#//this was kinda.. some metagoon practice 'cause I been thinking abt it lately too ;;

[skewed-logic]

It’s been two hours since Escargoon sat down at his desk with every intention of clocking some late night work on his next big project. The blueprints were spread open on the desk in front of him, along with one of his notebooks which was open to the most recent page of calculations and scribbled thoughts which he’d hatched over the past several nights. To most folks, these formulas and their corresponding hasty annotations might look a bit jumbled and abstract, and that was just as well. Couldn’t have these notes falling into the wrong hands. Not now, when what might be his greatest invention yet was so close at hand.

...That is, if he could muster the focus to work on it some more tonight.

No, instead he’d been sitting here letting his tea grow cold on the table beside him, his head in his hands, staring hard point blank at the page beneath his nose but otherwise being unable to focus. Science really is the last thing on his mind right now.

He’d been lingering long on how Meta Knight had touched his shell here recently... How he’d been acting with him. The purple eyes, the awkward attempts at reciprocating compliments, their somewhat regular lunch dates... how he never stepped away whenever Escargoon would test his physical boundaries. The things Escargoon had done with him lately, at least the two or so times he’d touched him, had been bold in a way that he’d thoroughly expected Meta Knight to find disagreeable— yet, the Knight had just stood there and let it happen. If anything, he seemed to be... confused by it, but not disinterested.

He lifted his head from his hands if only so he could rub at what would visually approximate the location of the bridge of his nose. He looked up at the corkboard in front of his desk. As chance would have it, right where he looked there was a picture of himself and Dedede standing out on the Castle walls with all of Dream Land sunny and brilliant behind them. Escargoon looked at this picture with a lot of sadness and... an underlying sense of profound yearning. It was a moment that should have been insignificant in the scheme of things, and... perhaps it was, at the time. But looking back... oh. He could remember how good he used to have it here. This was back when his employment was young. Back when life was good, when Dedede hadn’t yet shown his true nature. Back when he had let himself think that he had life by the horns.

In the picture, Dedede had one arm slung companionably around him, and the other held up in his customary peace sign. He was smiling, and so was Escargoon. Goon could remember distinctly even now, though this picture is over a hundred years old and it’s not clear by the angle of their pose, how he’d had occasion to put his arm around His Majesty right back for this picture. It had felt so good back then, to have the soft plush of his robe pressed against his side. To be allowed the privilege of pressing himself to Dedede as if they were together, even if it was just for that picture. That one moment of play-pretend.

He reached forward, plying the thumbtacks from the corners of the picture and held it in front of him so he could get a better look at it, and couldn’t help but ask himself with some degree of wonder, how he could’ve let himself be so naïve. 

He put the picture down on his desk again, square in the middle of the blueprint in fact, and leaned back in his chair a bit so he could cast his gaze to the ceiling. He sighed and willed those unhelpful thoughts out of his head.

Not for the first time lately do his thoughts turn to Meta Knight instead. This time, it’s the memory of their secret meeting in the hall which he’s turning over so carefully in his mind.

The deep blue of Meta Knight’s cape and his skin, how he seemed a drop of warm darkness in the golden hues of the sunset as it had filtered into the hallway... How Escargoon had called him his friend, and had reached for him emotionally, and the Knight had reached back physically. The profound gentleness in his touch when he set his hand on his shell...

Escargoon couldn’t help but linger on that too. Now that the war was through with him, through with everyone... he couldn’t help but wonder, was he always that gentle?

Something warm stirs in his chest at the thought, touching his heart like a caress. Would he be that gentle if they were to......?

...were to what?

Oh stars, was he really sitting here daydreaming about holding Meta Knight? He tries to sigh, but he can feel his throat closing up with emotion, making the air leave him almost in a gasp.

Yes, ok. So let’s say he were to hold him... Let’s think about that...

And... and what if... What if Meta Knight were to bring his hands up right back? What then? What if he took his mask off for him again, like he would do on their lunches? Only this time it’s so the cold metal of his mask doesn’t press coldly into his chest when he leaned forward into a hug. What would it feel like to have somebody hold him back the way he’d always held Dedede, only this time they’re doing it because they felt the same and not because they stood to gain something from faking it? What would it feel like to see the man beneath that carefully maintained outer persona look at him with soft wonder? To feel him lean into his touch, to hold him back like he needed him?

But... what were the chances of that? Meta Knight was likely just doing this because... well, Escargoon actually didn’t know. Maybe he felt sorry for him or something. Maybe he was tired of listening to him complain... What were the chances someone so wonderful could possibly find him interesting and worthwhile? It was probably just another Fool’s dream that Meta Knight might ever feel the same. Maybe... he had been reading too much into his behavior with him lately... He could never think like this about him, too... could he?