FSE

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*

Peter clicked his tongue.

"Yes and no," he said, "Dennis doesn't cook, for example. He's been known to burn water, if let loose."

"That's hardly a major daddy deficiency," I mused.

"He never changed my diapers."

I chuckled roughly.

"Weren't you like...ten when your mom and Dennis got married?" I queried with a sufficiently outraged face. "He never would've needed to!"

Peter snuffled.

"It's the thought that counts," he said, "I'm not sure if Dennis would have been ready to do the messy work, should he have needed to."

"What's that got to do with being a good dad?" I asked.

Peter waved his fork.

"It's got everything to do with it," he said, "and that's why your dad is the superdad. He's always ready to do a great deal for you, and always has."

"So has your dad, and Dennis," I said.

"It's still different," Peter shrugged. "I don't know if dad would've been an everyday superdad, should he have stayed."

I cleared my palate with a good sip of water and then made my case.

"Well doesn't giving his kidney to that girl from Oregon so that the girl's mother would give hers to you count as superdad behavior?" I asked.

"Of course it is," Peter retorted, "but not everyday superdadness, and that's where my dad and Dennis and your dad come to differ."

"What do you mean?"

Peter thrummed the tabletop with his padded fingertips.

"Because I didn't live with dad," Peter said, "and that means that the every other weekend I spent with him had to be devoted to being a superdad. I've no idea how dad would've reacted to stuff like...say....how Dennis caught me making out with Nick Preston, or...or...told me the facts of life or told me that I couldn't have that candy or an extra piece of cake because it might rot my teeth...hmmm...and yeah, I don't know what it'd been like if dad had fixed a flat tire on my bike. I never had a bike at dad's place, you see. But your dad must've done all that to you."

I nodded, after a considerate pause.

"He has," I replied, "except the catching making out part...well...uhm...well, he has done that, too, you know, but...yeah..."

Peter snuffled.

"Well that's where the real superdad behavior begins, not in the number of amusement parks, museums and toy stores you visit, or the amount of computer games you buy for your weekend kid, much to the envy of your own kids."

"I'm sure he's been a good everyday dad to Aiden and Addison," I proposed, "and spoiled them rotten when you weren't around, to compensate."

"Oh, I've no doubt," Peter said.

I weighed my fork in my paw and wondered whether to take a bite first before speaking, or vice versa, and finally decided on speaking first, eating next.

"I guess it's different with two families," I said, and allowed myself the distraction of the sauce-laced rice.

"I only have one family," Peter said, "Mom and Dennis are my family. Dad's my dad, and Hillary, Aiden and Addison are dad's other family. They don't have to have much of an opinion of me...and I don't really have much to say about them either. We don't socialize, you know that. Never saw much need to, either...considering the age difference and all. They're college kids now, with their own lives in Pittsburg and Boston. I don't have much to say to them."

"Well I can understand that," I said easily once my maw was empty, "thinking of me and Justin..."

"That's different," Peter said quickly. "You lived together, and you love each other. That's a whole different level of family. Just like I love Ray, and he's definitely my family, and without a question my brother, even if Dennis is his dad...which I can't say about Aiden, who definitely is not my brother, even though dad is his dad."

"I think I get the picture," I said. "Kinda."

Peter took a sip of his water.

"A bit like your Victor and his brother," he rumbled," joined at the hip it seems. That's what brothers can be like."

My tail jolted along to the jolt of sensation in my belly that was the effect of Peter mentioning the Dobie duo...but of course, especially the mention of the one who was the elder one by 10 minutes...Victor Terrence Holden. It came so...suddenly, I suppose, Peter talking about Victor so casually despite the heap of problems I had caused between me and the Dobie, and I guess that's why I reacted so strongly. I know I stopped eating, chewing, even, and looked at him as if he'd said something especially outrageous, but I saw no ire or jab in the eyes of the cougar sitting opposite to me. Only amusement, more like.

"Yeah," I huffed, "Joined at the umbilical cord more like."

I went for my own water while Peter chuckled out at my remark, and I smiled, too, with wet, mildly amused lips. Peter patted his own muzzle with a folded paper napkin that mercifully did not stink like rubbing alcohol.

"I've barely ever seen a grown man cry so much in such a short period of time, "Peter mused once he as done. "Well, maybe some gay guys when Sex and the City was cancelled, but that probably doesn't count."

I chuckled and shook my head mildly at the sentiment.

"That's Cobb alright," I rumbled, "though he's as straight as a fireman's pole, though."

Peter almost barked with joy.

"HA!" he said. "So you're saying that everyone wants to rub their groins suggestively all over him...hmm..."

My eyes widened.

"Now that's just wrong," I snuffled.

Peter beamed.

"Oh yes..."

I took a deep breath and let it flow out of my lungs in a deep huff. I couldn't help but smile, though. Peter's wit was ruthless and funny, and often inflicted at times that were...borderline acceptable, I'd say.

"You're right though," I said once it was appropriate to speak after the punch line, "they're great together. Really great, even if...if Victor probably wouldn't be so easy to admit it aloud, especially to Cobb."

"That's how they seemed to me," Peter said.

"Yeah," I breathed.

I decided to make myself decisively busy with the meal for now, and did as much, and scooped more chicken and rice into my muzzle. It was easy enough to get lost in it, the flavors and the texture of individual grains of rice rolling over my tongue, which now tickled under the onslaught of spices. My nose was full of it, too.

I'm not sure how long it took before Peter spoke.

"What do you want to do?"

My eyes hopped from an attractive sliver of the well-cooked chicken and up to the curious eyes of the tan-shaded cougar sitting in front of me.

"Hmmm?" I swallowed.

Peter started to make an annoying sound by clicking his fork against the side of his plate.

Click...click...click.

"What do you want to do next in this whole business of saying sorry and not getting through to him?" Peter stated.

Hearing it spoken aloud like that made it sound almost worse.

My ears dropped.

"I don't know," I said.

"Why?"

I shrugged.

Click...click...click.

"I just don't," I said. "I've told him sorry so many times and he still won't take it."

"Maybe he wants a gesture," Peter mused.

"Huh?" I stared at him.

Peter continued the clinking-clanking sound on the plate, and caused my left ear to start to jump in rhythm to its slow beat.

"Maybe he's the kind of guy who expects you to do something for him," Peter said.

"I can't do anything except apologize and I already did," I replied, with rising passion in my voice, "and I tried to explain to him that nothing happened between Colin and I and that I just want..."

I swallowed, my air gone.

"I want Victor and I to have a chance," I said, "nothing more."

"So tell him that," Peter said.

"I have tried to!" I yelped.

Click...click...click...

"So try again," Peter said, "write it with colored smoke on the skies if you have to, but just tell it to him."

"What if it's not enough?" I rumbled.

"Smoke letters on the sky should be enough."

I snorted.

"I didn't mean that," I growled. "I mean...just saying it."

"Then he's probably not worth it," Peter mused. "If he can't see beyond his own displeasure at the situation and see what you're feeling."

"I know what I feel," I said, "total crap."

"Did you tell him that?"

"Of course I did," I said, "many times! And he must've seen it too...back...back then."

When Peter pushed me out of the room while I was crying. The idea still made my stomach feel cold.

"Maybe he needs to see it again, then," Peter flicked an ear at me.

Click...click...CLICK.

I scowled.

"See what?" I rumbled. "Me going into total pieces?"

"Who knows?" Peter shrugged. "Maybe he wants to see for sure that you can experience that much mental anguish over what you did."

"If he'd want to see that, it'd be...perverted!" I snapped.

"We aren't perfect," Peter replied without raising his own voice. "Sometimes we take selfish pleasure watching others squirm."

"I am already squirming!" my tail smacked the floor loudly.

Peter put his fork down over a fresh paper napkin, finally ending the noise. My ears flicked with relief. I almost sighed.

"Well now you are here in town, so maybe you could go and squirm on his face and see if that helps."

I cleared my throat so loudly that it sounded like a deep grunt.

"Weren't you saying just today that it's not worth it if he demands anything except an apology?" I rumbled.

Peter nodded.

"I did say that," he replied, "But we both know that life's not that simple."

I snorted.

"Woo hoo for that revelation!" I yapped. "Did you go to college to find that out?"

"There's no need to be mean, Rory."

I sighed.

"Sorry."

"It's your decision," Peter replied, "on how much shit you're willing to take."

I tensed.

"I don't want any shit to anyone," I snapped.

"I'm sure Victor doesn't either," Peter replied, "but something's holding him back, and before you find out what, you have to be ready to face some shit."

The furs on the back of my neck bristled, but I sat still, and took it like a man.

"I know," I murmured.

"So go see him," Peter said. "He answers your calls, doesn't he? So phone him up and tell him that you want to meet and talk things through."

I sighed.

"I don't know if he wants to meet me right now."

"Have you asked?"

I shook my head.

"So ask," Peter shrugged. "And if he says 'fuck off', then you'll try again at some other point."

I snorted.

"It's not that simple," I said.

"It's simple enough."

"No," I rubbed my paw over my face, in a small act of self-grooming which I hoped would have made me feel a bit more better than it eventually did.

"Go on then."

I sighed.

"I'm not sure I can just walk in there to talk with him," I began.

"Why not?"

"Well you know," I said, "Cobb's staying with him. Taking care of him. You can't really have a private conversation when he's around. It'd be a disaster!"

"So get him out for the time."

"I don't know if even Victor knows how to," my ears went flat when I said that. "He's pretty fucking persistent when it comes to his brother and me."

Peter snuffled.

"And he doesn't know about your argument?"

I shook my head.

"Victor says it'd crush Cobb's faith in gay relationships and he would make Victor's life a living hell by constant nagging about how you can't trust gay men to stay faithful," I replied. "Apparently Victor's got some experience of that already and that's why he doesn't have the nerve to involve Cobb."

"You see then!" Peter's voice rose with excitement. "He must be stewing in misery over it, unable to tell anyone about it. He can't confide in anyone except you, and you're the source of the trouble, so what else would be more logical than for you to just go there and talk things through?"

I frowned.

"You almost sound happy that he's feeling miserable," I noted.

Peter snuffled.

"I don't," he said, "but it would make things a lot easier on you if he is."

"It's not easy," I complained.

"Why not?"

"I just told you why it's difficult," I said.

"Humph," Peter harrumphed.

"So maybe you should try to get Victor to come to you instead. Meet at some public place if you have to...well, preferably somewhere private of course, but...whatever makes him happy. Cut him some slack."

"I don't even know if he can leave the apartment," I snuffled. "Let alone leave without...Nurse Cobb."

Peter frowned a little.

"How is his recovery getting along, then?"

I shrugged.

"I don't know," I said, "He did say he was on the mend but..."

"So then he probably is," Peter mused.

"But what if he can't leave the apartment? What if he's too tired or..."

Peter snapped his fingers.

"Or you're making excuses for not seeing him face to face."

I snorted.

"I'm not making excuses, I'm just trying to...," I tugged on my ear as I muttered, "...uhh...think of all the variables."

"There are only three, as far as I can tell," Peter said, "Your indecisiveness, Victor's pig-headedness and Cobb's...hmm..."

"Cobbness," I supplied.

Peter tipped his head to the side in acknowledgement and salute.

"Thank you," he said, "and we can most easily start working on the first one."

I snuffled.

"I do want to fix things between us, I really do," I breathed out. "I don't want this to end miserably...and even if it's to end, I want it to be properly, and not through uneasy silence and painful remarks."

Peter flapped his ears at me.

"You sound like you've given up even before trying."

I huffed.

"I don't do rejection really well," I said.

Peter's tail snapped against a table leg and caused the items on the tabletop to rattle about. The sudden jumpiness made my ears react, too, and a surprised expression to spread over my features.

"Neither do I, but monoclonal antibodies work like charm, I've been told", he said.

I snorted.

"Oh, Peter..." I groaned.

"Sorry," Peter smirked. "An old joke from the UNOS support group, when we talked about problems with significant others."

I rested my chin against my paw and shook my head quietly.

"That's awful," I muttered.

"It's a good thing I never wanted to be a stand up comedian, then," Peter grinned. "I might feel quite...rejected."

I shook my head.

"That joke is getting old pretty damn fast," I mused.

Peter pouted.

"I know," he said just as he picked his glass and lifted it up to his lips for a refreshing sip.

I yawned.

"And so is this, too," Peter waved his paw in my direction.

I quirked my brow and snorted.

"Tired of cooking to me already?" I flashed my teeth amusedly.

"Tired of being your 'Dear Aunt Peter', more like, though you could contribute a bit more to housework, too, you know," Peter grinned.

"Sorry," I rumbled.

"Don't worry," Peter winked. "I know you'll be paying in kind in due time."

I coughed.

"I doubt having sex with you would help my reputation in the eyes of Victor at all," I huffed.

Peter licked his lips.

"Maybe not, but it would be fun," he purred.

I wasn't sure what to think of the fact that I agree with what Peter said. It definitely would be the wrong thing to do, I knew that, and I would not hurt Victor again, deliberately as it would be by committing such an act, but I could also not deny the fact that having sex would've been pretty damn fun. It's not like I was physically up to many bedroom antics, considering my lame leg and my stiff paw, but I supposed that it would not have been a hindrance to Peter. He knew how to take things slow and make them last and stay pleasant, even if your physical shape wasn't the best possible one. We'd still made it special, and fun, and made each other forget our troubles, at least for a little while. It had been good. I knew it would be good, too, and that's why I had to say what I was to say.

"It would, yeah" I whispered.

Peter nodded, and smiled, though it was a very thin one.

"I know," he said, "that's why we can't. Not when there're feelings involved."

My ears flicked sharply.

"I don't know, Peter."

Peter chuffed.

"Well you wouldn't be going to shambles over someone who's just a piece of hot ass for you," he said, "This is definitely something else."

I shook my head.

"I don't know what it is," I said. "But I don't want to let it go before I know for certain that I've blown my chance."

"I don't think you have," Peter mused. "I don't think this Victor guy is quite that...hmm...paranoid."

"I don't think he's paranoid," I said quickly, "I think he's just...just..."

I was searching for words.

"He doesn't want to get hurt where it hurts the worst," Peter said.

"Yeah," I nodded, in full agreement.

I knew what it felt like to be hurt where it hurt the worst...that little part of yourself that always doubted whether you were good enough or not...and experiences like that always made you lean towards the "not" direction.

It was such a Peter thing to say, too. He should write books about this kind of stuff or something, I thought.

"So go there and tell him just that. No excuses."

I breathed out deeply.

"And Cobb?" I said. "What do I do with him? I mean...what if Victor and I would start arguing while I'm there and he'd see hear us and..."

"Aren't you exaggerating things a bit, Rowreeh?" Peter rumbled.

I gave him a look.

"Huh?"

Peter's tail tapped a table leg again. My glass danced against my plate.

"Victor could just tell him to get out because he and you want to have a talk, "he said.

I frowned.

"You're not saying that Victor might be using Cobb as an excuse to not to talk with me, then?" I stated, wondering if that was what Peter really had in mind.

Peter shrugged.

"I don't know, though it's not impossible, I guess," he said.

I harrumphed.

"I don't know," I said. "It sounds weird to me."

"I didn't say it's what I think he's doing, but it could be a factor. An useful excuse...or maybe he really wants to protect his brother from the ugly gay truths of his life."

I snorted.

"I think Cobb's a bit too keen to know about every ugly gay truth in his brother's life," I grunted.

Peter chuckled.

"That's definitely not something Ray wants to do," he mused.

"Lucky you," I snuffled.

Peter seemed to be more keen to know about his chicken for the moment, though, and we spent a couple of minutes eating quietly, before my cougar better half opened up again.

"You know, maybe we could use that in your advantage," Peter said.

My ears jumped.

"What do you mean?" I licked some sauce from my lips as I stared across the table to Peter who had just made such a mysterious remark.

"Well, he wants to be involved, so involve him."

I frowned.

"I'm not sure I'm following," I rumbled and felt lame.

"Isn't it simple?" Peter said. "He wants the best for his brother, so we'll get him to help you to do what's best for Victor...a surprise."

I gave Peter a surprised look.

"A surprise?" I surprised.

"A nice, possibly romantic surprise, to cheer up a badly battered Dobie," Peter stated, "and to do that, you'll...hmm...ask Cobb to be your co-conspirator."

I frowned.

"What good could possible come out of that?" I said.

"You'll convince Cobb that you and Victor need some time together after so long apart, and since it's a surprise, you'd like him not to tell Victor, and that you think it'd be best if Cobb left Victor's place for a little while, say...three hours?"

I chuffed.

"I bet Victor would be delighted to hear about me going about doing stuff behind his back like that," I opinioned darkly upon hearing that suggestion.

"But you'll tell him!" Peter said. "You first ask Cobb, so that you'll hear if he agrees to it or not, and then you'll call Victor and tell him that Cobb thinks you're arranging a surprise for him, and that you'll be getting a chance to talk things through privately, just you two. All Victor has to do is to feign surprise when Cobb announces your sudden arrival!"

"And what if we can't talk things through?" I muttered.

"Then it'll just be between Victor and Cobb," Peter replied.

I stared at my plate and wondered about what Peter had just suggested. It was an outrageous idea, just like Peter's often were, but in a way, it also made sense. I really needed to talk about stuff with Victor, face to face, without the danger of Cobb trying to serve tea and biscuits in the middle of it AND SAYING HOW NICE IT IS TO SEE MY FAVORITE GAY COUPLE TOGETHER AGAIN I WAS SO WORRIED THAT I WOULD NEVER GET TO SEE YOUR RAINBOW WEDDING HEY AND I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE BEST MAN BUT HEHEH WE KNOW WHO'S THE REAL BEST MAN FOR VICTOR AND THAT'S YOU RORY DO YOU WANT SOME MORE EARL GREY TEA RORY AND HOW ABOUT THE BISCUITS YOU LIKE THEM I PUT STEVIA ON THEM BECAUSE I WANT VICTOR TO BE HUNKY AND NOT FAT FOR HIS WEDDING WITH YOU RORY!

I tensed a little at the idea of another Cobb attack, and wondered whether I could really pull off something like that. Not having Cobb around would certainly make things easier, and if it was me asking him to leave, Victor couldn't so easily make him stay, either, if it really was that he would be using Cobb as a shield against me...though of course that, too, remained in the realm of speculation. I really didn't want to entertain such a thought. It didn't do good justice of anyone's character. I just wanted to talk to him, tell him I was sorry, that I wanted to make things up, and that I was sorry.

"So you think I should mislead Cobb then huh?" I repeated.

"Well not really," Peter replied, brandishing his saucy fork again, "what else would cheer Victor up more than setting things straight with you again? I think that constitutes a nice, proper surprise."

I nodded, with no complaint about that.

I took a drink from my dwindling glass of water, and wondered.

"Well I don't know."

"Wait a moment," Peter said as he got up from his seat.

"Okay," I addressed his quickly disappearing tail and waited quite patiently until he returned, this time with something in his paw.

"Here you go," Peter said as he let the something fall from his paw.

My eyes followed the flipping object until it landed next to Peter's carefully closed bottle. It was a grey, rectangular piece of cardboard, and it had writing on it.

I have Peter a curious look.

"What's that?" I blinked.

Peter waved a paw over the piece of cardboard.

"Take a look."

I took it dutifully onto my paw and held it up all the way so that I would have no trouble seeing the small print.

My eyes widened as I went reading along.

"Holden & Holden Cyber Logistics...Chicago...Jacob J. Holden, Vice President..." I rumbled.

Peter was already snickering.

"Oh my God," I said as I dropped the slip onto the table.

"Hehheheheh," Peter said.

I buried my face into a paw.

"Oh, crap."

"It's got an email address and two telephone numbers," Peter rumbled. "I think it's your best bet."

I gave the Dobie's card a dubious look.

"Well..."

"Do what you want with it," Peter sat back on his chair and made obvious relaxing moves to accommodate himself, "Now you can't say I didn't try to help."

I gave him a quick look, then gave a quick look at the card, and then pocketed it.

"Thanks," I rumbled.

"Now finish your meal," Peter rumbled, "but leave room for the afternoon sex."

I chuffed.

"You never give up, do you?"

"Nevaaar," Peter slurred happily.

*

This was it.

"Peter?" I said softly from the door.

"Yes, Rory?" Peter lifted his eyes from the book he was reading in bed.

My tail flapped against the doorframe.

"I'm gonna do it now," I said.

Peter flicked an ear at me.

"You sure?" he rumbled.

I nodded quickly.

"Yeah," I said, "I've been thinking about it and I think it's going to be okay."

"Alright," Peter nodded over his book. "Good luck."

I smiled.

"Thanks."

I made my way to the guest room as quickly as I could with my crutches, and then sat myself down onto the bed. The phone was already there, next to the little grey card.

I took a deep breath and grabbed those two items. I knew I had to act quickly or I might lose my resolution, and that's why I didn't waste any time tapping down the number onto my phone and hitting the call button.

My paw was shaking when I lifted the phone up to my ear and waited for the tone.

Beep.

My tail wouldn't stay still.

Beep.

What if he didn't answer...

Beep.

My belly squirmed.

Beep.

Come on, Cobb...

Beep.

Why wasn't he answering? Had he left his phone somewhere?

Beep.

Damn....!!!

I wondered if I would have the guts to try again later on.

Beep.

"Jacob Holden, Holden & Holden Cyber Logistics, good day!"

_ _

Oh my God...

I swallowed.

"Cobb? It's...it's Rory here...Rory Gliese...can we talk for a minute?"

_ _

_ _

_ _

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