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_ Part 3 _

(Sam)

The living room sounded awkward enough from out in the kitchen. Not much sound to be heard. Even less chatter. But it took actually being there to fully get how cold the atmosphere had gotten. Only the TV saved us all from total silence, broadcasting an episode from some old comedy series whose name I couldn't place. Marek had tasked me with keeping our folks company. Gods... Talk about a tall order.

I shuffled through the space between the couch and the end table, catching a fast ride on the open lift up to where my folks sat on the arm. They offered me small smiles and a muttered 'welcome back', looking happy enough in front of the TV. Comfortable, even. In fact, the same held true of Marek's parents, his Ma still sitting at the other end of the couch and his Dad in the opposite armchair. Okay, this might not have been the most festive of gatherings, but I'd damn sure take that before seeing them all at each other's throats.

I settled down between my folks in their seats, getting a perfect view of Viktor and Magda dead ahead. Things might've not been terrible, but this awkwardness couldn't last. I had some pretty thick ice to break again.

Taking a leaf out of Marek's book, I ran through as many topics of conversation as I could think up. First, I asked about what his parents did for fun in Karnik, but that didn't go very far. When it came to Viktor, I only knew as much about rushball as Marek had taught me, and as for Magda... I knew even less about stuff like interior design.

After that, I relied on a bunch of throwaway questions, like how often they'd travelled here to Koprovice before, how much of it had they seen, and whether they'd enjoyed themselves. Finally, I even resorted to pressing more about their day-to-days when it came to work. The whole conversation was nice and polite, and it even got them asking more about me and my job as a trainer at the gym. They both feigned enough interest for me to believe it as genuine, with Magda coming out to call the way I met Marek there 'cute' and 'romantic'. My cheeks and ears went so warm, I'm positive she felt it, even over at the other end of the couch.

But, and it was a big but considering what I'd set out to achieve here, I still couldn't get my folks to chime in with anything more than subtle laughs or muttered sounds of agreement. My patience began to wear thin. I hadn't brought them here to be borderline mute for the whole day. That did it. Time for me to bring the conversation crashing down on them.

"You know, I've never actually been to Zolnia before. The closest I came was for a summer handball tournament back in high school, but we didn't qualify that year." I glanced at Ma to my left, then at Dad on my right. "We almost went the summer before that, didn't we? For a holiday."

"We did," Dad replied, rubbing his chin. "If I remember rightly... I couldn't get the time off from work."

"It was a shame," Ma added. "We did say we'd hope to do it at a later date, but that date just never came."

Marek's folks grew, ears lifting, postures straightening. At their size, it wasn't hard to spot. I'd found an angle. This had to be the moment for conversation to start flowing.

"That_is_ a shame," sang Magda, leaning closer towards us. "Whereabouts in Zolnia did you want to visit?"

"Well..." Ma settled back in her chair, paws clasped in her lap. "Pozrun, mostly."

"Oh! I love Pozrun." Magda's neat tail swept over the couch cushion beside her. "It's such a wonderful, pretty place. So many sights and so much history to see."

"Were you looking to visit anything in particular there?" Viktor asked with his head cocked. "I'm a country boy, y'see. It's quiet towns over big cities for me."

Marek's parents were all in, fully engaged and watching us with wide, maybe even hopeful eyes. My folks... they were smiling, but their tails showed a lot less life than the bigger ones across from us.

"I can't say that we put much thought into an actual itinerary," Ma stated. Balanced. Neutral. "We like to travel most summers, you see, and when we do go, it's to go sightseeing around landmarks, historical areas... and the like."

"A then-work colleague of mine recommended it," Dad added. "He'd visited the year previous I believe, and suggested it might make a change from our usual trips over to Polcia."

"Oh, I see." Magda lost none of her shine, or enthusiasm. "Well, I heavily recommend it, too. There's so much to do and to see... The president's residence with all its lovely gardens, right in the heart of the city, with so many museums and galleries all around."

"The stadium's pretty impressive," Viktor added, shooting me a grin. "Definitely more my scene than museums."

"Then there's Independence Square, with all the statues and monuments, and... and so much more. You could visit for a whole week and still not fit everything in."

We'd got the room jumping... compared with how it had been at least. I found much more comfort in sound. A far better scene than static silence. The bigger 'pandas across from us, they'd shown their preference, too.

As for my folks, they'd barely budged. Paws still clasped, they looked to each other, then to Marek's folks, then back again. This was Uncle Denis' birthday all over again. Quiet in the corner, and even more so whenever Auntie Zora and the rest of the Visoka-sized members of their family were around. At least then I had the option of hanging elsewhere, be it at the bar or with my cousins, large and small.

"If you ever decide to go visit there, you'll have to let me know." Magda wasn't giving up so easy. "I'm happy to give more suggestions about sights, and about places with the best Maleni access. In fact, I'd love to."

"Yes, thank you." Dad crept towards a full smile. The teeth he had on display didn't match up his tone. "We appreciate it."

"We'll be sure to let you know," said Ma. "...But I can't say there's a holiday in the pipeline for us right now."

That was it. After all the effort Marek's parents had put in, that_was the whole of their reply. No shock to see the conversation end there. Back came the quiet. I began to wonder if my folks were_trying to spoil things.

I couldn't help but watch Magda shift away at the far end of the couch. Resigning herself to watching more TV, I'm sure I could see the hurt and the annoyance. We'd taken her olive branch and snapped it in two.

Viktor, he shared that same sour expression, also resorting to the jokes and laughter confined to the television.

I felt sure that my folks never meant to sound so dismissive about their offer, about Pozrun, or about Zolnia itself. Whenever they got this way, distant and private, it always showed... but they just couldn't see it. Neither of them could ever claim to be big talkers, social butterflies or the like, but fuck if I didn't wanna stand up, throw out my arms and yell at them to lighten up! Enjoy some company! Not that it'd do much good. What chance of them breaking yet another habit of a lifetime? Ugh. The day ahead was looking awfully long from there...

I lasted minutes at best. The silence ground on me like claws down a chalkboard, and that old comedy show they had showing on TV sucked beyond belief. I'd done my best, but my best wasn't good enough. The time had come for a hasty retreat back to the kitchen, to Marek, and his counterful of bowls and plates.

"Hey," he called as I crossed from wood flooring onto tiles. "You're back."

"Yeah," I replied, mindful of those I'd left behind. "Thought I'd see what's up."

"Not much more than when you left me. You weren't gone all that long."

Our conversation needed to go on ice for a moment. At least for as long as it'd take me to ride the lift up to the counter. If nothing else, peering up at him from about level with the base of his shin never did the neck much good... Even if the angle flattered his size in all departments.

"How did it go out there?" came the question, barely a second after I'd stepped back onto the crowded countertop. "Sounds like you had them all talking at least."

"I_did_." I homed in on his big stomach. Much as I enjoyed it at the best of times, right then, all I wanted was to throw my arms out for a hug. "For a few minutes at least."

"Oh." My arms sank into my 'panda's amazing warmth, muzzle slipping through the gap in his shirt to let my fur touch his. His paw came next, tugging me into a near-full body cuddle. "What happened?"

"The same as what usually happens."

"Hmm? I don't understand."

"It's... nothing. Don't worry." I huffed into his thick brown-shaded bellyfur, earning a soothing rub of a finger between my shoulderblades. "Safe to say it's probably colder in there than it is outside in the rain. They're happier to sit watching TV together... alone."

Marek sighed, too, pushing his stomach even harder against the counter. Like a huge, fuzzy landslide, more of him rolled onto it, its weighty firmness giving way to press itself around me. A surefire way to strengthen and lift my spirits... amongst other things. "If nothing else, I suppose I prefer that to them being at each other's throats."

"That's what I thought, too."

"Great minds." He treated me to a smothering squeeze before easing our embrace. "I am glad you're here, though."

"Aww. Me too, hon."

"No... I meant here in the kitchen."

"Right..." I retreated back, stumbling over my fast tightening tail. "Uh, I knew that."

"Heh." His paw rushed out to help me keep balance, then moved up to rub under my chin. "I mean, I'm glad you're here, and here... And right now, a big reason for that is because I'm only ninety-percent certain I've got a handle on all this."

"Only ninety? ...Better than eighty."

"But_less_ than a hundred." He looked out over everything crowding the counter, head shaking harder by the second. "But, I took your advice, and I'm taking everything one step at a time."

"That's good."

"I've figured out the order of play. I know what I'm working on, and when. It's all scheduled. My head's straight."

"Scheduled?"

"Yeah..." His head tilted, eyes and mouth twitching. "What?"

"No, it... just sounds kinda like a military operation rather than cooking a meal."

"That's the way I do projects at work." His huge tail lashed hard enough for me to spot it beyond his lovehandles. "And the way I see it, cooking is just another project to be completed."

"Sounds... romantic."

He poked me in the side, firm but playful. His toothy grin backed that up. "You're more than welcome to take the lead if you reckon you can inject more romanticism into all of this."

I followed the sweep of his paw through the air, presenting to me this forest of waist-tall bowls and giant plates filled with uncooked veggies, dumplings and so much else. "Not in a million fuckin' years."

"Figured as much." He snorted hard, folding his arms. The triumph on his face didn't last. After all, he did say 'ninety-percent'. "But I do need your help."

"You've got it, hon."

That started his big, round cheeks lifting. "I need you to tell me if all this is enough food for everyone."

"Really?" I searched around this plastic forest, much of it blocked from view by the rest. "There's a lot here."

"That's what I thought, but... I've never cooked for a group of Maleni and Visoka all at once before. In fact, you were the first Maleni I'd ever cooked for."

"Aww." I knew my contentment wasn't what he wanted, but I couldn't hope to hide it. "You could've fooled me."

"I'm glad." He started to shift on his feet. A tug at his collar fluttered the rest of his shirt. "I don't think I'll be fooling anyone this time."

"Why do you say tha--?"

"This is only my second ever try at a Blessing Day dinner and this is... I'm struggling."

"You said you had a plan, and all this here looks pretty organised to me."

"Anyone can chop up vegetables, fold dumplings and unwrap a fish," he shot back, thumping a paw at the counter's edge to push away towards the fridge. The turquoise tips of his headfur gathered between the fingers he grabbed it with. "I'm in over my head."

"Wow. That must be deep."

"What?"

"You're a pretty big 'panda, after all."

The glare I got for that almost knocked me back onto my butt. "I'm serious."

"Okay, okay!" Up went my paws, palms out. "Sorry. I'm just playing."

"Not the time."

"My bad." I trotted to the end of the counter. My 'panda was too far away to grab and to comfort. "What are you struggling with?"

"It's..." His arm dropped, hauling his paw down from his head and into a heavy, stomach-shifting slap at his side. "I'm not sure how much to cook, or when, or for how long, how to prepare it, how I'll serve it all, what I'll--"

"Right, right, got it!" I put on as much of a smile as I could, beckoning him over to grab his paw. "That's a lot of not sures going on, but I can help you. I don't cook much, but I know what food looks like on my plate, so... that's something to shoot for."

"Wow, Sam..." He snatched his paw away, pressing it to his hip. "That exuded so much confidence. Really. It's lifting me as we speak."

"Okay then, smartmouth." I threw my own paws at myself to match him, letting the corner of my mouth creep upwards. "Why don't we do first things first and work out exactly how much food we've got here, hmm?"

I forgave my 'big panda his attitude in the time it took to walk over to the first bowl of mixed vegetables. He was worried. Scared, even. His eyes always gave him away, never mind his words. All the more motivation to join him in getting all this food totted up for reassurance.

These bowls alone really were stuffed full. I hadn't realised until the time came to peer in over their rims. We had two kinds of stuffed dumplings here, potato and chicken, all prepped and primed to be boiled. A huge pot of mushroom soup loomed large, sat ready on the stove for heating. The sides and garnishes were here, too. Potato salad, spiced vegetables, all sorts of different spreads, surrounding a huge loaf of bread waiting to be sliced and served along with them. That wasn't to mention the pan of fish on the opposite counter, set to be accompanied to the table by the bottles of wine beside it, Visoka and Maleni-sized.

"This is more than enough, big 'panda," I insisted, still taken by the two me-sized mounds of dumplings threatening to spill out onto the counter. "This all looks amazing."

"Thank you." The cute smile and subtle shrug I got from him lifted my heart. "Quite a bit of it is... readymade."

"Hon, let me tell you, if it were me cooking for New Year's, we'd be having... noodles, and... more noodles, washed down with all that wine over there."

He laughed hard, grabbing me into the largest, closest hug of the day so far. Both paws snuggled me into his stomach, one covering the whole of my bottom half, the other the top. A stray finger stroked the back of my head, then the side of my cheek and muzzle as I turned to get air, slowly sinking into his soft, mountainous bulk as I was. So amazing, so cosy, I almost forgot about everything else he'd asked for my help with. "Oh, uh, as for serving all of this, if you cut and dish up what's for me and my folks when it's done, I can finish the prep while you take care of the rest."

Marek breathed easier. His big body rocked from the power of his exhale. "That sounds like a good plan. Thank you."

So happy to see his relief, from perking ears to sweet smile, I hated that this'd be the moment to be blindsided by a cold chill of realisation. My first instinct was to bury it deep, keep it from him and let the good times roll. That wasn't an option. Not one that'd do anything but kick the figurative can down the road anyhow.

Marek's contentment slipped. The signs of his relief drained. "What wrong?"

My fur prickled and my tail swept right between my legs. "Uhm..."

"Uhm?" He rolled his shoulders, tugged his collar and leaned away. "What uhm? I don't like uhms. Not now and not today."

The chill froze me to the spot. My jaw hung open, damn near bolted in place. It couldn't save me. No matter my instincts, I had to tell him.

"Sam," he snapped, more in fear than anger. "What is it?"

"My Ma... She's a vegetarian."

That rocked Marek hard. Literally. He reeled back with a heavy stomp, his own jaw dropping, eyes widening. One paw grabbed the fridge handle. I wanted to hide behind the mount of dumplings. "If you're kidding around right now, it's not funny."

"Uh..." A monstrous itch on the back of my neck demanded all claws scratch it. "I wish I was."

"Gods above... I can't believe this." His other paw raced up to make an unholy mess of his headfur. "I've... Almost everything I've got here's got meat in it."

I glanced around, did the analysis in my own head, too. Fuck... He wasn't wrong."

"And you're telling me this only now?" His tail lashed hard against the fridge. "Really!?"

"You never asked!"

"You think I should need to?"

"If you wanna know something, generally it's a smart move."

"What the fu--" He jolted to a pause, grimacing towards the archway, then scowling back at me on the counter. "What did you think I was going to cook!? It's New Year's. You always have fish." His arms folded so hard that the whole kitchen seemed to shake. "Same holds true here in Vodaskal as well, right?"

"...Right."

"Then why are you only saying this now--!?"

"Because I fucked up!" Out went my arms, amplifying my cry and my growls. "I should have told you. Happy?"

Marek groaned, snarling easing into an unstable scowl. He grabbed his headfur again. A short, sharp huff made it all that way across to me. His eyes closed and creased in a way I hated to see. "Damn it, Sam."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine..." His arm dropped, eyes reopening to peer in desperation out of the window above and behind me. "Well, it's not, but it's done now."

"You've got some veggie stuff here at least."

"Yeah. the soup... some of the sides and the potato dumplings. Hardly a meal."

"Is everything okay?" Magda called from the living room, out of sight around the corner.

"I hope you haven't dropped my plate," Viktor jibed, tossing out a muted grunt in response to what sounded like a playful slap on the arm.

"Everything's fine," Marek muttered back. If they heard him, I doubted they'd have believed him. Either way, their inquiring stopped there.

He turned back to me, arms still tightly crossed. My 'panda wasn't a happy one. I stood there silent, waiting to be told how I could help change that.

I ended up tucked into Marek's shirt pocket, hanging on throughout all the dips, tips, sways and spins. He never stated it outright, but we were on a frantic hunt to find something veggie-friendly buried somewhere in his cupboards, fridge or freezer. How much help I could be here I wasn't sure of, but I didn't have the heart or the desire to question it. At the very least, I could offer him a second pair of eyes.

We must've been searching for a good ten minutes in this small kitchen of his. Not a single place that a solution could hide in remained untouched. As disappointment came one blow after another, my fur frizzed and my heart sank. The growing despair in Marek's grunts and growls rumbled through me with building intensity. I sat there waiting, gripping the top of his pocket, certain that another argument would arrive once we got done scouring the freezer.

"Ah!" Marek shook with how hard he yanked at the bottom drawer, crawling closer to have a good rummage through it. "Yes! I forgot I still had this."

"Had what?" I tried to search with him. Box after bag after tub moved with his digging paws, until he claimed some ice-covered package from the very back and bottom of the drawer.

"I got this on special a couple of months ago at least, for a recipe I saw but never bothered to try..." He brushed off the crystal white, holding it right beneath the fabric supporting me. "Please, _please_tell me your Ma isn't allergic to nuts or anything like that."

A 'classic' nut loaf was the prize Marek clung to so tight. I had more questions than answers. "What the hell kinda recipe calls for something like that?"

"Some... thing. I don't remember, and I don't much care right now." He closed the drawer, then the door, shifting and swaying as we moved back up from the floor together. "Should be good."

"Is that a question or a statement?"

"Sam." Marek dumped the pack onto the counter. Damn, the daggers he glared at me cut deep. "Now's not the time to try and be clever."

Ouch... "And now's not the time to be a huge jerk, either."

He sighed, closed his eyes and nodded. The delicateness of his paw scooping me from his pocket offered something of an apology.

"It'll probably be fine, Marek."

"Only probably?"

"Okay, definitely." His left ear perked, head tilting with it. "It's not my thing, but Ma likes that kinda stuff. Is that good enough for you?"

"It'll do." The rest of him lifted. "Thank the gods... We just need to work out how best to cook it now..."

Marek took a moment to read the back of the box he'd dropped beside the fish. Sat in his paws, peering up at the fuzzy white underside of his muzzle, it came to me. A way that I could actually, properly help out for real. "Hey! I've got it."

"Hmm?"

"Set me down." My tail brushed over his fingers. "Down on the ground."

"O...kay." His brow furrowed, one corner of his mouth lifting to put teeth on show. Still, he did as I asked.

I rushed over to the small nook that housed the Maleni-sized kitchen section, nestled in the corner between the fridge and the wall. It wasn't a part of the apartment I'd seen much of, but I'd passed it enough to know that it came fully kitted out. "I can take some here."

"Wait, Sam--"

"If you can break some off, put it in a little pot, we can use the oven you've got in here."

"I guess, but--"

"It'll work." I took a proper look from the threshold. Everything Marek had in the kitchen, he had a scaled-down version here, too. "Everything'll be fine."

Two big, heavy steps brought him rumbling over, cutting off the light from the window opposite. I spun around, peered up high... and found his hefty, beaming self offering a glow instead. "That's a great idea, little 'panda, but..."

"But, what?"

"I don't think anything down there has been used since I moved in. Probably hoarding all kinds of dirt and dust."

"Really?" My ears flicked. "Not once?"

"Why would I?" Marek's gaze gained more sympathy, though that grin remained. "I'd have a hard time getting my groceries in that fridge, or cooking myself dinner using that little oven in there."

"Yeah..." Ugh. Standing there deep in his shadow, it felt like the ground had given way beneath me. "Good point."

He snerked, then let a little 'aww' roll out. Peering up high again, Marek looked way too happy about this bump in the road. "You know, we can always just cook the whole thing and slice some off after. It's not like I'm saving it for anything."

"Oh! Y-Yeah." The ground collapsed even further. His shadow darkened. Sam, you dumb... "I, uh, didn't think of that."

His tail twirled. "According to the instructions, it'll cook at a similar temperature to the fish. If we put it on now, it should be ready in time."

I walked away from the nook, towards the tree-like thigh rising from the knee that Marek took for me. "So everything'll work out."

"Yeah." His handpaw settled down to the tiles. "I think we're gonna be fine."

"All that panicking for nothing, huh?"

"Maybe." He glanced away, scratching behind an ear. "Probably."

"Definitely." I hopped up into his palm, sitting down on his cushiony pad. "What else do you need me to help with?"

"Plenty." Up we went, his soft, safe paws taking me closer to his sweetening smile. "Let's get to it."

---

(Marek)

With Sam at my side, or rather, jinking and darting around the countertop, I succeeded in getting past this mountain of a mental block that my skittish head threw up. This was just a meal, albeit more complex than the usual fare I fixed for myself, but it had me far more frazzled than any project I'd ever had cross my path at work.

We set to and solved every task in front of us, from figuring out portion sizes to scheduling when to cook, boil and heat everything up. In turn, that gave us the time and space to start bouncing back and forth between the kitchen and living room; a partnership doing their utmost not to ruin dinner, and to get our parents engaging with one another.

Mere talking and conversing wouldn't be enough in itself, that much was clear. The TV served too strong a temptation to draw everyone back in. Of course, I had the option of switching it off... but what then if that just created more silence? We needed a more sociable distraction to come into play...

"Shall we play a game? Liven things up?" I suggested from in front of the television, putting my big self to good use, as Sam might've put it. "I've got Regicide?"

"Oof." Dad threw himself back in his chair. "Now, I love that, but d'you really wanna go down that route?"

"What?" I glanced back over my shoulder to my cabinet. The box sat at the very top of my board game pile. "Come on, we play this every New Year's."

"And every New Year's, it ends up in an argument."

He had a point... but argument or not, I'd risk some tension if only to get the fun and raised voices that came before it. "Not _every_year."

"More or less," Ma said through a scoff, smiling at Sam standing where I'd set him on the coffee table. "And I really don't think you want to be putting Sam and his parents through all our nonsense."

"I really don't mind," he replied, sitting down on my six-tall stack of wooden coasters. "I've played it with Marek a few times. It's fun."

"Oh, Sam, sweetie, you don't know what you're letting yourself in for here..."

I let him chat with Ma and Dad some more about the fittingly volatile Gorecki family history surrounding Regicide, turning my focus instead to his parents over on the far arm of the couch. Sitting there as quiet, reserved and insular as was fast becoming the norm, they appeared content to talk amongst themselves.

"Have you ever played it before?" My question was posed to either of them. I received an answer from neither. "It's a great game. A fair amount to it, with lots of dice rolling and drawing cards and combat based upon them, but not once have I played a boring session."

"No... Can't say that I have," Sam's Dad replied.

"We've never really played many board games," his Ma added.

"Far more into games about general knowledge and quizzing," Sam called. "Stuff like Regicide is much more my kinda scene."

His parents looked at each other, said something for their ears only. Finally, Mrs. Cerveny then offered me a nod. "We can play."

"Nice!" Dad slapped his knee, forcing a creak from the armchair with how fast he climbed to his feet. "I'll set it all up."

"Thanks, Dad."

He nudged me in the side as he passed. "I still owe you for last New Year's."

"You still remember that!?"

"Of course! You cheated."

"Getting you back for all your taunting is not cheating. It's tactics."

"Pfft. Tactics."

"Yes." I grinned at him as he reached up to retrieve the box from about my eye level. "Same tactics I'll be using again today."

We had ourselves a short stint of ribbing, most centred around what history we could recall of our festive Regicide sessions. From that game last year, I regaled Dad with every detail to my comeback victory, such as smacking him down in combat despite having two less dice to roll, helped along by a stat boost card I'd been saving. After that, he could only watch as I went on to scale the castle walls with another strong roll, defeating the king on the very last turn of the game.

Ma then chimed in to recall another game from ten years or so ago, during my first New Year's visit back home from university here in Koprovice. That was the year that Dad and Uncle Jerzy started off the biggest, loudest Regicide row to date, the latter accusing the former of sneaking a look at the decks before deciding which to draw a new card from. That game was the first and only not to finish, and while I didn't want a repeat of that disaster, we needed some high spirits here. If this game couldn't bring them, then I was at a loss to know what might.

After some more jumping to and from the kitchen while Dad set up the board on the coffee table, Sam and I managed to settle down long enough to draw cards and make a couple of moves apiece. The chatter had yet to flow, but early game, with people assessing their hands and subsequent tactics, that much was to be expected

I had to excuse myself earlier than I'd have liked to, but as I said as I stood up, 'food must take priority'. Sam, my sweet, mouthy little 'panda, took great pleasure in batting back a well-timed, 'what's new?'. Both the light tug of his tail and a firm, face-dampening lick were more than deserved on our walk back to begin the closing stages of our meal prep.

Our cooking times had worked out perfectly. The nut loaf and the fish were coming along hand in hand, filling the apartment with heartening, roasty aromas, tinged with mouthwatering hints of fresh herbs and tart lemon. We weren't far away from being ready at that point. Time then to start working on the soup and the sides, with Sam taking some knives and ladles in hand to begin portioning up some more manageable Maleni-sized helpings. We'd reached the final stretch. Nothing could go wrong from here.

"Hon," Sam called from the counter behind me. "When you're done showing off for me, could you scoop me up some more potato salad please?"

I stood up from my latest check of the fish in the oven, turning to face my little 'panda and his big, growing grin. "You should be focusing on the food, not me."

"How can I not when I've got your best side swaying all up in my face?"

"And how am I up in your face all the way over here?"

"I think you forget sometimes just how damn huge your butt is." The reddish and white rings of his tail swayed for me. "Not that I'm complaining in the slightest."

"That's a big mouth for a small 'panda." Two steps took me from the oven to the counter. Snorting, bumping him with the bottom of my belly, I forced him to angle the crane of his neck even steeper. "Don't go and make me sit on you."

"Don't go and make me enjoy it."

He stole from me another, way harder snort. A quick, gentle hug was his prize. "How much more do you need?"

"A couple more potato slices please. And some cream."

Easy enough. I grabbed the serving spoon, still in the open tub of salad, leisurely gathering up one thick slice of potato, then another, followed by some extra cream to go along with them.

That extra cream though, half-hanging from the edge of the spoon, turned out to be hiding a stowaway third chunk; a fact I failed to realise until it jumped clear onto the counter. "Crap!"

A slice as big as a Maleni-size saucer fell straight towards Sam. Lucky for me he'd been far more attentive, ducking and sidestepping before it could hit him square on the snout. Unluckily for me, and for Sam, that extra cream added a splash zone that he found himself well within.

A thick dollop of white leapt up from the counter. Rushed towards him. Time stood still for me. All I could do was watch him spin on his heels, just in time to catch the spray.

It. Went. Everywhere. From his knees all the way up to his shocked, wide open muzzle. Not a sound to be heard, other than the beat that my heart skipped. "Sam..."

He spread his arms, looking over himself in shocked silence. Not a place to be found on his sweater or trousers had been left unspattered.

I put my paw to my own hanging mouth and froze. His accusing blue eyes came for me. The creasing of his muzzle only got worse once I let another dirty snort and a choked chuckle squeeze out through my fingers.

My little 'panda, I'd never seen him so hurt. Nor had I ever heard him bark or growl as loud as he did right then. "Don't laugh at me!"

"S-Sorry, sorry!" I clamped down tighter, trying in vain to stop my spluttered amusement from pouring out.

"You don't sound it!" He batted out an arm, flicking cream all over the counter. The chunk he went on to kick out of the potato just set me off further. "Marek!"

"You look more like potato than 'panda right now." I held up my paw. "Like you dove head first into the tub, oh gods."

"You big... Jerk!" His tail lashed about. The rest of him, too. He bent down to tear off a pawful of cream-soaked potato, spinning and winding up as if to throw it right at me. "You're lucky I like that shirt of yours."

"And I'm also lucky I'm too far away for you to hit me."

"Argh!" He hurled the potatoball as hard as he could, almost slipping on the mess I'd made. To his credit, Sam did chuck it a fair distance. Too bad for him that it could only sail between my legs as I lurched forward, making sure that he didn't tumble to the floor along with it.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Honest." I scooped him up in both paws, lifting his pouting, grumbling self all the way up to my face. "I feel terr--"

Sam slapped the top of my nose so hard that I actually winced. The leftover cream went all over, spraying all the way up to the bridge of my muzzle. "There. We're even."

"Hey," I sang out, licking up at my nose. "Well, it tastes good at least."

His stony expression began to crumble, helped along by a wink and a bump of my nose at his chest. "You're still a big jerk."

"The biggest," I chuckled. "Let's go and get some tissue to clean you up."

"Marek," Ma called, a moment before appearing at the archway. "It's your turn to play."

"One sec." I settled Sam on the corner counter section where I kept the paper towel. "I just need to fix something."

"Oh?" She sounded her curiosity from behind me. It didn't take her long to spot the problem. "Oh no. Sam, sweetie, what happened?"

He sank from his ears to his shoulders, shrinking into an even smaller 'panda. "Accident."

"I made a mess with the spoon," I explained, ripping off the corner of a towel to offer him before tearing off a bigger section to use myself. "Sam got a little up close and personal with some potato salad."

"Oh, Marek," she groaned.

"I know, I know, my fault--"

"You need to get those clothes in to soak right now. Some dabbing with paper towels isn't going to cut it."

I gave it a shot anyway... but Ma had it right. No matter how much Sam or I scrubbed, the horrible white marks we'd left on his nice blue sweater were ruinous. Unacceptable.

"See?"

"We'll do it now." I turned to face her. "I'll go grab Sam's bag so he can get a change of clothes, if you can wait a minute for me to come take my turn?"

"Of course." Her voice carried like a song, but I'm sure I saw a grimace as she stepped back out through the archway. "We'll... talk while we wait."

"Thanks, Ma." I spun back around to Sam. Silent, frowning, the way he was peering up at me kinda threw me off. "Shall I?"

"Shall you, what?"

"Go get your bag. Like I told Ma."

He shook his head, looking at me almost outraged. "I don't know what the hell you were talking about."

My turn to frown. "We were just... right then." Then it hit me. Gods. My frown flipped in an instant. "Were we speaking Zolnian just then?"

"Yeah, I guess!" He spread his arms and shrugged. "One minute you were talking about my getting up close and personal with the potato salad, which is bullshit by the way."

"I know--"

"Then... Iunno what was said then."

"Sorry." I kneeled down, bringing my chin down to the counter to meet Sam on his terms. "My parents have a habit of doing that, and it's hard to realise that I've followed sometimes."

"It's fine, I guess." He reached down to pet my nose resting level with his knees. It seemed to help his anger leave him. "Kinda sounds like my folks when they randomly decide to practice their Vodak around the house."

"You don't join them?"

"Nah. Velikan suits me day to day." Sam upped his workrate, both paws now rubbing the fur around my whiskers. "Plus I'm not that great with it anyhow."

"Perfect reason to start."

"Maybe." The creasing of his mouth said he wasn't convinced. "Languages have never been my strong point. Leaning Polcian back at school was enough work for me, and there's a lot more of that around than an old language like Vodak."

"I guess that's fair."

"You can be the multilingual of the two of us." He straddled my snout. Sat down softly and smiled. "I've always said you're good with your tongue."

"Heh, thanks." I matched him, enjoying the tickle of his tail on my nose... watching that smile of his grow into a bigger and wider grin. "Oh you! ...Horny."

He snorted so hard that he rocked on my muzzle. "Yeah."

"Come on, you." I offered my paw as a backrest, holding him in place as I rose to stand. "Let's get you a change of trousers and put those ones in the wash with your sweater, before your horny goes and creates even more laundry."

Our potato-based disaster didn't come without its silver linings. After a quick change and tossing Sam's cream-covered clothes in the wash, I caught a proper glimpse of him standing in wait atop the washing machine. He'd slipped on a pair of close-fitting training bottoms, forgoing another jumper and opting instead to put his cute navy blue v-neck shift firmly on display. The colour really did a fantastic job of setting off his reddish orange fur, and its fit, along with his bottoms, emphasised that athletic little build of his. Such a handsome 'panda. He'd have to try hard not to look good in something.

"What?" he asked beneath a chuckle. "Don't tell me I've got a stain on any of this, too."

"No, no." My heart beat faster. The air itself smelled sweet. "You don't."

"Then what?"

I leaned down, partially to pick him back up again, but more to bring him in range of the slow, soft kiss I left on his cheek. "I just remembered how hot my boyfriend is."

"Aww." My little Sam leaned up to share his own affection, grabbing both sides of my muzzle and kissing deep between my lips. His blue eyes sparkled. He almost lifted me off of my feet. "That's sweet... But you still better hope my sweater's not ruined."

"Hah!" Gods, how could I not love him? "I'll pray that I can avoid your wrath."

"Good. You should do."

"Let's get back to this game." He deserved another kiss. "I'm sure I was winning."

Looking back, the way Ma hesitated over returning to 'talk' while waiting for us made perfect sense. Once Sam and I had settled, myself on the floor and him up on the coffee table, insisting on playing the role of counter mover, the only talk to be found revolved around the game itself.

Whenever a card had to be picked or played, we had a brief reading of the descriptive text by my parents, or by Sam on his parents' behalf once I'd grabbed their selection for him. When it came to either his turn or mine, we did what we could to liven things up, mostly with taunts and joking about how we were almost certainly, definitely about to destroy one another, but it all fell on deaf ears. The quiet conquered all. No laughing, no screaming, no blaming each other for screwing up in what was essentially a game of chance, no real chatting either. Just business. In that respect, Sam's parents' attire made more and more sense, quietly overseeing us from their vantage on the arm of the couch, barely engaging other than to tell Sam where to move their counter once I'd rolled their dice. The temptation to crack open some of that wine in the hope it might loosen tongues was very real.

Mrs. Cerveny caught me watching her while my Dad played his move. She actually jerked with surprise in her seat, but managed to push out a sweet smile for me before focusing back on the board. I had no doubts they were decent people, both her and Sam's Dad, but just so...painfully reserved. Anxious, even. Like Sam when we first met at the gym, but to the nth degree, or maybe even further beyond. Quiet enough to suggest they'd discovered some totally new, advanced concept of mathematical power and applied it to their awkwardness. In fact, I'd go as far as to say they held the same kind of timid, nervous aura that my Polcian colleagues often have when visiting the main site here, meeting Visoka-sized people in the fur for the very first time.

Thinking like that jabbed at my stomach. Tearing them down internally was far from kind, but gods, they couldn't have been further from my parents. Outspoken and outgoing, never afraid to chat or liven up a room, for better or worse. Polar opposites in every regard.... Usually.

I turned my attention to them, quiet in their seats with tails swept up around them, settled in their laps. We'd seen a complete clash of character, from which both sides had fared badly. At least we didn't have much longer to wait until we'd have food to distract us all. Claws crossed that spraying Sam with potato salad would be the worst to happen on that front.