fried, sugar coated pastry for breakfast most days you were gone?"

He looked ready to pull those big, triangular ears over his eyes. I could hear the whine form in his throat before his sentence.

"But-but they were sooooo good and they were really cheap at this one shop, and I was somewhere I've never been so I had to get them at least once I mean, a-and then once led to twice and then-."

I cut him off. "I SWEAR to God, sometimes I just wanna-"

"-I brought some back." He slurs back in a sing-songy way.

That stopped me good. I don't know how he does it but he can find the easiest ways to derail me. It is utterly infuriating. The anger dissipates and all I can focus on is that stupid fucking grin that makes me grin. I can't stay mad at him, not when he looks at me with bartering, peace-wishing eyes.

I raise a very off-brown eyebrow. "You did?" It's framed as a question but plays off more like a statement.

He nods and reaches into one of his bags and pulls out a large tan box tied with a small gold string.

"Got four of them right here, ready to be fried up. Just bought em' today." He gives the box a slight shake as if to tempt me like it's catnip. Jeeze that's a bad analogy, haven't used any in years. Shouldn't think of that, should think of said pastry delights and not comparable drugs.

Twenty minutes ago I probably would have said I could use some.

I bite my lower lip, as to give the notion of the tempting offer. I haven't had one of those in quite sometime, pasty, and this argument is pretty silly, if horribly not serious. I rub my chin fur and point at the box with a cautious look.

"Guarantee I get one of those?"

"Mhmm, absolutely, I got some plantains for them too." He tries to literally sweeten the deal. He still has that sly grin and I don't fully trust him.

"I better tubby, ten more of those," I poke his gut for the third time today, "and I might stop loving you."

His next expression makes ASPCA commercials for ferals look timid but there's a glint in that faux sadness in his eyes that lets me know that he knows there's nothing in the world that could make that happen.

"Get your stuff, let's go to the car." I grab the box of pastries out of his paws, turn around leaving him all the bags.

"Uhhhhhh? You're just leaving me with all the bags?" He's standing there slouching, with a few eyes still lingering us.

"I got the important package right here, and you've got yours," I circle my finger. "Right there." My finger points down but not quite towards the bags and I can tell he gets the joke.

"Har. Har."

I head toward the parking garage giving him a quick wink as I go.

"I can make these for desert tonight amongst other things."

It's my turn to have a sly smile and that gets the reaction I was looking for out of him.

Getting physical...it's an activity I guess.