This extra bonus was nagging at me while I was attempting to work on Lester's Happily Ever After this morning, so I had to give in and write it.

Bonus Behind the Scenes Footage

Lester was hunched over his laptop in the rec room on the fourth floor, looking more focused than he ever had when undertaking monitor duty or background searches. Bobby thought nothing of it, though, as he made is way to the snacks Ella had left out for the men; Lester often got tunnel vision when he started a new computer game or was engaged in deep discussions and arguments on one of those online forums he frequented. He'd snap out of it when he was hungry or the phone alarm for his next shift sounded, whichever came first. There was nothing to worry about.

Bobby selected a mini Christmas tree that had been constructed out of what appeared to be trail mix and crossed the room to take a seat next to his partner and long-time friend. There may not be anything to worry about but checking up on the man couldn't hurt. Leaning back far enough to see the laptop screen over Lester's shoulder, he discovered that he was neither engaged in a battle of words, nor navigating a world made of pixels. No, he was rearranging photos on a red and green background.

Interesting.

"What are you doing?" Bobby asked, popping a pretzel in his mouth.

"End of year wrap up power point for the Christmas lunch," he explained, not moving his eyes from the screen.

"Doesn't Tank usually do that?" Bobby questioned, a frown darkening his expression. The wrap up power point always had an element of fun woven into it, being that it was presented at the more casual lunch event rather than the official end of year team meeting, but it also served as a reminder of everything they'd overcome and achieved as a company in the last twelve months. The intention was to prompt reflection and boost morale. Tank handled the balance between fun and professional with ease, but it seemed to Bobby that allowing Lester to get his hands on the presentation would be like throwing the professional part out the window. They'd end up with a gag real, or a massive roast session.

Lester did look up then. "Tank's family is in town for the holidays, so he doesn't have time this year," he explained, stealing a nut from the Christmas tree and tossing it into his mouth before Bobby had a chance to protest. "I happened to be in the room when he was looking for volunteers to take the task off his hands."

This erased the frown from Bobby's face, opening the expression into one of surprise. "And he chose you?"

Lester shrugged. "I may have begged him a little." He clicked a few more times on the track pad before turning the laptop so that Bobby could see the screen better. "Wanna see what I have so far?"

Bobby nodded. It was probably for the best that someone check his work for him.

A minute later, the presentation was over and Bobby was torn between being impressed by the quality of Lester's work, and pointing out the very obvious flaw in the content. He was saved from such deflating observations, though, when Junior piped up from the couch nearby where he'd been silently reading a paperback mystery.

"That was mostly just pictures of Bombshell and her escapades," he pointed out. "What about the rest of our operations?"

The three of them rewatched the presentation. None of them could deny the truth in Junior's words. "The other stuff is boring," Lester said in defence of his artistic decisions. "Looking back on a year of Steph is far more entertaining."

"It needs to be a full overview, though," Bobby said, not that he could disagree with Lester's views. Stephanie Plum was much easier on the eyes than the other ugly mugs he had to work with. And there was something innately satisfying about looking at photos of car fires that just couldn't be achieved by the group photo from the end of their training weekend when everyone had been mud soaked and scowling.

"Does it, though?" Woody asked, pulling a chair up to their group. He'd caught the second viewing, and an idea was taking shape in the back corner of his brain. "What were Tank's exact instructions for the power point?"

"Don't fuck it up," Lester supplied in his best impression of Tank's deep, rumbling voice.

"Apart from that," Woody prompted.

Lester thought for only a moment before a grin started spreading across his face. "He just said that it had to cover the whole year not the whole company."

Woody nodded, matching his grin. "I have an idea, gather the usual suspects and meet me in my apartment."

*o*

Eleven men filled the kitchen and living areas of Woody's apartment fifteen minutes later, waiting semi-patiently as Woody fiddled with something on his laptop. No one knew why they'd been summoned privately, though the fact that only the higher ranking men had been gathered wasn't lost on them.

"Can we hurry this along?" Tank requested, glancing at his phone. "I'm supposed to be meeting my mother for dinner in half an hour."

"I only need ten minutes of your time," Woody announced, setting the laptop aside. "What is the one major change that has occurred at Rangeman in the past year?" he asked not just Tank but the room at large.

"There was silence for a beat as everyone exchanged glances.

"Uh, we got that new install system that optimises the positioning of the-"

"Wrong!" Woody yelled cutting Zip off. "That's ridiculously wrong. Lester, what's the biggest change at Rangeman?"

Even Lester was unsure of the direction Woody was attempted to steer this meeting in, but drew on what little information he had to formulate his reply. "We're co-ed now?"

That must have been the right answer, because Woody slapped his hands together, pointing in Lester's direction. "Exactly!" he exclaimed. "We added Stephanie Plum to our full time ranks, which had made keeping her safe much easier, right?"

Vaguely affirmative murmuring filled the space.

"It hasn't really reduced the number of incidents though," Hank pointed out, raisting his voice to be heard over the hubbub.

"You're not wrong," Woody agreed. "But thanks to her having full time access to Rangeman resources, she's come out of the other side in a much better position than she normally would have." To prove his point, he pointed a finger at Bobby. "How many major injuries has Bombshell had this year?"

Bobby shrugged, it wasn't like he kept a tally on his phone for that kind of thing. "She can't have been injured more than ten times total," he eventually said after a mental count. "Only a couple were major."

"Perfect!" Woody said. "You'll be number ten: Ten injuries healing."

A lot of blank looks stared back at him. He'd neglected to explain his idea before jumping into the middle of the planning.

"what is this about?" Tank eventually demanded.

"The twelve days of Christmas," Wood explained, throwing his arms wide. "We rewrite the lyrics to let Steph know how much we appreciated having her on the team."

Junior frowned. "And we achieve that by reminding her of how many times she got hurt this year?"

"That's just one element!" Lester insisted having caught on to Woody's wavelength. "We show her our love by replaying her greatest hits."

"What are some typical Bombshell things?" Woody asked.

A barrage of answers sailed through the air so fast that he could barely keep up as he plugged each idea into the Word document he had open on the computer.

"Donuts!"

"Her gun's never loaded!"

"She's always covered in garbage!"

"She looks sexy as hell all made up for a distraction!"

"The Burg gossip!"

"Anyone notice how she has this uncanny ability to hit Hal with a few hundred vaults from the stun gun?"

It continued until Woody had noted down all of the ideas that had been thrown out. "Excellent work everyone!" He said, counting through the dot points he'd made to double check that they had twelve. "I'll put together the new lyrics and email them out along with a backing track."

"Wait, when are we doing this?" Zip asked, raising his hand.

"The final team meeting is next week," Lester said. "We should do it then."

Everyone nodded agreement and Tank looked at his phone again. "That was five minutes longer than you pledged. I better hadn't be late to dinner." And with that he took his leave.

*o*

The email containing the new Twelve Days of Christmas lyrics along with verse allocations and the backing track was sent out less than two hours after the last person had filed out of Woody's apartment. Woody had also included instructions to practice their set verse and that they'd meet again on Saturday evening to 'rehearse' as a group. By the time Saturday rolled around, though, a number of complications became apparent. First, Woody had assigned Zip two verses by mistake. Second, without Zip on two verses, they were a man short. And third, there was a reason the Rangemen weren't known for their singing talents: most of them didn't have any.

"This is a disaster," Bobby murmured to Lester as Hal attempted to renegotiate his verse.

"We can't sing this if we want Steph to continue working with us," Lester agreed.

"And we needed another man."

Lester tipped his head to the side, considering. "If there was half a hope of staying in time, I'd suggest doing the last verse all together, but…" he gestured to the crowd as if that finished his point sufficiently.

"We should give the last verse to Ranger," Tank said, having approached the pair in time to hear the alterations they were contemplating. "It makes sense lyrically, and he'll be at the meeting anyway."

"Would he go for it?" Bobby asked, hesitant.

"It's his men showing appreciation for his girlfriend," Lester pointed out. "If he's not down for it there's something wrong with him."

Tank nodded agreement, pulling his phone from his pocket. "I'll forward him the email with the details," he said.

"I'll make the suggestion that we switch to speaking our verses with the track playing in the background," Bobby added, standing from the small dining table. "To save our sanity and our ears."

"And I'll finish off the powerpoint and sent it to Hector so he can set it up on the projector."

"Team break," all three said in unison, splitting off to complete their allotted tasks and hopefully save this shemozzle of a Christmas gift to their favourite Range-gal.

*o*

This was not what Ranger had been expecting from the email Tank had sent over the weekend. All the information he'd received about this touching gesture had pointed toward singing. But none of the men so far had sung their verses. And with the change overs between verses there was no way they could have stayed in time even if they'd tried. (IT did not appear they were trying.)

-What happened to the singing?- Ranger texted the group chat he had with Tank, Lester and Bobby while Stephanie was enthralled by Binkie's verse.

-Had to nix it. Sounded like wounded bulls,- Tank replied promptly.

Ranger had put a great deal of effort into ensuring he could sing his verse in time and in tune with the backing track provided since he'd been unable to make either of the rehearsals that had been organised in the last couple of days. -I practiced in the car for nothing?- he sent back. -You could have warned me.-

-YOU SHOULD SING YOUR VERSE!- Lester sent in all caps excitement. -IT'S THE PERFECT ENDING!-

Ranger started to pay less attention to the men's 'reports' and kept a close ear on the backing track instead, counting off the numbers as it cycled through again. There would have to be a pause, he realised as Tank got up to deliver his lines, but didn't he love to keep his Baby in suspense? The delay would be worth it to see that adorable little frown line between her eyes.

The men started arguing in the interlude while the backing track caught up, and Ranger suddenly understood why they hadn't been able to pull the song off to the fullest: they hadn't left enough time to prepare. Ranger had assumed they'd had this plan in place for week and he'd just been a last-minute addition.

He was wrong.

He shouldn't have stressed so much about getting it right. Anything he did was going to sound spectacular against these screwballs.

Lester was just opening his mouth to sprout some witty comeback when the track reached the top of the final verse and Ranger began to sing, pulling Steph into his lap when she turned wide, surprised eyes his way. She'd never heard him sing before. Her reaction was the perfect compensation for the extra time he'd put in to the project.

She grinned wide as the men joined in on the last line, and Ranger was helpless to keep his lips from crashing into hers as a way of carrying the overall message of the presentation home. "Love you, Babe," he whispered as the men cheered and wolf whistled around them.

"We love you too, Bomber!" one of the men called out, and Ranger cut a glare in his direction, the threat thinly veiled: They better hadn't love her the same way he did, or there'd be serious consequences.

The End For Reals This Time!