Crutches

Story by Gruffy on SoFurry

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#18 of Hockey Hunk Season 3

It's time to step out and face the real world once more...how will Rory fare?



Hehhey, everyone!

The HH super week might be behind us, but the story goes on, and this time with an extra-length chapter, so there's still definitely a lot of fun HH action for everyone! *chuckle* I'm so glad you were in for the ride last week, and I hope you'll have fun time in the future as well!

Remember to keep the comments coming! They're the best gauge of the quality of my work, and each and every one of them is personally appreciated. Also remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories as well.

Have a fun read now!

G





*



"Could you take a couple more steps, please? I want to look at it one more time to make sure that your technique is correct."

I stared at the red stripe that ran across the floor of the examination room, going all the way towards the wall that held a chart of comparative anatomy, or so it seemed, if I was to judge that from the number of different skulls and crossbones present.

"Sure," I rumbled.

I swung my forearm crutches and my poor leg forward simultaneously, as I had been told, so that the weight would remain on my arms and not on my leg, for the brief time it took for my left leg to hurry up and stand alongside my new tripod ambulatory system. I had to keep my tail from swaying around too much, because it was hampering my balance. I seemed to be a bit wobbly on my legs to begin with, after two weeks of not really doing much walking or even standing up, and I was more than glad for the support of the crutches in that respect as well.

"You're doing great, Rory!"

Peter was sitting on the edge of the examination bed off to the side, and I'm sure he was watching me as carefully as the tiger doctor who remained behind me, keeping an eye on me in an attempt to determine whether yours truly would be once again fit to be released to mingle with the general population.

What an interesting job must've it been, that of a trauma surgeon. Even now his business consisted of watching my ass swing from side to side with my extra careful gait. I wondered briefly whether he could appreciate the sight of such a nice lion butt, breathed out, and took the next step. The little plastic paws on the ends of the crutches squeaked on the sterile grey floor.

"Hmm..." I heard the doctor rumble.

I took another step. There was only room for maybe two more before I'd be crashing at the wall.

"Good...you balance your shoulders right...yes...and your tail should get used to it very soon as well...yes...one more step, please..."

I repeated my new favorite activity once more, and then stood still, careful to keep my weight on my left footpaw and the crutches. My right leg didn't feel so bad all told, but it was very stiff. I didn't really mind. To actually be walking properly again was the only thing that mattered now - and with a doctor's approval, even!

I turned around carefully and faced my audience of two, the doctor in his white coat and dark blue scrubs, and Peter, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at me. I was sure that he was smirking under that surgical mask of his that covered his muzzle from the view. His tailtip flicked around pleasantly between his outstretched footpaws.

"Well that was good," Doctor Logan said. "And there is no discomfort with your paw?"

I shook my head and squeezed the handle of the crutch with my right paw, to show that I could curl my fingers without trouble. The once broken fingers still had firm bandages on them, but I could at least move them now, and didn't need a whole-paw splint to keep it comfortable.

"Not at all," I said.

"You may sit down now," the tiger nodded.

I returned the nod and made my slow way over to the bed, and then sat myself onto the edge next to Peter, rather than to the chair that had been offered to me, because I was sure that it would easier for me to get going from this higher position. The doctor went over to the desk and planted himself behind his flat computer screen. Peter winked at me in greeting.

"Very well then, Mr. Gliese...the review of your case is looking better and better..." Dr. Logan mused while he studied the flush of information on his computer. "Your new films show that the femur is securely in the acetabulum and the ligaments have healed properly. There is no misplacement and it appears that your traumatic hip dislocation is healing well. No signs of avascular necrosis or scarification were present and the neurological evaluation showed no sciatic nerve damage."

My ears flicked in disbelief at this...explanation, but I decided to acknowledge it with a simple nod.

"Does that mean everything is alright?" Peter worded the question for me.

The doctor nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh yes," Dr. Logan said, "It was a challenging case, but the successful reduction was performed very quickly and there was no time for long-lasting damage to happen in the leg. You were quite lucky, Mr. Gliese."

"Thank you for that, Doctor," I nodded, well aware that I was in debt with the very particular doctor tiger when it came to my ability to walk normally still.

"We will of course arrange for some physiotherapy where you will be re-evaluated and shown a few exercises you may perform to further strengthen the muscles and the ligaments to ensure that there won't be a prolapse," the doctor continued, "but in your case, that would be highly improbable. You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Gliese, as long as you keep using the crutches for some weeks to ensure atraumatic exercise of the leg."

"Anything to keep walking," I rumbled solemnly.

Peter patted my shoulder gently, and I smiled to him, quickly, before the doctor carried on.

"As for the rest of your examination...everything seems to be quite in order," Dr. Logan said. "Your fractured fingers have healed properly and exhibit only minor discomfort and no limitations of mobility, and should be back to normal within a couple of weeks. You had no neurological deficiencies on the standard post-concussion test and your history tells of no neurological incidents during your recovery, so I may say that that is in order as well."

Well wasn't that nice to hear? My brain hadn't been reduced into a mush in the car crash. How nice.

"And there have also been no indications of hematouria or any other genitourinary complaints, which rules out any persisting injury there."

I was pretty sure that I would have noticed if I had been pissing blood, but it was still good to hear the doctor say that aloud. I didn't want any trouble to befall on Rory Junior, after all.

"I would say that you require follow-up in six weeks, Mr. Gliese," the doctor declared from his seated position behind the computer, "then we will reevaluate the condition of your hip and see if further physiotherapy or follow-up will be needed."

"Alright," I said as I took the information, "And when can I go back to work?"

The doctor's eyes scanned the screen.

"Hmm...you work as a...shop assistant?"

"Yeah," I rumbled upon hearing my defeating...title.

Dr. Logan thrummed the tabletop with his fingertips.

"You are completely fit for non-strenuous work, but you are not allowed heavy lifting for at least six more weeks." Dr. Logan replied. "You should avoid any undue stress on the hip."

"I see," I nodded.

"All in all, you have recovered well, and I would not expect any longer-lasting complications," the Doctor mused, "you have been very lucky, Mr. Gliese."

"I suppose I should feel like that, yes," I said.

The doctor nodded once more, and looked at the two of us sitting there.

"And how about your living arrangements?" the Doctor said. "I understand you live alone. It would be prudent for you to have someone to help you in everyday life, such as carrying shopping bags, which is something you should not do yet."

I gave Peter a quick look before I spoke on.

"I stayed with my parents for a while," I replied, "I came back to town yesterday and I am now staying with my friend Peter here."

Peter nodded, as if to draw attention to himself, and cleared his throat.

"And I work from home, so if Rory needs any help, I'm always around," Peter murmured. "And my apartment is fitted for easy access to those with limited mobility, so it should be alright, I think."

The doctor's ears flicked amiably.

"Well, that is most useful," Dr. Logan said. "It will be a great help to you, Mr. Gliese."

"Yeah, I feel like that too," I replied.

"Excellent!" the doctor exclaimed. "And of course if you have any further complaints, you should contact the outpatient service here, and they will give you any advice you might need. And I presume you do not require a new prescription to your medication?"

I nodded quickly.

"I don't need any more drugs," I said, "it's fine, and I don't want to be popping pills for nothing."

"For any greater discomfort, you should contact the hospital, but for more minor pain, you may use acetaminophen for short term pain control. If pain persists for more than three days, you should also contact the hospital," the doctor explained.

Peter patted my shoulder.

"We better get some Tylenol, then," the cougar rumbled. "I don't have anything at home because I'm not supposed to take any of that stuff."

"Do you have any further questions, Mr. Gliese?" the doctor inquired.

"I think I'm alright for now," I replied. "Thank you."

The doctor left his precious computer and then walked over to us sitting there, and extended his paw. I put my crutch down carefully and returned the polite gesture with a small smile and a nod.

"Best of luck to you, Mr. Gliese," the doctor said, "Enjoy your summer."

"Thank you," I snuffled.

*

We sat on a wooden bench outside the hospital, one conveniently placed near the hospital bus stop that seemed to serve as the general drop-off spot for furs coming in and who would also come there to be picked up. Peter had already called the cab, so it was probably only a matter of minutes before we would be well on our way.

I snuffled at the smell of cigarette smoke that entered my nose. I looked to my side and saw that about 10 feet away a middle-aged wolf stood, clad in a thick blue bathrobe and smoking what must have been a very illicit cigarette. He had a plastic hospital bracelet on the very same paw that held the cigarette up to his muzzle. I winced a little and turned my head away from the sight.

"Typical," Peter snorted.

My ears perked as I looked over to him.

"Yeah?" I mused.

Peter grinned.

"One of us gets rid of the crutches and then another needs them," he huffed.

I snuffled.

"You haven't needed them for weeks," I noted. "Your ankle's fine."

Peter extended his leg and rolled his ankle from side to side, as if he was pretending to be a ballet dancer in the middle of an amazing dance move. I chuckled a little at the thought.

"Perhaps it is," he rumbled. "But you're the patient now, and I better put all my effort into keeping you walking."

I shrugged.

"You don't have to really do anything," I said, "The fact that I can stay with you is more than I could ask. Thank you."

Peter smirked.

"Anything for a fellow invalid," he replied. "And I might say, we don't come much better-looking than our present company, eh?"

I shook my head a little at his outrageous remark and patted Peter's legs with my tail. The cougar slapped my tail with his own thick appendage, and kept on smirking.

"Really now?" I rumbled.

"Uh huh," Peter said. "We're a couple of sexy beasts."

"Are we now?" I chuffed.

"Oh yes," Peter said, "I can barely keep my paws off you even now."

I wondered briefly whether the wolf nearby could hear any of what we were saying, but I wasn't going to risk glimpsing over to the side to see what was happening there. I elbowed Peter instead, and grumbled.

"Don't put me into temptation, Peter" I snuffled. "You know what my life's been lately, I don't need any extra baggage."

Peter winked.

"The last time I checked, thought crime wasn't in the books yet," he smirked.

"Huh?" I quirked a brow at him.

Peter shrugged and let his tail flap against my knee.

"The fact is, your Victor could be pretty damn hypocritical if he'd get pissed off at you for lusting after my great ass...if you don't succumb to the temptation, that is," the cougar purred.

My eyes widened a little upon hearing the rough explanation behind Peter's even rougher humor. I wasn't so sure whether I was feeling particularly amused by it, either. I had spent a great deal of last evening after I arrived to Peter's place in pouring out my heart and my feelings about Victor to Peter, and the cougar had listened, and nodded, and listened some more, and offered very little advice, but he had promised to be there. That had been good enough for me, and I was grateful for that as well, even if I was still damn confused and didn't really have a proper idea about how I could sort out my business with Victor...and with Colin, too, and everyone else I had tangled into this mess as of lately.

"I think he's already pissed off enough," I snorted.

Peter flicked his ears at me and shook his own head.

"I guess he has the right to be, to a degree, but the man sure knows how to hold a grudge," the cougar mused.

How nice of Peter to put it like that. It certainly wasn't helping the sinking feeling in my stomach. I coiled my tail around my legs for comfort and rumbled.

"I'll find a proper way to apologize," I said, repeating my words from last night, of course, but there was little else I could say, "sort things out and try to make up for it."

Peter chuffed.

"There's no such a thing as making up for things, Rowreeh," the cougar mused.

I gave him a curious look.

"Huh?"

"What's the point?" Peter shrugged. "You do something fucking stupid and make someone feel bad, and if they're selfish enough to demand reparations, or at least make you feel like you need to do something even if they don't really want anything except watch you squirm like a worm in a hook, I suppose they're not really serious about anything."

I grunted a little to myself and let out a deep breath. Peter sure knew how to make it sound all very serious...with perfect sense to it, of course, there was no denying that he was speaking the right thing even now, like he most often did, but the picture it painted of Victor's and my own respective behavior...it wasn't very nice. Not good at all, in fact. I sure as hell was squirming, really, a day after day I mulled about all the stupid things I had done and how I might make up for them...but wasn't Peter right about that as well? Had Victor even asked me to make up for it? Wasn't apology enough? I had said sorry plenty of times by now, and he had said that he hoped I meant it. So how could I even make it more meaningful, other than telling him than I was really, really, really, REALLY sorry about the fact that I had been a stupid, blind asshole?

What a stupid, pathetic mess.

"Hmm, I think our cab is coming up there," Peter said, "we better get ready."

I grabbed my crutches and began the precarious process of getting up to my footpaws again from a seated posture. Peter helped, of course, by a careful tug over my arm, and soon I was up and running, with my crutches at ready and my weight carefully kept in check.

"I don't know about you, Rory, but I'm hungry," Peter grinned as we waited for the cab to make the final stretch, "I think I'll start on some lunch once we get back home."

I flicked my ears in reply, and then blurted out something I had had in mind for some time now, well...at least since the doctor tiger had said something in the exam room, during my check-up.

"Peter, could we visit The Albrecht Brothers first?" I said, watching him carefully for the reaction.

Peter's ears flicked sharply, and so did his tail, and I was sure I saw one of his paws clench into a fist, but then he nodded quickly.

"If you like," he rumbled. "But you know I won't probably be able to come in, don't you?"

My own ears drooped guiltily.

"Uhh..." I mumbled.

"Never mind," Peter said just as the cab started to come to a halt, "We can drop you off there and I'll go ahead and you can take a cab over to my place when you want to."

"You sure?" I frowned.

The cab window rolled down.

"Cab for a Peter Sinclair?" a bear's voice rumbled out of the vehicle.

"That's me!" Peter waved a paw.

"You guys need any help?" the bear seemed to notice my crutches, too.

"We're fine, thank you!" I called back.

Peter opened the car door.

"Come on right in then," the cougar murmured. "Let's get out of this hellhole."

It took a certain amount of negotiation to fit me onto the back seat without stabbing anyone with my crutches, but soon they were nicely located between my spread knees, and we were ready to go.

"To the corner of Lewis Boulevard, then, if you may," Peter commanded the cab bear.

The engine hummed as we got on our way. I gave Peter a worried look.

"Are you sure it's fine?" I said, still wanting to be absolutely certain that I hadn't accidentally made Peter feel bad by choosing an activity that might close him out of the...fun.

Peter shrugged.

"Of course it's fine," he said. "I don't want to go in there. The books are too good in holding bacteria from all the furs who fondle them, and then there's that old book section of yours which is bound to be packed with fungi. And I won't be able to take care of you if I have PCP pneumonia because I opened a book someone had coughed at in your bookstore."

I could see the cab driver give us a look via the rear view mirror. I kept my eyes on Peter, rather.

"Well if you're sure..." I rumbled.

Peter elbowed me.

"Absolutely sure," he said with a little smile. "I'll just go home and get busy with lunch. I've got some nice crisp chicken in the freezer."

I nodded quietly.

"Ok," I breathed.

"You can make up for it with your charming company later on," Peter winked.

I snuffled.

"What did we speak about making up for things?" I grumbled.

Peter licked his lips.

"Exceptions prove the rule."

I made a bit of a pouty face, which was much to Peter's amusement, since he then chuckled heartily.

"That almost made up for it already."

I snuffled.

"You don't ask for much, I see."

Peter shrugged.

"I've very small pleasures left in life, I might as well take everything I can," the cougar replied.

His smile could have melted ice.

*

The cab stopped at the end of Lewis Boulevard. It was pretty much the closest it could approach to the Albrecht Brothers to begin with, considering that the bookstore was located to the extreme edge of the pretentious Promenade Quarter at the centre of downtown Kirk City. Peter helped me get out of the cab and with my crutches, and told me that he'd pay the fare, and told me to call back on him when I would be leaving so that he'd know when to begin some sort of a time-critical phase in his cooking, as he said to me.

I waved him goodbye and then took a deep breath and let myself relax in the middle of the clatter of traffic and downtown bustle.

I began to walk, and wondered at how...odd it felt. I had done the same journey hundreds of times, this little walk from where my usual bus stop was to the shop, but still...it felt somewhat peculiar. And it hadn't been such a long time...a few weeks, sure, but it wasn't like I had been gone for good!

I was glad for the plastic paws on the ends of my crutches. The polished flagstones felt almost slippery, which was on its own a somewhat new sensation for me. I was walking extra carefully to begin with, and I suppose that just like I was doing with the doctor, I was overcompensating now as well, and making sure that every step was neigh on perfect. Even though it couldn't have been more than two hundred yards, I was starting to feel a bit tired after maybe two thirds of the way were gone.

I was almost seriously considering having a quick break on the stone bench in front of Atelier Marcus, but then I reminded myself that I was here to enjoy my new freedom and to try and make some steps into getting back into my normal life, and that didn't involve giving up at the very first moment of trouble.

I grumbled in a rather manly manner and put my sticks forward followed by my legs. I could make it, I decided, it was only...what...30 yards left? I could see the cozy shop front already, of course I did, complete with the display windows and the inviting "OPEN" sign on the door above the opening hours painted on it. I bit my teeth together and let it swing all the way in.

I couldn't help but smile at the sight of the loud red letters on the paw-written sign on the window. I instantly recognized it as something of Marge's doing, without a hitch.

THE ALBRECHT BROTHERS SUMMER BUST!

MAKE GREAT FINDS FOR THOSE RAINY LAZY DAYS

NOW UP TO 70% OFF ON

THE HUNGER GAMES

NORA ROBERTS

WEIGHT LOSS MANUALS

MILLENNIUM TRILOGY

DEAN KOONTZ

ADALMINA WOOLSWORTH

DON'T FORGET TO TAKE PART

IN SPECIAL LOTTERY TO WIN

1,000 $ GIFT CERTIFICATE!

I gave the curled letters another smirk-enhanced look before I hobbled over to the door and let myself in to the mysterious world of the downtown book retail establishment that I called my workplace.

"RORY!!!!!!"

It was inevitable, I suppose, but the first thing that greeted me was a loud yelp and a call from the broadly smiling mare behind the counter. Seeing her perked ears and her toothy grin put a smile on my face, too, and almost distracted me from....

"My, my, my!"

It wasn't Crystal who got to me first, but the bouncy, spring-legged menace of a black Lab who immediately deserted his post behind cash register number one and rushed towards me, trailed by the red-clad girl. I could hear the slap of Alex's whip-like tail going against his taut ass cheeks. My neck furs spiked automatically even before the rush of his over-applied deodorant stuffed my nose full.

"Rory, my man!" the Lab stopped only inches away from me, and almost collided with my left crutch.

"Alex," I rumbled.

The Lab patted my shoulder quickly and then simply stood there, arms folded over his chest while he looked over me with critical eyes.

"Have you put on some weight, Rory?"

Crystal was still smiling by the time she reached me and gave my nearest arm a gentle hug.

"Hey, Rory!" the mare beamed. "We've missed you so much! Are you coming back to work already?"

"I hope you've been eating enough calcium and iron, Rory, they're really important when recovering from an injury," Alex budged in. "And all those fat soluble vitamins and cranberry juice..."

Crystal nickered and swished her tail.

"We've been so worried!"

I smiled a little.

"Well as you can see, I'm back to my paws," I said and patted the handles of my crutches with my thumbs. "Still a bit stiff, but I'll be back to normal, the doctor told me today, even."

Crystal clapped her hands together and smiled.

"That's great!"

"I don't know when I'll be coming back to work, though,"I continued, "But I don't think it's much longer anymore."

"Don't you worry," Alex rumbled confidently, "we've barely even noticed that you're gone here, haven't we, Crystal?"

He was so intent looking at me that he didn't notice how Crystal rolled her eyes.

"Well we sure have missed Rory, and I'm sure all your co-workers are missing you at the Stepford Center," Crystal replied.

Alex's tail didn't stop wagging.

"Oh I could not leave everyone here in trouble," the Lab grinned, "I must be where I am needed the most, and if that is here..."

"HEY!"

A sudden shrill call made everyone's eyes jump, the various customers included, who were quick to spot the tan-colored cat who had just appeared from the downstairs section and was now making her busty way in my direction.

"Look who's here!" Crystal declared.

Marge's ears flicked back aerodynamically while she walked pneumatically across the shop floor.

"Well I'm definitely seeing someone right here!" the cougar called from 15 yards away.

"Hey sweetie!" I replied, a broad smile on my face.

"Well hello stranger!" Marge hollered.

She reached me within seconds and budged Alex out of the way so that she could get onto me and not only place an arm over my shoulders but also to plant a peck on my cheek. I could feel her purr as much as I heard it, and it made my ears flick up and down eagerly.

"Hey," I whispered in a voice suitable for such close quarters.

"Well hello," Marge grinned. "Welcome back, studmuffin."

"Thanks," I murmured.

"Hey!" Marge called, her head suddenly perking up. "Come on and say hi to Rory!"

I turned my eyes from those of the eagerly tail-wagging Alex to where Marge was looking at, and saw the shaggy-furred form of Mason, who had just come up the stairs to the main floor.

*

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