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" Zootopia: No-go with Bogo?! Ch. 1"

By Amadeus Wolfpaw

"Are you sure it's fine?"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure," said Bogo into his phone.

"Well, okay then. Again, I'm really sorry about..."

"Forget it, it's fine. I didn't really have anything special planned anyway." He mumbled as he inhaled the food he had prepared.

"Alright, goodbye then." The voice on the other side of the device vanished, and Bogo slapped it down onto his granite counter.

The apartment was fairly quiet in the aftermath of the conversation. Only the sound of his breathing could be heard throughout the square footage. Bogo hovered over the phone, staring down at it like it was his nemesis. Unfortunately, as much as Bogo wanted to crush it for what had transpired, he needed it on hand in case of an emergency. The cape buffalo sat down on one of the stools he had placed around his island. Placing his hooves on his head, feeling the curve of his brow, he continued to be assaulted by the smell of the food that he'd prepared for his date. A defeated groan escaped his lungs.

"And three," Bogo grumbled under his breath. "Three dates planned in a week, and not one happened." The ZPD chief was not one to talk to himself.

With a damaged ego, Bogo got up from the stool and grabbed the plates that he'd set out. Opening the kitchen cabinet doors, he stared to put them back in place as his situation persistently irked him. It was not that the chief had done anything wrong, anything to deter his guests from arriving, it was merely a matter of bad luck. The first one had a family emergency and had to cancel the day before. Bogo understood that perfectly fine; he held no quarrel over that. The second one happen midweek. They'd met while Bogo stopped for coffee on his way to work. She seemed nice enough, and there was a mutual appreciation for hard work. They agreed to meet for lunch, but then she got called away for work an hour prior. Once again, Bogo had a respect for someone that treated their job so seriously. Of course, one couldn't say the same for the buffalo's ego. And then there was his date on Friday night. He'd met her late Thursday while getting a plate ran at the Department of Mammal Vehicles. They had bonded over a common enemy: lines. But just like the other two, some incident had come up and prevented her from arriving at all. The blow was critical; not even one of the ZPD's famed bulletproof vests could stop the impact it had.

The plates rung in the chief's ear as he put the last one in its place. Following this, he walked over to the mini fridge inserted into his island and pulled open the door. Once the cold snapped his nose, he reached in and grabbed three different bottles of various sizes. He placed them on the counter and spun around. He grabbed a clean martini glass from his cupboard and set it next to the bottles. His date didn't matter anymore; it was the last thing on his mind as he reached for the mixer he had stashed under the island. Bogo found himself whispering to himself as he meandered to the icebox. He clutched a handful and crushed it in his hoof. It helped to alleviate some of the frustration. The crushed ice fell into the mixer and Bogo wasted no time throwing in the other three colorful liquids. The rattle of the ice from within the shaking mixer was a sound all too familiar for Bogo. He'd heard its comforting chime many times over the last few months, only this night the rattle sounded more like a scream. The chief skipped the salt, and doused the empty glass with a wave of red and gold. He held it up by the neck and snorted. "Primal Desire," he said, "the only constant guest around here."

The drink had disappeared, and Bogo was never the wiser. He threw the glass in the farmhouse sink, causing an ill-advised clang to sound throughout the apartment. Bogo was in no danger of having his neighbors complain, for he was up on the fortieth floor. The view of Zootopia at night from his window was astounding, but Bogo had mainly purchased the property for its location, not its amenities. The skyscraper was close to the heart of Central District, which made his commute to work only an elevator ride, and then a short five-minute drive through city central. If he wanted, he could have ditched his car, but his job demanded he have one in the event of emergency. Besides, being a chief of police pays well enough. He could afford the view that bloated the price of the property. He'd been living there for several years, and with things beginning to look up in the city after the incident with former Mayor Bellwether, he could spare the time to try and revitalize his life outside work.

Bogo had planned his entire Friday night around this date, and now that it went south he had no other plans. As the chief of the ZPD's central district, he should've had the foresight to plan ahead. With his luck, he must have known that something was going to go awry. Misfortune oft comes guised in gold, and the cape buffalo only saw this in hindsight. Rubbing his closed eyes, Bogo sighed. He made his way over to his couch, which sat parallel to his television set, and flopped down. The repentant mammal had enough turmoil this last week. His heart pounded with the angst of his predicament, despite only having a single drink. Bogo rolled over onto his side and laid out across the couch with his back hooves in the air. Slowly, his chest rose as the smell of his dinner chased him across the room. He grumbled to himself, but that hardly impacted the smell. Bogo rolled over and placed a pillow from the couch over his head to cover the smell. He intended to lay that way for the rest of the night.

Three loud thuds cracked the stillness of the dimly light apartment. "K is for knocking!" Bogo recognized the voice.

"Clawhauser?" The chief whispered to himself.

Bogo threw the pillow down and rose from this position on the couch. He placed a hoof on his neck and massaged it gently as he headed for the front door. He hadn't been expecting Clawhauser, or anyone else that night. The situation was startling to say the least, but nonetheless Bogo sought to resolve it. He saw light coming in from the crack under the door, and he grasped the doorknob with a firm grip.

Twisting the knob, Bogo pulled open the door and found his receptionist standing before him. He wore a gray, zipped hoodie and brown jeans with a belt. His paws were in the pockets of his hoodie and he bounced on his toes as he looked up at Bogo. A gooey smile stained his face, and Bogo could already begin to feel his charisma gasping for air. Clawhauser had always had that effect on those around. He was always so damn happy it almost made Bogo sick, but the buffalo crossed his arms and smirked. Clawhauser didn't bat an eye. The hallway was empty, only the two remained present.

"What do you want, Clawhauser?" he asked the cheetah. Ben's tail flared, and the tip rose over his elastic head.

"Oh please, Chief. We're not at work right now. You can call me Ben." His words were incinerated by Bogo's gaze. Clawhauser noticed, and he quickly cut with the small talk. "Anyway," he continued, "Officer Hopps told me to drop these off." He reached around to his back pocket and pulled out a beige folder. The tab told Bogo that it was part of a case file. Surely it was something that could've waited until the work week, but it was not as if Bogo had anything else to do. The chief snatched it from Ben's paw and opened it. His suspicions had been correct. It was just a file about a petty robbery that had taken place the previous night. Clawhauser's paws were together, and his glow seemed to have dimmed. His voice weakened as he spoke up. "Judy said you needed to go over these. Is this a bad time?"

"What do you think, Clawhauser?" Bogo snapped. The rotund mammal's eyes widened, and his tail winched.

"I see. So this is a bad time. I guess I'll just leave you to..."

Bogo watched as Clawhauser's nose began dancing across his face. He smelled something, and the chief figured out quite quickly what he'd been sniffing. Turning his head, Bogo saw that the food he'd prepared still lingered on the table. He had been trying so hard to repress the smell that he'd forgotten to stash it away. He was a bit embarrassed to admit it, but the alcohol had seemed to take the priority. Bogo watched as Clawhauser's smile returned, and his paws soon cupped his two chins.

"Oh...em...goodness! Chief Bogo is on a date! I'm so sorry to have intruded. I'm sure you're having a great time and here I am burdening you with more work. Sorry to be the messenger, Chief. I'll let you get back to it. Tootles." The chief watched in utter confusion as the cheetah bumbled away. The man had made a complete turnaround in his flow, going from apologetic to springy in a matter of words.

Bogo never understood Clawhauser's optimism. He was far too bubbly for the chief's taste. On the other hand, though, Bogo had been a little snobbish out of his own strife. He quickly realized that he'd been uncharacteristically rude, well ruder than usual. Bogo watched as Ben walked down the hall, swaying a little from side to side. He attributed this to his heftiness, but if he was to make amends for his behavior he'd best do it quickly.

"Clawhauser!" The chief's voice rolled down the hall, and both of Clawhauser's ears turned at the sound of it.

The cheetah turned around and saw the chief in a way he hadn't before. He looked almost like a normal mammal. Not stern or grumpy, not even a little irked. Clawhauser saw a different Chief Bogo than the one at the office. This Bogo worn a look of sincerity, and his arms weren't crossed like they usual were. He'd only seen Bogo out of character like this one other time. It was when they'd attended the Gazelle concert together. Ben stood there in the hall, his paws still in his pockets. His tail lowered, and he raised his voice to match the distance from the door.

"Uh, yeah Chief?" Clawhauser watched as Bogo sighed.

"I'm sorry for...you know, my jeers. It's been a long week at work," said the chief.

"It has? I barely received any calls at the front desk. But then again I don't do much paperwork, so I guess you probably have it a bit harder than I do." Clawhauser still hadn't moved from his position, so the two were still speaking a little louder than they should've been. "But surely your date is making up for it. That food smells awesome!" He was giddy as always. Bogo was not amused. Clawhauser had unintentionally hit a sensitive topic for Bogo.

"Yeah, about that. I don't actually have a date tonight anymore. It was cancelled." From the doorway of his apartment, Bogo could see Clawhauser cover his mouth in surprise. The cheetah's tail grazed the carpeted floors of the building, and his pupils narrowed.

"The chief got stood up? But who would be dumb enough to do that? You're such a catch!"

For a moment, Bogo and Clawhauser locked eyes. The cheetah's infectious optimism in the face of such calamity burned through Bogo's outer shell. Bogo couldn't explain it, but there was something about Ben's penetrating smile that made his dilemma seem not so horrible. It was almost as if the cheetah had parted the clouds over his head and let the sunlight shine once more over the chief's Friday night. He couldn't bring himself to smile, but Bogo couldn't deny that there was something about the way Clawhauser looked at him. In that moment, Bogo tried to swallow, but his throat was found dry.

"Uh, Clawhauser," the cape buffalo began, "I appreciate the comment. But unfortunately there's not much to be done about it. It is what it is."

"Well, how about some company? Would that make the big police chief feel better?" said Clawhauser from down the hall. "I mean, we're friends aren't we? And we haven't hung out since the Gazelle concert a couple weeks ago. Besides, it's Friday night! I'm sure there's something decent on television. Or we could go out to a bar. Just a fair warning though, Chief. I'm not much of a drinker. It gives me the shivers." Ben whispered the last sentence, but it wasn't as if there was anyone around to hear him. Bogo was not opposed to the idea of having Clawhauser join him for a while. It would give him something to do, and it would mean that he wouldn't have to waste the food after all. He'd put a lot of work into preparing it. He failed to see in the harm in indulging his receptionist a little bit. Clawhauser was right about one thing, they were friends after all.

"Well, I'm not really in the mood to go out. But you can come in if you want. Have you eaten yet tonight?"

"Actually, I was going to grab some takeout on my way home."

"Come inside then, I think you'll like this better." Bogo gestured for Clawhauser to come inside, and the cheetah happily complied.

Ben bounced down the hall until he had reemerged at Bogo's door. Clawhauser had never set foot inside Bogo's apartment before, not even when they'd met up for the concert. Then again, Clawhauser was convinced that no one in the ZPD had ever seen the inside of Bogo's living quarters. He wasn't exactly the most social individual. Once he'd passed through the front door, the smell of the food on the table wasn't the only thing that Clawhauser noticed. The floors of Bogo's apartment were hardwood, a deep rosewood, and they ran continuously throughout the entire space. The kitchen appliances all had chrome finishing, and there was no question that Bogo had a giant plasma screen TV set up across from the couch.

"Oh, by Dickens' name, the Chief has a mancave!" exclaimed Clawhauser. Bogo chuckled a bit to himself as he closed the door and turned up the lights.

"I don't know if I'd say that, but it's definitely got some of the pieces."

"Are you kidding me, Chief?" argued the pudgy mammal, "You have a fully operational Jaguar Surround System? The JSS? These just came out like...a week ago. And they already sold out! How did you even get that? Nevermind the massive plasma screen." The cat pointed to the screen mounted on Bogo's wall, and all the buffalo could do was shrug his shoulders. As he walked to the island, he answered Clawhauser.

"Being chief puts me in touch with a lot of people. Especially anything that involves surveillance. Let's just say that my acquaintance over at Beast Buy knows how to spot a bargain when they see one." Bogo popped a bottle of wine as Clawhauser's jaw dropped.

As Bogo sat down on the island stool, Clawhauser had just arrived. He too found his place before the meal and smiled upon seeing it. Despite the fact that both had very different appetites, Bogo had been wise to prepare a meal consisting of both supplements necessary for predator or prey. Bogo had never tried real meat, just the prey replacement. Instead he got most of his protein from beans and iron pills. Clawhauser on the other paw was more into the lighter food. And the dish before him seemed to fit the bill, at least enough to satisfy him. The smell wafted through the air between them, and the cheetah was quick to place a paw on his cheek and lean against the counter.

"I never would've thought that you could cook, Chief. You always seemed like the frozen and take-out type of man."

Bogo cracked a grin, but only for a moment. He sliced the first piece of his meat supplement before he responded to his guest. "Ten years ago, you would have been right. I was never one to cook when I was younger. I did every once in a while, but only when I was axed." Clawhauser's ears twitched as Bogo brought the food to his mouth. The cat took his own turn to cut himself a piece, followed by further inquisition.

"Makes sense. So in what part of the ghetto did you grow up? I'm a Southside boy myself."

At the mention of Bogo's old home, he almost gagged. His throat involuntarily fluxed, and he had been lucky that he hadn't tried to swallow. How did Clawhauser know about the ghetto? No one knew that he'd grown up in the slums of the city. It was a part of Bogo's past that he'd tried to forget, but it was apparent that Clawhauser had figured it out. The buffalo stood up and tried to mask his embarrassment with more alcohol from the mini fridge. But it seemed his effort were nihil.

Clawhauser looked over the granite counter and watched his boss try and disguise his shame. His ears were dangling like lead weights, and Clawhauser could hear Bogo scrambling to open the other bottle of wine. "Uh, Chief?" the cat said in a gentle voice. The Chief plopped his hoof onto the counter and dragged himself up from behind the island. He sat still in his chair for a few moments, pierced by Clawhauser's gaze. Bogo could hear the cheetah's tail swishing back and forth behind him, like a pendulum with increasing intensity. Before long, Bogo found himself fidgeting. He'd become antsy, and unusually disarmed. He reached for his utensils, hoping to move on from the subject. Clawhauser, however, seemed determined to get some sauce out of the Chief. "Chief?"

"What?" he exclaimed. The truth can be a powerful thing, and in this case it had melted away Bogo's stoic façade.

"Did I say something wrong? Do you not want to talk about,"

"It's fine, Ben. Really. It's just that...no one knows about that. I'm just trying to figure out, you know, how did you...?"

Clawhauser smiled, as he did, and reached over to Bogo. With a soft pat on his hoof, Clawhauser leaned in and blinked in an excited manner. Bogo could tell that his guest was preparing for a hearty dose of reassurance. The Chief could feel his hasty heartbeat soften. In the stillness after, only the sound of the city below permeated the silence.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Chief. Who cares if you came from a less than admirable neighborhood? Officer Wilde has the same story, right? Besides, I'm honestly surprised no one else has noticed. Your accent is a dead giveaway." In that moment, Bogo realized that perhaps it wasn't that no one had noticed, but rather that Clawhauser was the first to say something. It had been true that Bogo, despite being prey, didn't grow up in the richest of households. He and his family had to work their way up in the city, with Bogo finally making the breakthrough for which his family had strived. It was an accomplishment, but at the same time a yellow target. The Chief steadied his breathing, and he looked at Clawhauser squarely in the face.

"Southside, huh? I guess we grew up in the same part of the Meadowlands then." He watched as Clawhauser smiled, teeth showing and all. Bogo had lit the fuse.

For the remainder of their meal, they shared fond memories of growing up in the Meadowlands of Zootopia. Clawhauser had a fascinating array of stories to share. Not all of them included legal actions, but neither were cops at the time, so Bogo was in no position to take action. Much to Ben's surprise however, most of the Chief's stories involved a young, shy Bogo. Clawhauser was shocked to hear about how meek the Chief was in his earlier years, and the conversation continued all the way through cleanup.

"So you just watched him do it?" Clawhauser asked.

"What was I supposed to do? I wasn't all that tough then," defended the Chief.

"Which I still find hard to believe."

Clawhauser placed his dish in the sink and returned to the island to grab his utensils as Bogo turned on the sink and began to scrub. The sound of the running water forced them to speak up a bit, but not enough to disturb the neighbors. Bogo finished relaying his story, and Ben just soaked it up. The cheetah had listened closely the whole time, awestruck by the tale. The Chief could tell that his receptionist had enjoyed hearing it more than him telling it.

"It must've been scary, though." Said Clawhauser.

"Not really. In those days, it was just part of living in Southside."

As Bogo ended his story, he looked over to see Clawhauser depart from his usual happiness. His face seemed to don and difference expression, one Bogo hadn't seen on Clawhauser very often. He could've been mistaken, but it almost looked like empathy. The Chief was not prepared for the look in Clawhauser's eyes, and before he knew it Ben had begun his own little story. Bogo finished the dishes and moved their discussion to the couch.

"It wasn't pretty," admitted Clawhauser.

Bogo listened, developing a newfound respect for his receptionist. Ben had a strange talent for masking his sorrows, and only now listening to Clawhauser talk about growing up in the same bad part of town made Bogo realize that he could've been worse off. "But then, my mom told be this story about a cheetah who wanted to go to the circus, and then..." he talked incessantly.

The conversation continued. They shared condolences about their experiences growing up, but it came to an end on a surprisingly happy note. After Clawhauser had finished another one of his tales, he lowered his voice and asked Bogo, "Want to see something cool?" Bogo, not familiar with Clawhauser's level of deviousness, encouraged that he go on. Ben started by unzipping his gray hoodie, revealing a green t-shirt underneath that read 'Beautiful Disaster.' This made Bogo chuckle. He expected nothing less from Benjamin Clawhauser. Afterwards, Ben pulled up his right sleeve and parted his fur and little bit. Ben turned his arm towards Bogo and asked him to read the words he had tattooed under his fur. Squinting, the Chief could see that Ben had a small line of black text inked onto his arm.

"Worth the drop?" As Bogo read the text out loud, Ben giggled a little bit.

"It's the story my mom told me, about the cheetah that wanted to go to the circus. The whole point was that life was kind of like a roller coaster. There's ups, and there's down. But the patience to go up is always worth the drop back down. Don't you think?"

The Chief analyzed Ben's words in his head. Never before had so few words moved him. In Bogo's life, especially given that he was raised in the Meadowlands, much of what he desired was denied him. His experiences had been a collage of grab and go, with barely a chance to stop and breathe. Far different from what his life and career had done for him since, his childhood wasn't the kindest in teaching life lessons. However, it seemed to Bogo that Clawhauser's household was considerably more caring than his own. Despite the reality of their circumstances, Mrs. Clawhauser, whoever she was, clearly remembered what was important in life. To her, nothing was better than watching her precious little Ben smile. Bogo found this admirable, and he'd realized it all from one simple sentence.

Benjamin saw Bogo blankly look at him. His chief was not present, he was lost somewhere else. "Uh, Chief?" Ben said as he waved his paw in front of Bogo. "Chief!" He said a bit louder. Bogo snapped out of his session and looked at Ben on the couch next to him. The cape buffalo wasn't sure what to say. In such a short time the cheetah had made more of an influence on him than anyone had since adolescence. Ben's mom had shown Ben what mattered, and now she'd indirectly taught it to Bogo as well.

"Sorry, Ben," he began. "I was just thinking about what a great person your mom sounds like. I bet she's a saint. You're lucky to have her."

"I am, aren't I?" Ben giggled. He folded his paws and put them on his lap afterwards. "I don't see her in person as much as I used to, but I talk to her on the phone every day. And she always sends me something Gazelle related on my birthday. We always spend the holidays together, with the rest of the family. I have eight siblings, you know?"

"Wow, really? I never saw that in your file." Bogo couldn't relate, for he had been an only child.

"It's not something that comes up as often as you'd think. We're all about the same age, only a few minutes apart. But there aren't any favorites. Mom and Dad love all of us equally. Though, I don't remember her telling the roller coaster story to anyone else."

"Maybe you needed it the most?" suggested Bogo.

"Maybe. I was pretty jumpy as a cub."

"Was?" Ben laughed at Bogo's joke, and the buffalo soon joined him. The sound of their joy rung through the room for several moments, and the conversation continued.

"Hey, Bogo?" asked the cheetah.

"What is it?"

"Can I ask you a personal question?" It'd been a while since anyone cared enough to say something like that to Bogo, and for a moment he was flustered.

"Define personal." Bogo retorted.

"What's your first name?" Hearing this, Bogo felt the subtle sting of disappointment.

"Oh, well...that's not really something I like to share." Bogo turned away from Ben and settled on the couch a bit more than he had. Ben extended a paw and placed it on Bogo's hoof.

"Why's that? Are you embarrassed by it?"

"A bit. I was told it was a girl's name."

"And why should that matter to you?"

"Well, my name...it's...flower..." Bogo waited for the snicker, but the room remained still.

"Flower? Sounds perfectly fitting to me. Flower Bogo."

"Uh, no. My name isn't Flower, it just means flower."

"What is it then? Tell me. I promise I won't laugh. Or giggle. Or any of that stuff." Bogo turned and saw Ben's eyes sparkling. Only sincerity inhabited those eyes, there was no trace of dishonesty. Bogo sighed and rubbed his neck. The last time he'd been so uncomfortable was during a twelve-hour stakeout with Officer S. Kunk.

"Okay. My name is...is..." It felt like an electric shock bit the tip of Bogo's tongue. He hadn't said his own first name aloud in quite some time; it almost felt like someone else's name. Ben waited in anticipation, gently rubbing Bogo's hoof to comfort him. "My name is...Mbali."

Bogo hadn't noticed his eyes were closed. "M-What?" asked a flustered Clawhauser. Of all the things that Bogo had expected, Ben tripping over his first name was not one of them. Pinching an eye open, it meandered over to Ben. Once it had arrived, Bogo could see the muddled expression on Ben's face. His eyebrow was curved, like a wave. The cheetah's mouth was hanging open slightly, only space occupied it. Bogo felt as though he'd begun to panic. He remained locked in a stare with Ben sure of his inevitable belittling. Bogo's cheeks flushed as his ears drooped. The cape buffalo looked like a deflated party favor. "I didn't quite get that," Ben said.

"M-Mbali," muttered Bogo. "My mother told me when I was younger that it meant flower. I remember being teased about it throughout my time at the academy." The Chief repressed all memory of the harassment he'd endured during training, he wanted only to stay wrapped in the illusion that Benjamin tolerated his name. The buffalo's knuckles tightened and his shoulders curled. He may as well have been naked.

Ensnared by stillness, Bogo waited while Ben processed the information. The Chief had run out of things to say; all that remained was for him to wait. Soon a light tap travelled up Bogo's arm, and the wave carried onwards to his face. He turned to Ben, and as if by magic the cheetah still wore that silly grin. "I like it. I think it suits you."

"You don't have to lie to me, Ben. I know it's..."

"I'm not lying, Mbali!" intruded Clawhauser. His tail flared, rising over his head in a fit of assertion. Bogo was stunned. "I am not lying, and here's why: flowers are some of the strongest things in the world! Like you. They endure rain, sun, wind, and snow. And you know what else? No matter what they always bloom, again and again every year! You are one of the strongest men I know, you know? You endure City Hall, storms of paperwork, and I'm sure Officers Hopps and Wilde give you more than one headache a day! If that doesn't make you a flower, nothing does!"

Benjamin's words stabbed Bogo. The heat in his eyes jumped out and set the buffalo's reservation alight. The Chief was trapped in his monologue, he'd nothing to say.

"Ben, I...I don't..."

"No! None of that, sir." Ben continued. "It takes a lot to be the Chief of Police, especially in a city as crazy as this one. Not just anyone is fit for a position like that, and I couldn't be any happier that it's you. I know you probably haven't noticed, or cared, but I enjoy the moments I get to see you. The way you're always getting your work done and sticking to the rules like a good cop, it inspires me, Chief. From the day you hired me at HQ you've inspired me to be a better cop. And there's no excuse for someone like you to be so insecure. I mean, look at me! I love Gazelle, my sweet tooth owns me, and I couldn't catch a sloth in a foot race! I'm the one who should be insecure, not you." Ben jumped on top of the couch and threw his arms around Bogo's neck. The cheetah pressed his cheek onto the Chief's head and rubbed him silly. Bogo froze. "I can't stand seeing you like this, Chief. It's not the same man I admire. Not the same one that inspires me every day." Ben's paw moved from Bogo's neck to his back. The buffalo felt his tight shoulders begin to loosen. Clawhauser slid down and buried his face into Bogo's scruff. The Chief felt droplets striking his fur. "Don't be like that, Chief. Trust me...it's no good."

A lifetime of timidities had been purged from Bogo with a single exhale, with dark circles appearing on Bogo's pants. His sniffling bounced across the room, only to be copied by Ben. Bogo reached up and grabbed Ben's arm. Grasping it, they stayed together under the dim lights overhead. The cheetah dampened his chief's shirt, while Bogo wetted Ben's arm. The minutes of sniffling and languishing waterworks carried them into the second hour. The sounds of the city below let them know it.

The bell first rang in Ben's ear, and when he heard it he popped up. "What?" he said stifled. "I-It's two o' clock? Oh, gees. I was supposed to be home already. I have to be at work tomorrow morning. Oh, the subway stopped hours ago, how am I gonna..."

The words ceased.

Ben felt a strong arm pull him in, followed by a thunderous heartbeat. Its rhythm kept pace with his breath, caked in a warm presence of passion. The cheetah focused on his captor, and he found a watery-eyed buffalo smiling at him. Not since the concert had Ben seen Bogo wear such an expression. It pierced him in a way no scowl could ever manage. Ben's palms moistened, his tail stiffened. His eyes fixed on Bogo, and a steady giggled fractured the space between them. "Ben," purred Bogo, "Sometimes, you're too much."

Bogo's chest swelled, and his pulse accelerated. His face flushed, and for a moment he couldn't feel his legs. Ben had experienced a similar sensation, only it was his arms that had halted. Like gravity, Ben could not prevent himself from falling into Bogo. He was met with a hoof caressing his cheek, and thick lips pressed against his own. The instance that followed, silence surrounded the two. Ben pushed his paw up Bogo's torso, returning to its former position around his neck. Ben pushed himself onto Bogo, kissing him forcibly. Bogo responded with a brief pause, but followed it quickly with a flurry of kisses on the lips, cheek, and neck. Clawhauser gasped in question of his reality. Bogo's hooves travelled across Ben's hips, then his back. Soon Bogo was cupping Ben's head, and he returned Ben's kiss with a deep lunge of his own. Ben threw himself into the kiss, grabbing the chief's head in an act of submission. Saliva leaked from their mouths, and only the sound of gruff breathing penetrated the air.

Lip-locked, Bogo grabbed Ben by the hips and pulled him in closer. Ben was receptive of this, and his tail began to thrash. The soft touch of Bogo's hooves made Ben insatiable. He needed more. Ben's tail swept across the cape buffalo's leg, sending a tingling sensation though all the right places. The chief gasped, and then like clockwork he'd begun to sweat. Clawhauser could feel the chief's restlessness. Ben pulled away from Mbali, if only to bring himself back down. What he found was a disgruntled buffalo, baring a look of wonder as well as disbelief. It had not been an awkward silence that grabbed them this time, but rather frail one. Ben released Bogo's neck from his paw and let it slink down until it hit his leg. Bogo also released Ben from his grip. From the cheetah escaped a gratifying exhale, and Bogo let a sly grin slither onto his face.

"Um, Ben..." he began. "I know you're worried about getting home. But perhaps, you'd rather...stay here tonight?" The words poured from Bogo's lips, the very same lips to which Ben had become addicted.

"I like that idea. But howsabout we stay like this for a while? I feel safe when we're together like this." Both animals smiled.

"Whatever you want, Ben. I promise you're safe here with me."

"I know. And we're gonna leave it that way." Ben snuggled himself into Bogo's shoulder, and the buffalo wrapped his arm around him as they sank into the couch corner.

Bogo found it hard to explain the way he felt. It wasn't as if he'd been interrogated, or rather that he'd been striped. Instead, Bogo felt what he decided to be contentment. He wasn't sad, nor was he exhilarated. Bogo felt an equilibrium, a euphoric balance of passion and comfort. It was one of the best feelings he could remember. Ben had begun to purr soon after, and the vibrations massaged Bogo's muscular chest. Bogo's grin, the one Ben had gifted him, hadn't faded. He noticed that Ben's eyes had closed, and he may have been drifting off without him. Bogo didn't mind.

As the hour finally began to catch up with Bogo, he noticed something. Ben's right arm had turned towards him. Through the matted fur, likely a result of their earlier actions, Bogo could faintly make out the words: Worth the drop.

Bogo sighed, and then he looked at Ben. The drowsy cheetah's nose twitched, and he curled himself into Bogo's chest. At this, Bogo smiled. "Damn straight."

And soon, he too drifted away.