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Fox was having a perfectly enjoyable evening.
During the day, he and Wolf had perfectly prepared another one of his ingenious plans to capture that dastardly rabbit. It surely would have been perfectly executed as well, had the aforementioned rabbit bothered to show up, but such small details didn’t really matter - he’d be caught tomorrow, or the day after that, or… Well, it would be soon, that much was certain.
After a lovely dinner (pescatarian, of course - he was saving his appetite for red meat for Rabbit’s capture), Fox had lounged around on his couch watching his programmes for an hour or two. Eventually, he’d showered and changed into his dressing gown, then prepared a pot of chamomile for his late-night routine of sit-in-bed-and-read. Admittedly, the television had captured his attention for longer than usual, so by the time he actually got into bed, it was really nearing the early hours of the morning… Oh, well. Fox found that he couldn’t quite care.
Almost the second after he’d settled himself comfortably into bed and flipped open his novel, he felt his ear twitch as a faint rustling sounded from below his bedroom window.
Fox sighed.
Somebody was in his garden. Lordy, didn’t that fool have anything better to do? Surely such a paranoid individual wouldn’t leave his children unaccompanied at night with a wolf living next door! Granted, said wolf wasn’t particularly threatening when Fox wasn’t there to command him, but why take the risk?
Well, Fox wasn’t about to complain. He snapped the book shut and stalked over to his window. If Rabbit wanted to serve himself up on a silver platter, so be it.
When he looked down at the garden, Fox was surprised at the lack of sneaking around he saw from Rabbit. Well, the lack of co-ordination at all, really. The scrawny herbivore was stumbling around the cabbage patch like a drunkard.
Hm. He hadn’t thought Rabbit was much of a drinker. Well, Fox supposed, given Rabbit’s overconfident nature, it was entirely possible that he’d simply overestimated his alcohol tolerance. Or perhaps he’d eaten a particularly old batch of leftovers. Hopefully, he’d made a poor (fatal?) judgement while foraging - although, on second thoughts, Fox preferred his meals to be non-toxic. He’d have to waste so many perfectly good organs if poison really was the cause for death, and-
Fox’s train of thought was cut off when he heard a resounding thud coming from below him. He glanced down, and was unsurprised to see the varmint laying beside his cabbage patch, unmoving.
Fox sighed again. As… nice as it would be if that rabbit had finally kicked the bucket, he couldn’t help but think this wasn’t the case. And, really, it was never a wise idea to eat someone when you weren’t sure of their cause of death.
So, with a heavy heart, Fox decided to go outside and investigate.
He strode down the stairs, still in his dressing gown, and slid on his spare pair of slippers at the front door (obviously he wasn’t risking his bedroom pair getting muddy). All of a sudden feeling slightly irritated at the unexpected interruption, Fox slammed the door open, and stepped outside. Rabbit didn’t even flinch at the sound.
Ooh! Maybe he was done for after all!
…Fox couldn’t bring himself to be happy about that. It wouldn’t count if he wasn’t the one to take Rabbit down after all these years, he argued internally. A familiar voice in his head attempted to chime in, but Fox shook his head in hopes of silencing it and hastily walked over to where Rabbit lay.
The herbivore’s eyes were open and unfocused, and he was lying flat on his back besides the cabbages, no longer even attempting to grab them. If Fox couldn’t see his chest moving, he might have assumed Rabbit had perished.
Fox cleared his throat, peering down at the blank face that seemed to be looking past his own.
“Well,” he began, “if you were so desperate to be eaten, my dear, you could have had the grace to come by before midnight. I was beginning to settle down for the night.”
Rabbit blinked slowly, like he wasn’t entirely aware of where he’d ended up.
“I mean, really,” Fox continued at the lack of response, “I didn’t realise you were such a dipsomaniac, although it would explain some things. Alcohol ruins the taste of one’s liver. Be a bit more considerate towards us poor predators.”
Rabbit shuffled his arms back slightly to support himself and made a tragic attempt at getting up. He managed to prop himself up on his elbows, but when he lifted his head, it lolled around like a bobble-headed doll. The idiot promptly collapsed again.
“Goodness, not even clear-headed enough to respond? It’s like you’re asking for it!” Fox snickered.
At this, Rabbit finally opened his mouth to speak. “‘m not a dips… a drunk, you twat.”
Fox blinked, and a grin began to spread across his face. “Ooh, a bit sensitive tonight, are we? Well, don’t worry, I’m more than happy to put your suffering to an end.”
He ran his tongue over his teeth to prove his point, and at this, Rabbit’s instincts seemed to finally kick in. He unsteadily got to his feet (Fox stepped out of stumbling range for this, taking great pleasure at the sight of the thorn in his side struggling to stand upright), and looked around slowly. He caught sight of the cabbages once again, and leant down to grab one, swiping half-heartedly at the patch.
Fox actually snorted as Rabbit staggered forwards once again, but when it looked like he was actually going to fall onto Fox’s prized cabbages, he quickly yanked the long-eared man back by the collar of his shirt. He graciously decided to keep his grip on Rabbit’s shirt, should he decide to take another tumble towards any more of Fox’s crops.
“Okay, look, you’re not particularly appetizing at the moment. Go home.” Fox said disdainfully, then smiled. “You never know when a fox might decide to go for some fresher meat. I mean, I’m sure your children won’t have foul-tasting livers at the moment, and considering you’re not home to help them…”
A brief look of panic crossed Rabbit’s face, but it faded back into his current state of… Well, whatever this was. Befuddlement, perhaps. He seemed rather distant from the world, considering his lack of terror at Fox’s threats.
“They’re at, uh,” Rabbit thought for a second before continuing, words slightly slurred, “Terrapin’s.”
“Wonderful!” Fox exclaimed sarcastically. “Now I know just where to go for some lovely rabbit stew.”
Rabbit reached out an arm, and his paw slid pathetically over Fox’s shoulder for a second before falling back to his side. Fox pulled a face. Was that supposed to be a punch? He made a show of brushing imaginary germs off his shoulder with his free paw.
“Rabbit, I’m not going to repeat myself. My patience is wearing thin. Go home.”
Rabbit’s eyes seemed to stare right through him. He shook his head slowly, stumbling slightly at the motion. He was lucky Fox didn’t let go of his collar.
“What? Are you that desperate to be my meal?” Fox squinted at him. “You know, it’s not good for one’s blood sugar to eat so late at night. Come back in twelve hours.”
Rabbit shook his head again. “Don’t… I’m not going. I’ll sleep here.”
“Next to my crops?” Fox was appalled. “I think not! I’ll drag you out of here if I must, although I will admit, I’m almost impressed you even managed to make it to my garden in this state.”
“I wanted to… to get something fresh for the kids, tomorrow.”
Fox didn’t even bother humouring that with a response. He internally calculated that if he had to physically drag Rabbit back to his house, it’d be at least half an hour’s walk, and that was a very optimistic guess. Not ideal for twelve in the morning, but Fox supposed he could always do to get the extra steps in - after all, he wasn’t about to risk Rabbit throwing up in his precious car.
Actually, he wasn’t sure why he was even bothering with any of this. Certainly, he could just leave the fool a few dozen meters from his house and he still wouldn’t be able to make it back to the cabbages in this state. Why put in the extra effort?
Fox attempted to drag Rabbit away by the collar, but considering the other’s inability to walk in a straight line (or at all, really), this turned out to be quite the task. Well, no matter. He managed, after a few minutes, to get Rabbit to a random tree a hundred or so meters away from his house - just enough that Rabbit wouldn’t be able to see the path back to his garden - and let go of him.
He watched as the herbivore staggered from side to side before eventually collapsing against the tree. Fox let out a cruel laugh, ignoring the slight pang of something in his chest.
If he was anything like his mother, Fox was sure his heart had long since shriveled up and died, so he was clearly having indigestion of sorts. Probably from the lack of red meat.
Without turning back once, he left Rabbit lying there, and strutted towards his house. Ha. The poor fool was probably shivering in the crisp autumn-night air with his tragically short fur. He must have been so confused! One didn’t get so drunk they couldn’t walk straight and remember the night’s events - for all Fox knew, Rabbit was probably wondering how he’d gotten to that tree, or where he was at all! Oh, how hilarious!
Maybe he thought he’d finally been caught in one of Fox’s traps, and was waiting for his demise. In fact, he surely thought Fox would be returning with a bone saw or whatever savage tools Rabbit assumed carnivores used, the uncultured fool. Ah, and of course he’d think Wolf would be coming, what with his phobia of wolves and all - not that Fox could really blame him for that. Watching your wife be eaten couldn’t be pleasant. Body and mind betraying him in his inebriated state, ruining any chance at escape he felt he may have… Rabbit must be terrified!
…Hm.
Fox’s indigestion was acting up.
It was quite bad, actually. It was like he was being tugged back towards Rabbit. He didn’t think it had been that long since he’d last had red meat, but he supposed it had been a while. A shame, really, that he’d resolved not to eat him tonight.
When Fox approached his front door, he chewed at the inside of his lip, and hesitated as he reached towards the door handle. It would be a waste if Rabbit died of, say, hypothermia overnight. He didn’t have Fox’s luxurious fur, after all, and a weakened mental state would surely make him more susceptible…
Fox gritted his teeth, and before he knew it, he was speed-walking back to where he’d left Rabbit lying in the dark forest. Curse his insatiable hunger for flesh! He could be comfortably in bed right now, but no! He just couldn’t stomach frozen rabbit!
Sure enough, when he returned, Rabbit was still slumped against the tree, shivering. He didn’t seem overly terrified, though. More…
…Was he sniffing? Oh, God, surely he hadn’t already caught a cold?
“Get up, you fool.” Fox snapped. “You’re going home.”
At the sound of Fox’s voice, Rabbit’s head jerked up. He rubbed an arm across his face clumsily, smearing snot on his fur. Fox wanted desperately to wipe it away with his handkerchief - the sight was incredibly off-putting - but managed to restrain himself. It was a struggle, truly, because the rabbit looked a mess.
…Ah, screw it. If he was going to be stuck walking with him for the better part of an hour, he wasn’t going to look at Rabbit’s snotty face. Fox crouched down and scrubbed roughly at the fur on Rabbit’s cheek, then decided that he didn’t actually want to carry the used handkerchief, so shoved it temporarily into the pocket of Rabbit’s hideously patterned button-up shirt.
“Up, Rabbit. I’m not saying it again.” Fox said snippily.
Rabbit stumbled to his feet, waving his arms around for balance and stumbling aimlessly until Fox decided to bite the bullet. He wanted this to be over as quickly as possible so he could get his beauty rest and continue scheming, and if that meant… physical contact… (he shuddered at the thought) then so be it. Fox reluctantly put an arm around Rabbit’s back, hoisting him up properly and holding him stable.
Rabbit glanced around drowsily, and when his eyes landed on Fox, he had the gall to look surprised. Actually, now that Fox got a closer look at him, he could see that the scrawny man’s eyes were glossy and red - it clearly hadn’t been a cold that was making him sniff, then. Hah! Served him right for being so obnoxious.
Fox began to walk slowly, and felt an arm fall carelessly over his shoulders. He flinched at the unexpected contact, posture habitually correcting itself, but quickly regained his composure and continued walking.
“I don’t… I’m not normally a drinker, you know?” An irritating voice rang out next to Fox after a few minutes of walking in silence.
Fox scoffed. “Well, I wouldn’t assume so, considering you have three children to take care of. Imagine the image they’d have of you if you came home to them like this!”
Rabbit sighed. “It’s… Terrapin’s got them. I just…”
He trailed off. Fox felt his curiosity flare up, but didn’t prod for answers. He couldn’t have Rabbit thinking he actually cared - although it could be a good way to trap him, Fox doubted it’d work when he inevitably sobered up.
And so they continued to walk in silence.
Well, ‘walk’ was quite a broad term. Perhaps too generous for what this was. It felt almost like the three-legged race the two had been forced to do together in primary school, Fox thought dryly.
…He’d forgotten about that.
Thinking back on it, it was a miracle there were no major injuries that day, because the two certainly shouldn’t have been paired up. Seriously, predator and prey, forced to be tied together? Fox could’ve eaten him then and there! The teachers were lucky he was raised properly, considering most other predators at that age wouldn’t have had Fox’s self restraint - not back in those days, anyway. His mother had always taught him that any predator worth their salt knew not to be caught in the act.
There’d certainly be nobody to catch him now. Fox wondered why he wasn’t feeling his usual urge to catch the rabbit and devour him whole. Of course, the smell of cheap ale wasn’t exactly appetizing, but…
He sniffed. Unsurprisingly, Rabbit still smelled good enough to eat. Cheap ale and men’s deodorant weren’t enough to overpower that constant, near-intoxicating scent of his. Flesh and blood and all those delicous things, naturally, but even just his fur was…
Fox shuddered. One taste, and he was sure he’d be satisfied for life. He’d never wanted to consume anyone - anything - so badly.
He inhaled again. Perhaps he was taking slight advantage of their unusually close proximity. Sue him. It wasn’t exactly a situation they’d be in again.
“Are you sniffing me?” Rabbit asked, sounding awfully suspicious considering he absolutely wasn’t going to remember any of this.
Fox shrugged. “I’m appraising tomorrow’s dinner, my dear. All this walking has worked up an appetite.”
Rabbit scoffed, then hiccuped. “Yeah, right. You’re not even…”
He trailed off, leaving Fox wondering once again what he had been going to say. For Christ’s sake, couldn’t the man finish a sentence!? Fox rolled his eyes, and focused on trudging on.
He did still want to eat Rabbit whole, he decided.
Oh, yes. Of course, when he finally managed it, it wouldn’t be without a fight. He’d imagined it hundreds of times. Although the exact details often varied, the general idea was that Rabbit would fall for a trap - obviously. And then Wolf would be so happy with their success that he’d leave the rest to Fox, at which point Rabbit, seeing that his biggest physical threat had left, would try to make his great escape. Fox would (naturally) outsmart his attempt at escaping, and they’d have a great battle of wits - Rabbit had always been one of the few whose craftiness had nearly matched Fox’s own, that much he could admit, so the battle would be great. Fox would win, of course, but Rabbit wouldn’t be done just like that. No.
At that point, Rabbit, feeling the pressure, would resort to physical violence. Now, considering Fox worked to keep his physique so perfect while all Rabbit did was dart around, Rabbit would know this was a losing battle, but it wouldn’t stop him from pulling out all the stops. Kicking, scratching, biting… No, Fox certainly wouldn’t come out of their scuffle unharmed. Ultimately, though, Fox would manage to pin him down underneath him. They’d both be exhausted, but Fox’s exhaustion would be victorious, and Rabbit’s… Well, the fool never knew when to give up. He’d still be making some snarky comment in his final moments, and then Fox would lean down from his position on top of him and sink his teeth into that oh-so-inviting neck of his.
And so on and so forth. Look, Fox obviously wasn’t going to eat him just like that - he’d savour every last piece, and cook him to perfection, sharing the less palatable cuts with Wolf and his sons - but it was how he’d deliver the killing blow. Hot blood rushing through Fox’s mouth, teeth sunk through that wonderfully scented fur, Rabbit squirming below him… Oh, it was perfect.
His heart was pounding in his chest just thinking about it.
Yes, it would be perfect, when the day came.
…But that clearly wasn’t today. Or, this very minute, anyway. Rabbit was in no position to pose a challenge, and what would be the point in finally taking him down if it didn’t even count? Fox knew he’d never be satisfied until it played out just how he’d imagined. For now, he’d have to settle for this, he decided.
His thoughts were interrupted when a head unceremoniously rested itself on his right shoulder, long ears tickling the nape of his neck. Fox felt his fur stand on end, and fought back another shudder.
“Rabbit,” he began, voice low, “you do realise who you’re walking with?”
Rabbit hummed noncommittally into Fox’s fur. The feeling sent a shiver down his spine, and his heart began to beat even faster. He wanted him so badly.
“I could eat you, you know.” Fox continued. He was struggling to keep his breathing steady. “One bite of your neck and you’d be gone. You’ve even left it exposed for me.”
Rabbit murmured something into Fox’s fur. Fox felt his pulse become erratic, exhilaration verging on something a lot more dangerous, and shoved Rabbit’s head away. He kept his arm around him to steady the drunken herbivore, but Fox didn’t think he could stand any more of that sensation, it was just-
God.
“What was that?” He asked after taking a moment to compose himself, with as much irritation as he could muster. “I couldn’t hear you through my own fur.”
“I said,” Rabbit paused at the volume of his own voice, “you wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t- not tonight.”
“Oh? You place a lot of hope in moral values I may or may not have, Rabbit. Why, pray tell, wouldn’t I?”
“It- it’s that night again.” Rabbit’s voice was thick when he replied. “Seven years now.”
Well, shit.
“Oh.”
Fox glanced over at his foe. He watched as Rabbit gulped a few times, trying to swallow a lump in his throat that he knew wouldn’t disappear just like that, and blinked vigorously at the treetops.
“Shouldn’t you be with Terrapin?” He asked cautiously.
Look, Fox may have planned the man’s demise countless times, but he didn’t actually want to dredge up his most traumatic memories and stomp on them. It would be a waste of time, really. He knew what loss could do to a person.
“I couldn’t, Fox.” Rabbit choked on a sob. Damn it, Fox thought, he really wished the other man hadn’t drunk so much. This was turning out to be quite the awkward situation. “It’s- I needed the kids away from the wolves, just for tonight. I need… I had to… time to myself.”
“Well, that’s going swimmingly, considering you’re stuck to my side like a limpet right now.”
“You’re not… you don’t pity people.” Rabbit slurred. “Do you know,”
“Oh, God,” Fox muttered under his breath,
“Nobody in this- this bloody town remembers her. Not properly.” Rabbit swayed dramatically as he walked, and Fox had to lean uncomfortably to his left to remain upright. “Well, Terrapin does. But those sheep, they all just… They bleat about how tragic it was, but all they do is… talk amongst themselves. She was just my wife to them. She wasn’t… They…”
He spat hatefully onto the grass. Fox grimaced.
“It makes me sick. More than anything. More than- more than you.”
Wow. Fox was practically weak in the knees. When Rabbit didn’t continue, Fox glanced over at him. The other man was squinting at him already, searching his face for who knew what.
“Fox, you remember her, don’t you?” He blurted.
Oh, no. Fox didn’t want to be dragged into this. Maybe if he didn’t respond, Rabbit would forget he’d ever asked.
“You do.” Rabbit continued, sounding suddenly a lot more confident. “You knew her, back in high school. You two- you were, uh… God, was it English? You were partners for that… that thing. I was- Hah! I was almost green with envy!”
Fox continued walking. Surely Rabbit would tire himself out soon.
“You know, she once told me… She said she liked being your partner, because you understood the text like she did. I said something about that being stupid, but that was all because of how jealous I was of you, you know?” Rabbit let out something between a laugh and a sob. “Then, years later, she said… she’d always loved when I got jealous, because of how silly I was. I acted like an idiot, and she loved me for it.”
Fox stared at the ground.
“You remember her, Fox,” he insisted, “you do, don’t you?”
“A bit.” Fox replied faintly. “She was… bright, for a rabbit. I always did think she could have done better than you, though. All you had going for you was your overconfidence.”
Rabbit bit back another sob, yet he sounded almost gleeful when he spoke. “She could have, couldn’t she? She- she was-”
He cut himself off and buried his face in his paws, staggering away from Fox, body shaking.
Fox stood helplessly. Rabbit would bounce back from this, he knew, and Fox also knew that he certainly wouldn’t be any help here. It was best to wait these things out.
Rabbit soon collapsed by a tree, vaguely reminiscent of earlier in the night, except this time his head was buried in his knees and his body was wracked with sobs. Fox averted his eyes.
They remained like that for a good few minutes, Fox staring at the grass awkwardly as someone he planned to murder mourned the love of his life. What a ridiculous situation.
“It still doesn’t feel real.” Rabbit didn’t lift his head when he spoke, but his shoulders had stopped shaking. “She’s so… alive, in all the memories and- and the photos. It feels like she’s on a holiday.”
Fox hummed noncommittally, trying to ignore the awful feeling in his stomach.
“The kids deserve a mother. If I’d been braver, she wouldn’t have been the one to… They could have had one.”
Fox furrowed his brows, almost opening his mouth to speak, before thinking the better of it. The pit in his stomach continued to grow.
“One day, I will have spent more time missing her than I spent with her, and it still won’t feel real.”
Fox couldn’t take this anymore. It was…
Well, it was a pathetic display, and they had places to be. He walked over to Rabbit and hoisted him up by the arm.
Before he could sling Rabbit’s arm over his shoulders, however, the other man stepped so that he was in front of Fox. Rabbit’s head (once again) found its way onto Fox’s shoulder, and a pair of arms gripped his back weakly.
Er... That wasn’t what he’d expected, although perhaps he should have seen it coming considering Rabbit’s apparent state of emotional disarray. Fox pulled a face. He supposed he was lucky the other man wouldn’t remember any of this, because it was almost as embarrassing for Fox as it was for him. Fox hesitantly raised an arm and patted him on the back thrice, before prying him away and inspecting his dressing gown for snot (which he’d miraculously avoided).
He cleared his throat.
“All done?” Fox didn’t give Rabbit the chance to reply, repositioning his arm to support his scrawny foe better from the side. “Good, because we’re going. Only another twenty minutes or so.”
At some point during what remained of their trek, which was almost entirely silent, Rabbit must have begun to sober up slightly. He was almost able to walk (well, stagger from side to side with a stupidly large gait) without his knees completely giving out every few seconds.
When they began to approach Rabbit’s house, his steps halted. Fox looked to his right, and saw that Rabbit’s ears were pinned back against his head, and his eyes were wide.
“Don’t- I can’t go there.” He said, breathing faster than when Fox would chase him around his garden.
“Don’t be silly. You’re going to go to bed, and you’ll have forgotten this even happened in the morning. Move it.” Fox reprimanded.
“No, no, I’m- I’ll be all alone. She should be there.”
Oh, not this again. Everybody was alone, whether they liked it or not. Some animals just needed to grow up and deal with it. Fox began to drag Rabbit along beside him, arm still wrapped around his back.
“Fox, please. I’m scared.” Rabbit begged, clearly panicking now. If it weren’t for the exhausting (and rather humiliating for Fox) situation they were in, he would’ve laughed at the desperation in his voice.
“I’m walking you in. Pick up the pace, you fool.”
At this, Rabbit seemed to brighten slightly. “You’re going to stay with me?”
What the- who did he think he was!? Fox wasn’t pretending to be a nanny again! He wasn’t going to babysit a grown man!
…Oh, well. Misconceptions weren’t his problem. He decided to let Rabbit believe what he wanted, and they made it to the front door.
“Key.” Fox said, gesturing with his free paw for Rabbit to pass it to him.
Rabbit felt around in his pockets, and victoriously pulled out an old rusted thing, shoving it into Fox’s paw. Fox’s fur bristled at the contact. He hastily shoved it into the keyhole and opened the door.
…Well.
He didn’t know what he’d expected, but the house was the tidiest he’d seen it. All the surfaces were cleared of paper, and there was no baby food stuck to the table, no pencils on the floor, no anything.
“Went on a bit of a cleaning spree, then?”
Rabbit glanced around languidly, and shrugged. “Don’t remember.”
Fox sighed.
“Right, time for bed, come on,” he said, attempting to drag Rabbit towards his room.
Rabbit, clearly having had enough of walking, let his knees give in. Fox was left holding him upright with one arm. He cursed under his breath.
“For Christ’s sake, Rabbit.”
Fox hauled him towards his room, letting the varmint’s knees drag along the floor. After a long minute, he finally managed to hoist Rabbit onto the neatly made bed, and turned to leave.
Something brushed over his tail. Fox turned around, scandalised, ready to yell at the drunken fool that you don’t just touch a man’s tail, but didn’t get the chance to speak.
“Aren’t you… can’t you stay?”
Fox barked out a laugh. This could not be happening.
“You’re asking a predator to stay in your house while you sleep? It’s a miracle you’ve made it this far, Rabbit. Good heavens.”
Rabbit continued to stare hopefully.
“No.”
The other man seemed to deflate slightly. Fox, taking this as his queue to leave, made for the front door.
As he approached it, however, an almost inaudible sniffling made his ears twitch. Curse Fox’s superior hearing abilities. He scrunched his nose in disdain.
…Rabbit was probably still shivering in his bed. He might be more terrified than he was in the forest, really, if the way he was behaving earlier was anything to go off. Fox couldn’t care less. Rabbit was surely regretting his choices by now. Bear’s garden would’ve been the wiser option to attempt to drunkenly rob, because (much to Fox’s chagrin) the man was completely harmless. He would have stayed. The sniffling continued.
There was no risk of hypothermia now. Fox didn’t need to return. He didn’t.
…Well, Rabbit wasn’t going to remember this. Fox could surely brainstorm various ways to capture him best with a live model in front of him, he reasoned - it was really a mutually beneficial thing. And, if Rabbit died of alcohol poisoning it’d ruin the whole plan, so Fox grabbed a glass of water on his way back. He pointedly ignored the unwanted input in his head. She just didn’t understand.
“You- you’re back!” Rabbit exclaimed, once again wiping his face with his arm. Fox sighed, and placed the water on his bedside table.
“Sleep. Now.”
Rabbit immediately complied, pulling his duvet up and closing his eyes. Fox almost snorted. Could he have been more defenseless?
…Should Fox be taking advantage of this? It felt like such a waste not to, and yet…
No. No, he didn’t need to. If he didn’t truly outwit Rabbit, it wouldn’t be a satisfying meal. As Fox pondered, he noticed the herbivore’s breathing gradually grow steady, and he glanced over.
The fur on Rabbit’s forehead was terribly mussed. Instinctively, Fox licked his thumb and smoothed it back down, before returning to his previous train of thought. He’d capture him properly, yes, and…
Oh, what on Earth was that!? Did he just- why would he- disgusting! Fox was horrified at his own actions - that was so weird, his tiredness was clearly getting the better of him, et cetera... Oh, just ew! Right, it was time to get going, then, since Rabbit was asleep and he was evidently too exhausted to think straight.
Fox sped towards the door, slamming it shut behind him (no, it wouldn’t wake Rabbit, the man was out cold), and began a very brisk walk home. The air rushing past him cooled his slightly overheated face.
Well, he’d clearly been… He… That was…
He’d forget this ever happened. He was certainly going to capture Rabbit tomorrow, and he’d murder him and cook him to perfection, and…
Ugh. Fox’s stomach felt a bit funny.
Late nights were no good at all, he decided.
When he finally arrived home, Fox climbed straight into bed so that he could most effectively forget this whole thing ever happened!
Thank God Rabbit wasn’t going to remember anything - Fox would never live it down.