Ram-bling affair.
This didn't make sense.
Remmy knew that!
And of course he should have listened to his inner voice, even if it had been wrong every time before.
The more rational part of his brain corrected himself.
It had always said 'this is normal, this is not normal' and had, more often than not, been completely wrong.
Okay, not exactly completely wrong, more…
-out of date.
Unacclimatised.
Ignorant to the ways of the pack.
He could ramble on, again. -Okay Remmy, straight to the point, his brain had always told him 'this is not normal/ this is normal' before and, more often than not, got it completely wrong.
But, to the point of the matter, it had never been wrong when telling himself 'this is a stupid idea'. Usually, it let stupid ideas slip through, so if it was actually catching one, flagging it up, telling him to stop…
Then he should stop!
Except he wasn't going to, was he?
Oh no…
That had long since passed. After all, he had the flowers in one hoof, canine safe chocolates in the other and two feet standing, rooted, to the floor.
He could still back out now, he told himself.
He could still back out now, and he was already knocking the door, but that first point still counted and…
It cracked open and a weasel looked out, Remmy instantly knowing that he was an idiot.
Too late now.
"Oh, hello! Are those for me?"
He blinked. Oh thank god, it wasn't that one. "Um, hi Martina…" he began, only to be cut off.
"Are those for me?"
No, Marty would have been better! He was used to aggressively defensive protective snark, which would probably be way thicker now when it inevitably came in the evening. That was part of the deal! But romantic misunderstanding, no way!
"Those ARE for me!" she giggled, little paws tuckering up into her chest.
"Actually…" Remmy began, and he supposed he should be happy that it was that easy, though the instantly shattered joy on her face made that quite hard in the moment.
"Oh…" she sniffed, looking away. "I… I thought…"
"I'm…" he began, but no, she was going to lay this on.
"Just thought a nice man would be coming and…" sniff, "Even has my favourite flowers and…" sniff, "Take more care not to break poor girls' hearts…"
He raised a hoof. "I didn't know you were in," he said, and oh was that a cop out. -True, absolutely, but that also applied to being a cop out.
"The library closed early today," she moaned, "and I thought I'd…"
And now he was wincing. Dammit, how long until Marty came back. Heck, he could already be in there, in another room, waiting like a sea mine to explode. Or already listening in, just inconvenienced for now. Either way, panic time!
"Is Charlie in?"
…
"Charlie!" she called, and then silence.
Silence, awkward silence.
And now Remmy knew this was going to be an embarrassing mistake. No romantic gesture, nothing to break this ice, no element of surprise to push through the fact that there were zero rational reasons to be doing this. Just him, standing at the door, chocolate and flowers in hooves as he stared down at another girl… -and she was going to think that he was perving on her wasn't he and here she came!
Sandy furred head, existence of eyes debatable, existence of overly thick jumper confirmed. Droopy ears and droopy tail and nothing that would endear her to anyone, yet…
"Hi," he croaked, holding them up. "For you…"
And she silently walked over and took the chocolates.
"I was thinking," he croaked again, only to receive a paw up in his face.
"Focussing," she said, as she read the ingredient list.
"They're canine safe," he happily announced.
"Small print," she mumbled. A claw came out as she began to trace down, line by line by line…
Was this her trolling him?
It had to be!
After all, there was a big mark at the top, 'canine safe' complete with a green tick!
But no, she kept on reading and he just stood there, stuck in awkwardness.
Maybe she had an allergy or something, or… -She was nodding, she liked them! She liked them, and…
"Now the flowers," she said, and he handed them over.
She took a sniff.
No expression or change, and then…
"Thanks," she said, as if I'd picked up her mail from the floor. She turned and walked away.
…
"I think she likes you!" Martina chirped.
Oh, she was either very sarcastic or very dumb or just hated his guts now.
Probably all three.
Okay, maybe Charlie was going to come back, and…
.
.
…
She wasn't coming back.
Remmy ended the awkward silent standoff and walked off.
"Oh, bye Remmy!"
"Bye Martina," he groaned.
She was rubbing it in.
She was so rubbing it in.
.
.
.
Beer was good.
Beer was very good.
Thank-you being able to buy at age 18, not 21 back in the sticks, because he needed this.
Again, for no reason.
No rational reason at least.
Would she hold it over her? No. Would Marty? Once he heard, yes, but that was no different to before, was it? And it was a stupid idea to begin with, so he should have expected this, so there was no reason to be reaching over to get another one, hoof on the pull and the fizz coming out, telling him 'here I am. Drown your sorrows in me.'
"Are you gonna leave any of those for me?"
Had he been drinking it, it'd be sprayed across the wall. As it turned out, a good splash hit it anyway as Remmy jumped up before turning.
And there she was.
Except it wasn't her.
Well, it was.
But it wasn't. Because Charlie didn't have wide open eyes, moon pool blue irisis resting inside. She didn't have that flowing blonde hair. Not normally. Not since that one time. And not that he didn't want her before, but…
And she smiled, and wiped something from her eye, and held out the flowers and chocolates.
"T-thanks," she said, choking up just a little bit.
And Remmy couldn't help but smile too. "What was that… at the door?"
"Keeping up appearances," she said.
Speaking of doors… "I thought I changed the locks since last time you… And I had a bar, too."
She looked just a bit bashful. "Whoever said anything about doors."
He should have been disturbed, but maybe he'd just built up a tolerance after all this.
Maybe that explained everything.
"This is nice," he said, softly, a hoof coming up and softly stroking her wig, before realising what it was. So instead, he stroked the side of her head.
"No," she said, whispering. "The hair, please."
And his eyes widened. "I love this, but it's not all I want," he said, just trying to make sure she knew. "I love the real you."
"This is the real me," she said back, as she began crawling up him, claws hooking on wool as she burrowed up under his shirt and let her head pop out the top.
Nose to nose.
Muzzle to muzzle.
Lip to lip…
"Then who is the you I see everyday?" he asked.
"Who I pretend to be," she said softly.
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to be a target… not again. Never again."
And part of him wanted to know, but the rest basically figured it out. Enough, anyway.
"So this is the true you?"
"Always has been."
"Even the wig?" he couldn't help but ask. "Or did you once have real hair?"
"Before the CO's cut it all when I was seventeen," she said, glancing away. "After I got out, I found things were easier." She glanced away. "Just another looks-the-same fox, harder for the witnesses to pin me."
He looked down. "That's a shame."
"I've never been caught since. Never a lot of things since."
"Do you see that ever changing," he asks.
"Who knows," she says, pausing. "The things we do for love."
And he nodded back. "The things we…"
And she kissed and she kissed back. Long and hot and incompatible but brute forced through anyway until it very much worked.
She broke off, their eyes met.
"Bring me back, Remmy."
"Make me a ram, Charlie."
"Make me a vixen," she said, kissing back on his nose.
And so they did.
It all didn't make sense.
But for the fact that it did.