FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Good, now... hold it..." Jason was taking pictures of Dox, who was sitting, of course, on a white concrete bench. Clicking off several frames, he checked his work on the camera's built-in monitor, nodding to himself with satisfaction. "That's pretty good," he said, "Why don't you sit down next to the bench and use it as a back rest?

"Like this?" Dox said, as he lowered himself to the ground. Drawing one knee up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around it and leaned back.

"Great!" Jason said, clicking the shutter repeatedly. "Now look to your left and let your face go blank."

"So when are we going to have dinner with your folks?" Dox asked, keeping his expression neutral as Jason moved around him, catching him and the beloved concrete bench from all angles.

"I dunno," Jason deferred. "Do you think you can get underneath the bench?"

Dox looked skeptical. The space Jason wanted him to crawl into wasn't the cleanest place in the world, and he had two classes left after this one. He didn't want to go through the rest of the day in filthy clothes. "Can I wear your sweater?"

Now it was Jason's turn to look doubtful. "Uh... Can you wear it inside out?"

Dox considered this for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. After the number of odd positions and poses Dox put Jason through for his portrait assignment, he could hardly expect Jason to not ask the same of him, so he gave in with good grace. "Give it to me."

Taking as much care as he could to not grind Jason's sweater into the dirt, Dox folded himself up and worked his way under the bench, trying his best to not look bitchy. He liked to be clean, damn it.

Jason, on the other hand, was ecstatic. He gathered a handful of leaves from the grounds and distributed them around Dox, trying to make it look as if he'd been lying there for some time. "That's great! Now, try to look like you don't want to be down there."

"I really don't want to be here!" Dox protested, but he replaced his neutral expression with a scowl and tried to look discontented. Turning his head this way and that, he contorted his body in the confined space in a bid to satisfy Jason's creative urges. Jason was clicking away madly as Dox asked, "How about this weekend?" He listened for an answer while trying to wrap his arm around his head.

"That might work," Jason said, hesitantly. The tone in his voice made Dox squirm around in his confined space and look at him.

"Ow!" Dox yelped, causing Jason to turn around in concern.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," Dox said, grumpily, "I just sat on my own tail." Heaving his body up as much as he could, he shifted his hips until his tail was in a more comfortable place.

"That gives me an idea," Jason said, "can you pass your tail through to the front?"

Dox muttered something under his breath and fished his tail through the small space between his hip and the underside of the bench. Jason gently pulled it out as far as it would go and, resisting the urge to give it a playful tug, arranged it in front of Dox, striving for an artistic effect.

Jason stepped away, evaluated his handiwork, and shot frames from several angles.

"I don't get it," Dox said, wanting to continue their earlier conversation, "why the bad vibes? We've been trying to have dinner with your folks for three weeks now, and every date I suggest gets shot down."

Jason gently set the camera down on the bench and helped Dox to his feet. Dox brushed leaf litter from his front and shoulders, and Jason did his best to swat them off Dox's back. He wisely chose not to tell Dox that a live spider had been in the collection of debris he'd brushed off of him. "I dunno," he said, thinking about it. "We thought that your parents were going to be the easy ones, and look how that turned out."

"That's different," Dox said, slapping the dust from his knees. Fortunately it hadn't rained recently, so he didn't have to worry about mud, just loose dirt. "My folks knew that I was probably gay, and... Oh, I see your point." His face fell a bit. "I just talked myself out of my own argument."

"Yeah. It's a lot to spring on them at one time," Jason said.

"Why do we have to tell them anything?" Dox said. "If they see me around often enough, they'll figure it out. Maybe they'll get used to it slowly and won't freak out."

"Yeah," Jason said, "this is my dad we're talking about. The man who gives his son condoms so he can bone the cheerleaders at booze parties?"

"Oh, right." Dox said, deflated. He knew Jason was right, but he also knew in his heart that he was right as well. "Speaking of which, how long has it been since you've been to one of those?"

"Too long," Jason said, looking dejected. "My dad's all over my case about it. The only thing that's keeping him from strapping me in the car and driving me to the fucking party himself is that my grades are going through the roof."

Dox had an idea. "Hey, why don't you sell that to him as your strategy? You partied hard the first two years to build a social base, and now that you've been noticed by the recruiters, you need to work on your grades to sink the hook." He grabbed Jason's letter jacket excitedly and pulled him towards the library. "Come on, there's something I want to check out."

Dox held the library doors open for Jason as he explained, in tones meant to instruct an unfortunately slow child, "This is the library, meathead. It's where we keep the books!"

"Ha ha, very funny," Jason said, chucking Dox on the shoulder. The quiet smile he gave Dox told the smaller dog that he enjoyed being his meathead, and no one else's. "So what are we here for?"

"We're going to do a quick bit of research," Dox said, walking quickly toward the computer terminals in the back of the building.

"We're supposed to be doing our photography assignments," Jason whispered.

Dox took the camera from his hands, shot a picture of him, and then handed the camera back. "There. 'Subject number five: Take a picture of a person in an unfamiliar place'."

"You're making that up!" Jason hissed, but he followed Dox to the back of the library. "Why are we all the way back here?" He asked, "There are plenty of terminals up front."

"Yeah," Dox said, absentmindedly, "but those are filtered. I need one that doesn't have nanny software on it."

Jason chuckled, "What, are you going to look up porn or something?"

"Worse," Dox answered, his voice grim. "ESPN."

Reaching a terminal reserved for faculty use, Dox entered a password and waited for the system to grant him access. Cracking his knuckles, he lay into the keyboard with a ferocity that Jason normally associated with an offensive lineman attacking a defensive guard.

Jason watched in fascination at the speed with which Dox typed. He also noticed that Dox almost never touched the mouse, electing instead to use the tab key and hotkeys to move the cursor from text box to text box faster than Jason's eyes could keep up. As soon as one search was in motion, he switched to a second window and started another. "Damn, you're fast," he whispered, "where'd you learn to do all this?"

"Hold on for a second," Dox said, immersing himself in what he was doing. Jason could tell that he was searching for some sort of information on college recruitment, but the data was flying across the screen so fast that he couldn't keep up with it. Dox was using search terms that Jason was familiar with, he saw football, recruitment, GPA, salary, and others, but was stringing them together using modifiers that he'd never seen before. After a minute or so, he gave up trying to understand it and just stood back, patiently waiting.

It took Dox longer than he'd expected, nearly five minutes, but when he sat back, he looked satisfied with himself. "So what did you find?" Jason asked, curiously.

"I pulled a list of incoming freshmen college football players to the top ten schools over the past ten years, filtered it by who was on full scholarship, and correlated that against their high school GPA's. Then I took that data, and made it a subset on a spreadsheet comparing college ball players with NFL draft picks, and their salaries after one, three and five years, referenced against the mean income of all players."

Jason looked a bit stunned, so Dox wrapped it all up for him. "I guessed right. In general, the higher your GPA in high school, the more likely you are to make it to the NFL, and the more likely you are to get a low draft number and make money afterwards."

"In general?"

Dox drummed his finger pads on the computer's keyboard. "Yeah, it looks like football scholarships and NFL recruitment starts dropping off if your GPA is above a 3.5 or so. I'm guessing that the guys who make the really good grades consider football to be a hobby and not a career.

"That's great," Jason said, "but I'm never going to be able to explain all that to my dad."

"That's okay," Dox said, smiling. He reached underneath the counter and handed him a piece of paper still warm from the laser printer, "I made a chart and printed it out for you."

"You did all that in five minutes?" Jason felt relief wash over him, and he grabbed Dox in a huge bear hug. "Aaw, puppy!" he said, happily rocking him back and forth, "You're the best!"

The cheerful reply was muffled from deep within the hug, "I know, right?"

Dox had paid attention when Jason told him not to dress up for dinner, but now he felt somewhat shabby. Smoothing his hair in Jason's bedroom mirror, he made a conscious effort to breathe slowly, even though it felt like he wasn't getting enough air. He liked to look sharp when having dinner at someone's house, and coming in off the street wearing blue jeans and a comfortable hoodie with the his high school's logo on it just seemed wrong somehow. But he hadn't yet gone wrong trusting Jason's instincts, and Jason said he looked fine, so he went with it.

Of course he'd already met both parents earlier, but this was different. He was going to have to start getting to know them now. He wasn't worried about Jason's mom. He'd had enough short conversations with Billie that he felt comfortable spending time with her.

Jason's dad, however, remained a complete mystery to Dox. If Jason brought Dox home after school, his dad's truck was almost never in the driveway. Even on the weekends, he seemed to spend most of his time either putting in extra shifts, or out at the lake fishing with his buddies. He'd only ever seen the man late at night when his shift was finally over.

Dox had spent enough time with Jason over the past couple of months to have a rudimentary knowledge of football, so he thought he could have a simple conversation with Mr. Thomas on that level, but beyond that he was lost. He had about as much in common with the man as a jet airplane has with a turnip.

Given the man's obsession with social status, Dox thought it very likely that he'd be asked about his, and Dox's social status was pretty much non-existent. He had no girlfriend, went to no parties, wasn't on a sports team, or even in the band. In short, he was a social nobody. Worse yet, he liked it that way.

Dox sighed reminding himself that he wasn't doing this for himself, he was doing it for Jason. He'd met Dox's parents, and now it was time for Dox to meet his. Brushing imaginary lint off of his sleeves, Dox mentally girded his loins and looked up at his boyfriend. "Okay, Jase. I'm ready."

Jason grinned and ruffled the hair on Dox's head. "All right! Let's do this!"

"What's for dinner, Ma?" Jason asked, as they invaded her kitchen with enthusiasm.

Billie looked at the bowl of buttermilk and the pile of seasoned flour on the counter underneath Jason's nose, then down at the huge, cast-iron skillet of chicken energetically frying in front of her. Raising an eyebrow at Dox, she asked, "Do you still think you can help him? I may have dropped him on his head one too many times as a baby."

Her smile was infectious, and Dox couldn't help but grin right back at her. "I'm trying my best," he said, "but it's not easy. Why'd you go and drop him on his head?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said, her tone exasperated, "I'd just get busy and forget he was sitting in my lap and then I'd stand up, and... well, there you go." She waved her tongs around as she talked, hot fat dripping from them here and there. Unlike Dox's mother, who would have had a fit over such a mess, Jason's mom apparently took it in stride.

Dox loved kidding around with her like this. Her quick wit made him feel comfortable around her, and once more, he found himself dropping his guard. He fought to keep it up, for one inopportune statement might cause her to change her mind about him. He had never been good at reading other people, and in the back of his mind he suspected that he might have a touch of Aspberger's syndrome. Staying quiet and keeping his own counsel was usually the best plan for him, but that was so darned hard to do around Billie Thomas. She was so friendly and open that she practically invited people to share their deepest innermost secrets with her.

"It smells great," Dox said, choosing a conversational topic that he knew was guaranteed to be safe. Seeing the oven on, he went over to check on the contents. "Oh, man! Biscuits, too? I could live on homemade biscuits, but Mom just pops them out of a can."

"Oh, that's not the same," Jason's mom protested, in the same tone that most mothers reserve for children who were being beaten with a rubber hose.

"She's a great cook," Jason broke in, "I stayed for dinner a couple of weeks ago, and everything she made was really good!"

Jason's mother looked up from the chicken she was frying and favored him with what he liked to call "the stink eye". "Was that on the day you said you were going over to Candy Applesn... Oh, heck," she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "I almost called her Candy Applesnatch. That's just plain rude. She can't help that her mother wasn't raised right. And who names their kid Candy Appleton, anyway? How cutesie is that?"

Realizing that she'd gone off track, she backed up and tried again. "You said you were going over to her house for dinner, but it turns out that her folks didn't know anything about that." She looked at him expectantly, with an expression on her face that said she was willing to wait all night, if it was necessary to do so.

Jason blushed. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice lowered as well, even though his dad wasn't home yet, and the house's only three occupants were together in the kitchen.

Dox thought it said something about the strength of Mr. Thomas's personality that even when he wasn't around, he was able to send conversation into whispers. Yet again, the thought of needing to converse with the man made Dox squirm uncomfortably.

"Honey," Jason's mother said, pulling the last of the frying chicken out of the pan and setting it on paper towels to drain, "I... hold on." She twisted the gas off at the stove and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel before trying again, this time facing him. "Honey, I don't ever want you to feel you have to tell me something that isn't true. If something like that comes up, you tell me and I'll run interference for you."

Turning to Dox, she apologized. "I'm sorry, I know this is family stuff and I shouldn't say it in front of company."

"That's okay," Dox and Jason spoke as one. The two looked at each other and shared a moment of private amusement. The expressions faded as they turned back to face Jason's mom, and that was when it clicked inside her head.

"Are y'all...you know...together?" she asked, her voice lowered almost to the point where they couldn't hear her. "''Cause that would explain a lot."

When both of them dropped their eyes to the pile of flour on the counter in front of Jason and neither one had a word to say, she had her answer. "Oh, come on, y'all," she said, and Dox thought he might have heard excitement in her voice, "that's not a bad thing! I watch Oprah, you know."

Dox tried to politely muffle his laughter, but he couldn't completely stifle it. He tried, Lord how he tried, but it came bursting out of him in quiet little huffs of air that refused to live inside him any longer. The tension broken, Jason found himself giggling as well, which degraded into a full-on belly laugh when he saw how red Dox's face was, even through his dark face fur.

"What?" Billie said, perplexed.

"Oh, Mom," Jason said, amusement finally abating to the point where he could talk in mostly complete sentences, "it's the Oprah thing, that's all."

"Don't laugh at me!" Billie protested. "She gives good advice!" Belying her stern tone, the quirks in the corners of her mouth showed that she shared in their mirth.

"I'm sorry," Dox said, apologetically. "It's a cultural thing." Wiping his eyes, he explained, "People used to run to their Bibles for help, and now they run to a large black woman in Chicago. And yes," he agreed, "she does give good advice."

"So do your parents know?" Billie asked.

"About us?" Dox asked, in return. When she nodded her head, he continued, "Yeah."

"Were they okay with it?"

Dox blew out a breath and raised his eyebrows. "Surprisingly enough, yeah, they were. They always knew I was gay, but Dad had a little harder time accepting it than Mom did. But I think he's happy that I'm not with some twinkle-toes, at least."

"They even came to my last football game." Jason interjected.

Dox rolled his eyes. "My mom just about had to sit on my dad to keep him from running onto the field and telling our coach how to do his job."

"Oh wow," Billie said, putting two and two together. She asked Jason, "So that's why you've been watching the ball game over at his house on Saturday afternoons, huh?"

"Well, yeah," Jason admitted, sounding a bit embarrassed. Their family had used to watch all the games together on Saturdays, but lately, it seemed like he'd been spending all his free time with Dox. It hadn't occurred to him until now that maybe his own family might be feeling neglected.

"Why don't y'all come over here this weekend?" Billie told her son, "We miss you." Then she amended, "At least, I do. If a game's on, the house could fall down around his ears and your dad wouldn't know it."

"True, that," Jason had to agree with her on that one.

Billie sweetened the pot. "I'll make snacks!"

Jason looked seriously conflicted. His mom was famous for her game-day snack food. "But they've got a sixty inch plasma!"

"My brownies trump a big TV." She said, bringing out the big guns.

Jason had to stop and consider this new offering that had been thrown on the table. Her brownies were legendary. He countered with a compromise. "So bring your brownies over to Dox's house?"

"Hmm," she considered, "not a bad plan, but your father still doesn't have a clue about you two, right?"

"Oh, shi... crap." Jason said, crestfallen, "I forgot about that."

"Are you gonna tell him?" Billie asked, dubiously.

"Do you think I should?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know!"

Billie sighed. "Gawd, Jason, I don't know..." She paused for a moment, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand and considering their options. "It's not like he's gonna go crazy and throw you out of the house. He's not a homophobe, or anything, it's just..." She sucked her teeth and sighed. "You know he's not real sophisticated, right?"

"Yeah, I know," said Jason, quietly. "You think he's gonna get mad?"

"It all depends on how you tell him, honey," she said, putting the salad together as she talked. "If you spring it on him when he's in a bad mood, it ain't gonna help. Maybe you should just lay low for a while and let him get used to having Dox around before you say anything?"

Dox raised his eyebrows, but his comment was cut short by the slamming screen door that signaled the return of Jason's dad.

"Honey!" Billie yelled, running to him.

"Hey, Sugar," he said, kissing her quickly before backing away. "I've been working outside all day long sweating my balls off, so don't get too close!" He followed her into the kitchen and noticed Dox sitting quietly at the kitchen counter and apologized. "I'm sorry, Dick. I probably shouldn't have said that in front of company."

"It's Dox, and don't worry about it. I've got a couple of them myself."

"Huh?"

"Balls." Dox said, and realized that in this case, explanation was futile. The comment made Billie chuckle, so at least it hadn't been completely wasted. "It's not important. It's good to see you again."

"Yeah, same here. Let me take a quick shower and I'll be back down in a minute." Giving his wife one last kiss on the cheek, Mr. Thomas disappeared down the hall.

"They're working him so hard," Mrs. Thomas said worriedly, washing her hands again before chopping vegetables for the salad. "I know we need the money, but it wears so hard on him."

"It's only going to be a few more years, and then I can start contributing," Jason said, a little guiltily. This was the part that he would have preferred Dox not hear. He knew that his boyfriend was a bit of a worrier, and there was no reason he should have to concern himself with Jason's family's problems as well as his own. And, Jason had to admit, he was also a little embarrassed that they were considered poor. That his parents would not let him have a part time job only made their own financial condition worse, and Jason's feelings of guilt grew by the day.

Dox started to reach out a hand to Jason's shoulder, then realized where they were sitting and quickly pulled it back, self conscious about the display of affection and support in front of Mrs. Thomas.

"Oh, go ahead, silly!" Billie said, seeing Dox's hesitation. "That's what you're there for, right?"

Dox smiled and gave Jason's shoulder a squeeze. Jason appreciated the sentiment, but it didn't ease his conscience. "Thanks," he said, favoring Dox with a weak grin of his own.

"I didn't mean to bring everybody down," Mrs. Thomas said. "Let's find something else to talk about!" She looked over at Dox and said, "Jason tells me you're really good with a camera."

"Yeah," Dox said, "I'm okay, I guess. But Jason's pretty good, too. He's got a natural eye for it. There are things that I couldn't do for months, that he just picked up on."

"I've got a good teacher," Jason said, lightly punching Dox's shoulder.

"You know what, Dox?" Billie said, refusing to be diverted. She blessed Dox with her undivided attention, and Dox was amazed at how much her gaze resembled his mother's when she was intent on knowing something. "I've been trying to learn more about you for two months now, and I've probably tried a dozen times to get you to talk about yourself. Every time I try, though, you manage to steer the conversation toward something else. "

Dox was stunned. "Do I really do that?" he asked. He'd never realized it.

"Yes," she confirmed, "you do. Why?"

"I don't know," Dox stammered, looking inside himself for an answer to her question. "I guess..." He stopped himself in his tracks. He wasn't about to admit the truth to her - that the world was a safer place for him if he didn't call attention to himself. That would just make him look like a weakling in her eyes. He settled on a different truth instead. "I guess I just think that other people are more interesting than I am."

"Well, let me tell you what," Billie said, slicing tomatoes so fast that Dox feared for the safety of her fingers, "you're every bit as interesting as anyone else out there, and probably a lot more than most! Jason also tells me that you're a genius. Is that true, too?"

Dox felt the tips of his ears go red with embarrassment. Self-promotion was definitely not his thing. But she had asked a direct question, and deserved a direct answer. He took a deep breath and admitted, "Yes," feeling his ears go down in shame.

Billie's knife had stopped its flashing, and she stood there looking at him with the strangest expression. "Why are you embarrassed about that? I'd think you'd be proud to be so smart."

"It's just not something I'm comfortable talking about." He was trying to get her off the subject, but she was not deterred in the slightest.

"Why does it make you uncomfortable, hon?" She sounded so sympathetic that, against his will, Dox felt his barriers dropping.

"It's like telling someone how rich you are, or how pretty," Dox explained, "No matter how you say it, it sounds like you're bragging."

"Oh," Billie said, thinking about it. "I guess I see your point." Then, "So me asking you if you were a genius is like me asking if you're rich, right?"

"Kinda, but it's not really your fault," Dox said, trying to take the blame from her. "It's just one of those questions people ask that there's no polite way to answer. There's nothing I can say that doesn't make me sound stuck up."

"Well," she said, conspiratorially, "still, isn't it kinda neat to be smarter than everyone else?"

"I do sort of like it," Dox admitted, "but it's not like I'm smart at everything. I'm mostly good at the sciences. I can't remember numbers like Jason can."

"That's right," Jason's father said, coming into the room with his towel in his hands and no shirt on his chest. "That boy can remember just about any football statistic from the last thirty years," he bragged. Wringing the corner of the towel into a point, he tried to wedge it into his ear and wiggle it around to absorb the last bit of water.

Dox tried to keep his eyes from popping out of their sockets. He had an idea that Mr. Thomas was in pretty good shape, but he had no idea that he'd be built like a Mack truck! He thought Jason's chest was thick, but he had nothing on his father.

"He's pretty amazing," Dox agreed, admiration evident in his voice. "He's been teaching me a lot about football, too. Before I met him I didn't even..."

"Who had the most yards gained by a freshman in 2005?" Jason's dad asked his son, interrupting Dox as if he weren't even there.

"Division 1 or 2?" Jason fired back, immediately falling into their old game without noticing the look of quiet hurt that had infected Dox's eyes.

"Division 2."

"Single game, or entire season?"

"Season," his dad said coyly, narrowing his eyes.

"Ted Schlafke, something around thirty six hundred." Jason said, apparently without having to think about it.

"Great job!" his dad laughed, clapping him on the back. "Amazing, isn't he?"

"Sure is." Dox said. His voice was pleasant, but even if the two morons she lived with didn't notice it, it was obvious to Billie that his shields had gone right back up, and more impenetrably than before. She hadn't thought about it until now, but seeing how Dox had shut down and withdrawn into himself made it clear how important it was to Dox that her husband accepted him.

Sighing in disappointment, she put the salad on the table and announced that dinner was ready. She'd really been looking forward to getting to know her son's friend better, but it looked like that would have to wait for another day. Still, she tried to keep the dinner conversation flowing. "We're glad you're helping Jason so much with his schoolwork, Dox. His grades have really improved since you've been tutoring him."

"Don't need grades if you're a good enough ball player, right?" Mr. Thomas said jovially, slapping Jason on the arm. He spoke, Dox noticed, around a mouth full of food. Unlike Jason, he didn't manage to carry that feat off with grace.

Jason looked sheepish, and for some reason he was refusing to meet Dox's eyes. "So you're interested in statistics, huh, Mr. Thomas?" Dox said, feeling like he was walking through a minefield. Hadn't Jason showed his father what they'd discovered about how much his grades would influence his getting a football scholarship?

"Unlike politicians, statistics don't lie," Mr. Thomas said, serving himself another big spoon full of green beans.

"Do you know what the statistics are on GPA and college ball scholarships?" Dox asked.

For the first time that evening, Dox had the feeling that Jason's father was actually paying attention to him. "I can't say that I do. Do you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Dox said, facing Mr. Thomas but staring at Jason, who still refused to look at him. "It turns out that up to a point, the higher your GPA, the better the chances of scoring a free ride through college. And if you want to get into the biggest schools, the ones with the best football programs that consistently have early NFL draft picks, it's even more critical to do well in the final two years of high school."

Turning to number 88, he asked, "Jason, you've got a memory for these things. What was the average GPA of incoming football freshmen for the top twenty NFL recruitment universities?"

Jason mumbled a number, but nobody at the table heard it.

"What was that, Jason?" his dad asked, heatedly.

"Three point two eight." Jason repeated, louder, and still not looking Dox in the eye.

"And what's your GPA right now," he demanded.

Jason sighed, and from the tone of his voice, it was clear that he'd rather be just about anyplace else than under his father's scrutiny right now. "Two eight five."

"So where does that leave us?"

Jason spread his hands, helplessly. "You're the genius, Dox, why don't you tell us?" His voice wasn't exactly unfriendly, but it wasn't happy either. If Dox had to guess, he'd say that Jason was frustrated. To tell the truth, Dox was annoyed with him as well. He'd gone through the trouble of spelling out Jason's exit strategy from the party scene, and he hadn't even talked to his dad about it? Why the heck not?

"It means," Dox said, "that, over the next two years, you need to have a GPA of around 3.71, almost a full grade higher than you're getting right now." Shifting his attention to Jason's father, he said, "That sounds bad, but it's not hopeless. I've been helping Jason since the first day of school, and so far he's doing really, really well. We're right on track for where we need to be"

Jason's dad looked angry and hurt, as if his son had somehow betrayed his trust. "You knew about this?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess," Jason said, dejectedly. "But I'm not ready to settle down just yet, pop," he practically whined. "I've got all year to get my grades up. I don't want to have to be stuck at home studying every single night of the week!"

"You can still have time off, son, but you've got to buckle down!" Mr. Thomas was trying his best to be understanding, but he felt like he was watching his son's football career get flushed down the commode. "Now isn't the time to listening to your hormones. We can't afford to send you through college by ourselves. We've got some saved up, but it's nowhere near enough for a full ride. If you don't get hooked by a major school, you're going to have to do most of it on your own."

Dox wanted to say something, but he saw that Mr. Thomas hadn't yet finished his lecture. And the way he was talking, it sounded like he was doing a damned good job of convincing himself of exactly what Dox wanted. "We're doing okay on what I bring in, but I want you to have a better life than we do," he said, "and the fastest way out of this town is on the coattails of the NFL. Or at least," he amended, grudgingly, "with a college degree."

Sighing deeply, he folded his hands on his lap. "I'm sorry, Jason, but that's all there is to it. You're going to have to cut back on the partying and keep that nose of yours stuck in a book!.

The way Jason was responding to the idea of giving up his wild and free lifestyle stung Dox. All this time, he'd believed that spending time with him was something that Jason had wanted to do. Dox felt foolish, thinking that he could compete with the wild and raucous parties that Jason was used to. He'd never really believed that Jason would be willing to give up that life, and here was his proof. "It hasn't been bad so far, has it?" Dox asked Jason, trying his best to sound encouraging instead of hurt.

"No," Jason said, "I guess not." But he didn't sound as if he believed it. Shoveling a last forkful of beans into his mouth and grabbing a breast from the pile of fried chicken on the table, he stood up and excused himself. "I'm sorry, I'm not really hungry. I'll be in my room." He stalked to the back of the house, leaving Dox sitting at the table with his parents, where the silence between them stretched out uncomfortably.

"Why don't you go talk to him?" his mother suggested to Dox, "Maybe you can make him feel better."

Dox was happy to escape the dinner table, but he dreaded what Jason would say to him. How long could they possibly last if his boyfriend found his company boring? Dox slowly walked back to Jason's room, the sound of parents deep in serious conversation fading behind him. He paused a moment before knocking on Jason's bedroom door, giving himself a few seconds to quiet the turmoil eating away at his self-confidence.

The voice behind the door that answered his knock sounded depressed and weary. "Yeah?"

Peeking inside, Dox saw Jason sitting morosely on the corner of his bed. Looking up, Jason saw that it was him and quickly motioned him in.

Jason got off the bed and walked over to him. "Did they come with you?" he whispered, excitement tinging his voice as Dox closed the door behind him.

"No," Dox said, confused, "But I thought..."

Jason grabbed him and spun them around in a tight circle before pulling them down on the bed. They landed in a happy heap, Jason smothering his laughter in the fur of Dox's chest. "Oh, puppy, that was great!" he said, his smile lighting up Dox's very confused heart. "You played your part perfectly!"

"What part?" Dox asked, his head whirling. He was happy that Jason was so pleased, but... what had just happened?

"I'm sorry, pup, I couldn't really tell you what I was planning. But I knew you'd come to my defense, and as smart as you are, I knew you'd say the right thing to get through to my dad."

"You planned this?" Dox was incensed. He punched Jason on the chest, and it was only half in play. "You scared me!"

"I told you I was good at strategy," Jason replied, smugly, pulling Dox back into a big bearhug. "I'm sorry," he repeated, rocking them back and forth, "but it's all over now, and my dad has it in his head that I have to study more. And who's going to be my tutor?" he asked, looking at Dox expectantly.

"Me!" Dox said, catching on. "So you acted all mad that you were going to have to stop sleeping around so that your dad would push you further in that direction!"

"And again, who's the only person I want to be sleeping around with?" Jason said, his eyes full of affection.

Timidly, Dox said, "Me?"

"No," Jason corrected. "Say it again."

"Me." Dox said, positively.

"Exactly!" The smile on his face was smugly triumphant. "I'm a fucking genius, if I do say so myself."

Dox beamed at him. "You are pretty smart," he agreed. "We make a great pair, you and me."

"I know," Jason said, nuzzling the top of his head.

Dox looked up into Jason's face and tenderly licked his nose. "I love you, you know."

"I love you too, puppy," Jason said, rubbing his muzzle against Dox's, "I love you too."

They stood there for a while, rocking gently back and forth as one, enjoying the quiet time together. Jason gave Dox a squeeze and then pulled his head back a bit. "Puppy?"

"Yeah?" Dox said, craning his neck upwards. Although he hated to break the moment, he was glad he did it when he looked into Jason's face What he saw there was kind and gentle, at odds with his muscular body and aggressive looks.

"The other guys on the team are talking about who they're going to take to the homecoming dance this year," he said, throwing the idea out on the table without actually making a suggestion.

"Wow," Dox said, "that's a big step." Even though Homecoming wasn't as big an event as the Prom, it was still one that most people brought a date to.

"Yeah," Jason agreed. He was quiet for a moment before saying, "I want to go."

Dox nodded his head, but said nothing for a moment. Then, innocently, "Who did you want to take?"

Jason thought about it for a second, then said, "I was thinking about asking Elma Cheevers, if she's still available. She's quite popular among the football players, these days, especially the fatter ones.

Dox pinched him in the side, and made Jason squirm and laugh. "You, silly!"

"Okay," Dox said, nuzzling into Jason's warm chest fur, his world right-side-up again. "I think that sounds nice."