Epilogues: Ringer - Chapter 7

“Sorry for the misunderstanding, Mrs. Rabbinson.” You finish, trying not to blink as her penlight hovers directly in front of your eye.

“Damned silly thing to do in front of everyone.” She mutters, peering closely at your face. “Still, no harm done, I suppose. At worst, looks like a mild concussion. Get some ibuprofen and rest. You work tonight?”

“No, ma'am. Back on shift night after tomorrow.” You answer, thankful for the time off to sort through the tangled mess your life has become.

“Good. Now, if you have any fainting spells, increased headaches, hallucinations, photophobia, vomiting, blurred vision or anything else along those lines, you call an ambulance, then me. I'll meet you at the hospital.” She instructs you in full doctor mode.

“Thanks, Doc.” You say gratefully, feeling Beanie's arm wrapped around your back, paw squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. Carrol notes the gesture, smiling a bit at her daughter's affection towards you.

“I do see it, you know. He reminds me a lot of your father when he was younger.” She adds with a smile.

“Dashingly handsome?” You ask, puffing your chest out a bit to show off for both does.

“Charmingly dumb.” They reply in unison, clearly an in joke for the two of them that deflates you instantly.

“Speaking of, where *is* dad?” Beanie asks.

“Headed to the bus station to pick up your grandmother.”

“Granny Kate?” Beanie asks hopefully.

“No, your Nan.”

“Oh.” She says, and you can feel her wilt against your body. Your own face instantly mirrors her trepidation, which Carrol picks up on immediately.

“She's… a bit old-fashioned.” The pale rabbit says awkwardly.

“More like casually specist.” Beanie mutters bitterly.

“I wouldn't go that far.” Her mother replies, trying to be diplomatic about it.

“She called you a 'rabbit floozy’ who ‘despoiled’ her son at Thanksgiving dinner.” Your girlfriend clarifies dryly, air quotes angrier than you've ever seen. “Last month.”

Carrol can only blush through her fur at that revelation before slightly changing the subject.

“She was supposed to fly in last night, but the damn blizzard turned the whole affair into that old movie, you know, Airlines, Railroads and Cars? But without the polka band, as far as I know. He was back and forth all night texting and calling, trying to make arrangements and reservations. Turned into quite the quest on him, it seems. He'll be by once she's settled.”

“I'd tell him to bring her by just so Mike and I can make out in front of her, but I doubt she'd care.”

“Okay, I'm really freezing now, so I'm going to head inside.” She deflects, turning about and then stopping. Looking back over her shoulder, she addresses her daughter this time. “Bonita, do try to give her a chance, please? I've been dealing with worse for longer from her, and your father loves her dearly. For him?” She asks with a fragile smile.

“Fine.” Beanie replies tersely, and you're now fully acquainted with the tone and timbre of her version of the word that indicates she's anything but.

Carrol trots off, trying to keep her cross trainers out of the deep snow, but still get back indoors as quickly as possible. Watching her go, you slip an arm around Beanie, giving her a gentle squeeze. “What was *that* about?” You ask.

“My Nan isn't a fan of the whole interspecies marriage thing. She tolerates me and my brother I guess, even though I'm pretty sure she wishes we’d taken after Dad.” She grouses quietly.

“Sounds like a charmer.” you reply facetiously.

“Well, Mike. Not to break up such a tender moment, but I do believe you promised me food?” You hear from behind you. You'd almost forgotten Bonnie was there for a moment.

“Sorry. Let’s go then.” You answer, offering Beanie your left arm, which she takes only after giving you a skeptical look, clearly unaccustomed to such chivalry. Before you can take your first step, however, you feel a paw clap down onto your shoulder like a vise, a whisker tickling your right ear as you hear a low, cold voice.

“I'm sure you can see that I care about Bonita quite a bit, right?”

“Yessir?” You reply, already on edge.

“Suffice to say, I know several spots in this town it took the Department two years *or more* to find a dead body. Do we understand each other?”

“Yessir.” you answer, trying unsuccessfully to keep a quaver out of your voice.

“Bonnie.” Bonita pipes up next to you, clearly embarrassed by the attention.

“Just making sure we see eye to eye, Beanie.” He replies, releasing you.

“I'm a grown doe, ya know.”

“You'll always be…”

“Your little fluff ball, I know.” She finishes for him, her snark coming back to the fore. “Oh, let Amber know she's invited over for the party. My brother can't run nearly as fast as he used to, should be fun to watch.”

“I'll pass that on.” He says with a chuckle. “But for now, I hear a buffet table calling my name.” He adds enthusiastically.

In response, you cup your free hand to your ear “I hear it too!”

“Men.” Beanie grumbles next to you.

“Aww, cheer up lil’ fluff. It's not like I have a lifetime of cute Beanie stories to share with Mike, right?” Bonnie asks, causing the slender doe beside you to freeze in place.

“You wouldn't.” She says, dread in her voice as her active imagination thinks of several possible ways that line of conversation can go.

“I might. Unless I'm eating. Never talk with my mouth full, momma taught me better’n that.” Bonnie remarks warmly, clearly a black belt in verbal judo.

With that said, the three of you walk over to the front door of 93A, and it opens just as you reach for the doorknob, revealing an electric blue bunny in her finest green leotard, complete with christmas-themed legwarmers and a loose red windbreaker. Your heart sinks immediately as you see her nervous, perhaps brave, smile, which belies the obvious streaks on her cheeks. Before you can say a word, she steps forwards to hug you and Bonita both, sniffling loudly as she squeezes the life out of you.

“I'm so happy for you guys.” She says, unsteady voice muffled by your shoulder, and you wrap your right arm around her shoulder only to find Beanie's beaten you to the punch.

“Bon.” You say simply before choking up a little. “Bonbon, it's not like that.” You try to reassure her. Having the topic forced this early has you reeling for the words to properly explain yourselves.

“I mean, it's cool! My two best friends in the whole world! Just promise me you won't forget about me?” She asks, bordering on frantic at this point.

“But we're not…” you try to interject before being conversationally trampled by the hyperactive bunny.

“We can still watch cart… my shows together, right? And play S&S? And…”

“Bonnie.” your doe tries to interject.

“...if you guys wanted to, ya know, spice things up, I guess maybe I'd be down for OW!” she barks into your ear before backing away a step. “That was my tail!”

“And if you ever suggest something that stupid again, I'll rip it out by the root and come back for your ears.” Beanie hisses venomously. You're at once thrilled and shocked by your nascent girlfriend's jealousy on full display here, and resolve to try and calm things down.

“Girls, easy. Bonbon was just joking right?” you ask, hoping she takes a good swing at the softball you've tossed her.

“Uh, yeah.” The electric blue bunny says, blushing profusely. “Didn't mean it. Got you good, huh?” She adds, trying to put a smile on her face and mostly succeeding.

“And you wouldn't really hurt your best friend, right, my love?” You ask, reminding her exactly where *your* loyalties lie with a gentle smooch on the cheek.

“Not unless she was serious about that crap.” She grumbles, her whiskers tilted askance in annoyance. Looking to calm her further, you squeeze her shoulder, hugging her to you.

“Good. Now let's have us a hug, and then I need to break the news to everyone.” You suggest, pulling Bonbon back into the circle of affection, which Beanie begrudgingly joins, and you breathe a sigh of relief. “Let's get some food, okay? Bonnie's starving, apparently.” You add, remembering your guest for the festivities.

“No I'm not. I'm on a paleo purge right now.” The fitness freak pipes up.

“Not you, him.” You correct her, hooking a thumb over your shoulder.

“No rush. I'm off the clock.” He reassures you as the three of you disengage and move into the living room of 93A. You're greeted by your friends with a raucous cheer from nearly everyone, the lone exceptions being Mango and Foxglove who are staring daggers at each other in front of the tree, with Chichi apparently trying to play peacemaker and largely failing.

Dismissing that for the moment, you try to find the best possible location before addressing the room. “Can I have everyone's attention, please?” You ask loudly, as if you didn't have it already. Getting a mostly quiet audience now, you continue. “Thank you all so very much for coming, and for all the time and effort put into worrying about me. I can't begin to tell you how much that meant to me. I'm sorry about keeping everyone up all night, and I'll make it up to you somehow.” You begin, getting a generally positive reaction from the room before continuing. “This is my friend Bonnie, everyone. Beanie and Bonworth’s friend as well, I'm told. He brought me home a little while ago. Please make him feel welcome?” You ask.

“Oh thank God! I thought he was coming to break up the party before it started!” Cheeky declares, getting quite a few laughs. “But enough of that, when's the date?” She demands.

“For?” You ask, mind fumbling for an answer.

“You can't expect me to organize a bachelorette party on short notice, Mike.” She snarks, wings planted sassily on her wide hips. Before you can correct her, the shortstack vixen in the most beautifully tacky Christmas sweater you've ever seen cuts in.

“Now, Cheeky, I'm glad you're volunteering for that. Just make sure to coordinate with me so I can get someone for Mike's party lined up, and…”

“Like you'd know anything about what a man would like.” Mangle cuts in bitterly.

“A real man appreciates curves and some meat, you overblown stick figure.”

“And *you* aren't paying attention to what are *obviously* his tastes.”

“Now, ladies…” Chichi attempts to intercede.

“And just who said you were planning this wedding in the first place?”

“Mango…” you try to interrupt.

“Please! You can't even plan an outfit!”

“Em.” You interject, more forcefully this time.

“Who in the hell wears a kimono to a Christmas party?!?” The curvy fox scoffs.

“Someone with a single iota of fashion sense, you corpulent…”

“We're not getting married!” You and Beanie both shout, cowing everyone present to near silence. So much so that you feel the need to ramp down the tension, as well as making sure no one mistakes your vehemence for refusal. “Yet.” You add, surprised to find the word echoed by your doefriend. You look at each other, a little shocked on your part, but a nervous smile appearing on your face to mirror hers. You take her hand, drawing her close to you and throwing your arm across her shoulder. “We're dating now, nothing more, nothing less. And we're both happy with that.” You add, hoping you're not overstepping your bounds by speaking for her. She gives you a smile, half happy and half embarrassed at being put on the spot.

“And here I was thinking I'd gone blind.” Fred barks out, breaking tension you didn't even realize was there. Everyone gets a good laugh at the joke, the two of you included.

“All right, enough of that. Let's eat!” Cheeky pronounces eagerly, clearly wanting to have everyone near-comatose before the gift exchange. A general murmur of approval follows and a line forms for the large spread of doubtlessly delicious food on the dining room table. The atmosphere is quite festive, and Mango’s creative flair can be seen in many of the handcrafted decorations.

“Mike, I'm gonna go to my room for a minute. Had these clothes on since yesterday morning. Maybe I'll grab a shower.” Beanie says softly beside you.

“Need some help with that?” You reply with a saucy grin.

“No.” She answers flatly. “Perv.” She adds on with her typical deadpan humor. “Not with everyone here, Mike.” She continues, voice closer to what you now recognize as her earnest, truthful tone.

“Okay.” You reply, mollified for now. “Just don't take too long. Not fair leaving me out here alone to answer everyone's questions.” You remind her, and you see her shoulders slump as your remark hits home

“This is all still really overwhelming, okay? Let me decompress a little and I'll be back before you know it.” She asks.

“Okay.” You respond, meeting her halfway. “But only if I get a kiss before you leave.” you add.

She briefly gives you an annoyed look, but then appears to realize it's something she would have done anyway, and leans in to plant her silky muzzle on your left cheek for a long moment, and you thrill at the intimate contact. Still, you manage to give her a look of dejected disappointment when she leans back, which earns you an annoyedly raised eyebrow for a moment. Rethinking her course of action, her expression softens before she kisses you properly, a soft hum escaping your chest as your heart skips a beat at the gently affectionate smooch.

“Back in a bit, monkey boy.” She says breathily, clearly affected as well.

“I'll be here. Hopefully. Assuming I'm still alive.” You half-joke.

“Relax.” She replies, even if you don't quite think she believes it either. The feel of her paw tenderly landing on your chest does wonders to allay your fears, however, and you give her a knowing smile before she returns it and wanders off to her bedroom.

You watch her leave for several moments, every little sway of her ears and twitch of her tail drawing your gaze like a moth to the flame. You don't even realize that you're standing there with a goofy grin on your face until another purple bunny toddles into your line of sight.

“Mike.” He says simply; awkwardly.

“Bonworth.” You reply, equally as unsure of what to say.

“So… ummm.” He tries to begin, tapping his fingertips together nervously.

“Yeah.” You add quietly, your gaze cutting downwards. “This wasn't something I was expecting either, Bon.”

He pauses at that, his face unreadable for several seconds. “That makes two of us, I suppose.” He concedes, and you're glad he's talking at least. “Still, Mike. I know you're a decent fella and all, but please, be careful. She's had a rough go of it. Both of us, really, but especially her.”

“I know.” You whisper, still shocked and upset by your doefriend's revelations earlier this morning. “I'm not like them, Bon. Beanie’s been my friend for over a year now, and I'd never do anything to hurt her. Especially not now.” you add firmly, determined not to screw this up.

He looks into your eyes for a moment, and you can see a subtle switch in his demeanor, almost an acceptance of the state of affairs. “Well, I suppose our li’l bunny’s gotta grow up some time. She could do far worse, that's for sure.” He adds, putting his stamp of approval on the two of you. It's not something you were necessarily looking for, but it feels good to have it nonetheless.

“I just hope she doesn't find someone better, Bon.”

“Aww, that's stinkin’ thinkin’, Mike. Beanie's never been one to be flighty.” He adds, gently placing a paw on your shoulder.

You take a breath, and sigh softly at the contact and genuine comfort being offered by the cornball rabbit. You give him a smile as you place your hand atop his. “Well, Bonworth, you've got one thing going for you with all this.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, one bachelor off the market, and without tying up anyone you'd date, either. Gotta love your chances now.” You add conspiratorially.

“Heh. Mayhap it’s time Bonworth C. Rabbinson went a-courtin’ after all.” He says with that goofy half-grin of his. You notice his gaze straying past you, and spare a glance over your shoulder in the same general direction, spotting Cheeky in conversation with Mango, Carrol, Chad and Chiclet.

“Mayhap, indeed, Bon. Though I don't think you’ll need to do much… what the fuck?” You ask, mouth agape as your line of sight has stopped pivoting back to Bonworth and is now instead riveted on Bonnibel and Peanut sharing a seemingly chaste, yet lingering, kiss under the low-hanging mistletoe.

Bonworth follows your gaze and immediately reaches the same conclusion. “Whiskers.” He gasps softly, paws finding his muzzle in flustered embarrassment.

For your part, you're curious as to who would put a druidic fertility symbol in such a strange location, as well as low enough that several people would run into it face first. Your answer comes when you follow the thread it's dangling from upwards to a white-furred paw sticking out of the overhead vent. You're stuck between admiring the audacity of the move, anger at yet more of Mangle's well-intentioned meddling, and bemusement at the surreality of it all. As you look back down to the no longer kissing pair, you're now wondering where the fire extinguisher is, since they are both blushing so hard their faces are likely to burst into flame at any moment.

Well, it's not like either one of them are going to take advantage of the other, right?

“Must be something in the air.” You mutter to no one in particular.

“Must be.” Bonworth echoes, and you'd swear you hear a bit of a smile in there.

“So we're cool?” You ask hopefully.

“Right as rain, Mike.” He replies, and you can feel a weight falling off your shoulders.

“Good.” You state simply, a warm, contented smile blossoming on your face.

“Just remember that rabbits mate for life, Mike.” He adds sagely.

“Well, since your mom already welcomed me to the family, that's not exactly a problem, is it?” You fire back easily.

“*Would* you be willing to marry her?” He asks, his voice again serious.

You think for a moment, making sure you're not speaking too quickly, nor giving him the mistaken impression that you're making something up either. “We're still coming to terms with how we feel about each other, Bon. I will say that I'm not opposed to the concept, but we're nowhere near the point where we're even discussing that.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” He concedes. “Whillikers, I still can't believe we're having this conversation.”