FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Valanx!!" you scream, horrified, "What are you doing?! This isn't FA !"

"Yes, yes, I know," I reply calmly, with a slight grin. "It's something I've been working on for the past few months. Don't worry, FA is still coming tomorrow like usual."

"But, but but... It has a FOLDER!! Why does it have a folder?! Are you cheating on FA, Valanx?!"

"Well... FA and I never were in a closed relationship... And I have been thinking about doing a series concurrently with FA for quite some time." I chuckle a bit and scratch my ear. "It probably won't update regularly like FA, more like... 'semi-regularly', heh. FA is still my number one commitment. But this... will exist, too. :3"

You eye the last section warily. "How do you even pronounce that smiley? Why is it inside quotation marks?"

"Trade secret. Now get to reading!" I give you a shove downward in encouragement, and settle back to watch... like a creeper. Quietly, I mutter to myself...

"... :3!"

---

Gavin shivered a little as the car coasted to a stop. The loss of the heat that had been streaming from the vents in the dash was the first thing he'd noticed, followed by the abnormal cluster of lights aglow below the speedometer. One of them had been on for a while, as he watched for an exit sign of any sort.

"Fuck!"

The otter sat, panting and gripping the steering wheel of his little Hyperion. He'd managed to pull over onto the side of the highway, and had flicked on his emergency flashers out of reflex. The incessant ticking seemed only to heighten the ominous mood of the situation.

"Fuck..."

Gavin let out a long sigh, dragging a paw through his long bangs. He knew he should have stopped for gas in Tornid. Stuff was just so damn empty out here, there were no little towns everywhere like he was used to down in the Arcadian heartland. And it was all so big!

Great job, dummy. You ran out of gas. How do you even manage that?

Grumbling, the otter reached over and grabbed his jacket from the passenger seat. Without the heat from the car's vents, it was already growing quite cold; he was up on the plateau now, big black sky and scrubby grass and the mountains away to the east, just barely visible as deep blue lumps in the moonlight filtering through the thin clouds.

Sliding into his thin jacket, the young male opened the door and climbed out onto the shoulder, wet from the drizzle. The familiar rumble of his little coupe's engine did not greet him.

With idle, fitful strides, the otter paced out to the front of his car, staring at the silver hood and bug-eyed headlamps, casting their yellowish glow across his khaki cargo pants. Dead. Draining its battery in automotive misery. Automurder. Death by starvation.

The car's windshield wipers were still on intermittent, giving the occasional, squeaky swish. He ought to turn the car off, or he'd have a car out of gas and with a dead battery.

The otter sighed, flinching as a cold raindrop struck him on the nose. It was so close to freezing that it felt like a little pellet of ice, which then ran down his muzzle so he had no choice but to wipe it off.

He was not a particularly impressive specimen, and he was conscious of that often. Average height, quite skinny, with narrow shoulders and dull grayish-brown fur that made him look less like a sleek maritime animal and more like a rodent. He didn't have a swimmer's build; he was too skinny for that, but what body fat he had was centered in his torso. A solid, rectangular shape from clavicles to iliac crests, it made him look even more ungainly and out of shape than he actually was. Under his t-shirt and cargo pants there was no hidden physical beauty; beneath the dome of his skull lay no particularly remarkable intelligence or charm. He wasn't ugly, but he wasn't really very sexy, and his personality was mediocre. Such judgments had been confirmed by others in addition to his own opinions.

But at least he knew it, and didn't pretend otherwise. He might be a community college student with no future in either careers or romance, but he was himself, nevertheless, and content with that.

Even if he was a complete dummy who starved his car to death in the middle of Bum Fuck, Oregon. Never mind, he wasn't content at all, what an idiot!

Gavin stuffed his paw in his pocket. Better call AAA or somethin'...

As soon as he clicked open the screen, his phone beeped at him. 'Low Battery! Please connect the charger. 8% remaining!'

Shit! Did he have his charger? Yes, of course he did, but wait, where would he plug it in? Dammit! Oh, right, he could hijack some power from his laptop, that would work. Good thing it had a USB thinger, instead of one of those old stupid ones.

The phone beeped again. 'No service. Do you want to turn on roaming? Be advised additional charges may apply.'

Hell. Gavin clicked the button.

'Scanning... No service is available at this time.' The screen disappeared, leaving a little red X up in the status bar.

The otter slammed his paws down on the hood of his car. "FUUUUUCK!" he howled, casting head skyward.

He was stranded. He was stranded, and it was cold, and his car was dead, and it was starting to rain more seriously now... The otter shivered and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. Goddamnit. Goddamnit. What was he going to do?

Panting, Gavin went back around to the driver's door and pulled the hood release, and then went and lifted it, looking sorrowfully at his poor silenced engine. Well, there was nothing he could do sitting out here staring at it... and he was already getting pretty wet.

The otter turned, intending to go sit in the car and wait for a state trooper...

...when he saw the gleam of headlights crest the hill behind him.

The otter stood quite still for a moment, as his brain processed the input... before he took off along the side of the road, waving his paws and yelling like a maniac.

It was some great big Vorgaun or something, roaring toward him with an engine that could have eaten his for lunch. A sedan on steroids, one of the extra-large class that had become popular since the 80s. So big they were legally required to have side and top marker lights, like a freaking truck.

"HEY HEY YOU SHOULD STOP I NEED HELP!"

The vehicle roared at him. Was it slowing down? They had to be slowing down. No one would just drive past someone in distress at this time of night, way out in the middle of nowhere...

"HEY! STOP!"

Vrrrr!

They weren't slowing down.

The gigantic car blew past him, seeming to pass less than a foot from his side. It had to be going at least 90. The blast of air in its wake threw him off balance, and he fell. Further, he had the misfortune to meet the other driver in a small depression in the road, where water was pooling; thus, he was sprayed with a great wave of pelting, dirty, freezing water, before landing sprawled in a puddle.

Gavin lay there for a moment, staring at the starry sky and shivering.

Anything broken? He climbed gingerly to his feet. His hip hurt, but only a little.

Great. Now he was stranded and soaked. Who had he pissed off to warrant this? Was this karma? For what? He was a nice guy! It was other people who were assholes, and deserved to get stranded on the side of the highway in a drizzle... at least!

Well, if he didn't want to get hypothermia, it was probably a good idea to get out of the rain, which was increasing. He'd just have to wait until someone stopped.

Gavin trudged back to his car miserably. He didn't even have a change of clothes. The otter was shuffled between his aunt in Maleworth and his uncle in Fresno, he had clothes in both places. Typically, he flew between them, but his Uncle had grown tired of paying for airline tickets and had issued an ultimatum - either Gavin would drive himself and would be reimbursed for the gas, or he would pay for the airline tickets himself. Considering it had meant he'd get his uncle's older car, Gavin hadn't protested much.

Being a 21-year-old student of an online college with no job and next to no savings, Gavin didn't have much of a choice, anyway. He couldn't afford to move out, so he had to go along with the whims of the people who had been trading off caring for him for the past ten years. Or else get a job. Something else his uncle had been hassling him to do. But he was having a hard enough time with school without something else to distract him... and that argument did work on the high-school-dropout mechanic, who had always regretted his lack of education.

But now, in spite of his supposed school-granted smarts, he was stuck, and couldn't even call for help. The scrawny otter shivered in his coupe, watching a sports car whizz past - the third car so far, counting the Vorgaun. His headlights were draining the battery still, but he didn't want to turn them off and be in the dark. Besides, maybe somebody would see him and stop. A car with headlights on and flashing e-lights was much less creepy than one with the headlights off, he imagined.

Nobody was stopping so far... but he had nothing to do but wait. And try not to freeze. Should probably remember to buy a car blanket, if he was going to make a habit out of this. And maybe stock some food and a radio.

Or, you know, some extra gas.

What a dumbass.

He was so preoccupied by his self-berating, that when he looked up, he was surprised to see a red tailgate in front of him.

For a moment he sat still, and then quickly opened the door and hopped out.

No, he wasn't going crazy. There was a great big red pickup, fenders a little rusty and paint gone matte with age, about 30 feet away. Sitting there, idling. Looked like a Demion. He approached, slowly.

Well, there was definitely someone in it... and who would pull over in front of a stopped car with emergency lights on? Unless they wanted to help?

He paced tentatively up to the door. The driver wasn't getting out.

...Dang. Whoever it was was... big.

Eyes flashed at him from a dark face with a long, blunt muzzle. The window rolled down.

"So ya didn' start walkin'," a deep, rough voice growled.

Gavin shivered, a little afraid. "Nope."

"At least yer not stupid," the truck driver rumbled in a thick northwestern accent; he chuckled a little at that. "Wha's happened?"

The otter gulped. Well, he had someone now... not that he was all that thrilled now that he set eyes on his savior. "Um, please... could you give me a ride to the nearest town? I... need to buy gas."

Another chuckle, deep and booming. "Run out, did ya?"

"Yeah..." the otter admitted sheepishly.

"Hm. Ya oughta be more careful," came the growl. A gigantic scaly paw came out and slapped the outside of his door. "This thin' has a carburetor. I can run it inta the ground an' it'll come up kickin'. Yer new shiny toy over there has a injector, no doubt. Run outta gas, an' ya may be lookin' at quite a bill ta get him fixed."

"Really?" Gavin gasped; he hadn't thought of that! Oh no... He looked back at his 'new shiny toy', a tiny silver Reliant Hyperion from roughly ten years ago. Not particularly new, nor particularly shiny, but in comparison to the red truck...

Another chuckle drew his attention back to the truck window. The guy was grinning a scary grin, a lot of teeth gleaming in the moonlight. "Yep." The seat creaked as he shifted. "Lemme take a look."

The door clunked open. The truck's driver climbed out, slowly, and stood, stretching a little.

Gavin shrunk back. Geez, this guy was gigantic! He towered over the skinny otter, who had never really thought of himself as very short; he was so tall the otter couldn't even hazard a guess, with broad shoulders and hips, a hulking menace. At least... at least more than a foot taller. He had a slightly protruding belly, but his arms and shoulders rippled with muscle, and his pale jeans were just tight enough to indicate the bulkiness of the muscular thighs crammed into them. He was wearing a belt with quite a substantial buckle, and a red plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up and only halfway buttoned.

He was also a crocodile.

A big, fat snout, ending in small nostrils. Slitted eyes under heavy brows. No headfur or ears, a red-and-white feed hat on his head. Scales like greenish-yellow armor, gigantic claws... and more teeth than Gavin could count. More than he ever wanted to count.

Gee whiz. Of all the people that would possibly stop by a stranded motorist at night... he had to get the most terrifying.

The reptile slammed the door of his truck, leaving the engine idling, and with powerful strides he stalked past Gavin, his thick tail flexing back and forth. Gavin tiptoed after.

"Hmmm..." the reptile murmured, giving his engine a rap; it looked tiny next to his fist. "Don' smell anythin' like burnt rubber. Ya smell anythin' like tha' earlier?"

Gavin shook his head.

The crocodile peered around, muttering to himself and poking things. Gavin preoccupied himself thinking about what he would do if this guy was a serial killer. Should he drop the hood on his head? No, he looked like that would just make him angry. Should he sneak back to the reptile's truck and back it into him? No, he looked like that would just make him angrier.

"So wha' brings a city boy like ya way ou' here?" the crocodile growled.

Gavin looked up, and his heart just about stopped. The guy was giving him the look. You know the one. The crocodile look. That faint grin, and those slightly slitted eyes, and that eerie... stillness.

"Uh, t-travelling!" Gavin squeaked. His voice was not normally a squeak, thank you very much, but his masculinity had taken off running and would have to be recovered later. He would probably follow suit... if he didn't believe the crocodile would chase him.

"Ah, right... Headed ta Maleworth?"

It was the only city of note heading north on this interstate until you got to Canada. Also after you got to Canada. Gavin nodded.

"Where ya outta?"

It took him a second to parse the drawl. "Uh... Arcadia! Fresno!" he mumbled. Well, now the guy could hunt him down in either location...

Oh god he was going to die and be eaten! Hopefully in that order!

The scary guy stood, looming over him. "Well, dunno where the pump is on thisson, so I dunno if it's broke. Closes' town wif a gas station is fifty miles, but I'll giyya ride back ta the farm. We got sum gas ya can have."

Gavin gulped. Great. The crocodile was going to take the hapless otter back to his house, and in a few days the missing person reports would be filed.

"'Kay!" he said, voice still quirky. "Um... you're a farmer?!"

"Yup," the crocodile's gravelly voice boomed. He stuck out his paw. "M'name's Rusty!"

The otter gingerly put his paw into the other guy's, and allowed it to be shaken roughly. "I'm Gavin!" he said, unable to say anything that didn't end with an exclamation point. At least he was managing to suppress the 'Ohmygod!'s.

"Arrigh', Gavin..." the crocodile rumbled, fixing him with a dark look and a small grin. "...C'mon..."

Gavin reluctantly climbed into the passenger side of Rusty's truck. He was probably gonna die... but it wasn't like there was anything else he could do. He needed gas, and the super-scary crocodile guy was offering it. All those childhood lessons about don't get into the car with a stranger... wasted! Maybe he should have studied that in college. Major in not getting into the car with strangers. With a minor in avoiding alleys and offers of candy.

The crocodile crammed himself onto the other side of the truck's fairly roomy bench seat. Gavin huddled against the door and tried to inch closer to the heater vent.

They started driving. It was silent, and the only lights were the truck's headlights and the glow of the dashboard. Rusty wasn't very talkative. Gavin wasn't either.

After a few miles, the crocodile seemed to notice him scooting forward and sneaking his paws toward the vent. Or maybe it was the shivering. "You cold?" he rumbled.

Gavin eeped. "No!" He inched back. Don't show any signs of weakness!

Rusty sat still for a moment, just driving. He didn't reply.

Then, he reached out, and turned the heater on full blast.

Gavin began shivering furiously as the warm air hit him. He was still wet. Who would have expected an otter to be miserable while wet? His fur helped insulate him, but too long out there and he would have definitely gotten hypothermia and died.

So which should one prefer? Hypothermia, or a serial killer farmer guy?

Should have gone with the hypo... At least it would be painless. Probably. It was supposed to be pretty relaxing, right?

Unlike being eaten alive by a crocodile.

They came along to an exit, the first one in a while, and Rusty took it. The truck slid down onto a county road that was so minor it didn't even have a bridge at the interstate - it just stopped at the exit and entrance ramps for the northbound lanes. Sucked if you wanted to go the other way for some reason. Like, to get back to the otter's car-corpse.

"Got a ways ta go yet," the crocodile growled.

"Okay..." Gavin murmured.

They did. Rusty went nearly as fast as he had on the interstate, and it still took fifteen minutes. Well, it would take the authorities a nice long time to find him... Gavin shivered in silence, occasionally glancing over at the crocodile, sitting there like iron and driving, those big teeth gleaming in the dashboard light.

Finally, they turned off onto a gravel road, and went a few miles, and then turned off onto another. They rumbled through a small patch of forest, and then emerged at one end of an erratic line of buildings, the nearest a sort of barn. Rusty pulled up and parked in front of it, shutting the engine off. He was sweating a bit from having the heater on, Gavin noticed. So reptiles did sweat... at least, the non-feral kind.

"Gotta get out here," he said. "Gas is at the other end, but I don' wanna wake my parents up."

"Your parents?" Gavin said, surprised.

A family of serial killers ohmygod!

"Yup!" Rusty said, giving him a frightening grin. "I jus' help 'em."

The otter experienced a sudden, strange moment of re-evaluation. "How old are you?" he asked, tentatively.

The ginormous crocodile blinked at him. More than a foot taller and easily twice his weight. "Uh... se'enteen..." he rumbled, scratching the back of his head.

Gavin's jaw dropped.

"Uh, how abou' ya?" the crocodile asked.

"I'm... twenty-one..." the otter murmured.

Rusty nodded. "Thought ya were a bi' closer ta me, but ya look older'n me, so."

Gavin was silent a moment, and then admitted it. "I thought you were like in your 30s or 40s," he said quietly.

Rusty laughed a booming laugh, and opened his door. "Why's that?"

"Well, you're so big..." Gavin squeaked, clambering out in a hurry and walking around the front of the truck; he didn't want to be in an indefensible position, even with a teenager. "And you sounded like you owned a farm and all..."

Rusty rounded the truck as well, positioning himself so the otter was between him and the truck's front bumper. Gavin had to fight not to back away. "Oh?"

"Y-yeah..." Gavin said. "Uh... that and... you're kinda... scary."

The crocodile stood still, a few feet away, looking at him solemnly. "Scary?" he asked, slowly.

"Yeah..." the otter said weakly.

Rusty advanced, slowly, those eerie yellow eyes fixed on him, those teeth gleaming. Gavin froze. The crocodile drew nearer, and nearer.

"Ya think I'm... scary..." he growled, voice quiet.

Gavin trembled, backed against the grill of the truck, between the two glowing headlights. The crocodile was quite close now, and was pinning him with that predatory gaze; he was paralyzed... But though he felt fear, there was something else there, too. He felt...

He wasn't sure how he felt.

Rusty reached out with one enormous, clawed paw. Gavin shrank away, and the crocodile hesitated, but a moment later he resumed motion. The tips of their muzzles were about six inches apart.

Rusty's claws closed around his neck.

Well, okay, more like his neck-shoulder-area. There was a moment of stillness, and then, abruptly, Rusty drew back. "Yer all wet!" he observed, looking at his paw.

Gavin blinked, shaking his head to clear what felt almost like hypnosis muddling his thoughts. "Oh... yeah... some asshole before you buzzed me while I was on the side of the road, I fell in a puddle..." he said.

"Well gee, Gavin, no wunner yer cold!" The crocodile laughed. "Here, c'mon, we got sum clean clothes in the shed, prolly got somethin' that'll fit ya."

The otter watched the crocodile laughing and heading off into the barn behind him... and abruptly felt extremely stupid.

He'd really been convinced he was going to die!

No mistake, he was still kinda scared of the crocodile guy, but it was suddenly clear that this was not an abduction, and the teen farmer guy who had offered a stranded otter help, and taken the guy to his parent's house, and turned on the heater to keep the other male warm even if it made him sweat, and then offered Gavin a change of clothes... was probably not intending to butcher him and eat large pieces whole.

Mmm, liver.

The otter followed Rusty into the shed somewhat sheepishly. The crocodile began rummaging through a cabinet. "Should all be clean, maybe a little dusty, lessee, here're sum jeans, no, too big, here's a shirt, no, hmm, too big..."

Gavin stood and watched, shivering a bit again. The crocodile amassed a small pile of clothes, and a pair of boots that Gavin could probably wear one of as a hat, and use the other to cook stew.

"An' here's a sack ya can dry off on..." the crocodile offered, holding out a piece of burlap with another terrifying grin. "Prolly no' as nice a towel as yer use ta, but yer out in the sticks, now."

"Thanks..." Gavin said, taking it.

"I'd take ya inside ta change, but, well, I'm not 'zactly sposed ta have visitors this late," Rusty said, glancing warily outside the shed. "So ya can change here. Leas' it's not outside, righ'?"

"Okay..." the otter replied, subdued.

The crocodile waited. "Well, go 'head..." he mumbled. "...No' gonna watch ya or anythin'..." He leaned against the wall and looked outside once more. "Jus' hurry up."

Gavin gulped, and began quickly pulling off his jacket, then his t-shirt. He paused to rub the burlap over his chest and back, though it didn't do much except make his fur slightly muddy. He kicked his waterlogged shoes off... and paused.

The crocodile glanced at him after a moment, noticing his hesitation. "Hurry up, c'mon..."

Gavin glanced at him, then took a breath and undid his cargo pants. They fell in a wet heap around his ankles, and he nearly managed to trip himself trying to get his footpaws out of them.

Catching his balance, he glanced up, and saw Rusty rapidly look away.

He grabbed the burlap, and dried himself off more. There hadn't been underwear in the cabinet that he'd noticed - and in any event he preferred not to wear underwear of unknown origin - so he'd just have to dry himself off as best he could. He tossed the burlap aside.

Rusty looked away again. The crocodile was blushing this time, it was visible in the trucks' headlights that dimly lit up the dark shack.

Gavin quickly grabbed the pair of dry jeans and pulled them on over his damp, semi-translucent white briefs. The pants were loose on him, but there was a belt, and he put it on, before donning the blue plaid shirt. It fell around him limply, about as form-fitting as the burlap sack might have been. He did a few buttons on the pants and shirt, and Rusty picked up his wet clothes and hung them up over the shed's rafters.

"There," he said, giving Gavin a little grin (still kinda scary). "All dry."

"Thanks..." the otter said. He felt much warmer already. He stuck his footpaws into the boots.

"O'course..." the crocodile said. "Couldn' leave ya freezin' yer ass off like tha'."

"You've been really nice to me..." Gavin said, feeling guilty for being so scared of the crocodile earlier. "I appreciate it... I just had to get to my aunt's place and I didn't want to show up too late at night, and I didn't stop for gas and, and now my car might be broken and..." Gavin swallowed, the tumultuous events of the night overwhelming him all at once.

"Hey now..." the crocodile came closer, his deep, gruff voice quite soft. "It's okay..."

Gavin whined, looking up at him. He didn't want to spend any longer with this scary reptile than he had to... even if the guy probably wasn't going to eat him. "I appreciate the help, but... but let's just get that gas and get back to my car, so I can see... if it even works..." His voice took a turn for the dejected; his nose dropped toward his footpaws.

"It'll be arrigh'..." Rusty said, just as soft as before. Gavin felt a big paw on his shoulder, and he flinched a little, looking up quickly.

"Don't... surprise me like that..." the otter murmured, looking up at the crocodile. He felt... curious. Rusty's eyes were boring into his.

"Ya don' hafta be scared... I'm no' gonna hurt ya." He drew a little closer, his voice catching, hesitating... before releasing. "...Yer too cute..."

Gavin stared, mouth hanging slightly open. "...C-cute?"

They stood there for a frozen moment, as the reptile inhaled slowly.

"I... I shouldn'ta said tha'..." he rumbled. His voice suddenly grew tense. "I... shit..." Suddenly, he walked away, pacing out of the shed. "Shit!"

Gavin blinked, staring at the dark wood planks which had been behind a crocodile a moment before. The shed was abruptly dark as the truck's headlights were switched off.

Wait, what?

The otter turned and followed, jogging after the rapidly-striding reptile. "Rusty!"

"SHHHH!" the crocodile hissed over his shoulder. "Ya wanna wake up m'parents?!" He gestured at the next nearest building, which was clearly a house, all its lights dark. "They can hear whenna cows are upse' inna neares' field, it's quie' as a stone ou' here!"

"Sorry..." Gavin whispered back, struggling to keep up with the crocodile. "Rusty, what did you mean just now..."

"Shit, le's jus' get yer gas and get ya outta here!" the crocodile rumbled, sounding upset, as he passed the house. "Shit, shit, shit..."

"But Rusty, can't we talk about..."

"Nothin' ta talk abou'! I'm a eejot and tha's tha' and le's jus' get ya outta here real quick like!"

"But, _Rus_ty..."

"An' don' say my name like tha'!" They passed the next barn, which smelled like hay. "Shittin' hell... can' believe I actually jus'..."

"But..." Gavin stumbled after the crocodile. "But..."

"Should'a jus' driven pas' ya," the crocodile was grumbling. "Of alla stupi', ridiculous, prepos-trous things, ole Rusty gotta go an' claim hisself the trophy... chris'... such a damn lummox..."

"I'm glad you didn't pass me..." the otter offered.

"Yeah, betchya are," the crocodile scoffed. "Grea' dirty stupid oaf like me, sayin' things I shouldn' say, 't'cha don' wanna hear, should jus' keep ta myself an' quit thinkin'..."

"Rusty!" They were nearly at another barn, which had a large tank outside it.

The crocodile stopped and rounded on him. "Wiyya quit it wif the name?!"

He was blushing so hard Gavin could see it even in the moonlight on his dark scales.

"I don't think you're a stupid oaf," the otter said.

"Yea well I am," the crocodile retorted quickly, looking down to the side and gripping one wrist with the other paw. "Look, I'm sorry abou' wha' I said, I think sum stupid shit 'n I shoulda kep' it ta myself..."

"Rusty..."

The reptile turned, voice miserable. "Let's jus' get yer gas an'..."

"Rusty!" He gathered his courage... and reached out, grabbing ahold of the crocodile's paw.

The reptile froze. He took a long, slow breath in... and released it, just as slowly.

"Lemme talk dammit," the otter said, as firmly as he was able to at the big scary croc.

"Whatcha gonna say?" Rusty said, casting him a wary look back, not turning to face him. His voice was a lot weaker now.

The otter gulped. "Rusty, look, this is stupid. I don't even know if my car's going to run. I probably broke the damn thing. Making you drive me out there for nothing is pointless."

"I's... i's no' a big deal, really," the crocodile said evasively, trying to draw away; the otter wouldn't let him, however. He'd grown abruptly still.

"I just thought of something. Did I turn my headlights off?"

Rusty blinked. "Huh?"

Gavin groaned. "I didn't. I didn't turn my headlights off. I was scared of you and I forgot and left my headlights on."

"...Oh. I... di'un notice..." Rusty's blush held steady on his muzzle.

"So now my car's probably broken and has a dead battery to go with it." The otter sighed.

"Well, well... I... I c'n jump it fer ya!" the crocodile smiled a bit with the offer, turning halfway toward him. "Got the stuff in m'truck!"

"But is it really worth it to take the gas all the way back there and put the gas the car and jump it only to find out I burned it out and it still doesn't work?"

The crocodile considered. Gavin let his paw go, and the crocodile turned to face him fully. "Hm. I guess ya got a point." He sounded a lot calmer now, and his accent, which had thickened considerably while he was upset, returned to more normal (to the otter's ears) levels.

"And if I'm going to call a tow truck... My cell phone wasn't getting any service out here, and the battery was about to die, and in any event I'll probably have to wait until tomorrow... Unless you have a cell phone that gets service out here." Gavin didn't bother to check his phone's current status.

Rusty shook his head. "I'd offer ya the house phone, but..." He glanced back at the house.

"Your parents."

"Righ'. Hafta wait 'til tomorrow. An' if we're waitin' 'til tomorrow, no point in headin' back ou' there tonigh'." Rusty nodded.

"Right."

"Heck, if we're waitin' 'til tomorrow anyways, I gots a buddy who can prolly fix it cheap, too."

"Great," Gavin said, smiling warmly, and Rusty smiled back. He seemed thrilled to be able to offer the otter assistance, or anything else, whenever he could.

They were standing kinda close again.

After a moment, the cogs in the crocodile's brain apparently churned through the mush that was clearly clouding his thoughts. Gavin couldn't honestly say his mind was that much clearer.

"So, uh... I guess tha' means yer gonna be here tonigh', righ'..." the crocodile said softly.

"Yeah..." Gavin replied.

Rusty licked his mouth. Opened it. Hesitated. "Uh... well..." A long pause. "...if we sneak upstairs real quie'... ya can stay in my room..." His voice had dropped to a whisper, even though they were a hundred yards away from the house.

The otter smiled, folding his paws together a little shyly in front of him. "Okay."

Rusty stood still, staring at him, eyes slightly lidded... and then set off, quickly. Gavin followed. They approached the house, coming right up to the back door... Rusty fumbled about, checking various pockets for keys and mumbling to himself... the lock clicked open and they were inside a dark, traditional kitchen... the door shut, and scarcely daring to breathe, they padded through the room... a dining room, pitch black... Stairs, which they climbed with a horrifying amount of creaking... then down a short hallway, and into the room at the end, on the right.

Rusty shut the door gingerly. Gavin looked around. His room was small and neat, just a double bed (which the giant guy probably needed just for himself), a desk, a bookshelf. Not even a computer. He did have a couple posters and a CD player, though.

"My parents're up on the secon' floor..." Rusty said quietly, "an' on the other side of the house... so we don' hafta be totally silen'."

"Okay..." Gavin said. "Good."

"Ya tired?" Rusty asked, uncertain.

"Yeah..."

"Wanna go ta bed?" Rusty shifted around him. "Ya can have the bed... I'll sleep on the floor..."

"Rusty..."

The crocodile turned and looked back at him from the middle of the room. "I'm not makin' ya sleep on the floor, no way, so hush yerself..."

Gavin suddenly felt shy again. "Can't we... um... both sleep in the bed?"

Rusty blinked. "Uh..."

"I mean, I don't want to make you sleep on the floor either..." the otter justified, just in case. He was pretty sure, now... but, just in case.

Rusty stepped a little closer. "Well... I mean... If ya don'... mind..."

"Of course not."

"I kinda sprawl out a lot... So I dunno if... I mean, how somebody else'll..." He stopped, scratching his head. "Never really had anybody else in m'bed before so..."

"Heheh, it's okay... I'll probably fall right asleep..." Gavin yawned a bit, and didn't have to fake it at all. "I've kinda had a big day..."

"Yeah..." Rusty said, voice even gentler. "Ya poor thing... ya deserve a good sleep..." He hesitated. "...Sorry I scared ya earlier."

"It's okay," Gavin said, smiling a little. "I'm not scared now..."

"Why's tha'?" Rusty was standing pretty close now, though Gavin wasn't sure which one of them was moving nearer. Possibly both.

"Well... You're a really nice guy... You've been so nice to me..." he murmured. "And... It was scary at first... but you're so strong... You're huge, and you've got those teeth..."

"No' gonna hurt ya..." Rusty murmured. "Wouldn' hurt a fly... an' definitely no' a... nice... guy like ya..."

"Heh..." Gavin looked up at the crocodile. "And... you're really..."

Their noses were drawing closer.

"...quite..."

Rusty's breath puffed in his face.

"...hands- mmmh..."

---

Part of the purpose of this project is to introduce you guys a bit better to my 'main' furry universe, which FA is, quite ironically, not set in. Hence, the Oregon you're thinking of is not the Oregon this story is set in; it's quite a different place, geographically as well as socially. That's also why you won't recognize any of the cars... it's been so weird, writing about cars that actually exist, in FA ! If you want something to visualize a bit better, the Reliant Hyperion that Gavin drives looks a lot like a '98 Honda Civic. This is, incidentally, the same universe that Group is set in.

Next update is already finished, so I'll probably post it sometime early next week. Tell me what you thought! More comes, soon, and also later!