Well it's me again, The Cool Kat. I'm back with the follow-up I promised. This short work is listed as a chapter, but it's more of a one-off drabble. Continuity wise it takes place in the same summer as the last fic, only a few weeks after Chance and Jake's first date.
Chapter 1: Pain.
Keith always wondered how wiping your oily paws on an already oil rag actually helped any, but whether it made sense or not that's just what Chance Furlong (one of two mechanics Keith always went to go for a good, quality tune-up) was doing at the moment.
The tabby who he trusted most with his vehicle handed him his keys, while his partner Jake Clawson walked back to their office. Well, less of walking, more of limping for some reason. Wincing with every other step he took. So Keith actually was only half-listening to what Chance was telling him (the observations he had made about his car), since his attention was focused mostly on Jake, tracking the orange-furred tom as he moved across the garage, grabbing the necessary paperwork.
The former enforcer handed him what he needed to sign and then went right back to his office; Keith absentmindedly scrawling down his signature as he went. The only thing left to do was pay Chance and then he could go. Except, their loyal customer felt he couldn't go yet. Not when he was so worried. He had to say something before he went.
"Uh, is he okay?", he asked, pointing at Jake, who both kats could see through the office window rummaging through the fridge.
The tom's partner grinned. "He's just a little sore", he replied, unconcerned.
"He's been working too hard?", Keith guessed.
"More like playing too hard", Chance snorted.
Keith raised his eyebrow, confused by what he meant.
Seeing so, Chance quickly elaborated. "He goes horseback riding in his spare time. Rode a little too hard for too long the last time, and he's still feeling it today if you know what I mean", Chance explained.
"Ah", Keith said, relieved and satisfied. "That's too bad. I hear being saddle-sore is a real pain in the ass… literally", the kat sympathized.
Chance's toothy grin returned. "It is", he said.
"Well tell him I hope he feels better soon", Keith said, turning around and finally walking towards his car.
"I will", Chance replied, watching the feline climb into his Chevy and start up the engine.
Once the man had backed out of the garage and drove out of sight, the tabby allowed himself to laugh about just how close he had come to spilling the beans, and went to go see just what his partner was up to.
He'd lied of course.
In reality, he and Jake got a little too rough, a little too into things the night before, and Jake (being unfortunate enough to have been the bottom at the time) wounding up paying the price for their overenthusiasm.
When Jake woke up with a sore ass the next morning, Chance's first reaction was to snicker (he bit his tongue to keep from doing so). And then his second one was to apologize, but Jake wasn't angry at him. Apparently some of the enforcers he'd hooked up with in the past had gotten carried away every now and then too, and vice versa. Chance just didn't want to know which ones.
To his surprise, Jake was actually leaving their office cubicle by the time he made it there, an ice-pack in hand.
"I thought he'd never leave", the kat grumbled, heading for the stairs.
Chance had no idea whatsoever how that bag of ice was going to help soothe his aching butt. Not unless Jake planned on sitting on it.
Now that he had to see.