Fuzzy by Josephine Myles

Fuzzy
    First Impressions #2

    Copyright 2011 by Josephine Myles

    License Notes

    Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Please feel free to copy and share it with friends. It is part of the First Impressions series of short stories, but can be read as a standalone.

    *****

    For Lou Harper, who kept asking me when there'd be more Jez and Steve.

    Fuzzy

    I let myself into the flat to be greeted by the strains of Guns N' Roses' "Sweet Child of Mine", and Steve's voice accompanying with rather more enthusiasm than accuracy. God, so this was how he'd been spending his days while I was hard at work, was it? Listening to cock rock and watching dross on the telly, no doubt.
    I smiled as I dumped the groceries down on the kitchen table, and pulled out a bottle of Grolsch to take through to him. Yeah, Steve may have turned my world upside down and polluted my—sorry, our—flat with his godawful taste in music, but I wouldn't want it any other way. Five months into our relationship, and already I was finding it hard to remember life without him.
    Okay, I've probably made him sound like a right lazy bastard already, but the reason Steve's been off work was he broke his leg trying to rescue our upstairs neighbour's kitten from the roof. Stupid creature didn't need rescuing really—cats can always get down somehow, can't they? Still, Steve—being the ever helpful kind of guy that he is—volunteered to go and get the little blighter down. Unfortunately, Mrs Amin's stepladder was a bloody death trap, and on the way back down the kitten leapt, Steve slipped, went arse over tit, and ended up snapping his fibula.
    Before you ask, yes, Smudge was absolutely fine. Wouldn't have happened if I'd been there, though, I can tell you. I would have gone up myself rather than let him take the risk. Still, no point going over it when it was done now, as Steve kept telling me. Just meant I had to put up with a boyfriend who was frustrated with his lack of mobility, desperately wanted to get back to the office, and needed plenty of looking after. I could certainly help with the last bit.
    Of course, if there's one really good thing about having an immobile lover, it's that they can't wriggle away from you very easily, so you get your own way more often than not. It had certainly balanced things out between us in the bedroom (and on the sofa—the kitchen table and shower being temporarily off-limits until Steve's cast came off).
    I was still in this warm and fuzzy state of mind when I threw open the living room door and saw him pushing something under the sofa cushions. He looked up with a nervous smile.
    "Jez! You're home early. I wasn't expecting you for a while yet."
    "So I see." I walked over to the stereo to turn off Axl Rose's caterwauling. What could Steve be hiding from me? It wasn't more of that biker porn he was into, was it? I've never particularly seen the appeal of big men in leather, which is probably why I'm with a slim, clean-cut guy like Steve. Mind you, he assures me that I'm exactly his type, even without the leather jacket and bike, not to mention the absence of any handlebar moustache and bondage gear. He says he'd buy hippy porn if there was any out there, but gay models with dreadlocks were virtually non-existent. I seem to remember telling him I wasn't a bloody hippy, but seeing as how I'm a Nordic-looking artist with long dreads, I always end up losing that argument.
    I moved round the footstool Steve had his cast resting on, and sat down next to him. Even in his ratty old T-shirt and jogging bottoms, he still looked edible. I handed him his beer before moving in for a kiss.
    Something sharp poked me in the stomach.
    "Ow! What the fuck? What is that?"
    "Shit! Er, nothing important. Could you close your eyes for a minute, Jez. Please?"
    "No. When a man's furniture starts attacking him, something has to be done." I grabbed the cushion and chucked it on the floor. Underneath was something my brain had problems making sense