Recovery, Step Four
#4 of Recovery
Hello everyone! I hope you were looking forward to this, even just a little bit. I meant to get this up before June ended, but I was never good at deadlines. I'm very sorry this took so long if you were waiting for this, but I dare not be so arrogant as to assume you were. *laughs* Please, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Thank you for reading.
Everything was warm. The arm around your shoulders, the fur your head was snuggling up to, the leg next to yours beneath the encompassing covers. A glowing sense of calm burned through you, awareness soon following. The inviting spicy, invigorating scent of another man's sweat overwhelmed your olfactory senses, seducing your heavy body to sink deeper into the enthralling, relaxing warmth. You'd have nestled in and slept ever deeper were the sounds of peaceful snoring not droning from the muzzle above yours.
Your eyelids opened a fraction at a time. Your right eye was smothered in blackness, but the left was receiving an up close and personal view of a pair of muscular pectorals which could only belong to a certain noisy sleeper of a Rottweiler. However, even that deep breathing was of some comfort as it washed over the top of your head.
You yawned, as us cats do, stretching your limbs to their full extent and rubbing up against the nearest warm surface. As that had unintentionally woken the behemoth, you found yourself trapped in a snare of a cuddle. You peered over the fortress of muscle at the clock reading: 1:30 PM.
"Hrrmmm, liking this."
Your ears perked as your eyes retargeted on Brian's half-open eyes and sleepy smile.
"Mornin' cutie. One hell of a night, 'eh?"
"Well..." You hesitated to answer, even in that quiet, mousy voice.
"We were pretty naughty. I mean, passing out as soon as we get to my place? You're the embodiment of seduction you are."
Your face burned. You sought to stare at something other than Brian's own smug visage, just as the slightest quiver snuck onto the corners of your lips.
"S-Sorry..."
"Yeah, you better be sorry. A nice drink and waking up spooning a cute kitty? You sadist."
"No, not that part-" Your face burned brighter as Brian released a tiny chuckle. "The... spending the night with you even though you just broke up with... y'know... part."
"Well, I like to wash my mouth out of a rotten taste with something sweet. And dayum boi, you are sweet." He licked his lips and you looked as though you were about to cough up a hairball in shock. Brian broke out in a fit of jolly laughter and shook you lightly. "Relax, babe. I may be fairly forward, but even I'm not about to declare my love to you and have a good morning fuck after one drink. If anything, I should apologize for dragging you into that. So, I apologize."
"Oh... um..." You were struggling to find the words to respond to such an anomaly as an apology. You were usually the one making them. "That's alright."
"So, now that you're a little more sober." The Rottie gave your headfurs an affectionate ruffle. "Would you like to stick around for a brunch date so you get to know the random dog you just had a good snuggle with? Or are you off?"
"What day is it again?"
"Thursday."
"What kind of-" you smiled shyly as a distinct hue of red scorched through your fur, "-brunch date did you have in mind?"
Brian grinned and leant in for a tender kiss on your forehead.
"A good one. You wake up, I'll get some waffles going. You like eggs?"
"Y-Yeah."
Brian kept you in his arms as he rose up, only to deftly lean you back onto the soft cream-coloured mattress and pillows so carefully you might as well have been made of glass. He left the musky bedroom with a wink, a remarkable giggle escaping you when you saw him exit wearing only flowery boxers and white socks. He certainly wasn't embarrassed about showing off his body for the guy he literally just met.
The Rottweiler was halfway through closing his waffle maker when you emerged from the bedroom into a literally dazzling kitchen. Stainless steel covered nearly inch of the blinding room, even the counters. Radiant pans and pots hung from their own designated hooks on the walls above several deep sinks, usually seen in a kitchen. In fact, the whole kitchen seemed very professional, polished to a sheen which would make a health inspector blush. The only scent lingering was the scent of soap; with a hint of coffee.
"Have a seat in there," Brian casually pointed to the open doorway next to his fridge as he tended to the eggs on the stove. Sitting at the out of place round, wooden table beyond, you flinched at the already prepared mug of coffee in front of you, the side of which had the words: 'SEXY THANG' painted on the side in large, golden, glittery letters. Brian followed suit soon after, placing a plate of steaming eggs before your twitching nose. "Wasn't sure what you took with it. Milk or cream? Do you like tea instead?"
"No, I'm fine. Thanks. S'just... uh..." You gave the mug a scrutinizing glance. Brian's response was a series of eccentric chuckles.
"Was I too subtle?"
"Uh..." I suppose you were finding it difficult to partake in the flirting. It just wasn't you and I suspect Brian was being more forward than you were accustomed to. He relented fairly quickly as his teasing grin morphed into an understanding one.
"Want a different mug?"
"No, it's... fine... just... not used to..." You trailed off near the end and you tried to find anywhere to look other than his direction.
"Not used to... what?"
"... attention."
"Heheh," Brian chuckled, reached over to plant a paw firmly on your headfurs to pull you in for a light peck on the lips. Once parted, your lips had quivered ever so slightly into a flustered grin. "Let's see how fast I can fix that."
His touch left you at the sound of a loud beeping from the kitchen. He shuffled off after a quick wink. Your nose wrinkled. The entire apartment was as scentless as a hospital except for him.
"Hot stuff, comin' through," Brian declared as he burst through the door again, this time with two plates, each with its own pair of steaming waffles atop them. "Also, there's waffles."
You used that killer, miniscule smile again. That one that just makes you look so cute and kissable. Sorry. I'm gushing again.
"Thank you," you said quickly. You were only through one of your three eggs at this point, warranting a quirk of the brow from Brian.
"Are they no good?"
"No way, they're... fantastic." You continued to look away, still unsure of what to feel. "I'm just a slow eater."
"Good. Glad I'm not losing my touch then," I wondered if you were wondering if he would ever put any pants on. However, during no part of this story did I hear Brian tell me the words: "I then put my clothes back on." So as you might be able to tell, I'm not especially enthusiastic about writing this part, but it's necessary.
"Losing your touch?" You asked as you grabbed your knife to start buttering up your waffles.
"I'm a chef."
"R-Really?" You asked, genuinely surprised. "That's... kind of embarrassing. I'm a... waiter."
"How is that embarrassing?"
"Well..." You were trying your best, clearly. However, social situations, especially small talk weren't your strong suit. "... y'know. Waiters are..."
"Hey, chefs need wait staff. How else is the food gonna get out of the kitchen, silly?"
"Mmmh," you muffled, looking away as if ashamed. You bit into your waffle and grinned.
"There's a big smile," Brian winked. "I like it."
Blushing once more, your ears fell back and you kept your shy eyes off him. You took another sip of the rich coffee with hope in your heart that he hadn't noticed your tail swishing around happily.
"So," murmured the Rottie, "if I may be so blunt, what is the shy, striped kitty into? I'm going to assume by your opinion of them, you don't want to be among the bus boys your whole life."
"Um... well... I... want... to be a director. Or a writer... maybe an actor."
"Been in anything I might've seen?"
"No, nothing big or anything. Just... high school plays and stuff, y'know. My... high school acquaintances and I bought an old theater company. Started it up again."
"You... call them acquaintances, but you invested in a theater with them?"
"Well... I... I don't think... um..." You were getting flustered again. Fortunately, Brian was there to put a comforting paw on yours. Your eyes met his at last and you visibly relaxed. "Sorry."
"Hey, if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. I'm not gonna pressure you. I think you'll find I'm pretty chill." He smiled reassuringly. "So. Anything else you into?"
"Not really. Go to college, go to work, sometimes go to the theater. Write when I get a chance."
"Any written successes?"
"Well... the... theater guys got their hands on some of my scrapped stuff one day... and for some reason they thought it was good... so we performed them. And... we made more money than I think we should have."
"Sounds like they were better than you thought."
"No way. The reviews were mixed at best."
"Well, I never trust critics. There's a common notion running around that if you're negative, you sound smarter than you are."
"Trust me, if it was any good it was because everyone else performed it well."
"And you? Were you in it?"
"Yeah... but I kind of dragged it down. I'm the weakest actor there."
"Hmm, what did you call this performance, again?"
"Why?"
"Just... wondering something."
"Uh... our manager called it '15 Tails of Trauma'. She... really likes puns."
"Wait, you were in that?" Brian's peering at you became steadily more confused.
"Were you... there?"
"Opening night. Some work friends went with me. I seem to remember a couple of tigers. Were you the doctor in that hospital scene?"
"Y-Yeah," your surprise had peaked along with your ears.
"Dang, so that's why I didn't recognize you! You sounded completely different."
"So... you saw it?" The redness burnt through your fur at an astonishing rate. "Sorry you had to sit through that." You let out a short, embarrassed giggle. "Must've been pretty boring."
"Liar."
"Huh?"
"You said you were the weakest actor. You're a liar," the Rottweiler explained with utter deadpan. "I didn't even realize that was you until you told me. You look and sound completely different."
"How-" You gulped. "-How so?"
"It's only a theory, but you might be a great actor," Brian said completely seriously just before a long sip of coffee. I still don't believe you laughed at that, but apparently you did.
"You're..." You paused, swallowed, then continued with caution. "You're not so bad yourself."
"Oh, I'm no actor," Brian giggled like a pup on Christmas. "A total flirt? Yes. Bit of a pervert? I admit it. Guy with a thing for cute tigers?"
He startled you by moving his head closer and narrowing his expression hungrily.
"Guilty."
You were lost in a sea of smiles and blushing. Your natural urges to resist the compliments were crumbling from the canine's advances.
"I'm sure you change that 'thing' from fur to fur," you implied with an edge to your regular monotone.
"Only when I really like 'em."
"So..." That cute grin was getting wider and cuter by the second. "Bit of a pervert?"
"Just a bit. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some pick-up artist desperate to get into your pants, then dump you on your seat. I am quite the intimate piece of sexy dog once you get to know me. But, I will look at eye candy if on display."
"What kind of guys do you like?"
"Look in a mirror, cute stuff."
"Seriously."
"I am being serious. I ain't no saint, boy. I admit it, I don't feel like I should settle. Which is why I broke up with... the fox this morning. He was cute at first, but he got annoying real fast."
"Oh..." Your ears fell as you took another chomp on the eggs. Since your emotions were breaking through the more you talked with him, I'm assuming you looked a tad worried.
"Contrarily, you were cute at first. And you're only getting cuter." I think we can officially say your full name is: Chris 'the blusher' Caelum by this point.
"Um... not to fish for compliments... but how so?" you wondered aloud.
"Hmmm," Brian mumbled as he peered at you with a peculiar, almost scientific, look about him. "The ears." You tilted your head. "They're very expressive. I'm having trouble getting an emotion out of you, but those ears are a dead giveaway. Very cute."
Your ears perked and you sighed, realizing what they were doing. Brian's grin gained some teeth.
"Sorry," you droned.
"What for?"
"Not... emoting. I know it's frustrating... everyone says so."
"No need to apologize for that." You tilted your head further, puzzled at his acceptance. "I understand. My little brother's the same as you. It's not always easy, but I pick up on the little things. Like the ears, for instance. You don't even try and hide the blushing at all. And, oh my, your tail. I see it swishing and swashing back there." You grumbled and put your chin in your paws, disheartened that you weren't able to hide anything. "However, more subtle is the nose. It crinkles just a bit when you're holding back a laugh."
"Are you gonna tell me that a single piece of fur under my eye twitches when I'm sad, next?"
"No, it does that when you're happy." He stuck out his tongue for a moment. "My point is that I get why you do it. You don't smile because you don't want to or it requires effort which could be used for something else. Nothing wrong with being quiet if you want to be quiet. I won't mind. That is, if you want to take this further."
You glared at the remaining waffle as if it held the answers to life's meaning within its fluffy insides. Your tail looped over itself, your thoughts a mingling of mysteries to even Brian's keen observation. You rubbed your headfurs, a headache like no other likely entrenched within your brain. You remained this way for a few minutes. Brian sipped his coffee patiently with his kind smile. Finally, you tilted your head up with the shadow of a lost kitten suddenly possessing your face.
"This is... difficult." You grumbled much like said kitten. Huffs of frustration shot from your maw between words. "I don't... I can't..."
"It's okay," Brian replied with that compassionate paw coiled around yours, his steady digits clasped at your twitchy fingers. "Take your time."
You took a deep breath.
"I'm not... quiet and... unexpressive all the time because of that. I... I want to... say things... I... just feel... every time I say anything I just end up making things worse for everyone somehow. I always push them away. I'm... I feel stuck. If I say anything... furs hate me. If I don't... they think I'm stupid or boring or that there's something wrong with me. My acquaintances- I'm sure they think so too. So... I... just do things rather than say anything. It's never clear, but it's better than them-"
"-than them what?" Brian inquired. He hadn't moved at all since you began and he didn't look like he would anytime soon.
"Sorry. That's me droning on. See why I don't talk much?"
"All I see is a clever tiger who's very afraid." Your eyes flashed to him with the usual amount of expression as he clamped your paw between both of his. "And one who's been hanging around the wrong furs if that's his outlook on them."
"It's not them, it's me."
"And if you don't mind, I'm gonna time out how long it takes to change your mind in my head."
"Don't bother with the effort," you scoffed. He laughed languidly, almost sarcastic about it.
"Oh... I'm good. It's not gonna take much effort. In fact, it'll be my pleasure."
Without warning, he reached over the table, yanked at your shirt collar, and pulled you in for a kiss. His tongue met yours, a considerate guest within your maw. It wrestled gently with yours, lapping against it lovingly. At first your eyes widened and you instinctually tried to pull away. His eyes stared smugly at yours before they completely shut as the lupine devoted his energy into giving your tongue the massage it deserved.
Then, you surrendered. Your paw wrapped around the back of his head to pull your muzzles closer together. Maybe it was in a moment of spontaneous passion. Or in an instant of need or weakness. However, I have an inkling about what it might have been. And frankly, it's simple to see; because I know you, Chris.
Brian separated your lips with an audible pop. The jolly dog chuckled.
"That face is priceless, just so you know," he said. He was, of course, referring to your lips still kissing the air, your puckering face frozen in space. You pulled back quickly, looked away, and rubbed your head in embarrassment. "Is that gonna happen every time I kiss you? Because this'll be very enjoyable if it does."
"Don't look at me," you shot back. You threw your face into your paws as tortured chuckles escaped your maw.
"Sorry Chris. You're the only thing in this room worth looking at," he snarked.
"I disagree," you said softly, perhaps half-hoping he wouldn't hear. No dice.
"Was that flirting I heard?"
"No," you said with boredom etched in your tone.
"Is that so? Well, if it was, it would need work."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah. It's a good thing it wasn't flirting. Let me know when you're gonna start."
"Can you do me a favor?"
"Sure."
"Stop being an ass."
"Whoa-ho!" Brian banged a paw against the table as if he were some drunk fan in a sports bar. According to Brian, you smirked smugly. I believe it... hesitantly. "Oh, I think I'm gonna enjoy your company, Christopher." He broke out the fake British accent on that one.
"Just remember," you paused as you reached under the table with your tail to brush against his knee. "You brought it on yourself."
"Duly noted."
"So... Brian?"
"Yessum?"
"You into anything besides making good waffles?"
"Hmmm, myself, eh? There's an interest we share."
"Heheh."
"Hey, a genuine giggle. I'm getting somewhere. Now, as for me, I'm where I want to be for the most part. I'd really like my own restaurant, but sous-chef is good enough for now."
"Sous-chef. Not bad at all."
"You turned on by power or something?"
"Don't push it," you laughed. "Sous-chef isn't bad, but it isn't powerful either."
"Is that a yes then? I might have stuff for that if you're into it?"
"No."
"Ah, well, worth a shot. Well, not much to say besides cooking. S'my life. Momma raised a chef." He chugged down the last of his coffee and released a satisfied, "Ahhhh," when finished. "And all on her own too. None too shabby."
"Oh..." The awkward nature of what he just said darted your eyes for you.
"Heheh, don't even worry about it. If she didn't, might not even be gay. It's all very Freudian."
"I need to get used to you, don't I?"
"Most definitely," mused the Rottweiler. "I suggest starting with dinner and a movie."
"You cooking?"
"If you like."
"Y'know what I have to say to that?"
"What?"
You pushed back your chair loudly over the hard wood flooring and marched towards the flirt. You then threw yourself over him, squeezing around his broad shoulders tightly. He curled a tender arm over your back, patting it ever so lightly.
"Thank you," you shuddered.
"No problem, Chris. Now. Do me a favor now that I've mostly stopped being an ass."
"Yeah?" You felt something poke at your abdomen. You looked down to find Brian jabbing you with his cell phone using his free arm.
"Number? So I can bug you in increasingly embarrassing situations?"
Without a word, you took the phone in your quivering right paw. The left reached to hand him your own device. You tapped the ten digits in, banishing all second thoughts. Just as he was doing the same, the phone rang in his hands.
"Sorry," you blurted out as you took it back. You glanced quickly at the caller I.D. The arc in your lips reversed. "Sorry. Need to take this."
"Alright. I'll clean up." Brian piled the many dishes into his arms as you departed into the corner of the living room to take the message, sitting down on the plush, black and white sofa. You hit answer and held the phone up to your peaked ears.
"Hey... Vic."
"Chris! H-Hey! I'm really so, so sorry about last night! It was my fault, and-"
"Please don't worry about it, Vic. I'm really okay."
"Geez, I was so worried about you. Please, can I... would you be okay to meet me today? I... really want to see you."
My morning was different from yours in a number of ways. Similar only in that I was worried sick about what a certain feline would think of me. When my car skid to a stop in front of the theater, I was surprised cops weren't hot on my trail. I must've gone triple the speed limit on my way over. I burst through the front doors and dashed past the lobby and entered the main stage area, panting and completely out of breath.
"Y'know," I cringed when that familiar, sarcastic voice pierced my eardrums. "I just cleaned that floor."
"Hey Ellen." I replied with your monotone which I had gotten to know so well. In a puzzlingly flirtatious fashion, she had her legs crossed in a seat in the front row as she typed away at the keyboard on her phone. "Where is he?"
"He left."
"He... He left...?"
"Yep."
"And... you just let him?"
"Okay, I lied. I made Chris clean the floor before he went."
"You let him go?"
"You are astonishingly good at listening. And repeating."
"This is not a fucking joke, Ellen!" I roared, my insides scorched in rage. "Chris could seriously hurt himself! Do you have any common sense at all? Where'd he go?"
"Mark's apartment."
"You let him go see Mark?!"
"Again, you're a fantastic listener. Bravo."
"Ellen!"
"I'm not his mother and neither are you. And for your information, he didn't go to see Mark, he went to find Mark's new boyfriend."
"Why did he-?"
"He just said... confirmation. That's the reason. Don't quite understand, myself."
"Then why in the hell did you-?"
"Because he asked. I wanted to go with him. He insisted and he promised to text me every five minutes." Her phone beeped. "See?"
"And you just... let the suicidal tiger go?"
"He promised and I trusted him. Don't you?"
That shut me up.
"Hey, Vic... listen..." she started up again and finally turned away from her phone. The mouse smiled at me and nodded towards the seats. I knew she wouldn't continue until I did what she desired, so like the good trained boy I was, I saw down, arms crossed. "It's not like I don't understand. He told me about what happened the other night and I want to ask a question. Why didn't you tell me?"
"He... He did it for very, very personal reasons."
"I know. He told me."
"He... He did?"
"Yup. I've... never seen him so emotional. Point is, you should've told me sooner. Don't you think it's better for more friends to gather around him and make him feel good? Not just you?"
"Yeah, but-"
"Do you think it's better to take him out on a date so soon after his first breakup so that he can get confused and upset and run off?"
"It wasn't a date, Ellen. I just didn't want him to be alone."
"So you took him to see a hockey game, then dinner, and afterward a movie? Just the two of you? Together? Think it might remind him of what a relationship feels like? No? Just me? Yeah, can you see why a group thing might've been better?"
My face was burning and my stomach freezing. If I had a counterargument, I was too tired to think of it. I rubbed my heavy lids, the will to carry on in a fruitless battle of snappy comebacks with Ellen deformed into a foggy, sleepy migraine that weighed on my mind like a boulder.
"You look like hell," Ellen eloquently observed. "How long have you been up?"
"Oh God, dunno."
"Well, don't drive home tonight. There's a reason we've got a couple beds here, y'know."
"Not yet." I said simply as I stretched my feline limbs with a yawn. "Gotta make sure Chris is okay."
As if on cue, I felt my phone vibrate in my jeans pocket. It was in my paw before movement was even registered by my sluggish brain. I found one new text and the overworked organ in my chest just about ruptured when I saw your number.
'Hey Vic. I'm still really sorry about tonight. I shouldn't have done that, I was being whiny and stupid and I hope you can forgive me. I'm gonna be going to bed soon, and again, I'm sorry.'
Enraged by your self-deprecation, I attempted a reply, but when I saw that I had started said reply with a period and several semicolons, I decided it might be better to respond in the morning.
"Come on, let me drive you home," Ellen forcefully offered as I felt her paw encircle my free wrist. "You're a wreck."
With a weak snarl, I put my phone back in my pocket as I trudged to the car, my legs feeling like led. I even dozed off as Ellen drove me home like a tuckered out kit. It's not something she's let me live down. I hardly cared when I marched through my apartment's front door and passed out on my bed without a thought of brushing my teeth crossing my mind. However, I had decided on one thing. First thing in the morning, I'd call you. And at the very least, explain why I froze up. I owed you that much.
But for the moment: Sweet Sleep.
Thank you very much for reading.
I dearly hope you're still enjoying. I've been through a nasty bit of writer's block, but I've resolved myself to try and write something every single week. You might see these, you might not, but thank you for reading my work nonetheless. I don't deserve you, dear reader.
_Your pal, Koryn. _