Fox
"So never judge a book by its cover, Or who you gonna love by your lover" - Aerosmith
Fox McCloud studied the ice cubes swimming in the amber liquid, as he swirled the glass in his paw. They spun around in circles and bumped into each other, while the melting ice left faint clear streams of water in the darker liquid. Slowly he raised the glass to his mouth and took a swig, letting the spirits burn his throat, impatiently waiting for them to make their way to his head and burn a few brain cells as well. Hopefully that would erase some of the memories too. Then he went back to observing the contents in the glass, wondering if he could actually see the melting ice cubes shrinking. Thinking of anything else just hurt too much.
"I think you should go easy on that stuff," said Falco.
Fox looked up and saw the pheasant, who hardly was known for being a teetotaller, waving a blue feathered finger at the glass.
"As if you can talk." Fox turned his attention back to his drink, but was interrupted by the noise of two plates being put down on the table.
"At least have something to eat as well, Fox."
He stared in disbelief at the plate in front of him, full of lettuce, tomatoes and other green things. He had a quick gander at the surroundings in the establishment, which was near the Corneria City Army Base and was frequented by both pilots and the top brass. Voices were merry and drinks aplenty, since on this night, the patrons were celebrating the victory in the Anglar Wars. Then his gaze went back to the plateful of salad.
'Who the heck orders rabbit food in a bar? Oh, that's right, a Hare!'
General Peppy, dressed in his best crimson Cornerian Army uniform and with the collar of his shirt freshly starched, sat down next to Fox. He removed his cap and wiped his brow-was his fur starting to get a bit thin up the top?-and turned to Fox with a concerned look on his face.
"We just want you to look after yourself."
"What's the point?"
Peppy's jaws moved without sound. Fox imagined the wheels turning, but for the moment the old hare was lost for words. Falco on the other hand was busy stuffing his gizzard, grabbing handfuls of chips and letting his beak crush them into crumbs, most of which ended up all over himself as well as himself. Fox drained his glass, but then nearly spat it all out, as someone slapped him hard in his back.
"What the f...?" Fox stood up in anger, bumping the table and knocking his chair over in the process, but found himself staring straight into a grinning bulldog face. "Bill?"
"Hiya, Fox!" Bill Grey wrapped his arms around the vulpine and pulled him into an asphyxiating bear hug. "Haven't seen ya in ages."
Fox forgot about his self-pity for a moment, glad to see his old friend. He understood that Falco and Peppy must've planned this, and why Peppy was so adamant about Fox coming to the bar with them, but right now he didn't mind.
"Sorry 'bout the circumstances though." Bill let go and put his hands firmly on Fox's shoulders instead. "I really feel for ya. And poor Krystal of course."
"We don't know yet," Fox muttered, but then he noticed the tan coloured vulpine standing slightly behind the bulldog, left arm in a sling, and looking rather apprehensive.
"This is Sam Swift," Bill explained. "Sam's been flying with me in the Husky Squadron!"
"It's an honour to meet you." Sam held out his good hand and Fox shook it absentmindedly, puzzled by Sam's slight but peculiar accent. He couldn't place where he'd heard it before. "My sincerest condolences!"
Fox mumbled something in reply, spotted a waiter and waved for more drinks. Bill and Sam sat down at the table, but Fox tuned out while the others exchanged greetings. He concentrated on the drinks instead, which had arrived promptly. He took a big gulp of the liquor, feeling it getting to his head and working its magic.
"I've been thinking," said Peppy. "I think a state funeral would be in order for Krystal, since..."
"No funeral!" Fox literally spat the words out and slammed his glass down on the table. "No body, no funeral."
"But you must understand, she couldn't have survived..."
"You weren't there!"
In his heart of hearts he probably did understand, but his brain refused to accept it. It was odd though. After Leon and Panther had taken off to help Wolf win the war and steal the glory, he had flown to the Great Fox II since he needed to refuel. When he returned with his carrier and ROB, the debris from the ships were still floating in space, but Krystal's body had disappeared.
"I'm so sorry," said Sam, looking at Fox with sad hazel eyes. "I can't even begin to understand what it's like, but..."
"No, you can't."
"Oh, c'mon Fox!" Falco glared at Fox and pointed towards Sam's sling. "You're not the only one who's been hurt, ya know."
"It's just a dislocated shoulder," said Sam.
"Shoulder my butt!" Bill raised his voice. "Sam nearly got blown ta bits by an Anglar that go in'ta the hangar. He's spent weeks in hospital."
"Sorry, not sorry," Fox muttered, but he felt a pang of guilt as he had another drink.
"For Pete's sake, it's not all about you." There was an angry edge to Falco's voice.
"Shut up!" Fox knew it wasn't though, it was about Krystal. What had happened to her wasn't fair and he was angry with the world for it.
"It's freakin' hopeless talking to you." The bird rose up and stomped off. Fox didn't care. He got the waiter's attention instead and ordered more drinks.
Bill started telling one long story after the other about his squadrons' involvement in the Anglar Wars, encouraged by Peppy, but Fox phased out again. He muttered the odd single-syllable reply while downing drink after drink. The grog was swimming in his brain and drowning the pain, at least temporarily.
"Well, I'd better be going." Bill suddenly raised his voice. Fox had no idea how much time had passed. "Got an early ship back to Katina tomorrow."
"Good t'see ya, Bill." Fox even surprised himself at how coherent he sounded.
"C'mon Fox, I'll take you home," said Peppy and put a hand on Fox's shoulder.
"Imma shtayin'!"
"You really shouldn't in your state."
"I'll look after him," said Sam. "It's not like I've got anywhere else to go."
Bill and Peppy looked at Sam in disbelief, and even Fox tried to focus his gaze, suddenly remembering that the other fox was still there. But after more condolences and back slaps his old friends took their leave.
"How'd ya end up flying with Bill anyway?"
"I actually don't know much about it at all," said Sam. There was that odd accent again. "I took a hit to the head in the accident, and can't remember anything?"
Fox cocked an eyebrow, and his right hand stopped just in front of his muzzle. The glass swayed slightly in his unsteady grip, while he waited for Sam to continue.
"My father won't see me, my mother is dead, and my boyfriend dumped me." Sam looked down at the glass of water in his hand. "So yeah, I don't really know anyone in Corneria City, or elsewhere for that matter."
"I was dumped too. Damn bitches. Cheers to being single." Fox downed his drink, partially because even in his inebriated state, he felt ashamed of those remarks. Something about Sam resonated with him though, both having gone through trauma and loss. He could relate. Then he did a double-take. "Boyfriend?"
Sam just shrugged. It wasn't like Fox had anything against gays as such, but he couldn't understand how a guy could be interested in other guys in, you know, that way. Sure, he realised that it was something you were born with and couldn't help and all that. But what did the other guys in Bill's squadron think? Had Sam been checking them out? Had he been thinking stuff about them? Fox shivered. 'And aren't they meant to be like interior decorators or stand-up comedians or something, not pilots? I just don't get it.'
"Need to take a leak," Fox declared as a less than subtle way of trying to get out of any potentially awkward conversations. He tried to stand up, but the floor was all sloping. With flailing hands he tried to grab a hold of something, but only managed to pull a glass and a bowl of salad off the table before he face planted.
A bouncer appeared on cue. "I think you've had enough."
"We're leaving now." Sam's voice sounded distant. "We just need to go to the restroom first."
The bouncer, a rather intimidating Rottweiler, pulled Fox up by the scruff of his neck. Sam put Fox's arm around his own neck, and then they hobbled off with Sam holding on to Fox with his good arm.
"Phew, it stinks in here!" Sam scrunched up his muzzle when they entered the gentlemen's. "But at least there are no queues like in the ladies'."
"Wot you been hanging out there for? Associating?"
"Just do what you need to do." Sam growled and pushed Fox up to a free urinal.
"Don't look!"
"I wouldn't dream of it, you silly Fox."
There was that peculiar accent again, and the words sounded so familiar, but he couldn't hold his train of thought and forgot about it.
He finished his business and they made their way out of the bar, Sam temporarily dumping the drunkard on a couch while he disappeared to do something, probably take care of the bill. Fox tried to say thanks, but no words coherent enough emerged from his drunken muzzle.
'Crud faced, or whatever Falco says.' Fox giggled to himself as they stepped out into the fresh Cornerian night air.
It was definitely one of the worst hangovers Fox had ever experienced. He woke up with his mouth bone dry, yet tasting like rancid hydraulic fluid. A choir of baritone jackhammers were performing an out-of-tune concert in his head.
Some light was seeping into the bedroom through the window blinds, but it was impossible to tell if it was early morning or late in the day. His eyes wouldn't open properly to check the alarm clock. His stomach was heaving, so he rolled out of bed in a semi-controlled fall, and crawled into the ensuite. There, he went straight to driving the porcelain bus, stopping all stations to let foul contents exit. After flushing and letting his stomach settle for several minutes, he could finally stand up in a fashion, but he held on to the vanity firmly while he washed his muzzle and maw.
He wobbled out of the ensuite and flopped down on the side of the bed. He spotted a bottle of those sports drinks with electrolytes on the bedside table, so he cracked it open and had a big swig of the hydrating liquid. But he couldn't recall having been to the kitchen to get it out of the fridge, and the worst thing was that he did remember most of the previous night. Somehow that guy Sam had managed to get Fox home, while Fox's directions had been anything but helpful. He remembered rambling on about how unfair the world was, insulted a random passerby, nearly got them both into a fight, and even managed to make a few inappropriate and homophobic butt jokes for good measure. Still, Sam had made sure that the drunken fox made it home, and even been thoughtful enough to have put that water bottle handy.
Fox felt like a jerk, while he had another long drink. Then he slumped back into the bed, drifting off to a restless sleep.
When he woke up again, who knows how much later, he felt slightly better. He grabbed that bottle again, walked into the ensuite, found some pain killers and downed two with the rest of the drink. Then he stepped into the shower and had a long, hot wash, trying to rinse dirt and shame off himself. After a while his head and guts started settling down, so he turned the water off, and dried himself halfheartedly. He donned a tee and sweatpants and made his way towards the kitchen.
Something felt out of place, but he couldn't put his finger on it, until his nose managed to alert his brain to the smell of food. Freshly cooked food. Lovely greasy hangover food.
Fox's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets, and he stopped dead in his tracks after entering the kitchen. By the stove stood Sam, left arm still in its sling, and trying to cook up a storm with his right. Bacon was sizzling and popping in a frying pan, while Sam was making an awful job of trying to halve some tomatoes and chop mushrooms with only one hand. There were whisked eggs in a glass bowl, ready to go into the pan.
"Good morning," said Sam and looked up. "Would you mind giving me a hand with these tomatoes?"
"What are ... you doing here?"
"Oh, you didn't seem too well, so I didn't want to leave you alone." Sam's gaze darted around the room. "And ... umm ... I didn't know my way home anyway, so I slept on your couch."
"You don't know where you live?"
"I can't remember. Bill dropped me off, and picked me up from there yesterday."
Fox recalled that Sam had amnesia, and felt like an ungrateful idiot again. He picked up a knife and tried his hardest to cut the tomatoes, without chopping off his fingers, while Sam watched rather nervously.
"I heard you get into the shower, and thought you might be hungry, so I started cooking."
Fox wondered how Sam had gotten in and out of the apartment to get groceries, but maybe he'd just seen the key code or had to punch it in for Fox last night. He finished the cutting and then seasoned the eggs, while Sam went to work with the pans, sautéing and scrambling. Then he dished up, poured them a large glass of orange juice each, and they sat down on the barstools by the kitchen peninsula. Fox's head was spinning while they ate, both from thinking and the hangover.
Brunch was tasty, and he was pretty hungry, but didn't want to overdo it. His stomach still felt a little bit funny. Sam worked the coffee machine and put a large mug in front of Fox, who took it with him out in the living room and flopped down in the middle of the couch. Sam joined him after a couple of minutes and sat down in an armchair, a fresh cup of cocoa in his hand. Then, they just sat there in an awkward silence, stealing glances off each other.
"Hey, sorry about last night." Fox scratched the back of his head. "I shoulda... shouldn't have said some of those things."
"Don't worry," said Sam after a while. "I know what... I've heard what you're going through. Bill told me about you and Krystal."
Krystal, the name he didn't want to think about, the person he couldn't forget. 'Why did she have to get involved in the war? Why couldn't she just stay safe?'
"I don't want to pry but..." Sam trailed off. His gaze went from Fox down to the cup of cocoa and back again, while he squirmed in his seat. "Sometimes it helps to talk about things."
Fox just stared into space.
"What was she like?"
"Feisty, stubborn..."
"A bit of a warrior?"
"Yeah, a fighter she was all right." Fox thought about how they'd met on Sauria, her taking on Andross with her staff, and flying beside him against the Aparoids.
"So, why did you take her off the team."
"I couldn't keep her safe."
"Was she reckless?"
"No, but I was afraid something would happen to her. I live a dangerous life." Fox's mood darkened. "But why did she have to join ... them?"
"Yes, that was dumb of..." Sam paused for a moment. "Everyone makes mistakes. But what did you expect a warrior to do?"
Fox knew the answer. He'd thought about it many times. A fighter would keep fighting, if not beside him, then with someone else. He'd realised how foolish he'd been, and that's why he'd made a desperate attempt to reach her during the Anglar Wars. One last plea. Then everything had gone wrong. He buried his head in his hands, trying to hold back the tears. He didn't even notice when Sam moved next to him, until Sam wrapped his good arm around Fox and pulled him into a hug.
"Oh, poor Foxy-Woxy!"
"What? What did you call me?" Fox startled. He pushed Sam off and scrambled into the opposite corner of the couch. "Are you hitting on me or something?"
"No, I know how funny you are about gays," Sam grumbled.
"And how do you know that name?" Only Krystal had ever used that nickname. "Who are you?"
"This is gonna sound weird." Sam looked very sheepish, and a tear was beading in his eye, but he didn't break Fox's gaze. "But it's me!"
Fox was flabbergasted. "Of course it's you, but who the hell are you?"
"Yes, it's me! I mean, no, I'm not who I seem. Oh, this is so confusing." Sam's hand tried to grab thin air above his temple, like tearing at long hair that just wasn't there. "I'm Krystal!"
Fox just stared at Sam for a long while, mouth hanging open. "Is this a bad joke?"
"No! After the crash, the Krazoa came for me and they put me in this body."
"Bunch of lies."
"I know you saw me die, I did too, floating in the debris."
"Are you another telepath or something, just picking this stuff out of my head?"
"You stubborn fool!" Sam was quite worked up and frustration was in his voice. "I pleaded with the Krazoa, begged them for another chance, because I did want to forgive you. I needed to say sorry for that letter."
"Wait ... what letter?"
Sam lowered his voice. "The one I sent you when I left the army, handwritten, just before I joined Star Wolf."
Fox went all cold. "I... I never read it." They both stared at each other, as the implications started sinking in. Even a telepath couldn't read an unopened letter. "What did it say?"
Sam looked down. "Not so nice things, harsh words. I was angry, feeling betrayed." His voice was barely a whisper as he summarised the contents. Fox listened carefully and took it all in. "But I finished with 'I will always love you, Fox' and a kiss-hug-kiss as I used to."
Fox stood up and walked into his study, pulled out the top drawer in his desk, and threw the everting else on the floor until he found the letter at the very bottom. Then he walked back out into the lounge room, opened the envelope with trembling hands and read. Sam was right. The words were very harsh, and Fox felt both angry and guilty as charged. Sam hadn't moved from the couch, tears rolling down his cheeks. Then the letter finished as Sam had said and it was signed '-XOX- Krystal'.
Fox slumped down on the couch. A big tear fell onto the letter, smudging Krystal's name done in calligraphy. Then the dam walls broke, and he buried his face in Sam's shoulder and cried. Sam held him tight. How long they sat there, he did not know.
"I love you, Fox." The voice was barely audible in his ear. "I always will."
When he looked up, Sam's tan furred face looked back at him with both tears and a glint in his hazel eyes, a glint Fox knew well, but not from someone with a man's body and this close. Sam's muzzle inched closer. Fox closed his eyes, fearing he would faint as his head spun out of control from confusion and elation. He shivered as foreign lips touched his own, the taste all wrong. A tongue slowly parted his lips, seeking out first the fangs in his upper jaw, then the bottom ones, and last the tip of his tongue. The same way as Krystal always had. The tongue withdrew, but he followed it, lips gingerly feeling each other. Then they parted and just looked at each other.
"This is so confusing."
"I know."
And they kissed again.
They went for a wander. Fox's apartment was within walking distance from the bay, even though it was a stiff walk. They didn't mind. It was a beautiful spring day, the sun was beating down and warming up the air, even though there was a cool sea breeze. When they reached the foreshore, they took off their shoes and walked barefoot in the sand. Sam squealed when he dipped his toes in the cold water.
Walking along, they talked and talked and talked. They caught up on what each of them had done since they split up. They spoke about the Anglars and the late Andross's crazy schemes. They confided in each other about their feelings, hurt and regrets. Every step away from the apartment brought them closer together.
By the time it was past midday, the exercise had made them hungry again. A food truck selling seafood was parked near the beach, so they went there and bought themselves a fisherman's basket each. Then they sat down on a stone wall, and looked out over the water while munching on fried fish, prawns and scallops with fries.
"I have a strange question," said Fox. "What should I call you?"
"I really don't know," said Krystal in Sam's body with a deeply furrowed brow. "I haven't thought about it. I guess I've been so busy thinking about how I would explain it all to you."
"Just stick to the truth?"
"And explain over and over again to people who won't believe?" The tan fox shook his head. "Nah, I think I might be stuck in this body, so you might as well call me Sam. All I asked the Krazoa for was a chance to talk to you again. I wanted to take over someone's life, and I'd hand this body back to him if I could."
"I'm not sure if I could bear ... losing you again ... not yet."
They sat in silence for a minute. Fear and love had a hold of Fox's heart. Someone's win was someone else's loss, just like in war, he thought. The tan fox hung his head, but then plucked up some courage. "Also, he's been through some stuff, and I feel sorry for him, so I think I just want to show the world what he can do."
"That sounds like the Krystal I know."
"I still think like me. Got a problem with that?" Sam put a particularly large calamari ring over Fox's muzzle, who chuckled and popped the fried squid in his mouth. It was cooked just right, and had a little bit of chewing resistance without being rubbery.
"And you literally sound like her. You've still got a bit of the accent."
"Odd, but I suppose I can always blame that on the knock to the head. I can't read minds anymore though." Sam's ears flattened. "I guess the telepathy died with the Cerinian body."
It hit Fox like a ton of bricks. The last Cerinian was gone. Even if Krystal had been the last of her kind, they could at least have had part Cerinian kits.
"But you're still alive." Fox put his hand on Sam's and their fingers slowly wrapped together.
They finished their meal and headed back towards the city centre. Sam did some window shopping, but forgot himself and was mainly looking at women's clothing, until Fox pointed out the obvious. They laughed heartily at that, steadily getting more and more comfortable with their new situation.
There was a commotion outside a fancy and expensive restaurant. A crowd had gathered and camera flashes went off when a limousine arrived and hovered gracefully a few feet in the air by the sidewalk. Wheels were really more energy efficient in city traffic, so whoever owned the limousine obviously wanted to show off. A sliding door whooshed open and a ramp extended. Out of the vehicle stepped a spotted white dog dressed in an eye watering bright magenta three-piece suit. The Dalmatian had his muzzle high in the air as he strutted down the ramp, while next to him walked a little boggle-eyed pug with thick rimmed black glasses.
"That's Mike!" exclaimed Sam in surprise.
"Who?"
"My ex, apparently"
Fox turned to one of the bystanders.
"Excuse me, but who's that in the purple suit? Is he famous?"
"Have you been living under a rock?" The golden retriever chuckled at Fox, but didn't look up from his professional camera. "That's Mr. Wayne Kerr, the acclaimed fashion designer."
"Oh, fashion, not my forte I'm afraid."
The dog turned to Fox with a puzzled look on his face. "Do I know you? Are you... Fox McCloud?"
"In fact, yes I am," said Fox and removed his Aviators.
"Pleasure to meet you!" He beamed Fox a wide smile, but then went back to snapping photos of the celebrity, just like the other paparazzi. Clearly a distinguished fashion designer was more interesting than an average old war hero, but Fox just shrugged. He didn't care.
Mr. Kerr stopped at the entrance to the restaurant and basked in the attention, and just then Mike happened to look their way. Fox wondered if that guy Mike knew who he was. Chances were, if Mike had been in a relationship with a star-fighter pilot. Then Fox felt a firm hand grabbing the back of his head and turning him around
"Wha...mmphhh?"
A muzzle assaulted him, lips locking on, a tongue demanding to be let inside. After a long and intense kiss, Sam broke off, a cheeky grin on his face. Fox stole a sideways gander at the pug, who stood there with his maw hanging open.
"You're such a tease, Krystal!"
Sam giggled, a Krystal giggle but with a deeper voice and a different tone, but it was contagious just the same.
They left the crowd behind and kept walking and talking. In a less fancy part of the city centre, they found a stand selling refreshments. Sam bought a pineapple whip and Fox a watermelon smoothie. Slurping on their snacks, they walked down the street, holding hands, oblivious to the people around them. In civilian clothes, a grey tee and blue jeans, and wearing sunglasses, no-one seemed to recognise the once great Hero of Lylat. Fox didn't mind. He had all he ever wanted.
"So...," Sam started. "How does it feel to be gay?"
Fox nearly choked on his smoothie.
"What?" he said when he'd finished hacking. "I'm not gay!"
"Hello! You're walking around the city holding hands with a guy."
"That's different!"
"Why?" Sam cocked his head and looked at Fox.
"Because you're still Krystal and I love you. You just happen to be in a guy's body now."
"And what about other people who happen to fall in love with someone who happen to have a body of the same sex as themselves?"
"That's their problem!"
"Hm, you were always funny about that." Sam's mood darkened and he let go of Fox's hand.
Fox's head was spinning, cogs churning, trying to make sense of their situation. He just wished Krystal would be Krystal, in body that is, because Sam still acted and spoke like her. If it was one thing he'd learnt with her, it was that if she was cross with him, it was usually his fault.
"It's just a lot to take in," he finally said.
"Do you think it's any easier for me?"
He reached for Sam's hand, who pulled it away, but Fox persisted and locked hands.
"Okay, I get it, it's just love."
"Just love?"
"And that's just my foot-in-mouth disease," Fox said with a sigh. He stopped and turned to Sam, who had a reproachful look on his face. If anyone was watching or listening to them, he didn't notice and didn't care. Right now he only had eyes for Sam, who was Krystal, however confusing that was.
"Don't get me wrong, I miss the way you used to look, but I'd much rather be with you like this than be without you." He touched the fur on Sam's face, which had been meticulously brushed to a lovely softness. He ran a hand down Sam's good arm, which was slender yet strong, athletic just like Krystal's. She had not been very girly in all respects, the bruises she had inflicted in some of their sparring sessions still a vivid memory, but he had liked that about her. "I don't think being attracted to one special person makes me gay, but I don't care. I get it. I finally got it. Guys or girls, it doesn't matter. It's love, and I love you for your personality, your values."
"And I love you too." Sam, who was the taller of the two by a couple of inches, leaned down to steal a kiss, but Fox wouldn't let him. They shared it instead, and Fox wrapped his arms around Sam. It was a gentle yet electrifying kiss, long and lingering, savouring the moment of their lips and tongues touching each other.
"And you're still cute," said Fox and gave Sam a little scratch under his chin.
Then they kept walking, holding hands and with their bushy tails wagging happily behind them, down that busy street of Corneria City.
They agreed that they both should stay in Fox's apartment for now, since it was more spacious and Krystal had been used to it anyway. They swung by Sam's place to pick up some clothes and necessities, and after having a giggle at the calendar in the wardrobe, they bought some takeaway food and made it back to Fox's place.
After pigging out on rice paper rolls, spicy noodles and other goodies-washed down with a bottle of sparkling blanc-de-blanc from Château Renard Rapide-they turned on the telly, but didn't really pay it much attention. They were too busy just snuggling and smooching on the couch, while making small talk and still catching up on everything they'd done during the year they'd been apart.
As the yawns grew wider and eyelids heavier, they turned off the TV and decided to call it a night. Fox let Sam get ready for bed first, while he cleared up their dinner, so Sam was already in bed when Fox came into the bedroom. He dressed down to his boxers, slipped under the duvet and picked up his tablet from the bedside table to do some light reading.
But a rhythmic thumping noise kept interrupting him, and he felt... observed. He looked to his side, straight into two hazel eyes, eyes that looked rather hungry. A tail was poking out from under the covers and thrashing about excitedly, whacking the bedsheets.
"What?"
"I've missed you!" said Sam.
"I've missed you too." Fox smiled.
"I've missed being with you!"
Sam inched closer. Fox startled when something firm poked his hip.
"You're a bit jumpy tonight," said Sam.
"What? Why? You must be tired? We should get some sleep!"
"I'm not that tired. I want to be with you!"
As Sam moved closer, Fox wriggled away, until he was right on the edge of the bed. Sam put a hand on Fox's chest, who squirmed, dangerously close to falling onto the floor. The hand started moving down his stomach, but Fox grasped it.
"Err... About that... I'm not sure how that's gonna work out."
"We're not going to have that sort of discussion again, are we?" Sam growled and rolled over on his other side, then yelped as it hurt his sore shoulder. He settled down on his back on the other half of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "I have to get used to this body. So can you!"
Fox didn't really know what to say.
"Don't you think I wish I could have my own body back," Sam continued. "But I'd rather be together with you any which way. I was kinda hoping you'd see it the same way."
The confusion and conflict was overwhelming. It was all still so strange and surreal, and he just wanted everything to go back to normal. Yet, he was elated that Krystal was alive, as were their memories and time together, with the future laying before them. He knew he should see the glass as half full, but it was harder when he didn't recognise the contents. So here he was, procrastinating and afraid, feeling the fear of love.
"I... I'm sorry!" He rolled over and kissed Sam's cheek tenderly. Sam didn't move, still staring at the ceiling, pretending to be hurt, playing hard to get. 'Such a Krystal thing to do,' Fox thought and started licking Sam's neck and up under his muzzle.
"Are you sucking up now?" Sam grumbled.
"Is it working?"
Sam's voice was barely a whisper. "Maybe"
Fox put a hand on Sam's chest, slowly rubbing up and down, letting his fingers flow through the fur. The other fox sighed and relaxed under the touch, at least for the moment. He moved his hand to one side, and felt the rhythm of a heart giving life, perhaps beating a little bit faster than when at rest.
"Male bodies are weird! Something has a life of its own." Sam lifted the duvet and stuck his head under. "Hey, I think mine's bigger..."
"Do you have to?"
"What? You should've seen..."
"No! Just no!"
"Never said bigger is better," said Sam and moved closer, those beady eyes still devouring Fox, who took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "This should be easy for you. You know what you like. Just do that to me."
"That usually involves a... you know."
"You're exasperating, Mr Glass-half-empty!" Sam rolled his eyes. "See it from the bright side. You don't need to worry about premature... excitement."
"That was low, even for you." Fox blushed, knowing damn well that Krystal was referring to the stamina he had... most of the time.
"And I know you've touched at least one guy's private parts before."
"What?"
"Telepathy works both ways you know. Until I lost it." Sam paused and sighed deeply. Then he locked his gaze onto Fox. "If an emotion from someone was strong enough, it was hard to shut out. So before we got together, when you were entertaining yourself..."
"That was stress relief."
Sam rolled his eyes again. "All I could do was yearn and hope you'd invite me."
Fox's cheeks turned red hot, so he reached out and turned the lights off to hide his blush, as well as hoping it might make things easier. He put a hand on Sam's chest again, slowly moving down over the abdomen, until he reached the waistband of Sam's boxer shorts. Sam gasped, but wriggled his body to let Fox slowly pull the garment down. The silky material was soft in his hand. He threw it onto the floor. Then he rolled on top of Sam, a glint in hazel eyes still visible in the city's night lights that penetrated the blinds. They kissed again, and again. He licked Sam's cheeks and nuzzled his neck, while his fingers found the chest. He longed for Krystal's firm bosoms, which were so perfect to cup his hands around, but he was grateful for what he had. Soft kissing lips moved downwards.
"That tickles!" Sam giggled as Fox nuzzled his nose into the squirming swift fox's belly fluff. A hand was scratching behind Fox's ear, then with a gentle push urged him to continue.
'This is going to be weird,' thought Fox as he moved further down.
Fox's own nose woke him up. It had picked up the most wondrous scent. It took him a moment to place it, and to figure out what, or rather who, it was. I belonged to someone he loved. He opened his eyes and saw a white muzzle sticking out between the duvet and a head of ruffled up blue hair. An azure ear pricked up and an eyelid slowly opened, revealing a tired sea-green eye looking back at him.
"Good morning, sleepy head," he said.
Krystal sighed, shut her eye again, and moved closer. He put his muzzle to hers and they kissed, his lips savouring the touch and taste as if it was the very first time. Krystal purred with content. Then she put a hand on him, running her fingers up and down through his chest fluff, sending shivers of pleasure through his body.
"Your fur is a bit sweaty and sticky, Foxy-Woxy. Did you have a bad dream?"
He sure had and it had been so vivid, so lucid. He couldn't believe that the battle with the Anglars, the Cloud Runner's collision and Krystal's frozen body had just been a dream, but he couldn't put words to how relieved he was.
"Or a hot dream perhaps?" A mischievous smirk formed on her muzzle.
Yes, the last part of it had been hot, strange, but surprisingly enjoyable. He was sure she'd pick it out of his mind sooner or later, but right now he just wanted to be near the woman he loved. She seemed to have other ideas though, because she let go of him, rolled over and sat up on the side of the bed. But he didn't mind the view either.
"Mine was weird," she said. Then she stopped, like she was hesitating, and scrunched up the sheets in her hand. "In my dream ... I died. The Krazoa came to take me to the afterlife, but I begged them for one more chance to see you, so they resurrected me because you saved Sauria."
"I couldn't have done it without your guidance and your staff."
"But ... I was turned into a man." She went quiet, and Fox went all cold. "We made up and made ... love. And when I was sleeping, the Krazoa returned, like a dream within a dream. They said, 'Krystal, you are true of heart again. From redemption comes resurrection.' There was the same blinding light as when I died, and then I woke up next to you."
Fox's head was spinning out of control. It was uncanny, too similar to his dream. But he recalled how they had discussed her telepathy, wondering if it was working when she was asleep, and whether they might share dreams. That must be it, he thought.
She stood up, cleverly shielding her most private parts with her big fluffy tail. He would never grow tired of her fit body with just the right amount of curves and that incredibly blue pelt. "What the...?" Her eyes grew large as dinner plates, and she bent down to pick something off the floor. With her maw hanging open, she stared at the pair of boxer shorts in her hand like they were an alien object. He frowned. If she was borrowing his clothes, when was today actually. 'How long have I been dreaming for? Was the Anglar Wars not real? Did we even break up? When did I buy silk boxers with love hearts on them?'
Krystal mumbled something under her breath. He couldn't hear her clearly, but he thought she repeated the line, 'From redemption comes resurrection.' Yes, they had hurt each other when they broke up, he thought, but now they were back together and that's what mattered.
His train of thought was interrupted by a buzzing sound. His wrist communicator was vibrating away on the bedside table. Not feeling like answering it in the nude, he let it go to video mail, and then waved a hand over it to play the message back. The hologram flickered to life and a bulldog muzzle appeared.
"Hiya Fox, Bill here, obviously. Just wanted to check on you, since I know you've been going through some rough stuff. Also, this is gonna sound a bit weird, but Sam still has problems with his memories." Krystal pounced on top of Fox. "I just spoke to him and he was quite worked up. He says he just woke up at his place and now he can't remember anything after the accident. Do you know if he bumped his head or something' the other night?"
"He's alive, the Krazoa, they must've... Is he okay?" She was mesmerised by the recording, while Fox was more than slightly distracted by her breasts, which were wiggling in rhythm with her wagging tail. Then the realisation hit home and he looked up into her big eyes. "Did we...?" A sly smirk spread across her muzzle. "Do you miss him already?"
He blushed like he hadn't in a long time, or at least not since last night. "Do you miss ... being him?"
The joke was partially on her now, as she was blushing too. She laid on top of him and buried her muzzle in the nape of his neck. "I'm just happy to have someone who loves me for who I am, not how I look."
He put his arms around her and held her tightly. "I'll always love you, and I meant every word."
Thanks to Thespacedoge and EquinoxFox for beta-reading, and to everyone in the Foxhole-Did you get the references?-as well as Professor Slaad for putting up with my rambling on about my silly ideas.
I'm not sure who started with Foxy-Woxy. It might've been Xengo and/or Whitefur, but whomever it was, I hope you don't mind me borrowing.
I honestly didn't expect that anyone would like to read a gayish story by a straight guy and probably mostly intended for a straight audience, but here you are, so thank you for taking your time. Apologies for applying a bit of homophobia to Fox, which most likely is out of character for him. In fact in the possible future sequel to KBR (in planning), when Fox finally learns that Krystal had a brief relationship with another woman, he'll go, "No big deal", just as Kursed did when she met Hope. This story was a silly idea I had and needed to get out of my head, where it was taking space. I guess I wanted to try something a bit out of my comfort zone. The purpose of this story is to deal with (honestly my own) homophobia. I hope I did it justice.