Dear Nick,

I got drunk today. Drunk as a skunk. Pissed as a fart, as your dad would say.

Why? I don't know. I sort of lost the reason between my sixth and seventh shot and couldn't be bothered to look for it. It's a Friday night, I don't have anything on my 'to do' list and I'm feeling all sorts of mopey and that's reason enough for me.

It's bourbon, if you're curious. The cheap shit they sell on special offer down at the supermarket. I got my paws on it for six dollars and frankly it's worth about three. It tastes like I'm swigging motor oil. Still, it gets the job done. I'm sitting in some beat up old recliner with the TV on and the ceiling fan whirring and I haven't been this happy in a long while. Sad, isn't it? To be so miserable that the highlight of your week is lazing in front of the TV, drunk and alone and writing letters to a kid who's never going to read them.

Well, screw it. It's a vice and I'm taking it and nobody's going to stop me. If there's anything this used up old vixen learned after two decades alone in this depressing little neighbourhood, it's that happiness is a rare commodity, and you'd do well to take it wherever you can get it - and it just so happens you can find plenty of it at the bottom of a bottle.

Things should be better than this. I should've moved on years ago. I should've tossed the photo albums in the trash and burnt the mementos and gotten on with my life. But I can't. Not when there's a chance you're still out there. Not when there's some wayward chance that I'll see you again. Not when I'm waking up every Friday to find my post box stuffed to the brim with dirty money from a son who doesn't want to see heads or tails of me.

Yeah, I got another one of your 'packages' today. How else do you think I paid for the booze?

Nick, I don't know if it's the alcohol writing this or me, but things would be simpler if you'd just died. If you'd choked on your morning cereal or strolled in front of a car or just spontaneously dropped dead on some sunny afternoon instead of leaving me like you did, then chances are I wouldn't need this bottle. I wouldn't need to sob myself to sleep every night, wondering what I did wrong. I wouldn't have to bother with worrying about you every minute of every day. I wouldn't have to endure the constant torture of having that little star of hope dangling over my head, whispering into my ear that maybe - just maybe - you'll be back some day.

Maybe then I'd finally have the guts to tie a noose and end this shit.

Love,

Mom.


Bonnie drummed her fingers agitatedly against the countertop, trying as hard as she could to will herself out of existence. Her heart was a raving jackhammer in her chest and there was a sinkhole at the bottom of her stomach getting wider by the minute. Her nerves were, for lack of a better word, fucked. Nick sat next to her with a dastardly smile penned neatly across his face, propped up by an elbow and leaning against the counter, rich with a swagger that came to him as naturally as breathing. Oddly, the homely backdrop of the 'Bouncing Bunny' bar fit Nick like a tailored suit... If suits were made out of drunkards and alcohol, that is.

Settled by the outskirts of town centre, away from the bulk of Bunnyburrows, the bar was something of a frequented watering hole for bunnies such as herself who lived away from the hustle and bustle of life amongst the burrows. That meant that The Bouncing Bunny had a smaller scope of frequent customers than the other two watering holes in town: The Raunchy Rabbit and The Hassled Hare - something which Bonnie reckoned more than validated the borderline-extortionate prices of the drinks. Five dollars might seem a little steep for a beer, but the fact that she got to drink it in peace and quiet made it worth every last cent. When you're a mother to a small army of kits living in one of the most densely populated towns this side of the hemisphere, a couple minutes of blessed silence felt like nothing short of a godsend.

Why, out of all the places, did she choose to take Nick here? Well, there were a multitude of reasons; none of which she could remember for the life of her. Nick had asked her what there was to do around Bunnyburrows, she'd panicked, blurted out the first thing that'd come to mind, and that thing just so happened to be the Bouncing Bunny. Over three decades of taxing parenthood The Bouncing Bunny had become something of a haven for Bonnie; maybe it was the broodingly dark crimson walls or maybe it was the worn barstools which creaked in just the right way when she went to mount them or maybe it was the smooth, glossy feel of the notched oak counter beneath her paws as she leaned into it, but the place came off as comfortably seedy in all the right ways.

Speaking of 'right ways', Nick had been probing her defences in all the wrong ones. It'd started out innocently enough: a kind inquiry into why she was so red in the face here and an offhand comment about how 'uptight' she seemed there. However, it soon became clear that Nick had himself an agenda. He knew she had something to hide and he wasn't at all opposed to letting her know it. All throughout the night Nick had been digging at her, chipping away at her resolve with simple observations like "you cold. Mrs. Hopps? You're shivering live a mouse trapped in an icebox," or "Looking sort of jumpy for a rabbit on a night out."

His tongue danced around the subject, flirting with it but never going all the way and throwing out an accusation. It took her a while to realise that he was teasing her, in his own devilish way. By now it was blatantly obvious that she knew something he didn't, and whether she was going to tell him what that something was wasn't a question of 'if', but 'when'. All this poking and prodding - that was just his way of making 'when' come around a little sooner.

At this point it was an inevitability. Sooner or later Nick was going to tire of the little word-games and ask her straightforward just what the hell she was keeping from him, and then she'd be seven kinds of screwed. She was struggling as it was - he'd laid out his questions intricately, in a way that avoiding one would mean stepping on another. He'd politely ask why she was sweating so much, and she'd tell him it was too hot. Then he'd nonchalantly remind her that she'd been shaking like a leaf five minutes ago because apparently it was too cold. She'd tangle herself up in her own answers and Nick would stand back and preen smugly as she tripped and tumbled over contradictions. As far as she could tell the safest thing she could do was restrict herself to communicating through nonchalant 'mmhmm's and polite nods.

"You okay, Mrs. Hopps?" asked Nick, feigning a slight concern. A mischievous spark of satisfaction twirled through his eyes as she scrambled through her brain for excuses.

"Mmhmm," she answered, nodding politely.

Flawless strategy, really.

"You sure?" he pushed, "You're looking sort of pale."

Bonnie shrugged nonchalantly, all the while seething on the inside. He'd bled her dry of excuses ages ago, and now she was hanging on by the skin of her teeth. Nick knew, of course. The devious lilt to his smile made it painfully obvious. He knew, and instead of just putting her out of her misery and straight-up demanding the truth out of her, he was content to bat her about like a new-born kitten playing with a yarn ball.

But what Nick didn't know as that Bonnie had an agenda of her own. A plan she'd oh so deviously masterminded roughly five minutes ago and mulled to perfection as she nursed back the pint of beer she'd ordered:

Get him drunk, break the news to him as gently as she could and pray that he didn't freak out.

Alright, so perhaps it wasn't the greatest of plans, but so far it was the best she could come up with. The way things were going, Nick would have the truth out of her regardless of whether she wanted to tell him or not. It was only a matter of time before he cornered her and squeezed out a confession, so she may as well give him one straight whilst he was more... Docile.

She'd already paid for his first drink. He held it in his paw; something exotically orange, sporting a slice of lemon and served in a tall, frosted glass. The sort of thing you'd expect to see on a Hawaiian beach rather than some scruffy, country-town pub. Say what you would about the Bouncing Bunny - you couldn't fault it for its variety.

With a casual toss of his wrist Nick emptied the rest of his glass down his mouth, and Bonnie allowed herself a small pat on the back. One down, a hundred more to go. By the time she broke the news she wanted him to be smashed enough not to care - and considering what she had to tell him, he'd have to be far and beyond the realms of 'tipsy' to not care.

She waved over the bartender, asking for refills. Nick went for his wallet, but Bonnie beat him to the punch, slapping a fistful of dollars down on the table and politely asking the bartender to leave the bottle and fetch them a second glass. Something told her this was going to be a night she'd rather forget, and nothing bleached the memory quite as well as alcohol.

"So you come here often, Mrs. Hopps?" asked Nick, surprising Bonnie with something that very well might've been a genuine attempt at conversation. For a brief moment she allowed herself to hope that he'd miraculously decided to give up on hounding her for secrets and settle on normal small-talk instead. Then she caught the scheming glint in his eye and she tossed her hopes head-over-ass out the window. This wasn't surrender, it was a short, five-minute coffee break between all his prying. She decided to play along, mindful not to let her guard down.

"Sometimes... well, a lot of times. It's sort of a hideaway for me. Life with kids can get a little hectic from time to time and some times it's nice to..."

"Drink away the stress?"

"... Something like that." she admitted shamefully. "That sounds bad, doesn't it? Mother of over two hundred going out and getting drunk every Thursday?"

Nick shrugged, plucking up the bottle the bartender had left and pouring himself a fresh glass. "Miss Hopps, I've barely spent a day around your family and I'm already reeling from the exhaustion. If that's what you put up with twenty-four-seven then I'm surprised you don't come here every day of the week," he chuckled fondly, shaking his head. "I mean, I've been living with Judy for all of four months and I'm already wondering how you guys dealt with her. Every morning she's up at five-thirty, chomping at the bit and she doesn't settle down 'till we get back home. It's exhausting..." he complained tenderly, words tempered with love.

Bonnie couldn't help but relate, surprising herself with a hearty chuckle of agreement. "Oh, trust me, I know. Judy... she was a wild one in her youth. You know that one kid who's always trying to climb on things? Well, that was our Judy. Back in the day she used to get into all sorts of trouble - that little bunny's been through more bumps and scrapes than you'd believe - used to be she'd have a new Band-Aid for every day of the week."

"Oh, I'd believe it, alright," said Nick, refilling his glass before promptly emptying it. Bonnie found herself joining in, swigging back the last of her beer and sampling some of the vibrantly coloured firewater. It burned pleasantly at the back of her throat and stoked a warm flame in her belly. "Hell, I've been living it ever since I met her. As things used to be I was raking in two, three hundred dollars a day melting down popsicles. Nowadays I count myself lucky to make it through the morning without a trip to the emergency room..." he snickered to himself, as if caught up I some fond memory of his.

"I wouldn't trade it for the world, you know," he said, suddenly serious. "Your daughter... She's the best mammal I know," he leaned his back into the counter, chest heaving with a contented sigh, eyes glassy with the onset of drunkenness. "And being with her - all the small ups and downs aside - well, it's a little like being in heaven."

Maybe it was the plain, straightforward way he said it, or maybe it was the starry, bewitched twinkle in his eye, but from that point on Bonnie knew for an absolute fact that Nick Wilde was head-over-heels in love with her daughter.

She hadn't been sure up until now. Being a mother to as many as she was, she'd grown accustomed to seeing her children bring home brusque young men and femme fatales, convinced they'd stumbled upon their soul mates. She'd shaken the paws, hooves (and on one occasion, trunks) of dozens of mammals, all claiming to have loved one of her kits. Some meant it, others didn't, and over the years Bonnie had become something of an expert of discerning between the two.

Nick meant it, and he meant it with all the passion and conviction one fox could muster. He meant it the same way Stu had meant it when he'd gotten down on one knee in the middle of town square and offered her a ring. With every fibre of his being he loved her daughter, and would do so until his heart gave way or a speeding truck turned him into gut-spaghetti or he choked to death on a peanut. Then he'd love her from that place wherever dead folk went.

Suddenly last night's spying seemed more of a mortal sin than a simple, poor choice of judgment. Her mind reluctantly reached back, replaying the events in her head, trying its hardest to skip over the sloppy, X-rated parts and focus on the ending - Nick embracing Judy sweetly in his arms and lulling her softly to sleep. Getting on as Bonnie might be, her age hadn't dimmed her memory in the slightest, and she could still recall it perfectly. The tender way he'd pulled her to his chest. His hum of satisfaction as Judy nestled her head into the crux of his neck. That small, elated sigh of euphoria as he buried his nose between her ears and breathed in her scent. It'd been one of those simple, raw shows of affection that lovers only shared in private. Something sacred. And she'd defiled it.

A coil of guilt twisted in her stomach, and Bonnie reckoned that she could do with another drink.


"She used to wear a nose ring?!" exclaimed Nick, finishing off his fifth glass and making a start on his sixth.

"You bet," replied Bonnie, brandishing a photograph and choking on drunken laughter. It was one of the many family photos she kept stuffed in her wallet, this one being of Judy in her rebellious teenage years, draped in black and dappled with piercings. "Told you she'd went through a Goth phase. Honestly, you wouldn't believe how far she took it," she leaned in close, cupped a paw around Nick's ear and whispered. "This one time, she even tried to get her name legally changed to 'Nightshade'."

"Nightsh-" Nick snorted, doubled over and exploded into a hysterical fit of laughter. "Nightshade! I... Oh my God that's gold!" he swiped a tear from his eye, inspecting the photograph closer. "Jeez, she really did go all-out with it, didn't she? I didn't know they made rocker boots that big... and fishnets, too?" he shook his head disbelievingly. "You realise I'm gonna tease her into oblivion for this, right?"

"Oh I'm counting on it. That'll teach her to hide secrets from her mother," she said, delivering a playful punch to Nick's arm. "Really, I can't understand why she didn't tell me about you sooner!"

She understood perfectly. When your boyfriend was a former conman, a fox, and an all around loveable rogue to boot, telling your parents about him was the last thing on your mind. And Stu - God forbid. As loveable as that lug was, he was still racist as sin. Sure, he'd made some progress after they'd partnered up with Gideon Grey, but put him in a room with five or more predators and the rabbit would be searching desperately for an exit. It wasn't his fault - at least, that's what she told herself. Stu's parents hadn't been the most accepting of folks, and they'd coddled him all throughout his childhood. A mindset instilled as thoroughly as that couldn't be changed overnight.

"Oh, y'know," agreed Nick, drawling drunkenly "she's pretty much constantly busy nowadays. Don't take it too personally if she forgets to let you in on the odd secret or two...". He raised his glass to his lips, tasted the alcohol on his tongue, and put it back down, deciding that he'd had enough.

"Yeah... *hic*"

And from the sound of it, so had she. She cursed herself under her breath, having promised herself not to get drunk. Thankfully, Nick appeared to be worse off. He swayed back and forth on his stool, slumping drowsily and steadying himself with a firm paw upon the countertop. He'd had his fill and knew it.

Meaning there'd be no better time than now to break the news...

Right.

She'd been trying and failing to piece together an admission for a while now, rarely getting any further than the first sentence before she started lingering on all the horrible ways things could go wrong. She'd analysed every possible approach and each and every one had ended in utter chaos. Bonnie had convinced herself that Nick would throw a tantrum or deem her some sort of depraved pervert and take off on the first train back to Zootopia with Judy in tow - she paled to imagine what Judy would think of her. Her own mother. A peeping Tom. Picturing her reaction alone was agony.

She fondled at the idea of simply not telling Nick anything - an idea which now seemed more appealing than ever. She'd keep her mouth shut, he'd go back to prying, and hopefully, with a little bit of luck, he'd give up and Bonnie would sweep the whole experience beneath the carpet and keep it there until the end of time.

'Or, you know, he'll put two and two together and figure it out on his own,' the voice of reason chimed in her head, bitterly truthful. 'Be honest with yourself, Bonnie; you're terrible at keeping secrets and Nick Wilde doesn't seem like the sort of fox who'd give up on a whim. Looks to me like your choices are either tell him now or suffer on a slow burn. Damned if you do, damned if you don't, old girl.'

'... Screw it.'

"So Nick, you and me... We're friends, right?" she began with a nervous lick of her lips. "I mean, I know we've only known each other for about a day or so, but we've gotten along well enough, right?"

Nick cast her a sideways glance, a spark of suspicion dancing in his eyes behind a mist of drunkenness. He'd picked up on her nervous demeanour almost immediately. Drunk off his tail and still sharp as a needle, it would seem. He weighed her words with a sarcastic hum of deliberation before answering "well, I wouldn't call us besties just yet, but I'd say we're on our way there, yeah."

"And there's no secrets between friends, right?"

Nick's ears perked in interest, his curiosity wetted. "Mrs. Hopps, in my experience there's always secrets amongst friends - but don't let that stop you. You were about to fess up on what's been bugging you since this morning, right?"

The straightforwardness caught her off-guard, fraying her nerves with a jolt of surprise. She composed herself quickly, determined not to let Nick see her squirm. "Uh... Yes, actually,"

The surface of her heart iced over in cold anticipation.

"You see..."

Her pulse hammered in her ears as her cheeks flushed red and her mouth went dry.

"Last night I might've..."

A horrible amalgamation of dread and terror clambered up her spine and fastened its arms around her in a chilling embrace.

"Seen something I shouldn't have."

...

"Mind expanding on that, Miss Hopps?"

"Oh for - I saw you and Judy going at it like a pair of jackrabbits at high noon!" she exploded, the frothing mass of anxiety that'd been broiling away inside of her since last night finally spilling over. "I sneaked a quick peek in on my way back to bed and ended up watching the whole damned thing because I'm a sick, depraved pervert and couldn't look away and I've been thinking about it ever since!"

Bonnie clapped a paw across her mouth, almost as if in afterthought. The realisation of what she'd said crashed over her in a chilling tidal wave of shock, gradually stiffening into dumbstruck horror and disbelief. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Words wouldn't come. The world ground to a halt and numbed into the background as a cold, nameless emotion rose from the depths of her belly, filled her chest and condensed on her tongue in a sour, metallic taste.

Shit.

Nick blinked, looked down into his glass and tossed it back with a casual indifference. His silence weighed down on bonnie more than words ever could. Finally, after what seemed to be a thousand forevers, Nick spoke.

"That's it?"

And like that, the world decided to start moving again. She wasn't picking chunks of glass from her face or nursing bloody bite-marks. She wasn't gathering her teeth from the floor. Nick wasn't raging and yelping indignation down her ear or storming off back to the train station to catch the first trip back to Zootopia. For a moment, Bonnie dared to think that she'd imagined the whole confession. Then Nick spoke again.

"I mean, it's weird, sure - unless watching your kid get busy with it is, like, some kind of creepy bunny thing Judy never bothered telling me about -" he paused, suddenly thoughtful. "And just so we're clear, that's not a thing, right?"

Bonnie wordlessly shook her head, jaw hanging on its hinges.

"Good," he said, lips curdling into a drunken leer. "Rabbit-habits are weird as hell. You know what a 'binky' is? Yeah, well Judy deigned to show me a couple of weeks back... Took me ages to get all that furniture back into place... Anyways, what I'm trying to say here is that I'm not all that bothered. Trust me, I've been caught doing far worse things by far worse mammals than you." he explained as casually as one would discuss the weather.

"You're... Not mad?" asked Bonnie, uncertain whether to be confused or simply relieved.

Nick shrugged. "I'm a little weirded out, I'll admit," he confessed. "I mean, my girlfriend's mom just told me she watched us have sex. That's... well it's up there as one of the more stranger situations I've come across. Mad, though? I dunno. Should I be? Sure it's an invasion of privacy and all, but from what Judy tells me 'privacy' doesn't really count for much around here. Frankly I'm more surprised it got to you as much as it did."

If she hadn't been confused before then she certainly was now. "Surprised it got to- Nick, I watched you use your mouth to... To do things..." she trailed off, emphasising her disgust with a shudder. "It's just... off-putting."

"Off-putting? Really?" said Nick incredulously. "Mrs. Hopps, not to cause offence, but you'd be the last person I'd think would be timid when it comes to the hanky-panky."

"What? Why?"

"... How many kids do you have again?"

"Now? Almost three hundred. But what does that-" her cheeks bloomed cherry-red as her mind caught up to her. "Th-that's different! " She defended, going from confused to somewhat miffed in the space of a heartbeat. It was one thing to downplay what should've been a deal-breaker in terms of their relationship, but it was another thing entirely to suggest that she was some... Some kind of freaky, sexual deviant!

"The bird and the bees would disagree," purred Nick, "Last time I checked making babies requires a tangle or two under the sheets, and guessing from how many cottontails you've got hopping around the homestead, I'd say you and Stu have done an awful lot of tangling." the teasing edge oiled its way back into his voice and a devious smile curled menacingly at the sides of his mouth, a smile which she realised with a mounting dread he'd been hiding from the moment they'd began talking. The realisation fell upon her fast and hard, like a swift back-hand to the face.

He'd been expecting this from the beginning.

The easy acceptance of how she'd spied on him, the cool response to her... Explosive... Outburst, the quick and precise way he'd turned the argument on it's head... He'd known - somewhere along the line, maybe halfway through this mornings breakfast, maybe sometime during their visit to Gideon's bakery or maybe from the moment they'd stepped into the cosily decrepit watering hole of The Bouncing Bunny Nick had figured her out and set about turning her night into a living, awkward hell.

She would've been furious had she not spied on him having sex the night before, so instead she settled on 'slightly perturbed'.

"... So how long have you -"

"known you watched me and Judes?" finished Nick, drinking in her surprise with an expression shot through with smug satisfaction. "Ever since you started blushing. I mean, when you think about it, it was a simple matter of deduction, really. One day you're fine, the next you've got a face like a tomato. You saw something overnight that made your cheeks light up like a Christmas tree, and when you think about it, it only ever could've been one thing." the explanation rolled smoothly from his tongue, as if it'd been the simplest thing in the world.

At some point Bonnie had dropped her head into her paws, nursing what felt like an early hangover. "Great. So you knew ever since we started this damned night out..." huffed Bonnie grumpily. "Any reason why you didn't just tell me right off the bat and save us both the trouble?"

"Two words, Mrs. Hopps," said Nick with a smirk, rocking his empty glass between his fingers. "Free drinks!"

Bonnie stared owlishly, eyes drifting between Nick and the bottle of alcohol on the counter next to him, all but drained by the two of them. Her brain did a tally of what they'd drank through the night and how much of that had came out of her pocket.

An entire night's worth of drinking, and Nick hadn't spent so much as a dime.

She couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Hustling son of a bitch.


Bonnie swayed down the road, concentrating on the seemingly impossible task of putting one foot in front of the other. Nick ambled drunkenly beside her, lurching forwards every third step or so only to catch himself mid-fall and narrowly avoid a face-full of dirt. She couldn't decide which as more funny: his awkward stumbling or his horrific attempts at singing.

"Biiiirds don't just fly... they fall down aaaand get uuuup! Nobody learns- uh... Something-something TRY EVERYTHIIIIIING!"

Bonnie clapped, hysterical with laughter. Nick had been piping pop songs for the last quarter of a mile or so, and for once Bonnie was grateful that they lived so far away from town; he would've woken up the entirety of Bunnyburrows otherwise.

"Bravo, Bravo!" she cheered, nearly doubling up in a fit of giggles as Nick took a theatrical bow, complete with a stately flourish of his tail.

The night had gone on far, far longer than she'd thought it would. Not long after they'd finished getting drunk off their tails Bonnie had made the fatal mistake of letting it slip that there was a karaoke bar nearby. Naturally, as all terrible singers do, Nick had insisted that they go there and sing their hearts out. What ensued was a ballet of stupid, clumsy fun and an entire crowd worth of bunnies laughing their asses off at one particularly sloshed fox.

That should've been the end of it, but then, on their way to the bus station, Nick had caught sight of the local arcade, wreathed in neon and peppered with flashing lights. He'd begged her for "just one round of Space Invaders" and they'd ended up spending a small fortune worth of quarters. Nick had managed to get himself into the top-ten scoreboard in 'Asteroids' and Bonnie had, to her surprise, proven to be a crackshot with a light-gun.

And finally, as they staggered away from the arcade arm-in-arm, Nick had asked, half-jokingly, whether there were any discos nearby. Apparently he'd caught a sudden, aggressive strain of 'disco fever' and the only cure for it was to swagger on down to the closest dance floor and bust out some moves copied straight out of some cheesy seventies musical. It'd been stupid, it'd been goofy and whenever Bonnie thought back to it she cracked up into raunchous laughter anew.

"So Whaddya think?" slurred Nick. "Am I... *Hic* ...Am I rock star material?"

"If I say yes will you stop singing?"

"Maybe, if you butter me up real good."

"Then you're a musical butterfly, Nicky."

Nick gasped delightedly, fluttering his eyelashes and fanning himself with a paw. "Well consider me wooed. Miss Hopps, you never told me you were such a charmer!"

Another gout of laughter spilled from her mouth, and once it started it refused to stop. By the time they'd reached the Hopps estate she was gasping for breaths between chuckles. She stopped by the front door, determined to have the last word of the night - as soon as she stopped giggling, that was.

"Nick, tonight was... Well, It's been a long while since I enjoyed a night as much as I did this one," she admitted, bashfully fondling the set of keys in her paw. "And the whole thing about me... Looking where I wasn't supposed to... Thanks for letting me off easy, Nick."

Nick shrugged, waving her off with an easy smile. "No problem - just make sure to keep it our little secret, alright? Judy would probably die from embarrassment if she ever found out, not to mention she'd kick my ass for not telling her in the first place."

"Our little secret. Right," repeated Bonnie, a tremendous weight lifting from her shoulders. She unlocked the front door and felt the familiar warmth of home-sweet-home coil itself around her, and her eyelids drooped in response. She was tired - tired to the point where a warm bed to cosy up in and a warm husband to squeeze on seemed nothing short of paradise. Lucky for her, she had both waiting for her upstairs. "Well, I'm all set to pack it in and call it a night," she said, stifling a yawn.

"Same here," he said, swaggering towards the stairs, only to pause at their foot and cast a sly wink over his shoulder which was equal parts teasing and seductive.

"And don't worry, I'll make sure to close the door this time round."

For he umpteenth time that night, Bonnie blushed.


Fucking finally.

This was, for lack of a better term, hell to write. Basically my brain decided to lock up on me. Sorry about that.

Anyways, seeing as I've been something of a prick in making you guys wait about a month and a half for an update, I think it's only fair that I treat you. Who here wants a lewd chapter?