Keeping Awake
"What ... "
"Kit Kat bars. Reese's cups. Mm ... peanut butter granola bars ... "
"That's not a supper."
"Well, it's ... "
"Junk?"
The mouse stared at it. Blinked. "Um ... well, I don't know."
"You're normally so self-conscious about your food. What you eat. You normally don't ... "
"Splurge?"
"Well, you don't," the lion said. Staring at the candies. The food.
The mouse and lion quiet for a moment.
The mouse breaking the silence with a hushed, "You want a Kit Kat bar?"
A smile crept onto the lion's face.
The mouse, still whispering, explaining, "They're orange with a chocolate ...wafer. For autumn."
"Why are you whispering?"
Field paused. "Um ... I don't know," he said, and he turned. Smiled. A shy, innocent smile. Bright as yellow.
"So, this is our supper?"
"Just this once. Just tonight. Just ... a little treat. It's Friday," said Field.
"What's there to drink?"
"Hmm?" The mouse's whiskers twitched. Twitched and sniffed.
"Well, considering this ... smorgasbord of food, what've you got to drink?"
"Pepsi Lime."
A chuckle.
"Well, with this ... cherry alcohol stuff. Mix it. You know."
"So, was this spur of the moment, or ... "
"Look, I was at the Marsh, after work ... I ... wanted to bring home some snack items, and ... "
"You're an impulse shopper."
"I am not," he objected. "No, just ... some things caught my eye."
"Uh-huh."
"Look, darling ... "
"Honey, I'm only teasing."
"Oh."
A grin. A shake of the head. "You're probably gonna regret this after you eat it all."
"We. We're gonna regret it."
"Mm ... well, I think I'll pass on the candy."
"Mm ... well, I probably will, too. I just ... wanna nibble."
"Mouses and their nibbling."
"Hey, it works," said Field, going to get some glasses. With some ice. And the cubes did their clink-clink ... fogging up the glasses.
"What time is it?" the lion asked. From the couch.
"Um ... 11:14."
"Are you serious?"
The mouse looked again. "Oh. No, it's ... 10:14. Well, 10:15 now."
"I was gonna say ... "
" ... that this is an awfully late supper?"
"That I didn't think it was that late."
"I don't think the day went by that fast," said Field, bringing the glasses back to the couch. Setting them down on the television table/tray in front of them. "I mean, it's ... time is always constant. I mean, it's ... forever and a day. It's ... it feels like so long ... and no time at all. It's ... all balances out."
"Mm ... well, I guess it depends on your perspective."
The mouse opened the soda. Poured half a glass for himself. Half for the lion. "Well ... I just don't like it when ... I mean ... time is constant. It's there. It's here. It's now. And ... I don't like it when others waste it. I hate it," Field said quietly, mixing some alcohol into the soda. " ... hate it when furs complain they're bored. Life is rich, full ... all the details, emotions, and ... no matter where you are, there's ... beauty, and ... motion. I just ... I don't know."
"Mm. You've said all of this before, honey."
"Yeah?" Field sat down next to the lion.
"We're mates. I think I know you a bit by now." A smile.
A giggle. "Yeah. I don't mean to ... always repeat myself. I just ... sometimes, I blab. And, often, I blab in circles."
"Better than not blabbing at all, I guess. I ... I mean, some might envy you."
"Why?"
"You always have something to say. Something to think about. Something ... you're always full."
"Well, not yet," said Field, staring at the candy.
A chuckle. "You know what I mean. Like ... spiritually. You're ... full of things to share, things that have happened ... hopes ... you know."
The mouse blushed. Quiet.
The lion sipped at his drink. And then took a bigger sip. A gulp.
The mouse watched him.
"What?"
"Nothing," Field whispered.
"You alright?" The lion sloshed the drink in his glass. The ice cubes going ... clink-clink-clink.
"I'm just ... tired. A bit," admitted the mouse. "I'm ... " And exhale. " ... keeping awake."
"You that tired?"
"I woke up at 6 ... "
"I don't like it when you do that."
"I know," Field whispered. "I ... can't sleep later than that. I ... conditioned myself for so long, you know, to wake up early, and ... I grew up on a farm, you know. I'm an early riser."
"You're always tired."
Field sipped at his drink. Larger sips ... each time. And he breathed through his twitching, sniffing nose. His snaky, pink tail ... silky and bare ... wrapped around his mate's shorter, feline tail. Swaying with it. Absently.
"Honey ... "
"I just ... darling, there's ... SO much to feel, to see, to do ... to say, to write, to ... taste, to ... life ... and ... " The mouse took a few gulps of his drink. Exhaling. "There's so much. I can't miss any of it. I mean, with ... working all day, and ... there's no time. I can't ... I don't know how long I'll be down here, in this life, on this ... I have to be productive. Every minute," he whispered.
The lion nibbled on a Ritz cracker. The mouse had neglected to mention the tubes of Ritz crackers, but the lion had seen them ... opened one. Was nibbling like a mouse. Which Field found to be ... very quaint. And he wondered if Fuzzy was doing that on purpose.
Field eyed the Reese's cups.
"Have one," said Fuzzy. "If you want."
"Well, I don't know if I do."
"Well ... "
"They'll melt. I'll get chocolate on my paws."
"I'll lick it off."
A giggle. A shake of the head. "Too much ... sweet. I don't know. You know, I buy all this stuff, and at the time, it's ... the greatest idea, and then I ... set it all in front of me, and I don't want to touch it. I just ... look at it. Like cookies. I can make cookies ... but I can never eat them. I make them, but ... never eat them. Isn't that odd?"
"You want an answer?" A smile.
"You can say it. I'm odd," said the mouse, leaning back on the couch. Against the cushions on the back.
"You're not odd."
"Mm," went Field. Ears going ... swivel-swivel.
"Your paw okay?"
"Mm?"
"You burned it last week. Remember?"
"Of course I remember," muttered Field. He had come home ... crying, sobbing ... shaking. From the burns on the back of his paw. Suffered at work. Holding in the tears for two hours, his paw throbbing, searing ... and as soon as he'd clocked out and left the building, he broke into hysterics, sobbing and praying and driving home.
And Fuzzy had taken care of him. Had soothed him.
It's what mates did.
And Fuzzy was the best mate Field could envision. And ...
" ... better?"
"What?" Field blinked.
"Is it feeling any better?"
"Much," said Field. "It doesn't hurt at all now. The blisters popped, and ... well, I don't know. It may scar beneath the fur."
"No one will notice."
"Well, I don't mind. It's ... a souvenir of ... life. You know. I don't mind. It's a story to tell."
"You gotta slow down with that drink, hun."
"What?"
"You downed it."
The mouse exhaled through the nose. Twitching. Sniffing. Swallowing. "Guess I need another."
"Well, you drink too much."
"I've never gotten drunk in my life. And I didn't have my first taste of alcohol ... until I was legal. You know that."
"Well, I was there, so ... I would know. But ... you still drink too much."
"I don't know."
"Well, you don't need it every day. Even if you're only using it to relax, it's ... it worries me."
"Well, I'll stop."
The lion looked to him.
"I will," Field insisted. A bit defensive.
Fuzzy nodded quietly. "Okay."
Field twitched, looking back at the candy. Debating. Deciding (still) against having any of it. It was better to look at. To think about. Stuff like that hardly tasted as sweet as the promise of it. The idea of it.
Fuzzy chomped on a Ritz.
Field remained food-less. Not having had a bite of anything. Simply sipping at the remainders of his drink.
"Not hungry?"
"No ... "
"Tired?"
A nod. A pause. "Today, I was going to the bank ... in Sheridan, you know, and ... on the way, I saw the sign that said ... 'Kokomo: 29 miles ... South Bend: 119 miles' ... I thought what it would be like if we just, one day, just ... drove to those places."
"Never been to South Bend. Been to Kokomo."
"I've been to both, but ... not recently. It's ... I love Indiana, you know. It's ... I know no one else does," Field whispered, going quiet. "But that's their problem. I ... want to see it. All of my home. All the places, the ... little towns ... the fields. No mountains. No oceans. No distractions. Just ... fields. Skies. Just ... every season. Just ... I don't know. I want to know my home before ... ever potentially traveling elsewhere. How could I ever appreciate other places ... if I have no appreciation of where I'm from? My own heritage," the mouse whispered. "My own birthright." Pause. "I just have to think that ... when ... if you hate your home, you ... hate a part of yourself. Our environment shapes us, you know. It makes me sad when furs long to flee ... from where they are. I ... when they can't see anything good. You can't run from yourself." Pause. "I just ... I learned that, you know. I ... you gotta deal with things. Think them through. Confront them. Distraction never ... never works," Field whispered, swallowing. "You bury things, and they take root inside you. You ignore them, and they peck at your exterior. You gotta deal with it."
Fuzzy remained quiet. Listening.
"So ... anyway, I think Kokomo's a good name. But I'm a Hoosier mouse born and bred, so ... I'm slightly out of synch."
A slight chuckle. "I guess so."
The mouse went quiet again. "Can I have a Ritz? I mean ... may I? Please."
"Honey, you bought them."
"They're for the both of us. And you have the open tube."
"Well ... I don't know," the lion teased, as if considering.
"Hey," said Field, smiling.
"Alright. You can have some ... " And he handed over the tube.
Field took it. Took a few of the crackers. Holding them with both paws. Nibbling. Going ... nibble-nibble.
"I love how mice eat. It's ... so cute. You're so cute."
Field blushed. Saying nothing. Quiet for a moment. Then, "You're cuter."
"Mm?"
"You are," was all Field said.
"Is it a contest?" A slight smile.
"No," said the mouse. And he breathed. Breathed. Finished one of the crackers. And put the others onto the table/tray. And reached for the lion's glass. "Can I?" Pause. "Mine's empty."
"Just don't drink too much."
The mouse nodded timidly. Took the lion's glass ... and took two or three gulps. And then swallowed, and he breathed deep. Closed his eyes. Gave the glass back.
"You feeling it?"
The mouse nodded. Eyes still closed.
"Well, no more."
He nodded again. Opening his eyes.
"Honey ... "
"Darling ... "
"Yes?"
"Am I ... I love you. You know."
"I love you, too," the lion whispered.
The mouse returned the whisper. Repeating, "I love you so much." His voice broke. Cracked a bit. He was a very emotional mouse. He cried several times a week. It was a way of ... release. Of ... emotional crescendo. His tears were familiar to the lion.
Fuzzy seeing the mouse's eyes, saying, "Honey, don't get choked up ... okay?"
Field swallowed. Nodded. Sniffled. Nodded.
"I love you, okay?"
A nod. "I just ... I long to be a light in your life. So bright, so ... warm. To glow. I ... never, ever wanna be a burden to you."
"You're not. Honey, seriously, don't worry about it. You worry too much."
"I know," Field whispered.
Quiet.
A breath. A licking of his own lips. And Field sighed, clearing his throat. And he leaned forward ... gently. Quietly. And kissed the lion's furry cheek.
A little chuckle.
"What?" Field whispered.
"Honey ... "
"I'm sorry," said the mouse, pulling back. "I know. I know I said I'm tired, and I am, but ... we haven't ... in a while, and I'm ... I want it. I want you. I ... please," said the mouse.
"I think you're tipsy."
"I'm not tipsy. Why ... why would I need to be tipsy to want you ... you're beautiful."
Fuzzy met his eyes.
Field blushed. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"No. Don't be," said the lion. Leaning forward himself, and ... kissing the mouse's lips. Softly. A soft, moist kiss. And breaking it.
And Field kissed back. Perhaps a little over-eager.
The lion chuckled and pulled back. "Honey," he went.
"Sorry," apologized the mouse.
"And I thought we'd gotten over the ... apologizing thing. You don't need to do that all the time."
"I'm ... " The mouse caught himself. Blushed, looking to the carpet. "I know. I ... okay."
Another kiss.
Field closed his eyes. Gave an airy chitter-squeak from the throat.
And the lion broke the kiss. And went for Field's ear. The mouse loved to have his ears nibbled on ... blown into. His dishy-like ears.
Fuzzy purred into Field's ears.
Field sighed, and ... leaned back ... to his back. On the cushion of the couch. Fumbling with his clothes. Wriggling out of them.
Fuzzy chuckled.
Field blushed. Squeaking as his tail got tangled in his shorts. Squeaking with high pitches.
"Baby, calm down," whispered the lion, and he freed the mouse's tail.
Field's arms reaching out and wrapping round his mate. Hugging so dearly, so tightly. And pulling him down atop of him. Lion atop the mouse. Lion wriggling out of his own clothes. Until they were both bare, in the fur. On the couch. Late at night.
Only hungry for each other. And neither close to sleep.