Beer Run (Legless-Cheeky AU)

Fuck, it's cold. It's cold, you're wet from the snow beating your ass down from the moment you stepped outside to walk all the way down to the store, and you have to make slow, careful steps despite the long, long distance to not eat hard shit on the pavement. Damn near invisible ice... You wouldn't even be on this death march if the buses weren't closed down due to the weather, which you found out after sitting on the icy bench for near half an hour waiting for nothing. Normally you'd just call it there, especially for so minor a task during what the other residents call "half as bad of a freak winter as the last", but your chivalrous nature won out over your common sense. Besides, you were already more than halfway there by the time you realized just how stupid of an idea it was. And what exactly were you out fetching on foot in this winter hellhole? Beer. You sent yourself out on this freezing slog of a beer run just for an incredibly minor promise you made to Cheeky some time ago. You promised to pay her back for the drinks she shared with you every so often, which you decided to make good on today when you heard from the raunchy chicken herself about her empty fridge.

The thought about just waiting had occurred to you while you were at the bus stop, even thoughts about her getting her own drinks, though you quickly squashed them down. You can still vividly recall how she handled the stairs down from her apartment on a good day, and you sincerely doubt she could handle a trip to and back from the store while lugging a twelve-pack of beer. Speaking of, that's another great reason as to why you're still taking your time down the treacherous sidewalk. One good slip and that could be it for the beer. Maybe some could be OK, or perhaps they'd all be fine if not just ready to explode out in a frothy mess after popping the cap off, but you're in no mood to test it. Thankfully, you finally see the apartment building in sight, marking an end to your long walk in the snow. You fight against the urge to hasten your pace out of fear of the ice, though you still feel excited at the idea of finally feeling warmth in your frozen digits again.

One last obstacle to go: The stairs. Each step is coated in a thick layer of snow, no doubt with another layer of ice right below it. You take a deep breath and take your first step up. In an attempt to practice the utmost safety, you set the case of beer down on each step before taking a careful step up, all the while keeping a tight grip on the snow-covered hand railing. It's slow, monotonous, and only further freezing your soaked clothes, but it's far better than falling and screwing your ribs up again. After what felt like half an hour of slowly climbing and repositioning the beer, with one or two occasions of your feet nearly sliding on the icy steps, you finally make it up to the correct floor. You quickly hurry down to 93-B and use its door knocker for a few sharp clacks. Past the slight howl of the wind, you could faintly hear your avian friend yell within, "Door's open!" You open the door and enter, restraining yourself from lunging yourself inside and slamming the door behind you. You put the snow speckled box of beer down on the floor and shut out the freezing winds with the closing of the door. You let out a ragged sigh of relief, taking a moment to take in some warm air before you could begin to throw off your soaked clothes.

"Mike?"

You turn around and see Cheeky looking at you from behind the couch, her mascara-caked face contorted in concern. You wanted to triumphantly raise the box of beer and say something corny, probably something along the lines of "About that beer I owed ya." However, the most you could come up with in your energy and heat sapped mind was a weak "Hey."

"Shit, man, you look like you went on a mountain trip or something! Why are you- Wait... Is that Chunky Wheel?" she asks, her eyes briefly breaking from you to look down at the box at your feet. You don't know why it has a name that sounds like a cheap bootleg version of something else, but it's the only brand of beer you ever see filling up the fridge and trashcan.

"Yeah...." you say, taking a moment to start taking your soaked shoes and socks off.

"Aren't the buses out for today though?"

"Yeah..."

"Dude, what the hell?" she remarks, her beak twisting into a grin. "What's the occasion for?"

"Just felt like helping out," you answer briefly, finally freeing yourself of your cold jacket to throw onto the small pile you're starting to make off to the side. You hate to just leave it on the ground, though with the lack of a hook or wall rack, it'll have to do.

"Well, shit! Thanks! Hurry up and give momma her booze then, helper-boy!" she playfully commands, waving a wing towards herself in an exaggerated movement.

You couldn't help but smirk at her remark. You dust the snow off the box and lug it over to the couch, the heat only further inviting the farther you get away from the door. Placing the box down at the foot of the couch, you can see that she was in the same spot since earlier today. She was wrapped in a large, soft blanket fully enveloping her from the neck down, and close to her side was a remote for the TV. Normally, you'd find a half-drunk bottle of beer in her feathery grasp or attempting to rest in her perky cleavage, though you obviously know the reason as to why she is currently beer-less.

"Damn, Mikey, you're completely soaked."

You look down and feel at the fabric of your shirt. While it feels just as cold to you as your fingers do, you could tell that it was just as badly drenched as your pants.

"You ain't gonna sit here and steal my heat with your wet self. Go take them off and put them with the rest," she says, pointing a wing at your clothes with her wing. As you take a quick second to question the idea of stripping down to just your underwear, Cheeky gives an exaggerated roll of her eyes and tugs the cover off herself to motion down at her waist with a wing. "Look, it's not like you're gonna be the only one sitting around in their undies."

Naturally, your eyes are drawn down from her eyes, to the white tanktop cutting short just above her slim stomach, and then to her waist. The light blue panties keep your attention for a brief moment, at least before you look to her legs; or rather, the lack thereof. Even now you still can't help but look down at the scarred stumps in a mix of curiosity and pity, despite it being well over a year since you've met her and found this out sometime later. The only tipoff you had before then was the awkward gait in her step when she walked around, her long pants and shoes hiding away the metal prosthetics from view. As quickly as you look down, you keep yourself from making this any more awkward by looking back up at her eyes. Thankfully, she doesn't seem aware or is at least courteous enough to not bring it up. You give her a small smile and answer, "Well, if you want me out of my pants THAT badly..."

"Pffft! Go and throw them off before you get hypothermia or something."

You leave the couch and approach the small pile of wet clothes left by the door. You begin to tug off your wet shirt, but you stop when you hear Cheeky call out from the couch, "What, no strip show for poor Chica?" You turn back, seeing the lewd chicken gazing out from behind the couch with a beer in wing. She pops off the top using the tip of her beak, then takes a quick swig before teasing, "Keep going."

With a smirk, you lower your shirt and move into a blind spot to keep undressing, much to her vocal disapproval. "Hey, is it cool if I put these in the washer?" you ask as you take off your pants, not wanting to leave even more of a mess.

"Yeah, go ahead."

After gathering your wet clothes, you take a small detour down to the laundry machine and dump your wet clothes in. Your legs and torso felt a small chill being exposed to the air, though the immediate warmth of being freed from your clothes more than makes up for it. As you emerge from the hallway back into the living room, Cheeky lives up to her name and tries her best to mimic a wolf whistle.

"Looking good, Mike," she smirks.

You return the smile with one of your own. "Don't I know it." You approach the couch, her invitation under the blanket still open with her half-naked body still revealed to the light. You relax back into the couch, letting out an audible sigh as you feel the slightly warm fabric touch your cold back. As soon as you sit back, Cheeky lazily throws the other end of the cover to you with her free wing.

"Wanna beer?" she offers, holding up an unopened bottle up in the air.

"Yeah, just... Gotta take a moment to unfreeze my insides."

"Fair," she says. Similar to the first, she uses the tip of her beak to crack the metal cap off of the bottle. She hands you the bottle, then dryly spits the cap out onto her empty lap with another cap.

"That can't be good for your beak, right?"

"Eh... I'll worry about it when I have to worry about it," she says. She takes another swig, then looks to you and asks, "How long were you out? These feel like they were in the fridge for a full day."

"I... can't remember. I think left the bus stop around... 7:40?"

"Shit, Mike, it's close to 10," she says, finishing the last of her bottle in one long drink. "Why'd you go freeze your ass out there?"

"So you wouldn't have to," you answer. Before you could take your first drink, Cheeky laughs and interrupts you with a soft, feathery pat on your shoulder with what you think is a slap from her wing.

"Geez, and here I thought chivalry died," she grins. "Well... Thank you very much. You really didn't have to do this, y'know. I can get my own booze on my own time."

"Just thought I'd make it easier for you and get it myself."

"Well," she grunts as she bends down to fish another bottle out from the box. With one more cap removed using her impromptu bottle opener, she continues, "The thought is well appreciated."

You both sit in silence and enjoy the drinks as you both watch the TV. Cheeky takes greedy gulps of her beer whenever she brings the bottle up to her beak, with you pacing yourself out more slowly. Some warmth begins to creep back into your body, though you can still feel a cold chill around your arms and legs.

"So, where'd your legs walk off to today?" you joke, curious as to how she got herself situated on the couch.

"Heh, they're off in my room somewhere with my pants. Figured I wouldn't need 'em."

"How... How did you get here then?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she snorts. "They were here, but I asked Bonnie to drop them off a few hours ago before he left. Heh, poor thing hit his head against the door frame coming out."

That only brings up more questions. "But... Wait, then how would you leave the couch to, like, go to the bathroom or go to bed? Why wouldn't you just keep them here?"

"Eeeh... Details. Didn't want to put 'em back on just to take 'em off right after getting to bed."

"Wow. Really living up to being queen couch potato, huh?"

"You know it," she grins. "Competitions fierce come winter! Gotta get a... leg up on the competition."

"Oh god, please, no. That almost made me throw up," you chuckle.

"Yeah? You're still laughing though."

You both chuckle at the awful joke, though another question pops into your mind that causes you to stop. "Hey, we're not being too loud, right?"

"Nah, everyone's out. Foxy's over at Bonbon's watching her, Fred is... somewhere; wasn't really listening when he said he was heading out. And Bonnie's at his sister's."

"Good, good."

"Yeah, so, go ahead and be as loud as you want," she smirks, looking at you with a smug look as she pats her chest with her fist. After a few seconds of further silence, you begin to feel uncomfortable as she looks at you, as if expecting you to say something. Before you could ask what after several more moments, a crass belch breaks loose which she follows with a loud cackle.

You hate to laugh at such crude humor, but her dedication to carrying out the joke did get to you; either that or her laughter is just infectious. For another two hours or so, you both continue to shoot the shit, with Cheeky downing three bottles of beer and start working on her fourth. You've still been nursing your second drink and decided to cut yourself off there, though you're starting to feel concern for her as her speech begins to slur. Eventually, she finishes her drink, puts the bottle down beside the other four, and begins to speak.

"Alright, Mikey... I thhhink I'm gonna turn in. Gettin' real late..."

"Yeah... You want me to just, uh, get up and leave you here?"

"Nnno, no... Gonna go to my room...." she mutters, bringing the tips of her wings up to rub at her closed eyes.

"What, without your legs?"

She opens her eyes and shoots you an amused look. "Yeah? Not unlessh helper-boy wants to help this poor, helpless and lazy hen to her bed."

Without a word, you purse your lips and set your drink aside as you come to a stand. Cheeky looks at you in confusion, ready to ask what you were doing until you dig your hand underneath her waist and one behind her back. With a grunt and a lift up, you manage to get the legless chicken off of the couch, her being somewhat lighter than you expected her to be. However, after a quick thought, you realized why and quickly buried any joke that was beginning to emerge in your mind.

"Oh hohoh!" she exclaims in surprise, quickly wrapping her wings around your neck out of fear of falling. After a few moments to make sure you and she were steady, you begin to slowly approach her bedroom. "Geez... If all I need t'do to get you to do thingsh for me is to joke about it, I'd let you carry me around more often."

"Nah, I'm just trying to get you to start owing me favors than the other way around."

"Oh, well, theeen drop me on the floor, ya basstard. Ain't owin' you shhhit."

With a chuckle, you slowly carry her to her bedroom. Thankfully, the door was already open, most likely thanks to Bonworth out of concern for her. With a light push with your foot, you begin to blindly make your way into the dark bedroom. Though careful in your step, you thankfully don't trip into anything hidden on the dark floor as you approach the waterbed in the center of her room. You approach the side and lay her down gently onto her back, though it only further incites more playful teasing from her.

"Withhh how you're putting me down, 'sss like you're wanting to join me here," she purrs, extending one wing over to the side to pat the wobbly surface. Before you could decline about any advances, she continues, "But... Wouldn't be right of me to assk. Bleh... If I weren't ssso tipsy, I'd ask about that rraincheck..."

You wouldn't use tipsy, but you can at least agree with her on that offer you and her made long ago. "Yeah..."

"Well... Still really ssweet of ya, Mikey-poo," she coos obnoxiously, her grin still visible to you even in the pitch black darkness. "So... You wanna sleep here or whhat? 's not like your clothes are gonna be ready for... another few hours or ssso."

You hesitate from answering. You actually weren't planning on staying the night over, but at this point it looks like you might just have to. While you're more than fine just taking up the couch, you know that she wouldn't take you saying no lying down. At the very least it won't be any more awkward with the two of you sleeping together in your undergarments as it was the last time.

"That'd be nice of you. But don't think I'm letting you cash this in as one of those favors you now owe me."

"Psssh... Keep bringing up thosse favors and I'll really make you owe me somethin'."

With one last chuckle, you approach the waterbed from the other side and climb in, taking a moment to get used to its unstable surface. After a few moments of careful approach, you eventually fully climb onto the waterbed. Cheeky has already buried herself beneath the covers and you follow suit. You can feel the heat of her body a small distance away, but neither of you are in direct contact with each other yet. Just as before, the waterbed feels great; you feel ready to fall asleep in an instant.

"Thank you again, Mike, for getting the beer...." Cheeky quietly says.

"Hey, like I said, it's no problem."

"Yeah... Prolly would've been for me. Stepsh would've... broken my legs if I still had 'em," she hoarsely laughs.

You return the laughter, though more out of courtesy than genuine amusement.

"Eh... Hate goin' out into the cold too... Messsses with me...." she continues in a quiet voice. "Will sound crazy, but... Ssometimes, when it's real cold... I can feel my feet sometimess. It hurtsh a bit, like I feel it through my legss and feet, but... Always freaksss me out."

You remain quiet. You aren't even sure what to say.

"Heh... Sssorry. Shouldn't be sssuch a downer. Rrreally does mean a lot you got it for me... Goodnight, Mike."

"Goodnight."

You feel her shift on the waterbed until she finds a comfortable position, and after a few moments, she starts to softly sleep. You can feel your own eyelids begin to weigh heavily. Without another reason to stay awake, you close your eyes and fall asleep. You find yourself waking back up for a brief moment later into the night, though when you're not sure of. While you just as quickly fell asleep as you did wake up, you could briefly tell that Cheeky had closed the short distance between you and her. Her wing rested across your chest and you could feel the stump of her leg touching your own leg. Her breathing was slightly louder due to her being so close, but it all wasn't so obtrusive that it prevented you from falling back asleep. If anything, it made going back to sleep all the easier.