Chapter Text
His mother always warned him of the dreadful snuffles (what a terrible name for an equally terrible disease. He’ll think of it by what it should be referred to: pasteurella), and how remarkable that in all his young age, he never got it. Which was a bad thing, because it was a thing you are supposed to get when you are younger, where you would either get immunity, or die of suffocation. ‘It's better to get it young’ his father had insisted, ‘because if you die, then you don't have to waste time growing up’. A morbid way to put it, something that terrified him when he was a kid.
Terrapin had to be the one to point out something was wrong with him Friday evening. He didn’t mention the excessive sniffing, instead, he remarked about the sheer amount of scrunched up tissue paper in the waste basket, noting both that it was due to be emptied, but also, “I can't recall you sneezing this much, ever.” And it was also pointed out that Rabbit barely even touched his dinner. Yeah, one doesn’t feel very hungry when your nose is blocked, and don’t have the luxury of breathing through your mouth.
Rabbit had insisted then that it was probably just a minor cold. He’d get over it, and be in tip top shape by the time Saturday's sun rose from the horizon.
That morning, Lucy had to be the one to open the door for Terrapin. Rabbit assumes Lucy had mentioned that he’d refused to come out of his bed to make breakfast, because Terrapin knocked on his bedroom door soon after.
“You’re sick, aren’t you?” Terrapin knowingly said through the door. Rabbit could barely hear him, buried under his labouring breaths and blankets. He tried to speak, to tell him now was not the time to play the ‘I was right’ card, but could only let out a spluttering wheeze and cough.
‘A sleep would make him feel as right as rain’, he’d thought last night. What a lie.
Eventually, Terrapin made the executive decision to open his door and walk in. When he couched by his bedside, Rabbit finally managed to wheeze out,
“I think I have snuffles.”
“Snuffles?”
“Snuffles.” No matter how many times he said it, it was stupid. But his dumb, cloudy brain which could barely think couldn’t even begin to try to pronounce a word like pasteurella.
“I suppose you’ve been quite stressed lately,” Terrapin murmured, softly patting the bedding wrapped around Rabbit. After another round of struggling breaths, he covered his mouth and nose, the excessive mucus dribbling out,
“C-Could you take care of the kids for a while?” And before Terrapin could agree, he stressed, “In your house, not here.”
Immunity, or die, he recalls once again. He’d rather not let Lucy or the twins take that chance to begin with, if he could help it.
“Alright.” Good. “But I’ll be back to-”
“No-” Rabbit spluttered, sneezing, fighting the blockade in his nose, running out of breath, his lungs as clogged as they were sore, “I can take care of myself-”
“Rabbit-”
With his other hand which had been clutching the bedding, Rabbit grabbed onto Terrapin, and gently, he pushed him away.
“You’re a good friend,” Rabbit mumbled, “I’ll bake you some muffins after this. H-How-” A cough, a wheeze, “-about that?”
Either the promise of muffins finally got through to him, or, Terrapin trusted him (Rabbit couldn’t help but believe it was the former). His dear friend did as he was told, judging by how he quietly promised to bring some antibiotics soon, and went out of his bedroom. Echoes of Lucy’s protests jumped around the house, finding their way to Rabbit’s ears, but soon enough, the house was silent.
That was all sometime last week. Or even two, give or take (most likely give) a few days. He hasn’t seen Lucy or the twins since, and he missed them dearly. But that was certainly not enough to over-ride his parental duties of not giving his kids a terrible disease that would restrict their breathing, and possibly kill them in the process. Terrapin had, of course, been keeping him well up to date with their shenanigans. Lucy was, unfortunately, still advocating for fish rights, and her following at school was developing at ‘an exponential rate’. However she has still found the time for her school work and other extracurricular hobbies and commitments. The twins were, well, the twins. Keeping to themselves mostly. Managing well in his absence. However, there had been a brief scare when apparently, the twins had somehow escaped Terrapin's house, and he'd narrowly managed to find and grab them before they ran head first into the pond. Rabbit had scolded Terrapin then, reminding him to lock his doors, and probably invest in baby proofing his house for the foreseeable future.
It was… harrowing, to think that his children were doing just fine without him. It didn’t seem like they needed him at all.
All things considered, the medicine was doing alright at keeping his lethargy at bay (it was the worst thing about the first few days of sickness. The way his exhaustion alone was making it harder for him to breathe, and to do anything but rest deprived him of oxygen. Every inch of movement was an extra tax, and it took its toll on him sure enough. Combined with the blocked nose, there were several moments where he genuinely thought he was going to die). His appetite hasn’t gotten any better, and every day he can tell it’s getting worse the more Terrapin, with every visit, insists he drinks the soup he brings.
His nose, the culprit behind all this pain, has remained refusing to co-operate with him.
But, he’s stopped sneezing and coughing, which meant he could start sanitizing the house with as many alcohol wipes a turtle can buy without being side eyed by the cashier, and disinfectant sprays. And maybe, just maybe if his body continues to cooperate, Terrapin can bring Lucy and the twins back.
It might be excessive, cleaning every surface, every nook and cranny, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Every day, he tackled a new room, and spent the rest of his time resting. He also constantly had all the windows open, toughening up against the cold so that the house would have good ventilation. Since, he can’t imagine he’d feel any better if what he could get through his nose ended up just being an overwhelming smell of alcohol and lemon scented sprays.
Even if his brain couldn’t keep track of what he’s already wiped and sprayed, there was no harm in cleaning it again. Better be thorough than leave it up to chance. Lady luck might be on his side in terms of running away from whatever Fox and Wolf were up to, but in this instance, he’d be safer if by the time Lucy came home, she’ll remark about how there’s not a single place in the house that didn’t smell like citrus.
Yet, the more he cleaned the house, the more empty it felt. He didn't realize how used he was to the clutter before he'd finally cleaned it up. For once, the sink didn't have a single dish in it, the twin's playpen was neatly organized, the TV remote hadn't moved from its spot on the couch's arm rest- he'd even gone as far as to clean the twin's nursery and Lucy's room. Spotless, both of them.
Soon enough, the house had become empty. There was something unsettling about that, something off. And he didn't realize what it was until he had accidentally walked into Lucy's room one morning. His brain on auto pilot, wondering why she wasn't making a ruckus as she got ready for school. He'd stared at her bed for a little too long before realising 'oh, she is not here.'
Eventually, he concluded the obvious: The house, meant for four, was rather lonely with only just one. It wasn't really a home with just him in it. With only him, it felt as sterile.
When the doorbell rang, he didn’t answer it straight away. Terrapin should know by now to just walk in, he usually did. He has a key and everything. But when Rabbit didn’t hear any footsteps or greeting, Rabbit set his wipe aside, onto the living room shelf he was vigorously cleaning. He didn’t say anything as he walked, a waste of breath that would be, but he sternly thought about how Terrapin must have lost his key into the house, and that he’d have to go through all the hassle (once he was feeling better of course), to get a new one for him.
But, those were not green scales in front of him when he opened the door. Or a shell, for that matter.
Bright orange fur. Over dressed and creepy (as always). Angled eyebrows. And to shape the profile, a terribly familiar smirk on that snout.
“Ah, so you are alive!” Fox chittered, his voice far too loud. “And here I was beginning to suspect you had dropped dead somewhere without telling me where to pick up your carcass.”
Rabbit slowly blinked at the canine, from his left to his right in a slow motion. Perhaps it was that alone that it finally clicked for Fox that something was wrong.
“Goodness,” Fox grimaced, leaning away from him, “You certainly have seen better days. Is that a cardigan you're wearing?” Robe, more like. And he's pretty sure he hasn't taken it off in, maybe three days. If he didn't know the canine any better, he'd assume from tone alone that Fox missed seeing his ugly Hawaiian shirts.
“Snuffles does that to a rabbit,” Rabbit coughed, deliberately aiming it at the canine’s direction. But of course, such a pathetic attempt to get rid of the canine failed. Fox merely waved it off as if it were nothing more than an autumn leaf.
“And here I thought you might have been out of commission for more tasteful reasons,” Fox huffed, still grimacing. Then he began to complain, “Do you have any idea how much of Wolf's and I's efforts were wasted? We set up countless traps and our prey was a no show.”
“So sorry to hear that,” Rabbit scoffed, almost finding humour in Fox’s grousing and moaning. “Give me another week or something, and I’ll be ready to outrun your arse in no time.”
“A week?” Baffled, Fox gawked at him. “What kind of illness burrowed its way in you?”
“Pasteurella,” Rabbit repeated, narrowing his eyes.
“Can’t be,” Fox retorted, “When I had it as a pup, it was only for a few days.”
Rabbit wished he could sternly exhale at that, but he couldn’t. All he could manage was a painful wheeze, and letting out another fragile cough.
“Rabbits and birds, uh, particularly struggle with it,” he ended up explaining. Fox merely squinted at him, not believing a word he was saying. He decided to change topics, seeing as Fox wasn’t taking his, severely disadvantaged state to his advantage. “What, what are you doing here?”
“Well,” Fox began, letting out a huff, “I came to check in! See what is taking my favourite target so long to run about. All the effort we put in is as wasted as you are.” Fox, as always, never misses a chance to flick an insult at him. “You also didn’t show up to the textiles club.”
For a moment, all Rabbit wanted to say was ‘boo-hoo wah-wah keep whining about it you wanker’, but that last statement stopped those words before they could leave his mouth.
His words were blank, empty, as he couldn’t help but ask, “You noticed?”
Perhaps it was the way he asked it, because Fox could have easily just replied ‘Yes. Of course I noticed. I torment you every Wednesday for three hours straight in that sheep flocked library’, but Fox merely blinked at him. A withdrawn look in his eyes, staring past him. He’d taken that question (more like an accusation) personally.
“Don’t say it like that,” Fox eventually got out, confirming his suspicions, “You say that as if I care about you.”
“Funny because,” Rabbit began as the thoughts to say it materialized, “That's the only reason I can think of as to why you’re not trying to kill me right now.” A stupid, stupid reason. He didn't believe in it himself, and he was sure Fox would provide a much better excuse.
At that, Fox rolled his eyes and scoffed.
“You think I’m going to eat you when you’re diseased?” Fox spluttered, “And you’re thinner than anything! With how hollow those cheeks of yours are I cannot fathom how shriveled up your organs must be. You look decrepit!” Awe, how sweet, this might be the first time Fox has outrightly spat out that he looks inedible. “My appetite has been chased away just from looking at you!” So that was the excuse then? Hm, plausible.
“I should get sick more often,” Rabbit mused. Not that he meant it. Because, well, he would like to be able to breathe again. Breathing was very nice. Suffocating because your own body is betraying you? Not so much.
Though, Fox did look peeved. His teeth gritted, his tail swishing behind him, but like always, Rabbit got to watch Fox center himself. Adjusting that collar, promptly smoothing out the fur standing on his tail, and rolling back his shoulders.
“Why don’t you come inside?” Rabbit offered before he could stop himself. Something in his subconscious was speaking for him. “I guess I owe you two weeks of chatting over nonsense.” Because Fox wouldn’t have picked a worst time to stop by his house. No Terrapin, no Lucy, and no twins. Just Rabbit. Only Rabbit, and his home.
Perhaps Fox realised that too. Perhaps he was feeling a wave of realisation as he tilted his head, staring at him, and then past him into the house. A thought washing over those pupils of his, glimmering, before dulling against the sharpness of those eyes.
“Me,” he began, “in your burrow?”
“I promise,” Rabbit began with a wheezing laugh, "There's nothing in here that will hurt you.” Fox let out a mix between a splutter and scoff (an ‘offended exhale’ would be the safest way to describe it), his eye twitching at the very notion that something in a rabbit’s burrow could maim him. And proving him wrong was temptation enough.
Rabbit left the door open as he went back into his house. Leaving the Fox by the door and the wipes and sprays in the living room, he went to the kitchen to make Fox a cup of tea, knowing he’d probably want some.
It was, interesting, to say the least, watching the canine step as hesitantly as he had when he’d walked into Fox’s den for the first time. Though, he didn’t seem afraid. Just careful. Like anything he touched would break. His steps were light against the carpet. He watched as Fox closed the door behind him, and eyed the height chart Rabbit had drawn up to record Lucy's height as she’d grown over the years. Rabbit watched his hesitation by the door and his staring at the floor made Rabbit wonder if Fox was trying to figure out whether or not this was a shoes off or on household.
“Shoes on,” Rabbit answered as he washed his hands. He then reached for the kettle, turning on the sink’s facet to fill it with water. He’d assumed correctly, since Fox looked up and made his way to the kitchen. Again, he was being careful- no, no,
He was staking it out. Surveiling the house during a brief visit Fox probably assumes will be his only invited one. Memorising every detail (it was rather ironic, really, that Fox is studying an environment that will probably never be as clean as this ever again. If he ever does come back, it will all be completely different. Messy. Lived in. He wonders if Fox is confused about the cleanliness of it all).
Rabbit let him. He had no dirty laundry to be shameful of.
As the kettle boiled, Rabbit pulled out a tray of different teas from a drawer. Recently, Terrapin had gotten him quite a bit of peppermint and ginger sachets to help with his nasal congestion. But, judging from what he knows of Fox, he’ll probably ask for chamomile.
“You’ve got a quaint house,” Fox finally noted.
“It’s home,” Rabbit mumbled, finding a sachet of chamomile at the very back of the tray. He might have to get some more.
“I thought the interior design would be much like Wolf’s home, but no, the entire structure is different.” Fox’s index finger delicately caressed the kitchen counter, his claws careful not to scratch. “Different interior architects, perhaps?”
“Is it up to your standards?” Rabbit asked, feeding the canine more incentive to continue this rather pointless train of thought.
“Hm,” Fox hummed, “It is what I expected from you.”
Fox didn’t linger in the kitchen. He explored further into the house instead. Surveying the living room. From the couch and arm chair, to the television, to the wallpaper. Said wallpaper he seemed able to hold himself from commenting on.
“Carrots.” Rabbit couldn’t tell if that tone was amused, or simply disappointed at the unoriginal decor, “Quite on the nose, isn’t it? For a family of rabbits.”
“Funny that,” Rabbit said, achingly waiting for the water to boil so some tea could shut Fox up, “it came with the house.” Of all the little tweaks, changes, and fixes he and his wife made to the house, that particular wallpaper remained unchanged. In fact, it was one of the reasons they chose this house in the first place. She quite liked its charming personality.
He also inspected the bookshelf, taking liberties to take out a few, reading the covers and flipping through the pages. Most of them were picture books from when Lucy was little. Some were his wife’s novels, and those he hadn’t dared to touch since, well. Since.
When the kettle finally boiled, Rabbit didn’t waste any time putting the tea sachets in cups, and pouring out the hot water. It wasn’t as fancy as Fox would do it, with his antique and suspicious great grandmama’s porcelain teapot, but it was good enough for a quick cuppa. He might even get out the biscuits if he remembers to ask his ‘guest’ if he would like any.
Fox was staring at the family photos above the living room drawer when he came over with the tea.
Taking photos wasn’t Rabbit’s specialty. He always forgets to capture all the moments, both loud and quiet. So many of them were from when Lucy was just a wee little bunny. Either properly posed baby and toddler photos at some sort of scenic place, or a fun one where she’s blowing a bubble with a wand, or dressed up as a fairy princess. There were a few of the twins. One in particular Rabbit really liked was when he had dressed them up as twin pumpkins on the same vine. They were infants, then, so they were sleeping in the photo.
There were a few of him and Terrapin when they were young. Most of those were random selfies that Rabbit had scoured up from deep in his storage or camera rolls. They were worn, because of that. But they’ll stay in the condition as they are now that they’re tucked in frames.
“What a quaint little fluffle,” Fox said. Rabbit handed him his cup of tea. Accepting the offering, the canine nursed it in his hands. “Shocking, that they’re not here tending to your poor soul.”
“Terrapin’s visited plenty,” Rabbit muttered. “And he’s taking care of the kids while I get better.” There was a low tut from the canine.
“How thoughtful…”
Fox’s finger curled and twiddled with the hanging label of the tea sachet, his eyes scanning the photos.
“But he stays away, I would assume. Lest he pass on what you have to your children?”
“I have to push him out the door,” Rabbit wheezed out in a chuckle. As much as it stressed him out, in which the longer Terrapin stayed the more risky it got, he’ll always be thankful for the way he’d tell him all the way to the door to keep taking his antibiotics and drinking fluids, and to not exert himself. And, to not do anything stupid. Regretfully, Rabbit’s been following his orders to a tee, except for the last bit.
There was a responsive hum, followed by a brief, “You must be terribly lonely.”
Rabbit bit the inside of his mouth, and quietly sipped his tea.
“Ah, I see now.” A quiet realisation, much unlike Fox. And he had to say it out loud before Rabbit himself realised. “You invited me to come inside because you ache for company, and you don’t care if I get sick or not.”
Rabbit sniffled. Swallowing the down lump in his throat.
“Desperate, much?” Fox chittered, grimacing ever so slight as he read the branding on the label (the pompous jerk was probably not used to budget brand teas) before finally taking a sip. “You’ll do brash things, just for a little thrill.”
“This is far from thrilling, I can assure you,” he muttered. Stressful, would be the best way to describe it. He did have a predator in his house after all. He'll thank Fox for keeping his lethargy at bay more effectively than the antibiotics ever could. He could feel his heart thudding against his chest, his legs ready to run and move, a nasty crawling under his skin, his ears twitching, waiting in impatient anticipation for Fox to do the dumb thing and make his move.
“I know better than anyone here how much you enjoy an adrenaline rush,” Fox, the conniving canine he was, leaned toward him. “What an insatiable greed you have, yet so much self restraint to only involve yourself. Because Mother Earth forbid, you drag your children, or that dear friend of yours into your messy habits.”
“Bold assumption,” Rabbit tried to dismiss, but it didn’t work. Fox only stared down at him with a pointed look. Smug, with his eyes casting nothing sort of doubt. “Don’t you have someone else to psycho-analyze?” Rabbit decided to deflect, already shooting himself in the foot for taking a page out of Fox’s book for this, “Someone like, I don’t know-” yourself? “-Wolf?” He settled to say instead. That might be genuinely beneficial to that relationship. Goodness knows both of them would gain something if Fox took the time to try to understand Wolf.
“Tore a nerve, have I?” The canine pressed, not taking the bait. Damnit.
Rabbit’s silence lingered in the tea he sipped, the unsteadiness of his hands. The suffocation, deeply rooted in his throat and nose, gripped him so tight. None of that should have stopped him from telling Fox to quickly finish his tea. To cut it short here, to tell him to leave. Push him out the door if he must, like he did these past few days with Terrapin. And so, it must have been something else.
While lost in his thoughts, Fox asked him,
“These photos, they’re rather incomplete, aren’t they… Where is she?”
Rabbit wouldn’t swallow that one down. His mouth was dry, and he couldn’t bring the tea to his mouth again, elbows locked in position.
Her photos were far away. Tucked away in a photo album in Rabbit’s room. From her school days, to the glimpses of their time as girlfriend and boyfriend, date after date, photos after the proposal- pages upon pages of pictures from their wedding, their honeymoon, when they announced, photos of ultrasounds and her on the hospital bed, holding their new baby girl, glimpses of them renovating their new home, fields of flowers and her face buried in the grass, the very few of a vacation in Canada- photos, upon photos, upon photos, treasured so dearly he couldn’t bear to let them see the light of day again.
“Far from you,” Rabbit finally said, “Far from your appetite.”
He doesn’t want that for her, to be prey. He never wanted that for her. But she was hunted anyway. Treated as nothing more than another kill.
But he can feel it in Fox’s stare, how hungry he was. How hungry he always was. And he knew if she were here, the predator would only think no differently. Just more rabbits to hunt. More fish in the sea to catch.
Fox opened his mouth, a moment of hesitation past, before he said quietly,
“As unbelievable as it may seem, it never crossed my mind to hunt her.”
“Absolutely,” Rabbit replied. “I don’t believe you.” Not for a second. Not in a million years. Fox would have to swear on his mother that he was telling the truth for Rabbit to even be close to believing such a lie, but he’d only curse Fox when it is realised that the canine’s dear mother wasn't around anymore, and so there is nothing to swear over.
Fox’s reply wasn’t immediate, and there was thought behind his next words.
“So that disease hasn’t eroded that mind of yours after all.” There was a breathy laugh, as Fox sipped some more tea. “Just the loneliness, an outlier then, in your otherwise regular behaviour.”
“Still on that, are you?” Rabbit grumbled, though he did try to be a bit more cheery. Attempting to switch the mood back around to the usual bickering.
“Or, maybe you have always been lonely, and your illness has only made that more apparent.” Fox began to wonder out loud, “Hm, I suppose losing a spouse would make one feel out of sorts for a long period of time.”
“Don’t pretend like you know what you’re talking about,” Rabbit jeered, and snapped before thinking. “You don’t know what it's like to love and be loved.”
He's lying through his teeth, because you don't even need the gift of sight to see how terribly infatuated Fox and Wolf are with each other. Then again, if Fox doesn't even acknowledge it, since he's so hellbent on the idea that he doesn't care about him, is it a lie then? If what he is saying is what Fox believes himself? You can't know love unless you accept it.
Fox hand perched themselves on the drawer under the wall of photos, his eyes a cutting balance between lax and keen, and they were still staring at Rabbit. The canine's ears were twitching again. Listening. But Rabbit couldn't hear anything other than the wheeze in his quiet breathing.
“But how lonely it all is,” Fox admitted, a homogenized mix of sincerity and fraudulency in that undertone, “to be all high and mighty. Wouldn’t the so-called ‘Cabbage King’ with no Queen agree?”
Fox guzzled the rest of his tea then, just so he could set it on top of the drawer and free his hand. That hand went to Rabbit’s collar, teasing out the wrinkles, neatening it, and toying with the cardigans loose buttons.
And that, that was when he could finally gulp. Poor timing, really. His ears twitched at Fox’s low snicker.
“You already take so much from me, Rabbit,” the predator hummed, “My crops, my time, my attention, oh, and I loathe you so. An unbearable amount, for all you have done to me. I ache at the idea of having to share the spoils of my inevitable victory over you with Wolf.”
He didn’t move while Fox trailed his claw up his neck, tracing his jawline, ending at his chin. Nail pricked up, threatening to poke through the skin.
“You really think you’re going to win?” Rabbit challenged. “Seems to me like you’ve already gotten used to losing.” Defeat for Fox had to be as much of a habit for him as victory was for Rabbit. A genuine lens that believes in victory wouldn’t have plans lined up one after another, ideas only brewing for more.
“I’ll win today,” Fox breathed out, “When you listen to what I’m offering you.”
Claws returned to his collar, and they pulled gently, both of them meeting halfway with Rabbit looking over Fox’s shoulder, and Fox’s mouth by the side of his head, right by the base of his ears.
“We already share countless arrangements. Let’s add another. Spoken this time, mutually agreed on.”
Dumbly, Rabbit thought that he could cough on Fox. Obnoxiously. So much so that Fox would let him go and back off. Rabbit could insist that he was still extremely contagious, and that Fox should leave before he suffers the consequences, because there’s only so much childhood immunity can do when you’re in direct contact with someone still terribly diseased.
But he sabotaged himself by lingering in Fox’s grasp.
In fact, Rabbit gently set his half full cup of tea next to the canine’s empty cup.
And he turned to him. Eye to eye. Holding Fox’s gaze. No going back now.
“What do you have in mind?”
Rabbit had left the door wide open, and Fox had stepped through. He was in his burrow, he was in his living room. And Rabbit had just placed a bid, his attention as payment not for the wager, but to merely play.
Knowing this, Fox smiled.
“Truly, it’s not so different from what we’ve already been doing, with our lack of restraint.” Fox slowly turned his body, taking a step forward, a little to the side, just enough to begin closing in on Rabbit, “why, the only difference would be a gracious overstepping of boundaries, unchartered territory for the both of us, all of it waiting to be-” Fox’s snout twitched away from his ears, his nose now pointed down to his shoulder. “-Clawed, torn, devoured.”
Fox was always hungry, is something he has to remember. A starving, deprived predator the canine is and always will be. Rabbit only recalls it as a distant thought as Fox’s mouth lowers closer and closer to the nape of his neck. His body turned more, putting Rabbit between him and the drawer.
“Not as far as to kill you, no, not when it’s just you and me, when you’re downbeat and trodden. I’ll always wait for you to be in your prime when you're boasting your pride. It’ll make your flesh that much sweeter.” An answer was there, stuck in his throat, behind a rising lump he now needed to swallow. “Such ill company, we’d keep with each other, but you wouldn’t try anything better, would you?”
Rabbit swallowed thickly, feeling the lump trickle down achingly slow down his throat. Once it was gone, he opened his mouth, ready to speak.
But that moment was ripped away as he heard the jingle of keys. His ears twitched before Fox’s, both of them listening to the creaking of a door, and the sound of footsteps. The realisation that the two were no longer alone was a screeching record player coming to a stop.
“Rabbit! I popped into the store again and got more alcohol wipes if you ne-”
Fox hadn't pulled away, perhaps caught between going through with whatever he had in mind and aborting. It left his body still hunched over Rabbit, and Rabbit’s shirt still in his hands. And so that, Rabbit believes, is what Terrapin saw when he walked deep enough into the house.
As both he and Fox turned their heads to look at the turtle, Rabbit felt sorry for the lightning strike of fear that burned onto Terrapin’s face.
Rather than scream in terror, Terrapin’s shell shook as he reached into the first object he could find. His bag of groceries, the bag of wipes as his chosen projectile.
“You stay away from my friend!”
Fox, of course, burst out laughing. Unable to take the display of bravery as anything but a silly joke.
“And what are you going to do?!” He cackled, his pitch varying maniacally, “throw that at m-? OW!” The packet smacked Fox right in the nose, knocking his head back, propelling him until a stumble. Rabbit had almost been brought right along with him if he didn’t pry Fox’s claws out of his collar fast enough.
“Nice shot,” Rabbit praised, turning to his friend.
“Why thank you,” Terrapin mused, beaming as he put his hands to his hips, “I’ve been practicing.”
Fox scowled as he adjusted himself, rubbing his nose tenderly as he snapped over to Terrapin.
“Your shell would make a nice bowl for some stew-” He snarled.
“Wouldn’t a gentlefox know when he’s no longer invited?” Rabbit piped up, sniffing a little. He got a nasty glare then, those tempered eyes narrowed and sour.
But those shoulders rolled back, and the canine let out a heavy, heavy exhale.
“He would,” Fox finally pouted, tightening that collar of his. “I’ll see myself out.”
Terrapin had grabbed another packet of wipes as he’d passed him, making sure to raise it high and warn that he wasn’t a one shot trick shot. It only took an aggressive gekker from Fox to make Terrapin recede into his shell, and hurry over to Rabbit.
Both of them listened to the door creek and slam, leaving the turtle and rabbit alone in the house.
“Blimey,” Terrapin spluttered, “How on earth did he even get in here?!”
“Oh, I let him in,” Rabbit dismissed with a shrug. “So, extra wipes you said-?”
“WHAT?!” Terrapin screeched. “YOU LET HIM IN?!”
Rabbit tried to ‘psh’ him, but he let out a series of wheezing coughs instead, his body cursing him for pushing himself so far.
“-s not a big deal,” Rabbit dismissed, waving his hand, taking a few steps away, “he didn’t do anything.”
“DIDN’T-!?” Terrapin’s jaw was practically on the ground. “RABBIT! HE HAD YOU PINNED! HIS MOUTH WAS THIS CLOSE TO YOU!”
“Yeah but he didn’t bite did he?”
“BECAUSE I CAME THROUGH THE DOOR???”
While Rabbit went to the abandoned grocery bag, his friend spluttered and attempted to make sense of his thoughts. Letting out words with nothing to follow them, noises that didn’t go anywhere. While Terrapin panicked as usual, Rabbit picked out the wipes, and also inspected the new flask of soup he’d brought. Soup that he still wasn’t sure he’d be able to stomach. From a quick sniff test, he thinks he can distinguish it as carrot, yam, and radish soup. But still, hardly any of it actually reached his smell receptors, so it was as wild of a guess as say, broccoli stew in there.
“Rabbit, I don’t think you get it! If it wasn't for my impeccable timing-” Finally, a legible thing came out of Terrapin’s mouth, and Rabbit couldn't help but scoff at that cocky tone, “Fox was going to eat you!”
“No he wasn’t.”
“YOU-” Terrapin cried, cutting himself short when he didn’t know where that was going. But he quickly found himself. “WHAT MAKES YOU THINK HE WASN’T???”
Because that would be quite rude, to try to eat him while making a deal. But also because Fox had made it quite clear that he thought Rabbit was in a disgusting state and that he was far from appetizing.
None of that would convince Terrapin. And, quite frankly, it shouldn’t have convinced Rabbit.
“We were having a conversation,” Rabbit settled to say.
“A conversation! Sure! And what was this conversation about!?”
In a great, dramatic montage, it flicked through his head.
“You noticed-?
There's nothing in here that will hurt you.
You must be terribly lonely.
Where is she?
My crops, my time, my attention,
-already share countless arrangements. Let’s add another-”
“Nothing important,” Rabbit wheezed out, biting the inside of his cheek. Lying through his teeth as he added, “Really, you’d think by letting him in he’d at least have something interesting to say to make up for the trouble.”
He got a look from Terrapin, a stern one. Complete and utter disbelief. No, I don’t trust you, was said from that look alone.
“Rabbit,” he asked, slower this time, “what did you talk about?”
He wasn’t sure how to reply. He couldn’t say everything, but he didn’t want to say anything either. What would Terrapin prefer? That Fox had come by specifically because he’d wondered where he'd been these past few days, and that their chat was the result of an attempted ‘check in’? Was he supposed to tell Terrapin about Fox’s prodding and poking, his staking out of the house. His keen interest in the details Rabbit has probably long since overlooked after so long of living here? Was he supposed to tell Terrapin how Fox, after taking one look at the photos on his wall, believed he had the right to mention her? Was he, Rabbit, meant to tell Terrapin that Fox had ventured and nestled himself so deep into the burrow, sunk his claws so deep, that he had exploited the opportunity to offer a proposition?
And was he, Rabbit, meant to tell Terrapin that he had been enticed? Alured? Tempted?
Silence was the product of a wartorn mind, battling between this or that, everything or none at all.
“Rabbit, I’m worried about you, you know?” Terrapin began carefully, when Rabbit couldn’t respond. “Really, I am. I mean- just the other week, before you got this sick, you dove head first into another one of Fox and Wolf’s traps, just because you can!”
“Well, yes,” Rabbit fondly recalls, holding back a snicker before his body could rudely protest. “Gosh, it was stupidly entertaining watching those two completely mess up despite me ‘falling right for it’.” Because their plans were stupid, predictable, and even if he played along with it, those two would somehow manage to mess up. “I handle myself like I always do.” Truly, there was no danger at all. He’ll run for his life, sure, but he’ll never get caught. The title of ‘Cabbage King’ wasn’t enough anymore. Call him God, because consequences were beyond him and his acrobatic brilliance.
“Like you did just now? With Fox on you?” Terrapin argued. But he let out an agonized grunt, his hand on his face, attempting to comb away the hair he didn’t have anymore. “But hey, that’s not even the problem now!” Terrapin argued instead, “It’s the fact that it really doesn’t seem like you value your own life! You're being self destructive!”
Rabbit hadn’t noticed, but during all of this, Terrapin had been slowly approaching step-by-step in his distress. And it only took a few more steps before Terrapin was within arm’s reach. He reached out, and when Rabbit tried to pull away, his scaled hands found his sleeve, tugging, asking him to turn back around. In an act of self-determination Rabbit only so often sees from the turtle, he said,
“Whatever Fox told you, don’t listen.”
Rabbit heard him, letting those words ring in his ears.
Then, with shaky hands, he reached out to Terrapin, grabbing him,
and gently, he pushed him away.