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Hey, guys! Got a slightly longer one for you today. I'm expecting the next couple weeks may end up that way; I don't feel like breaking them up into smaller episodes and I have plenty of free time at the moment. If you're new and you like gay romance, drama, and plots that are built around more than just sex, orient yourself toward that sinistral Episode 1 teleportation device, and enjoy!

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_ Friday. _

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"So, uh."

The gray fox was playing some sort of space game on his computer. Jonathon had never seen it before, which was saying something. It involved a lot of clicking and tense body movements, dodging to side to side reflexively as he jerked his mouse left and right.

"Um, I'm going to be heading out soon."

The fox threw him a quick up-and-down. "Going on a date?"

Jonathon blushed a little, digging the tip of one shoe into the carpet. "Shut up." He didn't wear this pair of shoes often, they felt a little stiff against his paws.

"Alright. Thanks for sharing." The fox leaned in and furrowed his brow, clicky-clicking up a storm.

Irritated, the raccoon huffed. "I'm telling you, because I may not be back tonight, and I figured you'd like to know that I hadn't been kidnapped or something."

The fox paused, and then hit the escape key. "Oho!" He leaned back, surveying the raccoon with a satisfied expression and crossing his arms. "So it's come to that, has it?"

Well, gee, when he put it like that... Jonathon's ears dipped back; his paws twisted behind his back. "Well, I mean, maybe. I might be back later, but I thought you should know I might not."

His roommate leered at him. "You're taking condoms, right?"

The raccoon blushed furiously. "Rileyyyy!"

The fox chuckled. "Seriously, though. Or don't you have any? If you need to borrow some of mine you can."

"Shut up! Yours probably aren't even the right size!" the raccoon shot back. Given the significant differences between the genital anatomy of certain species - canids and procyonids, for example - a condom was fairly useless unless it was properly designed for its wearer. "I'm sure Brad has some, it's not important anyway!"

"Oh, so he's the one who needs the condoms, is he? Didn't know that about you, Jonny." The fox giggled a bit to himself.

"Don't call me that!" Jonathon's fur was all standing up, and his ears were way back. "Jeez, we haven't even talked about... stuff, it's nothing like that, so can ya quit bein' a jerk for two seconds?"

"Arright, arright." The fox, smirking, stuck his paws behind his head. "You still ought to take some."

The raccoon ran his paw through his headfur and huffed, tail lashing behind him. "It's really unlikely I'll need them, okay? There's a very good chance I'll be back later, I'm just telling you I may not, on the offchance I decide to..." he hesitated. The blush that had begun to fade abruptly returned. "...stay over there."

"And do what?" Riley still seemed annoyingly amused.

"Haven't you ever heard of a real relationship?" the raccoon said, somewhat dryly. "You know, where you enjoy doing things besides each other?"

"Hmmm..." The fox frowned comically, furrowing his brow. "...Oh yeah, I think I did hear about something like that, once..."

"Anyway," Jonathon grumbled. "If I'm not back tonight, that's where I am. Now you know."

"Duly noted." The fox unpaused his game and returned to his spaceships, still carrying a faint grin that Jonathon found all sorts of vexing. With a growly huff, he returned to the mirror over the dresser, to see that his headfur had been all screwed up now. Gee, thanks, roomie.

And he was going to be late if he didn't get going... He didn't want that.

Jonathon snatched his comb from the dresser and headed for the door. "See ya later," he said shortly in the fox's direction.

"Bye!" the other male offered, his tone aggravatingly cheerful and knowing.

Jonathon scowled the whole way down the hall. Riley could be a jerk sometimes. It was hard to remember that the fox usually meant well - after all, Jonathon supposed there were far worse ways the fox could tease him, than by encouraging him to take condoms on his gay date - but the raccoon had long thought Riley got a little too big of a kick out of making fun of people. It was about the only time he saw the guy grin that big.

Come on, now, Jonathon... you don't want to be all pissed off at dinner. The raccoon's paws thudded on the stairs; he inhaled slightly, and set the episode behind him. Tonight was going to be nice, and he really ought to enjoy it while he could.

Yeah. Riley wasn't going to ruin tonight for him. There'd be plenty of time to get his revenge later... muahaha!

The young male smiled slightly, tugging the comb through his short headfur as he stepped outside. There was a rusty awning which overhung the rear door, sagging tiredly on the two chains that anchored it to the dorm's haggard brick face. The chilly air rushed over him as he stood beneath it, watching the steady drip, drip of rainwater from the slightly lopsided awning's lowest corner. It was just above freezing, cold enough that he shivered in his thin long-sleeved shirt, warm enough that the precipitation still splashed and spattered. There was ice lingering on the grass from the freezing rain a few days before, slowly melting under the onslaught of this liquid newcomer.

Peering out across the parking lot, the raccoon stuffed his comb into his pocket, flicking his little ears back a bit. Gee, what a dismal night to go on a date... He hoped Brad would park up close to the building. He didn't want to get his clothes all wet hunting for the wolf's car.

Hmmm... who was that sitting there, with their ridged bar of taillights aglow?

Jonathon hesitated, craning his head a bit. Uncertainly, he pulled his phone out, and checked for new texts. Nothing. Maybe he'd forgotten to send one? That did seem a bit like his boyfriend, the raccoon thought with a small smile.

The raccoon gingerly stepped off onto the wet pavement, his nice shoes producing a satisfying click against it. Brad had told him the place they were heading to was fairly nice, certainly an appropriate place for some dressy clothes, and Jonathon wasn't the type to hesitate at the chance to don a pair of dark slacks, and a collared shirt of the palest green hue. He'd considered a tie, but it wasn't an interview; he didn't want to go past 'classy' to reach 'stuffy'.

He wouldn't've said no to the suit jacket, in retrospect, however. It was cold! And the rain cut through his thin shirt like a seive. Jonathon hastened towards Brad's car, breaking into a bit of a trot, and then slowing as he neared it. He came around an SUV to the driver's side and rapped on the window.

It rolled down quickly, and Jonathon grinned; an equally excited face appeared in the window.

Erk!

"Oh! Uh... You're not..." Suddenly quite flustered, Jonathon found himself staring at a youngish dragon guy, whose eyes widened when he processed the raccoon standing beside his car.

"Eeep!"

"Sorry!" Jonathon cringed. "I, uh... I thought you were somebody else, waiting for me!"

"Oh... oh! I... I'm actually waiting for somebody myself!" the dragon replied sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Sorry..." the raccoon said, feeling stupid. "Your car looks kind of the same and all..."

"No big deal!" the drake said, though his yellow cheek-scales bore a bit of a blush.

Jonathon beat a hasty retreat. No, that was not a Plymouth, he noticed now; he wasn't much of a car buff, but that pretty clearly said "Toyota" there in the corner of the trunk, and the doorhandles were wrong, and the wheels looked different. He'd totally just run up to a random car expecting his boyfriend to be in the driver's seat. In his defense, the car was maroon, like Brad's, and from roughly the same era, all blocky and un-aerodynamic. Jonathon didn't know cars.

Good thing he hadn't launched himself at 'Brad', like he'd been kind of thinking about doing. Random stranger-kissing had served him well in the past, but Jonathon imagined a repeat performance wouldn't have gone quite as nicely as the first.

...Particularly when Brad got wind of it.

The raccoon paced back toward the building, only now feeling the full extent of the embarrassment that his experience deserved.

Hopefully the night would go uphill from here...

A pair of gleaming headlights poked around the corner of the building, and a boxy nose vrrmed through the turn, before crackling toward him over the rough pavement, that odd mix of gravelly tire-sound, wet splashy-sound, and doppler effect that was so characteristic and recognizable. It reminded Jonathon of being very small, visiting the city with his parents, holding onto his dad's paw. This very city, in fact, though he didn't know where they'd gone. Probably downtown somewhere, not near campus. He'd heard more cars go past on that walk down the street than he'd ever heard before, in his short life.

The raccoon wasn't sure why he remembered that at this moment... but, whatever the reason, his response was to cautiously step out of the way of the oncoming car, and, smiling a little when he recognized the logo on the grille and the rectangular glass headlights, to hesitantly step up to the passenger side. Hopefully this time would be a bit more successful.

The rear window rolled down. "Hey there!" Marty exclaimed, grinning at him. "Well, gee, you look nice!" The boar was wearing a polo over long sleeves and had his headfur combed back; it gave him a very different look from the somewhat slovenly impression he'd presented on Tuesday.

"Heheh, hope I didn't overdo it..." the raccoon said a bit shyly, paw going to his neck... much like that dragon guy, he reflected; he drew it away quickly before he could manage to mess up his headfur again.

"No, no, you look great, hop in before you get even wetter!" Laughing, the boar reached up and popped the lock on the passenger door. Gulping, Jonathon gripped the doorhandle - the right kind, this time - and pulled. The latch clunked; the heavy steel hinges creaked a bit as they were forced to move.

Jonathon quickly hopped in, trying to look both toward the occupant of the driver's seat, and toward the door at the same time. "H-hi," he offered to the glovebox.

Slam! The door was shut; the raccoon reflexively fumbled for his seatbelt.

"Doesn't he look cute, Brad?" Marty chuckled from behind.

Jonathon paused, holding his seatbelt in his lap with both paws, looking toward the driver hesitantly.

The wolf was wearing a crisp white shirt, thicker and heavier than Jonathon's, and a sweatervest of muted argyle in shades of dark blue. It looked a bit strong next to his dark fur, but on the other hand, Jonathon supposed 'strong' was a look that suited the tall wolf. And the wolf had certainly been more practical about the temperature than his boyfriend. The raccoon was wishing he'd at least worn an undershirt; he had some gray ones that wouldn't show up against his fur...

Slowly, the wolf reached out, and brushed at the raccoon's rain-marked shoulder. "Yeah," he said, voice a little husky. He cleared his throat. "You got wet... What were you doing out in the parking lot, anyway?"

Jonathon meeped a little, finally buckling his seatbelt. "I was dumb and thought I saw you waiting for me, but it was some random guy waiting for somebody else..."

"Oh." Brad frowned and peered toward the rows of cars, but they were at the wrong angle to see the car Jonathon had approached. "Sorry... We're a bit late..."

"I walked in ready to go and Brad was still sitting there in his underwear fretting about what to wear," Marty put in wryly.

"I was a bit late down here, too, it's okay," Jonathon replied, chuckling a little. "And I think he made a nice choice."

"I should have worn the darker shirt," Brad grumbled quietly to himself. He took the car out of park and coasted toward the other end of the lot. "Get in the car with a darn Calvin Klein model and I look like an experiment in high-contrast monochromatic cubism..."

Marty cackled in the backseat.

"I daresay I'm wearing a bit more than most Calvin Klein models..." Jonathon observed, looking out the window. The image of Brad doing a sexy magazine pose wasn't too bad, though... Monochrome was just fine.

The windshield wipers swish-swished, and the engine va-voomed, and the blinkers ta-ticked. They were cruising through downtown, and dark skyscrapers loomed above, only a few lights still burning where office slaves feverishly burned away years of their lives without quite realizing what it was all going toward.

Jonathon wondered how many of them were lonely gay guys with no romance in their lives, as he had been not so long before. I mean, a city of this size, there had to be some, right? Even in the subset of Friday night workaholics. There was certainly at least one in the subset of college students with a 3.5+ GPA. Jonathon supposed he'd always had Greyson... but that wasn't the same. Having Greyson had almost made him... more lonely.

Scratch the 'almost'.

The streets were busy, the cars were smears of light beside them. Neon signs flickered. They rumbled through the red light district, and Marty made an off-color comment that made the other two males snort. Past city hall, through a spur of midtown jutting into the buildings, and then they were nearly at the river. A shipping vessel was going past, lights winking on its deck. The state capitol was visible on the far side of the river, gleaming, its flags and façade lit up with giant spotlights. The blinker blinked.

In the last block before the river, a medium-sized building stood, hailing from the last gasp of construction before the literal rise of the city's skyscrapers. The ground fell away around it, so that two whole levels of 'basement' were exposed on the river side, and it was to this side they were headed, after the car had been parked and Brad had fumbled for quarters at the meter. A polished wooden door lead to a waxed stone floor, dark furnishings, dim lighting, and waitstaff in black vests and white shirts. Jonathon had never been here before, but he'd heard about the place.

The white tablecloth felt like silk. The salad fork was a different shape from the dinner fork. When Jonathon ordered a coke, it came in a glass that Brad remarked was intended to hold Cabernet Sauvignon.

"It lets more air get to the wine, it's supposed to improve the flavor," the wolf said. "And it sort of encourages the wine to move further back in your mouth when you drink it, which is supposed to be better for making it smooth and not strong, because red wines tend to be pretty strong." The wolf shrugged. "I don't know about all that, but it's sure easier to fit your damn snout into than a champagne flute."

The raccoon chuckled and sipped his coke. After some minor awkward debate over who was paying, they'd agreed to split this date and each finance their own meals, since it was a sight more expensive than their first excursion, and Jonathon had extracted a reluctant promise from his lupine companion to let the raccoon pick up their next tab. It wasn't about keeping anything fair, at least, not to the coon. He wanted to buy Brad dinner, because he wanted to buy Brad dinner.

Still, as he waited for his fancy salmon and munched the extremely good, extremely fluffy assorted bread pieces that were brought out, Jonathon was bemused by how very different this date was from their first. He could only imagine exactly how nervous he would have been, in this strange, intimidating environment with a sincere, serious, romantically engaged wolf, expecting things of him and wanting things for him... if not for...

"Yeek, I hope I'm doing this right..." Marty said self-consiously, holding his salad fork awkwardly as it bit into a crouton. "I'm allowed to stab the croutons, right? That's not an un-classy thing to do?"

"Yes, it's fine," Jonathon chuckled, chewing his own lettuces - with cheese! - and handling the utensil a bit more gracefully than the boar. "Not sure there's another way to eat them, really..."

"I swear, I have never been to a place this fancy," the boar muttered, casting his eyes around surreptitiously. "I mean, Brad told me this was going to be a nice place, but I mean... I mean, jeez!" he pointed a pawdigit at the center of the table. "Look at that! Just... just look at that!"

Jonathon raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

"That," Marty said, intimidated, "is a little candle. With a lampshade. A little candle with a lampshade. And it is lighting our table. It is the only light on our table. I mean there are those dim spotlight things, but they're pointed everywhere. We're at a table lit by a little candle with a lampshade, and the light reflected - tastefully, I'm sure - from that little candle off the horrifyingly white tablecloth that I've already gotten salad dressing on." The boar looked up. "Doesn't that just freak you guys out?"

"Not really," the raccoon replied, amused.

Marty looked to his roommate beseechingly.

The wolf looked up and blinked, his soup spoon jutting out the side of his mouth. "Hey, don't look at me, dude," he said, removing it slowly. "My mom's a regional executive, she made sure I got a good taste of this high society stuff whenever I was over." He slurped his bisque. "Rrrrh, mrrrgrrrrd," came around the spoon. "Jonathon you have to try this it's amaaaazing."

"Don't mind if I do!"

The wolf scooped up some of the red-orange liquid, capturing a chunk of crab; Jonathon reached out, and then smiled when Brad refused to offer the spoon to him, and leaned forward a bit, opening his mouth just a little.

With a slight smile, the wolf moved in with his utensil, being extra-careful so as not to spill anything in this awkward position. Jonathon came forward as he did so, his little black nose snuffling a little as he got a good whiff of the soup. Passively, he let Brad gently insert the spoon into his mouth, casting his coppery eyes up at the wolf as his lips closed around it. His pointy teeth clicked against the metal; his whiskers dipped slightly as his mouth tightened. Brad tugged a little, and the spoon came free, absent its contents.

"Mmmmm..." the raccoon remarked.

Understatement.

Somewhere far away, a little raccoon was watching fireworks go off. A little raccoon was winning the lottery, and getting 110% on an exam, and having an orgasm. Or seven.

Jonathon wiped his mouth with the back of his paw. "Holy crap, that's good..." he uttered.

"I know, right?!" the wolf rumbled, ecstatic. His eyes were fixed on the raccoon's; Jonathon's flicked to the spoon still clutched in his boyfriend's paw. When he looked back, Brad's expression slowly shifted, and Jonathon came to realize the other male was now smiling about something else.

Jonathon smiled back.

Then, he dipped his head, blushing a little, and cast a surreptitious glance around.

Shit!

"Any chance I can get in on that?" the boar remarked a bit dryly, holding up his own spoon. "If it's that good..."

Had he actually just done what he distinctly remembered just doing? Here?! Wow...

"Hm? Oh, sure," Brad replied. "What, you don't want me to feed you, too?"

Sure, this wasn't their first date... but Brad hadn't done anything like that on their first one! What if somebody had seen? They were in public!

"I'll pass." The clink of silverware against a plate.

The raccoon felt a terrible sense of déjà vu... and his sudden fear flared into anger.

For chrissakes, get a grip for at least a few hours! the raccoon scolded himself. This was ridiculous, he was actively resisting being romantic with Brad. No way of disguising that; he'd done this again and again. The pattern in his behavior was pretty clear now. Little things like this were an integral part of the relationship he was involved in, that was clear, and every time they came up, he panicked. It was like he didn't want to be this guy's boyfriend.

Did he... not want to be Brad's boyfriend?

No. No, of course he did; even thinking the thought brought a faint stinging to his eyes. He wanted this... and he wanted everything it entailed. He wanted it so much. It was just... doing it... that grew complicated.

And yet... did he really think, that he could have this... this thing, that made his eyes sting... for any length of time, if he kept handling it the way he had?

No.

Brad didn't deserve that. He deserved better. He deserved... trying.

Jonathon stiffened his resolve. If Brad wants to do stupid romantic things in public, I'm capable of handling them without having a panic attack every single time.

"Oh, yeah, that's amazing... man, I should have ordered that!"

Good thing Marty was here to provide a distraction. Jonathon took a gulp of his drink to compose himself. He was shaking.

He wondered if Brad had noticed his most recent episode. He hadn't seen the wolf's reaction, but it was... agonizing... to imagine the wolf's falling expression, the growing hurt in his eyes just before Marty asked for a bite. He had to be used to this by now. Had to be used to... not being allowed to act on his feelings. Being punished, when he did.

The coon wondered if Marty had noticed it, and distracted the wolf on purpose... he still couldn't read the boar very well. He was friendly enough... but Jonathon had no idea what Brad's best friend thought of the wolf's new boyfriend.

Probably nothing good, if he was paying attention.

Jonathon cast his gaze out the window mournfully, toward the buildings aglow on the far side of the rain-churned river. What would Marty... or anyone... think of a boyfriend who refused to do anything romantic unless they were alone?

Sounded pretty uncommitted. Selfish. Maybe even reluctant.

What a crappy boyfriend.

"Yeah, the cream and pepper definitely add something to it, but the crab is what really gives it the rich flavor, I think..."

Jonathon didn't want to be a crappy boyfriend. He wanted to be a good one.

The raccoon turned his head abruptly. "Hey, Brad..."

The wolf's attention returned to him. "Yeah, honey?"

Jonathon gulped, heart pounding in his throat.

His paws found themselves gripping the wolf's shoulders. Brad was leaning nearer reflexively, and Jonathon...

...had his lips pressed against a wolf's.

It was possibly the briefest smooch they had yet shared, and certainly the most chivalrous. Even his mother would not have blushed at the sudden, tense lip-bump the two exchanged. And yet, in spite of that, it was in no way a gesture devoid of emotion.

On the contrary.

Jonathon broke away, gasping as though he'd just finished bench-pressing the big wolf instead of kissing him. Good set. Let's hit the showers.

Brad's eyes slid open slowly, looking at him with a strange, new sort of clarity. Something Jonathon had never seen before. His mouth had come slightly open in the wake of their sudden communion, and Jonathon heard... no, felt... the soft rush of air in past his boyfriend's teeth, as he remembered to breathe.

"You've never done that before..." he murmured, under the breath. It was clear he did not mean just kissing; they'd done that plenty. He was surprised, his tacit, unspoken assumptions challenged and discarded. So, he had noticed the raccoon freaking out again...

The raccoon pursed his lips a bit and hardened his gaze, looking at the other male defiantly.

He could do whatever the fuck he wanted. Including kissing Brad in public.

So there.

And yet, the raccoon quickly dipped his head, ears tweaking back. "Don't... expect it too often, or anything..." he replied, eyes darting to his salad. Brad deserved trying, but Jonathon couldn't do more than just that. Try.

He felt a paw come to touch his arm. When he looked back up, Brad's eyes met his... at once filled with understanding, and gratitude, and deep affection. After a moment, the wolf's expression shifted into a faint smile. "If you wanted another bite, all you had to do was ask..."

A beat. The raccoon huffed, and the moment broke. Marty cackled, and Brad grinned a bit. Jonathon sat back, overtaken by another bout of trembling as the adrenaline surging through him became perceptible. He chuckled, nervous, relieved.

"You'll forgive me if I just say thanks," the boar interjected, snickering. Jonathon was a bit surprised to notice he was blushing. He supposed it was a bit much for a straight guy, going to dinner with some male friends only to have them suddenly indulge in PDA and get all emotional with each other. He didn't seem to mind... but that'd be a bit much for any friend, really... let alone hapless members of the public. Jonathon cast a glance around the restaurant... No matter how ballsy he was feeling, he hoped no one had caught sight of that little stunt he'd just pulled.

"That'd probably be best, yeah." Brad scooped up some more of his soup, which was getting quite low, and looked curiously toward Jonathon again. "What was that for, anyway?"

The raccoon glanced up, and shrugged a little. "Just... wanted to do it." And this time... I managed to.

Jonathon could scarcely believe it himself.

He smiled shyly at his boyfriend, flicking his ears... and a black-vested waiter approached with a tray.

---

For the record, going to a fancy restaurant with a group of friends is loads and loads of fun. The food is good, the atmosphere is nice, and everything becomes funny. When you've got a couple friends that are close, sticking yourselves voluntarily into an unfamiliar situation is an excellent way to have a great time, it's an interesting social phenomenon. But, then again, I love fancy restaurants, and my parents (especially my mother) made sure I didn't have a reason to be uncomfortable with a few extra forks and glasses on the table.

An authorly remark: I think Jonathon's behavior in this episode is very, very particular. It relies on the fact that he's been around Brad for a reasonably long while, now, and the fact that he's freaked out about public behavior several times recently. Also, his attitude is reflective of his most recent encounter with Greyson, you'll notice. If any of those influences hadn't been present, I don't think tonight would have turned out very well at all for him and Brad - getting Jonathon to feel or act any way in particular is a lot like a pinball game.

However, I think Marty is the real reason that this episode was not about one huge disaster. Go back and reread some of it, if you like... There would have been a great deal more pressure on Jonathon if it had been just the two of them, and he doesn't seem to handle pressure well. Having someone else there gave him enough breathing space to keep his discomfort from building exponentially. Unfortunately, he was so focused on not screwing things up, that I'm not sure if he noticed properly - Marty could probably use a thank-you for it, considering he had to put up with being a third wheel.

See you guys next week.