The night has barely settled when you feel that familiar, mischievous static tickling the back of your neck. Missy Wild Bunny aka Bonnie leans against the office doorframe like she owns the place, all swagger and trouble in a crop-top.

“Hey, squirt,” she says, the smirk already halfway to a confession. “So… question.” Her ears twitch. Her confidence doesn’t. “You know how to use a stove, right?” For a heartbeat she looks unshakeable, but then her grin breaks into a sheepish, too-cute wince.

“I… uhm… can you make a grilled cheese? Freda kinda… banned me from the kitchen after I almost burned it down making french fries. I swear I followed the recipe....mostly.” You laugh, because there’s really no resisting that. Missy bounces behind you as you head to the kitchen, humming like she’s already tasting victory.

The kitchen lights are warm and a little too bright when you start buttering bread. The sizzle of the pan fills the room. Soon enough the grilled cheese is browning into a perfect golden slab of comfort.

Then there’s a soft weight around your waist Bonnie has slipped up behind you, arms circling you slowly, gently. She rests her chin on the top of your head as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re warm,” she murmurs, content and...somewhat sleepy. Everything is calm.......which is, of course, exactly when Freda kicks the door open.

“Bonnie, what did I tell you about playing in the—” She freezes the moment she sees you at the stove instead of her purple menace. Her whole posture deflates. Her expression softens into something almost grandmotherly. “…Nevermind. Carry on, dearies.” She leaves as suddenly as she appeared, closing the door behind her with a smug little click.

Bonnie jerks upright, ears practically sparking with indignation. “Wh—she—why does she always do that!?” She hides her face in your shoulder, voice muffled. “I hate that bear! She didn’t even yell! She just—smiled! Annoyingly!”