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I go through all this

Before you wake up

So I can feel happier

To be safe again with you

(Björk)

---

"Tell me, how do you feel?"

My fingers balled into a fist, digging into the soft earth. I swear, if he asked me that_one more time_...

"It 'makes me feel' pissed off, that's what," I snapped in reply, squinting sidelong at the badger sitting in his armchair. "I think we've established that by now. I mean, if you ask me that fucking question enough, am I suddenly going to have a breakthrough or something? Oh, my god, you're right!" I clapped a hand to my forehead in exaggerated shock. "I'm fucking angry, that's what,"

Dr. Attwood shifted in his chair, adjusting his posture so that one leg was draped over the other knee. He maintained his stupidly affable expression, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses and scribbling something on his notepad.

"We're just talking. Seeing where things take us. You've acknowledged that you want to get better at expressing yourself. Part of that is identifying how different things make you feel," he stated simply.

"Well, it feels like you're just pulling out every stupid trick in the therapist playbook. I mean, you dragged a fucking armchair_out here. I get that I'm not all that, er, conducive to your office and all, but _really? And you didn't even spring for one of those couch things for me. I'm pretty fucking disappointed in that," I replied in clipped tones.

I rubbed the dirt off on the knee of my jeans, glowering down at the idiotic makeshift office setup next to my knee on the grassy hill. He'd brought it all out in an effort to make me feel like it was a normal office session. But it just made me feel big. I shifted over a little. My legs were starting to go a little numb due to sitting cross-legged for so long.

"We can continue whenever you feel like it, Tabitha," Dr. Attwood replied evenly, staring down at his notepad.

"Well, I'll feel like continuing when you cut the bullshit," I sniffed.

Attwood remained quiet, the scratching of his pen the only thing breaking the silence.

"What the hell do you know about being me, anyway? What gives you the authority to pass judgment on me?" I pushed.

"Nobody said anything about judgment," Attwood replied in that crisp, posh accent of his. "I'm not wearing a silly wig and judge's robe or anything like that. We're just here to talk,"

I scowled. "You don't know anything about what it's like to be 90 feet tall. Your stupid Camford degree can't tell you shit about that,"

"I attended Oxbridge," Attwood corrected gently. "But I'm not important. This session isn't about me in any way. I'm just here as a facilitator to help you. This is all about you,"

"Is that why you're taking all those notes?"

My hand darted out and I plucked the notepad from the startled therapist's lap between thumb and forefinger. Dr. Attwood let out a small complaint as I screwed my eyes up, scrutinizing the thumbnail-sized paper as best I could.

"Have you been doodling? You've been fucking doodling. Wow. Thanks for fucking caring, asshole," I dropped the tablet onto the grass.

Ignoring the shouted protestations of Dr. Attwood, I got to my feet, brushing off the seat of my jeans as I strode away down the hill.

"You can't just walk off! These sessions are required! Your parole officer is going to hear about this!" the badger bellowed after me, spittle flying from his mouth. Wow. Talk about 0 to 60 in no time at all.

"Eat me," I muttered, not bothering to look over my shoulder.

*****

The door slammed behind me as I flopped onto my bed. I didn't give a damn about violating any of those stupid statutes or whatever; they could just take whatever it took to fix any of the resultant broken windows out of my paycheck. Oh, wait, that's right: I didn't have a godsdamn job anymore. For an unemployed person I was still pretty damn busy. Roger made sure of that. It was supposedly the court system and all that, but this had that fucking fox's fingerprints all over it.

Groaning aloud, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. That stupid crack was still there, mocking me. How long had it been there? Months? A year? Maybe it was as old as the house itself, I couldn't remember. But no matter how many times I asked for someone to come and repair it, nothing ever happened.

My mind wandered as I stared around my room. Much of my stuff had been gutted, removed at the behest of one of those godsdamn court orders. Motherfuckers. What the hell was I going to do with most of that shit? There was a lot of quibbling about public safety and all, but there seemed to be a line between safety measures and punitive action for the sake of punitive action. Nonetheless those stupid little toy furnishings I'd bought for Ciaran were still sitting around on my bedside table.

Scowling, I balled up a fist, reaching out and bringing it down on the wooden chair. I flinched as one of the legs pierced the side of my hand. Plucking the splinter-like leg of chair from my hand, I nursed my wound sheepishly.

I missed Ciaran. Talking with him, going out and doing things with him, even just seeing him. That was what I'd do--pay him a little visit. Yeah, a nice little pick-me-up. Swinging my legs over my bed, I got back to my feet and headed out my door, closing it more gently this time. He was still living in the Bell District, right?

*****

"You have some real nerve coming here, Tabitha," the wolverine said, his tone even but his eyes betraying his emotion. "Of course you can't see him,"

"But, Dad!" I pleaded softly. "I just want to say hello,"

The wolverine's ears drooped, but he shook his head. "It wouldn't be a good idea. For him or you. He's in a... fragile state, you know that,"

Of course. I'm godsdamn responsible for it. "Yeah..."

"And besides. Aren't you not allowed to even be within 100 yards of him or something? I don't want you to get in any more trouble, sweetie,"

"Don't call me 'sweetie,"

"But you are. I love you. I just wish you wouldn't have made some of the... choices you did,"

"Well, it's too fucking late for that now, isn't it? But great advice. I'll keep it in mind next time,"

"There won't be a next time,"

There was no softness or hesitance in Dad's voice when he said that.

"Right," I sniffed.

"I think it's best you left," Dad rubbed his elbow nervously. "I can come by your place sometime later and visit if you like,"

"Don't bother," I snapped as I got to my feet.

"Please don't push everyone away," Dad called after me as I made to stalk away. "We care about you,"

I spun on my heels, wanting to snatch the naggy little wolverine up and give him a good squeeze before realizing that probably wasn't a good idea. I opted instead to fold my arms across my chest, tapping my foot as I squinted down at him.

"Was that something Roger told you to say? It sounds like something he'd tell people to say,"

"N-no! It's just what I think,"

"Whatever,"

I stalked away from my dad's apartment building, picking my way back towards my home and the stupid crack in my ceiling. Maybe I should just move out of Saaduuts. This place seemed like my own personal Hell.

***********

***********

"You're talking about this place as if it's some sort of hellscape," I snorted, patting Tabitha on the shoulder.

"Ah, that's a good descriptor: hellscape," the ferretess replied, craning her neck to look at me out of the corner of her eye, a small grin playing on her lips.

"Well, if rain is your definition of Hell, then Saaduuts is certainly the Ninth Ring. Better get used to it,"

"No. There's rain and then there's rain. Last night was not normal by any stretch of the imagination. And during my first solo op, too!"

"Hey, you gotta take off the training wheels sometime. Even if 'sometime' means during one of the worst storms in recent memory," I shrugged. "You did a good job, by the way. Handled that wolf just as well as anyone could ever hope,"

"Thanks," Tabitha smiled. "It was pretty easy--he seemed pretty fine, just a little freaked out. Didn't hurt that he was cute, either," she added under her breath, flushing slightly.

"Hey, we wouldn't start you on a crazy one. We ease you in with a couple of softies before graduating you to the ones who are suddenly struck with the desire to try and set the record for Most Property Damage in an Hour or whatnot," I replied. Narrowing my eyes and grinning craftily, I prodded, "Cute, you say? Do I have to warn Ciaran that he has competition?"

"No! Nothing like that," Tabitha insisted hastily. Her voice softened and you could practically hear her go a little glassy-eyed. "It's just, it was a little hard to control myself when there was this really attractive, really naked boy sitting on my bed, wrapped in a blanket and shivering. You want to help him warm up..."

"You took him home? Ow-owww..." I teased.

"Hey, we were soaking wet and freezing! Had to go somewhere,"

"Hey, to each her own," I said as Tabitha came to a halt, arriving in front of MACRO Headquarters. I clambered off her shoulder and onto her offered hand, grasping onto the tip of a finger for support as she guided me over to the balcony.

"I'll have the report completed by early this afternoon. Assuming the Dictaphone doesn't crap out like it did on most of my operation shadows," Tabitha said, withdrawing her hand.

"The IT guy said it was 'fixed for sure this time'... so I wouldn't be surprised if it broke again," I shook my head with a rueful smile. Tabitha snorted, ruffling my fur slightly. "Thanks for the ride. And congrats again on the op. First of many successful ones to come, right?"

"Of course. And no problem. I'll see you later. Don't forget about the party later! My place, eight o'clock,"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I mumbled.

Gods, I hope that didn't come across as the groan I wanted it to be. Parties, really? Those sort of things were never my scene.

*****

Paperwork proved to be the continued bane of my existence. No matter how many times I filed reports, submitted monthly section budgets, or ordered godsdamn office supplies, more sheets demanding to be filled out would appear on my desk each and every morning. I had a pretty good idea what Purgatory was like at this point.

Grumbling to myself, I plopped down in my chair and stared aimlessly at the latest stacks that had materialized on my desk. Maybe I could reorganize the stacks. Yeah, they could probably use color-coding or something. That would take a good half hour or so, right?

With renewed energy, I opened a desk drawer, pulling out sticky notes and highlighter pens of various colors, I grinned from ear to ear. Working at MACRO for several years had taught me plenty of new and exciting ways to waste time while seeming busy. It was a talent.

A knock at the door.

"Come in," I mumbled, focused on sorting through the first stack, consisting primarily of supply requests and other such miscellany. The door slammed open, sounding as if it were just about to come off its hinges. From that alone, I didn't need to look up to know just who it was.

"I suppose I ought to be happy that at least you guys aren't beating around the bush anymore," Becca huffed, standing just inside the doorway of my office, arms folded across her chest.

Yep. Called it. That ferretess had been malcontent about one thing or another for the past weeks.

I glanced up from my papers. "What exactly do you mean?" I asked, trying (and probably failing) not to seem too exasperated.

"Cameron, Karl, and you in the bucket brigade relay race to unabashedly shit on me here at work," Becca snapped, crossing over towards my desk.

I tried to interject, confused and more than a little irritated by the accusations, but Becca ploughed right through me.

"I've worked here at MACRO for, what, six years? I got recruited right out of university," Becca sniffed. "And Tab's been 'working' for like two months. But who gets to work in the field? Tabitha,"

"Can we talk about this some other time?" I asked. I'd tread this ground countless times before with Becca. "I've got a lot to do right now. I have _three_case files to finish, the monthly report is due at 1700, and I need to call legal about the Todd trial. And that's saying nothing of this paperwork,"

Becca's expression indicated she wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. She cleared off a spot on my desk, shifting a just-sorted pile onto a filing cabinet and sitting down with arms folded. I groaned inwardly.

"Look, Becc. Like I've said before, the position Tab filled was open. Karl wanted something more in the field and she, frankly, has an advantage in the size department. She could really save time, effort, and lives down the road.

"Besides, you're brilliant in the Research and Development Division. It would be impossible to find a replacement for you,"

"You knew I wanted that job! You knew I wanted it and you still gave it to that--that--Tabitha," Becca fumed, her slight frame radiating barely-contained frustration as she stood across the desk from me, hands clenching into fists. "I have an 'advantage in the size department', too, I'll have you know. Well, sometimes, at least. But still.

"But do you guys care? No. You've just decided you hate me or some bullshit like that, so I can't have anything I want or deserve.

"Oh, and if that's not enough, I don't even get my own office anymore. I have to share with that fucking lynx Jeremy. I don't think he knows what a shower is. Why don't you just cut my salary while you're at it?"

Becca's snippy office comment was the last straw.

"Maybe you should have thought about your office before you, oh, I dunno, put your fucking FIST through the side of the godsdamn BUILDING!" I snapped, fixing the ferretess with my patent-pending death glare. "I'm sure you'll be getting your office back once repairs to it and the other rooms you damaged are complete,"

"It was the heat of the moment, okay?" Becca sniffed indignantly.

"And that's exactly why you aren't a good fit for the field," I retorted, ears pressed flat against my head. "You're too fucking hot-headed. Sometimes--most of the time--you need to take it down a notch or seven. You treat it like a godsdamn power trip; take some fucking responsibility once in awhile!

"I don't even know why you always bitch to me. I'm not your boss. I can't change any of that for you, even if I wanted to. And for the record, I think Karl made the right decision,"

Becca opened her mouth, faltered, and then spun on her heels, stalking out of the room in a swirl of starched lab coat.

I slammed my forehead onto the surface of my desk, scattering papers everywhere. Great fucking going, a real mastery of words there, Rodge. Real fucking articulate. Good gods, why was I only able to not sound like a complete ass when I was around people much larger than myself? Simple self-preservation?

*****

Becca was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when I got off work at Suit Yourself. Before I even had a chance to register what was going on, she had me by the wrist and was practically dragging me down the street.

"But... but the bus stop is that way," I gestured in vain. I knew the look on my girlfriend's face; she was on a mission and wasn't going to be easily swayed by much of anything at that point. "What's going on?"

"Me being totally done with all the bullshit I have to put up with at work is what's going on," Becca snapped in response. She came to a halt, a manic grin on her lips as she turned to face me. "I mean, don't you want to go on a date, Edmond? We haven't been with each other in ages,"

I blushed violently; she wasn't incorrect. In all of the months since Becca's accident, we'd only slept together once. She'd broached the topic with me once or twice, but I was too terrified to even want to risk it again. I loved her, but when there was suddenly just so much of her... well, it becomes a lot less sexy and a whole lot more oh-my-gods-should-I-have-written-my-last-will-and-testiment-before-doing-this.

"Tell me what's going on, really," I said, jerking my wrist free of the ferretess' grip. She scowled at me, narrowing her eyes as her tail lashed back and forth behind her. I plunged onward. "C'mon Becc. You can talk to me,"

"Don't pretend you know what's going on in my life," Becca snapped, dark eyes flashing. "You don't know shit about what it's like for me,"

"Becca... I'm trying to understand... honest. Help me understand. Let's just talk it out. Would you like that?" I held out a hand, desperately trying to placate my girlfriend. If I didn't calm her down, well, I didn't want the inevitable outcome to happen.

The ferretess laughed bitterly. "Please. Stay there in your fucking ivory tower. What's the hardest thing you have to put up with at your stupid tailor shop? Running out of thread? Well, I have to sit in a lab, fucking around with test tubes while some stupid rookie gets to run around in the field. I _deserved_that position. I have the seniority and the smarts. But Roger, everyone at MACRO, refuses to acknowledge either. I'm done taking shit from him.

"I'll make them understand their mistake. Tabitha could be dangerous. She's a huge gamble and they just refuse to see that,"

I gulped, nodding silently. Sometimes it was better to let Becca run her mouth. She usually only needed to get something off her chest and would be just fine after that.

Perhaps I should've intervened that time, though. Becca had succeeded in whipping herself into a frenzy in a matter of minutes, screaming herself hoarse in my face. One moment I was looking into the ferretess' infuriated eyes, the next, I was staring at her ankles, shreds of her tattered clothing arrayed on the pavement before me.

I squeaked as my now-gigantic girlfriend's knee slammed thunderously into the ground a couple of yards to my left. Becca's long, slim fingers wrapped firmly around my torso, yanking me off the ground. I would never be able to get used to the plunging sensation in my stomach that accompanied every time Becca decided she wanted to pick me up. Or the slightly unsettling smile, now magnified to an unimaginable scale as her face filled the majority of my field of view.

"You know, I feel a lot better now," Becca smiled sweetly, looping a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear with her free hand.

"That's, er, good," I breathed nervously as the giantess pinched the end of the measuring tape draped around my neck between thumb and forefinger, sliding it away from its customary location. I felt naked without my trusty tape, though admittedly perhaps a bit less naked than Becca at the moment. She studied the minuscule length of cloth with a smirk on her lips.

"Guess I'd need a few more of those tapes if I wanted to make you a dress," I ventured nervously, earning a hair-ruffling snort from the giantess.

Becca sat down cross-legged in the middle of the street, her knees brushing against the buildings on either side of the thoroughfare. She scowled at a lone car making its way down the street towards us, jerking her head for it to choose an alternate route.

"I think we're going to need to change our plans for the evening, aren't we?" Becca commented.

I offered a feeble protest, not entirely certain what the gigantic ferretess had in mind. Said protest was ignored, either because she didn't notice or didn't care. Hefting me in her palm, Becca was off, striding purposefully down the street.

*****

"You know, Tab, this is probably the best housewarming party I've ever been to," Ciaran chuckled, wandering down the length of the buffet spread that he'd set up on my bedside table and helping himself to another cupful of punch.

I laughed, sitting down on the edge of my bed and resting my chin on the surface of the table, a grin on my lips. "You must not have been to that many housewarming parties, then,"

Ciaran nodded in concession walking over to poke me on the tip of my nose. "Winthrop didn't exactly have much of a party-town reputation going for it, I suppose,"

Reaching over the mink's head, I gingerly plucked a bowl of chips off the little buffet table. Ciaran protested mildly as I tossed the bowl's contents into my open mouth.

"Now I'm gonna have to refill that," he sighed as I replaced the empty bowl. "I specifically got you your _own_spread,"

"You're gonna have to open all those packets for me, you know," I giggled, rolling onto my back. "I really don't want to test out what all that packaging would do to my system,"

"I just hope people start showing up to eat the spread. The party was supposed to start 15 minutes ago..." Ciaran sighed.

"No worries, little dude," I laughed. "Have you never heard of the term 'fashionably late'? Besides. I have the biggest house in town. Ain't nobody gonna miss that,"

Dad had really come through in the housing department. Before he even started arranging for his own apartment, the wolverine had ordered an entire fleet of movers to deconstruct my house back in Winthrop and move it to a vacant lot on top of Pill Hill near downtown. It was like the world's most elaborate IKEA furniture project or something.

Dad, meanwhile, had landed a humble but comfortable two-bedroom place in the Bell District. Ciaran had happily accepted his invitation to live there with him, but he spent a lot of time with me when he wasn't sleeping or busy elsewhere. Classes would be starting soon for him, so I had to relish all the time I had before he invariably became some sort of caffeine-addled, book-lugging zombie.

Ciaran and Dad really hit it off quickly, and I was pretty sure Dad needed the company to keep his mind off Mom. I needed that, too. Sometimes, I'd lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling and wishing I hadn't in some way brought about her demise.

A knock at the door jerked the pair of us to attention.

"Was that--" I hesitated.

"A knock," Ciaran confirmed nervously.

"But..."

A buzzer had been installed in the doorjamb at the height of a normal person so that I could unlock the corresponding tiny door and let any visitors in. Nobody would need to knock, unless...

"Er, the door's unlocked," I called out, unable to keep the nervous edge out of my voice. "Come in,"

The knob turned and I shifted over so that I was closer to the nightstand, ready to grab up Ciaran and keep him safe should the need arise. I exhaled through my teeth as the newcomer stepped in.

Becca. Of course.

Closing the door behind her, the giantess glowered at me, the intensity of her stare slightly magnified by the fact that she had to bow her neck in order to fit into the room, her shoulder blades brushing against the rafters. She stood fully head and shoulders taller than myself.

"What's up?" I asked hesitantly, trying to break the ice. I was getting plenty of that stuff coming from her chilly gaze.

Becca snorted, more to herself than anything else, before crossing the room, dropping her passenger haphazardly onto the nightstand before plopping herself into the rickety chair next to my desk. The chair was comically small for her; she looked like a parent at a conference for her kindergartener or something.

"Er, could you not put your ass all over the furniture?" I mumbled, sitting down on my bed.

"It isn't all over the furniture. It's in one place, and a place specifically designed for asses at that," Becca replied scathingly, shifting around defiantly as the chair creaked in complaint.

Deciding to choose my battles, I let it drop. Bigger fish to fry. Or ferrets. Whatever.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Not really. You _could_resign your position at MACRO, I suppose," Becca inspected her nails in boredom.

"You know I'm not going to do that," I snapped shortly. Softening my tone slightly, I added hastily, "You know I'm really sorry if I stepped on your toes or whatever. I didn't know you wanted the job. I didn't intend to piss you off, honest. I've explained that to you, Karl, and Roger,"

"Well, that hasn't seemed to penetrate Roger's thick skull, has it?" Becca retorted. "He can't seem to see past your size,"

My eyes flashed. Okay, you aren't going to pull the not-so-passive aggressive card in my house and hope to get away with it. Game fucking over.

"You know, in all this time, I am still really unclear on two things. One, I don't know why you're being such a colossal bitch to me. I really don't. Just fucking drop it. And secondly, I don't understand why you think this is some kind of godsdamn gift!" I snarled, gesturing at myself. "It isn't, in case you're curious. It fucking sucks. You know what I want to do? Go to university. Go to a movie theatre that isn't a drive-in. Eat a fucking hamburger for dinner. As in one hamburger. Kiss my boyfriend like a normal godsdamn person. You get my drift?"

Becca stared impassively at me. "I'm a giantess, too. So don't pretend I don't know any of that shtick,"

It took every ounce of self-control in my body not to tear Becca's head off. "You aren't stuck like this. You end up like this every time you overreact to some doubtlessly stupid bullshit or decide to get your rocks off. That's a fucking choice," I spat venomously.

Becca just smirked at me, studying me intently through narrowed eyes.

"If you don't have anything more to say, the door's over there," I snapped, pointing.

Becca arched a brow at me before shaking her head slightly, a knowing smirk on her head. "Oh, I'll leave, but only when I feel like it. Now, listen. I can't make you do anything. But. I could always mention all of those things you've done to someone at MACRO,"

My eyes flashed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, your little, ah, venting session back at that compound that tool Todd was keeping you. You _ate_people, didn't you? Or nearly did? I'm not certain. Reports are a little conflicting, but I suppose that's to be expected when a group of people is terrorized by a giantess. Heavy shit, regardless," Becca licked her lips for emphasis.

"I--I didn't eat anyone," I spluttered.

"Okay then. Still, it was about the only thing you didn't do," the ferretess snorted.

"How do you know about that anyway?"

I glanced over at Ciaran, who had stepped closer to my hand, a warning expression on his face. His ears were canted back a little.

"Well, even though I'm not a high-and-mighty field agent with MACRO, I still have access to files. Oh, and besides. Roger's brother has a big mouth. For being all secret-agent-y and whatnot, he can't keep his gob shut after he's had a couple. So I got all the juicy details on that little extraction mission.

"It really would be a shame if someone in charge at MACRO found out about it. Don't you think that would show you'd lied your way through the screening process? I mean, that's gotta be a sign of some sort of psychosis. No way a psycho could pass the mental health assessment. Couldn't risk a repeat episode... I mean, unless your number one fan Roger fudged the results or something, of course,"

"He didn't--I passed that test. I'm not crazy," I snapped.

Becca just rolled her eyes. "I get that we're all a little crazy, but do you honestly think that was a normal response to anything?" her gaze shifted hawkishly towards Ciaran. "I mean, what do you think about that? Or are you into that kind of shit? You like the crazy bitches?"

"Leave him out of this," I snarled.

"I'm just saying... I mean, if the wrong person were to hear about this... People could lose jobs. People could even go to jail, I would imagine. Even if MACRO's into the whole turning-a-blind-eye thing, I'm sure the public would love to hear if there's a gigantic murderous maniac in their midst,"

"Out. Get out," I spat, launching off my bed, hand poised to slap Becca.

The ferretess looked at me as if I'd proven her point and then slipped out of the room, scooping up Edmond on the way.

Ciaran and I exchanged shaken glances as the door shut after Becca.

"What was that?" I breathed.

"She's gone. That's all that matters," Ciaran replied, though he sounded just as nervous as I felt.

*****

I could smell something cooking as I stepped through the apartment door, pulling off my jacket and hanging it on its peg.

"What's going on?" I called. "Aren't we supposed to be getting ready to head over to Tabitha's party or whatever?"

Reynard poked his head around the corner of the kitchen doorway, tasting something with a wooden spoon. "_That_thing? Do you really want to go there?"

"Well... not really..." I confessed.

"Then let's skip!" the arctic fox suggested gleefully. "You came down with botulism or something like that. They'll have to understand,"

"Botulism," I snorted.

"Or whatever," Reynard waved the spoon dismissively. "Let's have a quiet nice night at home, just the two of us. I'm making dinner,"

"I could tell. And sure. I'd like that,"

Giving Reynard a peck on the cheek, I opened a drawer, pulling out a couple of placemats. "I'll set the table,"

"Way ahead of you,"

"Damn. You mean I don't have to lift a finger? You thought of everything?" I put the back of my hand to Reynard's forehead. "Sure you're feeling all right? It might be you with the case of botulism,"

"Hey, I'm not a total fuck-up all the time," Reynard protested lightly, swatting my hand away.

Dinner was actually quite delicious. Reynard whipped up one of his specialties, tuna casserole. It was always good, but tonight it was fucking divine.

"This is really great, Rey," I said glancing up momentarily from my plate at the Arctic fox across the table.

I stopped chewing, a slight frown creased my brow as I saw that he was staring back across the table at me, a nervous grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Is something the matter?" I asked.

Reynard put his fork down gingerly, blinking a few times before taking a deep breath.

"You know, I came up with a bunch of really stupid ideas for this, but they all seemed really cheesy and ridiculous. I just... aw, shit, Roger, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

My fork clattered onto my plate, slipping through my limp fingers as I stared across the table. Reynard winced.

"Oh," he mumbled, barely audible.

"Yes! Of course," I laughed, nearly choking on the mouthful of casserole I'd forgotten to finish chewing.

I launched myself across the table at my boyfriend. Wait. He was now my fiancé. Holy shit. Holy shit. I kissed him deeply, my fingers digging into the hair on the back of his head as I pulled him closer.