This idea came from a stupid joke id thought of, don't even have a name for it as of now, but let's see how it goes. I wanna get back to writing in this series, and maybe do a multi-writer story or some remakes, but will start with this.

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Sleeping Dogs
Chapter 1: Only Us

"I see through your eyes
You breathe with my lungs
I strain with your ear to make out
The words your mother sung
I bless with your hand (I bless with your hand)
You pray on my knees (you pray on my knees)
It's my blood in your veins
And your heart is beating in me"
-Thrice

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"Hello?"

"Hey, Nan," he said, holding the phone up to his ear with his left hand while holding the basket with his right, "I'm here at the store, what's the plan for dinner?"

The voice let out a long sigh, "I told Chuck we'd come to his place. He's having everyone come over for the season finale of Dr. Mouse M.D."

"Right," he said, walking away from the shelf where numerous cases of beer were organized and moved to where the harder drinks were stacked, "What time is it?"

"I said we'd be there about six."

Dropping the basket and pulling a bottle of Jackalope Slim's Authentic Barrel Aged Whiskey down, he looked it over for a moment, eventually returning it and grabbing a much larger size.

"Wow, Ol' Cuddles throwing a late night party on a work night."

"It doesn't start until seven, I'm betting soon as it's over he'll start trying to rush people out."

Nodding, he placed the bottle in the basket and continued walking, "What should we bring? Carrot cake?"

The quiet laugh that replied told him she was still at work, "No, no, whatever you think."

"Sushi it is."

"Oh, hey," she said, her tone changing slightly, "Hold on a second."

He stopped for a moment, listening to her footsteps change from a soft thud to a loud tap, followed by clunk of a door handle. He could picture where she was walking now, left from her office toward the stairwell.

After hearing the stairwell door slam shut, he knew she was looking up and down the floors.

"Look, Fred's going tonight, and you better be sure she's coming with."

Sighing, he turned and walked back to the whiskey display.

"I know, I know, but you can't be starting shit with him every time you see them both together.

"Yeah, yeah," he said loudly to cover the clink of the bottles as he picked up the basket again, "It'll be fine."

"I get it, you're both bears. Tempers run high, but," another sigh, "its old news. We're together now, and he's dating your ex. You should feel sorry for him."

"You're right, I'll be the perfect gentleman."

A faint beep came through the phone, "Hold on, I have another call."

Hearing the line go completely quiet, he turned on the speaker and slid the phone into the pocket of his shirt.

'What did I come in here for?' he asked himself, looking over his basket of liquor.

Looking over the freezers in the deli, he dropped several packs of sushi into his basket and hesitated when he reached the meat section.

His eyes darted between packs of steak, his heartrate rising slowly until it was a deafening thump in his ears. As much as he tried to avoid it, he still had to face it. Nanette of course still ate meat, a habit he hadn't tried to change. Of course she didn't know the reason for his phobia, so she always teased him about it.

"Hey, change of plans," her voice boomed back to life, snapping him away from his trance-like state, "We're having the party at our place."

"Seriously?" he asked, looking down at his watch, "It's already five-thirty."

"I guess there was a fire in the apartment across from Chuck's, his is safe, but there's fire crews going in and out."

"Fine, fine. Pizza?"

"Yeah," she said as the footsteps returned, "None of that vegan crap, get a few of each. Chuck and Giggles are gonna bring everything they'd bought."

"Alright, let me get off here and I'll go get everything set up."

"Ok, see you in a bit."

"See ya," he said as he slid the phone back in his pocket and returned to the liquor isle.

"I'm gonna need a bigger basket."

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"Alright, four triple meats and one," the delivery driver began, holding four boxes of steaming pizzas but pausing to look at the order, "Vegan for Martin."

Handing him the cash, Martin took the pizzas and stepped back from the door.

"I know the feeling," the delivery guy said as he counted the money, "Having a girl who don't eat meat."

Stifling a growl, he nodded in agreement.

"I mean, last week I bought the biggest, juiciest steak you've ever seen. I get up early for work, make the marinade myself, cut up some onion and cloves. Put the whole thing in the fridge and ask her to cook it before I get home."

Handing Martin extra cash back, he nodded and raised it when it was refused. Adding the tip to his wallet, he continued while writing the receipt.

"Of course I come home and all she says is: It was all bloody, I thought it had gone bad so I threw it out."

Taking the receipt, Martin shook his head, "That sucks."

"Yeah," he said, "But that's just the way it goes. You have a good night, sir."

"You too."

Fighting the urge to slam the door, he carried the pizzas into the kitchen and set them on the bar dividing the living room. Taking a final glance to make sure everything was set up, he grabbed the remote for the flat screen TV.

"In other news, a fire erupted in a downtown apartment building sending the inhabitants scurrying for the street. The fire was quickly quenched causing minimal damage to the apartment as well as neighboring apartments."

'Wait,' he thought for a moment, 'Who used to live there?'

His vision dropped to the floor and he continued running through memories, nothing more than a silhouette of the owner coming forward. The outline of a bear with long hair, maybe a tinge of color starting to appear.

The ringing of the doorbell was nearly deafening as he jerked free from his trancelike state. Opening the door revealed Nanette and Giggles carrying a handful of bags.

"Hey Gigs," Martin said as he took their bags and stepped back for them to enter.

"Hey, thanks so much for letting us have the party here."

Placing the bags on the counter, he returned to the door where Cuddles was walking up with the last of the bags.

"Hey Chuck."

Stopping to set the alarm on his car, he let out a sigh, "Hey, Marty. Thanks for letting us set up here. You won't believe the day we've had."

Sighing at the nickname, he closed the door, "I can imagine."

As he started walking away from the door, the bell chimed. Turning to open the door again, he stood silently for a moment, as if expecting someone else to come running up the path.

Sensing the tension, Toothy pushed past Flippy and Flaky while patting Martin's shoulder.

"Hey Nan," he said quietly, hoping Martin hadn't heard, "Damage control."

"Hey guys!" Nanette said, appearing beside Martin.

Flaky's unsure expression soon faded and a smile beamed, "Hey, thanks for having us."

Flippy nodded, his own expression restraining the faint preparation for a fight, "Yeah, we appreciate it."

Martin blew his breath through his nose and nodded, "Any time."

Martin stuck his hand out and did his best to force a smile, secretly hoping for a fight. Flippy looked at the hand a moment before forcing his own less diluted smile, and happily shaking.

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Martin flipped the light switch as he passed through the door, reading a news article about the fire on his phone. The lights flickered for a moment before flashing to life, illuminating the garage in stages. First the lights over the workbench and toolboxes lit, then bank after bank from the back wall until the garage door and vehicle lift were clearly visible. A nearby radio crackled briefly before spewing the contents of its CD through the speakers spread across the garage.

"Sources say the fire that forced the evacuation of the fifteenth street apartments was quenched within twenty minutes of ignition, causing minimal damage to the twelve neighboring apartments on the fourth floor," he read aloud as he stepped down the short staircase and crossed to the workbench.

"The investigation was ended, ruling no foul play was involved. Instead, the blaze was triggered by a faulty pilot light in the gas oven. The apartment was not in use during the fire, and no one was injured."

Closing the news article, he set his phone aside and shuffled through the auto repair manuals from the bookshelf above the bench before pulling down a red scrapbook.

'Strange,' he thought as he began flipping through the pages, 'The article didn't mention the apartment number.'

He stopped at a section with a titled cover page in neatly colored letters reading 'Cuddles Moving Day!'

Turning to the next page, he was met with a taped down photo of Cuddles and Giggles carrying boxes through the front door of their apartment. The angle of the picture showed down the hallway, more apartment doors spaced out evenly. A plaque on the wall displayed the directions of the apartments, 401-407 to the left, 409-413 to the right.

He had begun to turn the page but stopped and looked back. The plaque had skipped room 408, as if it didn't exist at all.

Grabbing his phone, he quickly typed into the search bar, 'Reasons apartments skip room numbers.'

The first page he found listed several reasons, the first being a room being set specifically for demonstrating the floor and furniture layout of the real apartments to a potential renter or lessee. The second reason was the possibility of a room being decommissioned as a need for storage or emergency housing.

Checking the next three pages found the same results, so he closed his phone and turned back to the book. The next photo was of the inside of the apartment's main room, Flaky, Nanette, and Toothy were waving from the kitchen where they were stacking glassware in the cabinets. Cuddles and Flippy were in the process of moving a mattress down the hallway.

"Well," came a voice from the stairway, "So this is where the party's at."

Closing the book, he returned it to the shelf and looked to where Flippy was standing, one of the whiskey bottles and two glasses in his hands.

"Mind if I join in?"

"Sure," Martin said, turning down the radio slightly.

Stepping over car parts and tools that littered the corner of the floor, Flippy joined him at the bench and began filling the glasses.

"Not watching the show?"

They both looked up the stairway to where faint sounds of cheering and clapping were echoing down.

"Can't stand that soap opera bullshit," Flippy said, handing Martin one of the glasses.

Calculating the odds of a drunk Martin starting a fight he probably wouldn't win, he sipped from the glass and set it aside.

"So, what've you got here?" Flippy asked as he stepped toward the sports car sitting in between the lift, "Barati, right?"

Martin nodded, genuinely impressed anyone other than him recognized it, "That's right."

"All wheel drive, or front?"

"All wheel," Martin said, picking up his glass and walking over, "It's got the less powerful engine, but it's got enough done to it to equal the bigger one."

Flippy whistled as he looked from front to back, then leaned to the side and whispered, "Mind if I take a look?"

Setting his glass on the roof, which was low enough to be at his waist, he reached in the driver door and hit the release for the hood. Instead of using the roof, Flippy set his drink on one of the cross beams of the lift, then fumbled for the latch and raised the hood.

Stepping back, he looked over the engine nearly dumbfounded, eyes scanning back and forth several times, each time seeing something else catch his attention.

"None of my business," Flippy began, "But what do you do for a living?"

Grabbing his glass, Martin downed it and returned to the bench to refill it, "Psychiatric advisor to the Acorn City P.D."

"Little young, aren't you?"

Setting the bottle down, he took a gulp from his glass, "Too young."

"Hey, I didn't mean-"

Walking back to the car, he shook his head, "Nah, you're right. I'm on leave at the moment, which equates to I work when they ask me too."

Flippy swirled his drink nervously, "Hey, that doesn't sound like a bad deal."

"Right. Just have to see few dead bodies to get it."

A silence began to grow, threatening to extend to the awkward level.

"Anyway," Martin said, "How about you?"

Flippy downed a sizable amount then shrugged, "Little of this, little of that. Working as a mechanic at the moment."

"That's something at least."

Nodding, he began looking over the car again, "I'm starting to get the hang of it."

"Say, what's Cuddles apartment number?"

"Damn," he began, looking up at the ceiling and sighing, "Haven't been there since they moved in. I'm thinking 409."

Martin nodded and looked into his drink.

"Why you ask? They have you looking into the fire?"

Shaking his head, he sighed, "Nah, just curious."

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Cuddles and Giggles walked toward the door, both sniffling and wiping their eyes.

"Do you think Dr. Mouse will ever walk again?"

Cuddles just shook his head and walked through the door, "I don't know, Gigs. I just don't know."

"Hey, thanks for havin' us," Toothy said, stretching his arms over his head as he walked to the door, "I give the finale a B-, but was worth the watch."

"Will be great to see how where they go from here," Nanette said as she held the door open.

"I have some theories, but I'll bore you another time."

Waving, she closed the door behind them and went to join Flaky at the kitchen counter where she was pouring a drink.

"Well, I think this will be the last party I throw for a while."

Flaky handed her a glass and turned around, "Why you say that? It was great."

Looking over the mess that was left to clean, "Too much work involved. Such a long day."

"Everything alright?"

She sighed louder than she planned and rubbed her eyes, "Yeah, everything's fine. We've been working on this big case at work, but can't seem to make any headway on it."

"You're still with Miligant and Monroe?"

A nod, "Still got another year left before they consider partner tracking. Equals about ten hour workdays. Then there's meetings, reports, errands. Martin helps where he can, but he's a brick wall when it comes to anything else."

Flaky spun her drink, "Yeah that sounds about right. Speaking of-"

Nannette looked up, aware that they were missing two of the most combative personalities that attended the showing of Dr. Mouse MD.

"I don't smell smoke," Nanette said, sniffing at the air, "So that's a good sign."

A loud metallic clattering crept its way up the staircase leading to the garage. Nanette and Flaky downed their drinks and set their glasses aside before walking toward the noise.

"Come on, is that all you got?!" preceded another jostling of something heavy being hammered.

Nanette hesitated as she reached for the doorknob, mentally preparing for what they may see on the other side. Flaky lost her footing as she reached the last step and tumbled into Nanette, causing them both to burst through the door.

Martin and Flippy paused from where they were, underneath the sports car which now resided seven feet in the air, and looked to where the two girls were sprawled out on top of each other, confusion and relief painted on their faces.

"Nice of you to drop in," Flippy said, causing a burst of giggling to erupt between the inebriated bears.

Nanette climbed to her feet and dusted off her clothes, "We heard crashing and shouting."

Martin returned to tightening a bolt, "Yeah, butterfingers here was giving me a hand with the transmission and he kept dropping everything."

"You tilted the transmission the wrong way."

"Only because you couldn't line up a bolt hole if it had hair around it," Martin barked back.

"Oh yeah," Flippy began, pausing after a moment of considering the reply, "Anyway, what's up?"

Flaky cleared her throat, "Well, the show ended a little bit ago and it's getting late."

Martin nodded, "I can handle the rest."

Flipped grabbed a rag off one of the arms of the lift and began wiping his hands, "Alright then. Thanks for the lesson."

Grabbing the rag he was tossed, Martin wiped his hand and extended it, "No problem."

A still visibly confused flaky watched as they shook hands, before following Flippy up the stairs.

Seeing the matching expression on Nanette's face, Martin blinked, "Something wrong?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Come on," he began, "You know I get along with everyone."

Nanette sighed and started toward the stairway, "I need another drink."

Martin tossed the rag onto the bench, "Say, what's Cuddles' apartment number?"

She paused for a moment, turning around but looking for the answer behind her eyelids.

"409."

"What number is his nearest neighbor?"

Another pause, "I'd say 410, directly to the right of him. Why?"

Shaking his head, he flipped a light switch under the bench and looked down at the scrap book as the lights began to snap off, bathing him in darkness.

"No reason. Think I might go in to work tomorrow."

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Thanks for reading