'We cannot keep doing this.'

Ben bit his lip and nodded.

'And I am getting tired of your mother giving me the 'stink-eye.''

Ben stared down at the ruffled sheets between them, at all the lines of blue that lay scattered over the fabric like a fine layer of dust. 'In all fairness, your fur is itchy and it kind of gets everywhere,' he pointed out. 'You can't exactly blame her for being annoyed.'

'But it is not usually this excessive!' exclaimed Rook, making a wide sweeping gesture with his arm as though to dismiss the evidence. 'And yet in this heat, I cannot help it! I do not cool off as rapidly as a human or any other similarly sparsely-haired life-form does, even when sweating and so my body makes up for it by casting off hairs in every direction!'

'Every direction is right,' Ben muttered, eyeing the bedraggled carpet by the window.

For they had scrubbed and soaked up the smoothie residue with what seemed to be a lifetime's supply of paper towels, and although the fragrance of lost flavours was now dim, covered over with a lemon freshener Rook had retrieved from the airing cupboard, it did nothing to help disguise the newish patches of blue that littered the floor. They lay across the dark bruises of carpet like spokes, the stains beneath still speaking of the moisture that had once clouded Ben's floor. Perhaps someone else would have found the visual effect beautiful; without the mountain of smoothies in the way, the sunlight poured in to light up the hairs like fibre-optic cables. And with their colour, they threaded through the damp spots like rivers, alighting on the worse of the roughed-up carpet like brave explorers parting branches and leaving tracks.

Rook sighed, sitting up to run a hand over his now incredibly sweaty brow. 'Perhaps you were right about taking a break,' he admitted, looking a little sore as he did so. 'Our proximity, at least in your bed, seems to end up with both of us suffering.'

Ben sniggered. 'The sex just isn't worth it, huh?'

Rock knocked a gentle fist against his shoulder, smiling lightly as he did so. 'Ben, be serious.'

'Oh, I am,' Ben said airily, leaning up on his knees to wipe a careful palm against Rook's brow. The moisture brushed his fingers, clinging to his skin with a damp ferocity that he half-expected and though it was unbelievably gross, it also made Rook's smile clamber down into something gentler, so Ben let it pass. You couldn't not share a bed with someone for months and fail to develop a partial immunity to being grossed out by their body fluids, after all.

'And I also know that there are going to be other summers, real scorchers just like this one in the future. And what are we gonna do then? Move into a house with a pool? Or buy a fancy vacation apartment somewhere up north and have the Plumber's long-range teleport system beam us there and back every day?'

Rook smiled and leaned forward to nibble on Ben's ear, snuffling into that rich brown hair as he did so. It made Ben laugh and jerk back slightly, straight into Rook's waiting palm that came up to let blue fingers lap at the hairline on his neck.

'I do not think we will have the budget for such a thing for another few years,' Rook remarked idly and that made Ben pause because it indicated that Rook had actually thought about moving in together. Which...whoa. 'Either way,' Rook continued, thoroughly undisturbed by whatever facial expression Ben was currently making, 'we should be more concerned with the problems of the present that those of the future.'

'Yeah, but we manage okay when we're at your place,' Ben argued. 'And just now with those smoothies, even if it turned real messy later on.'

'If you were really 'okay' then you would not have suggested the break in the first place,' Rook protested softly. 'And having you come over to my quarters all the time will make you resentful; you hate feeling dependant on anyone, even for something like a bed. And I believe you still feel over-heated, even then.'

Ben grumbled under his breath. He knew all that, he knew, and yet he was having trouble letting go of the feelings that had raced through him this afternoon, at the sheer experience of having their playful intimacy rekindled through the duration of sex that didn't make him want to die. There was nothing less sexy, he had found, than trying to please a lover in an environment that resembled the inside of a volcano. At times it had felt as though Rook's very breath was pasting a plume of lava against his throat, all while the fur on those fingertips was busy searing against his skin.

'I am this close,' he said finally, holding up a finger and a thumb to illustrate the tiny gap between them, 'to asking Nyancy Drew for advice.'

Rook's lazy look became a glare. 'Do not even dare,' he said lowly, fingers tightening on the back of Ben's neck. 'Nothing would be quicker at killing the mood. I am not one of her kitties and refuse to be considered as such.'

Ben blinked, a little surprised that Rook had got the jokey 'Nancy Drew' reference without attempting to correct it, but then he grimaced and squirmed at Rook's hold on his skin. 'Ow! You're pinching me!'

'You deserve it,' Rook told him waspishly. But he did let go.

Ben sighed. 'I'm not gonna have to start brushing you, am I?'

Rook looked at him, horror in his eyes. 'No, I- why would you even...I am not a pet, Ben!'

Maybe not, Ben thought, eying Rook with the sort of sly calculation that always made his partner develop a weary long-suffering look in return. But that didn't mean that everything the internet had to say about Earth's pet cats was completely irrelevant here either.

The first thing the internet taught him was that shaving cats was a bad idea. Because science said so. And that it somehow kept the heat out as well as keeping it in? Ben wasn't entirely sure about that last part. But then again, as some of the articles he read pointed out, cats couldn't sweat in the same way humans could – their fur prevented it and the only place sweat could collect and escape were the pads of their paws.

So Rook was right in one respect; he really wasn't one of Nyancy Chan's kitties. His physiology apparently did allow him to sweat beneath his fur, enough for it to somehow collect on the very ends. Which was probably just as well. Ben didn't want him dying of heatstroke after all.

But the internet did tell him that however a cat's fur worked, either retaining or keeping out heat, it didn't take much to break down the system. Knotted gnarls of fur disrupted the shell of hair that covered and protected the skin, much like how a hole in a ship's hull let water in.

Ben grimaced as the words 'matted or tangled fur' leapt up at him from out of the screen. Because...well, Rook's fur certainly became that way after a few minutes of intense fighting in these new, unbearable temperatures.

'Settle your cat into a new routine of brushing or combing out their fur during the cooler parts of the day. Morning is ideal.'

Ben almost threw his hands up in frustration. Rook would never go for it! He would ask questions, keep pressing on and on with his endless curiosity and the moment Ben let slip that he was following advice from a website about pets...well. He could imagine how well that would go down.

Ben glanced back down at the screen, making a face at the next tip. For it advised him to 'gently slide a wet towel or cloth against the flanks, starting from the head and then working down towards the tail.'

Great. Because the only problem with that was that Rook hated getting even so much as slightly damp when he wasn't in the bathroom or swimming. Wet fur was an irritant for him while he was working. Plus, Ben had gotten many an up-close whiff of the guy once his face had been drowned by a burst water pipe on the job, and while it was nowhere as bad as the kind of odour Stinkfly produced, it was still pretty heady.

Ben sighed. It wasn't all bad. And that wafting wet scent died away soon enough, to be replaced by the lighter and yet somehow more fragrant smell of Rook himself. It was like a small spiced orange or tangerine, the kind some people associated with Christmas, ready to be stripped down into candied peel and surrounded by flames from festive candles.

It was there whenever Ben held the other close and buried his nose in the fur, rising into the air, smoky like a cigar or maybe just expensive cologne. Ben figured it had something to do with Rook being an alien, but was a little too shy to press for details. He had never really asked what he smelt like to Rook and trying to find out the details felt in some way, more intimate than sex. Animalistic, rather. And Ben wasn't sure how willing he was to tread down that road. In his mind, there were just some things humans didn't do, didn't ask. And while he knew that humans did become attached to the scent of their partners, it wasn't really something he liked to reflect on, except in the dark and in comfort, the cloying scent of Blonko close by, exactly where his expression could be hidden away from all spying eyes other than his boyfriend's. Perhaps that made him a coward.

'Or maybe not,' he muttered his eyes flicking over the screen one last time. He wouldn't know until he tried, after all.

'No,' Rook calmly stated six hours later.

Ben frowned and very narrowly avoid stomping his foot in anger. The last time he had done that, Rook had blinked and informed him rather dryly that he wasn't related to a rabbit. 'C'mon,' he said instead, 'what happened to all that 'ooh, Ben, I'll miss your scent?''

Rook crossed his arms, adopting the familiar narrow-eyed stance he used against whatever oncoming whine he knew to be coming from Ben's throat. 'Has my sister been lending you her romance novel collection? Because I have yet to walk out of those pages and start saying 'ooh,' like those dreadful fictional characters would.'

Ben sniggered at the thought of opening up a book, much less a romance novel, and shook his head with a smile. 'Who's the one coming up with unlikely examples now? But the point still stands. I mean it was my stupid idea in the first place-'

'Not all your ideas are stupid, Ben,' the Revonnahgander broke in. 'And on this occasion, you were right to give voice to it.' He hesitated, seeming to struggle with whatever thoughts now roamed his head. 'I can tolerate a lack of your presence in my bed if it means I do not have to see you suffer. And I am confident you can do the same for me. So no, you cannot come to my quarters tonight. For now, we must sleep alone.' For a moment he looked as though he wanted to soften his words, perhaps by sliding his hand round the edge of Ben's face. But then his indecision faded and the fingers hovering in mid-air fell, before, with a firm nod to himself, Rook turned and walked away.

And Ben watched him go with a scowl.

Not that this mattered in the long run. For Ben was the master of sneak attacks. Or err, just sneaking in general.

Casually, he slammed his hand down on his watch in front of Rook's locked quarters and in a flash of green light his legs melted away to become the trailing tail of Ghostfreak's slithery form. Suppressing a chuckle, he passed through the door, spying the sweat-streaked body of his boyfriend flopped out over the rumpled mattress of his bed. And it was a sheer testament to how much Rook had been suffering that the usual sheets had been kicked out into a twisted ball on the floor, rather than arranged into the neat rectangular folds he usually favoured.

Ben smiled inwardly, mostly because Ghostfreak had no real mouth, and watched the creases in Rook's brow become even thicker as he let out a moaning snort of a snore, sleep, and perhaps the motion of a changing dream, causing his arm to lurch out, his fingers barely grazing the floor.

Poor baby, Ben thought and made himself tangible enough to ram his claws down across the Omnitrix symbol on his chest. Now human again, and with no tail to glide silently over the floor with, he crept over to the door as quietly as he could, frowning and shucking off his shoes as a slight squeak drifted out from under the rubbery heels. A few seconds later he ended up frowning again, this time at the bright blare of light from the door controls before his expression cleared and he keyed the first few symbols of the Revonnahgander word for chock-ice – or in this case Amber-Ogia-ice.

That's what you get for lecturing me about every single aspect of your culture when it's two thousand degrees outside, Ben thought, grinning as he spied the small rucksack he left outside the door. Because the only bad thing about being an intangible alien, after all, was that you couldn't rid other objects of their solid particles and drag them through with you. So with a quick snap-forward, he grabbed the straps and yanked the thing inside, sliding the door back shut with a quick check over his shoulder to make Rook was still nestled down inside slumber land.

Then, with all the grace he could manage, he snuck up onto the bed, tangling his legs down against the sides of Rook's chest and running a hand gently over Rook's brow. The next step was to yank out a big glittery brush from the rucksack, one with rainbow stickers plastered all over its plastic handle.

The things I do for big, furry...his mind grumbled.

And then with a sigh, he banished the memory of a grinning Nyancy Chan and started to work the soft bristles through Rook's coat, taking his time and tracing over the stripes visible to him in the dark, carefully untangling the crustier stands by rubbing his fingertips against the ends. He refused to follow the website's instructions to the letter, though he did at least try to keep the strokes from deliberately messing with the directional current each section of fur seemed to drift towards, and ending up feeling a little like a river himself, ironing out each small knot and gnarled twist with a careful push of fingers and brush.

Eventually, he settled into an awkward rhythm, trying to keep a relaxed hum from escaping under his breath as he worked. It was very repetitive, and the flicker of the brush under the blue stroke of his hand, his skin tone almost lamp-like under the glower of the dark, was quite hypnotising, right up until the very moment a hand with no skin-tone at all reached up and grabbed his wrist, interrupting the lulling movement with a startled tenseness.

'I would ask how you got into the quarters that I have programmed to only open from the inside, at least for tonight,' came a sleepy growl that to Ben's trained ears actually sounded a bit more awake than Rook probably wanted to portray. 'But I know you well enough to know that you always find a way. I should really get some of the people who designed the cell for Alberto to come in and install further security measures.'

Ben wrinkled up his nose. 'Don't,' he advised. 'The moment you do that some bad guy will show up and bust in while I'm here. And everything gets so much harder when I can't go hero.'

'Yes, of course, I wouldn't want to make your life harder. Never mind the fact that this hypothetical bad guy would be destroying my stuff. And you would too, knowing you.'

'Hey, I'm helping here, helping,' stressed Ben, waggling the hand holding the brush for emphasis. He could only make it jiggle faintly given Rook's tight grip on his wrist, but still, he tried. 'C'mon, you should feel cooler without so many knots in here.'

'Which pet-site did you pull that from?' Rook asked wryly, suppressing a sigh when he felt Ben's wrist twitch in his grasp. Then he leaned up slightly, squinting as he did so. 'Is that...Nyancy's kitty brush?'

'An unused one!' Ben said hastily, picking out the beginning of a heated glare being directed his way. 'Seriously! She's stock-piled a whole heap of stuff in a few lockers about town. I got her to tell me the location of one.'

'You bargained with a criminal?!'

'I promised to buy her some fresh pawns. Apparently one of her cats here hates the brand of cat food we give them. But expensive pawns? Yeah, then there's no issue.'

'That is hardly the point,' growled Rook. He looked very much on the point of gritting his teeth, of maybe flashing a canine or two into the surrounding gloom. But then abruptly, he relaxed, loosening his fingers so that they ran down the side of Ben's arm, instead of trapping it. 'This is foolish. And quite frankly, insulting. If you had pulled the info from a site about how to care for a zoo's tigers, then I might feel slightly mollified, but as it is...' he paused, brow twisting before he savagely bit out, 'I am being compared to a house-cat!'

Ben stared at him, wide-eyed for a moment. And then he burst out laughing, the brush almost dropping from his hand as the spasms shook him.

Rook glared. So Ben forced himself down slightly, his face well within range of whatever punishing poke or prod Rook could choose to favour him within. He grinned, squeezing out a few last chuckles as he did so, and then a little too confidently, ran his fingers over Rook's chin.

'You are no tiger,' he said as Rook fought to hold his frown in place. 'I've seen Youtube cats, real house-cats, with more bite than you.'

Rook bared his teeth at him as though to prove him wrong, before he shivered and his lips drew up across gums and fangs both, sealing off the view as Ben rubbed a little harder against his chin. ''Course those cats like a good chuck under the chin, just like you do as well,' Ben murmured, trying not to sound too teasing as he did so. 'So I don't think you should be insulted. The similarities have benefits, right?'

Rook looked caught, torn between a glare and the mellowed-out bliss that was currently gripping hold of the ends of his mouth and forcing it to stretch. Slowly, the frown muscles above quivered and gave, and the line of his mouth branched out into a quirky smile, his eyelids drooping down to complete the effect. But Ben wasn't without pity; untangling his fingers and tugging them away, he took up the brush again and wove it down through the air to casually glance against the other's chest. Then, pressing a little harder, he fell back into the repetitive stroke-and-lift of before, causing fur to rise up and gather into gliding patterns shaped like veins, silky-smooth, rather than the spiky, bed-combed roughness they had nestled inside minutes ago.

Rook stared at him in disbelief.

'Helping, remember?' Ben pronounced a little heavily. 'You really telling me this makes no difference? Come on, I know you don't have time to do this every morning. And your sister said you're supposed to take time off to do this at least twice a week or it gets too tangled and unmanageable...or it just looks nasty, 'like the uncultured hide of a Murroid.' Her words, not mine.'

Rook twitched.

'What? You and Gwen talk about me all the time.'

'Less than you might think,' Rook muttered. 'Though perhaps we should amend that if you are going to come up with such schemes for helping me.'

Ben grinned triumphantly.

And Rook sighed. 'I do feel a little cooler,' he admitted grudgingly.' But that does not mean, no, it should not mean that I approve of you sneaking in to disturb me.'

'Right, you house-cats need a lot of sleep,' said Ben, nodding his head sagely, though there was a slight quirk to his mouth. 'Not like tigers, nope, they like to prowl and chase deer and-'

What else tigers got to do, Ben was never allowed to tell. For Rook surged up with a swiftness that was all, Ben was forced to admit, very much like a tiger, and pounced on him, pushing him down with a quick flip of his body. The brush was instantly lost between them, caught between muscle and bed and Ben protested, drew scrabbling nails across the mattress underneath as Rook pushed his thumb over the Omnitrix and held it steady, watchful for any other questing human fingertips. Then, looking a little smug, he rolled away slightly, enough for Ben to tug both hand and brush free, before, with a graceful curve of his neck, he bent down to wedge his head into the spoon-like fall of space that cut out from under the human's neck. Ben stiffened, feeling Rook breathe as his t-shirt stirred at the sudden flow of air that landed there like a slap, before the Revonnahgander's head settled more firmly across Ben's chest – very much like a house-cat making itself comfortable.

...Ben was too smart this time to say anything about that though.

'Aw, kitty-kat all tuckered out?'

Well, okay, maybe not that smart.

'Shut up, Ben,' said Rook promptly by way of reply, 'and be my pillow.'

Ben groaned at this echo of his own too-common behaviour. But his hands came up to fold over the bump of Rook's forehead anyway.

'I'm still not calling you a tiger.'

'And pillows are not supposed to talk,' Rook informed him. 'So then perhaps neither of us are behaving as we should.'

'Well,' Ben muttered, more to himself than to Rook, 'at least you're not sending me out of the room.'

Rook sighed. 'The heavens help us when we are sent on separate month-long missions,' he said wryly. 'Seeing as how we are not even managing to have a proper break from each other right now.'

'Well, it's mostly my fault,' Ben admitted cheerfully.

'Yes,' said Rook without so much as a hint of protest. 'But I should learn not to give in as much as I sometimes do.'

Ben was quiet a moment. 'What should we do?' he finally asked.

'Well, given your sleeping habits, I doubt you will be able to wake up early enough to brush me every morning,' Rook said, his nose wrinkling at the thought of being attended to like a house-cat. 'So perhaps we should beg Kevin for a loan of his Taydenite supply and move to Canada.'

'Yeeeah,' said Ben. 'I was more in the market for helpful suggestions. Not ones doomed to failure.'

Rook thought hard for a moment, glancing over at the floor, then at the mattress coiled beneath them, and all the rivers of sweat-soaked creases flushing within the small pale spaces between their tangled limbs to stain the mattress...before his eyes opened in sudden realisation.

'We do not have to move anywhere. The main problem is the way our body temperature affects the other... and we do not have take a break to remedy that!' Ben looked at him and Rook continued, looking rather sheepish and annoyed with himself as he did so. 'I can yank out a spare mattress from somewhere like we did when you came to stay on Revonnah, placing it on the floor so that if one of us wakes up over-heated, they can settle down upon it without disturbing the other.'

Ben brightened. 'That's brilliant! Yeah! And I've got some spare sleeping bags somewhere so I can do the same for you in my room...or maybe Grandpa still has them? He's wound up with a lot of my stuff. But anyway, I can do that.' He grinned, impulsively hugging Rook closer to him. 'This is awesome! We can still have sex and you can still smell me or whatever-'

'-It is not as strange as your tone would imply it is-'

'Whatever! The point is, nobody has to give anything up!'

One of Rook's fingers crept up to stroke along the smooth lines of Ben's arm. 'Hush. I am as excited as you, but right now, my need for sleep is winning. I would appreciate it if you started to act like a proper pillow.'

Ben rolled his eyes. 'Yeah, yeah.' But he did quieten down after that. And though he did wake up a little sweaty a few hours later, he also, for the first time in weeks, felt a thousand times lighter.

Notes: Sometimes the simple solution is best and prevents your carpet getting wet. Perhaps Rook should have thought harder before letting Ben buy all those smoothies, though it's not like he didn't get anything out of the deal.

Also, I guess we've come full circle.