With the Spectrums getting knocked out of the playoffs in the first round, the team finds itself able to enjoy some vacation time. Rookie of the Year, Luukas Hirvonen, decides to head back to Florida for a while, and teammate and pal Crosby Sutters joins him, splitting a rental house in Daytona Beach.

But, there is some trouble in paradise as Luke's family comes back home, and he meets them for dinner, which Crosby sticks around the house, enjoying his vacation. Until dinner gets cut short, that is...

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For the first time since they’d moved in, the rental house that Luukas Hirvonen and Crosby Sutters shared on Daytona Beach was clean. Well, perhaps not entirely clean, but certainly clean enough to be presentable to guests. Laundry had been done and folded, the stacks of take-out boxes in the kitchen had been thrown out, and at long last, a roll of toilet paper was actually on the spindle instead of just being next to it. But for all their work to clean up the place, only one person was home to enjoy it.

Instead of having his family over for dinner, Luke had opted to take them out to a nice restaurant. Out of respect, Crosby had stayed home, not wishing to intrude on Luke’s family reunion. His parents and sister had just flown back in from Finland, and Crosby made himself scarce in order to give them more time to bond.

And more time to watch the Formula 1 race on television.

Kicked back on the leather sofa, unshod footpaws on a large, matching ottoman, the nearly seven-foot-tall genet had dressed down for the night once he realized he wouldn’t likely be meeting his teammate’s family. Loose cargo shorts and an unbuttoned Cuban shirt completed the visible entirety of his state of dress for the night, and he frowned as a small piece of orange chicken escaped from his chopsticks and fell onto the white fur of his chest. Plucking it up, he popped it into his mouth, then used a paper towel to clean up before resuming his take-out dinner.

Typically, Formula 1 was the best way to distract the genet from anything, having raced in it in a brief summer series, a few years before, but tonight was the Dubai race, and much like the drivers in it, he was bored even watching it. Stabbing his chopsticks into a white carton of vegetable fried rice, he picked up the remote and began to flip channels, idly picking at a bit of broccoli in his teeth with the claw of his free paw.

“Hope Luke’s dinner was better than this,” he muttered to himself, not impressed with the new Chinese place he’d picked for the night. A few more clicks of the remote brought him to an old standby, Star Trek: The Next Generation. “That’s better,” he said with a grin.

Taking up his food again, Crosby let himself get lost in the world of the 24’th century, to the point that he scarcely heard the front door open, his ears only perking - and long, ringed tail jumping - when he heard it shut once more. One paw hurried to close his shirt and prepare to button it as he peeked over the back of the couch. Only Luke, so the shirt remained unbuttoned.

“Hey, dude, have a good dinner?” Crosby called out, not bothering to get up.

“Woundn’t know” Luke snarled as he tossed his jacket aside. “Kinda left half way through it. Any more of that? I’m starving.”

Crosby jerked up on the couch, nearly upsetting a tray still bearing a few egg rolls on his lap. Ears peaked in concern, the genet set his food aside rising from his seat. “Woah, wait, what? Dude, you couldn’t talk enough about how good that restaurant was supposed to be,” he said.

A second or two later, realization struck Crosby like a blow to the head, and his ears wilted, tail drooping. “Ah. Gotcha,” he said. It was painful to see the expression on his friend’s face, and there was silence for a bit before he nodded. “Uh, yeah. I mean, I didn’t exactly order for two, but I did want to test their menu. Turns out Ms. Wu’s isn’t as good as Mr. Wang’s, but they’re better than Wong Palace.”

Easing back down to his seat on the couch, Crosby arranged his cartons of Chinese food so that Luke could take his pick.

“So, uh... you, uh, want to talk about it?” the genet posited, a nervous smile on his face. When he got no response, he sighed again, leaking back into the soft, leather cushions. “It’s cool. I know what family drama is like,” he mumbled”

"Typical Hirvonen family crap." Luke sputtered between bites. "Dad complaining that I'm not 'taking over the family business. Mom trying to talk me into peddling 'Ilsa H's Ab Monster.' “

Crosby couldn’t help but snicker, "Ab... monster?"

"Guaranteed to make you look like an Olympian or your money back!'” Luke replied in salesman pitch. “Still haven't figured out how she hasn't been pegged with a class action suit, yet."

Humor aside, there was still the uncomfortable subject of family discord, something Crosby knew all too well. Fidgeting in his seat, he held his paws to keep his thumbs from fiddling. "So, if it's typical, why did you leave early?” the genet asked. “Thought you would've build some sort of resistance to this stuff by now."

Luke slouched as his ears folded back. “I don’t know, Cros,” he answered. “I just thought things would be different now. It's not even my Mom that's getting to me. I've had a great rookie season. Hell, T. Matt Latrans made me his #1 pick for rookie of the year. Yet all I get from Dad is 'You should've stuck with kart racing, who knows, you'd probably be taking my place on the NASCAR circuit now.' As if being a professional athlete isn't enough, you know?"

“Dude, you are so preaching to the chior,” Crosby said, rolling his eyes. “My dad never wanted me to play basketball, it was all about being part of the family team, and racing.” Plucking an egg roll up, he took a bite, then continued to speak with his mouth full. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love driving, and I never wanted to hurt my family, but... it just wasn’t who I was. I had to be me, even... coming out. At least your parents still want to see you. Mine just ask if I can get tickets for them for other games, if they even contact me at all.”

A sip of a Seagrams cooler washed down his egg roll, and he reached over to yank the recline button on the couch, letting the footrest kick out and the seat lean back before rolling to lay on his side, facing his teammate and friend. “From what I can tell, your parents still love you. They just... don’t know how to express it, so they bring up things they know, hoping to use them to draw you back to them. Lame I know, but they’re just trying to be close to you.”

Luke chuckled as He finished off an egg roll. “Come on, you make me sound like I’m impersonal all the time.”

“Of course you’re not,” Crosby countered, tail flicking in a friendly manner. “Just... be glad they want to see you, is what I’m saying. You don’t know what it’s like to lose that. I do.”

The cougar sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I......I guess I overreacted. Maybe we should have them over or something."

"How about tomorrow?" Crosby spouted as he tapped away on his phone.

Luke scratched the back of his head, not too enthused at the prospect, but he relented. "Umm yeah, that sounds ok."

The genet smiled as his phone beeped. "Good, because they just accepted my invite on Facebook!" he laughed.

"I.....uh.......great." Luke replied, a palm finding its way to his face.

....TO BE CONTINUED.


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The Santa Ana Spectrums and the FBA are the brainchildren of the wonderful  buckhopper , and Luukas Hirvonen belongs to  n8otter , while Crosby Sutters belongs to me,  mongooseink