Final Space: Requests of a Ventrexian
Might or might not continue this . . .
“Imagine what it must've been like, growing up with heteronormativity."
The Ventrexian raised an eyebrow. “I'm not really well brushed up on that ancient human history."
“Oh man, it was awful," Gary assured him. “Like, I couldn't do this in public," he leaned in, with his face very close to his cheek. “Can I?"
The catlike alien nodded.
He kissed him chastely near the side of his mouth, and said, “Like, even if you weren't in a gay relationship!! If you were just bros, like us. It wasn't allowed! That's so ridiculous. Hm . . . My neighbor's cat liked this," he touched the feline-adjacent under the chin.
“Well I hate to feed your unwarranted assumptions," said the 'grumpy cat' Gary's mind supplied- more ancient human history.
He even had a similar white face marking.
“But yes," the alien allowed. “I like that."
He moved the fingers up and down, and the strong bounty hunter seized his hand. “That wasn't a go ahead, friend," he growled.
“Oh, sorry. Should've asked first."
“Yes. You should have."
The human shrank away from his gruff reprimand.
“Can you uh . . . let me go? You're hurting me a little, man."
“Oh. Sorry." He released.
“So . . . uh," the blonde man scratched his own head, “No petting of any kind? Not gonna lie, I've been wanting to."
The catlike alien rolled his eyes. “You can pet me on the arm if you like. Not the head."
“Score!"
“And that general rule about following the direction of the fur? I don't care about that."
He put his whole hand flat into the upper part of his arm, making the fur go between his fingers to tickle the base of his digits where they met the palm.
“Uh . . ." the catlike man raised an eyebrow. “Didn't expect that."
“What?"
“Normally people just use the tips of their fingers."
“Pfffft, that's not as nice on my end. Whole hand contact is the way to go."
“Mmmm."
“That ok?"
“Yeah sure."
“Also, I was thinking," the human rubbed his own chin, with the sensation of fur still ghosting its way across his hand, “Can I call you something other than Avocado?"
“Like a pet name?" the pet-like alien showed his canine teeth. “You know how condescending that is? Especially platonically."
“No, no! Just the opposite!" he made a placating motion with his hands. “Do you know what 'Avocado' means in human language?"
“No."
“Wow, no one ever told you? Nobody's like . . . ever snickered at your name?" the shorter man asked the temperamental one cautiously.
“What are you talking about?"
“Must've been too intimidated by you," he laughed nervously.
“Get to the point," he said impatiently.
“Avacado is a human food," Gary said.
“Oh? So it is like I am prey," the predator being said contemplatively.
“No, not meat. It's a- um . . . actually I'm not sure what it is exactly? But it's something with a seed."
“A plant?"
“Part of one, yeah."
“So your purpose of re-naming, is so you do not think of a plant while addressing me?"
He punched his shoulder lightly. “You got it! Dude, you're so epic, I want you to have an epic name to match!"
The catlike one pridefully grinned.
“Well then . . ." he looked at his own paws for a moment. “You could just shorten it in some fashion. I am not answering to anything like Nightfall," the alien said seriously, showing disdain for the codename given to future Quinn.
“Awww maaaan," Garry stomped a foot. “C'mon!"
The bounty hunter crossed his arms, in a silent communication that brooked no argument.
“Fine! Avo is out, that's Portuguese for Grandpa. Opposite of cool," the man said. “And your son is already Cado. That would get old fast. So er . . . Voca? Nah, that sounds like some devilish vixen," the human narrowed his eyes and purred, imagining something. “Voc? Sounds like a German man saying 'Woke.' That might work. Lots of unfortunate human history behind both Woke and Germany, and yet, fits your gritty past perfectly. Yup, that's what I'm going with."
“All right. May I pet you?" the catlike man asked.
“Dude no, that would turn me on."