Randall’s Bungalow:
Apachtka Lake, New Kiev, Christmas Eve . . . .


“Did you really have to leave straight from work, Amanda?” Randall St. John frowned at the image in the vidscreen he held. Leaning his golden-furred body against the breakfast bar, he said, “I mean . . . for crying out loud, the shuttle could’ve easily picked you up here, as well as at the club.”

“Oh, mon amant, I would have come home after my last shift was over, but I had already packed my bags and brought them with me to work,” the image of Clover said. “Madame Charly had already set my last shift, and could not work around it. I tried to alter the departure time for moi’s flight, but I could not.”

“Didn’t you say that your folks had already had that worked out?” Randall asked.

The red-haired rabbit wrinkled her nose. “My mamma never could understand the change in time-zones, even though Pappa and my siblings have tried many times.”

“Okay, I understand, hon.” Randall sighed gustily. “It just sucks that we can’t say good-bye in person.”

Clover made a pouty expression, which was thoroughly ruined by the grin she couldn’t suppress. “Believe me, lover, I would have given you both a most-special parting kiss . . . ah, but, we beggars cannot be choosey. Especially when we have not see moi’s family in many years!”

Randall nodded. “Yeah. Still, I hope your trip goes smoothly, hon. We’re going to miss you terribly.” He shook his head, before adding fondly, “Especially after the fuss you made over us last year, around this time.”

With a giggle, Clover said, “Ah, mon beau! It is only fair that I make you both as happy as you have made moi. You and le à-cheveux-pourpre make it so easy to spoil, oui?”. Her face turned away from the video-pickup briefly, then returned with a harried expression. “Oh, Madame Charly has just warned me. The shuttle to the airport has just arrived!”

Randall nodded. “Then, get your cottontail moving. You don’t want to miss your flight.” He smiled and blew a kiss into his vidscreen’s camera. “Safe journey, bun-hon. We’ll see you soon.”

“Hopefully before the New Year, mon amant,” Clover said, wrinkling her nose as she sent a kiss of her own back through the call. “Give my love to Cheska, Randall. Good-bye for now!” With that, the vidscreen went blank as the call was ended.

Thumbing the End Call button on his tablet, Randall smiled sadly and sighed. “You know I will.”

“Know you will, what, Randall?”

Turning to look over his shoulder, Randall’s sad expression turned brighter at the sight of his other love -- peering around the corner of the hallway, her head wrapped up in a towel as she was clearly fresh out of the shower -- as he replied, “To let you know that Clover sends her love, as the shuttle just arrived at the Sokol to pick her up.”

“Ah, the rabbit’s finally off for her Christmas trip home?” Cheska’s nose twitched as she smiled softly. “She will make her flight?”

Randall turned to toss his tablet on the side table near the kitchen entrance. “If she doesn’t hold up the shuttle while she tells everyone at work good-bye, too.” He turned on his seat at the breakfast bar, facing Cheska fully. “You know how she is about partings, hm?”

Cheska arched one eyebrow, smiling wryly. “Oh, all too well. The rabbit never does like being away from those she cares for.” Reaching up to push her round-eyeglass frames higher on her nose, she sighed. “Still, is understood she hasn’t seen her family for a long time. I hope she has a good time with them for Christmas.”

Randall chuckled. “If her family is anything like she is? She’ll have a whale of a time back in Potosi.” Randall twitched his tail, before rising to his feet. “Did you leave me any hot water?”

At that, Cheska grinned. “Perhaps. You will have to find out, o’ flop-cat.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she saw his face fill with a mock-scowl.

“Cheska! The way you go through showers--!”

“Cannot be helped,” Cheska said, ducking back out of sight as her voice echoed down the hallway. “You bought this place, knowing our penchant for long soakings, pooshok.” The sound of a door opening preceded her following words: “Besides, are you going to complain or go shower and get ready for tonight?”

With a snort and a laugh, Randall stepped away from his seat and padded towards the hallway. “Heartless creature,” he muttered good-naturedly, as he reached down to remove his T-shirt.


A short time after his brisk -- and still-hot -- shower in the master bath, Randall emerged from his bedroom; clean, dry and clad in a pair of long, navy-blue cotton lounge pants. He flicked his fluffy tail one last time, before padding back down the hall, past the kitchen and common dining room, on his way to the sunken living room beyond.

Here, one of his recently-new home’s best features was currently in use: a wide, stone fireplace, complete with a broad hearth and thick mantle made from a seasoned, petrified railroad tie. The designers of this particular home had equipped it with both a natural gas outlet and a wood-bearing grate, so that either source could be used in it. For tonight, Randall had already started a wood fire, and it pleased him to see it blazing merrily in the wide pit behind the metal screen covering its “mouth”. Kneeling, he reached across to move the screen aside and took a metal poker to keep the burning logs in place. Satisfied, he replaced the poker before taking up a smaller log from the wood supply on the side, adding it to the fire to keep it going.

“There.” Rising, he moved back to the low, two-person couch that had been placed in front of the fireplace -- well back to prevent an accident, but close enough to allow enjoyment of the fire’s warmth. Sinking down with a sigh of bliss, he rested his head on the cushioned back and closed his eyes briefly.

“Randall?”

“Yes, Cheska?” He turned his head briefly, cocking one ear to listen.

“Do you have anything more . . . substantial than tea to drink, tonight?” Her voice floated down the hall, echoing like she was in the main bathroom. “I feel like being warm inside and out.”

With a smile, he levered himself up off the couch and walked to the kitchen. “i think that can be arranged.” Rounding the entry way, he reached out to the fridge and got a bottle of milk before looking to rummage through the nearby cupboard. “Care to join me in the living room, when it’s ready?”

“That does sound like a plan,” Cheska replied.

With a chuckle, Randall pulled out some Dutch cocoa powder, sugar, powdered milk, cornstarch, salt and cayenne pepper. He poured the milk into a pan and set it to warm on the stove, while fetching a bowl from the cabinet below. Humming softly, he mixed the required measurements of the ingredients in the bowl -- allowing just s pinch of the hot pepper and salt for flavor -- and set them aside. He retrieved two of his cherished white drinking mugs (recovered from a diner that he’d enjoyed in his younger days) and spooned a good measure of the powdered mix into each one.

While watching the milk warm up, he called down the hallway, asking, “Anything else to have with your hot drink, myska?”

There was a passing moment, then Cheska called back, “Some of your homemade cookies, pooshok?”

Recognizing the wistful tone, he laughed and said, “One plate of my family’s famous, chewy-and-gooey homemade cookies, coming up.” Moving back to the counter, he fetched the sealed plastic box from underneath and popped it open. Sniffing the sweet, toothsome scent of walnuts and semi-sweet chocolate, he made a small pile on a handy plate. Then, turning his attention back to the stove, he stirred the milk and waited for it to give off some fine trails of steam. When it did, he lifted the pot and poured equal measures into the cups and stirred each one to mix them thoroughly.

“Mmm, it smells good in there,” Cheska said. Her voice drifted in from the living room, edged with satisfaction and a happy sigh.

“Found the fireplace to your liking, myska?” Randall asked, arranging the hot mugs and heaped plate on a tray.

“On a night like tonight . . . yesh,” Cheska replied. “Only, one thing is missing.”

With a chuckle, Randall scooped up the tray and turned to leave the kitchen. “Be right there.” Padding across the floor, he rounded the entry way and slipped into the living room, only to stop when he reached the corner of the couch. Cheska was standing in front of the fireplace, her long hair left in a loose twist that trailed down the center of the back. She was wearing a pair of black, cotton boy-shorts and a singlette top; both of which highlighted her white fur and the purple stripes that criss-crossed her back and arms. She wasn’t posed in any provocative way, but the sight of her made Randall’s heart race a bit faster.

“Ahem,” he said softly.

Turning around, she regarded Randall briefly, before a smile filled her face. “Ah, there you are.”

Making a mock bow, Randall offered, “Sweet treats for your evening pleasure, m’lady?”

Chuckling at his faux-accent, Cheska said, “Silly cat.” She moved to the couch and motioned for him to come over. “You spoil me.”

Stepping around so he could place the tray on the end table with care, Randall said, “As Amanda often says, you make it easy to spoil you, myska.” He passed her one of the hot mugs and offered the plate of cookies, waiting until she had selected a couple before taking one for himself. He took his seat, watching with amusement as she sniffed appreciatively, before taking a sip of her cocoa. “Is good?”

Shivering with delight as the creamy concoction went down her throat, Cheska nodded as she took a bite of her cookie. “Yush, is very good!”

Randall retrieved his own cup and, blowing on it before he took his own sip, smacked his lips before saying, “Best thing in the world to warm a body.”

Cheska sipped her cup, then put it aside before popping the rest of her cookie into her mouth. “Hmmmsh!” She finished chewing, swallowing before adding, “Save fore one thing, really.”

“Oh? What else is there?” Randall asked, only to laugh as Cheska slid across the couch to snuggle up against his side.

“Warm kitteh, that’s what.” Cheska reached out and snatched the almost-forgotten treat he was holding, and took a bite from it.

“Hey!” Randall huffed, though he clearly wasn’t too mad at her. “I was going to eat that!”

“Too slow, pooshok. Never leave sweets unguarded when I am around,” Cheska said, her eyebrows arching as she grinned. “You should know that by nOW?!” Her words exploded in a shriek of laughter, when Randall sneakily walked his fingers across her ribs. She scooted back a pace, wrapping her arms around her torso. “Oo, evil cat!”

“Who’s slow now, Mouse?” Randall asked, growling playfully. He grinned, warding off a thrown accent pillow with one hand, before saying, “Agh! Ebil mause! Flag o’ truce?!”

Halting her action to swat him again with the pillow she’d picked up, Cheska nodded and poked a finger at him. “Do not, tickle, the mouse, flop-cat. Remember that.”

Randall nodded. “Fine, I won’t do that again.” He sagged back against the back of the couch and shook his head. “Seriously, though . . . are we going to spend all of tonight playing slap-n’-tickle, or didn’t you want to relax?” He patted the cushion next to him. “Promise, no sneaky fingers.”

She dropped the pillow and slid back over, eying his hands until she was certain that he wasn’t playing any more tricks, then returned to her original position snuggling up to his side. Sighing, she dropped her head onto his shoulder, before tucking her legs up onto the cushion.

“Better?”

“Much.” Cheska looked up at him. “No more foolish tricks?”

“Nope,” Randall said, curling one arm around her shoulders. “Just the fireplace, hot chocolate . . . sweet treats, and someone to cuddle with on Christmas Eve.” He blinked and smiled. “What more could you want?”

Snuggling closer, Cheska smiled softly. “Nothing else, Randall.” Staring up into his eyes, her own twinkled as she sniffed and said, “Well, perhaps . . . one thing more I would want.”

“What’s that?” Randall asked.

“Perhaps, something most traditional, for Christmas, pooshok?” Cheska leaned up a bit, propping herself on one hand as she added, “Something the rabbit wanted to give, though she’s not hear.”

Randall arched one eyebrow, then flicked his ears when a soft jingle-bell sounded over his head. Looking up, he almost huffed with laughter at the sight of Cheska’s tail -- the brush-tip hovering over them, with a bit of red ribbon tying both a silver jingle bell and a sprig of mistletoe just underneath it. Looking back down, he felt his ears going hot as he asked, “Is that all you want, myska?”

“Would be a start,” Cheska said. “Perhaps you can think of something else, after?”

Growling soft yet deeply in his throat, Randall reached over and cupped her cheek with one hand. “Oh, that I don’t doubt, but first-.” He tugged her willingly into a close hug, tilting his head slightly so their mouths met perfectly. Lips as pliant as rose petals met, then parted to mingle with his as they kissed. There was no need for energetic oral acrobatics. This was a kiss of lovers: comfortable in each other, willing to please and be pleasured by the other. Encouraged, Cheska leaned into him, wrapping both arms up around his neck to hold him close, while he cradled her smaller body in his larger ones.

The kiss lingered on. Amid the glow of the firelight, the crackle of the logs and the soft hiss of snowfall outside the main window of the living room.

Eventually, the pair did break their liplock, but remained close together as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“Mmm, that was . . . wonderful,” Cheska murmured.

“A Christmas Kiss, myska,” Randall said, smiling fondly at her.

With a smile that threatened to make her cheeks go sore, Cheska asked, “You have more kisses to give, pooshok? After all,” she reached up to gently fondle one of his ears, making it flick and go hot. “It is not yet Christmas Day.”

Shaking his head, Randall said, “No, and I plan on giving you all the kisses you can handle, until Christmas morning and beyond.”

“Promises,” Cheska said, cupping his furry cheek lovingly. “I will hold you to that, lover.”

With a nod, Randall placed a soft smooch on her forehead, then another on her lips before he said, “Merry Christmas, Cheska.”

“A very merry, loving Christmas, Floppy Cat,” Cheska said with a contented sigh.
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Sketch was done by  p_moss and the story is by myself  SSobotkaJr.

This is a gift for one very wonderful, sweet person who has been a good friend, an inspiration and one of the most amazing woman I am proud to have in my life. This not only celebrates the holidays, but also celebrates her birthday -- today, December 2nd -- and, as I wished her earlier, I hope she has a wonderful day of celebration and and even better year ahead of her.

Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas, Myska. *nuzzles*