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The state highway wove gently through miles and miles of incredible foliage, even for so late in the year. Many trees had lost leaves, but not all, and many of the leaves - yellow, gold, brown, red, purple, orange - were piled up in huge heaps along the road and on the sloping hills stretching out on either side. The late afternoon was cool, just enough clouds to make the sun seem to play hide and seek in the huge country sky.

Bobby lay back in the passenger seat of the car, feeling the luxury of being away from campus, away from town, away from everything. He wasn't exactly a practitioner of Zen, or even really able to grasp the idea of a koan, but he was beginning to think that he could understand the idea of "living in the moment." Right now, just at this moment, he felt so perfectly relaxed and yet aware of everything. The beautiful scenery, the cool breeze from the partially-open window teasing his lion's mane gently, the fresh air smelling crisp and slightly earthy, the soft sounds of music from the dashboard MP3 system, the comfortable leather-lined bucket seat, and best of all these, the presence of his tiger lover only inches away.

Smiling softly, not wanting to disturb the dedicated driver, he reached a forepaw to touch the tiger's shoulder gently. Malcolm took his eyes off the road for just a second, smiling back at the lion. "What?" he said.

"Nothing," the lion returned. "Just can't do that out in the world, back at school. No matter how much I might want to."

Still watching the road, the tiger lowered his head to rub his cheek on the lion's paw, producing a hint of a purr as he did so. "We're free here. In fact, if you don't mind my brothers making 'bow-chika-wow-wow' noises at us, we could probably do that all weekend."

Bobby withdrew his paw, slowly if a little self-consciously. "I'm not sure..."

"That's for later," the freshman said firmly. "I promise you it'll be fine, but I know you won't really know that until you've experienced it for yourself. Meanwhile..." Taking one forepaw from the steering wheel, Malcolm reached over and found Bobby's forepaw and held on to it, giving a little reassuring squeeze. "...enjoy the scenery."

The lion returned the squeeze to the paw, and the smile to his muzzle. "It really is beautiful up here. I don't think I've ever been this far north." He chuckled. "Now I really sound like a country hick! I promise I don't have a mouse in my pocket."

Malcolm laughed. "I've spoiled you. You've read Steinbeck! And I'm terribly sorry for you."

It was Bobby's turn to laugh. "Heretic! They'll throw you out of the English department if they heard you say that! Besides, it wasn't that bad. Kind of transparent, even to the dumb jock, but... OW!" This last was a response to a squeeze from the tiger that included a bit of very sharp claw.

"I warned you about that," Malcolm smiled. "No more 'dumb jock' references! I'll save them for my brothers... although they don't really deserve the comment, we just like picking on each other. Now... what was my astute and very clever jock about to say about Steinbeck?"

"Nuthin, George," the quarterback said, slackfaced. "Nuthin! We give a hootin' hell for each other, that's who does, yup George, that's who does."

After a long moment, the tiger said, smiling, "That was... really creepy, love, just so you know."

Bobby squeezed Malcolm's paw. "You taught me good. Perhaps even 'well'." The lion chuckled. "I'd never have known all that, if not for you."

The next few miles were quiet, each cat with his thoughts. For Bobby's part, it was about trying to really understand what all this "feelings" stuff was about, because the more he found out about it, the more he realized that he didn't really know anything about feelings, and at the same time he realized that it was okay, because the good feelings were really good, and the bad feelings were okay as long as Mal was there to help him sort them out. He wasn't dumb. He wasn't Lenny, just as Mal wasn't George. Somehow, though, being able to see the analogy - the good part of it, anyway - opened doors. New thoughts, new feelings, new ways of expressing himself... new reasons for expressing himself.

Scary. Wonderful, but scary.

"You okay?"

The lion glanced over at his lover and smiled softly. "About the same. I've seen too many comedies about meeting the parents and all. I guess I just don't want to screw it up."

"You can't." Malcolm grinned. "You read the emails from Mom, right? Trust me, you'll be fine."

"Am I coming out?"

The tiger's muzzle sorted itself into something more serious. "Is that what's worrying...?" His eyes opened a little wider. "Oh gods, Bobby, I never thought about it like... I didn't think..."

"Hey, hey, eyes on the road." The lion squeezed the paw gently. "Relax. It's not that bad, it's just a thought that's been nagging at me. I'm trying to figure out why I'm so scared. It's your family, and you've told me so much about them so far, and even though I can only hope that they're going to like me, it's scarier for me to think that so many people are going to..." He shook his head, his thick russet mane dancing. "It's not fair for me to play so safe and not be part of your life openly. But it's scary, browncoat. It's scary as hell."

"What would make it less scary?"

"I'm not sure." The lion rubbed his forehead tiredly. "When it's just us, up in my room, it's safe and simple. Who we are, what we are, why we are, all those 'W' questions, nothing we have to think about. It just ... it's real, and so are we, and that's all that matters. No judgments, no having to evade or lie, no worries about being accepted or shunned. It's safe."

"I can promise you safety here," Malcolm said firmly. "I'm there, and my mom already likes you, and my dad is very cool, and if my brothers act up, I still know how to take 'em down." He grinned. "They won't. They might tease the hell out of us, or play pranks or something, but they won't hurt you. You'll have me and four other people in this world who are happy you're who you are, and who will welcome you always." The tiger nodded as if closing the deal. "Good start on the rest of the world, eh?"

Bobby considered. "That's how you did it. You had your family with you."

"Yes."

The single soft syllable from the tiger's lips, almost inaudible over the wind and road and music, made the lion gaze upon his lover with a sense of ... respect? No, the word was pride. Younger by a few years, wiser by a dozen or more (that statement might have fetched another claw, he realized), this young tiger displayed amazing strength of will and character. And he had chosen him to love.

"They raised you well."

Malcolm blushed a little, his ears flicked with a touch of embarrassment. "So. Still scared?"

"Of coming out? Yes. Of your parents, not so much."

* * * * * * * * * *

The neighborhood was old enough to have been based upon large lots, and prosperous enough that the lots had not been cut to pieces and populated with bungalows. Malcolm pulled the car up onto a paved apron to the right of the entrances to the two garage doors, one open with an empty space. As the young tiger exited the car, he observed, "Looks like Dad's gone out for something. Well, you at least get to meet them one at a time. Does that help?"

"I'll take what I can get," the lion grinned, opening the back door to get the duffels. From the other side, Malcolm took charge of the few bags of miscellaneous items - snacks for the trip, sodas and teas and other snacks for their weekend stay. Other miscellaneous items were carefully concealed deep inside the lion's duffel; the tiger's mom wouldn't grab it to offer to wash dirty laundry from his bag, at least.

It was then that the front door opened, and a grinning tigress padded out of the house, tail waving happily, ears excitedly forward, arms outstretched toward her son. "I thought I heard a car come up, welcome home, hon." Taking advantage of the fact that the kit had a couple of canvas bags by the straps and would have difficulty raising his arms, she threw hers around him and hugged him tight. Malcolm's tail twitched, somewhere between love and embarrassment, and Lisa looked to Bobby over her kit's shoulder and winked.

Bobby, likewise burdened with two duffels, wasn't entirely sure what he should do. He'd seen oncoming linebackers twice his size that were less intimidating. Not that Mrs. Lamar was overly large or anything; she was a solidly built tigress who might well have had some muscle on her in earlier years (Malcolm had said that she served in the army, communications section - a group that they called "Electronic Basketball" because of the logo that looked like a basketball hoop with a lightning bolt through it), and had in no way gone to seed. She and her husband owned and ran a very successful game park (what's called a Family Entertainment Center in the search engines); they were clever investors, fixed most of their electronic machines, go-carts, and other machines themselves, treated their employees right, and had the luxury of not being part of any chain nor answering to other investors. This freedom made them, as Malcolm discreetly put it, "outspoken."

"And may I assume this handsome young lion is Bobby Harris?" The lion in question tried not to cringe as she approached, but she didn't try to hug him. "Make you a deal - hand over one duffel, then we'll each have a paw to shake. In fact," she jutted her chin toward the dark blue bag, "hand me Malcolm's, since he probably brought laundry home for me to do."

"Bazinga!" Malcolm laughed. "Although it's all clean for a change, Mom."

Lion and tigress made the switch and shook paws well. The female had quite a grip. "Come on inside, let's get you situated."

"Dad not here?" the young tiger asked.

"I sent him to the store." She grinned at the lion. "I thought you might like to meet us one at a time instead of ganging up on you."

Bobby was certain he was blushing hard enough that, if the sun had already set, he'd light up the yard like Rudolph in front of the sleigh. He didn't know what to say. He was unable to stop the nervous ear and tail flicks that spoke for him, and after a few moments, the tigress let him off the hook.

"I'm sorry, Bobby, I shouldn't tease so much." She smiled softly and led the way into the house. "Come on in. You're welcome here."

Malcolm followed, also smiling at Bobby and nodding. Not much for a lion to do but go into the tigers' den and see what would happen next.

* * * * * * * * * *

The house was big, but neither palatial nor pretentious. It was clearly well lived-in. The tigress apologized several times for the place being "a mess," and Bobby wasn't sure if denying it, saying that the mess was okay, or just saying nothing was the best way to potentially insult his hostess. In what might otherwise have been a small living room area, a table was strewn about with various electronic gear, wires, pliers, volt meter and the like, along what looked like some strange pinball machine with odd markings (Japanese? Chinese?) in various places.

"Dave's playtoys," the tigress offered. "He does most of the electronics work at the park. He found that old pachinko game at a yard sale, and I'm betting he gets it all to work again."

The lion wasn't the least bit sure what "pachinko" was, but he managed to say, "Sounds like quite a project."

"Don't get him started; he'll talk your ears off! Come on this way, guest room down the hall. Malcolm, your room's just as it was, so you may want to tidy it a bit before inviting Bobby to see it."

"Moommmm..."

"You gonna make me Gibbs-slap you?" the lady cat grinned. "You've been away for weeks, and I've got a lot of mothering to catch up on. Been kinda empty nest around here lately."

"TMI, Mom," Malcolm said, grinning. He stepped up to her and kissed her on the cheek. "Don't be too rough with him. I like him just the way he is." With that, he padded to Bobby, boldly kissed him squarely on the lips (backed by a brief purr), and set off for his own room, duffle in paw. The lion stood frozen to the spot, ears up, tail down, not having the faintest idea what the fur just happened. He felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, turned to see a tigress who looked as if she'd just polished off the last of the Bailey's-flavored ice cream as well as the canary. She jutted her chin toward the end of the hall, then led him the rest of the way.

The guest room of the house was spacious, and it included its own three-quarter bath. The king-size bed spoke to an acknowledgement that guests may arrive in pairs (Bobby tried not to read too much into that). The closet contained only extra bed linens, so guests actually had some space to hang clothing. Bookcases lined the walls, filled with an amazing assortment of hardbacks and paperbacks of all sizes. Figuring that the family didn't abandon guests to stay alone in the room and read, Bobby figured that this must be a sort of leftover library. It was impressive nonetheless.

"We're readers in this family," the tigress observed.

"It shows well," Bobby said, putting his duffle on the floor at the foot of the bed and trying to organize his thoughts. He turned to his hostess and nodded briefly. "Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Lamar."

"Lisa," she said, softly but firmly. "I'd like to be on a first-name basis with the young lion my kit is so in love with."

The athlete felt as if he should dig a toe in the ground and say "Gawrsh!" But he had neither the inclination, nor the time.

"Bobby," she said, leaning in the doorway. "I've thought a lot about what to say. Truth is, Malcolm has never brought anyone home to meet me before. Friends, yes, but not..." For the first time, the tigress paused. "How should I refer to you?"

"Bobby," the lion grinned. As he'd hoped, it got a good laugh from Lisa.

"Point is, I'm not here to judge. I'm not here to find out if you're good enough for my kit or any of that nonsense. He's got a good head on his shoulders, and Dave and I are vain enough to think that we raised him well enough to know the difference between a gentlefur and a player. I just want to get to know you, and we've got all weekend to do that. I know from his emails how much Malcolm loves you, and why he loves you. This may not be a fair question... can you tell me why you love him?"

"Why?" Bobby's eyebrows rose in surprise, and he turned away for a moment. The question shouldn't have surprised him, as he'd thought about it more than once already. "You didn't ask me if I loved him, just why..."

"I already know you love him." Lisa smiled gently. "You wouldn't have agreed to come up here if you didn't; you'd have been too worried about having to play up to me and Dave, and I don't think that sort of pretense would last long with Malcolm. Besides, only love could have prevented you from swatting the kit when he snatched a kiss from you right in front of me."

The lion laughed and, in spite of himself, enacted the rubbing-the-back-of-the-neck cliché before he could prevent it. "That's a first. No one else has ever seen us kiss."

"If it's any help, I thought it was very sweet."

"I'm not sure if it's a help; it might only encourage more!" He chuckled, feeling that he was about to go into turbo-blush. "But you asked me why. Why I love Malcolm." Another pause. "That's the first time I've said that to anyone else."

"This really is new to you, isn't it?" Lisa looked away for a moment, made a snorting noise that made Bobby think she'd given herself a mental Gibbs-slap. "I'll bet that came out just fine...!"

"It's okay. You're right, anyway. Mrs... excuse me, Lisa... Malcolm is the first person I've ever had the chance to really love. Not just the first male... the first of anyone." Feeling the slightest bit overwhelmed, the lion let himself sit on the edge of the bed and compose himself. "Mal said that you'd mentioned my... reputation. I guess I've got one."

"For what it's worth, I despise gossip. It's just that..."

Bobby raised a paw, shook his head. "No, it's not all true, but enough of it that I can see why it would worry you. It's funny that it didn't worry Mal all that much. You asked why I love him; that's one reason - that he forgives my sins, so to speak. That he trusts me in ways that I didn't know were really possible between two people. And I love him because he showed me other things about trust, about caring, about being able to talk about what's real... that must sound like something romantic and ridiculous, but I'm still new at this. I'm not one of those guys who knows how to talk about his feelings. But Mal's been teaching me, and I'm trying to learn."

He nodded slowly, looked the tigress in the eyes. "About four months ago, I was assigned a tutor to help me with English classes that I was actually hoping to get out of. I didn't care about literature, not then, maybe not ever. What good is it on the football field? That's all I knew about life anyway, all there was, all I needed. But they said I needed better grades, so they gave me this kid... this shy, kinda geeky tiger..." He grinned softly. "And he started to explain things about this play, Equus - I thought I had some idea about it, at least enough to pass a test and forget about it again... but he showed me so much more in it. And I understood it. That was what surprised me. I understood it. All that allegory, all that subtext... and those words that I'd never even heard before, much less used... I actually understood it."

Sighing, he shook his head, his lush russet mane dancing behind him. "Lisa, no one else explained anything to me. The professors talk to themselves or the ones they expect to be their prize students; no one expects anything of the dumb jock, and for a long time, I coasted by on that. I was happy to just coast by on that, or thought I was. Then Malcolm..." He snorted, a wry grin on his muzzle. "That browncoat won't let me get away with anything. When I tried to slough off a half-assed paper..." He looked startled briefly.

Lisa nodded. "Robert Heinlein might go for three-quarter assed." She grinned at him.

"Math aside," Bobby chuckled slightly, "he wouldn't let me get away with it. He made me think. He sat there and forced me to think. And so many people would have told you that wasn't possible, or at least wasn't likely. He woke up my mind. He made me curious. He made me hungry. He made me realize that I wasn't really me yet, and he never once stopped to wonder if I could do it. He knew. Right from the start, he knew. And he never gave up."

The lion stood slowly. "Why do I love Malcolm? Because he gave me myself. And then he trusted me enough to give me himself as well. And I'll defend those gifts with my life."

"Well now you're in trouble."

He hesitated. "Why?"

"Because now you're part of the family."

In just a few steps, Lisa padded to the young lion and hugged him tightly. He returned the hug warmly, holding fast against his newly-acquired ability to cry at things that made him happy. He felt her plant a kiss on his forehead, then they both turned as they heard the front door open and close.

"That'll be Dave. Ready for him?"

"I think so. Hang on." He separated from her and rummaged briefly in his duffle, straightening up holding a triangular tube in his paw. "Let's go."

Malcolm had already started the family reunion by giving his dad a long hug hello. They separated as Bobby and Lisa walked in. The tigress got first dibs on the tiger, giving him a quick, slightly exaggerated kiss hello. It was then that Dave turned, smiling, his paw outstretched. "And this, I take it, is our guest of honor."

"Good evening, Mr. Lamar."

"Gibbs-slap warning!" Lisa admonished.

"Dave?" Bobby smiled. "Right. Dave." He handed the tube to the elder tiger, saying, "Malcolm thought this might help with my introduction."

Glancing at the familiar-looking caramel-colored triangular tube with TOBLERONE in large red letters, Dave nodded and looked at his wife. "Yup ... he's in."

For a real-life couple, Dave and Lisa W., who truly are just this totally cool (Dave A. W., 1961-2006 ... we have Toblerone in your honor, always)