FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Yawn (HH)

*

Hello, sweetpeas, and welcome to the Hockey Hunk! I hope you enjoyed the return of this series, and I look forward to your feedback, as always, I wouldn't be here putting these out without you guys :) I was so happy to see so many of you tune in for the first return chapter, and I do hope you'll keep coming back! I cannot yet guarantee an uninterrupted posting schedule, but for now I do plan to try and get one out every Monday, to keep the story running. So...yeah.

Thank you!

*

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn."

Oh, God. I almost dislocated my jaws with that. It appeared that I still hadn't had enough coffee to start my cognitive functions for the day, and all I was good so far was yawning my tonsils out. Maybe this was some sort of an addiction...

Blargh.

"Mister Gliese?"

Oh what now?

Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease.

It was the tiger, of course, in his all too crisp red shirt and perfectly pressed pants and a polite smile and curious eyes through his glasses.

"Uhm, Rory..." he corrected himself when he saw my ears flip-flop curiously upon him addressing me so formally. It happened automatically, too, I didn't mean to.

"Yes?" I asked from Paul.

"I have arranged the magazines, put up today's newspapers, swept the floor, checked the shelves and put up the special offer announcement on the display," the tiger detailed to me exhaustively. "Is there anything else I should do before we open?"

Well, damn. I wondered if this was just his natural behavior, or if he was still doing his best to impress us in the hopes of securing his employment. He didn't even have to sweep the floor...and I wasn't even sure where the floor brush was kept!

Either way, having such an effective helper meant that I really didn't have to do much besides concentrate on being the boss, which I was today since Marge wasn't in until the afternoon so that I could practice being the boss...yes...yes, I was almost guilty about not pitching in more.

Or maybe not.

"Well...you could always have a coffee," I smiled to the younger man. "Since you already did everything else as far as I can think of."

"That sounds fine," he nodded.

"Water should be almost hot in the kettle still," I told him.

"Thank you."

He moved over to the kitchen corner with the lazy easiness of a boy and added to that what was natural feline grace. I might've been somewhat biased where it came to feline appreciation, of course, but what's not to like about a tall, young, strapping...and these black pants we were supposed to wear could be quite flattering on the rear end, too, when viewed from the right...angle. Not that I paid too much attention when he stood there by the kitchen sink and snapped on the electric kettle, me watching how his tail swung about in the relaxed fashion long feline tails did. If he'd bent over even a little, the fabric would have pulled taut and...

Ahem.

Maybe I'd been spending too much time with Victor, who always offered plentiful chances of catching both clothed and unclothed glimpses at a rather toned and round Doberman derriere, and I suppose that kind of a thing could spoil even the most innocent of minds.

I wasn't kidding anyone.

Unknowing of my butt spying for now, Paul took out a cup and put it down to the table to wait for the water to boil. He didn't seem to intend to return to the couch while waiting for it, but instead stood there, somewhat relaxed, though not leaning on the table as I'd imagine someone like Mason to do. Perhaps it was an unfavorable comparison. The two appeared to have very different personalities, not to mention their physical opposition. Besides, Mason was one for liberal arts, music, song, making out with Norwegian lynxes...what was Paul? Pre-med, bespectacled, mild-mannered...almost color-free, really, at least for now when I thought he was in his best behavior. Hopefully whatever was lurking under those stripes wasn't anything problematic. This might've been a bookshop, but even we would fall into total chaos if the staff suddenly started to slack off.

Like just sitting around on my butt drinking coffee and making Paul do all the work...but I was the boss!

It took perhaps thirty seconds for the water to boil and the kettle to pop. Paul spooned instant coffee into the cup and then poured the water in it, and began to stir enthusiastically.

"It's nice," he said.

I picked my own cup from the low table amid the catalogs and free samples we were bombarded with, and lifted my drink to my thirsty muzzle. My nostrils flared at the scent rising from the still quite hot beverage, and I felt an urge to purr.

"It sure is," I smiled over the rim of my cup.

"Do you think it will be a busy day?" he asked.

I shrugged.

"I doubt it'll be anything unusual," I replied. "The rain may both keep them away and to make them pop in for cover, so that's something to keep in mind. If you're expecting a rush hour...we don't get those so often."

"I see," he nodded towards me, while he still kept on stirring with one paw.

"Did your old workplace have rush hours?" I mused.

"Hmm..." he appeared thoughtful, "not as such, but rush periods, certainly. Whenever someone was having a birthday or a bar mitzva, for example, of course, then there would be more customers, wanting to buy gifts to commemorate it and the like. That sort of a thing."

I nodded.

"Makes sense," I said. "And I suppose your shop being the place to go in the area for that sort of needs...if someone had a birthday, then everyone would come for you?"

"It's a small community," he mused. "It was a specialized service. We did get other customers too, of course, but that was a big part of it, the home community, so to speak."

"Like a village within a city," I suggested.

He nodded.

"That's a good way to put it, Rory," he smiled. "Everyone knows everyone."

I chuckled.

"Talk about it," I chuffed. "My hometown has less than 10,000 people living there, so the same rings true there as well."

"In all the good and the bad..." he nodded.

He seemed happy with his stirring, since now he picked the cup and wandered back over to the seating group to take the disreputable armchair opposite to the couch. I gave him another smile.

"It's very nice to relax for a little before the day starts properly," I said.

"Will you be working all day?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Full day, since Marge isn't in yet, and...yeah...Mason will come in after you, I suppose?"

"He's working the afternoon, yes," he said, "I will have to go to the university after noon. I've got lecturers until seven then."

"Wow," I exclaimed.

"I also had to get up earlier than usual, too, because there's something wrong with my father's car and I had to drive him to work before I came here," he detailed.

I definitely didn't miss that kind of student days. We must've been going on pure caffeine and youthful energy and enthusiasm. Hard to believe it was only a few years ago that I too would've been doing such round the clock days with work, school, and even social events on top of all that. Then I had to start nursing Peter, too, whenever I could and he needed me, and that swallowed even more time.

Yeah. Plenty of stuff not to miss about that time. But Paul didn't seem to find it a stretch, though.

"Damn," I commented on the car business, though, "does he know what's wrong?"

He seemed nonchalant.

"Not really," Paul said, "it didn't start, so I had to take him to work. He didn't want to take a taxi, since he had his personal chauffeur to rely on."

I chuckled.

"Well, that sucks."

"Of course my father likes all sorts of gadgets but cars isn't one of the areas he's interested in," Paul mused, "so he didn't as much as look under the bonnet."

"I can understand that," I said, "my father can just about change the oil and maybe the air filter but I'm not sure he's ever done any in-depth engine repairs or the like. He leaves that to my mother."

Paul gave me a curious look.

"Is she that handy?"

"Are you surprised?" I smirked.

"My mother can't even drive stick shift," Paul said.

Heheh.

"Well I certainly wish I'd inherited my mother's mechanical skills," I said. "I suppose first I'd need a car to practice with, though. Can't really learn that from a book."

"Probably not," Paul said.

"Well I do hope that you'll have the time to do everything you need to do," I commented, "work, studies..."

"It's definitely a lot of work," he said. "But I'm doing okay. It's just a matter of putting your mind into it."

Oh God, good work ethic, too? What would there be next, an enormous -

"Co - "I spluttered. "quite, that's the...that's the spirit."

I buried my muzzle onto my cup and hoped that nothing untoward had escaped. He didn't look like it, really, thankfully. Would've been too early in the morning to end up being accused of sexual harassment of the lavender kind.

"You have a degree, don't you, Rory?"

Blargh.

I gave him a a quick smile.

"Yes, even if you probably don't believe it," I tried to brush it off, to have a proper distraction from my earlier near-slip-up.

"What is it on?" he asked.

"Language and literature," I said. "English, and...stuff."

"Sounds fun", Paul said. "Makes sense that you work here, then!"

I gave him a little chuckle.

"Well it's where books live," I said, "what's a better place?"

That was like saying that God lived in churches.

He nodded.

"I am simply wondering on the employment prospects," he said. "I admit I am not sure what kind of venues there are for people with a degree like yours."

The soup kitchen? I thought.

"Well," I waved a paw, "there's a few, of course. There's always teaching, on any level, really...EFL teaching...that's English as Foreign Language...technical communications, copywriting, advertising...all sorts of stuff."

Anything but this, basically.

"That's a lot of options," said the tiger.

I chuckled.

"I guess you don't have to guess what you will be doing after you finish college," I said. "Doctor Lyndon?"

He shrugged in the way that teenagers universally seem to do. It reminded me a lot of Mason, too, and my own brother as well, of course.

"I don't know, really," he said. "It's a long way to go before that, and even then I'd have to pick a specialty and all that..."

"Lots of small goals to set, right?" I suggested.

"Something like that," he said. "Without forgetting the object in the end."

Maybe he should've forgotten about slaving in a bookstore, he could have just become a motivational speaker or something, I thought. Maybe he could skip the medical school and just print a few diplomas off the Internet and go on like that. Would probably just as well.

"i guess we could all learn something from that," I said.

Now he sipped his coffee.

"Got my family telling me to do it, of course," Paul said. "Mom, dad, stepdad...grandparents...uncles...cousins...great-uncles..."

"No siblings?" I asked.

He glanced down to the floor by his footpaws, quickly, upon my question. I wondered briefly whether I had nudged into some sort of an unfortunate personal territory.

"Only child," he said, eventually. "My parents divorced when I was quite little."

I didn't have any first paw experience on that, and hence I could only nod.

"I've got a brother," I said. "He's a lot younger though."

Now it was Paul's turn to give a politely interested nod. That didn't surprise me. Hearing about my baby brother was likely not high on his list of priorities.

"Do you have a family of your own, Rory?"

Damn. He took the express route right to the heart of things, didn't he?

At first I was about to yelp an instant 'no!' but then my brain conjured up the image of a very much disapproving brother(in-law) Dobie COBB staring at me with his arms folded and tapping one foot on the floor, and that kind of persisted, much like Cobb in general, I thought.

"Not...yet," I stated, hence, without too much hesitation, I hoped, to catch any suspicion.

Now I could imagine Victor's disapproving glare at me for once again hiding my...family situation like that. But Paul was a new fur in my life, and...telling one would mean that in such a small environment as the store, everyone would really have to know.

So no, not yet.

At least Paul decided to revert back to being a teenager at that point, much to my relief, and did not make further questions.

"Cool," he declared sagely on my life, and took another sip of his coffee.

I smiled a little.

"Yep," I added.

*

Our lovely coffee moment had to come to an end, like they always do, and it was time to head upstairs. I gave the room a quick once-over to make sure that everything was exactly as presentable as Paul had assured to me, before I unlocked the doors and made my way over to the counter. Paul had assumed a position behind cash register number one and I kind of itched to lurk over to my usual place on his side, but this time around, I had to be the boss lion, and command the floor with my reassuring, professional presence, for the staff and the clientele in equal amounts.

Of course Paul looked perfectly at ease, relaxed, no worry in the world except maybe an upcoming examination and how to get a drink while he was still not of age to do so. If my experience was to believe, it wouldn't be difficult, in this town, or elsewhere, probably.

Just best not to tell my mother, the sheriff...

It took a couple of minutes before the saloon doors swung open, so to say, and the first customer popped in. A bear in somewhat damp business clothing, trench coat, suit, tie, not really a familiar face, but we got a bunch who dropped in before work in some of the downtown businesses because we were on the way, and our newspapers obviously didn't cost any more than at any vendor. It wasn't great business, but it was still something that attracted customers. Sometimes they'd buy other stuff too.

"Good morning!" I assumed my happyhappy demeanor with demented ease.

The bear barely acknowledged me, but that hardly mattered. He stomped to the newspaper stands, picked his papers and went over to the checkout to buy them without further ado. I observed Paul at it, attentive, perky ears, very polite despite the bear's curt demeanor. He disappeared soon in a whiff of printing ink and with a bang of the door.

"Well, I guess he won't be browsing our amazing autumn offers," I mused to Paul across the still deserted shop floor.

He chuffed in the way only cats do, really, and smiled briefly.

"And we just put "Beat Stress with Yoga" on special offer," he said.

I chuckled.

"Maybe I should take a look as well," I mused.

Or...maybe there would be a book there labeled '101 New Gay Sex Positions To Try', thought my corrupted mind. I suppose I could always try the Jockstrap Jamboree, the Dirty Coach or Playing the Rusty Trombone...most likely with the help of a surprisingly flexible Dobie perhaps.

I probably shouldn't have been thinking about such things. These pants could be very revealing on the front as well. Maybe I should blame Victor for making working more difficult for me.

Heh.

*

Thank you for reading my story! I hope you had a good time, and I look forward to your feedback! Remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy a swell!

See you with the next chapter next Monday!

Ta ta!