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The awkward mood surrounding the bunny was palpable. One of Beanie's S&S groups invited her to hang out and stood her up. She silently tried to drown herself with her drink while you and Rackham sat there twiddling your thumbs.
"So…" Yeah, you're not quite sure how to broach the topic. Beanie looks like she's one wrong comment away from a meltdown, and you have a track record of putting your foot in your mouth. Thankfully, Rackham does it for you.
"I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. Maybe they… went to the wrong bar?" Smooth.
Beanie leans back into her barstool and lets out a long groan.
"Yeah, sure, and they also forgot to message the person they're supposed to meet." She drawls, taking another sip of her booze before throwing him a dirty look. "You're a real genius, Foxy."
Seeing Rackham shrink into his seat, she faceplants onto the bar. "Sorry…"
You give her a test pat on the back. "Come on, the night's still young. Why don't we head back to the apartment?" You reason, hoping tonight won’t end badly, “We can get some snacks and see who we can wrangle up to play a party game or something."
“Not that stupid one with all the mini games though,” Rackham adds VERY unhelpfully.
Her response is to start violently scratching her headfur. Just as you move to stop her, she suddenly sits up straight and slams her hands down.
"Barkeep! Six shots of your cheapest vodka!" The lilac rabbit shouts way too loudly for the casual bar. Rackham's turned around so as not to be associated. The canine (coyote? You're still not good at this) rolls her eyes and prepares the shots before us.
"You don't need all that." You grab Beanie's sleeve, trying to coax her to stand up. "Let's close your tab and get out of here."
She jabs your chest as you try to guide her. "They're not for me, ya dip." She slurs, pushing half of the plastic cups towards Rackham and the other three towards you. "I came here to enjoy myself, so we are going to get drunk, play some overpriced arcade games, and have some fun!"
The rat couple beside us give a little cheer, and Beanie chugs her cocktail in one go.
Rackham plays with the small plastic shot glass like it's poisonous, and since she ordered bottom-shelf booze, it probably is. "… I'm more of a rum guy,"
"DRINK!" she egged him on, taking one of the shots for herself and downing it like it was water.
You watch Rackham obediently gag down the hooch. You feel bad for the guy. He’s just skin in bones, and you know the booze is going to hit him like a truck. Turning your attention to your own beverage, you wonder if this is a good idea. Last time you drank ended with you yacking all over the floor and in bed with Cheeky…
Wow, that sounded bad even to you. You can think about the consequences later, you're drinking for Beanie tonight.
“Well, bottoms up.” You raise your drink to nobody in particular and, against your better judgment, force it down.
"You suck!" You bellow, taunting Beanie and making her fumble the roll. You’ve done it twice now so you’re already braced when she slugs your shoulder. Rackham’s nursing his own punched arm. He’s a lot smarter than you. He learned the first time.
"Fuck you!" She cackles, putting the ball into your hand. "If you're so confident, why don't YOU show us how it's done!"
You take the weighty plastic ball in your hand and toss it in the air, easily catching it.
"Hey, Beanie, wanna make things interesting?" Rackham gives you an exaggerated wink. "If Mike can't get more than a measly hundred-fifty points, you buy the next round."
"You're on, you pirate wannabe!" Beanie gives him a devilish smile and turns to you, "Hear that chunky monkey? Foxy's buying the next round, and I'm thinking Johnson Jogger Blue for everyone."
You snort as you see his eye go comically wide. He moves beside you, rubbing your shoulder with his good arm. You didn't realize how much tension you had in your shoulders until they dissipated under Rackham's touch.
"Listen, Mikey. I don't want to spend money, so loosen up, aim, and throw."
You want to be smart, but he might stop rubbing. Better to air on the side of caution.
"If I get us the next round, you have to give me a real massage." You hear the rabbit sniggering behind the two of you. "You're almost as good as Mangle."
"Mike, if you do this, I will give you as many back rubs as you want. Get to it!" He agrees, seeming a little too excited at the prospect of beating Beanie. You silently apologize to the little bunny, but you know the trick to this game.
You plant your left knee against the machine's left side, narrow your eyes, and toss it. It hits the rim of the forty-point hole. You ignore the jeering from the peanut gallery, adjust your focus further up, and try again. Sinking the fifty. Beanie goes quiet as you sink ball after ball until you rack up an impressive 320.
“Beginner’s luck,” you say in the most smarmy tone possible
Beanie slumps into her chair swearing and groaning as Rackham bounces around in celebration.
"OOOooo! SUCK IT, BONITA!" The fox roars, throwing his arm around you. "I will have a Rum and Cola, and the skeeball master will have…."
"I was promised a backrub, but I'll take a lemon drop too." You buff your nails on your shirt and give the defeated Beanie a smug look.
"Should have guessed you were great at handling balls, Mike," Beanie complains as she gets up.
You're about to snark back, but Rackham beats you to it. "You're damn right he is! Mike, The Master of Balls, demands the utmost respect!"
You roll your eyes. Should’ve known Rackham would betray you the second he got his booze. You are now the ball master and must wear the title with pride.
You yelp as you're suddenly yanked backward out of nowhere.
"Don't walk in front of the dartboards, dumbass!"
Alcohol and decentralization do not equal standing up straight. Your amazing friend Beanie laughs as you tumble backward onto the fox.
"I guess I should be lucky you've been losing weight." He tries getting you off, but with only one arm to push, you can lay comfortably on your new furry mattress. At least until you the room stops spinning.
"I don't think you would have survived Mike at full power. Though, he’s still a chunky monkey." Beanie chitters, enjoying the show AND attacking your weight. You should have ordered a more expensive drink.
"Yeah, I wouldn't survive your fat ass on me."
Ball Master Mike will not tolerate this slander.
"What about your fat ass on me?!"
Ball Master Mike's ability to quip rapidly declines as BAC rises past 0.1. Rackham is wearing a weird expression. But before you can comment on it, Beanie lands a rude kick on your side.
"C'mon! We just need 50 more tickets before we can get a free burger!" She says as she keeps tapping you with her foot. "Momma needs her some grease."
You sigh as you roll off the fox. He must be comfortable because he continues lying there motionless.
"What do ya mean by 'we'? Are we going to share a little bar burger?" You put your hand out to Rackham, who takes it hesitantly.
"No, I'm going to eat the burger, and you two can have the fries. Isn't that the chivalrous thing to do?" She tries narrowing her eyes at you, but she's too drunk, so she just looks constipated. You bite your tongue to stop yourself from busting a gut.
"Chivalry's dead. Earn your own food," you manage to get out if slurred, "... Scrub!" Beanie is not impressed. You're sure that if you had a few more minutes, you could have hit her with a real zinger. Beanie grabs your hand, leading you back to the money-maker games. But you realize you can redeem yourself. "Oh, Beanie! I didn't know you felt that way about me! What will Bonworth think!"
Perfect.
"I don't think he's going to be worried the way you're holding Foxy's hand." She deadpans, confusing you.
What?
You look at your other hand, and you are, in fact, still holding Rackham's hand. Looking at his face, you see he's very flushed and quietly staring at you with his sleepy eye. You're not entirely sure when your fingers intertwine with his, but you shrug. Not important. Commit to the bit.
"Is there something wrong with two guys holding hands, Beanie?" She snorts at your accusing tone and leads you and Rackham to a table. You’re not going to say no to sitting on your ass, and sit down.
"I'm going to earn some more tickets and get us food. Mike, you're wasted. Stay here. Foxy, make sure Mike doesn't kill himself." You scoff, you wouldn’t get yourself killed, probably. You do have a habit of getting messed up. Rackham gives her a hooked salute and she finally wanders off.
"And then there were two," Rackham says, looking everywhere but at you. You’re confused until he fake coughs and pulls his hand. "You, uh, don't have to keep holding my hand."
You smirk and lean on the table, trying to look smug but knowing you're failing. "Is there something wrong with two guys holding hands, Rackham?"
The fox laughs, and you're pleased that you got the reaction you were looking for.
"You're an idiot," He says, still chuckling.
"You mean a funny idiot" You poke his chest jokingly, but you end up dragging it around because you're too drunk to aim correctly. Beanie was right -you really are wasted. Wasted enough to keep stroking Rackham’s chest fur. Holy shit this guy’s softer than Bonnibel.
“You, er, enjoying yourself there, Mike?” You hum an affirmative as you continue exploring his fur, moving his button up around to feel. There are patches of bare skin where the acid permanently left his skin uncovered. He risked his life for Goose. Hell, the guy risked his life for a lot of people, you included. He might be a grump and a closet pervert, but he’s a good guy. Your hand slips and brushes a bit of naturally bare skin, making you blush.
“Sorry…” you mumble as you lean back into your chair, hoping he didn’t notice.
You barely catch Rackham saying, "Screw it," before he kisses you, catching you completely off guard. You can taste coke on his muzzle… wait, that doesn't exist anymore. It's just cola. That doesn't matter because Rackham is kissing you!
"Rack-mmm!" The second you open your mouth, the fox jumps at the opportunity and licks the inside of your mouth, tickling your hard palate. It's a laugh that leaves your throat! Not a moan You're not gay. It's just… been a while since you made out with someone, and it's normal to enjoy intimacy.
As you flounder around, searching for a logical reason to be enjoying this, his hook leans against the back of your chair, and his hand is around your head, pulling you in for a deeper kiss.
Rackham withdraws his tongue from your mouth, leaving a long string of drool that connects your mouths. He obviously doesn't care because he plants more little kisses down your neck and collarbone, nipping gentle at you. You let out a strained exhale, trying your best to stay quiet. The whole bar doesn’t need to hear you.
Trying to focus away on something other than the funny business in your pants, you focus on something else. That turns out to be Rackham’s nose, you weren't expecting it to be cold like a dog's. Suddenly, it makes you wonder what other similarities there are. You raise your arm and start slowly scratching his scalp and behind his ears, eliciting a… whine? It must be a good whine because he returns to kissing you directly. Not the sloppy kisses like before, but little, gentle pecks.
You pull away from the fox. You can feel your cheeks flushing with… something. You can see something mischievous in Rackham's eye. You're not sure what look you're giving off, but it must be inviting because he's going in for another kiss.
"Get it, Foxy"
You both stop your… not-so-platonic saliva-swapping and swivel your heads to look at the commentator. Beanie's looking amused as she eats a fry from a suspiciously small pile.
Rackham's ears are back, and he looks… bashful?
"Oh, you're back. I wasn't expecting you to be back so soon."
Before you can say anything, Beanie sits directly in front of you, adding to the already awkward situation.
"The bartender says if you two don't chill out, the bouncer will kick us out." She pushes half a sandwich and a meager number of fries toward you two. "I asked them to close out our tabs, so if you guys want to head back and bang, we can go."
You sputter at her bluntness, waiting for her to laugh, but she looks completely serious. You look at Foxy for some backup, but he's shoveling food into his mouth. So he doesn't have to talk, or so he doesn't have to pay for the ride, you're not sure. Thanks, dick!
You take out your work phone.
"Guess I'll call a cab.”
By the time you’re in your ride, you feel the effects of alcohol easing up a bit. Rackham sits beside you but seems to be purposely ignoring you. He's probably reeling as much as you are from the kiss, you reason. It's awkward and embarrassing, but you try to avoid addressing it.
You catch Beanie's goofy grin in the driver's rearview mirror. You almost forgot that this all started because she got stood up. At least she had a good time, and you admit you enjoyed yourself too. Maybe a little too much.
Your vibrating phone pulls you from your thoughts. Opening it, it reads: do something or he's gonna think it was nothing. It's Beanie. You look at her, and she nods her head toward Rackham.
But it was nothing, wasn't it? You're not oblivious like everyone jokes you are. You know that a few people are at least a little interested in you, but you never felt anything from Rackham before. You know he's interested in Chichi to the point of obsession! He can't like you!
You rub your face in frustration, wishing people would just say what's on their minds. You drop your hands, and before you can think of an excuse to forget the whole thing, you realize that your hand landed on Rackham's. Your heart leaps into your throat, but he takes it into his own before you can retract your hand.
Oh.
You have your answer. You squeeze Rackham's hand, and he squeezes yours.