#anyway have you seen my MAN tenna just look at HIM | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enigma-im · 4 years ago

Text

Twelfth day of Christmas...

Trope: Mutual pining Relationship: Robot x Human Word count: 6,589

The bell chimes from the door. Without missing a beat I continue welding the derby car in front of me. It doesn't take a genius to realize who is here at such a ridiculous hour. Tenna just has to wait till I'm finished fixing up Bruce's dumpster car. Sparks fly off the dented pieces of metal, splashing around in wonderous fireworks. If the sight wasn't a norm I'd almost consider its beauty. As I lower the flame to judge my work I see Tenna sitting on the couch across from me. I try not to look at him, knowing the second he has my attention I'm done for. I can kiss getting this done before tomorrow morning goodbye.

I try my damndest to ignore him, just finishing off the line before I can bother thinking about him. It's a hard task as I already feel anxious with him watching me. His stare picks at me till I'm honestly fighting the urge to look up. It's like he has some gravity to him that I'm drawn to.

"Damn it," I sigh. I turn off the torch and slam it on the hood of the Junker. I snap my helmet covered eye to him, seeing that infuriating smirk on his skull-like face. He has to know what that does to me. Tenna is an annoying little tick that has no business getting under my skin the way he does. His constant presence and never-ending teasing will be my undoing one day.

But damn if I don't love him for it.

Slamming my helmet up I glare at him," Have any idea what time it is?"

"10:34pm exactly," he spreads his arms wide on the couch headrest," is that a problem?"

Scoffing at his know-it-all look I toss the helmet on top of the car with the welding torch. I walk over to my workbench, picking up a used rag to wipe my face. Glancing over at Tenna I catch him staring, his legs spreading wide in an 'I'm powerful' pose. I roll my eyes as my heart flutters. How dare he.

"What do you need this time, Tenna," I ask, cutting to the chase.

"Haven't seen you in nearly a week and all you've got to say is 'you know what time it is' and 'what do you need this time'," he mocks my voice," can't I just come to see my favorite mechanic?"

I look deadpan to him," I've known you for nearly two years, not once have you just come to visit me. So I'll ask one more time, what do you need?"

He drops the act quickly, his shoulders sagging as he leans forward," Ricky Bower accidentally knocked me on my ass last week, and ever since I've been losing feeling to my hands." he raises his palms upwards, clenching his hand into fists. "It's strange and I'd greatly appreciate your help," he attempts to be kind as he asks. Knowing I can't ever say no to this idiot I motion him over to the bench.

Tenna hops up with a pep in his step. I watch him snatch the roller chair from beside the car, bringing it over before plopping down. Holding my hands out he sets his gently over them. I take the moment to feel his lightly warmed metal and leathery palms. His body has fascinated me for as long as I've known him. Having great knowledge in most things that deal with metal and wires I have never really understood how someone can make life like him. He is amazing.

Shaking out of my exploration I trace my fingers over his palm, looking up to him. "Feel that," I ask.

"Nope," he pops the P. I pinch at his fingers, digging my nail into the springy synthetic.

"That?"

"Why all the testing? I told you I can't feel a thing," he snaps. I grind my teeth at his tone, tempted to drop the task. I don't need him charging in here and demanding a fix. Scoffing I give into my petty ire and push his hands away.

"Alright, Mr. Know-it-all, fix your damn self," I hop out of my chair, ready to abscond to my office to pout like a lovesick teen. Before I can make it a step he snatches my wrist, tugging me back.

"Fine, fine," he sighs," I'm sorry. Will you please ignore my pitiful outbursts, I'm just a tad frustrated not being able to feel anything." his gaze drops to where he Is holding me, rubbing his thumb across my skin. He huffs.

I snatch my hand out of his," Fine, but one more and I'm kicking ya out."

"Wouldn't expect anything less," he smirks.

I grab his hand again, trailing my hands to his forearm where I open a panel. The underside of his arm pops off easily. Having replaced this very piece long before it no longer stays connected. I set it off to the side. I expertly look over his wires and parts. It all looks to be working fine, I dig my fingers in to investigate deeper.

"So what did Ricky do again," I ask, filling the silence as I work. I feel him shrug as his arm jostles in my hands.

"That dumb son of a bitch was wobbling on his way out the bar. Being the kind soul I am-" I roll my eyes,"-I walked him home. As he nearly caves his head in on the street I grab him, trading places with him as the dumb son of a bitch to cave his head in on the street." I snort at the image. The all graceful Tenna falling headfirst into the pavement like a drunkard. The scene replays in my mind as I snap my eyes up to him.

"So it's your head, not your arm," I bark as I grab the panel and click it back to place. Standing, I snatch his head and tug it towards me. He hovers close to my bosom but I'm far too distracted with tearing off the cranium plating to care.

"Very grabby today," he chuckles. I toss the panel to the bench and dig through the countless wires to reach where the small dent on the back of his head is. The protective layer that sits on the back of his head is pressing too hard on his processor. The wires are detached and loose. I scoff, pleased but annoyed at finding the issue. What an idiot for going a week without coming in.

I try to take a step away from him to grab my wire welding set but I'm held in place. Confused, I look to the hands holding my hips. Tenna looks up, quickly letting go and sliding back with the chair.

"Sorry," he coughs," you kept bumping me and I-uhh- yep." I stare for a moment, squinting at his strange behavior before I run off to my office.

I fix up his head, pleased as can be as I shut the panel back. Plopping down onto my chair I hold my palms out again. I gesture him forward. He drops his hand unceremoniously onto mine.

"Have you always been this warm," he asks, pressing his palm against mine.

"Does it feel different," I ask worried I screwed something up. I'm no genius in the ways of advanced robotics. He doesn't answer, trailing his hands over my wrist. Growing curious he abandons my hands and cups my cheeks. His fingers pet over my nose and under my eye. Smoothing down my eyebrows as I tense.

"What are you doing," I slowly recoil from his touch though it feels so welcoming. His thumbs grace the corners of my eyes as he smiles sweetly to himself.

"I can feel the crow's feet, ya fixed me again, doc," he jokes. I slap his hands away, insulted at the insinuation that I have crow's feet. He laughs, letting me walk away in a huff.

Tenna

I left her place later than I intended, leaving her asleep on the couch. Heading out of her scrap yard I make my way down the road towards my home. Passing many closing bars and dark alleys. I manage to get out of the dumpster fire that is downtown to get to my humble abode out of the city. It's not a far walk, a decent enough journey to a sweet little place in a sweet little neighborhood.

I trot up the steps, the door unlocking at my proximity. Stepping into the living room I find Ricky asleep on the couch similar to Valerie. Quietly I make my way to my room, flipping the light on to look at the large messy room. I step over the clutter of junk, passing by my vanity. Stopping for a moment I admire the dent on the back of my head, wincing at it.

"Didn't have to hit so hard," I grunt.

Quickly completing my nighttime rituals I plug myself in and power down for the night.

The next morning I sit in the kitchen, reading on my tablet as Ricky steps in. He's a half-dressed, sloppy man, sorting through the fridge.

"How did last night go," he asks. I sigh, dropping the tablet to the table.

"Pretty good actually. She fixed me up quickly, got to even hold her for that bit, and we talked afterward. You know Gilbert stiffed her the forty he owed her for fixing up his Camry," I answer. He grunts in answer, chugging milk like the slob he is. I grimace at the white trickle going down his neck. With a satisfied gasp, he wipes his face.

"Did you actually get anywhere this time or did you play annoying best friend again," he asks.

"No," I cross my arms," I didn't plan to do anything anyways."

Ricky snorts," wimp."

"Hey," I bark," I'm not a wimp. I'm just a good guy trying not to ruin a good thing going for me."

"yea," he shrugs," a wimp."

I pout, grumbling under my breath as I try to think of something clever to say. Ricky just snorts again, heading towards the cupboards for a snack.

"Just go for it, you beating around the bush just leaves time for her to find someone better. She puts up with your stupid injuries that you cause just as an excuse to see her. Nut up and make a move," he suggests. I can't help but chuckle at the pun. It trails off as I grovel in self-pity some more.

"It's not that easy, Rick," I sneer," she can barely stand me, and asking for more than what we have would be me just ruining something good. If all I can get is once a week with her then I'll take it. She doesn't need some idiot pulling her back anyway."

Ricky glares at me but shakes it off as the argument goes in circles. I adore Valerie, ever since she first fixed me up. She's so snarky and kind, I couldn't help but adore her. But, I'm nothing special and I know she finds me tolerable at best. I sigh, slacking in the chair.

Valerie

Bruce stops by sometime this week to grab his Junker car for the derby this weekend. With the bit of money he gives me I have enough to splurge on some necessities for the shop. I spend my day off cleaning up and ordering pieces online. Though I'm one for always working I enjoy getting to calm it all down every Tuesday. No customers to argue with, pieces of shit cars to try to fix up. Just alone with some loud music.

I sweep the garage floor, startled at the bot standing by the front door. Jumping nearly out of my skin I pause the music and catch my breath. Tenna laughs at me as I hold my hand to my chest.

"If I wasn't mistaken I think I scared ya," he teases.

"Yea," I shout," not shit." Tenna gives me a moment to ease my racing heart before continuing his teasing.

"You humans are just so jumpy. Scared of your own shadow," he snickers.

I scoff, setting the broom aside," cause you're any better? I remember vividly you whimpering over me replacing the pistons on your back."

"Hey," he barks, pointing to me," being in pain and getting scared are two different things and I wasn't whimpering. If I was, it was because you don't have a gentle bone in your body."

I wave him off," excuses, excuses. What do you want anyway?"

Shoving his hands in his pockets he walks further into the shop," was just passing by and figured you could be of help in fixing the dent on the back of my head. You see, the ladies don't find the battle wound charming."

I snort," battle wound? Falling onto concrete sounds extremely heroic."

"Saving poor old men from cracking their skull on the sidewalk sounds pretty damn heroic," he defends himself. I smile, waving him over to the workbench.

"I'd recommend stopping with the 'heroics' though. You're in here nearly every week with some 'battle scars'," I scold halfheartedly. He sits down at the bench as I circle him to check out the dented metal on his head. Grabbing him and tilting him forward I see what I can do.

"Not my fault I'm such a good person," he grumbles. I snort, shaking my head.

I try just removing the dent the old fashion way, pulling it back into place. With that not working I remove the piece and try to hammer it back. That just makes it look worse. As all else fails I set out to make a new piece. I sort through some scrap I have mashed together in a milk crate. Jabbing myself on different bits of loose metal I find a sheet perfect enough to mold.

All the while I'm working I can feel Tenna's gaze on me. It makes me fumble with my work as I feel pressured by his attention. I want to seem smart and capable around him but he has a tendency to leave me flustered. I bite my cheek and try to think of something else while I cut the sheet of metal.

With the piece made I head back over, ready to try and perfect it. I stand behind him, tilting his head back down.

"Anything new lately," I ask him to fill the silence. He shrugs.

"I've been trying this new drink for bots, it's supposed to keep the inners all clean and oiled," he answers.

"Yea, how's it taste," I ask, knowing how picky he can be.

"Like shit. It's like they make us taste everything but won't put the effort into making things we can eat good," he huffs," it's almost insulting." I hum in answer. I lose track of the conversation for a bit as I walk off to smooth the edges so it can click into place.

"So Christmas is next week," I shout from across the shop.

"Yea, and?"

"What do you me 'yea, and', are you not doing anything," I ask.

He shrugs," what is there to do? Ricky is heading off to his parents then and I'm left alone till he comes back."

I nod in understanding. Ricky is Tenna's only friend. Though I have no room to talk, Tenna is my only friend. I fiddle with the piece in my hand as I ponder asking him to spend his holiday here. Surely that's a stupid question, why would he want to spend his day with me?

"Besides, it's a family holiday. As you know I lack in that department," he tries to joke. I swallow a comforting comment.

Walking around him again I set the piece, admiring the handiwork. I turn to the workbench for some spray paint to keep the color scheme. Though I've replaced most of his parts with scarp I do try to keep it presentable. I shake the can as I fight back the urge to invite him. It's a waste invitation, he wouldn't want to. I sigh.

"Tenna," I start, he hums," do you want to spend Christmas here with me?"

He straightens at the question, asking defensively," Why?"

"What do you mean why," I bite back.

"What do you mean 'what do you mean'? Why are you inviting me to your human celebration," he barks. I scoff, spraying the back of his head quickly.

"You're going to be alone and I thought it would be a nice thing for me to do," I answer.

"Oh, how giving of you. Don't put yourself out just for me," he folds his arms. I toss the can onto the desk, circling to his front.

"What is your problem, I'm just being nice," I sneer.

He glares up at me," I don't want the charity. I imagine you have better people to spend this time with."

"Oh yea, cause I'm drowning in friends right now. Got a family halfway across the country and no money to get to them. I'm spending this time of year alone and you of all people should know that," I shake my head, holding up my hand before he can speak," know what, never mind. Didn't know having to spend Christmas with me would be such a hassle."

His shoulders drop as he begins to stand," I didn't mean it like that, Val-"

I stop him," No, it's my fault. Should have known better. It's my bad." I turn on my heels and make my way to my office, Tenna trailing after me.

"Valerie, I didn't mean it that way. I was-," I interrupt him again.

"Fucking aye, Tenna, I get it," I snap," I fixed your stupid head, you can leave now."

Tenna tries to get in another word before I slam the door in his face. I stomp to the desk, collapsing in my chair as Tenna tries to knock on the door. His words are muffled but constant. I ignore him either way, stewing in my hurt feelings like a petulant child. Damn robots.

Tenna

I reluctantly leave her place, feeling like utter shit as I do. I hardly meant for it to come out like that but I couldn't help but get defensive. She wanted to spend her special holiday with me? Surely that had to be pity. I never want her pity, that alone stings more than anything.

I walk home, feeling the cold air more than before. Heading into my home I go straight for my room to stew in my ignorance for a little longer. Falling onto my bed I groan as I recall the conversation. How can I be such a fool? Rolling onto my side I rub at the new plate sitting on the back of my head. She always fixes me right up. Not once has she said no. I smile to myself before the image of the door slamming in my face came back. I groan again.

A while later I come out of my room to speak with Ricky, finishing with my moping for the time being. I find the slobby man lounged on the couch watching tv. Falling into the chair across from him I let out an exaggerated sigh. Ricky pretends to not notice so I do it again. With a roll of his eyes, he mutes the tv, turning to me with a fake smile.

"Hello, how may I help you," he says with great theatrics. I rest my cheek on my palm.

"Valerie's mad at me," I answer. Ricky tosses the remote down the couch, clenching his jaw.

"Yea? What did you do," he asks. I don't bother pretending I did no wrong.

"She asked to if I wanted to spend Christmas with her and I got all in my emotions about it," I grumble. Ricky scoffs, looking at me bemused.

"Your girl asks you to spend a holiday with her and you got pissy," he sits up, throwing his feet onto the floor," are you dense? Your girl asks you to spend time with her outside this stupid arrangement you two have and you don't immediately say yes and jump for joy?"

Well, when you say it like that I feel like more of an asshole. I lean forward and groan into my hands. I'm truly a fool.

"I couldn't help it. It felt like she was doing it because she felt bad and I couldn't handle her feeling like she had to do that," I clarify. Ricky barks out a humorless laugh, reaching over for a pillow and tossing it at me.

"You fucking idiot," he barks," what does it matter if she felt bad for you? If a girl wants you to spend time with her then the answer should always be yes!"

"I'm aware of that now," I shove the pillow aside," you know I suffer from lack of filter from brain to mouth."

He snickers," as do all men."

"so what should I do?"

Ricky stands from the couch," go back and apologies then kiss her like the lovesick fool you are."

"Be serious, please," I fall back against the chair. Ricky walks past, heading to the kitchen.

"I am. You keep beating around the bush and you need to be direct. Tell her how you feel- or better yet, show her how you feel- and then you two can get down to fucking like rabbits in her garage," he answers, shouting as he rounds into the kitchen. I stumble on my retort as I think about having my way with her in her shop. Her sweaty body against mine as I listen to her sweet cries of pleasure. I nearly short circuit at the thought, drooling if I could.

Ricky comes back in, hitting me on the head," Stop that, I don't wanna see if a robot can get a boner."

I shoo his hand away," shut up. That's a stupid plan."

He falls to the couch with his bowl of mixed snacks," compare to your year-long plan of injuring yourself I'd say it's fucking genius." I chuff, looking towards to tv in thought. They aren't stupid plans, they've worked every time. Even when she's been mad at me I've managed to get back in there to apologize with a well-placed missing wire. I snap my head to Ricky.

"There's an idea," I smirk," she has never said no so far." Ricky looks from the tv back to me, gawking before sneering.

"No," he points at me," don't chase that thought. For the love of God, just talk to her. You are making this harder than it has to be."

I rest my elbow on my knees," no, no. it will work. Just need your help trying to break something easily fixable and-"

"NO," he jumps up, slamming his bowl on the table," I'm not going to keep helping you hurt yourself just so you can go see her. I'm fucking done with this childish game. You need to get your shit together and talk to her like a damn adult."

I stare at him for a moment, caving quickly," but Ricky, just be a bro one more time. I promise I'll try to make some headway but for right now I just need to get her to talk with me and sh-"

"Tenna," he shouts," I can't keep doing this! I'm fucking done." he storms out the room. I shout after him, trying to plead before he slams his door. Huffing I fall back into the chair, looking to the space in thought. Well, that didn't work.

Valerie

I stew for the week, growing angrier as Christmas nears. The one time I try to reach out to him as more than his mechanic he shuts me down. How could I even hope for a second that he would see me more than that? Under the feeling of rage I have the weak sensation of disappointment and pain.

Wanting an actual friendship wasn't asking for much, right? It's not like I confessed my feeling, laying myself bare for him to judge and reject. It was a simple invitation for us both not to spend this time of year alone. I scoff, slamming my tools round harder than needed.

"Don't fucking need him anyway," I grumble," far too busy to spend Christmas with him." it's a lie but it does make me feel better. I can use the free time sorting through that horrendous filing cabinet. Yea, that's a good way to spend my day off.

I power through the week working on odd jobs, secretly holding out for Tenna to walk through the door. He never does though, staying away the whole week while I continue to stew. I don't miss him, no, far from it. It's just quiet around here, that's all. I sigh at the lie.

Christmas eve leaves me cold and alone. I try to work, keeping with the minor distractions till I'm just left numb. Some self-pampering is needed. I make myself a hot chocolate, sitting on my couch, and playing Christmas music throughout the shop. I mumble along to the overly repeated songs as I sip my drink, chewing on some marshmallows.

"Merry Christmas to me," I groan.

Nearly asleep I jolt awake at a pounding at my door. The cold leftover bit of cocoa spills on my blanket as my muddled brain tries to sort out what's happening. The pounding sounds again from the front entrance, followed by some shouting. Scared, I grab a tall wrench off the workbench as I head to the door. The second the entrance is inches open does the person on the other side barge in.

A sloppy-looking man charges in, carrying a tarp behind him. I scowl at the guy, barely noticing the heap of metal strewn across the blue tarp.

"Excuse me, what are you doing," I snap. The man lets go of the tarp with a heavy grunt.

"Help him," he glares down at the heap on the tarp. I finally take a moment to look, gasping at the sight.

"Tenna," I drop to my knees, grabbing at him. He is laid wrecked on the ground, not moving. The lights in his eyes are dim but still there. It's a minimal relief but the black scorch marks up his arms aren't.

"What happened, who are you, why is he-," I try to ask.

"He fucking shocked himself with a socket, and I'm Ricky. Now fix him so I can kick his ass when he's alright," the man growls. I nearly recoil at his volume but I can't look away from Tenna. Focusing, I grab at his arms, tearing off the panel to see the damage done. There are plenty of popped fuses, the wires leaving black marks where they meet. I reach in to find the most damage, throwing my hand back as the metal burns my fingers. I press my hand to his chest, wincing at the heat.

"He's overheating," I say as I jump up. I run over to my office, grabbing plyers and a screwdriver.

"Yea, what does that mean," Ricky asks, panicked. I shoo him aside, falling to my knees besides Tenna. Reaching for his torso again I slide his shirt up to his chest and begin to pry the plate off. Using the screwdriver I manage it easily. Looking at his bare inners I use the plyer to dig in the tiny hole near his artificial heart. I press the button deep down in there, turning him off. The light dims from his eyes as his body shuts down. The barely-there glow of his pupils is a faint relief.

"What are you doing," Ricky shouts," why did you turn him off, is he dead?"

I scoff," he isn't dead, or he better not be. I shut off most of his main functions so he can cool off while I fix the wires that he popped. He is technically still on but it's minor functions, mostly."

"Mostly," Ricky barks," can you fix him?"

"Of course I can fix him," I answer with false confidence. I think I can fix him. I'm sure as hell going to try because if this idiot dies on me I'm going to turn his body into a coffee machine. No, he won't get out of this that easy.

"yea, ok," Ricky answers, shaking a bit. Before I can start on Tenna I turn to Ricky.

"It's going to be ok, I got this. Why don't you grab my tools off the bench while you tell me what happened," I ask calmly. He nods, stumbling over to the bench while I pry off the plating on both arms. Ricky passes me the set, sitting down at Tenna's feet. I wait for him to start.

"I found him in his room after I heard a loud pop. I didn't think it came from him but when I saw him laid out jerking around on the floor I couldn't think. Gods," he rubs his face," I could kill him for putting me through that."

I rip the worn wires out, stripping them and re-welding them to his body," what did he do?"

Ricky scoffs, turning away," fucking shocking himself with the outlet. I swear, he is like a child sometimes." I scrunch my face up confused.

"Why would he do that," I ask.

"Because of you," he answers easily. I snap my attention to him, defensive and confused.

"Because of me?"

Ricky looks at me, fighting with himself before he reluctantly answers," this idiot has been making up every excuse to see you."

"So he shocked himself to see me," I ask, not really getting it.

"Shocked, maimed, dented, sabotaged. You name it, he had done it just so he had a reason to see you," he shrugs. I finish with one arm, leaving the plates off to let it cool. I start on the other side.

"Why would he do that," I wince as I burn my finger again. I feel Ricky's heavy gaze on me. Turning to him he sighs.

"Because he is in love with you and only idiots in love do stupid shit like this," he gestures to Tenna. I bark out a laugh, startling Ricky.

"No, that's not it. Why did he really do this," I shake my head amused. This hunk of junk couldn't be in love with me. That's funny in itself to assume such.

"He's in love with you. Has been since he met you," he answers. I scoff.

"I doubt that very much. He has been nothing but an ass, only coming to visit when he needs something. I consider him a good friend but I know he only sees me as his mechanic," I try to smile through the bitterness. Ricky laughs, throwing his head back as he busts a gut.

"Are you kidding me," he snickers," you two are exactly the same! Two idiots who just don't get the other."

I sneer, finishing up the wires before grabbing my soldering kit. Surely Ricky is mistaken, Tenna isn't in love with me.

"So, Valerie, are you in love with him," he asks with a big grin on his face. I fluster at the question, making him laugh again. "I fucking knew it. To think, I never met you and could tell you were as enamored with him as he is with you. If only he took my advice then you two would be spending your Christmas humping like lovesick teens," he chortles. I fluster more, wanting to roll up into a ball.

I solder the last wire, grumbling under my breath at everything. How can he go and do something like this? And just to get my attention? If what Ricky said is true then Tenna is more of an idiot than I thought. He never gave any hint that he liked me, let alone loved me. I spent the whole year feeling like shit because I adored this idiot, thinking he couldn't even give me a second glance. When he wakes up he is going to have an earful.

As I put away my tools I grab the plyers again. Stretching over his chest I press the thin tip into the hole, pressing the button. I wait for the telltale sign of his rebooting but there is nothing. I press it again, holding it before releasing. Nothing. Before I can push it again there is a loud drawn out beep.

"What's happening," Ricky jumps to attention. I don't answer, having the same question myself. Leaning over his body I stare into his eyes, the dim light extinguishing completely. My heart plummets, a cold chill running up my spine.

I jump up, bolting across the shop for my trolley. Ricky stands, asking too many flustered questions as he watches me wheel the trolley over. I grab the jump-started off the middle shelf, slamming it a tad too hard on the floor. Reaching for the two clamps I attached them to Tenna's chest. I look at the machine, ready to turn the knob. Before I can start, I check Ricky, making sure he isn't in danger of being shocked as well.

I turn the knob, a charge running through Tenna. I hold it for a few seconds. Leaning over Tenna I look for his lights, seeing none I try again. I mumble under my breath pleas and prayers. Checking again for a light I truly panic.

"No, no, no," I readjust the clamps on his body," you do not get to do this to me, you damn idiot!" I twist the knob again, asking any higher power for this hunk of junk to start.

"What's going on, is it working," Ricky asks unhelpfully. I ignore him, sitting in my own fear. I twist the knob, antsy as I wait.

It's a harsh few seconds of nothing. My heart feels like it's squeezing, threatening to pop with such force. A litter of please escape my lips as my eyes sting. He can't do this to me, he fucking can't.

"You son of a bitch," I whimper in anger," I do not deserve to find out you love me too and then have you die on me. You damn piece of shit, reboot!"

I twist the knob again, perhaps turning it a tad too hard. His body gives a sudden jolt, convulsing for a moment before he sits upright.

"Motherfucker," he shouts, clenching at his open chest. He tears off the clamps, curling into himself as he shudders. I can't describe the utter joy I feel at hearing him speak. Without much thought I grab him, pulling him into a hug. He tilts into my hold, still shaking and clenching his chest.

I grab his face, turning to me," If you ever scare me like that again I will turn you into a metal scrap cube." before he can answer I smash my lips again his less soft ones. He grunts in surprise, nearly recoiling. I hold him firm, annoyed and overjoyed all at once. Tenna melts into the actions, the hands curled against his chest grabbing at my shirt to tug me closer.

"Aw, that’s sweet," Ricky tease, smacking Tenna on the back of the head," glad you're alright but if you do that shit again I'm turning your scrap cube into a toilet." Tenna parts from me, smiling up at his friend.

"Wouldn't expect anything less," Tenna chuckles.

Ricky nods, rubbing snot on his sleeve," see you at home."

"You're leaving," I ask, watching him head to the door.

"Yea, you two have a lot to talk about. I'll get my words in later when he isn't high off you," he waves dismissively. As Ricky shuts the door behind himself Tenna and I are left in tense silence.

I look to Tenna, happy to see the bright glow in his eyes. He was nearly lost to me, left to be just a piece of fine metal on my floor. I smile at him, he returns the gesture. I then punch him in the chest, wincing at the metal. He winces, curling into himself again.

"Ow, let's not punch the injured man," he snaps. I growl at him.

"Wouldn't be injured if you weren't such an idiot," I snap," Of all the moronic things I know you're capable of, this tops the list. What were you even thinking? You could have been wiped, gone forever at Tenna the robot. Left at factory reset as a blank slate. God, I could kill you right now for being so blasé about hurting yourself!"

"I did what I had to do, ok," he bites back," it's not my fault that it's the only way you would give me the time of day."

I scoff, pushing him away," only time? Excuse me but I don't think you even bother trying a different way. Not once did you stop by for a casual chat or asked me out for some dinner. Hell, I've never even been to your place. I'm not the one in the wrong here just because you're an idiot!"

Tenna groans, starting up a sentence before backing off with a shake of his head. He tries again, falling short once more. In the end, he grabs for me, tugging my reluctant self into a hug. He drops his forehead to my shoulder, holding me sweetly.

"I'm sorry," he says simply," I've been reckless and unrefined ever since I met you. It's not your fault, I'm just a fool who has no idea what he's doing."

I tug him closer, petting at his back," yea, but you are the fool I fell in love with."

He squeezes tighter, rubbing his face against me. Tugging me into his lap we take the silent moment to bask in the glow of just being alive. I'm livid with him, beyond belief am I angry, but I nearly lost him today. That alone is enough for me to just sit in his lap and hold him.

"Do you really love me," he mumbles near my ear. I pet the back of his head, pressing a kiss to him.

"Sadly," I tease. He chuckles, leaning back to look in my eyes. He slants his lips against mine, timid and slow as he does.

"Well, I'm happily in love with you too," he says against my mouth. I tug him in for the next kiss, leisurely licking his lips and cupping the back of his head. We part only for us to rest against the other.

"I'm really sorry though," he nuzzles my head," I feel like a great idiot now."

"Truly the king of idiots, actually," I joke. He smiles, nodding in agreement.

"Can you forgive me," he asks. I nod.

"My biggest flaw is I can never say no to you," I say," it will surely be my undoing."

Tenna smiles big and wide, hands falling down to my hips to tug me close. We kiss like lovesick fools we are, straying off any more words for the enjoyment of just being here. Somehow we make it to the couch where he corners me against himself and the cushion. I fall asleep to him playing with my hair. Before I can succumb to rest I mumble to him.

"Merry Christmas."

He presses a gentle kiss to my head," Merry Christmas, love."

#12 days of christmas #12 tropes for christmas #Enigma-IM #exophilia #robot boyfriend #robot x human #monster boyfriend #mutual pining

135 notes · View notes

whiskeyworen · 5 years ago

Text

Halloween Festivities

There's one great thing about Tyria. Cyrus reflected as he sipped his whiskey. He smiled to himself, trying to surpress the chuckle that he knew would draw an odd look from the big bartender nearby. Halloween isn't just one day here. It's a damned -- literally! -- month!

Sure, there were significant downsides to a month long Halloween; haunted magical doors opening into the Mists randomly were one of the BIG ones. And having the Mad King appearing in several locations at once around Kryta was another. Last year Cyrus had dodged his way out of a Mad King Says 'game' -- a game that he witnessed more than one person being slammed to the ground by flaming pumpkin heads with enough force to leave them winded -- and into the Labyrinth.

That was a mistake; Not only did he witness Tenna running around and having her 'fun' with the lunatic hordes ( H.P. Lovecraft certainly got some elements right with 'The Festival', at least in that regard), as gory as that was. At the same moment the Mad King was playing his game in the real world, he was ALSO standing there, towering over the Labyrinth, facing off against his revolting, Joker-esque son.

This year, Cyrus resolved to stay away from the festivities as much as possible, but there were some absolutely wonderful parties going on. Costume parties. His 'friend' in the Whispers, that pale sylvari with the terrifying magenta eyes, had invited him and a Plus One to a private get together.

It helped that his companion for the night, his 'date', if the word was to be used, was also a Whispers agent. Certain hands were shook, as it were. It was all good.

Which is how he ended up waiting in the bar. A few weeks ago he'd discussed his costume design with Verula and the ship's AI, Aspect, and they'd come through with, presenting him with the outfit a couple of days ago. He straightened up a bit, running his hand over the sleek, black jacket with its golden gilt filigree, amazed at how well it fit. Remind me to compliment both of them again! This fits wonderfully.

"My, that's quite the outfit Cyrus." Came a familiar voice from behind him. Mixed into the amusement was a note of actual approval. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were going to some fancy ball."

He turned, smirking, to greet his 'date'. "Well, I thought about wearing that Mist suit Tenna designed, but it's bulky. Not exactly relaxation friendly." With a gesture, he indicated the lines of the suit. "This...on the other hand, is perfectly acceptable. Plus, it makes me look damned good."

Moryggan raised an eyebrow, a small smile quirking her lips. "Well, not to boost your ego, but it does look very nice. Very regal, maybe even noble." She rolled her eyes a bit, sighing. "If only that were the truth about you."

"Hey..." He frowned petulantly, crossing his arms. She giggled, shaking her head.

"I'm only toying with you." She admitted. "It's a very handsome outfit."

"Thank you." The frown disappeared, and for the first time Cyrus saw what Moryggan had on. "Oh... wow. That's, um..."

"Do you like it?" Moryggan did a slow spin, the shredded tassels, inscribed in tainted runes swirling around her. Her natural minty green sylvari glow lit up every bit of exposed skin she had, almost like glowing tattoos all over her body. It actually worked very well. But...

"That's...uh... that's a lot of exposed skin." Cyrus tried not to stare, averting his eyes a bit. He coughed into his hand, trying to cover the blush that suddenly rose in his cheeks. "Are you really going to be comfortable in that tonight?"

"It's a costume party. There's probably going to be someone dressed as Lord Faren for crying out loud." Moryggan grinned...and then they both winced and shuddered at the thought of anyone pulling a Faren. "Ugh. Okay, wrong example."

"Yeah. Let's..not mention that ever again." Cyrus agreed, desperately wishing for a bit of brain bleach. Other than adoring noble girls, absolutely no one in the known world wanted to see any MORE of Faren, who had not yet abandoned his bathing suit -- which Cyrus had reluctantly referred to as a 'banana hammock', much to his distaste -- since he returned to health from the assault on Joko's fortress at Kourna.

"So, are you ready to go to the party?" Moryggan asked. Cyrus nodded, and they headed out the passage to the street. "I hope we can take in some of the sights before we reach it, though." "Well, if you want, we can." He replied reluctantly. "Can we skip seeing Droobert though? I just find that depressing." "Agreed." As they reached the street, she linked their elbows, clasping his arm. "... So what is your costume, anyway? A noble?" Cyrus shook his head. "It's as close as I could get made to an outfit my favorite novel character wore." He chuckled. "Hero of the Imperium: Ciaphas Cain." Moryggan tipped her head, considering the golden filigree. This close, she noticed that the buttons had a little skulls engraved on them, and on the breast there was a double-headed eagle icon; blind on one head, the other head had a small diamond for its eye. Looking down, she could see the skulls-and-eagle theme was repeated throughout the outfit. "Hm... name doesn't ring a bell. What did he do?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "He tried for a peaceful, uneventful life in the military, and fell upward, going from one horrible, world-shattering mission after another, succeeding amazingly every time, much to his own surprise. Declared a Hero of the Imperium, all the while he was fully convinced he didn't deserve any of the glory."

"That...sounds strange." She looked at him, the smile on his face. "How is he a hero then?"

"He's not, really." Cyrus just smiled. "The way the world saw him was this tall, proud, masculine, brave, powerful man that never swayed and was the shining example of an upstanding soldier. The truth... in his own memoirs and some of his closest friends' admissions... was that he was an absolutely normal man. The same vices, the same pains, and more than the same amount of fears. He just hid it well, was very lucky, and had some very good friends."

He looked at her, smirking, one eyebrow raised smugly. "He was also quite the ladies' man. And never seemed to have any issues, given he kept moving around."

"Ohh, so he's a heartbreaker." She poked his side as they passed by some kids dunking for apples in a cauldron. "He surrounded himself with women and got away with it, did he?"

"I seem to remember him saying something about being a master of 'letting them down gently'." Cyrus laughed, jumping a bit at her poke. "I don't like THAT aspect of him, but... as a guy, I'm mildly envious of his luck with the ladies."

As they crossed the Piazza, chatting with fellow costumed individuals, Moryggan kept getting the lion's share of the compliments. More than one guy, and even a few ladies gave a low whistle at her hip-high leather boots, even if they DID end in hooves. More than one set of roving eyes ran over her gently glowing form as she walked with Cyrus. And more than one had envy in their eyes.

"I think they like your costume." Cyrus mumbled into her ear as they wandered the passage to the bridge near the Eastern Ward. The party was being held in the Guild register building, in its vast atrium.

"I should hope so. It took an hour of careful conjuring to form this illusion." She whispered back.

That gave him pause. It physically stopped him just before they headed over the bridge, and Moryggan kept walking, as if she hadn't noticed. "Wait...what do you mean 'illusion'? That entire outfit is a mesmer glamour?"

She stopped, turning to look over her shoulder at him, a smile as smug as his own from before on her face. "Of course! There's no way some parts of this would have stayed together on its own. Or in the right places. Add to that I was having a hard time thinking of something to make when I ran out of time. So I used the last hour to make the glamour illusion of this outfit." She turned to face him, hands lightly on her hips. "So I'm rather glad people are enjoying this one."

There was something that was nagging at Cyrus's mind, as he looked at her outfit. But what was it?...There's so much skin. Is that all illusion too?... And then a light went off in his head. "Moryggan..."

"Yes?" She replied innocently. She'd seen that realization hit him; as much as he liked to think he dissembled his emotions, Moryggan had instantly seen that certain things broke his mask in a delightful way.

"....if that's an illusion, then exactly what ARE you wearing?" He asked slowly.

Her smile broadened, and she turned away, letting him see the minty glow pulsing from the base of her spine outward. She couldn't hide it, but the speed of the pulse was slightly faster than normal, and a bit brighter. "....well, if I have too much to drink, perhaps you'll find out?"

She giggled, and looked back at him, seeing his mouth drop open. "Though, I would suggest that we get back to the inn before I lose control of the glamour. It's easy to maintain, but..."

Moryggan tipped her head, making an amused sound, before walking off, a bit of a bounce in her step. Cyrus stood there, his mind locked onto the image of Moryggan losing the illusion and...

"Whoa, wait up Mory!" He called, running to catch up with her. "Slow down!"

Her pleasant laughter was the only response.

---- Author’s note: This is totally non-canon... well, okay, maybe half way. I’m actually starting to ship these two. Which me distinctly envious of my in-game character. LoL. This fic was just thrown together, so take it with a grain of salt. Also, I just kind of wanted to show off Moryggan with her glow fully on, and just how pretty it looked. That, and Cyrus really does look great in that Courtier outfit. All that’s missing is a peaked cap and a laspistol. I’m still working on the chainsword, since they exist in game in about four different designs. (IRON BEAST BLADE!!)

#gw2 fanfiction #My characters #Moryggan Deraleth #Cyrus Sigismund #Halloween fun #Halloween #Costumes #Raiment of the Lich #Noble Courtier outfit #Sylvari Mesmer #Human Ranger

6 notes · View notes

desdemonafictional · 6 years ago

Text

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (pt 2)

A continuation of my fic of Choko’s “October People” fic

pt 3

Time doesn’t pass in the October world the way it passes elsewhere. Edgar is analytical by nature, but even for him it is difficult to keep track of the hours. Maybe it’s more difficult, because he is so analytical. Before he came here, he lived his life by a series of planners and alarms.

On an early night, when Edgar was still fresh and woefully confused by it all—the murky passage of time and the ghostly shapes that haunted the stalls, the way he could stare at his reflection for so long that he ceased almost to recognize it entirely—Johnny Sea came to visit him.

Edgar caught the soft sound of a breath sighing out and turned to find him at the edge of the vanity, craning his neck up to observe the ceiling. The antique silver chains that hung from the poles of the ceiling swayed in some unseen wind, or some deep insidious tide. Each of their glass-tipped ends glowed in the candle light.

“It suits you,” Nny said, reverently touching a single glowing shard. “It’s exquisite. Like you are.”

A pang of something almost painfully sweet knocked the breath out of Edgar, hard and intense. For a moment he was certain that anything he might have sold to be here was worth it, just to bear that feeling one more time. But then the feeling faded, and Edgar was cold again in the candlelight.

“That’s kind of you to say,” he replied, but distantly.

“Jimmy tells me you’re settling in,” Nny said. “Well actually, what he tells me is a lot of shit that I didn’t ask to hear, the devil knows why I didn’t install a mute function on that degenerate when I signed him on, but you were in there somewhere. Did you like the tour?”

Jimmy? Edgar thought, and then shook the thought away.

“What did you mean,” Edgar said, “when you said Tess and I made different deals?”

Nny crossed his arms in front of himself. “Oh, you know Tess. She tried to get clever with me there in the middle. We had a lot of fun that day! Me trying to lure her to her untimely death, her trying desperately to maintain her life and sanity, taffy, kettle corn….”

Edgar thought for a moment of the lonely sounds of chains in that dark hollow beneath the starless sky, of Tess’s ragged tearful breathing. It occured to him that what he regrets now isn’t so much his decision to take Nny’s hand as his inability to do anything for the only other human being in this monstrous underworld.

(Edgar has gone back to see her a number of times since that first night, and it has never once ended well.)

Nny flicked his wrist, shattering the memory. “Clever Tess! She caught on just in time. Fast talker, that one. You know she wanted to save me too. Well, at first…” He pursed his thin lips. “I don’t suppose she’s forgiven me yet. But you know how it goes with scorpions and frogs. We can’t help our nature.”

“And me?” Edgar asked.

Nny paused. He uncrossed his arms, thoughtfully, and came towards the cot, the striped silk of his coat lining flickering in the dim light. “You could have been free,” he said, “and you knew it. That means something. For your freedom, Edgar-Edgar-Vargas, with your hot little twitching heart, you could buy any prize.”

And then, as Edgar held his breath in something almost fear, almost longing, Nny settled onto his knees at Edgar’s feet. His lighthouse eyes looked up at Edgar, expressionless and alien, as he lifted his fleshless fingers up to Edgar’s cheek. The tips of his ivory digits hovered just above the skin.

“You wanted a home,” he said. “I’ve given you mine.”

The crowds come at night, smelling of smog and fast food grease, whole and human and carefree. Edgar watches them sometimes, how they move in herds through the carnival as the hungry machine picks off the weak and the careless and siphons them away into its dark stomach—rough and reckless boys eager to impress their uneasy dates, third wheels, precocious children.

This is their busiest season. Well that’s no surprise—the season of death, blood on the stones, the dying daylight. In this world it’s always October, so how he’ll know when the calendar truly changes is anybody’s guess.

It was on an evening as he was avoiding Tenna, who was friendly in the absolute most disconcerting way and kept asking him if he’d be willing to part with a finger or two, for purposes no doubt nefarious and perhaps cannibalistic, that Edgar finally found himself drawn into the mechanics of the monster.

There was a hollow thump on the crate below him, at which point Edgar looked down to find Sharktooth in full death-paint, sneering up at him.

“What are you,” he said, “the new lightning rod? Hell’s bells, we’re sure getting our money’s worth out of you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Edgar sighed. He wasn’t being entirely sarcastic. For all that the showman never seemed pleased to see him, he was at the very least a familiar face in this unpredictable world.

“If you’re not doing anything up there,” Sharktooth said, “maybe you wanna come down here and make yourself useful.”

A frission of interest caught Edgar by surprise. He considered the twilight for a moment, the damp wood beneath his hands, and then leapt down to the earth. He found the idea of spending any time with this strange creature as intriguing as the midnight call of a lamp-lit street, a mystery and an omen all in one.

The moment Edgar touched the ground, Sharktooth turned away from him, flipping up the wool edges of his collar. “I got a new toy for the show,” he said, “I need a warm body to test it out on.”

An odd anticipation prickled through Edgar’s guts. “What kind of toy are we talking about?” he said.

“Easier to just show you,” Sharktooth said, crooking a finger over his shoulder.

They picked their way through a maze of construction, under hollow-eyed strongmen lifting fresh signs for new exhibits, around the swollen footage of the freakshow. Edgar followed close on the showman’s heels, thinking a thousand curious thoughts. When he pulled back the tent flap to allow Edgar entrance, the single brief moment of passing underneath his shoulder filled Edgar with another wash of that strange anticipation.

It was dim here, the only light radiating up from below, from the set that sprawled sullenly across the ground. Edgar froze at the entrance, terrified by the shadow in the glowing murk. At the center of the ring was a clear tank more than twice the height of a man, in which something moved like living thunder. He jolted when sharp tipped fingers closed down on either of his shoulders, sucking in a shock of air, hairs prickling down the back of his neck.

“How about that?” Sharktooth said, a smirk twisting the edges of his voice. “You like swimming in the shark tank, don’t you, Vargas? You wanna take a dip?”

“I’m not dressed for swimming,” Edgar said, mentally swearing at himself even as he said it.

The creature behind him let out a snarl of laughter, squeezing and then discarding him. “Then you’re not gonna like the box,” he said, making his way lazily across the stage.

With a snap of his fingers, limelight splintered the darkness. On a platform below the tank, there was a box full almost to the top with luminous water, strung with chains. Inside its depth, open manacles drifted heavily. Sharktooth stopped in front of it and rapped it with his knuckles, baring his teeth.

“Daring escapes!” he said, “Miraculous revivals! A damsel in the jaws of death!”

Above him, strung in lights like a theater marquee, the words JAWS OF DEATH flashed and faded.

“Here,” he said, shaking out his wrists, “it goes like this.”

And then he threw out his arm towards the audience, to a ghostly swell of applause. “You, yes, any one of you!” he called out, passing his hand over the empty seats. “Any one of you may suddenly find yourself helpless in the jaws of death! To survive, ladies and gentlemen, you must surrender to the peril! Let your body succumb to the unknown, let it taste you—let it know you!”

His passage over the dark arena broke over Edgar, his gaze pausing as it lit there. For the first time, there was no irritation or impatience in his blacked out eyes, nothing save pure and sultry invitation. His open hand, thrown out before him, curled into a gesture of summoning. Edgar felt his throat going hot.

“You there,” he purred, “won’t you come up to the stage? The abyss is hungry to know you—it’s calling your name, pretty thing.”

Hot and dizzy with the pressure of that unbroken gaze, Edgar felt himself take an automatic step forward. His toe scuffed the sawdust. But before he could more than begin to move, Sharktooth flicked his fingers and cut the magic.

“Of course it would be a girl for the real thing,” he said, shooting the rows of the audience a dismissive sneer. “That’s all these troglodytes wanna see, a wet pair of tits. Give the people what they want, more flies with honey, yadda yadda.”

As he turned his attention back to Edgar, Sharktooth narrowed his eyes. “Hold on, Vargas,” he said, “—were you about to come up here?” At Edgar’s mortified silence, he clutched his hair, caught somewhere between fury and laughter. “Fuck me, you are the easiest goddamn mark I’ve ever seen.”

Edgar flushed. He bent down and, to avoid making further eye contact, brushed imaginary wrinkles out of his lightweight pants. After a moment, the wheeze of furious laughter died away.

“Anyway, the box is new,” Sharktooth carried on, righting himself. “I’m not sure what the effect in action is gonna be. You’ll be alright for a practice dummy.”

“I feel like you’re being unnecessarily insulting,” Edgar said, “for someone who apparently needs my help.”

“I don’t need your help,” Sharktooth corrected him. “You just happen to be the only person not doing anything useful right now.”

“So ask Tenna,” Edgar said. “I know for a fact she’s slacking off. She’s been after my fingers for hours.”

“Uhhhhggh, no,” Sharktooth said, addressing his complaint to the ceiling. “Fine, I’ll be like. The minimum of nice to you if you’ll just help me with this death trap.”

“Alright,” Edgar said, and made his way up the steps.

“What,” Sharktooth said, “just like that?”

Edgar shrugged off his jacket and set it down in a neat roll beside the box. “Honestly, I want to see the rest of the act. Anyway, I’m already bought and sold, there’s not much you can do to me now.”

Sharktooth cocked his hip, a grin slowly twisting the corner of his mouth. “Nah… I can’t take your soul,” he said, “you’re right about that. But what’s gonna stop me from taking your life?”

And then he snapped his fingers.

The world went cloudy and green tinted, in the very moment that Edgar’s heart screamed into panic in his chest. The cool weight of water closed and held him—glass bumped his fingertips—the loose fabric his white clothing went translucent as it dragged against him, drifted in the crushing space. Through the glass he could make out nothing except the shape of a man, one finger tapping a place just above Edgar’s head.

Air. The first thing he needed was air. He had seen a thin empty space at the top of the box—this thing was not actually designed to kill him, just shake him up a bit. As he kicked up, his toes bumped glass. He reached through the water and wrapped a length of chain around his wrist, lifting himself up to the surface, where he coughed and glared blearily down at the laughing figure below him.

“You could at least have let me take off my glasses first,” he said.

The hand clapped to muffle Sharktooth’s laughter was smudged with white greasepaint. “Gotta keep on your toes,” he managed.

Edgar blew out a wet puff of air as Sharktooth pulled himself together and stepped back, giving the tank a thorough look over. He held his hands up in the shape of a picture frame.

“Okay,” he said, after a moment, “that’s not bad. It’ll look better with the cuffs.”

Edgar eyed the open ends of the manacles. “Fool me once, shame on me,” he said. “Fool me twice, I don’t think so.”

Sharktooth scoffed. “Look,” he said, “there’s a whole routine here, I’m not actually gonna kill you. Johnny’d turn my gills inside out for one thing.”

Edgar considered him for a moment, measuring the likelihood of that thought. Although he was wary of this place—of the interest of cats in mice—something in his gut told him that there was too much left undone for this to be the end of the line. The nature of this fairy tale was beginning to come clear in the back of his head. “Yeah?”

Sharktooth grinned up at him. “Yeah.”

“Alright.”

The grin faltered. “Seriously? Seriously? You’re not even gonna make me fight for it?”

Edgar untangled himself from the length of chain, ready to let go as directed. “You know how it is with scorpions and frogs,” he said, with a wry smile. “I guess we just don’t get tired of being stung.”

For a moment, through the wetness of his glasses and the glare of the stage lights, Edgar could not make out the exact nature of the expression on the face below him. And then there was a blur of motion, the movement of a hand, and matter shifted in the depths below him. A heavy tightness pulled his ankles, dragging him down below the surface once and for all.

It was a slow process of sinking, the buoyancy of his lungs fighting against the weight dragging him down. His wrists, secured behind his back, left him little to struggle with. Although his body rippled with the panic of a drowning thing, his mind was oddly calm. He could see the shape of his captor through the glass, motionless, and understood that he was being watched with rapt fascination.

Surrender, the memory of that showman’s pitch played again in his mind, succumb—

In the depth that drew him down, his clothing translucent against his thighs, Edgar allowed himself to settle at the bottom of the tank, his knees parting until they met glass on either side. The pressure in his lungs burned hot. Under the green swirl he was dreamily aware of the weight on his body, lovely and dire. He lifted his chin and breathed out a stream of bubbles, thinking—well, in for a penny…

There was no use in fighting his nature. It was becoming clear that he would eat the apple again and again, given half the chance to damn himself.

The sound of the snap rang through the tank like the crack of lightning. All at once the clarity of thin air opened up around Edgar—light burst over him—and he stumbled over the ground, falling against Sharktooth’s chest. Wool scratched the peaks of his bare nipples, hard from the chill.

Sharktooth startled, his hands coming up and closing automatically against Edgar’s shoulders. His skin was strangely cold, despite the fact that Edgar was dripping wet and just about anything ought to be warm by comparison. Goosebumps prickled under the sharp grip.

“Holy hell,” Sharktooth muttered, “forget the wet tits, that’s a show.”

In between heaving gasps, Edgar managed to reply, “—Thanks.”

Sharktooth stiffened. He pried Edgar off of himself, but his grip was tight—for all that he was pushing Edgar away, he didn’t seem quite able to let go. “You’re a reckless son of a bitch,” he said.

“Well,” Edgar said. “I obviously didn’t get where I am by being measured and reasonable.”

The showman’s gaze drifted down, over the length of Edgar’s prickling skin, to the sodden cling of the white fabric against his hips. Edgar suddenly did not feel particularly cold anymore.

Sharktooth let go as if burned. “Fucking hell, next time put some clothes on,” he said, jerking the skewed lapels of his coat back into place. Buttons flashing, blackened lips twisted into a scowl, he snatched up Edgar’s jacket and shoved it into his hands.

Edgar accepted the bundle, but made no move to redress. “I appreciate you not murdering me,” he said.

“You better stop tempting me,” the showman muttered, and stomped away into the darkness beyond the stage, until the curtains swallowed him and even the sound of his boots was no longer audible.

Edgar pulled on his jacket, one wet arm at a time. “I think that went well,” he informed the leviathan in the tank, who had nothing to contribute at that time.

#jthm #mmygar #etc

6 notes · View notes