[Chapter 1: Spilled Coffee, a Failed Meeting, and World Peace.”

>It was a delightfully crisp February evening, just short of cold, as you waited at the bus stop after your shift at the shop. A coffee shop, to be precise. 
>Not the most prestigious of jobs, but hey, it got the bills paid, sort of. You had the cover the rest from you rent with income acquired by writing novella of lascivious nature for private clients.
>One cent per word didn’t seem like a lot, but after you discovered the devilishly lucrative skill of adding fluff without making it too obvious, your small business became more than just a way to make ends meet. It became profitable.
>Most of your clientele were perverse with fantastically disgusting taste in fetishes, but after the third or so commission, you stopped caring about the content of the writing. 
>Rather, your work became a drudge labor, and with every completed work you considered dropping the lascivious profession altogether.
>Until the email that trebucheted an inferno into your life dropped into your inbox.

>It was innocuously innocent, an email asking you to meet, of all places, at the coffee shop where you worked. It did raise your suspicious, but your better judgement was nowhere to be found, so you agreed.
>What’s the worst that could happen?
>The client in question was one of your more charitable cases, but with a... strange caveat. All of their commissions involved a... peculiar creature. He described her as a shark crossed with a dog, one of the floppy-eared breeds, though he never specified which.
>Shark, you jokingly dubbed her, much to his chagrin. 
>The thing was, not all of the stories were of an erotic nature, and in fact, a lot were just domestic life between the creature and a human.
>So a client that paid handsomely and they requested mostly tame literature, with some lewd material here and there? Sounded like a fantastic deal to you.
>So why did they want to meet up? At worst you get an attempted kidnapper, while at best you probably meet a big fan, so what’s the harm.
>Their email specified for you to wear a bright red shirt, and meet them at 9:00, in the back by the bookshelves.
>Unfortunately, this was in conflict with your scheduling, and you’d have to convince your boss to let you start a little later.

>When others pray to God they ask for world peace. When you pray to the Big Man, you ask for extra break time after the morning rush.
>Your boss didn’t budge, damn stubborn rhino anchors, and you were worked at 8:30, as per usual.
>Truly regrettable, because you couldn’t send out an email to tell the mystery client of the failed rendezvous.
> Typical morning goers swept through, lion business, elephants that couldn’t remember their damn orders, and a few humans, but nothing out of the ordinary for a coffee shop in the anthro district of Greensboro. 
>Or at least, not until 9:30, when the door burst open, causing you to spill a Frappuccino on a very irritated Panther.
>If you hadn’t been so preoccupied with cleaning their fur with a wet towel, you have noticed the entrant was a particularly peculiar creature, who made a beeline for the for the bookcases. 
>Awhile after the panther was cleaned up and had their *free* Frappuccino, you felt the firm grip of your boss’s hand on your shoulder.
>He explained that there was a customer that hadn’t purchased or ordered anything and was just sitting at the back of the store, “all suspicious like”.
>He wanted you to kick her out.

>With a sigh, and any guild of the blown off fan out of your mind, you pulled off your apron and went to talk to the squatter.
>” Hey,” You began, stopping next “You have to order something if you want to stay...here…” You trail off, confused by the up-close view of the loitering patron.
>She was obviously a shark, but upon closer inspection, she definitely wasn’t just a shark. Despite sharks not having either outer ears or hair, she had both, with her hair done up in a messy bun.
>An ominously pensive look crosses her face, before she nods.
>”I’ll take 1 black coffee, I’m sorry, I’m waiting for someone.”
>You curtly nod in understanding, and hurry back to the counter to get the drink prepared.

>The day continued fairly normally after that, with the funny looking shark-thing typing away on a laptop.
>Since she was the only customer that remained in the shop for more than 15 minutes, you passed the time stealing glances at her while she worked.
>You had to admit, she was kind of cute in a way. 
>The way her ears twitched with curiosity at sounds around the shop, and the way her face scrunched up when she focused.
>When break time came, you opened your phone to an inbox full of angry emails from the shark fanatic, them raving about how you ‘blew them off’, and ‘made them look like a squatter’.
>Wait…
>You flip through a few emails and open up one of the stories you sent this mystery shark fan.
>Hair...ears...looks like a dog and a shark mutt. You stare at your phone for a minute, slowly putting two and two together.
>”AHA!” You exclaim, startling the shark sitting in her corner. “I KNOW you!”
>The shark girl, bless her, looked as if she was going to have a heart attack right then and there.
>”Wh-who are you?” She squeaked, hiding behind her tail.
>”I’m Anon, from the site!” You say, extending a hand in greeting, “Nice to meet you, Sh4rkweek!”

>You expected a lot of reactions, from anger to an earnest greeting. But you didn’t expect her to bolt from her seat as if her hair were on fire.
>Before you could even react, she was out the door, her laptop, lonely and forgotten on the table, along with the cups of coffee she ordered but didn’t touch.
>You began cleaning the table, mentally kicking yourself for yelling at the obviously upset shork.
>Your inner self torture session is interrupted however, when you feel a tap on your shoulder.
>You jump back, expecting your boss to be furiously gnashing his teeth in your face, but it’s...the shark girl.
>She’s back, and given the look of indignant anger she was wearing, she was back for business.
>”You!” She puffed, “Do you know how rude that was? Shouting at me like that, what if I was drinking my coffee and had spilled it on myself?”
>You were taken aback, the previously antsy shark now chastising you in the middle of the store. 
>”And to think I was going to offer you a job!” She harrumphs, crossing her arms in a childing manner.
>You quirk an eyebrow, intrigued by the last thing she said. “A job?”
>”Yes! I was -going- to ask you to be my editor, but it looks like I’ll have to find someone else who will take the position.”
>You balk. 
>”Wh-what? We’ve barely met, you can’t just dangle that in front of someone and then take it away!” You say, ego hurt.
>”Well too bad! I’m not changing my mind.” She says, moving over to the table to collect her belongings.
>”That’s...unfortunate,” You grimace. “But now that I think about it, I don’t think I could accept anyway.”
>Like lightning, she’s in your face again. “What?! Why?!”
>”I’m not certain that I want to go full time with writing yet, sorry.” you reply with a shrug. Now it’s the shark’s turn to balk. 
>”I-I can’t believe you would turn down such an offer! Th-this is most unacceptable! I’m sorry Anon, but you will have to reconsider.” She huffs. 
>”No.” You say again, somewhat annoyed. Her face twitches, and without another word she stomped out of the coffee shop, laptop clutched close to her chest. You turn to your boss, who only gives you a sympathetic shrug and smile.
>As you watched the peculiar creature stomp away, you had the feeling that this wasn’t over.

>Sometimes, you hated being right. Like that time when you pondered if it was a good idea to have the piñata so close to the window. You spent the rest of the hour consoling the sobbing child and cleaning broken glass.
>This time, you got to deal with a stubborn shark. 
>She wasn’t a particular nuisance, but she’d show up every day, order a black coffee, then spend the day pestering you about becoming her editor. 
>You managed to last a week until she broke you.
>”Please, I’m literally, actually, begging you,” the shark girl, who had earlier introduced herself as one Mara Clyde, said as she grappled with your sleeve. 
>You give a tenuous sigh, before looking her dead in her wide blue eyes.
>”Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been annoyed into accepting a job offer, but, what the heck, I’ll give it a go.”
>At that her eyes shot open even wider, to the point that you thought she might hurt herself, and she squealed in delight.
>”OH Thankyouthankyouthankyouwon’t regret this!” 
>She was a practically vibrating, she was shaking so fast. 
>”We have so much to talk about, benefits, and vacation, and ohhhh I’m so excited!”
>For such a small shark she was incredibly strong, and she quite nearly drags you off your feet when she attempts to pull you out the store by your sleeve. 
>This was gonna be an... interesting experience. 

[Chapter 2: “How to overcome writer’s block.”]
> “No, no, no. I don’t like Xavier’s dialogue here. He sounds like a sociopath.” Mara said.
>It had only been a few weeks since your encounter in the coffee shop, but you and Mara had already begun working on her book.
>Untitled, it was some kind of action romance, with the lead being a human renegade named Xavier, who was on a quest to stop the evil Dr. Jericho from destroying the world with a wonky, sci-fi device.
>Content that, on any other occasion, would bore you to tears, you now had to read and write almost constantly.
>The work itself wasn’t exactly fun, but Mara made so, her personality adding spice to the day.
>She was stubborn as they came, you found, if that hadn’t already been evidenced by her… less than conventional recruitment of you.
>If she didn’t like it, it didn’t go.
>And there were a LOT of things that the shark girl didn’t like.
>Currently, the two of you were debating on whether or not the main character should have a bit of dialogue in a certain scene, with you saying yes, and Mara staunchly disagreeing.
>With a sigh of magnanimous proportions, Mara gets up from her desk, and exits the room, you following.
>When you first accepted the job, you expected Mara to work in an actual office, but the young shork alone, in her apartment.
>When you first got there, the place had been barren, with only the essentials.
>Secondly, there wasn’t really an office, but a spare bedroom with desks in it.
>You questioned her about it, but you only got a shrug of indifference from Mara.
>For the first week, you set to decorating the place with items from your own home, with Mara watching in rapt fascination.
>She didn’t object to the objects, rather, she encouraged the sentimental invaders from your home.
> “Put that one there”, “Oh, do you have more of those? I quite like those.”, she was actively very pleased at the decorations.
>Mara definitely took advantage of you being her editor.
>In the first week alone you had written and re-written the same scene about five or six times.
>It was grueling work, but you enjoyed it. At least more than your regular work.
>You kept up your commission work, but since it remained a hobby, you could enjoy it again, and you often times felt yourself lost in the creative process, something that hadn’t happened since you first began writing.
>Then came the late nights.
>Sometimes you stayed up with her working for hours on end, deep into the darkness of the evening, so far so that it would be less beneficial to go to sleep that it would to just stay up.
>When this occurred, Mara would indemnify your hard work by cooking dinner, something she enjoyed greatly.
>Not that she could cook that many things, mind you.
>Most nights it was either homemade pizza or pasta, or she just ordered takeout, but you appreciated the gesture and the meals.
>All in all, she was a pretty good coworker, if not a little awkward.
>She wasn’t really much for idle chit-chat, and when you talked to her she always seemed hesitant to open up.
>Sometimes you worried about her lack of social skills, but you figured that it wasn’t really your problem.
>What was your problem was getting to Mara’s apartment on time.
>It was nearly an hour’s walk from work, and an 2 hours walk from home.
>You’d take the buses, but none of the routes went to that part of town.
>It became a habit for you to trek to her apartment with an extra set of clothes and crash on her couch for the night.
>Eventually, you settled into a routine, go to work at the shop, head to her place, sleep, then head home after work in the morning.
>Rinse, repeat.
>It became enough of a routine, that you left some toiletries over at her place.
>Mara herself didn’t seem the mind the slow invasion of her home, and she often texted you when you were at worked about how lonely she was without you.
>The days themselves bled together as your routine settled.
>Days.
>Weeks.
>Eventually Months.
>It was a kind of blur to you, it sped by so quickly.
>Time really did have a habit of slipping away when you were having fun, and you had fun every day with Mara.
>Sometimes you didn’t even work, you just hung out, watching movies on the sofa, making a new dish together, all sorts of things. 
>It was an odd homely life, that you couldn’t help but admit you loved.
>You oft found yourself thinking of the little shark girl when you were at work, with her bright blue eyes, and her mop of perpetually messy hair.
>And that smile… oh that smile. 
>You worked your hardest just so you could see that smile when she read your work.
>It was rewarding in its own right.
>Mara herself had these little ticks, that amused you.
>When she read anything, she’d whisper it under her breath, with emphases and accents, as if she was reading to a group of children.
>She would sing recipes when she cooked (Add half a cup of milk~).
>Her particular way of organizing the dishwasher, with all the utensils organized by type and material. (Yes, Anon, plastic forks and metal forks are /completely/ different.)
>It all blended together, to make a soufflé of a routine. 
>Until Mara hit a patch of writers block thicker than a bowl of oatmeal.
> “UGH!” Mara groaned, spinning in her chair. “I’ve been sitting here for hours and I’ve not thought of anything! All I’ve written down is ‘THE’ in really fancy letters!”
>The chair had a squealy wheel. 
>Though to tolerated it for the most part, the fact that the little shark wouldn’t stop spinning on her chair was starting to grate on your nerves.
>You had enough, and slamming the desk a little more forcefully than needed, you stood up.
“How about we go for a walk?”

>The air was tepid, not unlike the air above a hot stove, but you didn’t mind.
>And since Mara hadn’t said a word since you left the apartment, she didn’t either.
>The two of you were walking to nowhere in particular, under sky stained mango by the coming twilight.
>Neither of you had said anything, but the atmosphere was relaxed, as if neither of you had needed to say anything. 
>Mara was thinking about something, you could tell.
>When she was focused on thinking, her face scrunches up in the cutest way.
>She seemed on guard, cautiously eyed passerby, and couples walking around you.
>You decided to break the silence.
“You know, I heard the biggest cause of writer’s block is trying to write when you’re thinking about something else.” You say.
> “That’s bull-owny,” Mara shoots back, glaring up at you. “I don’t think about anything other than writing.”
“Then why can’t you write?” You ask.
> “B-because I have writer’s… block…” she tails off, staring at a human-anthro couple across the street walking hand-in-hand.
>Mara falls silent, and remains so for a while.
>When you tried looking down at her, she turned her head, but if you angled your head just so, you could see her eyeing your hand when she thought you weren’t looking.
>’Let her make the move, let her feel comfortable.” You think.
>Eventually, timidly and delicately like a baby deer, you feel her hand touching yours, before pulling away.
>You aren’t left wondering what happened, before her hand lashes out, grabbing yours and holding it as if letting go would send her plummeting into the void.
>You do let it show on your face, but you heart tries to escape your prison of a ribcage and you’re deafened by the blood in your ears.
>You wonder if Mara can hear it.
>You look at the shork girl, and her face is bright red, contrasting her deep blue eyes.
“Is this what you were thinking about?”
>Mara doesn’t say anything aloud, but she was very much pleased, given the vigorous nodding of her head. 
>No one says anything for the rest of the trip, but when you get home, Mara began writing with a zest you hadn’t seen from her before. 
>She broke her pen three times. 

[Chapter 3: How to fold a couch.]

>You and Mara continued going on walks, often to the point that you went at least once every day.
>You had started to joke that Mara was your dog and you needed to walk her to get all that excess energy out, much to her adorably amusing annoyance.
>You questioned whether it was necessary that she held your hand every time, but she argued that you were ‘distracting from her creative process.’ 
>Whatever that meant.
>Sometimes she chattered like a little bird, and other times she was silently observant, watching the other folk on the sidewalk.
>Either way, they were all enjoyable, and you had little problem going on continued walks with the girl.
>Besides, it was exercise, and she needed it.
>Not that she was fat, you assured her after a verbal faux pas. 
>It had been a few months since you had began working now, and Mara had developed a new habit.
>Asking you to move in.
>It began a while ago, after you had been late to your meeting with her
>Hey, it wasn’t your fault that the buses didn’t go that far out.
>Still, she was rather insistent.
> “So,” The pint-sized shark said, putting her hands on her hips. “those are all fifteen of the reasons that you should move in.” 
>You sigh, stretching your back after an hour long power point presentation. 
“I’m still not buying it. We barely know each other.”
>She gives you a raised eye brow.
> “You’ve practically live here now.” she says flatly.
“What are you on about, I don’t…”
>She points to your decorations on the wall.
“That’s just…”
>She points to you linens on the couch.
“Cmon, sometimes I stay late…”
>She walks into the bathroom, and retrieves your tooth brush and tooth paste.
>Yea…she was kinda right.
“Well, its not my fault this place is so far from where I live.”
>In that you were true, Mara’s home was impossibly far.
>In fact, you had started bringing over extra clothes, and leaving them there, so you could shower and get ready for work at the shop there instead of at home, which would have been a 3 hour commute.
> “Hmph! I’ve talked to my publisher, and they’re willing to give you a minor contract as my live-in editor, so you better take this deal.”
>You consider the offer.
“No.”
>Honestly, you saw the benefit of moving in with her, but you just simply enjoyed saying no, due to the endlessly adorable way her face scrunched when she was denied what she wanted.
>The only reason you didn’t say no was that you still had a few weeks left on the lease.
> “Fine, then you’re fired!”

>It was a week later when she called.
>You knew she was rash, and more stubborn than the jack-assiest of donkey anthros, but you hadn’t expected her to flat out kick you to the curb.
>You knew she had an iron will, but you hadn’t thought she would last a week without you.
>And if you were honest, you didn’t think you could last a week without her.
>You had been working on chapter 12 (of 34) of Mara’s book when the phone rang.
>The the lease agreement lay beside you, checked off and ready to be canceled.
>At first she was barely understandable, between the sniffling and the sobbing.
>What she did manage to convey, was that she missed you.
>You packed your bag with your work, and headed out the door, remembering to slip the lease notice in your landlord’s inbox on your way out.
>You kept on the phone with her the entire ride over, much to the annoyance of the taxi driver.
>When you got there, she flung herself at you, her hair disheveled and her eyes baggy.
>It took you an hour of telling her that no; you didn’t hate her, yes; you were going to come back, and yes; you were going to move in with her to get the poor girl to stop crying.
>It took another hour of cuddling on her couch watching her favorite tv show to get her back in a good mood.
>The moving process itself was rather simple; you had already moved all your stuff over during the first few weeks, bit by tedious bit.
>The only thing left was the couch, and that’s where you were now.
“Honestly? I’m tired of trying to get it down these stairs. How in the ever-loving name of Christ did I get it up here in the first place?”
>You had and Mara had spent the last few hours doing the sisyphusian task of moving a just-slightly-too-cumbersome couch down the narrow stairs of your apartment building. 
>You look out the window, staring at the street below.
>Then lightning strikes, and you get an idea.
“...Mara?” You ask, eyebrows raised in misplaced giddy. “Could you run downstairs and clear the street? I have an idea.”
>Off came the cushions, out the window they went.
>You watch from above as Mara organized them into a pile below the window, the clever girl already figured out what you were gonna do.
>With some effort you shove the couch out of the wide window, where it plummeted down towards the street.
>Luckily, it hit the cushions.
>Unluckily, that didn’t matter, and the couch collapsed, flattened like an accordion.
>Mara was too busy laughing to help you toss the broken thing into the dumpster.

[Chapter 4: Fake It Till You Make It]
 
>A book store.
>That was where you and Mara decided to go when you went on one of your now dubbed “refocusers”.
>It was a quaint little thing, a hole in the wall, but filled with the smell of coffee and parchment.
> You’d never come here, but it was strangely familiar, homely…warm.
>If you lived closer to this place, you’d swear that you had visited before.
>It was filled wall to wall with shelves stuff with books, a sight you quite enjoyed.
>Perhaps a little too much, as you have to stop yourself from trying grab every book from its shelf and purchasing it right then and there.
>Mara herself was no better. 
>You had to stop every 10 seconds to pry her away from a book as you moved towards the back of the store, where 2 comfy looking chairs sat.
>Finally, you both managed to sit down, allowing yourselves a rest from the walking.
>It was quiet in the store, and the two of you sat awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
>Or at least that’s what the nervous look on Mara’s face was telling you.
>Thankfully, one of the owners slipped past, placing two books on the coffee table in front of you. 
>Two copies of one book, it was a romance novel. 
>The cover art was a otter girl dressed in a wedding gown.
>The title: Treading Patience.
>Cute.
>The story was about a young otter girl hitting on her tutor, eventually getting him to wed her.
>Romance wasn’t your cuppa tea, but you appreciated the effort that went into the story.
>Well written, a very likeable female lead, a believable male lead, with hyper realistic dialogue.
>All in all, a good story. 
> “So…Anon.” She started, smiling nervously. “I’ve always wanted to know how you got started in this…business.”
“Uh, not certain, really.” You say, tilting your head towards her interest. “I got started writing itself because of a friend, but…”
> “Oh! I was wondering how you…ya know, got so good at lewd scenes.”
>That answer…was something you didn’t particularly want to share, one that was quite emberassing for you.
>Your best option was to lie.
“Oh, y-ya know…I read a lot, just practiced a lot, you know how it is.”
>Mara doesn’t look amused. 
>She didn’t buy it, and you both knew that was total bullshit you just said.
> “Spill it.”
“No.”
>Her face morphed into a puppydog visage, wide eyes and whimpering face.
> “Pleasepleasepleaseplease!”
>You roll your eyes, but decide to let her in on it.
“Fine, but only if you don’t say anything, okay?”
>If she could nod any harder her head would have gone flying.
“…erp.” You nearly whisper.
>Instead of laughing or cringing, Mara looks at you with wide eyes.
> “Really? That…makes sense, actually. WAIT! Can I see your logs?!” She asked excitedly.
“N-no way in hell.” You respond, crossing your arms and sticking your nose up.
> “Buy whyyy? I wanna know how you got your start!”
“Because I don’t want to die of embarrassment.”
> “But..! But..! …Okay.”
>Thank God she seemed inclined to drop the subject.
>Suddenly, she realized she was quite literally leaning over the arm of her chair into your lap, coming dangerously close to falling.
>She reared back, flashing you that nervous smile you loved to see.
> “W-well, I’m not gonna just let you embarrass yourself out here! You know how I got my start?”
>You could fathom a guess, but you didn’t need to because Mara already told you.
> “Fanfiction. Lots and lots of fanfiction.”
“I could have guessed.”
>Mara blinks.
> “What do you mean by that?”
>You give her a sly smile.
“…Nothin.”
>This time she actually climbed the seats, crossing the distance between you two and nearly sitting on your lap.
>Grabbing your lapels she shook…or well, attempted to shake you given her size, accenting each word she spoke with a shake.
> “You. Can’t. Just. Say. That. And. Not. Explain!”
> “Hey!” Came a shout from the front of the store, female and older. “We know you’re lovers but none of that in here.”
>Mara’s eyes went wide, and she leapt off you as if you suddenly had broken out in bubonic plague.
 > “Mrs. Rodger! No! We’re just friends! R-right, Anon?”
>There was something there, you thought, for a second, some hint that she wanted you to say no.
>Nah, that was your imagination working.
>No way she actually thought of you like that, right?
“Yeah, we’re just buds.” You say smiling, but somewhere deep inside the words feel hollow.
>There’s a slight tightness in your chest, as if Mara had been squeezing your heart.
>But then its gone.
>Did you imagine the whole thing?
>You look at Mara, who’s too busy arguing with the laughing Mrs. Rodgers to pay attention to you.
>You hoped you didn’t show anything outwardly.
>You mentally chastise yourself.
>You shouldn’t think of a co-worker like that.
>All sorts of workplaces codes being broken.
>Or at least, unspoken social codes. 
>Either way, you knew this would not be the end of that feeling.
>With your books purchased (Mara loved the otter story and insisted on buying it, along with a few others), you found yourself carrying the heavy load of tomes and novella while Mara buried her nose in the book.
>At least three times you had to yank her out of the way of a passerby, giving them an apologetic look as you passed by.
>Mara was usually in her own world, but this was different, odd.
>You usually liked to see her reading, but there was a suspiciously frantic manner with which she was reading. 
>Something about the way she was flipping the pages rather than turning them…
>She was definitely distracting herself from something.
>Something she didn’t wanna think about.
>And God be dammed if you were gonna make her think about something she didn’t want to.

[Chapter 5: Trial Run.]

> “Uh…Anon? I have a small problem.”
>That can’t be good.
>It could never be good.
“What is it, Mara?” You ask, face betraying your worry.
> “N-nothing bad, just, uh, a teeny problem.”
“And what would that be?” You say, blinking in confusion.
> “My parents are coming over.”
>You let out a chuckle.
“That’s not really a problem, Mara. Honestly, sometimes you worry too much.”
>Stomping her foot cutely, she huffed “That’s not it!”
“Then what is?”
>Her demeanor shifted, growing from frustrated to embarrassed like lightning.
> “I u-uh, I mean, it was an accident, I’m SO sorry!”
>As cute as the outburst was, it didn’t actually answer your question.
“What did you do?” You ask, in a tone reminiscent of a parent questioning their child.
> “I uh…I toldmyparentsyouweremyboyfriend.”
>What.
“What?”
> “I-I didn’t mean to! They were talking about my sister and how she has a really nice boyfriend and I just…”
“Got jealous?”
> “Well, yea. They were just doting on her so much, and it was getting under my skin and it just kinda fell out.”
>You didn’t really know how to handle this situation.
>You were just a barista turned editor, and definitely not boyfriend material.
>In fact you had only been on one date in the past, and that was senior year of high school.
>Big oof on that one, but what could you say, you weren’t a lady’s man.
“So uh…what now?”
> “I know its really REALLY cliché, but could you just…pretend to be my boyfriend for the weekend?”
“I’m down, but uh…I don’t know what that entails.”
>Mara perked up, curiously happy about your answer. “Um… you know, holding hands, pet names, lovey-dovey stuff…kissing” She said, whispering the last part.
> “O-only because that’s what couples do, ya know? It’d be weird if we didn’t do that…ya know?”
“Yeah, I know.” You said, grinning. 
> “Hey! I caught that!” She protested, hitting your shoulder lightly.
“Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help it. So when do they come?”
>Mara opened her mouth to say something, but a knocking sounded from the door.
>Really.
“Really?”
> “They sprung it on me! I didn’t know!” She threw up her hands innocently.
>The knocking came again, louder this time.
>Mara seemed frozen, her eyes darting from you to the door.
>Hiding behind you, Mara motioned you to open it with a hand.
>You rolled your eyes and walked forward, swallowing your nerves.
>Lights, Camera, Action!
>Best smile!
>The door swung open, revealing an…odd but somewhat expected couple.
>A tall shark lady, dressed in some intensely form fitting jeans and a red shirt.
>And a smaller dog man, in a somewhat nerdy looking vest and button up shirt combo.
>He even had on a checkered blue bow tie.
>The shark woman looked surprised, but she initiated contact, extending her hand.
> “Why hello there! I’m Kelly Clyde and this is my husband Maxwell!”
>You took her hand, giving your best ‘job interview’ handshake.
“Good to meet you, I’m Anon.”
>You even made eye contact, even though she was a head taller than you.
> “Oh? Not intimidated by me?” She tittered. “Most people looking to court my girls are scared away once they see me. But not you…”
“Weeell, I have to be around Mara all the time and she’s scary enough!” You say, smiling.
 > “Hey!” 
>You feel yourself shoved forward slightly.
>Kelly Clyde takes the joke in stride and lets out a loud, barking laugh.
> “You are a funny one, no wonder Mara fell for you. I will say, for a human, you’re quite the looker.”
>You blink, not really sure how to handle that.
>On the one hand she was simply giving you a compliment, but on the other…
>You’d rather not finish that thought. 
>Reaching down, you extend your hand to the father, who grabbed it firmly, and in a fascinatingly aggressive manner, he attempted to crush it.
>You didn’t feel it, but you were sure he was trying from the expression on his face.
>His wife looked concerned, before rolling her eyes. 
> “Maxie, stop fooling around.”
>With a sigh he let go, but kept the glare.
>With that, you led them into the living room, where they took a seat on the couch together.
>Mara perked up, leaping out from behind you address her parents.
>For a moment, she just stood there awkwardly, looking at them.
> “…Tea?” Was all she could offer, somewhat apologetically.
>Her mother nodded calmly. “Yes dear, that would be lovely.”
>In less than a second Mara was gone, the swinging door to the kitchen flapping in her wake.
>There was a sound of pots and cups clattering, but you decided to sit down and make small talk with the parents.
“So…what brings you here today of all days?” You ask, a neutral question, no implications.
>So far so good.
> “Well, we were in town, and we knew Mara had been talking you up lately, so we decided to drop by and see if you lived up to the hype ourselves. So far you have!”
>You quirk an eyebrow at that.
“But…I haven’t done anything.”
> “And that’s the great part! Most people would be tripping over themselves to impress us, if anything Sam’s dating life has taught us.”
>But why?
>She gave her husband a nudge, who nodded in agreement.
> “What do you think of him, Maxie?” 
>He shrugged, not much of a talker, you guessed.
>Uh…better than nothing you guessed.
“I mean, I’m nothing special.
> “Nonsense! If our little girl has thought this highly of you, you must mean something special to her.”
>Just then, the door swung open and Mara strolled through, holding a platter with tea.
>Carefully, she crossed the room, setting it down on the glass coffee table in between the couches and the lounge chairs.
> “Green tea with ginseng and honey.” She announced, grabbing the teapot and pouring the tea evenly.
> “Thank you dear.” Her mother said, taking a cup. “Mm! Its fantastic, just like always!”
>Mara flashed a brilliant smile, before sitting down.
>On your lap.
>Your eyes probably popped out of your head like a cartoon character when you felt her butt squarely on your crotch.
>Within seconds there was a stirring reaction from your lower half, and you nearly throw Mara off you in panic.
>Tax Exemption!
>Interpretive Jazz!
>That really ugly guy you saw on the bus the other day!
>Anything, God! Help!
>God was indeed looking out for you, as Mara shifted, so little anon wouldn’t be pinned under her.
>You breathed a sigh of relief as you were no longer seconds from trying to fuck Mara through her clothes.
>You mean, you liked Mara, and thought she was hot, but would that not be the most awkward thing to explain?
>Her mother once again initiated the conversation. “So! How did you two find each other?”
>Oh boy. 
>This was a question you really didn’t think wou-
> “He’s my editor for my book, and we just kinda…got together from there.”
>That works.
> “Oooh!” Kelly nodded. “Workplace romance, I like it!”
> “Reminds me of how Maxie and I met. He was working on some nerdy project in college when we literally pumped into each other.” She chuckled.
>Maxwell, the ever stoic, gave a slight smile.
>Suddenly, a predatorily sly grin appeared on Kelly’s face, one you saw on Mara often.
>A look that meant she had you pinned.
>It was something that didn’t manage to not make you shiver slightly.
> “So…have you two banged yet?”