A Good Itch
"I think I have dry skin ... beneath my fur," Herkimer explained. Whiskers twitching. He frowned a bit. "It's really raw."
"Then don't scratch."
"I can't help it! It itches ... "
"Itches?" Welly asked, squinting.
"Yeah," the mouse said. Going quiet. "Why?" he asked.
"Mm. Nothing. Just ... you were on the away team yesterday. Down to that chipmunk colony."
"Yeah. Chipmunks are ... they're different. Almost mouse-like, but squirrel-like, too. Like a bridge between the two ... "
"We have a few chipmunks aboard."
"I know, but ... "
"I heard Opal went with you."
"What?" Herkimer blinked.
Welly, retrieving a scanner (and subtly trying to keep a distance between himself and Herkimer). "Well ... you ALL, I guess. Not just you. Didn't mean," he said coyly, a smile melting onto his muzzle, "to imply anything."
"Look, yes, Opal went down in the pod with us. But Aria and Audrey came, too, and ... so did Ensign Tess."
"Good. Good," said Welly. Grinning. Scanning.
"Look, there's ... we haven't done anything."
"But you have a connection? You gonna deny that?"
The grey-furred mouse sighed, looking away. Shrugging a bit. "No," he muttered.
"So, then ... make your moves, huh? Snag her."
"SNAG her?"
"Woo her, Herkimer. Come on. She wants you ... and unless you're content with yiffing holographic tail twice a day ... " A small chuckle. "You like those programs I gave you?"
An embarrassed ear-flush. "I ... I like Tree Party Five," the mouse admitted, "the most."
"Yeah? Heh ... yeah, the squirrel tree-house thing. Mm ... good one."
"But ... but I mean, I KNOW that. I know that ... Opal likes me. I just don't know what to do. I'm afraid."
"Afraid?" A blink. At both the mouse AND his scanner. The skunk looking from one to the other. And taking another step backward.
"Yeah, well ... you know, after what happened between me and Advent. I guess I'm just afraid ... "
" ...of a Jersey cow? She's the DEFINITION of docile, Herkimer. Seriously. Get her into a room somewhere and ... be furs," the skunk whispered.
"I won't do it unless we're mates," the mouse said seriously. "You KNOW that. And we're not mated. It has to be for love. And ... and real love, not ... delusional love," he said, of his "love" with Advent. "I just don't know how to be sure when love's REAL anymore."
"Then ask her to dinner. Get to know her. Find out. And ... ask her to mate you."
"I thought about that," Herkimer whispered, taking a short, quiet breath. "Just ... what if she says no?"
"I hardly think she will," the skunk confided. "Believe me."
"Why?" The grey-furred mouse blinked. "You talked to her?"
"I'm the ship's Doctor, Herkimer. I talk to every-fur. She was in here for a bit of mastitis ... "
"Mastitis?" A blink.
"A bit of a ... well, a breast infection. Very common in cows."
"She gonna be okay?" the mouse asked, alarmed. Eyes widening.
"I cured her easily," the skunk said calmly. "As I said ... cows have ... well, uh, LARGE ... breasts," the skunk whispered. "They also lactate even when NOT with child, so ... "
"So, what?" The mouse blinked, sitting up straight. Blinking.
"So," the skunk whispered, "their ... breasts," he whispered, "require constant check-ups. I check her every two weeks."
"You've SEEN them, then?"
Welly sighed, looking upward, and then back at the mouse. "Yes."
Herkimer nodded quietly, eyes a bit distant.
"Jealous?" A grin.
"What? NO," the mouse insisted. Looking back at the skunk. A twitching fidget. "Yes," he whispered.
"Herkimer, honestly ... ask her. She'll mate with you. I KNOW she likes you."
"She said that?" A look from the mouse.
"Doctor/patient," the skunk whispered teasingly, "confidentiality."
"What?" the mouse asked. "Welly!"
"Herkimer," the skunk stressed. "TRUST me. Ask her. You WON'T regret it."
The mouse sighed.
"Are you reading me?" Welly nudged.
"Yes," Herkimer whispered, nodding. His heart pounding. "I just ... gotta get my courage up."
"Mm ... well, I would pat you on the shoulder," Welly whispered, "but, uh ... " His scanner beeped. And the skunk nodded. "I don't think your skin is itching cause it's dry. I think you picked up something down below ... the chipmunks lived in a woods, right?"
"Well, they all live near trees," the mouse answered simply. "Why?"
Welly bit his lip, taking yet ANOTHER step away from the mouse. "Uh ... heh, Herkimer."
"What?" Eyes widening. "What?"
"You got fleas, bud."
"Fleas?!"
"Calm down!" Welly replied.
"Fleas?!" The mouse slipped off the med bed.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa ... mouse. STOP. Seriously ... stay right there."
"You think I'm contagious?!"
"Calm down, Herkimer ... calm," the skunk whispered, motioning with both his paws, "down. Alright? Alright?"
The mouse twitched, looking around frantically.
"Take a deep breath." A pause. "You listening?"
An absent nod.
"Take a deep breath."
The mouse did so. And again. And ... again.
"Now, sit back down."
Twitching, Herkimer did so.
"Fleas," Welly whispered, "are a very, very common ... furry," he said, "malady."
"I thought you gave me a dosage before I went down. You rubbed that gel on my nape."
"Well, it, uh ... didn't work. Here." The skunk tossed the mouse his scanner.
Herkimer caught it. Stared. And shuddered. "They're on my ... skin," he whispered. "Beneath my fur." He squirmed. "It itches! They're sucking my blood!" He dropped the pad, which fell to the carpet.
Welly almost broke out into laughter ... at the mouse's off-the-wall, panicky reaction, but ... held it back. Cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, gonna quarantine you."
"Oh. My. Gosh ... I'm gonna ... I got a blood disease, right? It's breaking down my tissues?"
"Herkimer ... PLEASE. Calm down."
The mouse's whiskers twitched. And his paws scratched all over. He suddenly felt a lot itchier. Scratch-scratch.
"Herkimer, you're shedding fur all over the med bed," the skunk said, sighing. "Stop scratching."
"It itches," the mouse whimpered. "Really bad."
"Probably not as bad as you're imagining it to be ... now, CALM. Down." The skunk went to a console. Tapped a few buttons.
And a blinking hum.
"What?" The mouse sat up straight, ears swiveling. Dishy ears perked. "A force-field?"
"Quarantine," Welly repeated. "I don't want fleas spread around the ship. You're staying here. I'm gonna give you a special hypo. I think it should kill the fleas in, like, seven hours."
The mouse whimper-squeaked, drooping.
"Herkimer ... PLEASE," Welly whispered. "Now, I gotta ... scan myself. And access internal sensors. Hopefully, you're the only one that has them. Otherwise, we're gonna have to gas the bridge and all that ... NOT fun," the skunk assured.
"This is all my fault," the mouse whispered dejectedly. "I guess my ... my blood's too sweet."
Welly burst out chuckling. "Oh ... Herkimer," he breathed.
The mouse smiled sadly, stuck on the med bed, a force-field circling it. "Mm ... "
"I'll take care of you, my friend," the skunk whispered warmly. "Okay?"
A weak nod.
"Hey," Welly whispered. "Okay?"
"Okay," the mouse assured.
"Love ya, bud. Alright?"
"Thanks ... really, Welly. You're my best friend," the mouse admitted. "I love you, too," he whispered. "Thank you."
"No problem. Now, just sit still, breathe, and ... I'll do some scans and get a hypo. Maybe try and get some sleep while you're in there? You look like you could use some rest."
The mouse nodded meekly. "Okay," he whispered, sniff-twitching, and he sighed heavily. Trying not to itch. Trying not to scratch. TRYING not to think about the fleas in his fur. Gritting his teeth, he laid down on the med bed. Curled up into a fetal position (as mice often did when going to sleep).
Welly stood watch for a minute, making sure he closed his eyes and at least TRIED to rest. And then the skunk filtered to his office.
The snow rabbit cut the comm, sighed a bit, and walked back to the bed. Her snowy-white, supple breasts bobbing with her foot-paw steps. Body bending, crawling back over the sheets. And her white bobtail flicking a bit. Slender, long ears waggling. Every part of her ... seemingly sculpted from ice. So cool. So collected. So perfect.
And, beneath that exterior, a heart that burned so hot. And a body that burned hotter.
"What was the 'security breach'?" Ross asked, blinking, sitting up. Navy-blue sheets half-covering his own furry body. The meadow mouse's fur a dirt-brown. Very earthy. Ears dishy but flat. Tail shorter and stubbier than a regular mouse's tail. Herkimer and Advance, for instance, had longer, sleeker tails. (And Advance's tail even had fuzzy FUR on it ... being that he was a desert mouse.)
"Fleas," Aria supplied simply.
"Fleas?"
"A reality of furry existence." A pause. "Herkimer picked them up during our visit to the chipmunk colony. The doctor is running scans," she said, "to see if they've spread to anyone else ... "
"You were on that away mission," Ross whispered worriedly.
"Yes."
"Do you ... itch?" he asked.
"Not that I'm aware of. However, I've been asked to stay in our quarters until Welly's run his scans."
"Oh. Well, uh ... "
" ... we can pick up," she supplied for him, "where we left off?"
A shy, quiet nod. Still erect (beneath the sheets). Still wet ... from having been inside her. It had been unbelievably difficult to have her lift off his body. To break that natural, flowing rhythm of male and female give-and-take. To have to break from intercourse was just ... jarring!
"I don't believe you've gotten your flea medicine yet."
"No, I ... never did."
"It's customary to have a flea gel rubbed into your nape ... once a month. Every four weeks. It's mandatory, actually. But you're new ... so, I'll talk to Welly about starting you on dosages."
"So, it kills fleas?"
"It's supposed to soak into the skin and ward off fleas. It's quite effective."
"So ... well, so, how come Herkimer got fleas, then?"
"Because, sometimes, even the best technologies and medicines ... fail," the snow rabbit said simply. "It's simply how life goes."
"Yeah," Ross agreed. A pause. "So ... how come the CHIPMUNKS had fleas?"
"Their world is outside the jurisdiction of the furry federation ... the furry fleet. This particular chipmunk colony was very ... primitive," the snow rabbit offered. "They lived in dense woods. They're the 'back-to-nature' types."
"Well, I thought all furs loved nature. I mean, furs are FROM nature."
"We do," Aria assured. "But there are certain sects of furs that ... are SO 'back-to-nature' as to believe that using flea medicines is 'unnatural'. They also have an aversion to most forms of computer technology."
"Oh."
"But, as a furry ship, it is our duty to ... make contact with other furs. Protect them. Keep relationships open."
"Well, how did those chipmunks get this far away from ... their home-world?"
"Probably on a colony ship. A century or two ago. They probably came out here for the exclusive purpose of getting away from modern society."
"Like pilgrims? Looking for a new home ... "
"Something like that. But I am a snow rabbit. My system is ... an icy one. On the other side of our border, there are Arctic foxes. So, I am not the fur to ask when it comes to how warm-blooded furs operate. Sometimes, they are ... beyond my understanding."
"I guess I'm a warm-blooded fur."
"You are," she whispered, putting her paws on his chest. "I would not have it any other way." A breath. And her nose on his neck. "I believe we compliment each other very nicely."
Ross swallowed. Nodded. And started nosing her, too ...
The snow rabbit used a paw to tug at the sheets. To cast them away. Leaving the vole's body as bare as hers. And her paws traveled to his belly, as she laid beside him, half-sprawled across the top of him. Both of them at a horizontal lie-down.
"I'm, uh ... from a farm. From the countryside ... "
"I find that all mice are. Even ... even, it seems, humans who are TURNED into mice." An eye-smile. "Someone should do a study."
"Yeah," Ross agreed, smiling shyly, his chest being nosed. His collarbones being nosed.
Closing her eyes, the rabbit kissed at his neck. Breathing, "You miss nature ... you wish to be in it."
A quiet, breathing nod. "But, uh ... we can do that someday, right? I mean ... for now, I'm ... I'm glad to be on this ship. I really like it. The crew, and ... you," he stressed. "The places we go. I'm seeing things I could only ever dream of. It's ... a bit overwhelming," Ross admitted. "I'm in no hurry to settle down," he whispered to her, "just yet. I've not had my fill of the stars."
"Or of me," she told him.
"No ... not nearly," he squeaked lightly, "enough of you."
The snow rabbit was grinding her hips to his. From atop of him. Her foot-paws playing with his. Toes brushing his ankles. "It is important to you," she breathed. "Nature? Having roots in nature?"
A shy, little nod. Eyes half-open.
"Someday," she promised, "we will do so. But ... I wish to bring you to my world first. To stay there. To ... "
"Well, I know ... I wanna see your home. I just, you know, I don't wanna be on a spaceship for, like, THIRTY years. You know? We're young. And ... I just worry all the time, is all. I wanna be safe. With you. On a little farm ... with the sun and the ... you know," he whispered. "I don't wanna die in a vacuum. On a ship. Or in a city."
"I understand," the snow rabbit whispered.
"I don't wanna leave this ship. I just ... someday," the mouse whispered, "I'd like to settle on solid, rural ground."
The snow rabbit hugged him from above. "I promise you, Ross ... "
The vole closed his eyes. And breathed of her. Her warm, clean fur. He hugged back. His arms around her back.
"But do not let your mousey anxiety," she whispered, "distract you from the task at paw."
"The task ... "
"We have to breed," she whispered into one of his dishy ears.
"Breed," he echoed. Swallowing.
"Alas, to be furs ... "
"Alas," he agreed, meeting her muzzle, her lips ... in a wet, tilted kiss. And a sigh through his twitching, flaring nose. "Whatever," he breathed, kiss broken, "are we gonna do ... "
"I do not," she said cheekily, "know ... " Another kiss. And another. Nibbling on his lips.
He nibbled and sucked back.
She eye-smiled as she felt his hips squirming beneath her. His rigid mouse-hood poking at her fur. Humping very lightly. He was trying to penetrate her, but her legs weren't open ... and the softness of her fur ... he simply huffed and sighed as the pink, smooth, sensitive flesh of his cock rubbed those silky-white strands of fur.
A huff from her muzzle. And a passionate kiss. And, pushing off the mattress, getting up on all fours, she crawled.
His tongue was visible. He whimpered for it ...
A slight, swallowing nod from her. Crawl, shimmy ... and the vole literally drooling now. He adored her pussy. Pussy, pussy, pussy! Snow rabbit ...
Aria, on her shins, pads of foot-paws exposed, on her knees ... spread her legs a bit. And straddled the meadow mouse's muzzle. Her paws holding to the headboard of the bed. The snow rabbit lowered, lowered.
The first, tentative lick ... was always the most thrilling. That first, wet slurp of feminine essence. The heat and specialness of it. He took it. Drew a breath in through the nose. Breathe, breathe ... lick. Lick. Lick the tufts of white fur above her pussy-lips. Lick the fuzz around her vulva, right where the fur stopped and the flesh started. Lick those loose, luscious lips. Gently, delicately ... worm the tongue between them. Lap her labial insides ... up and down ... nibble on her clit. Poke her vagina with the tongue ... her unique taste ...
Aria drew a pleasured, sensitive breath, arching a bit, paws clutching the headboard. And she gyrated on his muzzle. Gently gyrating. Her bobtail flicked, and her slender ears drooped a bit. Breasts flopping lightly.
Ross huffing ... with both muzzle and nose. His whiskers tickling her labia. His tongue between the folds, worming all around. Centering all activities, ultimately, on her clitoris. Her jewel. Nibble ... nip!
Further wetting the pure pinks of her. Such fleshy pink!
A yip from her. A huff. "Ohh ... "
Nibbling with lips ...
"Ohhnn," she called, panting, swallowing.
Ross eased up on her clit, inching down her pussy.
She rode his muzzle harder. Breasts flopping.
The vole's penis was rigid. A rivulet of pre dripping down the front of the shaft. Balls swollen.
Lick ... swirling tongue. Worming, lips sucking ...
"Umm, uhhmm ... huhh ... " The rabbit mewed. Mewed with pleasure. Her pussy quivered. Hot, tingling spasms. Dribbling the vole's muzzle with yiffy femme juice ... the rabbit sagging as her eyes shut. As she swallowed and moaned her way through orgasm.
The mouse, nose, muzzle, and eyes ... full of pussy ... he pawed his stiffness. Pawed, pawed, and so worked up ... that it didn't take long. Muffled squeaks and chitters of pure, physical joy. "Hmmm ... mmf. Hmm!" His body writhing from it ... until, spent, he moaned once ... and went totally still. Tail trailing over the bed's edge. Fur flushed with sweat.
Semen, milky-white and still warm ... dribbled and dripped down the snow rabbit's back, which had been pelted with the bulk of Ross's helpless release. The snow rabbit shivered as she felt the seed slide onto the top of her bobtail. And she sighed and lifted her hips a bit ...
... and the vole huffed, huffed. "Oh," he breathed, sucking cooler air. And the rabbit slid back, back ... until she was at a horizontal lie-down on her mate. Her head on his chest, her cheek on his chest.
And his paws clung round her back. Squishing the seed into her fur (mostly by accident).
"Oh ... "
"Um ... uh, Aria ... " A breath. A watery-eyed, squeezing hug. "Mm. I love you."
"I love you, too," was her delicate whisper.
The meadow mouse breathed deeply. Squeaked. Breathed. "Mm ... that smell."
"Mm?" She opened her eyes, putting her chin on his chest. Meeting his eyes.
"That ... smell. I'm still getting used to having a furry nose. It's ... "
"The after-yiff smell. Fur, sweat ... fluid ... the air," she whispered, breathing deeply of it. Closing her eyes. Swallowing.
"Yeah," Ross sighed. "Oh ... " He hugged her dearly. And breathed deeply. And clung to his mate. A bit overwhelmed. But ... oh, clinging. The love and desire he had for his still-new mate ...
... not even BEGINNING to abate.
To have and to hold. For better or for worse.
Even if she ever had fleas.
"Herkimer ... "
A twitch-sniff. Eyes darting beneath closed lids.
"Herkimer ... "
Eyes snapping open. Squeak! Jerk!
"Hey, hey! Shh ... it's only me," hushed the cow.
The mouse huffed, closed his eyes. And sat up, nodding. "I ... sorry. I, uh ... mice are jumpy. You shouldn't wake us like that."
"No?" she asked, smiling. "How should mice be woken?"
A sigh. "Dunno, really," he offered, shrugging. "It's just me, maybe. I don't know ... I've been in here for five hours." He was still on the med bed. Still surrounded by a force-field. He'd taken the hypo. It needed a few more hours to kill all the fleas. Then, the mouse would have to hop into the shower in back. Scrub himself. Make sure all the fleas were really out.
The Jersey nodded.
And Herkimer drew some air. "I, uh ... what are you doing here?" A blink. Looking around. "Where's Welly?"
"He stepped out for a minute."
"Why?" A blink.
"I, uh ... asked him to."
"Oh."
"Mm." She nodded. Took a breath. "Just wanted to see you. See if you're okay, and ... all."
"I'm, uh ... doing well, I guess. Considering." A pause. "I have fleas," he said sheepishly.
"I kind of figured that out." A warm smile from her.
"You don't have them, too, do you?" he asked worriedly. She'd been on the away team with him ... down to the squirrel colony.
"No, I'm clean."
Herkimer fidgeted. Nodded. At a sit on the med bed, his foot-paws not reaching the carpet of the floor. And he held his tail in his paws. And didn't make eye contact.
"I, uh ... when you get out of there, you're gonna be hungry."
"Yeah," he whispered. "Maybe." Looking at the floor.
"Thought we could eat in the mess hall."
He looked up. "Like ... what? I mean, to eat?"
"I don't know. We're both vegetarians. Sure we can agree on something."
Herkimer sat up a bit straighter. Twitching. "Um ... sure. Yeah." A nod. "Yeah."
"You okay?" Opal whispered, shifting on her hooves.
"Yeah," Herkimer assured. His heart pounding. A swallow. "No," he whispered. "I ... you make me nervous."
A blink. Her big, wet nose taking a breath. "Nervous?" Her ears flapped.
"No, no, no ... not in a BAD way. I ... it's cause I, uh, LIKE, you, and I ... haven't had the best time, recently, at relationships," he said, meeting her eyes.
"I know," she said honestly. For she'd been the one to help him realize he needed to leave his abusive mate-ship with Advent, the jaguar. She'd been the one he'd broken down in front of. Sobbing, head on her breasts. Arms clutching her uniform. "You don't have to be embarrassed."
"I was an idiot."
"You made a mistake. You were lonely ... you know, it's ... you're not the only one that's ever happened to."
"Just the latest."
She made a sad, little face. "Herkimer ... alright, I CAME here cause ... Welly asked me to. I WANTED to, but I was afraid you'd turn me away." A pause. "Welly told me you liked me." A breath. "I'm glad that you do. I mean, you just said you did, right?"
A bashful nod.
"So ... we like each other. We both need mates."
"Yeah," he whispered, swallowing.
"I'm not like Advent. I'm not a predator. I would never hurt you."
His whiskers twitched. "I KNOW ... I'm just ... "
"You keep thinking it was YOUR fault? You're holding back because ... you want to punish yourself? Or ... want to be sad?"
"I don't wanna be sad," he insisted with frustration. "Look, I just ... I don't wanna rush into anything." A pause. "But ... I, uh ... " He cleared his throat. Squeaked a bit. "I have fleas," he offered lamely.
And the Jersey giggled a bit, smiling warmly. Ears flapping. Ropy tail slapping about a bit. "Well ... that's why you're stuck in here."
A weak smile in return.
"You'll be fine. Just don't worry about it. I don't care if you've had fleas. We've all gotten them at one time or another. Doesn't make you dirty or unclean or anything. From what I can tell, you're very fastidious."
"Most mice are," Herkimer admitted. "I like clean."
"So do I," she whispered.
"And I don't care," she continued, "that you were with ... a predator. Alright? I care about YOU. Your past is your past, and ... we ALL have one. A past, I mean. So ... don't tell yourself your not good enough. You're good enough for ME. I want you," she said simply. In straightforward fashion. "So ... supper? And, then, uh ... something else?"
"Something else?" The mouse perked.
The cow flushed, lowering her voice, and admitting, "You, uh, keep staring at my breasts."
The mouse's ears burned hot. A rosy-pink. "Um ... um, Opal ... "
"It's okay," she admitted, smiling. "It's ... flattering. Really."
"I'm sorry."
"Hey. Herkimer."
He bit his lip.
"It's alright. But, I mean ... if you wanted some milk," she whispered, flushing. "Later, I mean. After supper."
"Milk," he whispered.
"We lactate all the time ... once we reach adulthood. So ... " She trailed.
A breath. A deep breath from the mouse. "Oh. Yeah."
"Yeah?" A cheeky smile.
"Yeah, I'll ... do all that. Supper. All that."
"Tonight?"
"Well, it's already, like, eight ... by the time I get out of here, it'll be ten. The mess hall will be all dimmed."
"Makes it more romantic," she replied. "And you DO need to eat. I know how easy it is for rodents to become anorexic."
"I guess we're just full of problems," Herkimer said of himself.
"No," she whispered certainly. "No, you're just ... you NEED someone to care for you. You need someone to watch over you. You're just ... submissive. A dependent. Just the way God made you. And I'd like to think he made furs like ME ... to be your counter." A pause. "I'd like to try and be that ... for you," she added.
Herkimer opened his muzzle to say something ...
A door chime interrupted.
"That's probably Welly. He probably wants back in," Opal said, looking to the door. And the cow looked to the mouse. "I need an answer. I don't wanna leave here and worry for the next few hours. Should I come back for you? When you're released?"
"Are you saying ... this is a mate-ship? You really wanna try?"
"Oh, I'm gonna do more than try, mousey," she assured confidently. Nodding slightly.
And Herkimer flushed, nodding back at her. A non-verbal yes.
And she smiled.
Another door chime.
The mouse giggled very shyly, and Opal smiled ... going for the door. Opening it.
Revealing the skunk, who stood on his foot-paws, nose sniffing curiously. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said, feigning innocence.
"I know you were setting us up, Welly," Herkimer responded, still sitting on the med bed.
"Heh ... you told!" the skunk accused Opal, looking to the cow.
"Never tell a cow a secret. We've got big mouths." A giggle.
"Among other things," was Welly's cheeky retort.
Opal shook her head with amusement. "Not gonna respond."
"To what?" Welly asked, feigning innocence again.
Opal, at the door now, waved her hoof-like hand. "I'll be back for you later, okay?" she said to Herkimer.
" ... 'kay," Herkimer whispered shyly, watching her go.
Welly, nodding, had a toothy grin.
Herkimer, blinking out of his daze, looked to his best friend. "What are you beaming about?"
"Love-furs! Love-furs!"
"Will you STOP? You set us up!"
"Aren't you gonna thank me?" the skunk asked, still grinning.
The mouse sighed. Eyes looking around. And he smiled. Nodding. "Yeah ... thanks, Welly."
"You're welcome. Be happy, okay? Have fun?" the skunk asked. "She's a good femme. She's not like ... " He trailed, not mentioning the jaguar's name. "But make it work, okay? Have fun?" he said again.
"I promise," the mouse assured.
The doctor took a deep breath. "Now," he said. "Back to the flea business. No one else on the ship has them. Just you, so ... no need for other quarantines. BUT ... I'm making sure everyone gets a second dose of flea gel tomorrow. Just to be safe."
Herkimer nodded. "So, I can go?"
"Two more hours. Then you gotta shower."
The mouse nodded again. "Mm ... "
A moment of silence.
"Welly ... "
The skunk looked up from his console. "Mm?"
"Does everyone on the ship know I got fleas?"
"Well ... not everyone, no."
"Good."
"Maybe, like, two or three furs ... don't know yet. But ... "
Herkimer made a face.
Welly chuckled. "Oh, come on, Herkimer. They'll be gone soon. And this isn't gonna happen EVERY time you go on an away mission, so don't start freaking out about leaving the ship now ... besides, being stuck in here ... it got you a mate. And you learned the satisfaction of scratching a good itch."
"A good itch?" Herkimer, flushing, scratched his claws through his fur. Ooh ... it itched more now. "Good itch ... these are NOT good itches!"
"One itch is better than none."
"What does that mean?"
"It means sometimes you gotta get bitten ... to be motivated to scratch."
The mouse made a face. "What? That ... that makes NO sense. I have FLEAS!"
The skunk chuckled, having to sit down. "Mm. Herkimer, you're awesome. Now, hey, let's talk about basketball."
"Basketball?"
"Yeah, when Captain lets me do my staff day, I'm choosing basketball for our sport ... you wanna be on my team?"
The mouse smiled. "Sure," he whispered. So nice to be wanted. Not just for lusty reasons (as Advent had wanted him), but for emotional ones. Loving ones. Friendly ones. By so many furs. He was, indeed, blessed. And ... he thanked God for that. For all he had ...
"So, what sport are you choosing? Basketball, too ... "
"Well, actually, I thought I'd ... "
And the two friends chatted in the sickbay. The mouse's fleas (and his worries) melting away as he talked.
Maybe anxiety wasn't so powerful after all.
There were a lot of things ... that were so much stronger.