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Bronwyn: Everyday Hurts

-o-O-o-

Every day that I'm without you hurts just a little bit more

"You're an idiot!" Bronwyn lashed hotly through tear-streaked eyes as she flung the door open with a forceful shove from one hand. The other clasped the broken strap of her dress as she trooped into the house, its edges as frayed as the cow girl's bubbling temper.

"I had to do something!" Arthur retorted with a frown as he followed in her wake, wincing as his fingers tested the tender swell of his one blackened eye. It hurt to talk, his lower lips split too, but no longer bleeding. It would probably smart for a few days to come as it slowly healed.

Bronwyn turned on her heels to round sharply on Arthur, cupreous eyes flaring with anger, "It was nothing! You threw the first punch!"

"Of course I did!" he protested, pretty riled up about the situation himself. But the dominant sensation, the overwhelming emotion that rooted itself in his gut and only served to stoke his anger, was the bitter tang of betrayal, and he couldn't help but cast his mind back only an hour or so prior.

-o-O-o-

Arthur had left Bronwyn at the bar for only a few minutes whilst he'd ventured off to the men's room. But it seemed five minutes was all it took for her to garner the attention of some.

When he returned to her the elegant cow girl was surrounded, her back pressed to the bar, by a small group of other Anthromorphs. A short darkly-furred boar with overly-sharpened tusks stood to Bronwyn's right, a stocky ram of some sort to her left, and then right in front, towering over the petite bovine, quite possibly the single largest German Shepherd Arthur had ever seen.

It was obvious from where Arthur was standing that the dog was openly propositioning her, his body language broadcasting a cocky arrogance openly to anybody who just so happened to look in his direction. Clearly the boar and ram were his wingmen.

Though Arthur couldn't hear what any of them were actually saying it was clear from Bronwyn's defensive posture that she wasn't reciprocating with even the slightest hint of interest. Hell, she looked positively uncomfortable.

When the dog reached out with a paw towards her cheek Arthur's bovine belle jerked herself away with a frown and a scowl. All the German Shepherd caught was air.

Arthur had seen enough. He made his way over in a shot.

"I told you," he heard Bronwyn snap as he drew to within earshot, "I'm here with somebody. I'm not interested in leaving with you."

"Come on, babe. His bad luck if he stepped out on you." The canine made another slow effort to touch her, "Wouldn't you rather spend some time with an someone who's a bit more... predatory_?"_

Predatory? That sounded downright creepy. Had the dog really thought that it would be convincing?

Bronwyn stopped his wayward paw by grabbing his wrist firmly and holding it still. The dog may have had a foot or more on her in terms of height, but even a comparatively dainty bovine could be fairly well regarded for their innate strength. She held him fast.

"Why settle for a beta?" she glowered in a dangerous low tone.

It took some effort, but the Shepherd managed to pull his wrist free with a sharp tug, his demeanour instantly less pleasant, "I'm an alpha." He scowled, affronted by Bronwyn's slur against his status.

Arthur chose that moment to insert himself into the equation, forcing his way to Bronwyn's side, between and the ram, much to the latter's displeasure. He could smell the alcohol on the German Shepherd's breath now that he was well within range, pungent and bitter.

"Well I'm the apex predator." Arthur declared as he slipped his arm reassuringly around Bronwyn's waist.

The tension visibly left her body once she realised Arthur was there beside her.

"You okay?" Arthur asked quietly. Bronwyn simply nodded.

The German Shepherd looked down at Arthur, blinked twice, then let out a haughty belly laugh that seemed to reverberate around the entire room.

"_This _is who you're here with? A human_?" he slapped his knee in a way that seemed just a tad too theatrical, "Anubis's beard, you have to be kidding me!"_

The ram and boar joined the dog in his laughter.

Arthur began to feel his blood boil.

"Come on." Bronwyn hooked her arm inside her lover's elbow, pulling him insistently towards the exit, "Let's go."

Arthur allowed himself to be pulled. If Bronwyn wanted to leave then he was more than willing to oblige. Sacrificing a little pride for her comfort and wellbeing was no real sacrifice at all.

The dog clearly had other ideas.

"Oh no, Bessie." He made a rough grab at the cow girl as the couple moved to step by, "You stay until I say otherwise."

Bessie. Arthur recognised it as a racial slur of sorts. People only ever used it when they wanted to imply a cow was good for nothing but breeding and calving. Bronwyn ignored it. She'd heard it often enough before that it really didn't bother her.

But she could feel the tension in Arthur's arm coil beneath her fingers as she held on to him.

So when the Shepherd's paw grabbed her by the shoulder-strap of her dress, pulling the cow girl back forcefully enough to rend her grip entirely from Arthur's arm, eliciting a yelp of surprise from Bronwyn, the human's reaction was almost instantaneous.

Arthur rounded on the balls of his feet, fist already clenched, arm drawn back. The half-cut dog didn't have time to react.

The human's punch connected cleanly with the side of the dog's muzzle, sending him reeling, taking a grasping chunk out of the cow girl's dress as he stumbled, landing inelegantly on his rear at the foot of the bar.

The moment of hesitation that followed was fleeting. The ram and boar were on the man an instant later.

The brawl that followed lasted just long enough for the police to arrive.

-o-O-o-

"You could've gotten hurt!" Bronwyn was clearly furious.

"I did get hurt." Arthur fished a bag of peas from Bronwyn's freezer, holding them against his bruised eye. The cold stung briefly, though soon enough it began to dull the throb, "But I gave as much as I've got."

Bronwyn let off an exasperated sigh, "You didn't have to give anything at all! It was over! We were leaving!"

"That canine _prick_grabbed you. I had to do something!" Arthur couldn't believe they were even having this discussion at all. That she wasn't taking his side in this cut him deeply, more-so that she didn't seem to even understand why he'd reacted in the manner that he did. It hurt, and that only served to make the frustration and the anger worse.

"You started a fight!"

"They started it, Wyn!" he seethed, pointing towards the door as if the Anthromorphs from the bar were waiting just on the other side, "When they started abusing you!"

"Dammit, Arthur!" Bronwyn slammed her palms down on the kitchen table, making the vase in the centre rattle and shake against the polished table top, giving in to her own growing need to hit something, "I don't need you fighting these battles for me!"

"Wyn, I can't just-"

But she cut him off, "No, Arthur! I've faced this sort of thing my entire life! I can handle it, and I don't need you putting yourself in harm's way just to prove some macho point!"

Arthur couldn't suspend his disbelief given what he was hearing, "What, you think I went through all that to make myself feel manly? For fuck's sake, Bronwyn, that _dog_effectively assaulted you!"

"And you_assaulted _him, so his posse of friends attacked you!"

The tears began to run freely down Bronwyn's cheeks, matting the tan fur as they left damp, bitter trails in their wake. She was visibly shaking.

Arthur didn't seem to notice, "Well forgive me if my own personal wellbeing matters a little bit less to me than doing the right thing!"

"Starting a fight isn't doing the right thing!'"

Silence descended to stifle the argument, heavy and uncomfortable, as they both inwardly fumed.

"So that's it, huh?" Arthur broke the quiet, voice low, barely above a whisper, "You're pinning the blame on me instead of those vile pricks?"

Bronwyn looked away, closing her eyes to stem the flow of her tears, unable to meet his gaze.

"Fine. That's fine. You want to fight your own battles, go right ahead." Arthur placed the bag of frozen peas down on the counter-top, "I'll just remove myself from the equation!"

Without so much as another word he marched from the kitchen, the sound of the front door slamming a few moments later echoing as he departed the house

Bronwyn stood alone in the silence.

The tears kept coming as she fell to her knees.

-o-O-o-

It wasn't until work the following Monday that Bronwyn saw Arthur again. When they did cross paths their exchange was purely work-related, formal and awkward, though it took all of her willpower to remain entirely professional. The wounds were still open and raw, her emotions bubbling in a tumult of conflict just beneath the surface. Obviously Arthur was still in pain too, quite literally given the state of his eye, but it was the cold tension that had settled between them that cut into Bronwyn the deepest.

She just didn't know what to say to him.

When Arthur had stepped out of the office again after taking his day's work assignment Bronwyn had fought desperately with herself to maintain any semblance of composure. She'd barely succeeded. The triumph was pyrrhic at best, left hollow by the anguish she felt.

When her ears caught sound of somebody else approaching the office the cowgirl thankfully had her back to the door, so they wouldn't see the state she was in. But she could tell from the gentle padding of paw against carpet that it was Aracelia. The felinoid didn't knock at the open door, but her gentle yet distinctive purr-like humming confirmed her presence.

Bronwyn took a few deep breaths to compose herself. When she turned around she could see that Celia was carrying a couple of steaming mugs in each paw, a sweet aroma accompanying them into the room, "Morning boss."

She was chipper as always.

"Morning Celia."

The calicoesque cat girl placed one of her mugs on the desk, rotating it slowly so Bronwyn could grab the handle. The steamy aroma shepherded with it the saccharine scent of warm mint, simultaneously delicious and soothing. Given the sweet chocolate that followed in its wake it clearly wasn't peppermint tea either.

"Thanks." Bronwyn offered a wan smile before lifting the mug to her lips to draw a brief sip. Mint chocolate hot chocolate, just as she'd suspected. Perfection.

Maybe Aracelia was psychic?

"No Arthur today?"

Okay. Maybe not that psychic...

Bronwyn didn't look up to meet the cat girl's gaze, instead swirling her drink and staring into the little vortex it created, allowing it to absorb her thoughts for the briefest of moments, "He's already out on the floor, counting all the housewares."

"Before his morning cuppa?" There was far more feigned surprise to Celia's tone than Bronwyn was comfortable with. She couldn't help but wonder where her underling was going with this.

In the end Bronwyn decided to simply humour her, "Yep."

"Alone?"

"Yep."

Silence swallowed them whole.

"Did you two have a fight?" Celia set her own mug down on the desk.

And there it was.

"What makes you ask that?"

"Well," Aracelia crossed her arms, one handpaw tapping her chin thoughtfully, "He never gets to working before drinking his tea. And you'd never let him do such a big count without help. So, since he's out there and you're in here, you must be avoiding one-another. I can only assume you've had a fight."

"Very astute." Bronwyn said drily.

"Yeah. Cats are smarter than they look." Celia brushed off her boss' mild sarcasm with practiced ease, "So what's up?"

Bronwyn sighed, knowing full well that she wasn't going to win this one, "Would you drop it if I said I didn't want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

"How about if I pulled rank?" She joked.

"We don't have ranks, boss."

"If I said it wasn't important?"

"Uh-huh." Celia nodded, "Not buying it."

"Okay, we had a fight."

"Over what?"

"Arthur punched a guy."

Celia seemed genuinely surprised, green eyes widening, "Wow. I'm impressed. Tougher than he looks, that one."

Bronwyn glared.

Celia shrank back slightly, her tail curling itself around her body almost defensively, "Erm, I mean... That's terrible..." She gulped when Bronwyn's expression didn't falter. Probably a good time to change the subject... "So, why exactly did he hit somebody?"

"Defending my honour." It was obvious from the way Bronwyn rolled her eyes that she thought it was utterly ridiculous.

Celia wasn't at all sure she agreed, "And that's bad?"

"Yes, it's bad!" the cow girl threw her arms up in the air in exasperation. Was she really the only one who got it? "It was a huge German Shepherd, and the guy wasn't alone! Arthur got a black eye. Then his friends all joined in... Arthur could've been seriously hurt over some misguided need to protect my feelings..."

"So you're mad at him for doing what he thought was right, for trying to protect you?"

"No!" that wasn't it at all, "You know how things can be. You catch somebody's eye and they won't take no for an answer, and suddenly they're huge jerks. It happens. It's not nice, but we learn to brush it off. I was willing to let it go and move on, but Arthur escalated it. If they'd all laid into him..."

Just attempting to finish the thought made her shudder. Mental images of Arthur's broken and beaten form plagued her.

"Okay. So, he wanted to protect you. You wanted to protect him. And now you're both mad about it?"

"It sounds so stupid when you say it like that."

Celia chuckled, "Well, that's because it is stupid."

The bluntness of the calico caught Bronwyn a bit off-guard.

"Look, Bron..." Celia stepped forwards, placing a paw lightly on the cow-girl's shoulder, "Sure, we both know how people can be, humans and anthros. Arthur obviously does too. But we've both had a lifetime to learn how to deal with it. He's only been emotionally invested in how people treat you since you two started banging."

"Charming..." Bronwyn rolled her eyes.

"'kay," Celia clucked her tongue, "You get my point, right?"

"Yeah, I do." Bronwyn sighed, "I just don't want to be the reason he gets hurt."

"He's a nice guy." Celia gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. The combination of pad and fur made it a surprisingly tender gesture, the calico girl's claws kept carefully retracted, "I don't think he minds a bit of pain if it helps you out."

One of Bronwyn's hands lifted to rest atop Celia's, offering her thanks for the reassurance, "I appreciate it. But that's not the point."

"I think it kinda is. You've got a guy who'll do pretty much anything to protect you." Their eyes met, the intensity and conviction in Celia's gaze coming as something of a surprise to her bovine boss, "Maybe it's why you're mad with each other now. But it's also why you'll make up, as soon as you start talking to each other again."

Bronwyn really couldn't see that far ahead, "I don't think he wants to talk."

"He will."

"How do you know?"

Celia wore a dangerous smile, like the cat who'd found the milk, "Just leave that to me..."

-o-O-o-

Arthur was half-buried and surrounded by more roll-cages than he dared to count, each one stacked with an almost mind-boggling array of retail and wholesale houseware products - everything from egg-timers to storage units kept in bulk, ready for distribution.

One or two cages were in complete disarray, their contents unceremoniously strewn across the floor in barely organised chaos. It wasn't the organised method that Arthur usually employed, but his mind was elsewhere and his heart wasn't completely in the job, every stray, distracting thought and emotion conspiring together, leading to his little secluded cul-de-sac of disorder.

It was like his own isolated little world and he'd completely lost himself within it.

Motion in the corner of his vision drew his attention to the one escape route he'd allowed himself, and he couldn't resist the urge to look. A plush tenné and russet, white-tipped tail swaying idly from side to side was the first thing he spotted. The lithe calico feline to which it was attached, her smile warm, green eyes watching him intently, feigning casualness as she leaned against one of the cages with her arms folded across her chest. Her usual aloof faux impartiality seemed only partly present - something in her posture just told Arthur that she was there for some other reason than to simply lend him a hand.

"Morning Arthur." She chirped now that he'd taken notice of her, "Want some help?"

He turned to face her, straightening up, "Hey Celia. Thanks."

As she padded towards him she gave him an obvious once-over, making it clear that she was inspecting his black eye and split lip. She let off a soft whistle, "Wow, somebody really did a number on you."

"You should see the other guy."

"Yeah," the feline circled him, "the boss told me about that."

"Did she." Arthur said drily. He wasn't surprised in the slightest that they'd been talking about it.

When she came back around the front of him, Aracelia was wearing a sly smirk, "Defending your lady's honour, oh King of Knights?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. Of course she'd get in a King Arthur reference. She seemed to enjoy teasing him about his namesake every opportunity she'd get. After finding out that he'd essentially been white-knighting for Bronwyn a light ribbing from the calico femme had probably been pretty much guaranteed.

He went back to rearranging boxes on the roll-cage, "She told you that we'd had a fight about it?"

"She didn't really have to." Celia crouched beside him, placing her paws on a sealed box and tilting her head to read the information stamped on its side, "Worked it out myself."

Arthur scoffed, "Somebody's a clever kitty."

"Oooh... Is it me?" Celia stuck out her tongue.

"Sorry." His voice softening in honest regret, "Just a little miffed at the moment."

"Yeah, that big black raincloud over your head gave it away." Celia quickly went from playful to serious, "Want to talk about it?"

Arthur's sigh was heavy, but when he let it escape it took away with it all of his reticence and reluctance to share, and just a little bit of his pent up stress. Celia was somebody he felt he could confide in. Her inquiry was likely born of genuine concern rather than sheer nosiness.

Talking about it would probably even make him feel better about the whole affair.

"Some guy and his friends were trying to bait Bronwyn, cat-calling." Arthur explained. Celia snorted at his choice of phrasing, earning a chuckle from the man, "For lack of a better term."

"Yeah," she was suddenly serious again, her tone somewhat distant, as if she were herself recalling a specific memory, "I know how guys can be."

"Yeah. And when she didn't respond the way they wanted they started turning nasty." Arthur spat, dropping a particularly heavy box onto the cage's middle shelf, "Sexist, racist twats."

"And?" she urged him on.

"And I _tried_to walk away." Arthur straightened up, "But then he made a grab for Bronwyn. I snapped. Just turned around and knocked the guy on his arse."

"Okay, hero." She softly teased, "So then what?"

It riled him just to recall what had followed, "Wyn goes nuts about not needing me to fight her battles for her. She's been doing it her whole life, she can handle herself, the whole spiel. Like I'm supposed to just stand there and do nothing."

Arthur didn't sound bitter, exactly, but there was something else to his tone, something Celia couldn't quite put her finger on. Whatever it was - regret? Disappointment? - it was clearly directed inwards. Was he more upset with himself than anything else? That was adorable! And it made Celia unable to stifle the soft, mirthful smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. This just made her job that little bit easier.

The feline stepped up beside him, giving him a playful shove with her hip, "You're such a dork."

Arthur was puzzled, "What do you mean?"

"Are you sure that's all there is to it?"

She was definitely teasing him. That knowing smirk plastered across her face and the devious twinkle in her eye... She was going somewhere with this, and Arthur couldn't quite shake the feeling that he ought to know where.

For some reason it eluded him completely.

"Look, you know Bronwyn way better than I do." She went on. That much was a given. Still, Celia placed both her hands on his shoulders, meeting his gaze directly to drive home the point she was about to make, "But even I know her well enough to say this; do you really think she was upset about you stepping on her toes, or do you think she just didn't want you to get hurt?"

Arthur sighed with a slow nod, "I know it's the latter." Of course he already knew that. Still, it didn't change anything, "But how can I just do nothing when people treat her like that?"

"Swallow your pride, Arthur. There's no shame in walking away. You have to remember we anthros are used to that sort of crap, even from other anthros."

"You shouldn't have to be." Now he really did sound bitter. As far as the cat girl could tell that was one of the parts he truly resented the most. She really couldn't blame him in that regard.

"No, we shouldn't. But we're dealing with reality here. It's no fairy-tale world out there." She knew that better than most, "There'll always be hate and prejudice."

"So what can we do about it, then?" Arthur's bitterness turned to resentment, "Just let it happen?"

To his surprise Celia's smile was broad and warm, one of her paws lifting his chin. The short fur tickled, though not in an unpleasant way, and the pad in her palm was surprisingly soft, "You win, Arthur, by refusing to sink to their level. You win by not playing their game."

"Their game..." he gave it some thought.

"Saves you a black eye too." She poked him on the cheek, near enough to his bruised eye for it to be felt.

"Ouch." Arthur winced.

"Serves you right, you muppet." How quickly she fell back into her teasing, tormenting ways, "Now, let's get on with this count. When we're done, ape-boy, you and the cow are going to go have a little chat."

"Yes boss." Arthur grumbled. Then he smirked, musing at the plucky little cat making things right.

-o-O-o-

The walk back to the office was the most difficult Arthur had ever taken. Celia had been right about a few things, he was certain, but nothing more-so than the fact he needed to talk things over with Wyn.

Truth be told there was so much he wanted to say to her, apologies that needed to be made and actions to be explained, but he just didn't know where to begin. Where could he begin? It had all started off with an argument over something that now seemed such a petty little thing, but given everything that had followed the waters ahead seemed that much more murky.

Should he begin with an apology? An explanation as to why he'd been so angry? Telling her he understood how she felt? But then, how did she really feel? What if he didn't understand? What if she didn't understand?

So many worries and concerns bubbled up from the depths of his mind.

They all fell away to nothing when he rounded the corner into the office's little foyer and saw Bronwyn sitting there behind her desk.

She was looking straight ahead, right at the doorway where Arthur was standing, but she wasn't really seeing. Gaze lost somewhere in the middle-distance, her ears giving the occasional absent flick, he recognised her distant expression as she wandered somewhere within her thoughts.

Amber within copper eyes shimmered with emotion.

Arthur still didn't know what to say.

And then she looked at him.

"Hey." He offered lamely, just to fill the quiet.

"Hey." She sniffed.

The silence stifled them both, and Arthur knew that he was the one who would have to break it.

"Look, Wyn, I..." the few words Arthur managed to find faltered on his lips.

"You know, it's funny..." Bronwyn began with a sigh as if she hadn't actually heard him, "This little office? This is where we first met."

Arthur looked around at the room. Same old filing cabinet, same old not-quite-messy desk, same old stained carpet as the day he'd first walked in. It wasn't that he'd exactly expected it to change much in the months they'd been together, but there was still a subtle kind of nostalgic comfort to it. There were fond memories they shared in this room, not least of which was the very first time he'd actually laid eyes upon the bovine belle.

And then there was the first time she'd let him lay his hands upon her...

"Feels like forever ago..." he whispered into the thoughtful stillness.

"I never imagined when we first met that you'd cause me so much heart ache." It wasn't an angry accusation. Bronwyn's eyes were watering, her ears hanging low. More than anything she seemed deflated.

"Bronwyn..." It tore at his heart to see her like this.

A fleeting rub from the back of her hand was all it took to wipe away the tears. When she rose to her feet and rounded the desk, her usually perked tail devoid of its free-willed exuberance, Arthur could only watch as she moved close enough to silence him with a single finger to his lips.

"Do you love me?" she asked after a brief eternity.

A nod was his only response.

"Can you forgive me," her other hand came up to his cheek, dark fur a stark contrast to his pale skin, "And allow me to forgive you?"

Arthur nodded again, a soft smile lifting his cheeks, his fingertips seeking out and caressing their way through the platinum fronds of Bronwyn's hair, from the root of one horn until their own weight allowed them to escape his gentle grasp. He had a need to be close to her, a need to touch, to be in contact.

"I know you just didn't want me to get hurt." Arthur spoke softly, "But I hope you understand why I have to protect you."

Bronwyn sighed, but she gave a slight nod. She understood. She just wanted her lover to come home.

He held her gaze, looking into her eyes and seeing directly into her soul, "Every day that I'm without you hurts just that bit more."

Bronwyn's arms were around Arthur less than a moment later, her hands grasping at fistfuls of his shirt. Arthur enveloped her into his embrace as she rested her head against his chest, the man not giving a care to the way one of her horns pressed into him. One of his hands cradled the back of her head, the caress of his fingers soothing and reassuring. Arthur could feel Bronwyn tremble as she gave off the softest of sobs.

"It's okay, Wyn." Arthur cooed softly, kissing the cow girl's ear, "I'm not going anywhere. Not without you."

He felt Bronwyn's grip on him tighten for a moment, almost as if she were trying to pull him into her very being. In truth she wanted to remain there, caught up in her love, for whatever fleeting eternity that one sweet moment would grant them.

They had spent days apart, each one practically its own lifetime; days she never wanted to repeat; days that perhaps, now, they could leave behind them. Maybe not to be forgotten, but certainly to be learned from.

"Arthur?" she began quietly.

Her human loosened his grip, but didn't release her entirely, just relenting enough that he could lean back slightly and properly meet her eyes, "Hmmm?"

"I want to be your cow."

Arthur frowned, puzzling, "You already are my cow."

"No, I mean, properly." Bronwyn finally released him, "I want to be part of your herd."

His herd? Arthur tilted his head as he tried to assimilate the concept, curious as to what she was actually saying. He was human. Humans didn't have herds. Well, unless they were farmers, but he had a feeling that wasn't it. Herds were a cow thing, though Arthur had to admit to himself that the full extent of his knowledge about what that meant was only the scant details he'd learned through Bronwyn.

It took a few seconds to properly break it down in his mind. What was a herd, basically? Well in Bronwyn's case it had been the community she'd grown up in. But more than that, it was her friends, her family, and the people who mattered most to her. She had revealed to him that not all herds were permanent arrangements, and could in fact be quite fluid. But there was an obvious gravity to the way she had brought it up.

Was she asking him to become part of her family?

No. "Your herd". She wanted to join his herd. But he didn't have a herd, so... Was she asking him to start one with her?

That meant...

"Wyn, Are you...?" he wasn't sure whether or not he should finish the thought.

Her smile was earnest, but contained a hint of mischief, "In human? Marry me, you idiot."

Neither of them noticed the felinesque figure peering through the doorway with a very telling smirk on her face.

-o-O-o-

As tradition would have it, a heifer upon being accepted by a bull into his permanent herd would be welcomed by means of a group celebration where all members of the extended herd group would essentially bond.

In their case, with no wider herd to speak of, Bronwyn had decided that having Arthur take her out for a meal would suffice. After all, it was just the two of them. But even so that didn't mean that they hadn't made an effort.

Just for the sheer fun of it Arthur had opted for the full formal dinner suit, complete with its traditional black bow tie, and having taken the time to polish his shoes to an all but mirror shine. Everything considered he felt pretty snazzy.

But none of that compared to the beauty on his arm.

Bronwyn wore a lengthy red satin evening gown that seemed to simply shimmer and flow across her form, clinging protectively to and accentuating her curves - in places it seemed almost painted on - flaring elegantly off her hips all the way down to her ankles. There was a little slot in the back to allow for her tail, itself adorned with a little matching red bow just beneath the platinum tuft at its tip. Her finely brushed fur lacked none of its sleek lustre, the vibrancy of the satin dress making her mixed patterns of tan and bistre seem warmer, almost softer on the eyes. Not a single platinum frond of hair was out of place on her head. Her hooped ear-rings were her finest gold pair rather than the everyday brushed onyx she typically wore. Bronwyn had even gone to the trouble of polishing her horns with a specialist wax she used only on special occasions.

She was the single most captivating sight Arthur had ever seen.

Most importantly of all, though, was a small tag attached to her left ear with Arthur's initials engraved upon it.

Arthur had been more than a little shocked when Bronwyn had raised the idea. To his mind tagging was something for feral bovines, a sign of ownership. He didn't view her as his property. But she'd assured him that it wasn't the same thing, that the gesture was comparable in bovine society to an engagement or wedding ring to humans, and that she would wear it with pride, not as a sign that she was owned.

He had promptly relented and they had picked the tag out together.

Their celebratory date to their favourite restaurant had gradually blossomed into a romantic evening for two. By the end of the night, having settled their bill and gratuity, the pair had elected for a slow, easy walk home through the warm evening air beneath a canopy of stars. Bronwyn had her arm hooked through Arthur's elbow, holding herself closely beside him, resting her head against his upper arm.

Arthur looked down upon his bovine belle from time to time, smiling at the contentment she seemed to radiate.

"Hey, look! It's the milker and her pet human!" an all too familiar voice from across the street shattered their pleasant reality.

Arthur felt Wyn's grip on his forearm instantly tighten. Clearly she recognised it too. Freeing his arm, he slipped it around her shoulders protectively. Neither of them wanted a repeat of the previous incident, so they tried to ignore it by walking on.

The German Shepherd clearly had other plans as he crossed the road, cutting the human-bovine pair off, "What, nothing to say this time?" his friends joined him a few moments later, though they looked far less enthused to be there, "Lost your gall?"

Arthur was willing to ignore it to avoid a confrontation. But when he tried to lead Bronwyn around the dog and away from the scene the large canine moved with them, blocking their path.

"Buddy, I knocked you on your arse once." Arthur warned, "The only thing stopping me from doing it again is the fact I'm not willing to be violent in front of a lady."

"Lady?" the dog scoffed, "No lady here, boyo. Just an overdressed beef burger and a pansy-arse little freak who prefers to fu-"

The lumbering oaf was cut off by a vicious uppercut, sending him reeling over backwards, landing in the gutter in an ungainly tangle of limbs. There was a stunned silence from everyone present. Arthur looked down at Bronwyn with an eyebrow raised. She stood there, right hand still clenched from the punch she'd thrown, a vicious glare smouldering with anger as she beheld the canine with utter contempt.

"Fuck. Off." She snapped.

Arthur was still struggling to comprehend what he'd just witnessed even as Bronwyn grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away.

He stared in wide-eyed silence at the back of her head, her ears flicking in agitation. She must've felt his gaze boring into her because, as soon as they were out of sight, she turned around to face him.

"What?" she demanded.

"You hit him."

Bronwyn's expression softened as she looked down at her feet, mumbling, "Nobody calls you names."

Arthur sighed, "I just can't win..."

The cow girl looked up expecting to see disappointment. Instead her lover was smiling softly, shaking his head.

She returned the smile, rising up onto her tiptoes so she could present him with a peck on the cheek, "Nope."

She let her arm drift around his waist again, his returning to her shoulder as they headed home.

-o-O-o-

The night was tranquilly still when they reached Bronwyn's house, save for a gentle breeze that seemed to dance upon the moonbeams. The warm amber glow of streetlight lit their way through the door, but just as Arthur was reaching for the light switch Bronwyn took hold of his outstretched hand.

"Come with me." She urged softly, leading him through the house, pausing only to kick off her shoes and open the patio window, heading out into the seclusion of the back garden. She released Arthur's hand as she stepped barefoot onto the grass, fresh dewy blades tickling her skin even through her fine fur.

Arthur watched as she placed one dainty step afore another, turning slowly on the balls of her feet as she went, eyes closed and taking deep, revitalising breaths. He watched as the dress twirled out around her in waves, a shimmering ocean of satin breaking around her in the darkness.

When Bronwyn opened her eyes again she was smiling, holding her arms out to beckon her human love to join her. He hesitated only long enough to remove his own shoes and socks before stepping forwards onto the grass, taking her hands in his own and pulling her towards him.

As their bodies came into contact, chest to chest, Arthur's hands found their way to her waist, Bronwyn's in turn finding purchase around his neck, fingers entwining and locking in place.

"It seemed a shame to waste the night." She whispered as she lifted herself on tiptoes to place a kiss on his lips.

Arthur returned it willingly, lifting Bronwyn so that her feet left the ground. The cow girl giggled into their kiss until they were forced to part as she neared her zenith.

Bronwyn slipped her arms around Arthur's head as he held her up, pulling him into a less than conventional hug, leaving his face buried in the exposed valley between her breasts - not that she ever expected to hear him complain about it. The warmth of his breath reached her skin through the soft down of her fur, and she felt him place a few soft kisses as he nuzzled against her.

Of course the raspberries that followed made the cow girl shriek with laughter, ticklish as she was.

Doing her best to not squirm so that Arthur wouldn't accidentally drop her, Bronwyn gave a gentle kiss to the top of his head, wrapping her legs in turn around his waist so she was much better supported and leaning back to allow her human lover some air.

Arthur was a little red in the face from his experience, but it was absolutely no surprise that he was smiling.

A moment passed between them, unspoken words exchanged by moonlight, that conveyed the sum total of the other's soul. The light reflected briefly off the precious tag in Wyn's ear, drawing Arthur's eye, and the enormity of the moment finally sank in.

Bronwyn was going to be a part of Arthur's life until the end of their days.

The epiphany played across his face for the cow girl to see, flowing from wide-eyed acknowledgement to the visible warm joy of acceptance. Bronwyn felt herself falling in love with him all over again.

A wan smile was shared, but as Arthur urged Bronwyn forwards towards another kiss she offered him slight resistance. He was about to ask why, though her actions provided him with the answer. The cow girl reached up and carefully slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders, pulling her arms free so that only her contours kept the form-fitting dress in place.

Even that didn't last.

A few deep breaths from Bronwyn saw the article fall, leaving her bare-breasted in the silvery darkness. Arthur would've liked to do the more gentlemanly thing, showing some restraint and simply admiring her form against the backdrop of the night. That option was wrought from his grasp by the sight of desire slowly smouldering in his bovine love's eyes, stoking his own in the process.

Instead, he leaned forwards and placed a kiss against her right breast, the cow girl's pointed nipple brushing across his lower lips as he traced a careful line of butterfly kisses. Erect from the cool night air or from anticipation, he couldn't tell, but the result was the same - a slight coo from Bronwyn as his lips tormented and teased their way in orbit around an areola.

When Bronwyn decided to carefully threw back their combined centre of mass by leaning away Arthur immediately understood her intention, allowing her movement to drive his own slow momentum forward. With a half-step he secured his footing, yielding to his knees and guiding Bronwyn to the ground in one fluid motion, her back bare against the cold grass with his own body pinning her down, separated by less than millimetres.

Bronwyn could see the gleam of intent in Arthur's eye. She knew what he wanted to do.

"Go for it." she breathed airily.

"We're going to ruin your dress." Arthur warned, though it was clearly more of an afterthought.

"Meh." Bronwyn agreed.

A moment later he felt her fingers at the belt of his trousers.

Reaching down her body Arthur found the lower hem of her dress, taking a soft grip of the fabric and slowly running it up her legs, the backs of his fingers tracing against the lay of her fur. They drew upwards, over her inner thighs, to his surprise reaching all the way to the top without impediment.

She wasn't wearing any underwear.

But more than that, Arthur could feel the heat and dampness from her core. She was ready for him.

When Bronwyn had finished relieving him of his trousers and underwear it was obvious that he was more than ready for her too.

"No foreplay?" he teased.

Bronwyn rolled her eyes, her hand grasping him and pulling him forwards.

"If you think this is all about the Big O," she guided his tip to her entrance, "Then you're missing the point." She stuck out her tongue playfully.

When Arthur pushed forwards with his hips she bit her tongue and moaned.

"I think I get it." he breathed.

Bronwyn's hands found their way to pressing down on his upper back, allowing her to use his body to pin herself to the ground as he entered her completely. Chest to chest, wrapping him in her arms and legs, she felt almost as if he were physically a part of her now.

Bronwyn drew in a sharp breath when he moved to withdraw, the breath turning into a gratified moan with his return thrust, Arthur seeking to stifle it by capturing her lips with his own.

She mooed as he set a firm pace against her, his lips in suit tracing dainty steps from her lips, across her cheek, to the spot just behind her ear. The ticklish sensation made Bronwyn's ear flick reflexively, itself brushing against Arthur's cheek. Both lovers chuckled between breaths, Bronwyn feeling Arthur's affectionate kiss just below the base of one horn a moment after.

The bistre fur of the cow girl's neck bristled as her human lover's lips resumed their work down the deeply coloured line of her neck, finding welcome harbour where it met her collar-bone. Bronwyn's entire body shivered as a contented moan overtook her, the sensation an almost ineffably pleasant one. Less than an instant later she could feel Arthur's hand grasp firmly at her breast, offering an insistent squeeze. Though no match to its target in scale his grip found all the right spots, Bronwyn arching her back as she gasped in reply.

Whilst one hand held firmly at her lover's back, Bronwyn brought the other around to place it flat against her pelvis and sliding it between them, fingers splayed wide around her lips, where the boundary between the two lovers faded to meaningless insignificance.

Giving her fingers a momentary squeeze increased the pressure on Arthur's length significantly, and slightly altered his angle of attack, causing her to gasp and him to grunt. Still, it wasn't entirely comfortable, so Bronwyn put her fingers to better use, seeking out her sensitive nub just above their pairing.

She knew she'd found it by feel when the muscles in her legs flexed involuntarily and she felt her pelvic floor tighten around Arthur.

"Wyn..." he almost whimpered.

She had no words to offer in response, repeating the motion instead to great effect. Between her own motions and Arthur's wandering attentions, the sound of their gasps and lovemaking, and the way the moonlight reflected off the lust in his eyes and the sweat on his brow, Bronwyn's senses were being pulled in so many different directions she was all but overwhelmed.

It seemed to be much worse for Arthur.

His rhythm was becoming erratic. When Bronwyn felt his hands move to her waist, fingertips digging in as he held her down, the cow girl knew that he wouldn't last much longer.

With a sly smirk she jerked her pelvis in time with his every inward thrust, gripping at him as she tensed her muscles when he hilted and began to withdraw, trying to force his climax.

It didn't take much.

Arthur's hips slammed into her with enough force to make the cow girl grunt, pinning her hand between them, her back arching. She felt her lover's muscles flex. She heard him groan. She felt him throb.

She felt him pulse inside her, the sensations combining with the vivid mental image of the act making her toes curl and her tail flick.

Oh, how Bronwyn relished it.

Arthur let his elbows go weak, falling onto the cow girl beneath, their lips meeting for an impassioned kiss.

Bronwyn's free hand cupped his cheek as they parted, and she was pleased when Arthur made no move to part from her. Perhaps his legs were still too weak, or maybe he simply didn't want to move? She hoped for the latter. But either way she was content to just lay there in the darkness, cradled between the soft grass and her lover's overheated body.

"Are you warm enough?" was the first thing Arthur asked when he caught his breath.

Bronwyn chuckled at the randomness of the question, "Fur. You?"

"A bit nippy." He admitted.

Bronwyn pulled him in as closely as she could. Then, with a strength practically belied by her smaller form, she rolled the two of them over so that she was on top, laid over him like a living furry blanket.

"I'll keep you warm." She offered, resting her head against his chest, careful of her horns.

They stayed there for a while in one-another's embrace. Bronwyn listened contentedly to the steady beat of her lover's heart, whilst Arthur looked beyond her up at the stars.

Silence fell and welcomed them into the night.

-o-O-o-

Bronwyn

Everyday Hurts

-o-O-o-

By Sval

Author's Note: First off, I'd like to say that I'm not completely happy with this piece. Something about it still feels off, even with all the ways I've reworked it, and I just can't seem to put my finger on it. I'm not sure if it's the pacing or that it just feels a bit flat to me. So any constructive input into how you feel about this will be very much appreciated.

I've tried to delve a little bit into a couple of different themes in this plot, brushing upon the differences and similarities between their society and ours. The way Anthromorphs are treated by both humans and each other, exploring different constructs for family units, etc. Nothing too heavy, really, but some of it sets up future plot ideas.

Oh, and we got to know Aracelia a little bit better. She's inspired by a piece of art in much the same way as Bronwyn, but sadly I don't have the permission to tie that in with my works. Shame, because she's quite the fetching feline. It felt like I wasn't really doing her justice, using her purely as a plot device, but she'll become more relevant and more involved in the story as we move forwards. Friend, foe, or competitor for Arthur's affections? Well, you'll see.

My usual thanks go to CyanCapsule for the picture that inspired the series, and for granting me permission to use her. You wouldn't be reading this if not for that work of art (click here for the original work).

And as always thank you all for reading.