Author's Note: Well, in a perfect world, this was supposed to be typed up tomorrow on my own computer. Of course, the world isn't perfect. Far from it. My own computer is being overhauled in CompUSA, naturally.
Trixie21's doing a 'series' of one-shots called "Over the Rainbow" (read them now, I command you!) involving Cosmo and Wanda. This is sort of the same idea…only a little different. These are actually from LiveJournal's 30Kisses challenge community, but whatever. (I recommend that too, btw).
Oh, and if you flame this because it's Frankie and Herriman, I will personally hunt you down and rip out your throat. Just a friendly warning.
Topsy Turvey
Mr. Herriman had always been a very solitary creature. Yes, he might have feigned enthusiasm and occasionally the company of others when apropos, but other than his creator, no one quite grasped his emotions and he preferred to keep it that way. Thus, love entering the arena overturned the neatly assorted pile of papers on his mental desk and sent him scurrying underneath to retrieve them. Dignity, pride, surety all found themselves stomped on and his heart lurched in his chest. What was it about her that made him lose his composure and fall achingly for her?
A gorgeous sunset, resplendent with shimmering reds, oranges, yellows, and the streak of purple, went completely unnoticed. Instead, the curtains were drawn tightly, inciting stifling heat and, other than a desk lamp, virtual darkness. Cradling his rabbit head in his dress glove clad paws; he stared at the neat stacks of awaiting forms that had been sitting there since one o'clock this afternoon. Normally, a highly efficient creature, he would have finished them in a matter of minutes. Unfortunately, that creature seemed to be in hiding, because all he kept thinking about was Frankie. Every time he shut his eyes, she danced on the back of his eyelids; every time he glanced into his cup, her face swum in the liquid; whenever he fell asleep, she showed up in his dreams.
A sharp rap at the door brought him out of a reverie involving him, Frankie, and a lack of inhibitions he'd never possess in real life. He'd just finished envisioning his paws massaging her back and trailing kisses down her neck when his creator, deciding to take matters into her own hands, strolled in and rapped her cane smartly on the floor. Her sagacious emerald eyes, keener than one might imagine considering her age, swept the untidy office, normally pristine, and, of course, the parchment flooding his desk. He winced, swallowing hard and quickly concocting a flimsy explanation she didn't buy for a second.
"Madame, you, uh, caught me in the middle of-" he lied and she hopped onto his desk with surprising agility to whack him sternly on the top of the head. Rubbing his furry noggin gingerly, he glanced guiltily into her eyes before shifting away. Another rap brought him back to her.
"Daydreaming again, Funny Bunny," she chastised, scowling disapprovingly. "It's a wonder anything gets done anymore, with you drifting off like a fourteen year old cat."
Blushing profusely beneath his silvery grey fur, he cleared his throat and, rising out of his seat, hopped to the window to fling open the curtains. On the lawn, Frankie irritably raked the rogue leaves while Bloo cackled gleefully and tossed himself into pile after pile. Opening the window, he caught the words "leaf burning" and the blue, blobby miscreant scurried away before he became a fireball. Mr. Herriman snickered, picturing Bloo aflame and relishing the notion. If it weren't for his deal with Master Mac, he would have shipped Bloo off to the worse home that would have him. Because of Mac, he was forced to relegate the idea to a whimsical fancy.
The setting sun caught Frankie's auburn hair and stole his breath away. It framed her face like a halo and he thought, not for the first time, how like an angel she was. So perfect, beautiful, and so utterly above him. Like considering her angelic, placing her on a pedestal was commonplace for him. After his daily indulgence, he crashed back to Earth with alarming speed and poignancy. Wishing, after all, only wounded the heart.
"You're in love with her, aren't you?" Madame Foster murmured and he jumped, having forgotten she was there in the first place. Below, Frankie bagged the leaves, sternly ordered Bloo to stay away, and then proceeded to take no chances and lock them up. Bloo whined, but she brandished the rake and, muttering uncouthly, he sauntered off, presumably to cause more trouble.
"I…I don't know what you're talking about, Madame," he replied stiffly, unable to stop staring at Frankie. She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, leaned the rake against the shed, and, scanning the perimeter, left it there. Immediately, he wanted to scold her, but Madame Foster rapped him on the right rear paw and he hopped up, clutching his wounded appendage. She smirked, shutting the curtains and blocking his view. He opened his mouth to object, but she rapped him again on the same paw. Eyes watering, he hopped back to the desk.
Spreading her hands across his desk and shooting him an incriminating look, she said coolly, "When are you going to tell her?"
Mr. Herriman sputtered, swallowing saliva and choking on it in shock. Madame Foster waited until he calmed down, but she smiled knowingly. What? He was supposed to be the voice of reason here, not here. That was the way it had always been. And he was supposed to be the one in control of his emotions, actions, and mannerisms to a tee. When had the world flipped on him?
"I…" Why should he? What point did it serve? She'd never share his emotions or even accept them. He was beneath her, beneath radar and all importance. Besides, there were other, better suitors out there. She was destined for such better things than him.
He wasn't the same species…or real. Why should she turn to an imaginary rabbit when she could have a human that hadn't bossed her around, condescended to her, and was the bane of her existence? He knew she cursed his name under her breath, doubtlessly dreamed about torturing him like he imagined bothering Bloo, and how much she hated him. Once again, what was the point? He'd never change her and he shouldn't bother to try.
"You've never been in love before, have you?" she called, breaking him out of his endless self doubt and low confidence in romantic matters. He blinked, waiting for the throbbing to subside. Though she never deliberately hit him hard, the wounds smarted, nonetheless. Her eyes shone compassionately and, walking around the table, she hugged him around his midsection and then hopped onto the chair with him.
He didn't answer, but he found her presence comforting. She waited, but he kept his mouth shut. Sighing, she hopped onto his desk so there wasn't such an obvious height difference.
"It's not as wonderful as it's cracked up to be. Yes, people in love tend to be happier, but then there's the fact that love itself can be terrifying. How do you know if the person reciprocates? What if they don't? What if they're with someone else or care for another? What if they keep making the same mistakes and you're forced to take a sideline view while they hurt themselves again and again?
"The world is full of what-ifs and might have beens, Funny Bunny. The point is- you won't know until you open yourself up. Yes, you risk rejection, but the thing is if you never speak, you'll automatically lose."
Nodding to himself, he realized that while the world hadn't righted itself (far from it), it at least made a semblance of sense. And he could live with that.
Frances "Frankie" Foster glanced up at the window she knew his office to have. Her stomach somersaulted and she quickly turned, putting both it and the creature within out of her mind. Stupid dreams- what did they mean? Nothing. Just because she awoke wishing his kisses were real and dissatisfied he wasn't sharing the bed with her symbolized nothing. It probably meant she thought she had a good relationship with men or animals or something stupid. Dreams were never to be taken literally, were they?
How could it be an exploration of her deepest desires? She hated him, after all. Well, she hated him because of all the work he ordered her to do at ungodly hours and within unreasonable amounts of time. But she loved him because he was her grandmother's creation and she couldn't remember her life without him.
There it was. Love. She meant love platonically, didn't she? After all, there were so many differences between them, not to mention age and species. Differences like that were unbridgeable, weren't they? She ought to be looking at human men her own age, not wasting her time fantasizing about the one creature that wasn't. She ought to be, but she knew she couldn't because it was already too late.
Mac was a sharp kid, as previously established the second night the Foster's crew knew him. He also observed others closely and pinpointed miscommunications, interpreted body language, and discovered feelings never verbalized mentally, much less vocalized. Bloo, naturally, disliked doing what he considered "people watching" and sat in the den half asleep, staring at the TV blankly. As far as Mac was concerned, this held more appeal, since creatures often ran to him for advice. His shy nature and curiosity led to sitting on the park bench or staring out the window and wondering about people's squabbles and disagreements.
Frankie yanked open the front doors, stretched, greeted him warmly, and grinned, exhausted but pleased her workload had finished. She tousled his hair affectionately and pivoted upon hearing the tell-tale hops. The smile faded and she folded her arms across her chest. Mac scrutinized the imaginary rabbit and blinked, surprised to discover a deep blush that, fortunately for his sake, disappeared as quickly as Frankie's mirth. His eyes shot to Frankie; had she noticed it? No, it seemed not, because she was staring fixedly at him.
"Let me guess- 'here's another scroll that'll stretch from here into the end of the nearest hallway of chores'?" she said lightly, but her joviality was forced. Mr. Herriman's face fell.
"I…no." Confidence failed him and, distinctly ruffled, he wordlessly hopped back to his office. Frankie and Mac frowned; she shook her head to dispel the oddness of the situation. Smiling again, she sat beside him on the first step.
"Well, that was weird," Frankie said, rolling her eyes. "Sometimes I don't understand that rabbit at all."
Mac, meanwhile, mulled these recent events and decided, though the conclusion itself was odd and not exactly foolproof without more evidence. Wilt and Eduardo passed, talking animatedly. The purple, furry, bull-like imaginary friend nuzzled Wilt and he jumped, hitting his head on a low hanging doorway. Amazing the things you noticed when you had the opportunity. Creatures liked their secrets, but there were always little things that tipped you off. It could be a gaze that lasted a second too long, a touch that caused the other to jerk away swiftly, or, in Ed's case, a blatant display of love. Mr. Herriman, of course, probably would never evolve to the level of comfort and openness Eduardo exhibited, but he also knew that he was bound to have experienced this at least once in his life. And, if his blush meant anything, it materialized around Frankie.
"I think I do," he replied, staring at the walnut door. She glanced at him quizzically, but, rather than replying, he darted off to say goodbye to Bloo and leave before Terrence finished off all the food in the fridge and he missed dinner.
Things can be so simple to everyone else, but the two creatures involved. Then again, when is love ever simple? Has science ever deigned to fully explain it? Shouldn't some mysteries be left unsolved?
That night, Frankie dreamt again of them. A starry, clear night with every star in the sky illuminating the whiskers on his face and his soft fur. He held her hand in his paw and leaned in to kiss her. When she awoke, she was disappointed again.
Shutting his eyes in his four poster, Mr. Herriman found himself on the beach. Waves lapped the shore and sand squished under his paws. Normally, he'd hate this, but Frankie was beside him and smiling so happily, his heart melted. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in…
The alarm had never been less welcome in his life.