Come morning she's still here, seemingly forgotten all about last night, making me breakfast, no less. 
"Good morning to you, had a good night's rest?"
I eye her suspiciously. She places a platter with eggs and bacon on the table, smiling sweetly. Her ‘make up' outfit has been replaced with jeans and t-shirt. It still looks she's wearing clothes that haven't been washed properly, but at least it covers more up then it reveals. I sit down, not taking my eyes off her. 
"Well, eat up. If you don't mind I've started doing the laundry while you were still asleep."
She smiles, sitting down happily across from me, her tail swishing from left to right her dark eyes watching my every move.
"Enjoying your eggs? I made them just the way you like them."
"I still want you to leave before tomorrow." I grunt, while gobbling down the bacon and eggs. If she is annoyed by my remark, she does not show it. She keeps her happy smile on her muzzle, though at the edges of it has become forced.
"About that..." My eyes flicker up pricking her against her seat. "Sweety it's Sunday, and I thought, no, I had hoped to avoid that dreadful switch day rush and maybe go Monday. It is just one more day. You won't even know I am here."
"Switch day is Saturday, and the rush does not start until about four, leaving you four good hours to leave." I decide to be ruthless. She's caught off guard by this new attitude, and rightly so. She eyes me unsure, trying to seek her way out of this. In her mind she sifts through the possibilities, searching for the reason of my behaviour and more importantly how to defuse it. I doubt she realizes it is because I genuinely do not want her, or at least what we had. It is only when I see her searching like this I realize she does not see the dysfunction of what we are doing, does not realize how completely fucked up our relationship was, or is. 

	"But sweetums," she starts. It is a sentence I won't let her finish. Chop the beast off by the neck.
"I'm not your ‘sweetums'. It's over Anne, last night, it should have never gotten as far as it did. That was a mistake. I'm done, I'm through, I won't have you here."
"And is that because you really do not want me, or because you know you do?" She leans on her front paws, elbows resting on the table. She eyes me with a look I know so well, like she is analysing me, understanding me better than I do. It makes me feel dumb. She knows this.
"Because I do not want you." I sound more sure than I feel. She leans forward.
"Oh really?"
"Yes."
Our noses are nearly touching, and a little voice in the back of my head tells me that normally at this moment we would slam our lips together and screw each other's brains out on the kitchen table. I look deep into her eyes. She is expecting it; she is gambling for it. 

	A sudden feeling of revulsion sinks its filthy claws in me. I do not know this vixen. I do not know this... person across the table from me. This is not the girl with whom I went to the prom, with whom I shared long nights in bed, cuddling, exchanging future plans in a whispered tone. This is not her. If someone would come up to me and start telling me it was all a scheme, that she was replaced by the government, aliens or whatnot to mess me up, I would have believed him. 

	I'm trapped. If I pull away now she'd see that as a sign of weakness and she'd never let it go, if I don't, she might make a move and I do not want that either. For now we are like two nuclear powers in a game of chicken, a small stretch of neutral nothingness between us, the only thing keeping us from the full blown Armageddon, and our desire to see the other act first: the only thing stopping us from acting. 

	The doorbell rings. Almost immediately our little standoff ends. I head for the door; she casually starts cleaning the dishes. Trying to shrug of that uneasy feeling I open the door. I blink, stare, my mouth ajar, halfway through a ‘hello, how can I help you'. I have no idea how stupid I look at this moment. In hindsight it is a small miracle no-one calls the cops, or the local mental institute. Not that my expression seems to matter, because two bright blue eyes sparkle happily at the sight of my dumbfounded expression. My mouth moves, much like a fish out of water, trying to say something sensible, but coming up completely blank. 
"H-h-hi..." I manage very eloquently. Right at this moment my beloved ex decides to make her presence known.
"Who is it honey?"

	Like the dutiful housewife she comes strutting in, getting next to me. I can feel her breasts pressing into my arm as I still try to figure out what on earth I should say next. She grabs my arm, smiling as sweetly as poisoned honey tea at the unexpected visitor. 
"Wrong address, I should go." His expression does not change, but that sparkle that was there before is gone. Before my brain can catch up he has turned around and is heading down the hall. I stare after him. 
You stupid cocksucking twat, go after him! This snaps me out of my paralysis. I snatch the keys from the dish by the door. 
"I want you out of my house before I get back." I grumble, snatching my arm away from her grip. Now she looks as stupid as I did a moment ago, watching me when I rush down the hall full speed, storming down the stairs. I catch sight of the tail moving two floors below me. I rush down, jumping the last steps. 
"Wait!" 
I manage to cease him by the arm before he can pick up his pace. He spins around. He looks up at me, trapping me in that gaze of his. I search his eyes, trying to find that thing I saw a moment ago, when I first opened the door. He looks unsure, still trying to make up his mind whether I am friend or foe. 
Say something fuckface!
"Coffee!"
He raises an eyebrow, but does not try to tug his arm free from my grip.
"You want coffee." It isn't a question, it's a statement. Smooth moves moron. His expression is caught somewhere between amused and concerned. 
"I mean..." I shake my head as if trying to shrug of my own stupidity. "I mean do you want coffee, now, with me, get it I mean."
He gives me that look again, that ‘I do not know what is wrong with you, but I'll not ask about that now' look.
"Sure."
"Great."
"But you are going to have to let go of my arm. Someone might think you are trying to kidnap me, and I do not think that is your intention, is it?"
"Oh right, no... I don't think so at least."
A smile breaks through, lighting up that face of his. It makes me wag. 
"My arm."
"Oh right, yeah, sorry." I let go. 
"So where are you taking me?" I realize I have been staring, making an utter fool of myself. 
"Sure, right, errr, this way." 

	I nearly break my neck, stumbling over my own feet, as I head down, moving way too fast causing me to be already at the door when he is still halfway down. I hold the door open for him, trying to pretend that was my intention the whole time. He gives me a slight nod, which makes my tail go almost crazy. Silently we walk down the street and I keep throwing glances in his direction while we do so. He looks so different without his mask, without his mask and with most of his clothes on, and yet... doesn't. He catches me watching him, and smiles, his lips just pulled up high enough to show a bit of teeth, not far enough to freak you the hell out with his canines. I think I'm blushing like a high school pup. I'm not really sure because I feel strange through my whole body, not just my face, or my ears. We provoke stares as we head for a small coffee bar I discovered some time ago, on my quest for good morning coffee, I haven't had time to get the damn coffee maker to work. They stare mostly because of me, most likely, wagging my tail like a moron. 

	The coffee bar is one of those small, brownish establishments that seem to be perpetually covered by a faint trial of smoke, smelling slightly of old decaying cloth and for some reason always decorated with every shade of dark brown they could find. I hold out a chair for him, before hopping over and sitting down across from him. It feels odd sitting across from someone who's more intimate body parts you know, but who's face is new to you. His face does not disappoint in that respect, it is, to me, just as marvellous as his body. Fine chiselled features, covered by soft white fur that is on occasion graced with a small smudge of black that do nothing but enhance the white, his lips in an almost perpetual faint smile that makes me wonder what he is thinking, two ears folded gracefully, one white, one black, only occasionally turning or twitching to home in on some sound, and then there are those two brilliant ice blue eyes that look back with that twinkle of enjoyment. 

	The proprietor, an older hare with fur on his chin so long he can form it into a goatee, clears his throat, again. I start. I have been staring again. It only seems to amuse the pup on the other side of the table. It makes me feel foolish. 
"What would you like monsieur?" The hare asks, with a poorly imitated French accent. "Errr... Coffee."
"What kind of coffee?" He is annoyed, clearly, and has forgotten his act for a moment, revealing his very obvious Tailton accent. 
"Errr..." I look in desperation around me, searching for something to come and rescue me. 
"Same as me, black."
"Very well."
The pup sends me a small laugh, as I let out a sigh of relief. 
"I'm going to use the little pup's room. Be right back." He rises, and my eyes get glued to his behind as he moves past me. I follow him with my eyes as he goes for the lavatories in the back of the business. It is only right before he disappears through the door, I find the smarts to look up and see if he is watching me. He is. He chuckles. 

	"I'm... so... stupid." I let my head fall against the table with a thud. I can't believe I am behaving so... I don't know. I have changed into this blubbering fool. For weeks, no months I have whined to everyone who would listen I would want to meet him again. I have felt miserable because I feared I wouldn't see him again and now I have the chance, that once in a life time opportunity to make a good impression and get what I want and I see it slip through my fingers like sand, only because I cannot stop behaving like some bumbling fool. 
"Why is this happening to me?" I slam my head again and again against the hard surface. 
"Why does what happen?"
"Why do I keep behaving like an idiot? I'm a stumbling moron who just gawks and stares and doesn't even manage to utter a single intellectual remark when I have this wonderful creature sitting across from me."
"You are not doing that bad."
"I'm not? That's new."
Fingers weave themselves through the fur on the back of my neck up until they reach the top. I turn, shocked to find those eyes looking down on me. 
"Nah, you don't need to impress me." He remarks, sitting down on his seat again, not at all phased by my outburst, or by my gawking at him right now. "You're cute."

	I stare. I can't believe my ears. I stare and I keep staring until our coffee arrives. He cradles his cup between his paws, sniffing carefully, before trying a small nip. He hisses. It is still hot.
"And the staring thing, well I don't mind." He tilts his head slightly to the side, making his ears fall to the side. So... cute... "I'm used to people staring."
With the smooth flick of his wrist he has wiped away my concerns as if they are nothing, leaving me baffled. 
"Nothing wrong with enjoying the view," He remarks casually, "I know I am." I giggle, unsure on how to respond to that. He has that twinkle in his eyes again. And suddenly I feel watched, and although it is not a completely uncomfortable way it does make me a tad anxious. 
"So what kind of intellectual remarks were you trying to make?"
"I... don't know." There is that show of teeth again. "Perhaps I'd... tell you that it is special to see you without anything on your face." 
"Is that a euphemism?"
I smile, my tail swishing happily from left to right, nearly knocking the platter out of the paws of the proprietor. The rest of my body is tenser then a high strung piano string as I desperately try to make a good impression.
 "No, that's not what I... I mean without the mask and all, to be able to really see you, your face. Not that the rest wasn't nice to see, but..."
"It's nice to see you face to face as well, without the secrecy."
I take a long shaky breath.
"I... I really suck at this." I confess, letting go of that believe that I can make a perfect first impression and that the best I can do is me. "Especially with guys, I've never, you know."
"You've never... what?"
"Well... Asked someone out before."
"I'm here aren't I? It seems you haven't done such a bad job."
I chuckle. "That's not what I mean smart ass." In dating, same as in most things, it is best to be just honest about it. "You're my first, this is the first time I've actually been, gone out with, a guy, which I might be interested in... well..."
"Yes?" He seems genuinely amused by my train of thoughts, his tail giving a sharp flick, betraying he might not be wholly affronted by the direction my mind is going.
"'Do'?" I offer, "Is that the proper gay slang?"

	He laughs; I don't think I have heard a more joyous sound. His head falls back baring his long elegant neck to me that disappears into his hoodie. The zipper is down enough to hint at the lack of a shirt underneath. The realization pierces through me. I force myself to meet his eyes. I can see a hint in those eyes of an emotion I have been very familiar with when with him. I tuck this nugget of info away, forcing my mind to other matters, now that I still have the chance. 
"How did you find me?"
This time it is his turn to avoid my gaze as he shuffles nervously with his feet. "Well... I kinda stalked you." He admits. He looks up. "Followed you home from your work one time."
"You know where I work?"
"You told me it was the hottest club in Tailton, not hard to find it. And since you did not look like a giant panda, or like a rabbit, though I do not doubt you would not look to shabby if you dyed your fur white, I figured you would have to be that cute bartender, who kept getting the numbers from all kinds of girls."
It makes my ears burn. "Yeah, well... they do that a lot. We just dump them in a jar... So you followed me."
"To your place. I thought... I thought about ringing, or approaching you. I... I was afraid, I guess, that I would come at an inopportune time... ..."
"You didn't come at an inopportune time."
"Who was she?"
"My ex."
"The one that moaned the other guys name?"
"Yeah."
"She seems nice."
"She's like medusa. I hope you did not look her straight in the eye."
"I managed not to."
"Good. I like you better alive and kicking."
He laughs again.

	For a moment we are quiet. It is not one of those uncomfortable silences, but one that comes easy while we both sip our drinks, which taste great by the way, and just share each other's presence.
"Would you... wanna go see a movie?"
"Now?"
"After we had our coffee. There's a movie theatre not far from here. They are featuring that new action film."
"And that is your best idea?"
I shrug. "Told you I was bad at this."
"Sure, I would like that."


	
For the life of me I cannot remember what the movie was about, not that I was going at great lengths to follow it anyways. Something about a cop or a soldier or a warrior falsely accused of something, or maybe his daughter got kidnapped, anyways travels around goes shooting up the whole place. The theatre was mostly empty, and I kept glancing beside me. He did the same, I think, but we always managed to just miss each other. We have a great time, though we don't utter a word. During the break we talk, I get us some popcorn and sodas, and he tells me about his inability to keep movies apart, so every time he sees one it is new to him. It does not matter how little I know about him, I feel like I have known him for ages. He laughs at my jokes, he laughs when I am being dumb, and he laughs when I try to be witty, but never in a cruel way. Never like Anne who could laugh in a way that makes me feel so stupid, so inferior to her, like when I do not get something or use a word in the wrong way she would laugh in that way. He just laughs because... I don't know, because he laughs, and it makes me feel silly and giddy at the same time, and it doesn't matter anymore. He laughs when I nearly hit the door on the way out because I'm too busy staring at him to pay attention to where I'm going. He laughs when I try to avoid the topic of sex, male on male love, and going out with each other, and fail horribly, falling back to such nonsensical words like 'you know what' and 'well, that thing'. 

	I take him out to dinner to the restaurant not far from my house. It is not one of those fancy shmancy places you have further down town, but it is well within my price range and the food is good. Just as I am about to order someone practically shouts my name. "Rusky? Rusky, what are you doing here?" I look up, slightly annoyed at the sudden intrusion. It's Stannis, one of my old schoolmates. I do not want to deal with this right now. 
"Hi Stannis. I'm having dinner."
"Who's your friend?"
"Well, Stannis this is..." I falter, turning towards the Dalmatian sitting across from me. In all this time I have never asked for his name. That feeling of idiocy creeps up again, tugging at the back of my brain, making my ears turn back. 
"Aeson." He stretches out a paw, which gets greedily accepted by the Rottweiler. 
"Aeson." I repeat, redundantly, "Aeson this is Stannis. We played football together in highschool."
"Pleasure to meet you. So you guys are-"
"Just ordering our food, enjoying a meal, together, just the two of us."
"Errr... right. Well I'm here with my girlfriend, showing her around town."
"I thought she already knew this place."
"New girlfriend."
"Again?"
"Errr... yes. Ah, they found us a seat, well nice talking to you both."
As soon as he is gone: "Nice fellow."
"Won't shut up and cannot realize when he is not wanted even if it could save his life. Walked in on me and my girlfriend as we were right about to... well..." His eyebrow rises inquisitively, "jump each other's bones. Sat down on the couch next to us, would not leave. That is not until I started bringing up his little misfire accident a few weeks before with his latest shag, then he got the hint."
"Maybe he wanted to join."
"I... had not thought about that... nor do I really want to."
"Not the sharing type?"
"Not the shagging just anyone type."
"So that makes me special."
"Very." It comes out with a neediness I did not anticipate, nor wanted to reveal, but as everything he just takes it in his stride. He simply leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, inching closer to me, his gaze digging deep into my eyes.
"Oh really?" His voice is barely a whisper, carrying his soft scent in my direction. I nod mutely, not sure how I want to respond to that, other than do something which is not really appropriate in public.

	"Well, Aeson," I decide on quickly changing the subject, "though a bit late, it would be best if I introduce myself to you, I'm Swiff."
"Pleasure to meet you." He says with a small formal nod. "May I ask why he called you Rusky?"
"A thing Marv started. It's because I'm a Husky and he believed I was from Russia because of my last name. The name kinda stuck even after high school."
"But you aren't."
"Nope, one hundred percent local, home grown Husky mutt. And you, you come from around here?"
"Eh, no, not really." He pushes his ears back, seeming to shrink a size or two.
"You're not some fugitive on the run are you?"
He chuckles. "No, I'm a city dog. Live on the other side of the country. I'm just here on holiday."
"For three months?"
"Well I went home. I'm just here now for a week." Our eyes meet, "it's one of the reasons it took me so long to find you."
"Oh." I hesitate, the silence between us getting a bit awkward. "Well you found me." I reply happily trying to salvage the mood.
"Yes, yes I have."
I keep quiet about the fact that it is just a week, and I still need to work most days and that I cannot possibly see a way to spend half as much time with him as I want to. Forcefully I push those thoughts away. I can worry about that later; let's just worry about this now, about him, being here, in this restaurant, with me, looking as cute as the day I first laid eyes on him. Gods what a blowjob can do to a dog.

	Of course I manage to make a fool of myself before the end of our dinner, by wolfing down my chicken, grabbing it with my paws while nearly attacking it, and only halfway through noticing he isn't even a quarter on the way and using his knife and fork to carve the thing up. My face is covered in gravy and small bits of herbs, while his pristine white fur is just as pristine as it was five minutes ago. Very embarrassed I try to clean my face with my napkin, which of course is complete failure, and ruins it, rendering it unusable for the rest of the date. He chuckles softly, observing me from across the table, calmly continuing with his dinner. I blush.
"I-I-I..."
"Someone is hungry." He remarks casually.
"I... It's good food." As if that is an excuse for my complete lack of manners. 
"It sure is." He sends me a wink as I eye him carefully. I stop myself from imaging those worst case scenario's that already start flying through my brain. Just... take a deep breath, relax. Everything will turn out just the way it was meant to, not what you expected, perhaps, but as it should. 

	We talk, we laugh, we do not pry too much into each other's personal life, but instead lightly hop from one topic of to another, exchanging stories, mostly funny, sometimes embarrassing, and that way we manage to make it well past our dessert, and wear out our welcome. For the third time the waiter eyes us carefully, wondering why on earth we are still here. 
"I think they want us to leave." I remark, getting annoyed that he won't leave us be. He pulls his wallet, I pull mine. 
I wave for the check. The waiter comes over. We both make a grab for that fake leather folder. 
"Please," he says, "let me."
"No its ok I'll-"
He looks at me intently, his eyes boring into mine. "No, please, let me pay for dinner, than you can walk me to your home."
I open my mouth to protest, wanting to insist I'll pick up the check and pay for everything, until I realize his offer. My muzzle snaps shut. He has that mischievous twinkle in his eyes. I let go of the check. He throws a casual glance at the bill, grabs some money and quickly stuffs it in the folder. 
"Ok, let's go." He says, lightly getting up, straightening his clothes. He looks at me, raising his brow questioningly. I'm still seated, staring at him. "You coming?" His lips wrap themselves around those words and my brain picks up every bit of subtext, real or imaginary, in those words. I nod, numbly, nearly tipping my seat over. He waits for me by the door. I grant myself one moment to let my eyes rove over his figure, only one question imprinted on my mind: Do I really want this?
