The Open Door
#17 of Hockey Hunk Season 6
Knock knock, who's there....
The Open Door
*
Hello, dearies,
and welcome to the latest chapter in the ongoing saga of The Hockey Hunk, my furry "soap opera" of sorts, with varying amounts of drama and mischief happening for your amusement and frustration, I'm sure, but that's how it works. *chuckle* I am happy that so many of you still tune in, and read your feedback with delight. I'm also extremely pleased that my comments backlog has been resolved, and I am now keeping it up to date. Do remember that I read all the comments as soon as they come in, and even if it takes me some time to reply, I do come back to each of them. *smiles* So once again, thank you for your continued support and feedback, it means a lot to me!
As always, remember that votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!
Have an interesting read, and have fun!
Cheers!
*
Perhaps it was a kind of an act of masochism, knocking on that door.
"Come in! It's open!"
_ _
Indeed.
I turned the door handle with my elbow and opened it to admit myself into the musty room. All that dust...countless books and papers and skin cells...and a lion sitting behind his desk, muzzle raised in greeting from a computer screen he was no doubt perusing.
"Sinclair!"
"Nicholas," I rumbled through my mask, "Faye Junior..."
Nicholas purred and winked at me.
"Peter," he said, "Brian Sinclair..."
How very smart of him.
"Hello, Nicholas, I said.
He got up from behind his desk and was storming towards me in a flail of tail, ears and groomed mane and only a defensively folded arm kept him from smacking his own arms all over me. He stopped with what surely would've accounted to comical skidmarks in a cartoon, and instead only bowed to me in greeting.
How Nicholas.
"Excuse me, excuse me!" he vocalized intensely. "I forget."
"You are forgiven," I replied softly.
"Oh my dear friend, I'm still sorry I was overstep some boundaries!" he pleaded with me. "I do apologize."
"I'm used to it," I said, "especially from you."
"Hmmm..." he did not sound too happy, but his smile soon brightened again. "How are you, Sinclair? Popping by to see your old friend?"
"I was in the vicinity," I used the corny line with great deliberation.
"How nice," Nicholas beamed.
"I had a meeting with Professor Hartnell," I said. "I thought I'd drop by you as well."
"Coming to see old Bill?" Nicholas smirked. "Oh, he's such an inspiration, isn't he?"
On a first name basis now, Nicholas? How unusual of him. How very show-off of him.
"He gives me a job," I said, "I appreciate that a lot. Gets me out of the house."
"Oh, indeed..." his ears started to droop, "how are you doing? Are you well? As good as can be expected?"
I didn't want to go there, but it was inevitable that furs would be curious and interested about my Frankenstein-like existence.
"Yes, I am...well," I said. "Nothing unusual is going on."
"Well that's splendid!" Nicholas murmured.
"It's as good as it gets," I said. "I will not complain."
"Indeed...indeed..." he nodded energetically.
"I am all set with Professor Hartnell now, however," I explained to him, "just thought I'd see what you are up to."
"That's very kind of you," Nicholas smiled again. "I was simply looking through some materials for my sociolinguistics course I'm starting in a couple of weeks. There's been quite the turnout for it, so I'm hoping it will be splendid!"
"I'm sure," I said. "Based on your code switching research?"
"Oh, of course!" he grinned. "The example of the bilingual English and Spanish speakers shall be a carrying force, but of course we will be looking at other things, too, other immigrant communities and the basic research, of course."
"Sounds like you are having fun," I noted.
"Certainly!" he murmured resonantly. "It is a pleasure to be doing some proper work for once. And teaching, of course, is always a pleasure. All the young furs are so stimulating, it really gives you the energy to aspire to be better at what I do!"
"So you enjoy teaching?" I questioned.
"Of course!" he beamed. "I do love doing my research, but working with the young furs is such a pleasure. Gives spring to my steps."
"It is good to see you do well," I said.
His smile tightened a little, but persisted.
"I am doing my best," Nicholas stated as he sat down onto a corner of his desk that was not overflowing with papers and folders and other academic paraphernalia. "At least I would like to think so."
"Have the police contacted you?" I asked. "Any news?"
He shrugged.
"They are looking at security camera footage from the nearby areas to see if there's anyone who fits my description of the assailants," he explained, "but nothing conclusive has come to light yet. They promised to keep in touch if anything new comes up, of course, but I have no high hopes for it. The police say that these kind of assaults are relatively difficult to resolve if they are not immediately captured."
"So it must be," I said, "and now they are still on the loose there...in my neighborhood..."
"I am most worried by the fact that it was mere children, really," Nicholas said, "they couldn't have been much older than 18 years old, if even that."
"I've never accepted youth as an excuse for stupidity," I said, "I did enough stupid things to know."
"We live in times of the opposites," Nicholas mused, sounding less exuberant than before, "on the other paw, there is so much more freedom...and on the other, it also lets the opposition to voice their opinions...sometimes more violently than ever before."
"You got away," I said, "that's what matters."
"My bruises have healed," he said, "my faith...not so much, yet."
I almost wanted to hug him.
"Guess this is the shitty part of this who business," I said, "being social pariahs, that is."
Nicholas chuckled.
"That's particularly acerbic of you, Sinclair," he said, "I am impressed."
"I've no problems with myself but sometimes I have a problem with other furs' problems with me and others like me, sure," I replied calmly, "it seems so very pointless sometimes."
"Feeling the urge to take onto the barricades?" Nicholas suggested, still perched onto the corner of his table, legs swinging slowly back and forth while looking at me with a bemused look.
"I am not an activist," I said, "never was."
"I have never felt much of an urge, myself," Nicholas mused, his muzzle yawning in a most feline manner, "I've always thought that the best I can do is to lead by example."
What kind of an example indeed...his manicured nails, groomed mane, brown shiny leather shoes, purple corduroy pants and a tan-colored silk shirt with a brown waistcoat...with shiny buttons.
"Not a bad aspiration," I commented diplomatically.
"Definitely not," he said as he hopped back onto the floor and settled behind his desk, which left me standing there in what little space there was with all the archived material and the guest chair, which I was not keen to sit on.
"I am very happy to see you, Sinclair," he said, then, "It has been a while since Gliese's party with his companion and his delightful brother."
I couldn't help but smile, thinking into that carnival of disasters and excessive amount of beer.
"Quite so," I said.
"I had a wonderful time!" Nicholas purred. "I was only talking about it the other day with Demetrius."
I snuffled a little at the mention of the otter.
"Ah," I said. "The otter."
"That's him!" Nicholas smirked.
I scratched my arm.
"So, are you seeing him?" I asked.
Nicholas' eyes seemed to flash a little with something that was hard to name, an emotion, perhaps, curiosity, more like, but his smile did not falter. In fact, he giggled, folding his paws behind his head while leaning back on his chair.
"Oh, no, no, we are just friends, we've known each other for so long," he murmured, "besides, he's helping me with my amateur musical project, surely I told you about that!"
"About your Cabaret, yes, but not about your friend's involvement, no," I said.
"Well, you probably don't know besides being a bartender, he's also a trained makeup artist," Nicholas told me, "he has been helping me the with makeup design for Cabaret."
"That's kind of him, "I said.
"He's made wonderful, creative designs," Nicholas grinned, "and he has eager helpers among our team, so he hasn't had to do everything himself. Even the boys are eager to put on the paint, heheh!"
Somehow that did not surprise me at all, considering what kind of boys usually took part in that kind of productions.
"Sounds like a lot of fun," I said.
"Splendid fun!" his ears perked. "You must come to see our show when we put it on in a month or so! We're performing at the University Hall."
"Perhaps I will," I rumbled, "we'll see."
"You must come!" He clapped his paws together suddenly. "It'll be so much fun! Let's invite Gliese and Mr. Holden as well! And maybe, what's-his-name, that fox friend of yours from the party!"
I cringed a little.
"That would be Victor's friend, Tate," I said, "and he is not my friend. We have not talked since."
"Awww..." Nicholas pouted.
"He's going through a lot, I've heard," I said, "I don't think he needs me to get involved."
"Well that's a pity," Nicholas said, "I'm sure some company would do you well."
There was no company that could help with the kind of loneliness I felt, and I was not about to start lecturing Nicholas about that fact or that state of affairs.
"Perhaps," I said, "but I don't think he is the one, though."
"Then we should go somewhere sometime!" Nicholas smiled again. "A dinner, or a movie, or to the park...somewhere outside...weather is still lovely, and we could make a beautiful evening out of it."
"I don't do somewhere outside," I replied curtly, "not anymore."
His expression faltered somewhat, but soon recovered.
"Well that is unfortunate," he said, "but doesn't mean it has to be that way. We could make an evening out of it at your place, or mine. I could cook for you, bring a DVD..."
I snorted, my mask bulging at the brush of air.
"That all sounds lovely but I'm not sure it's a good idea," I said quietly.
"Why not?" I said. "I quite enjoy your company, and we always have a lot to talk about, don't we?"
I tensed.
"We've done more than talking," I said.
Now his expression changed, again.
"I don't see a problem with that," he mused, paws flexing over the tabletop now. "I don't expect anything more than talk and company, though if you would prefer...I would not say no."
"Really?" I grunted.
"While I have certainly mellowed from my wilder years..." he started in an annoying tone, "we are still two unattached men with sexual interests that could be sated with mutual consent."
I snorted again.
"I'm not quite that desperate, Nicholas, no offense," I replied tersely. "And knowing how the previous time turned out."
Nicholas let out a nervous giggle.
"I don't think us having sex had anything to do with me getting gay bashed," he said, "you can't see it from the face that someone's recently engaged in Greek acts."
Sometimes he was just infuriating.
"Well you were there because of me," I said.
"You can't blame yourself, I had asked to meet you, so when you asked me, of course I came!" he said.
"I'm not blaming anyone," I said.
"Why do I get the feeling that you regret our rendezvous, Sinclair?" his head was tilted quizzically.
"Perhaps I do."
"Well I don't see why you should," he spoke, "such things sometimes happen between friends and they don't have to be taken for anything else than what they are."
That sounded awfully cold. It also sounded awfully real, too. I had encountered it before. Maybe I had felt the same, too.
"No hard feelings, Sinclair," he said. "I can enjoy your company in any capacity, and would like to in the future as well, if you prefer so."
I sighed.
"I'll have to think about it," I said.
"Well you know where to find me!" he smiled again. "The door is always open wide, so to say!"
"Yeah," I breathed.
*
Thank you for reading my story!
I hope you had a fun time reading, and I look forward to reading your comments! Also remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well! Thank you!
See you on Monday!
Cheerio!