Candace being Candace 1 - Firebrand (m/f, mouse girl)

						Candace being Candace 1 - Firebrand

	I kick the door open, burdened with the precious load leaning against my back with my arms reaching behind in support. Well, I kicked the door open after I've unlocked it and awkwardly managed to twist the handle first. I just wanted to appreciate the dramatic sense of the action; everything's more impressive when you're four bourbons under.
	Staggering into my apartment, I relax in the fact that I'm finally in my bare-bones home; a sofa, TV, a partitioned kitchen in a spartan arrangement and shelves filled with movies and junk memorabilia I can't bear to throw out, all covered in a dull blue colour scheme. There's no sense of organisation to the place other than whatever allows me to get into and out of the room, or to simply crash on the worn upholstery of the third-hand seating to watch the garbage television. It's warm as well, despite the cold, dry weather outside; the joys of a timer switch on a small electric heater and damn the fire risk.

	“Your place is shit, Max,” my 'cargo' slurs before groaning, “huurrgh....sorry, it's.... really, very you.”

	“Sure thing, 'Deece.” I respond. I pretend to not enjoy seeing the poor girl so loose for once instead of the usual relentless and fiery drive. I walk her over to the sofa, turn in place and gently plant her on my favourite spot against the arm-rest. I spin and take a look at her, still shrouded in my coat from the chill outdoors. She's a mouse girl, a Rodere-kind, with white fur and hair; pink hands, tail, nose and ears half-buried in a thick, overgrown bob hairstyle. She looks at me with unfocused pale red eyes behind round glasses as her brain swims in an excess of dark rum.

	'Deece, or Candace, is my oldest friend; she was my neighbour since as far as I remember as a little kid, we went to the same schools together and, while college was a time of separation, we wasted most nights vid-chatting when we should have been studying. Post-graduation life, however, involved a desperate dash for employment that sent us both in different areas for living space, drawing us further apart to opposite sides of town. She got into the restaurant business as a waitress and I meandered about until she found me a job at the same place at a time I was sinking financially after three short lived employments.

	She wears her waiting staff uniform well; a neat black button up shirt with rolled up sleeves exposing her toned, white furred arms with hairless pink hands, black pants cover her long legs and I look down as she kicks off her low heeled shoes, wiggles her clawed toes and her tail twitches about against the floor. Candace looks back at me through lidded eyes behind her skewed, round lensed, frameless glasses and doesn't withhold a belch; I catch a waft of rum from her despite the distance between us.
	'She's all charm' I think to myself. I can't hold back a chuckle.

	“What're you laughing at? Oh, I get it; 'Hey, check out the stupid bitch who can't get a fuckin' promotion'!” Candace throws her arms wide in a grandiose gesture of misguided defiance. I grin as she slumps further down in the seat, seeming to relax a little, before I finally realise her eyes have gone wet. Still inebriated myself, I stagger around the couch, hand pressing against the wall, before moving into a more confident walk over to the kitchen and grab a few napkins I've filched from work. I pass them to her and she sniffles, dabbing her eyes.

	“Fuck Greg, fuck the restaurant and fuck Mr. Jack-off,” Candace says with a quivering voice, “I worked myself to the fuckin' bone for that place! It's not fair!”

	“You can't be too surprised,” I say as I park myself next to her, glad to be on a stable surface, “Greg's been sticking his head so far up Jackson's ass he'll be polishing the back of his teeth with his eyebrows. I know the customers say he's charming, but that fucker has the look of a goddamn sex pest.”

	I put on my best sensationalist TV host voice.

	“'Tonight, on To Catch a Douchebag, Greg learns he's gonna be a prison bitch. Watch as we deep dive on his sexual habits, only to discover his crippling addiction to head-up-ass auto-erotic asphi... “ I stumble a little, my fogged brain struggles for the word but I feel a little pride as it pulls through, “..asphyxiation! Watch in terror as medical experts have to literally pull his head free with butter as lube! Only here, tonight, on To Catch a Douchebag!'”

	I regain my smile, relieved as Candace's sniffles get deflected by a slight giggle. I do my utmost to keep building her up. She's a firework display in mouse form; a lot of work but the results were spectacular and inspiring. I can't help but look into her red eyes through the teary sheen and see she's still wallowing in her frustration, albeit she seems to be getting distracted thanks to the jabs at one of her 'offenders'. I really bore no ill will to Greg and maybe I had a bias, but Candace should have got that promotion.

	“Just gotta keep at it, 'Deece,” I sigh and put a hand on her shoulder and I'm glad she relaxes a little to the touch, “always some asshole in the way. Jackson's gotta respect your drive, though. You didn't stop, you didn't even take a break. I was exhausted by the fifth hour.”

	“Damn lightweight; you need to go train with me,” she says while lazily swatting me on the back of my head, “I'm sure Sensei would let me teach you and you keep saying we need to hang out more out of work. Or, fuck it, just shoot some hoops. You've gotta be fighting fit to get a girl to come swoonin', Max!” I quickly wonder if she's flirting, but I figure she's just trying to push me to be better as always.

	“You already kick my ass on a regular basis, there 'Splintette',” I watch her snicker at the reference, and not for the first time despite it the wrong type of 'Rodere-kind', “I doubt learning karate will change that; you've been doing it for, what, fifteen years? How many damn versions of a black belt have you gone through? That and I don't wanna live in the sewer! Anyway, I'm also not sure I'll be doing much playing basketball against the high school's trophy winning point guard. You just want to boast some more, don't you?”

	She had good reason to; a hat-trick of trophies once adorned her family home when I visited them last before college, and while I haven't been to her apartment, I'm sure they're most likely in a place of prominence. Only reason there weren't four was due to two of the the primary team players moving schools before the senior year. Candace still got them to the finals, and even then it took a mid-game injury, as well as the school nurse almost having to restrain her, to finally make Candace stop. The other players were really good but just outmatched with too much of the game left on the clock; I still remember the tears after the match, with Candace hobbling over onto the court while walking about with one shoe off and her ankle swollen.
	It didn't matter that they had lost; Candace knew they never gave up and she wouldn't let them go out without rousing the crowd into applauding them.

	“Don't need to boast, Max!” Candace says and snapping my hazy memories back to the present. She flexes her arms, and I could never stop myself from admiring the distinct swell of those smooth biceps beneath the fine white fur. Basketball, martial arts and general gym training to burn up that near endless energy really did wonders to her physique; even more impressive considering the definition through her fine pelt.
	“Obviously not enough though....heh mhm-maybe I should open a few buttons, eh?” she says, fiddling with her shirt buttons but she isn't able to muster the dexterity to demonstrate her plan, “maybe I should whore out an' 'climb the corporate ladder'. Maybe start wearing a fuckin' miniskirt.”

	Any imagination of Candace exposing a little more white fur flies out the window as she lets loose a very unpleasant, ominous wet burp. She clutches her short muzzle, accidentally knocking her glasses off and I stand, lifting her up by her armpits and running her through to my bathroom by way of the bedroom. I push her inside and shut the door, wincing as I hear her retch then the sound of splashing and splattering. All I can do is at least hope it's just the water in the toilet bowl and not the tiled floor. Coming down from the rapid motion of dragging her into the bathroom, as well as the sounds within, made me feel queasy.

	“I told you the sixth glass was a bad idea, 'Deece!” I shout, “same with every one since the third!” Sighing again I go and busy myself; a distraction of setting up my bed while she purges her liquid misery. She doesn't respond, I just blank out the sounds of her throwing up within and just pray she's got better aim than balance.
	I hate myself for drinking as much as I did, but I didn't want her drinking alone either; I saw it as another way of bridging the small gap that had formed in the last couple of years. Being a waiter wasn't my first career choice, but after those failed jobs, being with Candace again really made those years seem so lonely and dull.

	A few minutes pass and I eventually listen in again, thankful to hear Candace breathing hard and occasionally coughing, then the sound of tissues being torn off the roll.

	“There's mouthwash on the sink.” I call out. The clicks of several failed attempts to open the squeeze-to-release cap, then the plastic scraping of it being opened, then the distinct sound of swishing and gargling. Finally, the tap runs and I hear the splashing of water. I'm just glad she's responding at that point.
	Moments later, a wet faced Candace opens the door with the smell of mint, followed by the acrid smell of her lingering 'expectorate'. She's got some on her shirt and I can see she's placed a pile of toilet paper around the floor by the lavatory. I shake my head but I'm not that bothered; this isn't normal for her and I appreciate she's a victim of her sorrows, bolstered by the alcohol.

	“I'm sorry, Max,” she whines, hiccups then starts openly weeping, “I didn't mean to make a mess.” I'm taken aback; this was so unlike Candace and it really sunk through the haze at how much everything was affecting her. That making a mess of my bathroom was the final straw is actually kind of sweet, in a strange way.

	“What were you saying about being a lightweight?” I say but my attempt at humour falls flat as she bawls and wipes her cheeks, flattening her whiskers before they spring back out, “Aw, it's alright...come here.” I pull her into a hug. She's still so firm to the touch, solid with distinct and additional muscled curves on her otherwise slight body.

	She's been a fighter since she was a kid, a tearaway who was forced to take karate to teach her discipline ever since she was really young but she also played basketball in high school to try and tame her competitive nature. They were good outlets, but her drive was relentless to the point I'd have to make excuses for her a lot in school. It was alright, though; I cared about her too much and never felt she was a burden. Quite the opposite; I was always slow to do much of anything and she drove me to try and be better.

	I always got a chuckle when I'd talk about Candace, a girl from a species of rodere that are one of the shortest of her kind, playing basketball to anyone else. I didn't mean she's really tall in general or anything although to be truthful, Candace is really tall for her kind. Five feet and eight inches tall is downright amazonian to the typical just below five foot average of her branch of 'Rodere-kind'. She's fiery to a fault and I'm absolutely certain she could kick my ass if we ever came to blows. No idea where she got it from though; both her parents are on the average side, easy-going and timid.
	Their white furred black sheep of her family squeezes me firmly; it's not just her actions here but the culmination of the last few months getting her nowhere, let loose by alcoholic excess, forming the tears soaking my shirt and all I care about is being there for her.

	I can smell Candace's perfume, a floral mix of subtle tones I can't identify, as well as the citrusy product lingering in her overgrown bobbed hair, a brilliant shade of flawless white like the rest of her even through the bitter smell around her. I can't help but rest my chin on her head as she shivers from several sobs and I rub her back, I start enjoying how warm she is to the touch, the light tickle of the finer hairs on her large, round ears against my cheeks. I also feel the warm patch on my shirt as she breathes onto it and I just let her emotionally vent. There's a balance of how trusting she is of me against how upset she is; I kind of hate myself for enjoying the attention with her this torn up inside.

	“Listen. Spend the night here,” I whisper once she begins to calm down, “you can use my bed; I used to sleep on the sofa anyway when I first moved here. It'll be like old times.”

	Candace moves back a little but her head keeps low. I tilt my head down to try and gauge her expression. I watch her glistening red eyes flick up to mine for a brief moment before she pulls me to her short muzzle and forces a heavy kiss on my lips, crude but impactful.
    All I can taste is strong mint but my other senses go haywire; my bourbon fogged brain and thumping heart begin the moral battle of how to respond as my eyes go wide. Her hands have an iron grip on my shirt and she starts pushing me towards the bed. The bittersweet taste of it all; to have a dream arrive in your arms only to have my mind scream that this would ruin everything.

	I'm so damn close to submitting but my decency wins over and I pry her hands off of me, holding her away. She first looks crushed but then gives me the dirtiest look; her tears as gasoline and sparked with her ill timed passion. It's a familiar rage; I don't like being on the receiving end any more than seeing others subjected to it. An anger of being wronged or mistreated even if my intentions were sound; these were the moments where I'd have to cover for her, and this time I was in her sights.

	“Am I not good enough for you either!?” she snarls, “I've seen you looking; fucking undressing me! Now, when I'm fucking GIVING myself to you, you don't want anything to do with me? Am I a fucking joke to you!? You're like everyone fucking else!!” She screams in my face and shoves me back. The purged alcohol giving her a bit more lucidity, but her words are still slurred and she's clearly a ticking time-bomb. She's drunk on the wrong type of courage, but I try my best to calm the situation.

	“Aw, come on! It's not like that, 'Deece....look, just sleep it off and we can talk about it in the morning, I promise!” I say, smiling and trying to approach her with open arms, but her scowl deepens and her prominent front teeth get further exposed. My mind reels at what to do or say and I once more curse how much I had drunk.

	“Oh, and I suppose 'Bitch-Hazel' WAS good enough? Fucking whore sleeping with your cousin and you still forgive her!? Twice! You got fucking burned twice with the same asshole! You're a loser, and I can't fucking believe I ever cared about you! Oh, but what about poor little Candace? She's not girly enough for good ol' Max! She's got 'issues'! She's gonna get herself put in prison without that Max kid! Poor ol' Max, Candace's keeper! Of course I fall for you of all people! I'm just as fucking worthless....I....” Her hands balled into shaking fists and her face stared at the ground, the anger being overwhelmed by worse emotions.

	All those lines were bad memories, I barely remembered them because of how uncomfortable they were, now all tucked away in the corners of my mind, but it all came flooding back; stinging judgements from school counsellors and an old lover who'd taken me for a ride.
	Candace was there for me then, making me laugh at Hazel's flaws; combatting spite with humorous jabs while we insulted the counsellors making sweeping judgements about my mouse friend. All it did was remind me of why I liked her; the flaws just made her extra special to me, a lot like the feel of your favourite chair after sitting on the over-designed perfection of a brand new one.

	“Why does everyone hate me....?” she whimpers through her teeth, shivering. I can't tell if she's about to burst into tears, violence or both.

	“Candace, listen; I don't hate you! I do care! I care, for fuck's sake!” I try and diffuse the situation, rolling out logic and I realise I've let this fester too long without the simple truth, “it's just the drink. That's all it-” I start, but I had my answer to her build-up; she explodes.

	“It's fucking not! Fuck you! I fucking hate you!!” she screams and pulls back an arm. I brace for a slap, raising my arms to either side of my face, only to receive a straight punch to the jaw; it snapped my head back and I stagger a few steps. We both draw silent and still, her face twisting to shock and regret but that spark of fire again; she can't quit now as it's just not in her nature.
	I've had enough; I walk away and close the door behind me without a second look. I hold the door handle, and once more ignore the sounds out of sight; more enraged screaming punctuated with the sound of a broken lamp, then she twists the handle, retreating and then the shearing of fabric.

	The tone changes after a few moments; savage crying giving way to pleading and begging for me to go back in but I block out the words. The door handle stops jiggling and I wait a few minutes before moving away. As much as I wish I could go in and reassure her, even my anger is flaring at this point; I'd be just as likely to provoke another punch as I would to settle things back down.

	It would be easy to accuse her of overreacting but I knew she had been pushing for that promotion; overtime, extended hours and even working when nursing a really bad ankle. She had worked harder than I've ever seen for several months leading up to the holiday season with that endless energy of hers, especially for the sake of a simple waitress job; typical of her, no half-measures. Candace was capable of such far reaching extremes and this night was no different. The fact she continued to get strong tips, amazing customer feedback and more despite the strain she was under was just one of those reasons I admired her.
	The drink fuelled outburst hurt in mind, heart and body though, giving me a better sense of sobriety as I move to the sofa. I catch a flicker of reflected light on the floor; Candace's glasses. I can't help but look through the lenses; they're not that strong but they really do highlight the rose-red colour of her eyes.

	Those big red eyes. All of that fire, the warm, nurturing girl who used to stick up for me and so many others in school at a risk to herself; bullies were terrified of her willingness to fight back instead of the usual social crap school tended to breed. Candace would always pull me to and fro; adventure, trouble and fun with a willingness to throw herself in the way of harm to help those she cared for and I felt so much better about who I was when she was near me.

	Those same red eyes. All of that fire with the spite and spitting rage. It didn't happen often, usually just verbal pokes and actual half-hearted jabs, but at her worst she would explode just like today; her inhibitions softened after drinking to try and forget months of seemingly pointless extra work. Candace had a reputation, one I frequently had to attempt to smooth over. People would ask why I put up with it, why I would protect her from retribution. I once struggled to answer many years ago and I hated the fact that right now was no exception.

	Why did I put up with her?
	I hated myself for not being able to counter that thought right now. I should know why, but the bourbon fog was impenetrable with this lingering frustration.

	I ignore the ache on my jaw and, after placing the glasses onto my kitchen work-surface, sit on the sofa. I place my phone and keys on the table then settle down, wrapping my coat over me; it still smells a little of her flowery perfume. Sleep comes surprisingly easy, if only after the sounds from my bedroom completely subside and I can only hope she's better in the morning.

	The feel of her fine fur; I can still feel it. I see her smile and hear her goofy laugh. I can feel her in my arms again....her hand and mine clasped. It was offered, helping me up.
	I feel my ribs hurting; a bully had kicked me in the chest after one of his lackeys tripped me over. I had been threatened entering high school, and Candace threw her usual crude wit at them. They didn't want anything to do with her; she was too volatile, loud and drew attention from the teachers, but to me she was just being colourful as always.

	I remember the gloating; them taunting me for having a girl protect me. I lashed out once when I was much younger and nearly got expelled as a kid, making me afraid of doing it again. As always, she was there to pick up the slack. That moment we had separate classes before lunch; it was the perfect moment for them to strike.
	It was, as always, amazing to see her as she grasped the lead bully's shoulder and spun him to face her. An expertly thrown pink fist striking his face, a demonstration of years of self defence used to save me against a group of five. Yet that was all it took; both to deter the other bullies and to fracture the leaders nose so badly it was still crooked to this day. So much blood poured from his face it took the janitor hours to clear it all.

	Then that hand on mine; that white furred face smiling down at me, pulling me to my feet before the teachers dragged us all in, questions thrown about who to blame and who instigated what. Every moment she took the fall, but insisting I get sent to the nurses office despite the teachers' accusations she was ignoring them, all because of my wheezing and whimpering; my cracked rib and the bully's broken nose got us both sent to hospital and Candace didn't care about what happened to her. She just smiled and waved as my parents drove me away from school for treatment.
	That smile, wishing me well but so clearly tinged with worry; that was it, the moment I realised what she meant to me, moving into the distance. So far away then...and now.

	That's why you put up with it, Max, you fucking idiot. Candace is worth it. You just need to...

	I awaken with a start; the sound of my phone buzzing on the foot-rest worn wooden table sends a shiver up my spine. I panic, slapping the thing onto the floor and desperately try to grab it. The fear subsides a little as the slow rise of gentle music is now audible. It's my alarm for yesterday's shift; I'd forgotten to turn it off. Six hours of sleep will have to do and I'm thankful for being one of those fortunate few that never seem to suffer from a hangover. All the same, I groan as my mouth tastes bitter and I have awful cotton-mouth.

	Sitting up and stretching, my back clicks and pops from the uncomfortable sleeping position. Even worse though is the need to use the toilet, which meant braving Candace. At this point she was Schroedinger's mouse; a redeemed friend, a jilted wannabe lover or a hateful and betrayed co-worker all at once. Sadly, my bladder wasn't to be ignored. I slipped my phone into my pocket and planted my feet on the ground.

	Standing wasn't difficult, although I felt a little uneasy on my feet all the same. Regrets were many and forthcoming; not drinking a glass of water before sleeping or eating something before drinking. The most drastic one was how I could have handled Candace better, my last words to her weren't phrased right and I used them too late, when her emotions were at a peak, but I console myself by at least guzzling water from the tap; one out of three regrets will have to do. I sigh with relief at the hydration and tip-toe to my bedroom door. I grip the handle for a moment, then another with my lacking courage before finally opening it as softly as I could.
	Within was a scene I had anticipated; the broken lamp against the wall by the door, the bedspread thrown about and torn with her claws in her manic rage.

	Laying atop the exposed mattress, covered in a mix of blankets and towels scavenged from a nearby open drawer, was Candace. She was sleeping, tail slowly twitching against her leg; a subtle snore the only sound I could hear. I looked at her for a few moments, wondering what would have happened if I had conceded, if I went to the bed with her. I shrug and move through to the bathroom, wincing as I caught a waft of the uncleared vomit wrinkling my nose, and locked the door behind me.

	I do my business and then spent a few minutes cleaning the room, wiping up the mess and using what few cleaning supplies I have here instead of the chemicals I have in the kitchen. Running the taps as slow as possible, I give myself a quick wash and brush my teeth; I dared not use the shower in case of waking Candace. I notice the dark bruise on my jawline from the punch from the previous night in the mirror. Probably just as well she didn't really lay into the swing, considering what she's done to people before with those little fists. Finally, I pocket some medication for when Candace awakens with a hangover as fierce as her mood from last night; some fancy named brand with ibuprofen and caffeine.
	With my hygiene and the worst of the mess dealt with, I opened the door to leave. I gasp and almost jump out of my skin as I see her sitting up, dishevelled and sullen. She stares at her feet and I simply watch her for a while, afraid of what her mood may be.

	“C-can I have some water, please?” she rasps after a minute. Any other time I'd be chuckling; one of her large, round ears was inverted and her hair was sticking all over the place. Frankly I didn't feel like making any bold moves, so I chose a sensible one.

	“Sure. Do you want breakfast?” I say, but then shake my head and decide to make it a rhetorical question, “I'm not letting you leave until you've eaten, showered and let me wash those clothes.”

	“Don't! I'll just go...” she says as she started dragging herself off of the bed, “I'll pay you back for everything.” I'd never seen her so downtrodden but I was wary of making her feel pitied. She was also moving slowly, and as much as I hated the idea, I went on the offensive.

	I moved quickly back into the main room of my apartment ahead of Candace. Collecting my coat and hiding it, kicking Candace's shoes in two different corners of the room and I manage to place her glasses in an overhead cabinet as she finally drags herself from my bedroom.

	“I'm not letting you leave by yourself, Candace,” I say calmly, “I'm not leaving this apartment to escort you either, and it's still like....what, two degrees above freezing outside? No, you're not borrowing my coat, you have no money for cab fare OR the bus and you live five miles away. Just chill out on the couch, I'll get you some water, some meds for your head, and cook a couple of omelettes. Besides, we need to talk.”

	“Fuck off, Max. You made it fucking clear last night you don't care. I thought we had something! I thought... thought you....” Candace trailed off and my heart felt like it clenched as she fought off the corners of her mouth flickering down; the edge of crying. Candace began roaming the room, looking for her things and back to me.

	“Please, Candace! I don't know what you remember about last night, but we just need to talk.” I plead, “I don't care what you do to me, but I won't let you leave. I don't know what you're gonna do to yourself if we don't just clear the air. I can't let you....I mean, I....” As quick on my feet as I may have been delaying her attempt to leave, the words I need to truly stop her escape me.
	It takes the long silence looking at each other to realise I need to stop treating her as anything more than my friend; something concrete, something completely petty that would earn a reaction. I had a plan, or at least I hoped it was a plan.

	“You know what, Candy? Whatever, leave if you want to.” I say and turned away, looking out the window. I could feel the daggers being stared into my back.

	“The fuck did you just call me?” she growled. As much as I didn't want to twist the knife, I wanted her focused on me, not the door. An old nickname that she suddenly turned against when she hit her teens. Candace didn't want to be called a 'cheerleader' name. It worked perfectly, now I just had to deal with the fallout. I wish I had this clarity last night, but now was time for a comeback.

	“What's that, Candy? Oh, sorry, Candy. I forgot. Please don't beat me up again, Candy.” I hold my courage and keep my dismissive tone. I was poking a snake in the face with my finger, albeit one that felt guilty at biting me already. I could picture her face twisting as the guilt cut in front of her usual petty anger at the name.

	“That's... gah! I.... oh, come on. I was drunk! I wasn't thinking straight.” She tried to sound as mad as ever, but the reality of last night was clearly sinking in; she wasn't as loud and the hostility was waning. It gave me the excuse to stop being as mean so I relaxed, easing off on the provocation and bringing the conversation somewhere a bit closer to heart.

	“I've never seen you cry like that. Well, not since you were a little kid.” I say, turning back to her. Candace was still standing with fists clenched, but her presence was shrinking by the second.

	“That's not... I didn't mean to make a mess.” She says in a low, tired tone; the fire was all but burnt out in her.

	“I know, and this isn't about that. Hell, you even apologised for that, and I'm grateful, but...look, I'm sorry about poking like that, but you'll feel better if you stay here. Take a seat and we'll talk this out, okay? Please.” I smile at her as warmly as I could, but she still saw everything as a threat by the troubled expression on her face.
	Candace seemed to tense up as if trying to force that pride and anger to the fore until her shoulders slumped and she obeyed with a sigh. She collapses on the sofa and I can't help but sigh as well, albeit with relief. That was one battle over, at least, but I knew Candace too well to assume the war was won.

	I couldn't help but watch her for a while as I run a glass under the tap, as if she would suddenly make a run for the door. Water overflowed onto my hand for a while before I shut it off. I was struggling to read her; she wasn't doing anything. Candace sat bolt rigid as if she was doing her hardest to not exist, as if the moment she said anything or moved a muscle she would erupt or explode and drag the world with her.
	I guess at this moment maybe that wasn't far from the truth. She flinched as I placed the glass in front of her and pour out a couple of pills next to it. I cleared my throat and activated my work-mode of talking

	“So, ma'am, let me see...cheddar cheese, broccoli, chives and a little over with the salt? How's my memory? Sadly the broccoli will have to be that microwave 'steam in the bag' stuff.” I'm seeking some breakthrough but she still doesn't move.

	“Why? I don't deserve it.” she says, flat in tone. I can't answer, I don't understand the question. She raises her voice but still doesn't move. “I drag you out drinking and make you pay for basically all of it, I get wasted, I throw up all over your bathroom, I....hit you...tried to force myself on you!” she buries her snout into her hands, compressing her whiskers down, “I ruined your room. Now you're cooking me breakfast?”

	“Oh. Yes. Yes I am,” I say, matter of factly and shrug as I head to the fridge, collecting the ingredients, “you might want to take a shower real quick, by the way, you still stink of vomit.”

	“Why? Answer the fucking....*cough*” she finally grabs the water and pills, knocking both back in a series of hard gulps. I don't even flinch when the glass strikes the table a little too hard; Candace being Candace, she's on the warpath again but she should be easier to deal with in maybe half an hour at worst. I focus on the click of the stovetop, the hiss of the gas and the low thump of the flame catching.

	“Stop ignoring me!” I hear Candace stand. It's enough to make me stop reaching for the kitchen knife, although I still retrieve the chopping board. I put everything down just in time for her hand to grab my arm and she throws herself into spinning me about. I don't resist; I turn and press my back against the worktop and fold my arms in defiance.

	“I'm not ignoring you but you need to stop and think. You need to understand you already know the answer to the question, hell, you already listed what you did last night, but I know you won't say it; it's because we're friends, and that's what we do, forgive and forget, but I'm not gonna just drop how you acted! You need to understand that you've admitted to the stuff you've done but that doesn't make it right. It was fucking wrong, Candace!”

	“I said I'd pay for it!” She huffed.

	“It's not about the money! I still owe you a hundred for spotting me for rent. Fifty'll cover the lamp, the booze and whatever else and I'm still in the red. That's not the problem. Do I really need to spell it out? Fine; You nearly fucked up US! Everything we've been through.” More than anything, the thought of losing her because of either of our mistakes was too much to even consider

	Her fine whiskers and round ears twitch a little and she seems to stop her rapidly developing, and furious, second wind. Her face moves in long, slow changes from anger, confusion then realisation. Then Candace drives her forehead towards my chest.
	For a moment I thought she was actually striking me, but then her arms wrap around me as her face matches the place she'd put it the night before, and she just silently holds me. I'm a bit shocked, it takes me a while to return the gesture. As soon as my arms touch her, I feel her tense back slacken a little. It's over, I think to myself, and I couldn't be more glad. Or I hope it is.

	“You're an asshole, Max.” She mumbles.

	“Yep. And?” I can feel her hands stroking my back. I realise she's finally okay and the sensation makes me smile. She's just being Candace; I wouldn't want her any other way.

	“You're a pansy, you're soft and you're really fucking annoying when you're right.”

	“Guilty as charged. Keep going, 'Deece,” I say and pat her on the head, ruffling her round ears, and she twists she can look me in the eye; she gives me a predictable, fierce squint at the condescension but she's not angry, “you're nearly there.... alright, sometime this week? Ow!” she retracts a hand and half-heartedly punches me in the shoulder. I count myself lucky.

	“Fine! I'm...” she starts but her stiff tone's seems to surprise even herself. She stops, pulling back slightly and bowing her head. I started craning my head down to look at her expression, suddenly realising the last time we did this I received that dangerous kiss. I was glad to see her just look me in the eye, although we were still intimately close enough to make us both a little embarrassed. Her eyes goes to my jaw, at the bruise. She winces and her round ears flatten; she looks like she wants the world to swallow her to cover her shame.

	“I'm sorry, Max,” she says, calm and heartfelt, “I was stupid and I hurt you when you were just trying to help...no, protect me. But I meant it! I really did! The kiss, I mean. I was desperate for validation I guess; to have someone who gave a shit when you already did, and I know you've always had my back but I know you're not great at making big gestures, but I still meant that ki-mmph!!”
	I plant my lips on hers and I wonder if she'll call me a hypocrite, but as far as I was concerned, turnabout's fair play and I unbottle everything I held back with that kiss last night. I just hope the meaning isn't lost on her; it wasn't what she did but why; I couldn't take her desperation and abuse it like that or let her use it as an excuse to have her way. We had to come together as equals.

	I slide my fingers over her shoulders, feeling their firmness, and pull her against me. Her eyes go wide and her hands moved to grab my own before she reciprocates and placing them on my cheeks and we both just close our eyes. It was years in the making; the teasing, the supporting, the highs and lows. All the strain and anger meant little at this point, this was the moment that I hoped everything would change.

	My tongue gently reaches in, beyond her prominent teeth, and glances against her own and I earn a light push back. The strong taste of mint was still prevalent but the senses I focused on were those of her relaxing against me; my heart seem to stop for a moment. It could have stayed that way and I would have had few regrets.
	All too soon, we pull back from each other and just stare. This wasn't over; there were still things to talk about. The hiss of the stovetop also made me remember my demand to see to Candace's needs; her hunger, I tell myself, and not the other thoughts currently floating through my mind, the hopes of what this day might bring after I felt her body against mine.

	“Um... so, uh... I'll... heh, okay....you've changed, Max. Shit, where'd that shy kid go?” she says with a pink hue on her fuzzy cheeks. I'd never seen her lost for words, blushing so strongly or looking so beautiful before; the soft smile on her face could inspire a poet. I feel a need to commit her face to memory as I smile back at her.
	I could witness her smiling and the subtle twitch of her cute, pink nose, the splayed whiskers flickering in subtle motions or the fact her blush was extending and deepening the pink of her inner of her ears every day and never grow tired of it. Once more she was a firework display, only in this form it was the deep warmth by the bonfire against the chill of the world outside; the joy of togetherness and watching skyward, the world below forgotten.
	Then she shoves herself away and that playful spirit came back in force; softness replaced with a wry grin and that absurd attitude.

	“I'm starving here, Max. Get your ass in gear!” She chimes and leaps over the sofa, landing with an energetic thump on that fine ass of hers, tail slinking behind the backrest. I wanted to punch the air and cheer at seeing her revitalised. I settle for a deft tap of eggs on the edge of the mixing bowl, prying them apart between my thumb and middle finger before discarding the shells.

	“Right away, 'Deece. Tell you what; I'll make yours second so you can take a shower, help yourself to the shampoo and bodywash. Borrow some clothes from the second drawer down. If you're not out here by the time I finish making it, I'm eating yours too.” I dash salt and grind pepper into the eggs and pluck some chives from a small herb garden on my windowsill.

	“Ah, I see where this is going! 'Let's make out, Candace, but only after you smell like me! It's the only way I can get off,'” she says, mocking my voice and probably grinning ear to ear but I was busy beating the eggs and seasoning in the bowl, then I start grating cheese,
“Fucking egotist. Maybe you should get a mirror to hang above your bed, you know, so you can jerk off to yourself?”

	“Omelette E.T.A. in ten minutes! I'm hungry for two of these, I'm warning you!” I chuckle, ignoring her but smiling all the same. There was the sound of her running off into my bedroom as I throw a knob of butter into the pan and earn a satisfying sizzle. I could have had this all done in less time than it took for her to stop being a pain in the ass and let her shower at her own leisure, but it was an empty threat to get her moving all the same.

	I cook in an almost meditative fashion; coating the pan in the butter, pouring the egg mixture in. I quickly throw a frozen broccoli floret pouch into the microwave and chop the chives before attending the omelette again, shifting of the cooked edges with a spatula inward and watching the liquid egg solidify and connect; the smell makes my mouth water.
	I hear to the sound of the shower running and nod to myself, relieved things were coming together. We're both going to have the same ingredients I picked for Candace's omelette; the microwave beeps as it finishes, I collect the florets and as soon as the surface has no liquid, I cast half the filling mix in and fold it over.

	A few moments, a deft flip with the spatula and one more minute more on the heat, I slide the omelette onto a plate and keep it to one side. I'm happy enough to eat it cold, however long it took for Candace to finish and join me.
	The moment I heard the water shut off, I immediately started her omelette. By the time I'd repeated the process and cast in the filling, I heard the patter of her footsteps behind me and the waft of my sporty bodywash.

	“Ah, that smells good!” she almost sang the words. I look at her and snort, barely holding back a laugh; she's wearing a t-shirt that's too big for me and it dwarfs her; what are normally elbow length sleeves are halfway down her forearms and the hem reaches just above her knees. This earns me a well deserved poke in the ribs, but then I notice I can't see what she's wearing anything beneath it; boxers or briefs, I wonder? Or... oh. Could she...?
	I would pinch myself but I suspected I would be earning more jabs and pokes before the morning was up; it was fun playing with her like this after the tension but was this actually happening? I had to swallow before I started drooling and felt a stiffness developing...
	Candace interrupts my thoughts, wagging a finger to my hip-ward stare to bring my eyes to hers and she's beaming a knowing grin, round ears and whiskers at full perkiness. Goddamn it, Candace is such a treat on the eyes and she's picked the worst t-shirt for letting me take in her form yet she's teasing me with it all the same.

	“Hmm, are you undressing me again? Shouldn't be too hard; I might fall out of this if I'm not careful.” she says in a suggestive tone and pulls the neck of the t-shirt over a bare shoulder. I can even see part of her pectorals, the slow rise from it of her breasts.

	My face flushes and I force my attention back to the pan. I flip it, give it another minute, plate it and deliver it to Candace, who had moved to sitting back on the sofa, tail and hips moving in an eye-catching sashay that didn't quite lift the shirt enough to give me the answer I hoped for. I go to retrieve my cooling food and collect her glasses from the overhead cabinet. I head over, opening the temples with my mouth and place the spectacles on her cute muzzle. Candace almost doesn't respond as she digs into the simple fare; just a slight adjustment to their position without even taking her eyes off the plate. It's as good a compliment as any and we sit next to each other to quietly eat breakfast.

	The solid flavour of the omelette, with the blend of onion and garlic hints from the chive, the fibrous texture of the broccoli and the strong sharpness of the cheddar cutting in is a little dampened by the overly salty tinge; my own fault for seasoning it all in one batch, but just sitting close enough to Candace to feel warmth of her makes it the most fulfilling food I've eaten in years. I can't help but wonder what this all means, either; can we really make something of this? I love her, but does she actually love me back? Is this going to be a casual thing?
	Either she has a read on me, or maybe it's by sheer coincidence, but she rests her head on my shoulder. I look at her expression, she's smiling through every forkful of her breakfast, closing her eyes for each bite and savouring it. Candace looks so happy that it makes me feed from it in return, a sense of pride that I've made her feel so good. The two extremes, her utter sorrow last night and now this utter joy. Her eyes open and look at me, catching my stare.

	“Whot?” Candace says with a half-chewed mouthful. I'm still stuck wondering how to approach her; sure, things felt normal, but the words I wanted to say were not. I open my mouth a few times to start yet nothing comes out, and things get only more and more awkward. Candace swallows and snorts into a laugh.

	“Holy shit, Max, you look like a fucking goldfish. Spit it out, already!” she giggles.

	“I....can't, 'Deece,” I say as I rest my plate on my knees, “I'm....I'm afraid I'll screw things up. I don't want to drag things back to how they were last night or even just half an hour ago.” This could all be a huge mistake and the doubts cause my stomach to hurt from the increasing tension.

	“Yeah, well, I'm not drunk and only a little hung over, so go ahead and...I mean, say what you...” Candace starts, but stammers to silence as well; what a pair we were, “I've already screwed up, so....it's your turn, right? C'mon, you fucking suck my face for a clear minute and now you jam up?”

	“I'm just worried things will change too much, and too soon.” I quickly polish off the rest of my food and put the plate on the table. Candace does the same, stacking the plates together; the silence amplifying the sound of clattering ceramic and steel.

	“I mean, things don't have to change or anything,” Candace says, “but...after last night...and today. I was hoping maybe things kinda would. I really hope they do, because....um...” she muttered under her breath for a moment.

	We simply looked at each other for a while, awkward smiles and an old, familiar connection reforming; stronger and greater. Maybe it would be alright after all.

	“I know I'm not an easy person to deal with. I get that,” she sighs, scratching her arm and looking a bit unsure, “but you always brought out the best in me, you know? You knew where my limits were, and you'd let me run free when others thought I was acting out. I sometimes thought you were afraid of me...”

	“Can I make a confession? I was, and I-I still am, I guess. You're a firebrand; it's amazing what you do sometimes, but I'm always worried you'll get yourself into serious trouble and I won't be able to do anything about it. If anything happened to you, I...” I leave it unsaid as her hand slides under mine, fingers interlocking. It's so warm with the subtle interplay of her smooth skin and the silky furred forearm. I can't tell what I preferred more; the feel of her tongue of just the touch of her hand on mine.

	“I guess we've been saving each other from ourselves for a while, huh?” Candace says, eyes gliding between the floor and my own, “I don't know how this all works... how we make something of this.”

	“I guess we just take it a step at a time.” I shrug and squeeze her hand, receiving the same in return.

	This moment. I'll always remember it and cherish it.
	Right up until Candace upturns the huge t-shirt from her body and covers my head with it. We break contact and she breaks into a hearty laugh. I try and find an opening, pulling and tugging around until I finally break free.

	“Oh...” I gasp. It's all I can manage.

	Candace is completely naked. Her small, firm breasts and stiff pink nipples catch my gaze first and foremost, then I become aware she's got a wrapped condom between her smirking teeth, stolen from my bedroom drawer. I can't help it as my eyes roam her body; even through her mostly dried, slightly puffier fur, the slight curves given greater detail from her toned physique. There's the subtle tense of her abdominals as she reaches up and pushes me onto my back. She plucks the condom from her mouth and presses it into my chest as she mounts me. I know she can feel my erection through my trousers; she even flicks her eyes down for a moment before she leans in close to my face.

	“I mean, steps are relative, right?” she whispers and I feel her tail tapping against my legs, “all I want to do is take them with you. Every single one. It'll be a hell of a first step.” I struggle to break free from my stupor; I sit there and stare into her eyes, taking in the fine details of the deep, bright reddish pink and the feel of her body pressed against mine. It's intoxicating, but once more I have to play the sensible one of our special and long lasting partnership.

	“Are you sure? I mean, after last night....” I start to say before she kisses me again. I lean forward to maintain it as she tries to pull back and speak. We both wince a little; the lingering taste of egg and chive is never a pleasant one beyond the first time through, and the combination of pungent flavours should put a dampener on things; but beyond a funny look from her, and my own face twisting, we both just smile. I don't need the response, but she insists as she looks down at me, that warmth in her red eyes in full glory.

	“I was wrong then, I know...but after you returned the favour? It's clear, Max. Crystal clear. I just can't believe it's taken me this long to act on it. Kinda feels like it was always meant to be us.”

	I bring my hands onto her body, feeling those tight and fine muscles beneath her pelt. I've always wanted to feel her this way, ever since watching her in school; the warrior fighting on the court and the subtle flexing of her arms and legs in the jersey and shorts. If this is a dream, it's malicious and cruel; if I wake up now then I'd have to hit the bottle again to make up for it.
	But it never happens. Candace smiles as I slowly stroke her body, run a hand between the hard sections of her abs, up to the softness of her chest. She sighs and rests her hands over mine.

	“Glad you're enjoying my hard work, Max. I'm ready...I mean, are you...um,” she looks bashful, stumbling over her words and she's oddly nervous, “you know what you're doing, r-right? Um....be a man and take charge!”

	I ignore the nerves, hers and mine, and obey as I pinch the condom pack in my teeth. Her eyes flick around as I sit up, plant my feet on the floor and lift her over my shoulder like a hunter hauling his catch. It's a hell of a catch and I can't wait to get my hand on more of her, to feast on her.
	There's a moment of imbalance, I nearly drop her and fall backwards, and an awkward laugh between us as we both stop dead to correct. I secure my hand around her hips and can't resist giving her firm backside a squeeze and run my hand along her wiry tail.
	Candace responds by slapping my ass in her usual unrestrained way. The sting is potent, but it just makes me move quicker as I carry her into the bedroom.

	I feel powerful as I bring her to the bed and throw her onto the mattress, She bounces on it and once more I see her flush in the face, a shyness that's so unusual to her; all the while, though, she watches me pull my shirt over my head and unbuckle my belt with a focused gaze, As I start removing my boxers and my cock comes into view, her eyes grow wider and she nibbles on her lip; it's hard to read her expression.

	Frankly, at this point, I'm set on my course, a wrapper discarded and I slide the sheathe on my dick. Candace seems to shrink as I start climbing onto the bed; her arms and legs coming close to her body, making her look defensive and vulnerable. It finally breaks through the determination I feel.

	“'Deece, what's wrong? Look, if you don't feel ready, it's fine; we'll take it nice and steady. Really, I want you to be comfortable. Anything you want. I'd be happy with just snuggling if that's what you're after.” I settle down next to her and place a gentle hand on her shoulder. I was a bit foolish to assume it would all come together so easily, but I tried to hide my disappointment. Candace's blush strengthens again to the point the pink of her round ears turns red and she struggles to look me in the eye.

	“Yes..uh, I mean n-no! It's....it's just been a while, that's all,” she speaks in a panicky tone. I can't quite work it out, whether because of being given the gift of Candace is dumbfounding me or I'm just being flat dumb; all I can think of is her old boyfriend from the time I went out with Hazel and how lucky that bastard was.
	He was an okay guy, but I never understood what she saw in him; a bit of a jock, not even an especially good athlete but he lacked the brains for much else. It didn't last long either; about three weeks, ending around the same time as my own relationship.

	“We can take this slow then. I'll never get bored of the look of you... the feel...” I punctuate the words and slide my hand over her belly and gently ruffle the fur. Candace stammers a little but can't find any words yet she smiles regardless. I slowly lean over her, planting a kiss as my hands gently caressing her body and she seems to relax a little more each passing moment. I'm still getting used to the taste, but it's getting easier.
	Considering her earlier aggression, I guess I just figured she was ready from the outset, but clearly she wants...no, deserves the extra attention.

	I run my hands over her body for a few more passes, slowly running my fingertips along the grooves and subtle flow of her form. The soft, fluffy pelt mixing with the firmness beneath is heavenly; I have to stop myself from just taking her in for my own pleasure.
	I move my hands to her thighs and slowly stroke them, squeezing and caressing. The flex of them, they're strongest part of her from endless running, jumping and the stance work of her martial arts, and she finally lets out a low moan; a final show she's getting into it. It all feels so right and sends a shiver down my spine, sparking a confession I've always wanted to tell her.

	“Hm... anyone ever tell you how sexy you are, Candace?” I say softly, “you keep saying how I undress you a lot with my eyes, but can you blame me? I mean look at you; that power, the curves on curves; you should be carved from marble. People can talk skinny women all day; playboy shit and cowards who can't take real woman like you.”

	Candace bites her lip again as my fingers coax ever so slowly higher on her legs. A few close calls before I run two fingers along the outer folds, tracing two lines on her labia; she offers a soft gasp as she squirms ever so slowly. Once more I decide she deserves every pleasure I can give her. She deserves it; she deserved it before, she deserves it now and I'll always want to please her.
Her hands slowly join in the revelry of her body; a hand cups one of her firm breasts and the other runs up and down her side. I slowly adjust position, one of her legs between mine, and lean close, face to face.

	“Candace, you're amazing.” I say softly and she smiles, eyes glistening, lidding slightly as her breathing quickens and her whiskers twitch. I slowly take her glasses off and place them on the bedside cabinet.

	Her hand moves, wrapping around the back of my head. Her clawed fingers combing through my hair as we once more kiss deeply. I'm relieved to find her probing tongue on the offensive this time and we ignore, hell, we once more enjoy the taste of each other despite the lurking flavour.
	I start teasing a hand around her folds again and the short moan she gives makes me smile. A woman of such power is struck weak by her shy, childhood friend and a few fingers. I can't wait for the rebuttal, even if it doesn't arrive today; I'm more than happy to provide everything she could ever desire for the here and now. This was everything I've ever wanted and she was responding in such a gentle way it almost made it exotic against her usually brazen nature.

	“Max...” she whispers, just the simple mention makes my head spin as her breath brushes the fine stubble on my cheek; I'm everything to her right now and it makes every moment I'm not indulging in her worth every damn second. I don't relent; my fingers tease from top to bottom and back again around her slowly parting folds. Eventually I let my finger dance a gentle pass around the hood of her waking clitoris and I feel her shiver. The wetness is building nicely, so I finish the slow mounting of this goddess of white fur beneath me. Her hips lift as if to receive me, but I refuse to cheapen anything. Not after all this waiting.

	I just have to drink her in again to regain a full readiness; I look over the fine detail of her form once more and slowly press my tip against her gentle petals. A gentle whimper and I slowly press my lips against her neck, her cheeks, the occasional meeting of her own mouth and mine as my shaft teases her opening below. I want her so badly, but I hold on; I have to, this has to make this 'that day' for her, one she'll remember for all the right reasons or I'll count it as a failure.

	Our hands meet over her firm mounds; my fingers tease her nipples and her hand grasps mine. We stare each other in the eyes for a moment as her eyes droop, lidding over and that smile once more affirming that she's enjoying every moment; I kiss her fingers in return. The ache I feel in my heart is staggering; how I adore this woman, a strange selfishness as her clear adoration back makes me take the final plunge.

	I lift myself, caress her cheek, then slowly insert myself. She gasps and her head pushes against the pillow.
The bashful nature of Candace's behaviour since we started made me worry about hitting her   'wall', but instead I slowly slide in gradual, rhythmical and gentle pushes unimpeded. I can't help but wonder if I'm disappointed that she's been with another, but I shove that thought away; this is Candace, and it doesn't matter. I adore this woman no matter what my slow, stupid younger self thought and wasted his time not devoting himself to her. All that mattered was now.

	It's a final relief we're on the same page as Candace bucks her hips again and forces me deeper within, although she gives a pained grunt in response; it's never like they show it in fiction. I slowly adjust my position, shifting my hips. It's a tense few moments as we try and make each other perfect, slow adjustments and the odd awkward grunt and sigh. Her muscles clenching as she wiggles about on the bed and my own rocking on my knees before with one last push, we meet our hips for the first time.

	To be so joined, this imperfect pair, and yet it is everything we could ask for, both in my mind and the wide-eyed stare and slack jawed smile on her muzzle. A revelation found, a religion of each other and a final step for both of us as we cross the threshold as one, as we must have both dreamed.

	“Ah! Yeh.....yes!” Candace finally cries out and I smile ear-to-ear back. The tightness of her as she yields to me; it stuns me to stillness and we remain for a few moments, where even the slightest movements from me yield small twitches from her whiskers. I lean down and kiss her neck, brush a hand across her muzzle and I raise myself from her.

	With a slow push back down and another long gasp from Candace, we begin to settle into a growing pace. Her hands reach around my back and I hiss a little as her little claws rake against it but every other sense makes a mockery of such pain. More tellingly, as I lift a knee again to stop myself sliding too low, Candace moves her own leg out from beneath me me and raises it against my side, parting herself further. I wrap an arm around the toned appendage and push back in to an excited squeal and her hands press again into the mattress, the sound of claw on the durable material shouldn't be a good one, yet it is; a scratching show of her rising pleasure.

	Her teeth shine in the morning winter sun, the glistening smile as her eyes once more focus on my own as we both make the oddest, most loving sounds together; gasps, groans and grunts shouldn't be this endearing. The feel of her around my manhood is the greatest sensation I've ever felt, to finally be with her in every part. Nothing could be better as she hooks her raised leg around my back and pulls me against her.

	I feel that pressure rising within, that moment of finality to everything, but I can't let this stop. I keep within her and pause, teasing a finger against her hooded clitoris; a smooth figure eight around the region and a light brush on the engorged tip itself. Candace's mouse heritage reveals itself in the cutest way, despite the carnal nature of it all; a high squeak that if I'd heard from anyone else or at any other time, it would have ruined the moment and made it funny.

	Instead I feel her tense up and clench her teeth; she cries out and writhes as a deeper warmth coats my covered shaft. Her smile broadens and her eyes roll back. It was all I needed; I pump a few times, hard and fast, growling out and reach an orgasm while deep within her.
	The moment feels bittersweet in its brevity. All I know is she gasps and pants for air while we once more stare each other in the eye, and I slowly collapse onto her. Candace's arms squeeze my neck and I slide beside her on the towel she had been using as a sheet last night.

	“Max....jesus....just....fuck, Max.” she whimpers in staggered words in a joyous tone. We finally settle in together, arms and legs entwined and I do manage a soft chuckle as her tail coils around my calf.
	I slowly go to pull out, but she won't let me go. Even as I begin to soften within her, she grins and gives me a classic look of toying mockery and beaming confidence.

	“Nuh uh, Max. Don't....you wouldn't let me go, and I'm returning the fucking favour!” Candace smirks and I again see that naivete. All that nervous, coy behaviour. I refuse to believe it was all just an act now.

	“There wouldn't be much point me wearing protection if you wanna risk some spill when it falls off in you.” I say; I hate to break the mood with facts but that really would have ruined things. She releases her hold, I pull out and deal with the messy business, removal and disposal, before resuming the utter joy of cuddling with Candace, the tickle of her fur on my body will never get boring. It takes a few moments to settle back in but we both once more enjoy such simple, sweet contact.

	“I, uh... was worried for a second there that....you weren't...that I would hurt you, I mean. That you hadn't been with someone.” I whisper.

	The bravado was cut dead for a moment and she once more looked sheepish, although she was smiling all the same.

	“Um... I haven't? Score one for you, I guess? Is that still a thing?” she's smiling but it's clear she's worried about what I think.

	We have a stare; I'm still a little shocked at it all despite the evidence, then she rolls her eyes.

	“Oh, piss off, Max. I've worked out for years; did some gymnastics and such. One time I went a bit too far....I uh...had a tear, some pain and bleeding. I panicked and went to a hospital.”

	“Huh? Oh....Oohhhh!” I utter, it's my turn to blush, “Okay, 'Deece....shit. We're a pair of dumbasses.”

	“Hah, yeah....we really are. But you're a wonderful idiot. You're MY idiot.” Candace chirps and we kiss for what feels like minutes.

	I can't help but feel that dumb sense of pride at being her first but I swear to myself it wouldn't have mattered if I hadn't. We finally part, the subtle tap of saliva breaking moments after we have.

	“So I guess...” I mumble and try to remember Candace's boyfriend from high school, “what's-his-name wasn't up to much.”

	“Okay, I take it back, YOU'RE the biggest idiot,” Candace says, grinning as she pokes me in the ribs “I was doing that to make you jealous, you dumb shit! I've....I've wanted you for fucking years, Max. Like since I was eleven; you remember when our parents took us to the beach together? When I sun-burned the shit out of my hands, feet, tail and ears? Some of my friends came to a sleepover to cheer me up and were bringing those magazines full of angsty teens and boy-band twinks and yet for some reason? All I could think of was you.”

	“Shit, I wish it was that early for me....I finally worked out I REALLY liked you when you broke the shit out of 'Dickless' Vic's nose.” I confessed. Candace giggled.

	“Oooh, kinky! I should punch people more often....” she snickered as she clenched her hand and bopped me on the nose as I chuckled in return.

	“Well, okay, not that EXACTLY. It was where you kept back-talking the teachers because you knew I was hurt. The days and days of detention being thrown at you, and all you could say was 'shut up, Max needs a doctor!' over and over. I remember the way you smiled as my parents drove me to the hospital; you looked so worried despite that smile.”

	It felt nice just placing our emotional cards on the table; exposing everything within after giving each other physically. So much to share, and now all the time in the world to do it.

	“You know I'd do anything for you, Max. I've never cared what happened to me if it meant helping you and nothing I've had in my life has mattered more; nobody knows me better. My own damn parents can't talk me down like you did today. Like I said, I know I'm not easy to deal with...”

	“Not like Bitch-Hazel, eh?” I wiggle my eyebrows and Candace laughs warmly.

	“Oh boy, was she easy! Bitch would drop her panties for a half-chewed zucchini and a ten percent coupon off a deli sandwich.”

	I laugh hard. It was difficult not to feel a little guilty digging Hazel up all these years later just to insult her again but damn if Candace wasn't the best and worst influence on me. I stroke her smooth, furry back and bring her closer still until her head rests on my shoulder and our bodies press together. Just feeling her breathe is amazing and I can't help but toy with the thicker part of her tail.

	“Candace, you are so fucking special in all the right ways. I don't know if you even realise it.“

	“Nah, Max, I'm just a hotheaded bitch who got lucky having a guy like you to keep the worst of the dumb shit under control.” she kisses my neck.

	“I wouldn't be half of who I am if you didn't keep dragging me in your wake, 'Deece.”

	“I love-” we both say at the same time. We lean back enough to look each other in the eye.

	We just smile and leave it at that. It can't get any better.

															One Month later...

	“I think under the circumstances with this particular individual, considering the cam footage and the witness statements,” the police officer says as he looks at my white furred girlfriend, “we can safely say this is a case of justified defence of both yourself and another. Just don't make it a habit of taking it this far, ma'am. I respect your bravery, but you could have been seriously hurt or escalated the situation.”

	Candace rolls her eyes and holds her hands up in submission. I can't help but still see the traces of blood on her knuckles.

	It had been a unique Valentine's day night; service went as well as expected with the happy couples filtering in through our restaurant. All as it should have been until after service. The front of house manager, Greg, had been plying himself with alcohol from the bar throughout the evening and the sad reality of his 'charm' came to the fore when he tried to force himself on one of the new waitresses in the alley during her smoke break.

	Thank fucking god for Candace. She heard the commotion and confronted him when things turned increasingly sour. Greg had gone back into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. Candace was being Candace; by the time I heard things kicking off and entered the kitchen, Greg was dripping blood everywhere from his mouth, a scattering of teeth on the floor and a food preparation surface and his arm was bent backwards as he writhed and screamed in pain on the floor. The waitress, a new girl I still haven't learned the name of yet, was bawling her eyes in the corner in half a state of undress.

	I sit next to Candace with my arm wrapped around her shoulders as the police officer finishes radioing in something and drives off. Greg was already on the way to the hospital under police escort. I'd already come down from my own anger at Candace putting herself in harms way, but I knew logically she wasn't going to struggle against a drunk moron with a knife; I'd started going to her karate lessons and watching her spar with the Sensei as a demonstration was a lesson in how outmatched the average idiot would be.

	The restaurant owner, Mr. Jackson, a tall and well groomed rat Rodere-kind man in his fifties, was escorting the victim out of the restaurant and locked the door behind him. Candace immediately pulled away from me and ran over, taking the poor girl in her arms and the two embraced. I knew they had hit it off well when she joined a couple of days ago; my girlfriend had that effect on people.
	Yeah, Candace is a dangerous person to anger, but she always drew the best from others and this poor girl was no exception. They talked and I could already see the distraught fellow waitress manage a smile as Candace helped dry her eyes.

	Mr. Jackson walks over to me and sparks up a fancy looking cigarette, silver zippo lighter flashing and gone from view in a snappy, practised motion.

	“Max. How is Candace coping? It must have been quite the fright for the poor girl. I can't believe Gregory would have this in him.” He says, mellow despite his his somewhat ragged appearance; he was normally very neat but obviously the last couple of hours had taken its toll. His suit was unbuttoned and his bow tie loose around his neck

	“She's fine, Mr. Jackson. Nothing phases her. Well, not much, anyway.” I say and shrug. Mr. Jackson takes a smooth pull of his cigarette and exhales through his snout, although courteously away from me.

	“Well, that's good. We will have to remain closed tomorrow for the police to finish their business and a deep clean to take place. I...hm,” Mr. Jackson runs a finger and thumb over his well groomed whiskers with one hand as he thinks for a moment, then flicks a manicured clawed thumb against the cigarette between his fingers with the other, dropping the ashen tip, “I did want to ask you, Max, if you felt that perhaps Candace would be willing to take over in Gregory's stead. Naturally he has no place here any more, and I would rather have an existing member of staff take the helm, but you know Candace the best of all of my employees and I feel she may just have the right attitude for the task....”

	“She'd love nothing better, I'm sure. Everyone here respects her, and the customers are always putting in some really kind feedback when I check through the book after service. I mean, just look at her.” I gesture over to Candace and the new girl again.

	Mr. Jackson turns and sees the pair roaming the wet pavement having a candid chat. The new girl's still blowing her nose on a napkin but she looks far more comfortable as my lover keeps the waitress' mind from the worst of this nights action. That nurturing spirit in full swing to balance the destructive fire she unleashed earlier. The waitress' boyfriend arrives and Candace lets her go into his arms, then my mouse girl returns to us.

	“Candace, my dear girl.” Mr. Jackson says and smiles warmly, “I must say I wish things could have been dealt with by the proper authorities but...I dare to think what could have happened if you weren't here. I'd like to offer you the front of house management position...if you feel comfortable with the responsibilities, of course!”

	Candace, her eyes a little wet from the sympathy she showed the new girl, looks a little dumbfounded before taking Mr. Jackson's hand and nodding as they shook. The rat man does look a little perturbed as he notices the small spots of blood on her knuckles but does his best to ignore it.

	“O-of course, Mr. Jackson. I'd love nothing better!” Candace says, and I'm reminded of how rare it was to see her stumble over her words. At least since that day.

	“Splendid! Now, I believe we should all get home and in from the cold. We shall be reopening as normal the day after next. I look forward to seeing what you're capable of, Candace. It will take a special person indeed to get everyone focused on the job after all this unpleasantness.”

	I chime in before Candace can.

	“Like no-one else, Mr. Jackson. Candace is a leader. She'll have everyone on their toes and I guarantee she'll make the restaurant a better place.”

	“That's what I like to hear! Exceptional! You two take care, and let me know if you have any concerns about coming back; I want to make sure this sordid business doesn't linger any more than it needs to, and a good manager will be instrumental. A good evening, both of you.”

	We both remain silent as Mr. Jackson inhales one last draw of his cigarette and discards it, only half-spent. He steps on it with a slight turn of his fine dress shoes and climbs into his shiny red Ferrari, with a name consisting of the letter 'F' followed by a smattering of numbers that make it sound like a jet fighter, and drives off with a little tyre-squeal.
	He's not a bad guy by any stretch, rich enough to keep probably more staff than strictly necessary and I know by the books the place makes enough to give him a fair wad of cash each month. Even so I briefly wonder if he could have offered us a lift but of course he's only got two seats. I stand and stretch as Candace seemed to just take in what had just happened.
	Her contemplation clearly ends when she smacks me as hard as she can on my ass.

	“Ow, holy fuck! What was that for?”

	“Hell if I know!? I've been made a fucking manager after I just railed Greg's face into a steel prep surface and snapped his fucking arm! I feel like the world's gone crazy! I had to do....SOMETHING!” She's bouncing on her feet, wide eyed and manic as her tail wriggles around like a drunken snake.

	“So begins the frightful reign of Queen Candace the Terrible! First of her line! God save us from the Queen!” I chuckle. I hand her a bottle of hand sanitiser and she uses it to get more of the blood off her hands before passing it back.

	“You know it, slave!” Candace says, smirking as she folds her arms and looks down past her muzzle at me, “now, carry me home! I expect to be fed, my feet rubbed, my back massaged...if you perform well, then perhaps you can join me in the bedding chambers or whatever the fuck those royals call it.”

	“Shit, I'm still exhausted from the gym earlier. Eh, I can stretch for a cab and a pizza. I'm totally up for giving you a rub-down though.” I bring her in for a kiss on the lips and I refuse to let her go until she starts to pull back.

	“That will suffice!” she titters and puts on the worst fancy accent she can, “You're still carrying me until the cab arrives, slave!”

	I smile and produce my phone. I place the orders of transport and food on their respective apps before replacing my cell, turning and bending down to let Candace leap onto my back.
It'll be a fun ten minute wait as she gently rubs her fuzzy cheek against mine, arms over my shoulders and wrapping around my chest as my arms encircle her legs.

	“No half measures with you, are there?” I say.

	“Would you have me any other way?” she says and wriggles against my back to settle against me properly.

	“Nah...well, probably, but this is better. As weird a time as it is to say it; happy Valentine's day, my 'queen'.”

	“Right back at you. I love you, human slave.”

																The End