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idiopath-fic-smile · 1 year ago

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this one goes out to all my Singin' in the Rain ot3 truthers—

Cosmo Brown had always known it would end like this.

Cosmo was a lot of things—in fact, you could argue he was too many—but he wasn’t dumb.

From the early years, when Cosmo and Don were just kids playing for pennies in pool halls, to their stint dodging rotten vegetables on Vaudeville stages across the very backwaters of America’s backwaters, to their first real breath of success in Hollywood (and then the second and the third and the fourth), Cosmo would catch a glimpse of his handsome, charismatic friend from the corner of his eye—a flash of dark hair, that perfect tooth powder ad smile—and know that for all Don’s protestations, someday the guy was gonna meet a wonderful girl and get married, settle down, and very gently slip off to the far edge of Cosmo’s life.

So yes, Cosmo had seen Kathy Selden coming. Not the details, not her sense of humor or her musical little laugh or the madcap way she really threw herself into dancing with them around Don’s place at 1:30 in the morning—and okay, certainly not the part at the beginning where she had jumped out of a cake at a party, but he thought a fella could be excused for not correctly divining that.

The general outline of the thing, though, how Don’s eyes followed her around a room...he had been preparing for Don to propose to Kathy ever since she’d tried to throw a pie at Don’s face. And when the happy day came, Cosmo had been ready with his best man suit, his best man speech, a slightly updated version of “Here Comes the Bride” that’d had Don and Kathy laughing all the way down the aisle.

Don and Kathy would buy a house together. They would have a swimming pool and a dog and then inevitably, a small parade of adorable little snot-nosed kids who would call him Uncle Cosmo, and they would spend less and less time with him, not on purpose but busy with the rest of their lives, and ultimately Cosmo would learn to make his peace with it because he’d have no other choice and he would have to try to move on and not live too much in his memories. He could picture it so clearly, he figured if the songwriting gig with Monumental didn’t pan out, he could always return to the backwater circuit with a new act: The Amazing Cosmo of the Cosmos—ladies and gentlemen, he sees the future, he reads the stars, he silently pines for his best married pal and all the while tap dancing!

Don and Kathy inviting him along on their honeymoon, though—that part was a surprise.

“What?” said Cosmo, hands frozen over the piano keys. He’d been busy with a brand-new assignment; on the heels of The Dancing Cavalier, offers were pouring in and he’d taken the first one scoring a movie that didn’t star anyone he was secretly in love with.

Don had looked a little wounded when Cosmo broke the news last week, but a guy had to start making his own way in the world. Besides, orchestrating layers of strings to swell as the camera zoomed in on Don and Kathy blissfully locking lips in radiant monochrome, oblivious to the rest of the world—well, Cosmo knew that dance, he had mastered the footwork, and he didn’t especially feel like a reprise.

It wasn’t lost on him that Kathy had dropped by his rehearsal space alone today. Of course, he had no idea what this meant—he didn’t think it was about the new job; Don didn’t tend to stay sore at him for that long—but Kathy was acting perfectly natural, and so probably the smart thing was to follow her lead.

“It’s a two-week transatlantic cruise,” she said now, gracefully dropping beside him on the piano bench. “We thought it would be nice to see Europe, take in the sights, get away from all the cameras.”

“Ah yes, such a wallflower, our dear Don,” said Cosmo solemnly. “Besieged on all sides by the love of his public, a tragedy of our times, up there with Lear! Hamlet! Caesar! The one with all the Greeks and the giant wooden horse, nay, nay, neigh.” He played a tragic little trill, for effect. Kathy huffed a laugh and smacked his arm.

“You know that’s not it,” she said. “Being watched all the time—we can’t always do what we want. It’s rotten.”

Tell me about it, thought Cosmo.

He was sort of seeing a fight choreographer named Archibald, who came from old money and was a “the third” or a “the fifth” but nice enough Cosmo might even forgive him for that. Archibald was trim and athletic, with dark brown hair that was just starting to go gray at the temples and enough discretion that Cosmo didn’t think they’d get caught. The only problem was that he didn’t laugh at Cosmo’s jokes, seemed to just tolerate them.

“What do you two even talk about, then?” Don had asked, when Cosmo had let this slip over drinks the same night he’d explained about the new movie project. (Cosmo had been trying to spend less time with Don and Kathy since the wedding but Don had said, “C’mon, pal, we miss you” and Kathy had laid one hand on his arm and peered up at him with her big green eyes and Cosmo was only one man.)

Cosmo had frowned, because Don hated Archibald, for reasons that were frankly mysterious. Then he’d looked up and grinned a grin he didn’t exactly feel and said,

“Tell you when you’re older,” and then Don had choked on his dry Martini even though Cosmo knew Don knew about Cosmo’s tendencies. It wasn’t something they discussed, and Cosmo had never properly gone with a guy before, but whenever a big-shot producer started complaining about all the degenerate queers in showbiz, Don always sharply steered the conversation someplace else. It was all very gallant and noble and knightly, and someday Don would play King Arthur and Kathy his lady Guinevere—

“Honestly, sometimes it feels as if we’re living in a fishbowl,” said Kathy now, in the present.

“And so your solution is to relocate,” said Cosmo, “to the biggest fishbowl on this here magnificent earth. The mighty ocean!” He struck up a sea shanty. “Oh blow the man down, blow the man down / way ay, blow the man down…”

Not everyone appreciated his musical flights of fancy, but when Cosmo turned, she was leaning with her elbow on the side arm of the piano, watching him with her chin on her hand and laughing.

“Just for two weeks,” she said. “So, are you coming?”

“With you two,” said Cosmo, just so there could be no misunderstandings. “On your one and only honeymoon.”

“Yes,” said Kathy.

“As what, your first mate?”

“Sure.” She grinned and threw him a quick salute. Cosmo was almost never attracted to women but in this case, he understood the appeal.

He swallowed. “You are aware of that ancient saying, ‘Two’s company and three’s a fast track to divorce court’?”

“You’re hardly a threat to our marriage, Cosmo,” she said, and he agreed, of course, in both directions, even, but it still stung to hear her say it out loud. For want of anything better to do, he gasped, clutched a hand to his chest and reeled backwards so hard, he threw himself off the piano bench, landing in a somersault on the floor.

Kathy spun around fluidly on the bench to face him, pleated skirt whirling a little, heels of her shoes clicking together.

“Oh, I said that badly,” she said. “I only mean that it’s more fun when you’re around. We have a better time, Don and me both. Remember the night we decided to make Dueling Cavalier a musical?”

“Do I remember the best night of my life?” Cosmo peered up at her from the hardwood. “Why yes, madam, now that you mention it, I believe it might ring a bell or two.”

“The best—” She frowned for a moment, and he remembered then that as a newly married woman, a newly married woman to Don Lockwood, no less, she’d no doubt experienced any number of evenings that blew that one out of the water.

Even besides that, it felt awfully revealing all of a sudden. Cosmo threw an arm over his eyes. He felt naked. He wished he was naked, because that might at least distract from whatever his face was doing.

“So it beats your time with Archibald, then?” said Kathy shrewdly.

Cosmo uncovered his eyes. He forgot, sometimes, that new as Kathy was to the moving pictures business, she was still a city girl, with a city girl’s worldliness. Also, Don had probably told her; that seemed like the kind of second-hand secrets married people shared with each other. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Hardly a topic for mixed company,” he said.

There was a pause.

“So yes,” she said and smiled with a smugness that would’ve been unbecoming were she not as cute as a button.

“What do you and Don have against the poor man anyway?” he groused. “He’s never done so much as sneezed in your direction, and if he did, I’m sure he’d use a handkerchief.”

“For one thing, we know you could do better,” said Kathy, folding her arms.

Cosmo elbowed his way back to sitting, brushing himself off with dignity. “Well, better’s not exactly knocking on my door right now.”

“This town doesn’t have an ounce of sense.” She reached down to offer him a hand up, pulling Cosmo to his feet; she was stronger than she looked. “Listen, two weeks away, it’ll be good for you.”

“What about you two?” Cosmo protested as he reclaimed his spot on the bench, Kathy sliding to make room.

“What about us?” said Kathy with wide eyes.

“Two newlyweds might want some alone time?” he offered weakly.

Kathy shrugged. “I told you, there won’t be reporters or cameras. It’ll be plenty private.”

“What about your matrimonial needs?”

“Which needs?”

His eyes narrowed; she was a terrific actress but suddenly he wasn’t sure he was buying it. Kathy wasn’t dumb either.

“You have to know what I mean. Don’t make me play Cole Porter at you,” said Cosmo. She hesitated, and Cosmo began to pluck out a melody: “Birds do it, bees do it / even educated fleas do it…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Let’s do it,” sang Kathy, finishing the stanza in her lovely alto, “let’s fall in love.”

Cosmo stopped playing.

“I do know,” she said simply, “of course I do, and we’re not worried about it, alright? Listen, do you want to go?”

Cosmo, who had been carefully not asking himself that question, stared down at the piano keys. Did he want to go? He thought back to that night at Don’s, the three of them giddy with excitement and inspiration and sleep deprivation, running through the house, clowning around and dancing with no audience except each other—he hadn’t felt like a hanger-on then, like a third wheel or an extra limb or a chaperone. He’d felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, one note of a perfect chord.

Still.

“I can’t swim,” he said.

“They’ll have lifejackets,” said Kathy.

“I’ll have to work.”

“We’ll bring a piano.”

“All my houseplants will die,” said Cosmo.

“All your houseplants are fake,” she said. This was true, although he wasn’t sure how she knew since she’d never been to his house. She sighed. “Remember the night of that first screening, when you were about to expose Lina and instead of explaining what was happening, Don told me I had to sing, that I didn’t have a choice?”

He winced, thinking of Kathy’s heartbroken, tear-stained face before they’d pulled up the curtain and revealed who was really singing when Lina moved her lips.

“Yes, and I feel just awful about it.”

“Well, Don doesn’t,” said Kathy. “Because he knew it would take too long to convince me to do something that mean to her.”

“Mean?” Cosmo echoed. “She tried to trap you in a lifelong contract and steal your voice. A common sea witch wouldn’t stoop so low.”

“But there wasn’t time,” she pressed. “And anyway, he knew how it would end.”

“What’s your point?”

“We already bought your tickets,” said Kathy.

Cosmo gaped at her.

“We’ve cleared the trip with everyone at Monumental and anyway, like I said, we’ll have a piano on the boat.”

Distantly, he was aware his mouth was still hanging open. Kathy reached over with one light finger under his chin and gently closed it.

“That’s better,” she said, folding her hands daintily in her lap. It was around this time she seemed to realize it wasn’t some routine, that Cosmo really was well and truly stunned. “Of course, nobody is going to force you to go with us if you truly don’t want to,” she said into the silence.

“These tickets,” he said at last, “are they refundable?”

“Gosh,” said Kathy easily, “I can’t imagine they are, no.”

The thing was, none of them were hurting for money or work anymore, so the fact that Don and Kathy might be out even a few hundred dollars didn’t catch at him the way it might’ve some years earlier. No, the thought that really seized his imagination was the mental image of Don and Kathy planning this together, Don and Kathy discussing the matter with each other, maybe over breakfast—toast and coffee in their dressing gowns, so sure it was the right thing to do that they’d decided to just go ahead and make preparations: oh and a ticket for Cosmo, of course.

He could do it, he realized. He could go. He wanted to go. It was foolish, but Cosmo was an entertainer; he’d been doing foolish things in front of a roomful of witnesses since he was in shortpants.

“I’ll pack tonight,” he said.

“Perfect!” Kathy hopped off the bench and straightened out her dress. “And bring something nice to wear at dinner for a night or two; it doesn’t need to be black-tie formal, a good suit will do.”

He nodded. “I shall leave the top hat and monocle at home. Two weeks, you say?”

“Yes, and another half-day on either side flying to the harbor and back.” She reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “The itinerary,” she said. “Don and I are so glad you’ll be coming.”

“Uh-huh,” said Cosmo. “Say, where is that fella, anyway? What’s the big idea, can’t even stick around to ask his best pal to his own honeymoon?”

“He’s planning the trip,” said Kathy brightly. “Last-minute details. Anyway, he thought you and I should have a chat, one on one. He thought it might help.”

He blinked. “Help what?”

“Help us,” she said.

It was all starting to feel like a farce, like one of those old Vaudeville acts with a lot of fast talking.

“Did it?” he asked.

“I think so,” said Kathy warmly. She turned and began to walk towards the door. “See you at the airport tomorrow. Six AM sharp.”

“Six AM,” he said, and then, foolishly, “You know, I can see why he likes you.”

Kathy dimpled. “Oh, likewise!” She tossed him another smile and then she was heading out of sight down the hallway, shoes clacking rhythmically on the tile.

“Well,” said Cosmo to no one. He felt pole-axed, he decided. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt pole-axed in his life before, but there was no other word for it.

He played a chord, then another chord, then a few more.

“Pole-axed,” he sang, “out of whack, when you are near there’s only one drawback: I can’t be clever, no I lack the knack, Darling, I’m pole-axed, out of whack around you!”

It wasn’t exactly Cole Porter, but he’d take it, he thought, reaching for his pen. There was still an hour or two left before he’d need to race traffic home and dig out his suitcase. Apparently, he had early morning plans.

(ETA: if you didn't see, there is now a second part here!)

(ETA THE SECOND: the whole finished thing is now here!

#singin in the rain ot3 #i might write more idk but listen like you can probably imagine the rest of it #old-timey polyamorous shenanigans on a boat #pretty straightforward stuff #there's singing there's dancing and somehow don managed to 'accidentally' book cosmo in an adjoining bedroom etc etc

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klunkcat · 2 months ago

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50 VAGUE ANGSTY + HURT/COMFORT DIALOGUE PROMPTS

42. "Tell me what I did wrong! What's wrong with me?!" + rise A Team 🥺

You keep requesting things that I know will hurt ur feelings!!!

TW: panic attack, derealization/dissociation

Waking up in the med bay had been less painful than this. He’d broken fourteen bones and fractured three more, been coughing up blood and some thick substance he was very sure was never supposed to be on the outside but he’d thought, ‘hey, we won’.

This didn’t feel like winning. This felt like standing on the other side of a very long tunnel and seeing the world from a sideways tilt.

He’d been allowed out of the med bay for a glorious two days– mostly to lay up on the couch instead of the stiff medical room— and missed somewhere that the world had actually ended. Because when Raph leaned over him to grab his glass of water on the table beside him, Leo flinched.

It wasn’t him, he decided. Because Leo had never once in his life feared anything from his big brother, not even when Raph had gone through his snapping phase. Because Raph was Raph and that meant the biggest warmest hugs you could imagine, and big wet watering eyes and crying over commercials with kittens that sneezed too hard. It couldn’t be him that saw Raph moving forward and thought of pink, slimy tendrils, and felt his airways closing with a sharp thrum of oh god and I’m going to die, because that didn’t make sense.

Raph froze, eyes wide. Leo fell further outside himself.

The other him made his hand move, he didn’t feel it move. The other him spoke.

“Oh, ha. Sorry, static must have shocked me.” From the blankets, yeah. That made sense. This other him that jumped at things at least had his wits, that was reassuring.

“Leo,” Raph said very slowly. Some hindbrain red alert crawled all the way up from his heart and right out his mouth, and into that other version of him that was staying very still.

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.”

Raph put his arm down just as slowly, leaned back like he could telegraph every moment. His eyes stayed wide and locked on to him. “Okay, that’s okay.”

“It wasn’t you,” the other him said, and Leo couldn’t feel his lips moving but he desperately wanted to be able to shut him up. “It wasn’t um— just. Jumpy. Pulled something funny, you know with the. The bandages.”

Shit, Leo thought. Stick to the script, pal.

“Right,” Raph said, without blinking. Like he was thinking something else.

“Don’t do that,” other him said. “Okay, the big brother voice thing. I don’t need it, let’s just. Watch the movie, right?”

He was suddenly aware of Donnie by his kneecaps, Mikey staring at him from the mound of pillows he’d made at Don’s legs. He needed this other him to shape up, acting classes were a must. He was flubbing big time, Leo did not flub.

Raph shifted again, molasses slow, and gave Donnie a look. His twins face twitched with a nod, and he summarily picked up Mikey, blanket and all and shuffled into his lab. Traitor, Leo thought vaguely. Pincer attack, coordinated front. He hated that. That was his and Don’s thing.

Stepping on my turf, he meant to say. Other Leo’s mouth didn’t move, so he was useless.

“Actually, Raph’s a little worried.”

Oh, Leo thought, oh no. Fear lanced through him again, in some distant way. He could see his fingers twitching and couldn’t make them stop. “Worried? About what. Can I help, big guy?”

Raph hummed. “Think you could, yeah. We haven’t talked about everything that happened, have we?”

Well, Mikey had made him talk a little, about why he thought it would be okay to choose himself without telling anyone else first. Hugged him as tightly as he could with Leo’s broken ribs for three solid hours until Leo’d given in and promised he’d be kinder to himself. Donnie had been furious at him for three straight days somewhere after he’d blearily woken up from his coma, but they hadn’t talked directly about why yet. Suddenly, the look he’d caught clicks.

He was still too outside himself to react the right way. Other Leo looked away and twisted the blanket in his hands.

Ever so slowly, he felt Raph’s warm hand land on his knee. He could see it, his big brother’s hand, green and normal. No spikes, no pink. He could breathe out— there was a rope somewhere there that guides him closer enough that he can flip his own hand around and squeeze.

“Nothing to talk about, bro bro,” Leo managed, but it was croaky and lacking all the usual fizz. Fizzless, him. The horror was nearly too much to think about.

The look Raph gave him was half a wince of apology, half tangled up exasperation. He didn’t like that there was guilt there. That didn’t fit. Raph hadn’t done a single thing wrong.

“Leo.”

He made himself swallow. “Raphala.”

Raph sighed. Flipped Leo’s hand over so he could stare down at the bandages crossing his palm. He’d burnt the inside of his fingers somehow, he couldn’t even say when it happened. Silly, really. He’d laughed when Don had told him. Come to think of it, Dee hadn’t really looked like he’d agreed with the joke then either.

He watched the way Raph traced his thumb across the white gauze, the way his face twisted and crashed down with mounting horror.

“I’m so sorry, Leo. You know I love you, right?”

Other Leo made a second appearance, making his hands go numb. “I— of course? I love you too, what does that—?”

Raph’s non bandaged eye blazed when he looked up at him, swimming in the dim movie light. “I hurt you, Leo. I took your trust and I hurt you with it. Raphie’s so sorry.”

That didn’t— Leo blinked rapidly. The world fell out of focus, clicked free of its puzzle piece board. Out into the ether. “Stop apologizing.”

“Leo—”

“No!” Other him said it sharp, loud. Too electric behind the words, he winced at himself and didn’t feel his face move. “You don’t— you don’t get to apologize to me. That doesn’t— what are you talking about Raph?”

Somehow his brother’s face only fell further, it made the panic in Leo’s chest sticky. “I said that wrong, I don’t—” It was so hard to think, why couldn’t he make himself think? “I’m not afraid of you! I’m not.” He wasn’t. Because it was Raph.

“It’s okay if you are, buddy. Raph understands—”

“I’m not!” Leo bit out, and blinked rapidly again as the world falls further out to sea. “I put you in danger, I jumped in and— I did something stupid, and you got brainwashed. Because I fucked up. Why aren’t you mad at me? Tell me what I did wrong!”

What’s wrong with me, he thought, vibrant and liquid like toxic sludge seeping down to his core.

He couldn’t even see right anymore, everything had gone shapes and colors. It wasn’t even Raph in front of him, it was something. It was nothing and—

“--breathe with me, okay? In. Out, that’s it. That’s perfect, Bug, keep doing that.”

The Bug snapped him together, pulls all of his strings forward. Raph hadn’t called him that since they were toddlers, when he and Donnie had started insisting being twins and Raph tried to play along. Bug and Boo, he’d said all proud. Donnie had hated it instantly and rebuked any attempt at being called something so sweet by biting. Leo’d tried to make it fit a little better, since Raph seemed to like it so much.

‘S it b’cause I bug you?’ Leo’d said, sad and puddling up but hiding it with a teasing smile he knew would make the hurting less loud.

Raph had smoothed his hand across his head and grinned. ‘It’s cause you’re my favorite bug.’ But it sounded like a good thing when Raph said it.

Leo forced in a breath, feels his hands become his hands and his toes firmly plant as his toes. “Sorry,” he managed. “Sorry, went. Um. Somewhere. Back.”

Raph’s big worried eye peered down at him, he let go of Leo’s hand with a firm squeeze. Leo shook his head, clearing out all the fuzz as much as he could.

“I need you to hear me, just for a second. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Raph tried, worry making his voice small. “Can you believe me on that one thing? You were brave, and you got us through it, and most importantly you got Leo through it. I’m not mad.”

Leo scoffed, staring down at the blanket instead. Raph carefully scrubs a hand across the top of Leo’s head, warm and calloused the way he knows.

“Raph wanted you safe. That’s all. And I hurt you, so it’s okay if you— if you need time.”

Leo snapped his eyes up, grabbing at Raph’s hand again even before he pulled away. “I don’t! I don’t need you to go anywhere, or leave or. Please don’t leave.”

Raph’s face gentled.

“Can we just,” Leo couldn’t look at him, he couldn’t. “Can we just stay here for a minute? Maybe talking can be later.” When it wasn’t him and other him preferably, so he could say things the right way.

“Okay.”

Raph settled back on the couch, slowly lifting his arm free and telegraphing the space underneath for Leo to decide. As if he needed to decide, the best place in the world was in Raph’s hugs. He’d always fit perfect there.

Raph smoothed his hand across Leo’s head with his thumb, back and forth.The warmth pulled him all the way back into himself, almost with a shudder. Leo squeezed his eyes shut and buried his snout further into Raph’s side. It made him brave. “I’m not scared of you. I’ve never been scared of you, big guy.”

Raph’s thumb paused. Smoothed back again. “It’s okay if you are. That was… pretty scary.”

Leo shook his head stubbornly. “Wasn’t you. I know my big brother anywhere. That wasn’t him.”

He pretended kindly not to hear the hitch in Raph’s breathing. The warm chuckle after is like lottery gold.

“Thanks, bug. I know you, too.”

#rottmnt #my fic #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #rise of the tmnt #writing prompt #goodlucktai #there's probably more that should go at the end but i hope the mental image of Don trudging into his room with burrito'd mikey helps

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