>morning comes and you wake up
>yay, no headache
>you realize you're not alone in bed
>she is curled up under the blankets next to you
>you waking up wakes her up
>”I'm sorry, I just couldn't sleep on the couch alone. Plus it was cold and I couldn't find blankets.”
“It's okay, I don't mind. I usually don't turn the heat on until after Halloween and I didn't even think about it. Sorry about that.”
>”Are you feeling better today?”
“Yeah, I'm okay now. Want some breakfast?”
>she perks up at this
>”Sure! What do you want me to-”
>you gently interrupt her
“We never got to the bottom of things yesterday, so right now you're still a guest in my house. So I'll cook for you. Bacon and eggs okay?”
>she nods happily and burrows under the comforter
>climb out of bed
>head into the kitchen and fire up the stove
>start making breakfast for you and her
>3 scrambled eggs each, plus bacon
>just as it's done she walks into the kitchen
>she's wearing one of your T-shirts
>she stretches and yawns
>aaand white panties underneath
>blush and glance away
“Breakfast is ready. Silverware's in the top drawer, glasses in the cabinet to the right of the sink.”
>”OK!” she chirps happily
>she scampers off into the dining room
“And put some pants on!”
>”Awwwwwwwww, you're no fun!”
>turn off the stove and clean up the cooking mess
>grab your own plate and glass of juice
>walk into the dining room
>she's already halfway done with her food
>she's wearing a pair of your shorts with an old belt of yours
>they're comically oversized on her
>she notices you walk in, and points to the shorts
>”Better?” she says dramatically
“For now. We need to get you clothes in your size though.”
>”But I like wearing your clothes!”
“But they're my clothes! We can get you your own.”
>”Fine, whatever,” she says, kinda dejectedly
>you sit and eat in silence for a few minutes
>she's finished her food and is just watching you
“What?”
>”Nothing, just watching you.”
“Quit it, makes me feel weird.”
>”Okay, okay, geez.”
>she gathers up her dishes and puts them in the sink
>you finish eating a minute or two later, and carry your dishes into the kitchen
>she is humming cheerfully and tunelessly to herself while washing dishes by hand 
“You don't have to do that, you know.”
>she starts just a bit, like she'd momentarily forgotten you're there
>”You made breakfast, it's the least I can do.”
“I suppose so, but I meant that I've got a dishwasher. You don't have to do it by hand.”
>she looks at you like you've just proposed using .17HMR as an African big game hunting round
>”Dishwashers suck! They always leave spots and stuff. Only way to do it right is by hand. That's what he always told me.”
“Who's he?
>she scrubbed away at dishes absent-mindedly as you talk
>”My old owner. He got me brand-new from a big gun store – I was so nervous there, with the big racks of all kinds of interesting guns. I thought with all those choices nobody'd ever pick me! But he did. Him and his wife weren't able to have kids, so once I finally got the courage to show myself like this I was like the daughter they never had.”
>she smiles slightly while reminiscing, then the smile fades slightly
>”She passed away in 1985. Cancer. After that, it was just him and I. I helped him through his rough times, and he taught me everything he could. I couldn't stay with him forever, though. The last thing he did before he had to go into hospice care and sign away power of attorney was to find a new home for me. He said he owed it to me to find me someone that would take care of me. I still miss them, they were my family for a long time.”
>this explains why he darn near gave you an interrogation through email before selling you her
>you figured he was just old and eccentric
>the mood is somber in the kitchen for a moment, then she turns to you with a smile
>”But now I get to have a new family, with you. So I know they will be happy about that!”
>you're caught off-guard for a second, before returning her smile
>you might not have all the answers, but you have enough for now
>”So what are we doing today?”
“Well, I have to go to work in about an hour, and I have an 8 hour shift today.”
>”Ooh, where do you work? Can I come?”
“I work in a call center help desk. Pay's good, job sucks. And no, I can't bring you along.”
>”Why not?”
“They don't allow visitors. And if you're in gun form they'll think I've gone off the deep end.”
>you mock shooting a Thompson to illustrate the last part
>”What am I supposed to do all day without you?”
“I dunno. Go for a walk, watch movies, sleep, whatever you want. Mi casa es su casa.”
>she wrinkles her brows at you
>you guess she doesn't know any Spanish
”It means my house is your house.”
>she smiles at this
>”Well, I should hope so. Hard to stay by your side if it isn't.”
>you give her a quick hug and then go to your room to get dressed for work
>as you head out the door for work she gives you a kiss on the cheek
>”Don't have too much fun, kay?”
“Trust me, I won't. See you later.”
>your drive in to work was uneventful, the work day soul-crushing and miserable
>as you work with a customer on the phone, they're chattering away about inconsequential stuff
>they mention a family member's birthday coming up
>you have a sudden realization
>check the date
>it's October 4th
>it's your rifle's birthday
>shit
>you have to get her something
>you mull that idea over until you get your lunch break
>instead of fast food, you drive to the nearby grocery store with a bakery
>they do custom cakes
>you don't know if a rifle can eat cake, but it's the thought that counts right?
>you pick out from their catalog a design of a bullseye and the phrase “Hope your birthday is right on target!”
>it's a bit cheesy but you hope she likes it
>bakery says it'll be ready for pickup by the time your shift is over 
>make it back to work just in time
>after shift, you pick up the cake
>on the way home, you stop at your local gun store
>pick up a pair of BX-25 mags, a box of CCI Quiet-22, and a box of CCI Copper-22
>the clerk gives you a funny look and shakes his head when you ask about gift wrapping
>when you pull in the driveway you can see her watching you through one of the windows
>she sees you trying to carry a bag from the store and the cake and opens the door for you
>”Welcome home! Who's the cake for?”
>you carry the cake inside and set it down on the kitchen countertop before answering her question
“It's for you. Happy birthday!”
>she stops with a puzzled look on her face, then suddenly realizes
>”Oh my gosh, with all the commotion and the moving, I forgot about it completely!”
>you hold up the bag from the gun store
“Got you some presents too, for tonight.”
>she looks at the bag and blushes
>”Wow, and here you say I move too fast for you.”
>oh boy here we go
“Not THAT kind of present. Present for going out shooting tonight.”
>you fish out a BX-25 from the bag and hold it up for her
>”No way! I've always wanted one of those. But I always got told “ten shots is more than enough if you know what you're doing.””
“Then how'd you end up with a drum?” you ask confused
>”That was a gift from a family friend. You're the first one to use it though.”
>she smiles a bit and changes the subject
>”I made dinner! So put away presents for now and let's eat!”
>she did the best she could with the limited groceries in the house and no money to buy more
>dinner was really good
>afterwards you manage to scrounge up a candle to put on her piece of cake
>as you carry her slice of cake out to her, you sing her “Happy Birthday”
“Make a wish and blow out the candle!”
>she looks at you, not just a look, but a deep look
>like she's trying to memorize every millimeter of your face
>then she closes her eyes and blows out the candle
>after cake she comes over to you and starts tugging on your shift
>”Can we go shooting now? Can we? Canwecanwecanwe-”
>maybe all that sugar in the cake wasn't the best idea
“Yes, we can go. Go get your magazines and the range bag”
>almost as soon as the words leave your mouth she's back next to you with all the gear
>she even has the bag with her presents
>you two head out to the car and drive out to the barn
>she's loading the BX-25's as you drive, humming happily to herself
>you barely have the car stopped before she's jumping out and running to the shooting line
>”Anoooon, hurry up you slowpoke!”
>as you walk up to her she's practically bouncing from excitement
>”Okay, this one has the quiet ones, this one has the copper ones.”
>she points at each BX mag to identify them
“Which do you want to try first?”
>”Hmmm.... let's try the quiet ones!”
>you put on your earpro and eye protection
>she giggles at how you look, jumps into your arms, and gives you a kiss on the cheek before transforming
>you insert the mag with the quiet rounds and chamber a round
>take aim at the closer target
>bang
>huh, that is pretty quiet
>bang
>bang
>bang
>bang
>suddenly you feel the rifle tremble in your arms a bit
>she transforms back into girl form
>the mag falls to the ground
>she's coughing
>spits out an unfired round
>”Ugh, those taste awful!It's worse than that orange bore cleaner!”
>she makes a big production of clearing the taste out of her mouth
>”Never get those again, okay? Those are worse than Golden Bullet.”
“Okay, okay, message loud and clear.”
>looks like more food for the bolt-action
>you're pretty sure it's not capable of complaining about what you feed it
“Do you want to try the other ones?”
>she seems a bit hesitant
>”Might as well, we brought them out here”
>she adeptly loads a 10-rounder with the Copper-22s
>she hops into your arms again and becomes a 10/22
>*your* 10/22
>you load the 10-rounder and chamber a round
>aim at the printer
>BANG!
>tears a chunk out of the printer
>sounds dramatically louder than any other 22 round you've used
>after 10 rounds you eject the clip
>you like them but you wonder if she does
>she changes back in your arms
>she's disheveled and a bit trembly
“I take it you like those?”
>she half-heartedly swats at you
>”Don't be a smart-ass about it,” she says in a slightly out-of-breath voice
>you smile at her, the very image of innocence
“Do you want to try 25 of those?”
>she nods her head eagerly
>”But take it slow, okay?”
>she turns back into rifle form in your arms as you insert the BX mag of Copper-22s
>a small devilish smile appears on your face as you aim at the targets
“Y'know, I've always had trouble with slow.”
>you start firing at the targets
>slow shots at first
>then rapidly becoming faster and faster shots
>you start having to fight the recoil and barrel climb pretty hard
>just as you reach the end of the mag, the gun feels like it went limp in your hands
>drop the empty mag
>she turns back into female form
>she's extremely disheveled
>she's quivering in your arms and panting
>her eyes are almost closed
>”...you bastard... I know you did that... on purpose... I'll get you” she says weakly
“Aw, c'mon. It's not like you didn't enjoy it,” you tease her gently
>you get no reply as you've worn her out so much she's fallen asleep
>you gently carry her to the car and set her down, then gather up the supplies
>you also remind yourself to buy a case of that ammo
>when you get home you put all the supplies right by the door, then carry her inside
>you carry her right to bed and lay her down
>you notice the time on the alarm clock – about that time for you too
>you take a quick shower and get stuff ready for tomorrow
>also you put the rest of the cake into the fridge so it doesn't go bad
>after all that is done, you go to your bedroom
>gently you climb into bed so as not to disturb her
>you curl around her, the big spoon to her little spoon
>you hold her tight as sleep carries you away too