#dunno if anyones had this epiphany before but i just think this conversation is so mcspirk coded

[mulletpeters]

toothache of the mind

ship: peterpatter

rating: g

word count: 1938

tags: canon compliant, pre-canon, high school, 1990s, best friends, feelings realization, pining

Reggie gets braces for his sweet sixteen.

He doesn’t tell anyone―not even his best friends in the whole wide world. So when he walks into homeroom the Tuesday after his birthday, Luke nearly topples out of his chair at the sight of the metal wrapped around Reggie’s adorable little snaggletooth. Alex may or may not be hyperventilating, but Luke wouldn’t know. He’s distracted.

Reggie, for his part, is acting like Luke’s world hasn’t just been tilted on its axis in a dangerous way. “Hey, guys,” he says nonchalantly. “Sup?”

Alex recovers much quicker than Luke, though there’s still a glint of concern in his eyes. They both know how self-conscious Reggie can be, especially about his smile, so he treads carefully. “Hey, Reginald. Do anything fun for your birthday?”

They had their own party on Friday after school―Luke gave Reggie a new studded strap for his bass because the one he’d found in Bobby’s garage had started to look pretty sad―but Reggie’s parents are the type to force family time onto him any chance they get. Luke has a sneaking suspicion they only do it so they can use Reggie against each other in whatever asinine argument comes up that day, but it’s not like he can really do anything about it. None of them can, so Reggie is unfortunately left to his own devices when it comes to compulsory dysfunctional family celebrations. “Not really,” he says in lieu of giving any actual details; he’ll tell them eventually, but a crowded classroom is not ideal for dishing out his personal drama. “Got braces.” He shrugs, like his mom hasn’t made him feel like shit about his less than perfect teeth for most of his childhood. Definitely since Luke’s known him, anyway, and they’ve been friends since they were ten.

“Oh, did you?” Alex asks, and it sounds borderline sarcastic but he holds back most of his usual bite. “Let’s see ‘em, then.” He holds an arm out in a grand gesture like he’s giving Reggie the floor, and Reggie flashes the most hesitant smile Luke’s ever seen on him.

Luke swears his heart stops, but Alex is once again carrying the conversation so he does his best to tune in. “Oh, nice,” Alex says, approving of the red brackets stuck to the front of Reggie’s teeth with a slight nod.

Reggie returns the gesture, and he looks considerably more relaxed now that he knows his friends won’t shun him for something this mundane. “Thanks,” he tells Alex before turning to face Luke, and he looks a little apprehensive, like maybe Luke should get his brain to reboot so he can offer some reassuring words instead of just staring like a total weirdo.

Luke wants to say something about how red looks good on him, or how it’s cool that it’ll match his favourite flannel, or maybe he’d settle for even just a supportive thumbs up. What actually comes out of his mouth is, “How long do you have to wear them?”

Reggie gives him a funny look, head tilted and brow furrowed. “Only like, a year,” he answers anyway, and Luke wants to scream.

Thankfully, the teacher chooses that moment to draw their attention to the front of the room, and Reggie turns around in his seat so Luke can only see the back of his head. Luke sighs in relief, sinking further into his chair till his limbs are sprawled out into the aisle, accepting his defeat. It’s gonna be a long year.

-

Luke decidedly does not address the issue after that day. The issue being that weird fluttery feeling he gets in his chest every time Reggie smiles at him, or laughs, or talks, or breathes. Basically any time he sees the glint of metal in Reggie’s mouth, really.

It’s not like this is a new development, exactly; Luke has always had a bit of a soft spot for Reggie, a little bit of weakness. In the six years they’ve known each other, he can’t recall a time that Reggie just existing didn’t make his brain static out. The braces just made him recognize what’s always been true, even if he still doesn’t know how to make sense of it.

Normally he’d talk to his best friends about whatever’s on his mind, but he can’t very well articulate a dilemma he can’t comprehend to begin with. Plus, he doubts Alex would be any help, considering he’s got his own set of issues to work through, and he’d rather die than bring it up with Reggie himself. And as for Bobby, well. Bobby’s got the emotional depth of a puddle. So, naturally, he does the only logical thing there is to do: he writes.

He figures if Reggie’s smile is stuck in his head like a song, he might as well make it one. It’s what he’s good at, and it gives him a false sense of separation from the issue that grants a certain clarity he can’t get any other way. He jots down pages and pages of lyrics, curled up in his bed late one night, fingers itching for his guitar even though he knows his mom would kill him if she caught him playing at 1am again. So he just sits cross-legged on his comforter, hunched over his ratty old notebook, scrawling cliche lines about green eyes and freckles and an endearingly crooked canine.

It’s the sappiest thing he’s ever written. When he reads over it before school the next morning, he knows he’s well and truly fucked.

-

Reggie plops down into the dip in the center of the studio couch, inadvertently leaning onto Luke’s shoulder. “You working on a new song?” he asks, tilting his chin at the notebook on Luke’s lap like the question needs clarification.

Luke nods even as he scrambles to shut the book, shuffling loose papers to stuff them between the creased cover. “Uh,” he stammers, biting his lip. “Yeah, I am.”

Reggie just nods back, averting his eyes to look up at the loft when he realizes that Luke doesn’t want him to see the song. “Rad. What's it called?” He glances at Luke, offering a comforting smile that says Luke can tell him as much or as little as he wants.

And well, that's the thing. Luke hasn't given it a name yet―the song, or the bewildering cocktail of feelings that inspired it to begin with. So he looks up from his scratchy handwriting to Reggie’s lopsided grin and says the first thing his useless brain can come up with. “Crooked Teeth.”

“Oh.” Reggie’s smile slides right off his face and Luke realizes what he's done half a second too late. Reggie bites his lip self-consciously, fidgeting with the sleeves of the flannel tied around his waist as Luke scrambles to backtrack into less sensitive territory.

“It's about Bobby,” he blurts unwittingly. And technically speaking, it is a little bit about Bobby, mostly because it's a little bit about the whole band, seeing as they’re mentioned in one line of the second chorus. But Bobby’s not the point of the song, not by a long shot. Luke decides Reggie doesn't need to know that, though. Especially not when his face lights up at the revelation, conspiratorial eyebrow raised like Luke’s letting him in on some great secret.

“Oh, snap! Well, I won't tell him, but don't let him find those lyrics.” Reggie winks, and it's not like it’s an unfamiliar sight, but Luke’s heart stutters out of time all the same. He's just glad Reggie isn’t the type to ask to see a song before Luke’s ready to share it; Luke doubts he'll ever be ready to share this particular piece, but if he does show it to Reggie, it'll be his choice.

He laughs halfheartedly, more a forceful exhale than anything else, and lands a playful punch to Reggie’s bicep. “Sure, man.”

Reggie just smiles wider. It feels like a kick straight to Luke’s solar plexus.

-

“You told him it’s about Bobby?” Alex asks, but what Luke hears is, you’re an idiot. Luke looks down at his best friend―he used to consider Reggie his best friend too, but he thinks maybe Reggie is in a category all his own at this point―and frowns. “He got his braces off before we even met him.” Alex stands up, walking around his drum kit to pace the floor. “And you told Reggie it’s called Crooked Teeth before you said that? Dude, you know how insecure he is about―”

“Yeah, Al, I know,” Luke huffs, cutting him off. It’s not the title Luke would've consciously chosen, but it's weirdly fitting, in a sort of convoluted way. Like, maybe Reggie’s teeth weren’t the sole catalyst for this whole...whatever this is, but they definitely played a major part. Luke’s really gonna miss Reggie’s snaggletooth, okay? He resents Reggie’s parents for a lot of reasons, but forcing him to get braces instead of a real birthday present is pretty damn high on the list.

Alex, with all his anxiety-induced powers of perception, notices Luke’s internal struggle and momentarily stops wearing a hole in the floor. “You’re kinda wiggin’ out, man. Chill.” He holds his hands out in what’s meant to be a placating gesture, but the drumsticks in his fists sort of ruin the effect.

“You’re one to talk,” Luke mumbles, but he doesn’t mean it, and Alex knows that. He’s just confused, and stressed, and generally unsure what to do with his recent epiphany. “What should I do?” he asks louder, eyes pleading.

Alex goes back to nervously lapping the room, and Luke picks at a loose string on his guitar strap just to have something to do. “I dunno,” Alex says after what could very well be an eternity. “But I think you’d feel better if you told him.”

Luke’s eyes shoot up to meet Alex’s gaze, brow furrowing involuntarily. “You what?”

Alex walks over, planting his feet in front of Luke, clapping a hand on Luke’s shoulder that isn’t holding his guitar strap up. “You’re clearly upset about this, Lucas. Tell him.”

Luke is shaking his head before Alex has even finished his sentence. “Not happening.” He folds his arms like a petulant child, but it loses its effectiveness when his guitar gets in the way, a sad thump echoing through the room. “I wouldn’t know what to say, anyway.”

Alex cocks an eyebrow with a pointed look at the notebook sitting on top of Luke’s amp. “I think you already said it.”

Luke follows his line of sight, eyes landing on the folded corner of a piece of paper sticking out from all the others. He already knows what’s written on it―has the words memorized by now. They were written on his heart long before he put them to the page, anyway.

Bobby bursts into the studio then, Reggie in tow, and the moment is broken. They’re laughing about something Bobby said, and Reggie is as beautiful as ever as he throws his head back, and Luke thinks that maybe one day he’ll get the courage to tell him how he feels. He’ll ask Alex to work with him on the music to go with his lyrics, maybe even get Bobby to help with the melody. He’ll throw rocks at Reggie’s window and serenade him from his front lawn like they do in the movies, and his friends will back him up, and it’ll be perfect.

For now, he needs to focus on perfecting the songs they already have. They’ve got a show at the Orpheum next summer to prepare for.

[artificialqueens]

To New Hytes, 10/10 (Group fic) - Mac

AN: I’m truly at a loss for words. I can’t thank Meggie enough for all the work she has put into this. Betaing for me is not an easy task and she makes it look simple.

I started this fic exactly a year ago to this day and I never imagined I would finish it, let alone fall in love with it. I know that was so cheesy but it had to be said.

I hope you enjoy this last chapter!

Summary: Yvie finds out what Scarlet has been hiding, Vanessa gets a new opportunity, and Trixie finishes Katya’s book.

Yvie held her breath as the minutes ticked by.

Scarlet had asked her breathlessly over the phone to come to the studio as quickly as she could. Yvie had done so, telling her Uber driver she would tip him extra if he got there in half the time.

The parking lot was practically empty when they pulled up, save for Scarlet’s pristine white Lexus parked right next to the door.

Yvie’s heart hammered in her chest and she felt like she might throw up from nerves. Scarlet had sounded worried. Scared even.

As she approached the doors, she found them unlocked, and the pit of dread in her stomach threatened to suffocate her if she breathed too deeply.

She and Scarlet hadn’t talked, not about anything meaningful anyway. Yvie hadn’t mentioned the conversation she had overheard, or the fears she had, or the crippling feeling that she was about to be left.

Yvie, confrontation-loving Yvie, hadn’t said a thing because she was scared it would only accelerate the path to loneliness.

She had bitten her lip.

She bit her lip now too to keep from crying, the familiar studio setting doing nothing to keep her mind steady. The lights were all down, save for a flickering candle at the end of the narrow hallway. It was still light outside so the image wasn’t as creepy as it could have been.

She followed the path down the hall, noticing more and more candles lining the pathway as well as a sudden appearance of rose petals on the ground.

The unease in Yvie’s stomach waned a bit as confusion took over.

When she rounded the next corner, it suddenly hit her. Standing in the doorways of the numerous practice rooms were her friends and coworkers; her family at this point.

Nina and Monet smiled brightly, as they offered her a red rose each, Nina reaching out to squeeze Yvie’s hand in reassurance. Yvie couldn’t stop the tears from springing to her eyes as she continued down the hall. Trixie, Jinkx, and Violet were up next, handing her more roses and winking knowingly. Then Vanessa, A’keria, and Dela, who giggled as she passed. Blair and Kameron gave her full body hugs and the last two flowers.

Then there was Brooke. The face of the company that had brought her and Scarlet together. The person that had made their dreams a reality.

Brooke pulled Yvie close and held on tightly. “You deserve all the happiness in the world,” she whispered.

And if Yvie wasn’t crying already, that would have done it.

She held onto Brooke for dear life, her mind spinning on her neck from the overwhelming feelings building up inside her. She smiled into the older woman’s shoulder and tried to channel the years and years of gratitude, adoration, and love into a simple embrace.

“Thank you.”

It was two simple words.

But Brooke knew.

She always knew.

She pulled back to give Yvie a once over, smiling softly as she moved a piece of hair out of Yvie’s face.

“Now go get your girl.” Brooke nodded in the direction of the rehearsal room.

Yvie giggled through the tears in her eyes and squeezed Brooke’s shoulders once more before turning to enter the last door.

Scarlet stood in the middle of the wide room, surrounded on all sides by rose petals and candles, smiling so brightly Yvie swore she had to squint.

Their eyes met, and Yvie felt so incredibly stupid for ever doubting her. For doubting them.

Yvie didn’t hesitate, she walked right up to her girlfriend and pulled her in by the waist for a kiss. Scarlet chuckled, taken off guard at first, before relaxing into Yvie’s arms, sighing happily against her lips.

“Yes,” Yvie whispered against Scarlet’s smile.

Scarlet pulled back just enough so she could roll her eyes pointedly. “Let me do my speech first, stupid.”

Yvie chuckled and nodded her head a second later.

“Yvangeline.” Scarlet smiled, “The day I met you I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Fear.” She swallowed, and Yvie noticed her hands trembling the slightest bit as she took them in her own. “I was scared because you made me want to open up in a way I hadn’t done in a long while. And you just showed up with your loud laugh and your weird style and I couldn’t help but fall for you.”

“Naturally,” Yvie cracked, making Scarlet roll her eyes fondly.

“You saw the good in me when no one else would.” Scarlet flipped her hair over her shoulder dramatically. “And I’m pretty great so I dunno how they didn’t see it.”

Yvie laughed to keep from crying. “You are.” She smiled.

Scarlet beamed. “So, my partner in crime, my one true love, my Yvie,” she said, taking a knee. “Will you marry me?”

Yvie didn’t even have to think before tackling Scarlet to the ground.

She was distantly aware of shrieks of joy coming from behind them, but she tuned them out, content to breathe Scarlet in and out for the rest of her life.

…

Brooke didn’t know what she was doing here.

She had taken time off, said she needed space and a place to regroup. But Scarlet had called her in a frenzy, pleading for her help and advice. Brooke wasn’t about to turn her away.

So now here she was, sandwiched between Nina and Kameron who were doing their best to collectively bite their tongues at her sudden appearance.

Scarlet, like any good stage manager, had walked them through the process, telling each person the precise place they needed to stand and the exact second they needed to poke their heads out. Brooke chuckled to herself that even during one of the supposed ‘happiest moments of her life,’ Scarlet still had to micromanage.

Pot meet kettle, her mind shot back.

Yvie of course said yes, and the rest of the girls surrounded the couple, drowning them in hugs and congratulations.

The group migrated toward the adjacent practice room that had been set up for the afterparty. Food and drinks and music began to flow freely as lively conversation ensued.

Brooke stuck to Nina’s side like duct tape, avoiding making eye contact with anyone who might ask her questions, specifically one young gorgeous brunette that seemed to be absorbed in whatever hilarious thing A’keria had said.

Brooke had said she needed time to put things in perspective. She had meant that she hoped time would make her feel less crazy, less out of control. A place where things weren’t so intensely overwhelming.

All she had found in her three days of leave was that her bed felt slightly bigger.

Nothing monumental.

No grand epiphany under intense stress.

No flashing lights or dangerous circumstances.

No near-death experience.

Brooke’s bed just felt too big.

The hole in her chest felt even bigger.

That’s how she knew it was love. Because it came in the form of something so painfully ordinary that it made Brooke want to scream.

Brooke was sulking in the far corner when Monet came by to steal Nina away for some “picture editing business.” And by “picture editing business” Brooke knew that Monet actually meant that they were going to go make out in Brooke’s office.

She rolled her eyes at the two lovebirds, but bit back a smile as they disappeared down the hallway, giggling like highschoolers. It was then that she caught Vanessa’s eye over the crowd of people.

Vanessa spoke to the group beside her, eyes never leaving Brooke’s, as she excused herself. She approached slowly, giving Brooke ample time to run away.

But she didn’t. Not this time.

“Hey,” Vanessa spoke cautiously, nervous energy rolling off her stiff shoulders.

“Hey.”

They both stared at the floor.

“Wasn’t sure when you was comin’ back.”

“Yeah, me either.”

The silence stretched out between them

Vanessa sighed. “Well,” she coughed, “I just wanted to thank you for everythin’.”

Brooke’s head shot up at her oddly professional tone. “What do you mean?”

“Nina didn’t tell you?” Vanessa looked surprised.

Brooke shook her head.

“I got an offer from another studio.”

Brooke’s heart plummeted to her stomach.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Vanessa breathed shakily, her hands fidgeting by her sides the longer she stood in place.

She let the information linger in the air between them for a bit, dousing the conversation with an even more tense air, before finally meeting Brooke’s eyes.

“I’m not gonna be in your way no more.” Vanessa smiled sadly. “You’re free.”

Brooke shook her head. No. No. This wasn’t right.

“Vanessa—”

The younger woman cut her off. “I appreciate the experience, Ms. Hytes.”

Brooke had only seconds to act, her brain taking over in a split second to stop Vanessa’s retreat. Her arm darted out of its own volition and she grabbed Vanessa’s hands in her own. It was an act of desperation, Brooke not willing to lose Vanessa. Not again.

“Stay,” she blurted out.

Vanessa raised her eyes slowly, her guard up. “What?”

There was that ever-present wariness lingering in the back of Brooke’s mind, but she shook it off and cleared her throat, desperately trying to get a hold of herself. “I’m asking you to stay.”

Vanessa’s eyes hardened and she went to shake her head. “Brooke—”

“Not as your boss,” Brooke clarified, accentuating her point by squeezing Vanessa’s hands, holding them securely, close to her heart. “‘Nessa,” she said softly, “I want you to stay.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Vanessa nodded. It was measured, unyielding. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Brooke shook her head, smiling to herself. Of course, Vanessa had to push.

The memory of their first meeting flashed in front of her eyes. All the unfounded anger and snarkiness and passive-aggressive words echoed in her ears. But so did the sound of Vanessa’s even breaths as she slept, her full belly laughs at Brooke’s endless list of dad jokes, her quiet humming in the shower.

Brooke found that in this instance, after everything it had taken to get them here, she didn’t seem to mind the pushing all that much.

“Because I love you.”

There was a beat of silence, just enough time for Brooke’s rational thinking brain to kick on and begin to spiral that she had misread everything and overstepped.

“You drive a hard bargain, Hytes.” Vanessa let the corner of her mouth twitch up. “But I guess I could stick around a bit longer.”

…

Katya had been standing outside the bar for nearly ten minutes now.

Trixie watched her through the sweaty window panes, sipping what had been rum half an hour ago but was now just melted ice cubes. She was stalling, swirling the water droplets in the bottom of her glass around in circles, attempting to get lost in this feeling of limbo that wouldn’t last much longer.

Katya hadn’t noticed her yet but had been checking her phone every few minutes for a text that wasn’t coming.

Trixie didn’t know how to do this right. Still wasn’t entirely convinced she wanted to do this in the first place. But Katya was looking more worried by the second, and Trixie couldn’t put this off forever.

She downed the rest of her ice cubes and didn’t shiver at the cold that traveled the length of her throat.

Katya looked up at her appearance, joy and hesitation etched into the clean lines on her face.

“Wanna take a walk?” Trixie offered.

Katya just nodded, the same nervousness persisting just beneath the surface of her skin. But she took Trixie’s hand in her own, much colder one; the younger woman fought the urge to shake it off.

“I read your book.”

Read was more of an understatement.

Trixie had devoured Katya’s autobiography in one sitting. She had poured over the pages upon pages of intricate details, funny asides, and heartbreaking losses. And at the core of it, she had found something so incredibly human that it burned in the back of her throat when she finished. Face wet, eyes sore, mouth dry, her stomach burning with the kind of ache that she had only ever heard songs about.

It was a mess. Chaotic and unhinged and tragically beautiful.

Tragic, because at the end of it all, Trixie knew for sure that she would never be able to compete with Katya’s home.

No amount of love she had for the princess would be enough to keep her.

“You miss it?” Trixie asked. “Russia?”

Katya quirked an eyebrow up at the change of subject. “Why do you ask?”

Trixie sighed and let herself come to a stop on the sidewalk. “I think you should go back.”

“What?” Katya exclaimed, eyes were wide in surprise.

“I think you should go home.”

“That’s not my home anymore. It never was,” she insisted.

Trixie shook her head, sad smile set in place on her lips. “That’s not true. The way you talk about it, the things you wrote… You talk about it like a lost love.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Trixie countered. “You love it and you miss it. There’s no shame in that.”

“I value my freedom too much to go back.”

“Katya, you have the opportunity to make a change over there. Your people are waiting for you!”

“They aren’t my people!” Katya exclaimed. “They are just people. And I don’t even know them. They don’t even know me. How the hell am I supposed to lead people I don’t know?”

“The way you do everything else. With unbridled passion.”

Katya looked back at her, shoulders set, eyes wild, lips turned up at the sides. She looked… impressed.

“You know you have to go back.”

“I know.” Katya laughed, loud and brazen and full of so much sadness that Trixie’s heart nearly gave out at the sound. “I just wanted a chance to live a little first.”

“And how was it?”  Trixie smiled sadly, pulling Katya closer, their fingers intertwining loosely.

“Oh, it was wonderful,” Katya said wistfully, her eyes never once leaving Trixie’s. “I only wish we had more time.”

Trixie nodded, eyes watering of their own volition. Katya shook her head slightly as she wiped away the tears at the corners of Trixie’s eyes.

They stood like that in the middle of the sidewalk, holding each other, for an immeasurable amount of time. Breathing in and out for as long as they could stand it.

Eventually, Trixie’s legs tired and her arms ached and she felt the alcohol in her system fade to nothingness.

She was the first to pull away.

Words failed her at that moment as she stared into the eyes of this woman, the princess of Russia, this crazy fucking woman that had turned her world upside down.

Luckily she didn’t have to think of what to say.

“I won’t forget you, myshka.” Katya whispered in the small space

Trixie shook her head. “Me either.”

…

On the Uber ride back to the studio, Trixie unlocked her phone to find three missed calls and twenty-some texts, half being pictures of Brooke and Vanjie sucking face at Yvie and Scarlet’s engagement party. Trixie chuckled to herself.

About time, she thought.

Trixie thanked her driver with a generous tip and watched until his car disappeared into the bustling city traffic of the night.

She turned back toward the familiar building, her suddenly heavy feet making the trek to the propped door that much slower. She let her mind slow to nothingness as she entered the studio, noting the music still playing clearly over the speakers.

She made her way down the hallway, tracing her fingertips along the framed photos on the wall. Their first night of shows as a company, their first-ever programs, their world tour announcement.

Trixie smiled instinctively at the memories, clear as the pictures themselves.

As she rounded the corner to the rehearsal room, she smiled that much wider.

There, spread out in a circle on the very expensive, very meticulously cleaned dance floor, was the entire cast of To New Hytes Dance Company.

They greeted Trixie with a collective squeal and before she could blink, she was pulled down into the circle and handed a cup of room temperature wine.

As Trixie surveyed the scene, she felt a familiar warmth pool in the base of her gut, one that lit her up from the inside out. The smiling faces of her friends filling her vision and making the hole in her chest feel just a bit fuller.

When everyone had a cup, Yvie attempted to clear her throat loudly. It only resulted in setting herself off into a coughing fit and causing the rest of the girls to fall into raucous laughter.

After the noise died down, Yvie tried again.

“To old friends!” She hollered.

“To fresh starts!” Scarlet called.

“To New Hytes!” Trixie cheered.

[looselucy]

The Forgotten Feeling

July 1st I stood with my arms folded, pretending to be unimpressed just to see the look on my dads face, like my approval was the very last thing he was waiting on before he put an offer in on a place that was really perfect for him, scared of my disapproval. “You hate it, don’t you?” He winced. I couldn’t keep up the act any longer, a giant smile teeming with mischief finally cracking across my face. “I love it.” I admitted. “You cheeky fucker.” He whacked my arm lightly. “You had me worried then!”

“You’re so easy to wind up.” I sniggered. “Genuinely, it’s lovely. I love it. Get a bloody move on before someone else snaps it up.” We were less than an hour out of Rosebury, which was perfect as far as I was concerned. My main worry was that he would have been hours away, but our trip to the viewing that morning had felt like nothing whatsoever. My car hadn’t even struggled, which was a miracle given the state of it, but proof of just how close he would be. The town he’d chosen was a little bigger than Rosebury, with a bit more going on, somewhere where he could really build a new life and find ways to pass the time, find new habits, new friends, new passions. I was excited for him. “Are you sure?” He seemed hesitant. “Of course I’m sure. You really don’t have to worry about me, dad, I promise. I want this for you.” It was understandable why he was convinced I’d want him to stick around, because I’d been encouraging him to move back to Rosebury for some time before he actually did. But that was before I actually saw him there, recognized what living in that village did to him. It wasn’t healthy. I wanted him to leave, which wouldn’t have even made sense to me a year earlier, but times had changed. “Come on, let’s get it done. Gotta head back soon anyway.” I took a deep breath in. “I’ve got a date.” “Is that tonight?” He seemed so happy for me, so sweet as we headed down the stairs towards the front door. “Mhm.” “And how’re you feeling about it?” “Okay, I think, yeah.” I nodded. “Sort of excited. Kinda nervous.” “Good. I think it’s good to be nervous.” “Yeah, I think so too. And I dunno what he has planned for me, which is cute. He wants to take me out of Rosebury, but other than that I’m clueless.” I was heading into the evening with an open mind, feeling positive, strangely calm even with my nerves. In all honesty, it was nice to have something to distract me from my time with Julia, which was something I’d had a hard time moving on from. Even though being around her and talking with her had been curiously constructive, even nice in some ways, it had also been incredibly draining and upsetting. She’d stayed in my shop with me for some time, until we both felt we were in a fit enough state to face the rest of the day. We’d spoke about Harry a little more, the two of us fretting over his general welfare, asking questions that neither of us had the answer to. The main thing I had established was that she wanted to see him again, maybe even more than he wanted to see her. She asked me about Jack, too. If I knew him. I hadn’t known what to say, how I could answer her. Thankfully, she seemed much more aware of what was going on in Jack’s life than she was Harry’s, even telling me it hadn’t been too long since she last saw him. She told me how one time when he was arrested, he managed to reach her, asked her for a place to stay, promised he’d changed, that he wanted to be better. He’d all but emptied her bank account only a few days later, taking what little she had for himself and disappearing. She told me it had happened the previous April, and I knew in my heart that Jack had headed straight from his mother to Harry, robbing from the two of them in a matter of days. I didn’t say it but I knew it. Harry had never really told me about what Jack had said to him when he’d broken into his house that night, all I knew was that he’d gotten into his head and planted so much doubt and misery there that Harry had retreated, cowered backwards into a state where he daren’t find his mother, daren’t speak. Jack had known exactly what to say to ensure that his little brother experienced both mental and physical pain. He made sure to leave a trail of damage behind simply because he knew had the power to do so; for no other reason than because he could. Maybe he’d said he’d been with their mother, lied to Harry and said she wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe it was something else. I knew I’d never get the answers I desired, but knowing Julia and Jack had been together so soon before Jack found Harry, it got me thinking. Jack wasn’t like Harry. He had no desire to change, no good in his heart that told him what was right and what was wrong. He didn’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness, and nor was he asking for it, even when he said he was. And though I knew Julia had wanted to find Harry, I imagined that being in touch with Jack and seeing how he hadn’t changed, how he’d worsened, would make her question whether or not seeking Harry was the right thing. It would only be natural for her to feel that way. I’d spoken so highly of her youngest that I hoped all qualms and hesitations had been erased. Before she left, we had exchanged numbers, hoping to one day relay good news when it came to Harry, his wellbeing, his whereabouts, but I didn’t feel confident that we’d ever get back in touch with each other unless she was to visit my store again one day. I was trying not to think about it. “Let me go talk to the estate agent, see what my next move should be.” My dad said as we headed outdoors. The money he’d managed to save when hoping to keep Rita in that home for another year meant he had more than enough money for a good mortgage on the house he was interested in, which was one less thing to worry about. I waited on the sidelines as they spoke things through, looking up and down the busy street, cars zipping by every few seconds, and it was already so different to Rosebury simply because of the general atmosphere. I was positive it was going to be good for him there. Really good. My dad approached me a few minutes later, a big smile on his face. “M’gunna follow him in the car, go to the estate agents. Do you have time to come with? I’m not sure how long it’ll be.” “Um, I should probably head off, really. Prep myself for this date.” “Mentally or physically?” He laughed. “Um… Probably more mental, to be honest.” He leaned inwards, gave me a quick hug and a kiss right on the top of my head, his sweet sendoff. “Thanks for coming.” “Anytime.” “And don’t feel any pressure, alright?” He said, taking a few cautious steps backwards. “If it’s not right, it’s not right, and that’s okay.” “Meaning?” “Meaning…” He took a few seconds, thought carefully about his words. “If your heart isn’t in it, there might be a good reason for that. It takes a long time for a heart to heal, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. And if it doesn’t feel right… well, it’s best to be honest. With yourself and with him.” “I… I think you might be overthinking it, dad.” I tried. “Good. I hope so. I’m just saying.” He was still smiling like he had the whole thing figured out. “See you soon.” We bid our farewells and then he was gone, leaving me stood questioning whether or not he was onto something, whether I’d been thinking that moving on within myself must involve moving on with someone new. My dad wasn’t the only one who was overthinking.

“This place is really fancy.” I whispered, snuggling down into my seat once our waitress had taken our orders. “Yeah, I think it’s maybe too fancy. I might have made a mistake. It’s definitely a level of fancy that we, as people, are not at.” It wasn’t that I was uncomfortable, not really, maybe just unfamiliar. We were in a town I didn’t know, in a restaurant I’d never been to with prices so extortionate I wondered if there might be little pieces of gold sprinkled onto the top of our food. Familiar suited me, always had. I’d grown up in the same place, barely left, been surrounded by the same people, had the same job since I was nineteen. I guess that was one of the reasons I felt okay about being there with Lincoln; that lovely familiarity which I’d always enjoyed so much. Even at our strangest, our least conversant, I still felt bizarrely at ease around him; safe, almost. Before our meal, he’d taken me to a little place where they had beer-pong tables set up, having a quick couple of matches and knocking some drinks back to ready us for the evening. “I think the beer-pong was more on our level.” I confessed. “I’d suggest we just go back but I’m starving.” He wheezed. “I asked for a recommendation from a lad I work with, one of the other coaches. He said it’s unreal here, and to be honest, he’s not even fancy.” I giggled jauntily, looking down like I was afraid to hold eye contact for too long, wishing I still had a menu to peruse because at least that had given me a good excuse. We hadn’t kissed since our time by the lake over a week prior, and even then it was brief, a way of testing the waters we were treading. “Well, uh… thanks for inviting me.” “Thanks for coming.” He said diffidently. “I’ve been… nervous.” “Yeah?” “You don’t give much away.” His smile was timorous, sheepish. “I literally… I can’t read you.” He seemed almost intimidated, in a way. It was endearing. “Well, what do you wanna know?” “Everything. I wanna know everything.” I already felt as though Lin knew all there was to know, but deep down I knew that wasn’t the case. There are some things it seems your soul saves, making sure you only share with certain people in certain moments, our absolute truths. He’d been in my life very closely for a long time, but there was still so much left to learn. There were sections of my soul he had never seen, and from the look in his eyes then I could see that he wanted nothing more than to experience that epiphany. So we just started talking. We talked and talked without even pausing for breath. When our meals came, they seemed to be pushed aside to make way for the conversations we were having, laughing, sharing, opening up to each other. Our conversations were idle, thoughtful, needless, necessary. We covered so much ground that we wound up sitting there for hours, as contented and calm around one another as we always had been. The only problem I found was that I practically forgot we were on a date. I didn’t feel worried, or apprehensive, or giddy. I was simply sitting with Lin and it was nothing. No matter how much we talked, how much we learnt, how much I enjoyed myself, I knew he wasn’t seeing parts of me saved for a special few, and I wasn’t seeing those parts of him. Everything was so ordinary, standard. I didn’t feel that pull, that excitement, that spark. That familiarity I loved so much was working against us. It wasn’t that I was expecting some grand moment, not on our first date, but I wanted something that I realised I wasn’t getting. It happened in our moments silence, when the bill was handed over to us, the staff practically on the verge of kicking us out since we were the last ones in there; that’s when it happened. I felt like seeing Harry’s mum had thrown me off the steady course I had been walking for the past few months. He was back to being at the forefront of my mind and it made things so fucking difficult. There never seemed to be any closure. When he left after my mother’s funeral, I thought that was it. I knew he was leaving and I knew I wouldn’t see him again, and that should have been enough but it wasn’t and I was only just beginning to realise that. There were too many factors, too many questions left unanswered. Even the way he was before he left, the way we’d kissed, the things he’d said, the way I could literally feel that he didn’t want to leave, his reluctance heavy upon my chest. I wanted to close the door on us so badly, to shut him out, cease my uncertainties, but it was harder than I thought it would be. “Alf?” I heard Lin talk, but didn’t move. “Alfie?” “Hm?” I shot my head up. “You alright? You kinda… disappeared there, for a second.” “Sorry. I’m fine. Sorry.” “What’s wrong?” It was time to be honest, even if I didn’t fully know what being honest would entail. He deserved as much. So did I. “Do you know how you feel about me?” I asked. “What?” “Do you… have a good grasp on how you feel about me? About all of this?” “I… Yeah, I think I do. Why? Do you… Do you not?” He already seemed crushed, not wanting to hear my answer at the same time as needing to know how I’d been feeling. “Uh… I dunno. It’s like I’m waiting for this moment of clarity, but it’s not happening.” I admitted gloomily. “I still feel… really unsure of what I want and how I feel and it’s pissing me off.” Though he grinned, there was a sadness in his eyes that he couldn’t quite hide, clearing his throat and looking down to the table before he answered me. “Well, y’know… we’ve been friends for a long time. I think it’d be weird if it did just… switch like that. Maybe it’ll take some time.” “Is that how you feel?” “Uh…” He was awkward, shifting in his seat, messing with his hair. “I’ve… Personally, I’ve thought about this for a while, so it’s different for me. I think I was pretty set on it, to be honest.” “So… How do you feel? What’s going on in your head?” “I’m having a good time. I’m enjoying your company, and like… I think you’re amazing. I love spending time with you. If we could do this every night, that’s me happy.” I smiled, weirdly feeling a similar way. We’d had such a lovely evening, I really didn’t have a bad word to say about it, even now we’d seen the bill. But that didn’t mean romance to me. “Do you worry that… we don’t have a spark?” I asked guardedly. “I think if there was no spark at all, we wouldn’t be here, right?” He seemed to be asking rather than telling me. “M’starting to doubt myself a bit though. If you don’t wanna be here-” “I do, that’s the thing! I do wanna be here, and I’ve had the best night tonight. This is the happiest I’ve been for… fucking months, but… I dunno. I think I’m waiting on that rushed feeling.” “But you’re not getting it.” He couldn’t look at me, voice low, dejected. It pained me to answer him, but I thought about my fathers’ words earlier, about honesty, and even though it wasn’t the easiest option, I knew it was the best. “No.” I wanted to cry. “M’sorry. I wish I was, but…” “Okay.” He took a deep breath in, sucked it right into his chest to the point where his posture changed completely, sitting upright and rolling his shoulders. “M’kinda worried that… something’s holding you back. Like maybe you’re too lost in your head with it. I mean… it’s fine, if you’re not feeling it, I get it. But I just… I don’t want that to be because you’re holding yourself back, y’know? I get that there’s bound to be reservations, we’ve been friends for so fucking long, I get it. But I think we’ve really gotta let it happen naturally and not… think about it too much. Or maybe I’m just… fucking forcing it, I dunno. I just wanted this to work so much and-” “No, I get it. I do. You might be right, y’know. I’ve… definitely overthought a few things. Shit, this whole thing is such a head fuck.” I groaned. “And I wanna try and I wanna put the effort in and see how it goes, but I also don’t wanna feel like I’m dragging this out and giving you false hope if I’m not set on it and I just… I’m so fucking annoyed with myself.” My frustration cultivated from the knowledge that what he said could have been completely true. I’d thought about it so much and linked it to different things and questioned every inch of it to the point where I was bound to be doubting myself, doubting what was happening. There may have been a good reason behind it, but it also might have just been complete nonsense that was bred simply from my whirring mind being unable to rest. There had been a time when I’d overthought things with Harry, calling an end to it before it had even began, and to look back that seemed so strange to me. Maybe this was a similar thing. The only difference was that even when I’d tried to put a stop to things with Harry, after our first time together and in the early hours of New Year’s Day, something always brought me back to him, this benevolent energy pulling us together, some higher force willing our souls to intertwine. That was lacking with Lin. I sat in silence, wishing away the migraine my thoughts were causing. “Can I kiss you again?” He asked tenderly. “I really wanna fucking kiss you.” “Lin, why the hell do you wanna kiss me after all the shit I’ve just said?” “Because I do.” He shrugged, like it was nothing. “We can find our spark. We’ve just gotta… let it happen. We’ve gotta allow it to happen. I mean, I feel it. But I get it, if you’ve got a guard up. It makes sense, after everything that happened with Sam, but… Yeah. I dunno.” I nodded. Strangely enough, I didn’t blame Sam for how guarded I was. I suppose I hadn’t really thought of myself as guarded at all until he said that. I hadn’t thought that might be one of the many reasons why I was unsure. The demise of me and Harry was the reason for my hesitancy. The pain he’d caused was more substantial and rooted than anything I’d known before, a sign of just how deeply I had loved him. “So can I kiss you?” He asked, the happiness returning to his eyes, which sparked a happiness in me. My nod was small and rapid, shy as he stood himself up to lean across the table, leaving me to do little of the work as I leant forward just slightly so he could reach me, placing his hands in my hair, right against the back of my head, ushering me that bit closer so he could place his lips upon mine, the two of us still smiling a little at first, and then we eased into it, Lin knocking over a wine glass as we lost ourselves. It was nice not completely over-analyse that moment, and instead simply enjoy it.

July 2nd “Morning!” I greeted Louis with a giant smile as I let myself into the shop, feeling good, feeling fresh. “Hey!” He seemed shocked by my presence. “Thought you were gunna rock up late today?” “Ah, yeah well me and Lin didn’t get as drunk as I imagined we might.” I’d told Louis not to expect me until the afternoon, predicting that Lincoln and I would be having one too many drinks in order to get through our date contentedly, but that hadn’t been the case at all. I figured I might as well turn up to work a few hours earlier than anticipated. “How was it?” Louis asked, stood a little rigidly in the middle of the shop floor as I edged around him to get behind the counter, ready myself for the day. “Uh… it was fine.” I sighed but smiled. “It was really nice, I don’t have a bad word to say about any of it, especially him.” “But?” He raised his brows. “I’m not thinking about the but right now.” I held my hand up as though literally blocking his words. “All I’m thinking about is the fact I had a nice night. I need to do less thinking.” “Okay.” He sniggered, turning on his spot so he was facing me. “Uh, so a weird thing happened this morning.” It was immediately obvious to me that he was too distracted by whatever had gone on to grill me on my date with Lin. I figured that was why he seemed tense, strange. “What’s up?” “Uh, not much. Just a bit of a mix up with a delivery. Sort of. The thing is… Shit. C’mon, I’ll just show you.” He cleared his throat and began leading me towards the back room, where we kept the kettle, a few bottles of wine we usually used for tasting, and every other bit of rubbish and half used item we didn’t know what else to do with. It was messy but charming in there. “I didn’t even know we had a delivery due today.” I mumbled as I followed him. “That’s the thing, we didn’t! I just kinda predicted it was a delivery for the shop,” He was rambling. “But it was actually a delivery for you. So, I’m sorry, I opened it. I’m really sorry, I genuinely didn’t have a clue, I thought it was a new sign for over the door and-” “Louis, I don’t care! It’s fine!” I chuckled. “Just… Don’t freak out, okay?” He cringed with his fingers grasped around the handle, leaving me only a second to panic over his words before he swung the door open and revealed what had gotten him into such a state. “What… the fuck.” I whispered. I felt sick. My head was spinning and my stomach churning, blinking as though what I’d seen might disappear, like I’d imagined it. Because propped up against the desk on the floor right in front of me, was an infamous piece of work, one I never thought I’d see with my own eyes. It was Harry’s painting. His Blood Sun. Dizzily, I approached it, waiting until I was just a few inches away before I practically fell down to my knees, reaching and stroking my fingers across the paint, looking up and down and over every inch of in an attempt to make sense of what I was seeing, an attempt to appreciate the splendour beneath my trace. Fuck, it was beautiful. It was so fucking beautiful I thought I was going to cry. It was so much bigger than I had ever imagined it to be, standing taller than me even when I was on my feet and wider than my arms could reach. The paint protruded victoriously from the canvas, some parts sharp, others smooth. The colours were remarkably stimulating, so bright that they were emerging from the canvas, budding outwards to meet me, as though they had a complete life of their own and I was their goddess, their colours a quiet prayer that whispered from between the linen and blessed my ears. It felt like an honour to become so well acquainted with its true exquisiteness; to actually touch a masterpiece. It was striking, astounding, alluring, substantial and profound, utterly dazzling in its beauty. I abruptly fully understood why this certain painting had received the reaction it had, because it was wholly overwhelming and entirely consuming. I kept one hand on the canvas, the other covering my mouth, spellbound. “Uh, so I don’t know about you,” Louis mumbled from behind me. “But I am freaking the fuck out about this.” “There’s no way this is the real thing.” I whipped my head around to him. “There’s just no way.” “Alfie, who the fuck are you kidding? Of course it’s the real thing.” He scalded as I turned back to face the piece. “And seriously, I googled it just before you got here, and the last offer he got was dangerously close to a million and he turned it down.” “What the fuck? What the fuck?” “That was only a few weeks ago. He knew he was gunna send it to you. He must have. Do you realise how much fucking money is sitting right in front of you?” “This shouldn’t be here. This should be in a fucking… museum, I don’t know! What the fuck was he thinking?” I was genuinely in a state of shock. I couldn’t think of a reason why he’d send me that painting, because the only thing I could think at that time was how I’d told him I didn’t want paintings that derived from his pain; I didn’t want paintings with blood, and this painting had more blood than any of his others. Three years of literal blood, sweat and tears had been put into the painting before me. I didn’t know what I was supposed to think, how I was supposed to feel. “Was there an address on it?” I turned back to Louis. “No.” “But… But if it’s international, there has to be!” I cried, talking more to myself. “That means he’s in the country, right? That means he’s home!” “I dunno. I dunno how that stuff works. God knows where he is.” I got back to my feet, inspected the top of the painting closely, unable to stop myself from touching the piece. Despite the sinister reasons he was a physical part of that painting, I still felt this overwhelming sense of him, his body and soul, aware that it was the closest I’d been to him in some time. “Why would he send me this?” I whispered. “There’s a note.” Louis’ voice was deadpan, cautious. “What?” “He attached a note for you.” “Wh-what does it say?” He took a step back, reaching to the counter to pick up a small slip of thick paper that he must have placed there earlier, nervous to pass it over to me but knowing he had to. Before I’d even looked at the words he’d written I was crying. I knew in that exact moment that even though I wanted to, I wasn’t ready to move on. My heart was still aching, still lost within this space he had created, a place where it still somehow felt safe in spite of everything. I’d had given him my heart the day I told him I loved him and never claimed it back. Shaking, I took the note from Louis’ hand, biting ruthlessly at my bottom lip, vision blurry but unable to block the few words he had handwritten carefully for me to see. Thank you for helping me heal. Yours, Harry. That was it. No more, no less. And suddenly it made sense, why he’d passed the painting onto me. He had struggled inordinately when it came to selling that painting; it harboured so much meaning for him and yet so much agony. It was almost his way of grounding himself, tying himself to a certain feeling, a negativity, a pain. His heartbreak had been homed in that painting, making his feelings towards it so intricate he’d never quite known what to do. I had truly thought that the day he felt he could finally sell that painting would be a day of growth, a time in which he could finally move forward, finally start to come to terms with his father’s death, and it seemed that day had finally arrived. He had reached the point I had been longing for him to reach, and it was evident that he felt I was largely to thank for that. That was why he’d gifted it to me. I held the note to my chest, tears rolling peacefully down my cheeks. And even though being without him was still tearing me apart, I finally knew he was finding his happiness. I finally knew that the suffering he had endured for years was waning, tumultuous clouds bearing brash bolts of light making way for serene skies. It was the first time I’d felt truly at ease since he’d left. It was as though that painting didn’t merely bring peace to him, but also to me. I’d forgotten that feeling, but it ruptured within me then, as bright and compelling as the paint upon the canvas he had given me. And somehow, that was enough.

[franklyshipping]

Day 22 ~ Christmas 2019 Ego Fanfics

HOLY MOLY DAY 22 PEOPLE LET'S KEEP THIS GOING WOOOOHOOOO LET'S DO THIS!

What completes a social event? Is it the company, the conversation, the beverages, the music, the décor of whatever venue the social event is set in? No…it’s crippling social anxiety. I know I’ve felt it many a time when you’re at a gathering you don’t want to be at and you’re the outcast amongst all the social groups in attendance. Someone who was particularly feeling it on this night though, was a certain district attorney. No-one knew their name however, which meant everyone had just dubbed them the nickname of Yanan (pronounced yay-nan)…which honestly was the most pleasant thing they’d encountered during the festive period so far. They were…well, they were whatever you feel they might be in terms of looks and underlying personality; in this setting though, they’d found an alcove off of a quieter living area and was sitting in it on the floor.

They had their knees hugged to their chest. Of course, when anybody was morose, a certain glob could sense it. Gooper had been snuggling against one of Yanan’s ankles and cooing softly, trying to coax them into saying hi to people; however, the attorney had stayed put, whispering softly to the little creature in their….unique, layered voice.

‘I’m sorry little one….I can’t go out there yet….’

Gooper whined and whimpered, feeling so sad that Yanan was so secluded and on their own, it wasn’t fair for them! Thankfully though….someone ambling near the alcove just so happened to catch the sounds of Gooper’s sadness, and couldn’t help but investigate. A man in worn trousers, a white vest and navy jacket ended up leaning in the entrance of the alcove, surveying the scene curiously as he twiddled a playing card between his fingers. Allow me to introduce, the Night Guard of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria.

'Ya fall over or somethin’?’

The Guard commented with a raised eyebrow, whilst Yanan tensed at the sudden presence of a stranger. They glanced up at him briefly as they hugged their knees a little tighter, whilst muttering.

‘No….’

The Guard let out a light hum, before folding his arms at his chest and musing.

‘Let me guess, you’re avoiding everyone because they’re kinda a lot to handle and you’re not used to it yet so it’s all overwhelming?’

Yanan nibbled their bottom lip and bowed their head, not replying. Yet, that in of itself gave the Guard their answer. He hummed again.

‘I don’t blame ya. They’re nice and all, but they’re a lot to handle when they’re all together….well, except that one.’

The Guard grinned lightly as he nodded at Gooper, who let out a happy coo before shuffling out of the alcove; Gooper could see that Yanan was in good hands. Yanan fiddled with their fingers and picked at the knees of their jeans as they mumbled.

‘I don’t even know why I’m amongst them all…’

The Guard raised an eyebrow at that….damn this one was really not feeling great. He decided to shuffle into the alcove properly and slide down the wall so he was sitting next to them on the floor, whilst replying in a candid fashion.

‘Probably because they want you to be, you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t wanted.’

Yanan softly scoffed.

‘Most of them don’t even know who I am.’

‘Same here, and honestly I’m kinda happy about it because it means I get to control people’s first impressions of me.’

Yanan blinked a few time at that, before tilting their head to look at their new company curiously. Their amicable, nice, mostly non-invasive company.

‘….why do you need to control that? You seem perfectly nice.’

The Guard’s eyebrows shot up at the nonchalant compliment and his lips stretched into a soft grin as he rubbed the back of his neck softly.

‘Heh….well, that’s sweet of ya to say. I could be better though….I mean jeheez, I haven’t even told you my name….’

Yanan let out a soft snort at that…Yanan found that they liked him. He was just content with talking with them, interacting calmly and nicely and somehow without awkwardness. So they decided to offer them their outstretched hand.

‘I’m Yanan.’

The Guard’s grin widened with surprised delight, and he happily shook Yanan’s hand.

‘People call me Guard. Say, ya wanna venture out there with me? We’ll be more secure as a team.’

At his suggestion however, Yanan tensed up, their arms immediately going to tightly fold at their chest; the Guard could see them curling up inside their mind, and he winced a little at seeing it.

‘I can’t….’

The last thing the Guard wanted was to make Yanan uncomfortable, he just wanted to spend time with them and hopefully help them feel less awkward in this wild, weird-ass place. He let his smile soften as he gently pressed his shoulder against Yanan’s, making sure to be careful with the contact so it wasn’t overwhelming.

‘Hey, c’mon, we don’t even have to talk to anyone. I could just give ya a lil tour of the place if ya want?’

Yanan twisted their lips, shrugging softly at his words. It wasn’t like they wanted to stay secluded, on the contrary, the Guard’s suggestion of a little, relaxed tour sounded like something they very much wanted to do…but, as I’m sure many of you know, anxiety can be a bitch. They were still so nervous and unsure about everything.

‘I-I dunno….’

‘C’mon it’ll be fun! We can sneak into a kitchen and steal food!’

Guard very much had no intention of giving up on his new, multi-faceted companion….and smirked when he heard Yanan let out a soft giggle at his words. The Guard loved making people laugh, it made him feel so giddy and excited, and now was no different.

‘Ohhhh don’t pretend you don’t like that idea!’

The Guard teased, which made Yanan turn their head away from him to hide their smile as they let out another giggle….but that time it came out because of the Guard softly nudging their side amidst his excitement. Yanan rubbed the spot softly as they mumbled playfully.

‘Ihi nehever said that…’

The Guard raised a playful eyebrow at them, before smiling widely with glee. Not just because of how playfully they’d spoken….but also because of how they’d reacted to that little touch to their side. The Guard’s grinned a more wolfish grin now as he started landing very soft pokes at his new friend’s sides, cooing teasingly at them.

‘Awww you do like the idea! Look at you all giggly!’

Yanan’s eyes widened as they spluttered and giggled, a sweet smile rising up on their face rather cutely. Since they were such a multi-layered individual it meant that they were sensitive basically everywhere, which was something that really quite embarrassed them.

‘Hehehey! S-Stahahap ihihit!’

The Guard smirked, his blue eyes twinkling as he used his (very muscly) arms to gently pull Yanan into his chest, trapping them in an embrace as he continued tickling them. He chuckled and cooed once more as he kept his spidering nice and gentle up and down their sides.

‘But ya look so happy! What a ticklish shy bean you are!’

Yanan squeaked, their face scrunching up with embarrassment as they threw their head back against the Guard’s chest, giggling frantically as they blushed and shook their head. They couldn’t believe this was happening, they’d hardly anticipated being noticed in this household, let alone their ticklishness being discovered and being taken advantage of so amazingl-uh…I mean, evilly, of course.

‘Thihihis ihisn’t fahair this ihihisn’t fahaaaair!’

The Guard grinned as he felt them wriggle and squirm in his arms, he could tell they were enjoying every second of this….but the last thing he was going to do was call them out. The Guard figured they deserved to just be tickled and to just be allowed to enjoy it, so he kept spidering and scratching and teasing right into their ear.

‘Ahahaaww you’re too cute! Ya can’t stop giggling no matter how hard you try, can you?’

Yanan immediately hid their pink face in their hands as they giggled harder, kicking out reflexively as the Guard’s tickling fingers targeted the very dips of their sides. They whined oh so preciously.

‘Shuhuhut uhuhuhup! J-Juhust lehet mehe gohoho!’

Yanan risked peeking up at their tickler through their fingers, but soon hid again when they saw the Guard grinning down at them….before making the hug trap even more secure as he spoke dramatically, like he’d had an epiphany.

‘Y’know, maybe it’s actually better that we don’t go out there. Thinking on it, I’d much prefer to spend the day just tickling you riiight here!’

Yanan squealed when they suddenly felt the scratching more to their tummy, and they giddily tried to curl up in the Guard’s lap as they snorted through their bubbily mirth. Now they were really heckin flustered and envisioning being tickled like this all day….hoo.

‘NOHO! Y-Yohohou cahan’t dohoho thahat! Yohohou cahahan’t!’

The Guard snickered at their cute little cries, and whispered playfully as he kept up the tummy scratches.

‘Seems like I already am. Y’know I can see why you chose to settle here, I’m pretty comfy down here…’

Yanan whined through their frantic mirth, weakly grabbing the Guard’s vest and pushed lightly at his chest. They were trembling with giddy butterflies and tickly chills coursing through their whole system as they looked up at the Guard, their eyes wide and watery like an innocent, happy child.

‘P-Plehehehease Guahahard! Plehehease ihihit tihickles soho muhuhuch!’

The Guard snickered, cocking their head down at Yanan fondly….damn they were an adorable little thing. He decided to nuzzle their neck, letting out a soft growl as he taunted in a devilishly low tone.

‘Is that right? Oh you poor, poor little thing, so ticklish with no hope of escape….doomed to be tickled forever and ever….’

Yanan yelped and writhed, scrunching their shoulders and wailing through wild giggles, nearly bordering on cackles now too. Being tickled in two places like this, with neck nuzzling and tummy scratching, was just so damn incredib-uh….unfair.

‘Why ahahare yohou dohohoing thihihis?!’

Internally, the Guard’s answer was “Because you’re so clearly loving every tickly second of this you precious, shy little munchkin”, but he knew he couldn’t say that aloud, not on this tickly occasion anyway, he didn’t want to accidentally bring in any anxiety. So the Guard replied dramatically as his scratchy, blunt nails deftly found Yanan’s lower tummy.

‘Uh, have you seen yourself? Your giggles are like therapy!’

Yanan’s giggles got even more high-pitched as they arched their back, their legs jerking out and kicking sweetly as they looked up at the Guard, desperately flustered and very much in denial of such a statement.

‘Thehehey ahahare nahahat!’

The Guard raised an eyebrow down at them at that, before softly nipping the side of their neck as he retorted goofily.

‘Are too!’

At that particular tickle method, Yanan let out quite the loud yelp….and their cheeks finally transitioned from pink to red.

‘HEHEY! D-D-Dohohon’t doho thahat!’

The Guard let out a playful gasp as he smirked gleefully, before snarling and unleashing a torrent of tickly nibbles up and down the side of their exposed neck.

‘Don’t do what? This-?’

‘AHAHAHA IHIHI CAHAN’T TAHAHAKE IHIT!’

Yanan cried with wide eyes as they burst out into laughter, and the Guard decided to have mercy, knowing that there would be plenty of opportunities in the future for him to explore that laughter in their newly kindling friendship. He chuckled as Yanan cutely panted and curled up against his chest, rubbing their neck.

'Alright I’m done Ihi’m done.’

Yanan whined into the Guard’s chest, smiling a flustered smile as they stammered.

‘Thohose tickles were ehevil! A-And Ihi have cramp….’

The Guard snickered and rolled his eyes, and stroke though Yanan’s ever changing hair as he mused lightly.

‘Well…we could go walk it off if you like, and maaaaybe pick up some snacks on the way?’

Yanan blinked a few times….and smiled, looking up at the Guard and nodding in agreement. Then, the Guard took them for a small walk, showing them a living room, gaming room, and kitchen that weren’t often busy. They acquired some snacks, and found an airing cupboard with some quilts, before venturing back to their alcove, before spending the rest of the day snuggling, snacking, and smiling about those baby steps.

WOOOO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DOOOO LUV YOUS XX

[fic-xation]

First of Many

During a night of cards at the Inventory, Sam recounts the events leading up to his and Max’s first wedding.

Archive

“Soooo... Can I ask you guys a question?"

Brock and Ash exchanged an eye roll.

Claptrap ALWAYS seemed to have a question in regards to Sam and Max.

"Shoot." Sam said with a shrug, tossing a pair of chips towards the center. He never minded the little unicycle-dumpster-fire's innate lack of tact. In fact, he found a lot of Claptrap's mannerisms similar to Max's. The high-pitched voice, the manic eccentricity, the endearing vulgarity...

'... God Lord, do I have a type?' he suddenly thought.

"... What exactly ARE you guys?" Claptrap asked, his processed voice cutting through Sam's somewhat horrific epiphany. Sam, giving his head a stirring little shake, looked towards Claptrap curiously.

"... Like... our species?" he paused, before shrugging. "Well, as far as I know, I'm just your run-of-the-mill anthropomorphic Irish Greyhound. Max, on the other hand-"

"No, no." Claptrap gave his claw dismissively. "I mean, like, your relationship. Are you guys just friends, or dating, or nerf-buddies, or...?" he trailed off, visibly cowering under Brock's disapproving glare.

"Knock it off, Johnny Five, that ain't our business to know."

Claptrap's light flared up almost at once.

"Oh-!" he seethed. "Don't go givin' me that 'holier-than-thou' crap!" Angrily, his lens flitted between Brock and Ash. "We were ALL thinkin' it!"

Sam's brows shot up.

"... Really? ALL of you? ... Even GlaDOS?" he gestured towards the ceiling, and, as if on cue, the ivory skeletal frame of the Aperture AI lowered herself to the table.

"~Quite frankly, I don't really care one way or another.~" she chimed, her yellow sensor unnervingly affixed to Sam's face. "~But even I have to admit, you fail to follow the standard routine of a normal mammalian courtship... But then again, you two are not normal mammals, so I suppose it's just as well...~"

And with one graceful bow, she slid back up towards the ceiling.

"... Gee-" Max said, at long last looking over from his usual booth. "I didn't realize our personal life was such a hot button issue."

Ash leaned back against his chair with a sigh. "... Well, can ya blame us? You two are about as inseparable as me n' my chainsaw. Ordinarily, I'd just say you were real good buddies, but..." he shrugged. "I dunno, it's hard to tell with you whackos."

Sam, somewhat hot under the collar, readjusted his tie.

"... Well, since the whole room seems compelled to put me on the spot, I may as well say it." He glanced over his shoulder, briefly sharing a reaffirming smile with Max. "... Max and I are recently divorced."

... If if it weren't for the soft ambience of smooth jazz, one could've heard a pin drop.

Finally, after a prolonged moment of flabbergasted stares, Brock was the first to speak, carefully keeping his eyes to the minuscule font of his cigarette pack.

"... I'm, uh... I'm sor-"

"WHAT THE #@*&?!" Claptrap screeched, standing up against his wheel. "YOU TWO WERE MARRIED?! LIKE... LEGALLY?! IN FRONT OF GOD?! ... AND THEN YOU JUST... BROKE UP?! BUT YOU'RE STILL FRIENDS?! ... Not to indulge in a harmful stereotype towards robots, but... DOES NOT COMPUTE, MAN! DOES. NOT. FREAKIN'. COMPUTE!"

He then fell back against his chair, his servos evidently spinning.

"... Subtle." Ash quipped, raising his glass in a mock toast. Sam, however, looked confused.

"Broke up? ... What're you talking about? Max and I haven't broken up; we're just as in love now as we've ever been."

"We're just not married." Max continued, hopping up onto Sam's lap. He'd ultimately grown bored at listening in from a distance. Besides, these bozos were finally discussing a worthwhile subject... Him and Sam!

Now it was the table's turn to look confused. Once again, Brock's voice came first.

"... Okaaaaay, ya lost me."

"It's not that complicated, really." Sam said, offering the trio a bemused little smile. "See, every so often, Max and I get a divorce just so we can experience the pleasure of marrying each other all over again."

"Like buyin' a new pair of shoes once the old ones wear out!" Max piped up.

"Or, at least, that's what we ASSUME buying shoes is like." Sam added, helping himself to a sip of root beer.

Another bewildered silence fell over the room.

"... Wait, so-" Ash leaned his elbows against his table, pointedly staring towards the odd couple. "... Exactly how often does this happen?"

"Oh, we're on marriage number twelve now, actually." Sam beamed, seemingly oblivious to the stupefied silence over the remaining players.

Claptrap's lens fidgeted uneasily. "... That's like... romantic, bordering on masochism..."

"Ro-Masochism." Ash offered.

"... Okay, so-" Brock smothered the end of his cigarette against an ash tray. "I can understand wantin' to marry the same person over and over again-"

"Really?" Claptrap glanced over.

"... Well, not really, but I can humor 'em." he shrugged. "... No, what I don't get is, why go to all that trouble? ... Repeatedly, no less. I mean... wouldn't it be easier just to renew your vows and leave it at that?"

"Yeah, we don't believe in that baloney." Max scoffed, folding up Sam's cards into an origami swan. "I mean, what's the point in setting up a fake wedding if you're ALREADY married? It's a total sham."

"A disgrace to the sacred institute." Sam added solemnly.

"Here-Here!" Max proclaimed, shooting the paper swan towards Ash. He caught it almost at once, crushing it between his metallic fist, and dropping it to the floor.

"... Well, I guess I fold." Sam said, scratching his ear. "Pun not intended, of course."

Max rolled his eyes. "Liar."

"So... wait-" Ash held up his hand, drawing the conversation back on track. "Just how the hell can you n' Thumper afford eleven consecutive weddings? I'll admit, my experience with this sorta thing is limited-"

"Yeah-!" Claptrap broke in. "His last fiance wasn't exactly top-shelf material!"

"... In ANY case-" Ash continued through gritted teeth, as Brock slammed his steely fist against the robot's flat top. "Doesn't all that ceremony get pretty expensive after a while?"

"Not at all," Sam said, watching as Claptrap clattered to the floor like an oversized soup can. "Ya just gotta know how to economize."

"We're good friends with the president," Max said, absentmindedly picking at his nose. "And I'M a registered Minister, according to Nebraska. So, we never have to bother with hiring an officiant."

"Not to mention, we get most of our essentials from Bingo's Birthday Bonanza." Sam added. "Balloons, cups, goodies bags-"

"And of COURSE, the cake!" Max bounced a little at the thought. "Last year, it had a dinosaur motif. THIS time, though, I'm thinkin' more... Race car. What do YOU think, Sam?"

"Can't think of a reason NOT to," Sam smiled, tenderly setting his hand between Max's ears.

Brock scratched at his nose. "... So, basically, this whole routine is just an excuse to throw multiple parties in which you two knuckleheads are the centerpiece."

Sam and Max exchanged a look.

"More or less," Sam shrugged.

"Isn't that just a wedding is, though?" Max asked.

Brock had no choice but to chuckle, shaking his head lightly. "Touche."

"Ooh!" piped Claptrap, as he awkwardly clambered back onto his chair. "Here's a question for ya! You two got this whole crazy-train system down to a science... but what about your first run-through, huh? How'd THAT go down?"

"... What, our first wedding, you mean?" Sam asked, a little surprised.

"Hey, yeah!" Ash nodded. "Knowin' you two, that must've been nuts..."

"More importantly, who asked first?" Brock shot Sam a slight smirk. "My money's on ol' Rover Romeo over here."

Sam suddenly gave an embarrassed sort of laugh, shyly averting the table's curious eyes as he turned his muzzle to the side.

"... Well, it's, uh... It's actually a funny story..."

"Oh!" Max clapped his hands together excitedly, glancing up towards Sam. "Can I tell 'em, Sam? Can I, can I, can I?"

Sam paused, before easing back against his chair with a soft smile.

"Sure, buddy. Knock yourself out."

Squealing in delight, Max took to the center of the table, clearing his throat theatrically.

"... Well... it all began on a dark and stormy night..."

 ~~

The rain lashed the ancient cobblestones of our victorian manor like the cruel tongue of an unforgiving governess. I, clad in nothing more than my scandalously sheer negligee, sat alone in my bed chamber, coyly plucking at my harp like a fluffy siren of yore. There was a CRASH of lightning, when suddenly, my door FLEW open with enough force to rattle the chandelier! I gasped, retreating to my bedspread in an effort to save my modesty, but Sam strolled in all the same, beads of rain still fresh against his unkempt fur.

"Max-!" he cried. "I can't STAND it any longer! Your tender touch, your delicate fur, and the THROBBING of your MASSIVE-"

~~

Sam's hat came down like a burlap sack over Max's head, silencing him almost at once.

"... You'll have to forgive my associate." Sam mumbled, shades of red visibly peering through his fur as he dragged Max back towards his lap. "... He, uh... He's been taking some creative writing classes as of late."

"No kidding!" Claptrap announced, ever the enthusiast. "If I had a stomach, I'd be barfing it inside out!"

"... Yeah, that was..." Ash squirmed slightly.

"Gross." Brock concluded.

"... I was gonna say HEART, in case anyone was wondering!" Max shouted, slightly muffled through the material of Sam's stretched-out cap. "... Sheesh, people, get your minds outta the gutter!"

"How's about you let ME tell the story, buddy?" Sam said gently, finally freeing Max from the hat's pincer grip. He gasped for air only once, before shrugging.

"Eh, works for me. That was only a first draft, anyway."

"Much obliged." Sam turned to address the table. "So! You gentlemen ready to enter a proper flashback?"

"Hold it-" Brock held up a hand, stone faced. "Will there be any mention of the word 'negligee?'"

"... Not that I can recall." Sam said, quite honestly.

"Alright then." Brock lit the end of his cigarette. "Continue."

"... Well-" Sam gave the ceiling a ponderous glance, leaning his chair against its back two legs. "... I suppose the the REAL story starts with us cowering behind a tire pile in the city dump."

"And we're startin' off strong!" Max grinned.

~~ "I can't believe that innocent toxic waste mutated New York's over abundance of garbage into a monsterous, (yet vaguely effeminate,) shape!" Sam exclaimed, checking his gun for any remaining ammo.

"Ooh, lovely exposition Sam!" Max said,  his back to the rubber wheeled wall. "I just can't believe she wants ME to be her King of Crap! ... Why ME of all people?

"Could be your smell," Sam proposed, cocking the cylinder back into place. "Second only to her, you're the foulest thing in New York."

"... Saaa-aaam..." giggled Max, coyly cupping his hands to his face. "How am I suppose to concentrate on a life or death situation if you keep flirtin' with me?"

Sam felt himself flush slightly.

Why were Max's obvious jokes beginning to rub him the wrong way?

Suddenly, Max's ears began to twitch. Dropping the act, he hurriedly peered out from behind the mountain of discarded tires.

"She's comin' back!" he hissed.

Instinctively, Sam threw his arm around the rabbit as if shielding him from a bomb, and the two promptly ducked.

The putrid air of the city dump was suddenly made even worse, as the mucilaginous form of the twelve-foot garbage wench (or 'beldump,' as Max'd taken to calling her,) slithered by like a slug. She then paused, raising her misshapen head, as her divot-nostrils curiously flexed at the air.

Wordlessly, Sam threw both arms around Max, drawing him to his core as if suddenly desperate for a hug. Max, more than surprised, was thrown against his partner's chest like a ragdoll.

... His sensitive ears picked up the heavy hammer of Sam's distressed pulse, while the full weight of his heavy arms squeezed against Max's back...

Max, in spite of his best efforts, felt an odd warmth rise against his cheeks.

The beldump, with a disappointed sort of grumble, soon began to meander away.

Sam sighed, slowly loosening his grip on Max.

"... S-sorry..." he breathed, wiping at his forehead. "... I, uh... I had to hide your scent-"

"G-gee, Sam-!" Max broke in, smiling frantically. "... i-if ya wanted to cuddle, all ya had to do was ask!"

He laughed, though it was a far cry from his typical mischievous titter.

Sam's brow furrowed. "... Are you blushing?"

Max's ears shot up like corn stalks.

"... N-no!" he seethed, suddenly anxious to get away. "... It's... it's your stupid cologne! ... It's givin' me a rash!"

'Funny, considering I don't even WEAR cologne,' Sam was about to point out, when an idea suddenly came to mind. He quickly began to loosen his tie, before slipping off his jacket

Max's "rash" only worsened. "S-Sam, what're you- oof!"

Sam slapped his hat between Max's ears.

"This'll mask your smell." he said, affixing his loose-fitting tie to Max's throat. "Or, at the very least, it'll buy me some time to lure the beldump away."

He gently drew his jacket around Max's shoulders like a blanket, before plucking out a small tuft of fur. Max winced.

"Hey!"

"This should be adequate bait."

Gently holding the lock between his fingers, Sam stood up, and carefully surveyed the landscape.

"... Okay, lil' buddy. You just hunker down here 'till I get back."

Max's face suddenly dawned with distraught realization.

"... You're leaving me?"

Sam looked down. Underneath all that bulky clothing, Max suddenly appeared so much smaller. Any other time, that might've been amusing, but now...

It just broke Sam's heart.

"Only for a minute." Taking a knee, Sam offered his gentlest smile, in spite of Max stubbornly refusing to meet his eye. "Just long enough to draw her into the city."

Max, however, kept his eyes to the dirt, practically pouting.

Sam sighed. He knew what that expression meant. They'd made a unspoken agreement never to be separated for too long. Not after... well... everything that'd happened recently...

In a rare moment of tactile tenderness, Sam curled a finger beneath Max's chin, guiding his gaze upward.

"... I PROMISE I'll come back." he said softly, practically a whisper. Cupping it with a chuckle, he added, "After all, I got YOU to come back to, right?"

Max said nothing... He simply stared, as slack-jawed as a blind man seeing color for the first time.

... If this were a movie, the sacrificial hero might've planted a peck against his lover's forehead, either as reassurance, or goodbye.

But this wasn't a movie... And Max certainly wasn't his lover.

Compromising, Sam sweetly scratched at Max's drooped ear, before standing back up. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he made to run, when all at once, he felt Max scaling up the front of his shirt like an anxious reptile.

"Marry me." he said stoutly, looking positively fevered.

Sam scowled. He'd had his fill of cheap jokes for the evening. "... Max, c'mon, don't-"

"I'm not kidding," he croaked, his hands grasping at Sam's collar for support. "Please, Sam... marry me. Like... right now. I don't wanna be with anyone else. I don't think I CAN be with anyone else. Losing you the first time was..." he broke off, trails of tears and snot running down his face. "... Well, it sucked. Like, a lot." he finally choked. "... But the worst part was...  I finally realized just how crazy I was about you... But you were dead!"

He then began to laugh, but something in it made Sam cringe... It was a high, unsettling, hysterical laugh... Different from his usual variety, anyway.

There was no joy in it.

"Isn't that hilarious?" he continued. "And what's even funnier? ... I actually got a second chance to tell you how I felt... and I STILL chickened out! And now you're leaving me AGAIN, and... and..." he quickly dissolved into a fit of laughter and sobs, clinging to Sam's shirt with no intention of letting go.

... Needless to say, Sam was more than shocked... The same three shrieking words seemed to reverberate against his addled brain.

... How I felt... How I felt... How I felt...

... Funny. He wasn't nearly as shocked as one would think. If anything, Sam felt a kind of... serenity settle over him.

He'd known it, without knowing it...

... Max loved him... Max'd loved him for a good while now...

Of course he did... Of course he did! It was too damn obvious! It practically went without saying! And... and...

'... Holy hotpot party hosted by a Hostess Hoho...' thought Sam. '... I think I might love him back.'

"Officiate."

Max looked up, his face a mess of varying fluids. "... W... what?"

"You're a high priest, remember?"

Sam then flinched. Of course Max wouldn't remember, HE never experienced that.

".... N-no...?" he sniffled hesitantly. "... But I AM a registered minister, according to Nebraska."

Sam smiled, briefly relieved, before glancing around. Spotting a rubber band off to the side, he snatched it up, before twining it around the middle finger of Max's left hand.

"If you think I wouldn't want marry you, right here and now, you're even crazier than I thought."

Prying Max from his shirt, Sam set him down, and took both hands.

"Don't even bother asking anything," he said quickly, smiling a little. It was one of the few instances Max was ever lost for words. "You already know I do. I do a thousands times over, and twice on Sundays; never to anyone else but you."

"... D-ditto.." Max said at last, grinning incredulously. "... Th-then... I guess... b-by the power vested in me by the state of Nebraska, I now pronounce us-"

He didn't even have time to finish the sentence before he and Sam began to kiss.

It was the kiss of a thousand unsaid longings, the kiss of sweet, relinquished grief. It was cathartic, practically euphoric- 

~~

"- and the first of many to come." Sam concluded, beaming towards the wide-eyed faces of the Inventory regulars.

Ash huffed a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. "So you two professed your love, got engaged, and then married, all within the span of a few short minutes..."

"In the middle of a stinky landfill, no less!" Claptrap added.

"Just for the record-!" Max said quickly. "Sam was TOTALLY exaggerating my little proposal. I was doing doughnuts on a tricked-out motorcycle, and tossed him a ring made out of pure gold. It was the smoothest thing in the world, and I did NOT cry!"

"~Max's temperature seems to be rising at an alarming rate.~" GladOS's voice rolled out coolly. "~Perhaps he is suffering another rash outbreak?~"

The table broke into a bout of good-natured laughter, as Max folded his arms grumpily. He already knew he'd never hear the end of that...

"So whatever happened to the garbage monster?" Brock asked, still smiling.

"Oh, that-" Sam waved his hand dismissively. "That was easy. Using the scent of Max's hair, I lead her back to our office. Once there, she immediately fell in love with the trash congregating in our workspace, and took that as her husband rather than Max."

"They then moved to Detroit to live among their own kind!" Max sighed, fluttering his eyelids. "It was like the ending to a fairytale..."

"Yeah, that's... one way of putting it." Ash mumbled.

"And how long was it before ya decided to get re-married? Claptrap asked.

"Three days." Sam answered, leaning forward to dig through his pocket. Fishing out his wallet, he opened it up to reveal a small photo guarded by a sheet of plastic. "We knew we wanted our second wedding to be a lil' more formal, so we pulled out all the stops." he pointed towards the lavish church setting, as well as Max's uncharacteristically grandiose top hat and tux.

"... Nice dress," Brock remarked with a sneer.

"I know, I know..." Sam smiled sheepishly. "It's a little old-fashioned, but it belonged to my Granny, and she insisted on me wearing it."

"Plus, she n' Sam have the same cuddly corpulent build, so it was an easy fit!" Max chimed in. Sam, rolling his eyes, pushed him to the floor.

"Well-" Brock raised his glass. "Cheers to your divorce, I suppose."

"And may many more follow!" Ash said, joining the toast.

Claptrap, however, remained motionless.

"... Does it bother anyone that the six of us guys just spent the last half-hour discussing marriage and weddings like an old sewing-circle?"

The table traded looks.

"Not really."

"No."

"Not even remotely!"

"'Course not."

"... Alright, just checking!" Claptrap held up his sippy-cup. "To Sam and Max!"

"To Sam and Max!"

~~

"Ya know-" Sam said, as he and Max barreled along their the long stretch of their familiar street. It was a perfect night for reckless driving. "We oughta invite our poker buddies to our next wedding."

"Oh, HELL yeah!" Max said, nodding vigorously. "It wouldn't be a dream wedding without 'em! Ooh-!" he grabbed at Sam's arm, nearly swerving the Desoto into an oncoming truck. Sam pivoted back almost at once, heart thudding, but smiling all the same.

"Think we could get GladOS to sing at our reception?" Max bobbed excitedly against his seat. "I would, and CAN, kill for her to do Nat King Cole!"

"We'll havta ask next time we see her, buddy." Sam chuckled, sparing a hand to pet at Max's head. "Though, personally, I wouldn't mind meetin' some of YOUR old card sharks... 'Specially that wrestler fellow, uh... What was his name?" Sam snapped his fingers rhythmically. "String bean?"

"Strong Bad. But PLEASE, call him String Bean once you finally get to meet him!" Max giggled. "I have GOT to see how that goes down."

Sharply rounding a corner, the two finally skidded their car into its usual spot, halfway hunched atop the curb adjacent to their building.

Making their way up the stairs, they soon found themselves in the comfortable chaos of their office. (Naturally, it didn't them long to re-accumulate all the garbage swept away by the beldump.)

"Well, that depends-" Max shrugged, as he and Sam crossed into one of the more residential rooms. Flopping down onto the patchwork couch, Max made an immediate snag for the remote. "When're you gonna propose already?"

"Guess I'm just waiting for the right occasion. Timing is everything, ya know. Here, scooch over."

With a sigh, Sam helped himself to a seat beside Max, and the two finally settled on something to watch.

"Ooh! Robot Terror From Beyond the Galaxy!" Max curled up against Sam's leg, and Sam, smiling contentedly, rested a hand to his back.

"Hope we haven't missed too much."

"Nah," Max shook his head. "We haven't even gotten to the marrow-suckers yet."

Sam nodded, and then glanced over. His partner's eyes were beginning to droop, and Sam wondered whether or not Max was about to fall asleep.

"... Hey, Max-" Sam whispered, lightly jostling the lagomorph's head. "... You wanna get married?"

Max chuckled, tucking his hands beneath his head as his eyes closed in full.

"... Well, DUH, Sam... A thousand-" he cut himself off with a yawn. "... A thousand times over, and twice on Sundays..."

Sam, with a warm smile, leaned over, planting a soft kiss to Max's forehead.

"You're the light of my life, lil' buddy."

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of March 27th, 2019

Best of this Week: Detective Comics #1000 - Various Writers and Artists

Possibly more controversial than I'm thinking it'll be, I'm glad Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo did the job of reintroducing Slam Bradley into the DC Universe. Slam Bradley, of course the way I choose to remember him, was one of DC's first characters and the precursor design to modern day Superman. He was a 1930s dick (detective in this case) who made his name in infamy with racist depictions of Chinese people being swung by their braids with toothy grins. He's likely the reason DC won't reprint some of the early Detective Comics works in a compendium.

This is without a doubt, a great celebration for one of the greatest comic book characters of all time, if not THE greatest. The difficulty in reviewing something like this, much like Action Comics #1000 (if I reviewed that one, I don't remember) is that so many stories have their ups and downs, hits or misses and there's so much ground. But some of these were so good that this book is getting an entry all on it's own this week.

He's been made better in recent years with a badass run as a side character in Ed Brubaker and Darwyn Cooke's Catwoman (2001) as a cool former police officer with a son by the name of Slam Jr. on the force. He was probably some of the best parts of his short time there and was very compelling in interactions with Selina.

Kevin Smith and Jim Lee have arguably done some of the best and WORST Batman projects ever, but through the good and the bad, both have immense talent and their tale “Manufacture for Use” added a beautiful layer to the significance of the metal plate that his emblem is made out of.

The book is simple enough, a montage of Batman fighting his greatest villains shows in the background while his alter ego, Matches Malone, has a conversation with a merchant peddling in the various pieces of gear left by villains. He has Harley hammers, crazy quilts and even freeze guns, but there's only one weapon Malone is interested in; The Gun belonging to Joe Chill. The weapon that killed The Wayne Family.

He and others had been leaving Batman clues since his first days as a hero to have him join a guild of detectives, solving unsolvable or very difficult cases and knowing that Slam is one of the detectives along with Hawkman, Hawkgirl, Martian Manhunter, The Question, Detective Chimp, Elongated Man and his wife, Sue Dibny is relieving and fantastic.

I'm glad DC hasn't shied away from him given his past history. Even his inclusion in Superman of China based on his former character, warts and all, seemed like DC was kinda ashamed of it, but here he is, as awesome as he was later in life!

Upon seeing it, Alfred questions why Bruce would keep it as a trophy, nothing the ridiculousness of The Penny and the Dinosaur, he sees the gun as strange or even perverse. Batman, however, wishes to never see it cause anyone pain again, melting and forming it into an oval adorned with the symbol of a Bat.

Batman has dedicated his life to stopping crime in Gotham at all costs, but not everyone see his methods as being right or just. Doctor Leslie Thompkins has been looking over Bruce since his parent’s murder and oped that he would take his pain and do something productive with it, actually fix Gotham, but instead she sees how vengeance has consumed him, turning him into something of a violent monster himself and she’s not wrong. They meet each other on the anniversary of his parent’s murder in Crime Alley and are beset upon by a group of teenagers whom Batman viciously slaps the hell out of. Dr. Thompkins stops him out of fear and Batman looks like the real villain here.

If that isn't chilling...

Brian Michael Bendis is a GREAT Batman writer. Checking out his 15 pages in the Batman Walmart 100 Page Giants, much like Daredevil, Batman is a character that is PERFECT for him. “I Know” drawn by frequent Bendis collaborator, Alex Maleev, is amazing. Penguin started becoming disillusioned with the meetings put together by villains like The Joker on how to finally get rid of The Batman, Penguin begins to muse about who had the money to fund Batman. I believe he proposed the idea to the others, but they all shot him down, citing times Batman showed up when Bruce was a hostage or how he “blubbered like a baby.”

Penguin didn’t let it go, however, and prepared Suicide Bomb Penguins to attack Wayne Manor while Bruce was hosting a ton of high profile Gothamites. It would have been the end of Bruce Wayne.

Warren Ellis writes some very character driven stories, but when he has to get technical, he is a master as good as any. In “The Batman’s Design” he goes over Batman’s methodology when taking on criminals, treating things like a chess game that he’s already won. He leads the criminals to a trap and plays them like a fiddle, setting off an explosion that knock out or send some flying, determining a sniper’s location and just being so terrifying that the leader just hands him a bomb switch before his ass gets destroyed.

Becky Cloonan does a great job of alternating between cool and warm tones for when Batman is in the shadows vs contending with explosions he’s setting off. Batman looks slim, but imposing regardless. This is definitely some of her best art so far!

Now… if you ask any of my friends from when I was in The Navy, they’ll tell you about how I waited in line for Batman: The Arkham Knight. I was excited. I was elated. The conclusion to an amazing trilogy of games that shaped a newfound love for the character for me! And it bloody sucked. I HATE Arkham Knight with a passion. If it’s not The Batmobile, it’s the Joker, if not the Joker, it’s the Knight himself, if not him, then Scarecrow as the shitty final villain.

I really loved the noir tone that was set by Elizabeth Breitweiser’s colors over Steve Epting’s art. Things are very dark and cool. Batman is shrouded in shadow and Doctor Thompkins acts as a small light by comparison. There is great contrast when action happens with warm tones as Batman slaps the teens and Batman standing in the shadows as Leslie and the kids are under the one light is powerful.

Suffice to say, I was not pleased when it was said that The Arkham Knight would finally be appearing in comics different than his video game counterpart, but… I dunno, I kinda like him here.

His characterization seems to be that of someone who has lived in Gotham and has seen Batman’s methods of treating the poor citizens, the weak and the sick. He sees Batman as a cancer, a darkness that needs to be exterminated for Gotham to truly thrive. The best thing, there’s precedent for this kind of character.

One of the first few arcs for Detective Comics involved a cool set of villains known as The Victim Syndicate, people who have been hurt or grievously injured in Batman’s relentless pursuit of crime. These guys put Batman’s team through the ringer, almost turning Stephanie Brown against him completely as Tim Drake had been presumed dead at the time. Another casualty of war. If I remember right, The First Victim noted that there was someone or something coming for Batman soon and if that’s the Arkham KNight, then I am excited.

The Victim Syndicate was one of James Tynion IV’s best ideas during his run and I really hope whoever the creative team is for Detective Comics thus forth lives up to the quality. Peter J. Tomasi and Doug Mahnke are both amazing, so I have high hopes if its them.

But Penguin had an epiphany. Ending Bruce Wayne would not end Batman. Batman would become focused. Driven. Possibly to the point of killing. Bruce Wayne is the only thing keeping these villains alive, so Penguin relents and never reveals what he believes he knows, until years later when Bruce is old and mute… but who says that Bruce has lost a step? He zaps Penguin who is taken away as Bruce tells him that he knew, pretty much calling him a “coward ass bitch” as he’s taken away.

Overall, while there were few misses, this collection of stories had great ideas, great characterization, heart and was just fantastic. Looking forward to another 80 years!

This one was just cute. The Batfamily interacts with each other and take a FANTASTIC family photo drawn by Tony S. Daniel. Starring, Batman, Alfred, Nightwing, Batgirl, “Robin” Damian Wayne, Red Hood, Batwoman, Catwoman, “(Red) Robin” Tim Drake, Spoiler, The Signal, Cassandra Cain Ace the Bathound and Huntress. It’s a well put together double splash page and everyone, even Bruce seems happy.

[cutenessinanutshell]

I don’t know what I’m going through but I’m calling it my quarter life crisis.   I’m going through the motions. I wake up and I wish I could stay in bed but ultimately, I make it out.  I am aware that there are sad days and there are less sad days. Yesterday was good because my hair.  It makes me wanna modify so much more. I’ve literally always wanted the hair i have now. I still want it to be whiter so this is gonna be a long journey but we’ll see. 

Also he texted me today. IDK if he actually thinks this but i think he thinks his number is blocked in my phone. Why would he think that? Why would he think that i would block his number?? He’s still my boyfriend. We never had a conversation stating otherwise. I’m just afraid of him right now because I’m not okay in my head. I’m realizing a lot of things about myself that I need to deal with and I am quite literally, my worst enemy right now, one I can’t run away from. I just don’t think he deserves to have to put up with all these wild epiphanies and regrets. 

My therapist thinks that i need to “reframe the thoughts attached to having any kind of conversation” with him. She asked me what it would take to make me feel like I was enough for a partner and for myself. I haven’t figured it out yet so its my homework. I dunno, I’ve barely given it thought and already all I can think is “great. I’m needy.” I need so fucking much. 

On another note though, let me tell you this weird thing that happened today.

So I was getting ready for work and I decided to look nice-ish today cuz hair. Then my mind just had like a weird sex thought for a second and my body just like... immediately reacted? Okay weird... ignore. But then at work I was daydreaming. Not about anything in particular. Actually... yeah I was daydreaming about myself. I was with someone but in my head i was that person. I was literally sitting there daydreaming about my own sex faces.  I want to be able to have an orgasm because someone so bad. Here’s an aside

But thinking about me cumming makes me feel uncomfortable now. It sounds like guilt. Even though, I’ve never done it with anyone. I think there might’ve been one time with him in our first year of dating. I remember when it happened. It was with his hands. Can you imagine only having an orgasm by someone else once? This is something I’ve never really shared with anyone but sex has never really felt phenomenal for me. I decided a long time ago that my body is broken with other people.  I’ve known that for a long long time. Like... it feels like something. Honestly, it’s kind of the adrenaline and the fact that so much is happening that makes sex a thing for me. I think I’m an emotional person.  Like there are certain times where yes, it feels good. But never good that I can just cum from it. Maybe if it hit right, but i feel like they’d need to just keep doing the same thing for an extended period of time and who knows if that thing is a tiring position ya know?   I don’t ever expect to cum with someone. Yes, it is sad. No, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I am the only one who can do it to me.  Another reason I feel inadequate.  Plus this whole topic has everything to do with what happened a long time ago so I guess I literally just talked myself into yet another epiphany. holy fucking christ that makes so much sense but it also makes me so fucking sad for myself. ugh. I can’t even tell him why because I’ve never told him before. 

I was phsiologically reacting to myself and then for a while the thought of him turned me on. I started rationalize texting him. Or calling him to have sex with him. I started going over how I was gonna text him, I factored in what time I’d get there, when he goes to bed and how long it’d take me to drive back home.  I thought about it all. I wanted it so bad. At the same time I knew I didn’t want it at all. 

PAUSE. 

Fuck i started overthinking and now im spiralling in my head. Fuck fuck fuck..

ugh. im so fucked dude. It was probably a good idea not calling him. I’d confuse the fuck out of him. Plus then I’d have to see him and again, I just can’t. And also how if i cant get naked for myself do I even think I could feel good about getting naked with someone else?

Maybe tomorrow I won’t be horny. I hope so. I don’t want to feel like that. I don’t want to have sex with any man, at all. 

He texted me and he said “i just want you so badly. I miss everything about you.”  I wonder if that was a “Im horny” I want you or if it was a romantic one. I can’t tell. I was horny today... so my answer would’ve been acknowledging the first one.  Seems like a general text though, he could’ve literally just said it to any other person and I’d never know the difference. Like if you’re horny enough just copy and paste and whoever responds is the winner? I don’t know. I had to tell three guys I couldn’t talk to them anymore last week. That text could apply to them if I wanted it to. Whatever, he thinks I blocked him so it doesn’t even matter. 

See? Spiralling. 

Imagine losing the love of your life because you are the most insecure and needy and overly sensitive human trash that ever existed. Who could ever love someone this complicated, physically and mentally? I need so much. I’m literally hard as fuck to love. Idk why you’d stay after everything ive done.  stupid. 

My business partner was talking today about how sex is one of her love languages and it’s interesting because I never thought of sex as part of that. But it is. And maybe it’s one of mine and that’s maybe why I wanted more for myself??? Cuz I wasn’t getting enough with my boyfriend so I was looking for it else where? Could that be true?? Maybe it’s higher on the scale of what’s important to me in a relationship.

I do love cuddling and being romantic and sweet little kisses. But when it’s sex, I like that intensity of “wow I love you so fucking much and I want to fuck you so good because of how much I love you.” And it’s just that intense... thing. It’s so magical. I miss his dark intense eyes.... and how his hair feels when it’s laced between my fingers. I miss the way he looks when he’s looking down at me and his mouth is just slightly hung open and his hair flops down his face. When he loves me he is the most sexy. I want to give him everything when he loves on me.

[theklancecollection]

Klance May Reads (May 1st, 2017 - May 31st, 2017)

Below the cut are 113 fics that I have read this month.

I was planning on doing monthly updates but clearly this is too long. So I will be sticking with weekly updates instead.

I will put up a separate recommendations page tomorrow.

three minutes to closing - Yuisaki

“So you don’t know his name,” Pidge says slowly. “And he says meme-y things. And he always comes in three minutes before closing, and—”

“Always leaves on the dot,” Keith adds. “And uh, he never orders the same thing twice in a row.”

Pidge’s face is blank. “A customer who leaves at nine on the dot and never orders the same thing twice in a row,” she repeats. She opens her mouth, closes it, and taps at the screen of her tablet, hopping off the counter. “I’ll just tell everyone I didn’t get the answer out of you.”

“Pidge,” Keith protests. “I mean it.”

“And I think you have a cryptid customer,” Pidge says.

(or: eccentricities in a small coffee shop where a cuban boy with cute dimples only exists three minutes to closing.)

you had me at merlot - ryomakun

“Oh my God,” Lance says as he covers his face. Keith’s tinny voice blares from his laptop speakers: “What do you call a fake noodle? An impasta.” See, this joke might have been funny if someone charismatic and charming had said it, but Keith’s flat voice and even flatter expression effectively kidnaps, tortures, and then decapitates any chance of it being remotely humorous.

--

Keith accidentally starts a YouTube channel. Lance, of course, refuses to be left out. It goes about as well as you'd expect. (Ft. copious amounts of wine and a truly shameless number of references to MyDrunkKitchen, DailyGrace, and general pop culture)

Ascension - Gigapoodle

Four times where Lance feels insecure, and one time where Keith has had enough.

My Play Toy - Mackenzie_Kogane_McClain

Lotor is in his brain. The binds are too strong and everyone's watching him strain. Secrets are out. His heart is gone.

The Desert is a Thirsty Motherfucker - Graceless_Grace

The paladins get stuck on a desert planet and Lance, being the self-sacrificing idiot he is, gives away his water, sip by sip. Consequences suck, don't they? Even with the best intentions, the desert still suck the life out of Lance.

McDonald's Anyone? - AnimeROL

It started as most things seem to with us: a challenge and a scheme. I mean, who hasn’t ever dreamed of motorizing a shopping cart to take through McDonald’s drive thru at 2am?

Lance Gets Hot And Horny And Boy Does Keith Notice - TasteTheRainbow_BeTheRainbow

The team is put into a situation as if they were being attacked by the Galra. And honestly, they flunked it. So Allura calls a meeting but Lance is otherwise distracted by a certain Omega bodily process. He tries to leave undetected but Keith is a little more observant than others.

supermassive black hole - epiproctan

Keith has always known that he wasn’t going to get what he truly wants out of the arrangement, but he also hadn’t ever imagined that it would just…end.

aka that classic fic where lance wants to stop hooking up but keith wants something else entirely

i forgive you - willobean

"i forgive you"

Such happy memories tied to those three words before the fateful day where everything came crashing down around Keith like a tsunami.

the potential of you and me - Katranga

“And then other times,” Lance said. “I’m just, like, dying to know what a mouth would feel like around my dick.” Keith choked on air and said, with absolutely no go-ahead from his brain, “I have a mouth.” Half-laughing, Lance said, “Is that an offer?” He pushed his wet hair out of his eyes. His throat was dry. “Is that an acceptance?” -- The summer after freshman year of college, Lance drags Keith back to their hometown to hang out. But the two of them rarely spend time together without Hunk and Pidge around, because things had a way of getting out of hand real quick. This summer is... no different.

spin and twist - checkmateslash

“I think Keith is into you. He started blushing when Pidge and I brought up you giving him a lap dance.”

Lance flushed then, because they had been talking about Lance while he wasn’t there and it was about something he hardly remembered.

“I don’t even remember that, Hunk,” he grumbled, though his face was hot and he knew it was no use.

“You could see his boner through his jeans.”

“Can you stop?”

Lance thought about that conversation a lot. He thought about it every time he ran into Keith at the gym, remembers the conversation being too casual as he fiddled with his messy hair and pretended not to be flustered when Keith mentioned that they needed to hang out more. Remembered wishing he were brave enough to ask Keith out so he could either get rejected and get over it or start something. Remembered trying desperately not to blush when Keith came down to the lower level of the gym and asked Lance to hold his feet while he did sit-ups. Tried hard not to remember the lap dance while he was doing so, but even consciously trying not to think about it was still thinking about it.

Isn't this what you wanted? - Cutekittenlady

After a failed rescue attempt, Keith and Lance are subjucated to the will of their captor.

Love Bites and Banter - inkbadger

They just can't help but banter during sex- it's who they are.

Of course, some days Lance definitely regrets teaching Keith the subtle arts of sarcasm.

wrong in the dark - fickleauthor

All his life, Lance has been groomed to be one half of a bridge between two alien races — a merging of families that will bring about an end to a bitter centuries-old feud. He’s carried this weight upon his shoulders with a grace he feels he can and should be proud of, considering he never asked for such a heavy responsibility. He never asked for his life to be mapped out in such bold, rigid lines that stretch into a future he can see all too clearly: when he reaches maturity, he’ll be bound to the Crown Prince of the Galra empire for the rest of their lives.

And so he lets himself be swept away by the tides of fate — save for for one night, the night before the bonding ceremony, when he sneaks out and has an encounter with a stranger that threatens to upend him from the path he was meant to walk.

blame it on patron - pastelshan

One smack of his lips, and Keith felt his mouth fill with cotton. Tongues weren’t supposed to feel like that, were they? All heavy and gross. He scowled, sending a sideways, drunk glance Lance’s way. Did his feel like this?

Was there really only one way to find out?

Stupid Hair, Stupid Coffee - shaqfu

The only way to cope with midterms was coffee and maybe being mean to your beautiful barista.

That One Time You Saw Me Dancing In My Underwear - Quiznak

Lance's mysterious neighbor plays his music too loud so he tries to get revenge.

Then Who's Flying the Lion? - senpai_desu_desu

Shiro suggests Keith gives Lance a few pointers when piloting his lion, and he obliges, much to Lance's dismay... or delight? Not even Lance knows.

Kiss Me If You Want Me - Barkour

Lance has an epiphany and Keith makes a confession. Also, they fuck.

hypothetically - starsupernova

Keith wonders how he fell in love with someone like this. He’d never really been into anyone in his life until he met Lance in freshman year. Sure, it had started off as a rivalry, mostly through the baseball team, but Keith had slowly grown to appreciate Lance, in both the looks and personality departments.

And it’s not like the attraction is decreasing now that their junior years have just ended. In fact, it’s even stronger than before.

The first time Keith ever falls in love, it's with someone practically unobtainable. Typical.

The Jacket - shark_meat

Lance find's Keith after a long training session and shows a touch of kindness towards his "rival." It seems to backfire once the teasing starts, but maybe Keith will reciprocate the kindness after-all.

Somewhere On A Beach - smilemylove

Lance comes to Keith expressing feelings of missing Team Voltron, so Keith offers to take him out on a ride to help get his mind off things. Along the way, the two come to realize that maybe Lance wasn't being entirely honest with his feelings.

Bonding - Quiznak  

Lance and Keith bond.

I got my ship stolen, my dignity taken, and what do I have to show for it? - noumenon

“Looks like you hit on the wrong person, huh, Lance?” Keith chuckled.

“Could you stop being a jerk for I dunno, five seconds and just help me out here?" Lance snapped. "This isn’t nearly as much fun without a hot girl with me. I mean seriously! I’m chained up, Blue got stolen, and worst of all I didn’t even kiss out of all this!”

bench press me - eggboi

“The hell are you doing?” Keith grumbles out, body mid-push up. There’s a snicker behind him, too close to his ears, though Keith can’t really understand what would be so amusing about this. Then again, he’s not really sure why Lance is lying on him while he’s doing push ups either. Other than to be, of course, annoying.

“Nothing.” Lance finally says. Keith hears the grin in his voice, which only proves to irritate him a little more. ‘Nothing’ his ass. “Continue with what you’re doing, Mr. ‘I’m-Too-Good-For-Socialization’.”

(Lance, as always, tries to annoy Keith by making his exercise harder. It doesn’t work. At all.)

Miscommunication and failures - Lance by mikuridaigo

tumblr prompt: does the “i slept with you the other day and i didnt know we had a mutual friend and now we’re sitting across each other for brunch and it’s awkward because i ran out when you were asleep” au exist bc i need that fic

When Hunk called the Sunday before the spring quarter began, asking if he wanted to grab brunch with him, Lance said yes; and when Hunk called again, saying that his friend was joining at the last second, Lance didn’t think anything of it.

Until said friend was the best sex he’s ever had.

Basically Lance is a screw up and fixing this mess was probably going to kill him

Disatrophe (I like it rough) by mikuridaigo

“Is this how you usually pick up guys?”

“No, I start with a great opener. Like,” Lance pointed his fingers like a gun, “‘hey, you a magician? Because when I look at you, everyone else disappears’.”

A companion piece to Miscommunication and failures by Lance with Keith's perspective to how he and Lance slept together that night.

Translation, Please by mochimistress

Keith had no idea what Lance was saying, but he was going to find out.

a change of space by Crawlingthroughashes

"I don't want to kiss you," Lance announces quickly, color rising high on his cheeks. "Ok." "I don't." Keith holds his hands up. "Ok." Stupid Keith.

Change of Pace by needchocolatenow

It was supposed to be an easy mission: a Galra base that was, for all intents and purposes, abandoned on a primitive planet. Get in, download the base's info logs, get out. Simple.

Of course, when Lance realized he was going to be put together with Keith on this mission, simple went out the window.

thread our way through a string of stars - steelthighsvoideyes

Lance is a humble astrophysics student trying to conduct research, which turns out to be a bit difficult to do when he finds a strange guy sitting in his customary research spot. A strange guy looking for aliens, no less.

Lance isn't going to stand for this.

One Cup Of Jealousy, Please - UnheardCries

Lance and Keith are two best friend dorks, but when Lance decides to go get coffee at a new cafe that opened, with his best friend, he may realize two emotions he never thought he would feel towards his best friend, love and jealousy.

Blue - princevince

He'd always taken the presence of the color blue for granted. He wished he hadn't. God, he wished he hadn't.

Like Ice Over Fire - CuriousRebel

Lance gets himself into a spot of trouble (against orders) and Keith comes to save him (against orders).

you mark everything i do - steelthighsvoideyes

Some people do ridiculous things when they're in love, like trip over nothing and faceplant into the pie they're holding, or get tattoos of each other's names in tacky hearts on their arms.

Lance and Keith get each other's paladin symbols tattooed over their hearts.

bouncing off exit signs - steelthighsvoideyes

This is the story of two absolute idiots who keep searching for what they've already found.

Cheeky - rideahorse

Keith pinches his eyes shut, slamming the book down again and swiveling to face Lance. “Oh my god,” he groans, standing up and crossing the two feet between them before Lance can get out a word. He grabs Lance’s face between his hands (perhaps a bit rougher than needed, but hey, he’s always wanted to slap Lance’s stupid face) and the last thing he sees is an expression of pure surprise before he leans down and presses his lips against Lance's.

It’s a peck, and it lasts a second, and then it’s over. Keith leans back, releasing Lance’s face, and hisses, “There.”

All The Stars In The Universe - jamwrites

After being rescued from capture by the Galra Empire, Lance isn't the same. He's silent. Reserved. Broken. But Keith won't accept this; every night, he comes to talk to Lance. Every night, he attempts to fix what is broken, and tonight may be his last chance.

(based off (with permission) an idea by legendarydragondefender and khlance on tumblr.)

An A+ For Trying - sailingskies

Keith and Lance stumble around with their almost painfully obvious feelings, and Pidge and Hunk are forced to watch the impending spectacle that unfolds.

and i'll keep you a daydream away - maradyer (ashtxns)

“He’s killing me,” Lance groans, head in his hands. 

And Then It Hit Him - princevince

Team Voltron is back together after being separated in the wormhole. They all learned a lot about themselves. About each other. Some...more than others. It's hard to take it all in, even after time has passed. But you don't always have to take it all alone.

breathless - zxrysky

"You shouldn't go out to the sea at night," their grandmother says. She's in a rocking chair, old and creaky, her withered body settled with a shawl around her shoulders, wrinkled fingers gripping the edges of the arm rest. "Don't risk it."

"Risk what?" Shiro asks, eyes wide. He's fourteen, just a young boy, on the cusp of maturity, arms wrapped around his younger brother as they sit before their grandmother.

His grandmother pauses for a while. "There is danger in the sea."

Dorks - GriffinRose

Inspired by a post on Tumblr!

Lance is the only one listening to the current presentation, and oh boy is it something to listen to. The kid has been rambling on about aliens for ten minutes and he is trying so hard not to laugh. So hard. Turns out the kid didn't even think Lance was paying attention, so when he finds out Lance was he books it. Like, as fast it takes Lance to turn his head, that kid was gone.

Keith wants to die. The Hot Guy in his bio class was actually listening to him talk about aliens. That's it. He's done. Kill him now.

Poor Shiro is just trying to keep his little brother sane.

don't wanna be free - VickyVicarious

In which Lance gives compliments (but not really), and Keith has lots of feelings but zero impulse control.

Eyes Over Here, Mister - amillionsmiles

Despite what his track record might look like, Lance understands girls, okay? Keith has Bad Boy written all over him—the dude sleeps with a knife, for Pete’s sake, and seems partial to black T-shirts when he isn’t in the Garrison uniform. Throw in a guardedness that could pass off as “mysterious” and a pair of dark eyes that could turn soulful in the right lighting and also if you could, like, get the guy to even look at you in the first place—

“Do you think I could work a mullet?” Lance asks Hunk.

“Absolutely not.”

OR: four times Keith completely ignored Lance, and one time he didn't.

Fading - Graceless_Grace

College!AU Klance; Keith doesn’t love the idea of asking for help when he’s sick. So, when he starts to feel a fever coming on, he does what he always does, while fading in and out.

Flames of Ice - linkami1379

"Finding out he was bisexual wasn’t a friendly experience. Solution? Be as girl-oriented as possible, use spare time to make clever comebacks and rely on sarcasm to save the day. At least that was what Lance figured would work at age eleven."

Boys finding their way in the big, wide universe.

Hank-y Pank-y - Methoxyethane

“You act,” Lance scoffed dramatically, “like I wanna make out with him or something.”

head to head, neck and neck, side by side - kushling

Lance and Keith both like sparring, Avatar, and each other. They have a hard time admitting it. Pidge makes fun of them. Space swords!!!

hey, keith? - furrykeith

Lance vents his feelings to a sleeping Keith.

Or so he thinks.

if it takes two - velvetcrowbars

After the Sendak attack, Keith and Lance deal with unresolved things. Whatever those might be.

“Keith?”

“What?” He finally says, safely slipping the piece over Lance’s head with minimal knocking against his temple. He sets the discarded parts on the floor next to the bed.

“I have a confession.”

it's quite bizarre, and will remain this way - mayerwien

FROM THE DESK OF ALLURA ALTEA Director The Rex Alfor Memorial Space Museum

Dear Mr. Coran,

I am writing to entrust to you the care and supervision of the young man who will be working with our custodial team starting this coming Tuesday. The young man’s name, as I’m sure you already know, is Keith.

As you also have been made aware, the incident that occurred two weeks ago was his first criminal offense, and thus I have elected not to press charges against him, in the hope that a little community service and a few kind words will go a long way.

Please see to it that our new volunteer gets a basic but thorough introduction as to what it is we do here at RAMSM. Unless any more untoward situations arise, there is no need to report to me further. I trust your good judgment, as I always have.

(Additionally, I would like to commend you for successfully managing to keep this story out of the press. Your service to the museum over the years has gone above and beyond your job description. We will have to talk about this very soon. When are you free for coffee?)

never been kissed - kairiolette

“You give off the obnoxious popular vibe. The mullet, and the rap sheet, and—the fingerless gloves,” Lance replies, and barrels on before Keith can take it the wrong way. “I’m so handsome, my name’s Keith and I’m a pilot.”

“That sounds more like a compliment than an insult,” Keith says slowly, a disdainful quirk to his eyebrows that only spurs Lance on. He tilts his head a bit, his bangs shadowing his face, like he’s assessing a particularly impossible physics problem. “And I don’t like that voice you’re using.”

No Room For Secrets - Crawlingthroughashes

Keith thought he and Lance had reached a bit of an understanding the night Lance was injured. He should have realized that Lance had a monopoly on being the most obnoxious, petty brat in the galaxy.

Or, Shiro forces the two to engage in more team bonding exercises as a means to put an end to their bickering, but a lot more than bonding occurs. 

Nightmares - Trashness

Lance's nightmares are getting out of control. It's effecting his and the team's performance, but he's at a loss for how to fix this.

Apparently sleeping next to a warm body helps.

Put Your Hands On Me - crystallineflowers

Lance and Keith get back from a diplomatic mission, and Lance just can't keep his hands to himself. I mean, can anyone blame him? His boyfriend is super hot, after all.

pepsicola - corydalis

It starts like this: Lance looking up at the scoreboard only a few days into his Garrison training and muttering to himself, “What the hell kind of a name is Keith?”

-- Or, Keith and Lance fall in love. Eventually. DAY 2: love // hate

scattered stars - Crawlingthroughashes

Lance wore his heart on his threadbare sleeve, visible for the perusal of wandering eyes.

Keith, on the other hand, kept his heart carefully concealed beneath skin that was stretched too tight and bones that felt too heavy for his body.

Show Me - saffronskies

Show me that you're human, show me that you won't break

Lance tries to be selfless for Keith, and sometimes it gets a little too hard for them both.

TW: Depression/Dealing with depression. Mention of suicide attempt.

Since We Might Die - Velazyraptor

Lance and Keith are on a mission on a forest planet and they run into a horrible monster. Lance thinks this is his last chance to confess.

It's rated T because of cursing.

sleep - orphan_account

“You’re annoying,” he kindly informed Lance. The other paladin just let out a loud snore in response. “I guess you’re also a little cute too,” Keith felt his cheeks warm up a little as he admitted it out loud, reaching over to turn out the lights.

In which Keith and Lance get cuddly and cheesy.

somewhere i have never travelled - songs

In an oddly tepid motion, Lance brushes the tip of his finger along Keith’s pulse-line. He says, “I can feel your heartbeat, here.” He takes Keith’s thumb, then, and presses it to his own wrist. “And you can feel mine. We’re the same, you dumbass. Me and you. You and everyone here. You’re fine. Wherever you want to go— it’s fine.”

steal the air from my lungs - zxrysky

“Read the news,” his grandma told him with something sad in her eyes, and passed him the newspapers lying on the table. She lifted him on her lap and turned the page, flipped through the black and white words until it landed on a picture of the ocean, wide and blue, stretching out far into the horizon.

“Missing people at sea,” Lance read out dutifully, and his eyes grew big. “They don’t come back?” He asked in a small voice. He couldn’t imagine- he couldn’t imagine just leaving. He couldn’t imagine going missing. He thought of James, barely two, holding on to Lance’s hands as he toddled along the ground, and shuddered.

“They don't, baby. These missing people at sea, they don’t ever come back.” His grandma looked old and tired, and Lance abruptly thought of his granddad, lost at sea long before Lance came into the world, and all that was left was this huge house.

sweet like honeysuckle late at night - starspecters

“Hey,” Lance says indignantly, poking his finger into the hard Velcro of Pidge’s binder. “Jesus loves me.”

“I don’t know why he would.”

--

Lance would like to blame the heat, but really, he knows where responsibility and blame should be placed -- namely, in the entire food group of alien peaches.

Things Held Sacred - yarrie

So maybe, just maybe, Pidge was right. Maybe, just maybe, Keith had shot himself in the foot with his first attempt at resolving the blanket-hogging situation, because now Lance seemed to think it was a game and the rules were: steal the blankets, get sex.

To be fair, Keith hadn't exactly been...dissuading him very well.

three words, and i'm yours - Dreamicide

To help things along with finding ones soulmate, the first words spoken to one another are written on their wrists.

So when Lance sees 'You're under arrest' on his skin, he decides to try and find his soulmate as fast as he can.

He gets arrested.

A lot.

Through Time and Space - Hidden_Pineapple

Prompt: -We all know Lance is homesick. But what happens when Pidge figures out how to make an accurate calendar of earth? Lance realizes just how much he’s missed. And even then, its only the tip of the iceberg. (...)

What happens when you write too long past midnight.

We'll Be Counting Stars - southspinner

Keith's just trying to navigate the collegiate mine-field of tests, social circles, and sleep-deprivation while still maintaining a fragile grip on his sanity. The last thing he needs is some snapback-clad fraternity president making him re-evaluate his entire existence, but of course, because the universe hates him, that's exactly what he gets.

Weight of the World - Zurela

Lance hasn't been sleeping very well. He does a good job of handling that, really.

Keith disagrees.

with quiet words I'll lead you in - strikinglight

“You were screaming,” Keith tells him. “I heard you through the wall.”

That wall, Lance wants to point out, is supposed to be soundproof. It shouldn’t let you hear anything, no matter how hard you listen. What he says instead is “I can’t breathe.”

“Take it slow.” Keith’s voice is steady, but as Lance’s eyes struggle to focus his face is a blur. The image goes shaky and then comes clear, shaky then clear, like looking into water. “Pretend it’s low tide. Tell me about the ocean again.”

heard a noise - scriveyner (trismegistus)

“So,” Hunk said, standing in the threshold of the doorway to the bridge. “Not for nothing, because I thought someone should know about it before they break something else, but I’m pretty sure that Lance and Keith broke the training room. Again.”

cradle you - TheMintPen

“So…bad day?”

Keith let out a snort as he mumbled into Lance’s chest, “That’s an understatement.”

Dialing... - AnnSmith

prompt: i call the wrong number and declare my love to you, and hang up before you can explain.

His voice sounded a bit more deep that how it normally was, but he supposed it was the sleep. After all, it was pretty late for a call. But he had to let him know. it was the most important thing at the moment.

Lance calls the wrong guy, and he fucks up.

one sky, one destiny - theatrythms

Lance misses home. Keith's home has been lost to the darkness for ten years. Kingdom Hearts Au.

crushing - orphan_account

“Thanks,” Lance awkwardly cleared his throat, all too aware of Keith’s unwavering gaze on him, “for staying, I mean.”

“Yeah,” a smile slowly spread on Keith’s face. “We’re a team, after all.”

(In which Lance gets homesick and Keith is apparently nocturnal.)

A Curiosity - BlueRoboKitty

"There’s only one way Lance can salvage his reputation, and that is to turn his intentions into something else entirely." 

Cookies - Quiznak

Lance gives Keith cookies.

Don't Hate Me - wolfgun

“This is… your fault,” Keith groaned, banging his head against the old building. “You were the one who insisted we go in, guns blazing, without our lions! This is what happens when--”

“It is not! You were totally and completely on board with the idea--” A few gunshots cut Lance off, ricocheting off the walls. Keith risked poking his head around the corner, seeing a total of 10 Galra foot soldiers running up. A hand gripped his upper arm, and he quickly withdrew to look at Lance.

“We need to either get out of here and hide, find a way to get to our lions, or fight them.”

MCR - Autistictobio

keith is a emo

Deez nutz - Autistictobio

Keith is dating a moron

It started off just as a simple kiss, an accident really. - Autistictobio

It started off just as a simple kiss, an accident really. And it felt oh so good. (The rating might go up)

Me Enamora - Leonid42

After training for the day Keith walks back to his room, but on the way is distracted by some strange music.

te aviso te anuncio - Leonid42

Music could really affect you, huh? For some people, it brought a tear to your eye, others would be encouraged for the day. And Keith? Well Keith could feel his heart slowly melt for the stupid Paladin who sang.

My Wrist to Keep - InsominiacArrest

Good old-fashioned hand-cuff fic as Lance and Keith are instructed to bond by being around each other (a lot)

Fuck Me Up - Azure_Wavelet

Based off of this post on tumblr: velazyraptor:

Okay but consider:
 Keith pretending to be lance’s boyfriend to ruin lance’s attempts to flirt with aliens

Heaven Above You (Blood Off Your Hands) - Mytay

“You have to promise — we have to swear that no matter how much we argue or disagree, we are never going to abandon each other.”

“I’m sort of insulted that you need a solemn oath from me over something that I figured was obvious,” Lance murmured lightly, but his eyes were dark and staid. “I couldn’t leave you behind even if you begged me to — you’re stuck with me, Keith.”

Keith’s hand finally bridged that infinitesimal gap. The Blue Paladin intertwined their fingers, squeezing just this side of painfully tight. Keith returned the favour, his heart beating a steady yearning throughout his body.

“Good,” Keith whispered, his face so close to Lance’s that he could easily count each of those long eyelashes. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Two weeks into their marooning on this too-damn-dangerous-planet, Lance shoots someone in cold blood. Keith sees that they are both losing pieces of themselves, with nothing but darkness to fill in the broken gaps.

moments of silence - attemptsonwords

Quiet moments between two boys who spend most of their time yelling at the other.

Winner, Winner - squidmemesinc

“I don’t want to have sex with you!”

“You don’t?! Are you sure you don’t? Because it sure does sound like you want to experience my ‘sex thing’”—air quotes—“for yourself, sexually, in a sexual way, because that’s what you totally just implied.” I experience a brief break in hysteria and straighten up, giving a winning smile to not-Keith, who doesn't deserve its glory. “Although I wouldn’t blame you, I am stunningly handsome and very good at giving he—”

“Lance, stop talking, now! I was just talking about kissing, but if you’re going to be weird or make a big deal out of it, then forget it.”

Captivate - IcyStarlight

Lance is called the king of contests and Keith does not believe it till he sees it.

A Fish And A Bird - Methoxyethane

Lance has a boyfriend. Lance does not realize he has a boyfriend. Keith, understandably, does not react well.

Two Fuckboys Fuck - 5PUSSIES

Against all odds, Lance manages to get laid.

Wear Your Cactus on Your Sleeve - shaqfu

All Lance wanted to do was buy a new cactus for his shop.

An Equitable Compromise - Barkour

It was all Keith's fault that Lance kissed him.

Secret's Out - BlueRoboKitty

Keith and Pidge come to an understanding as they wait anxiously for Lance to heal after the Galra's surprise infiltration of the castle. Pidge learns Keith has a secret of his own.

Apology in a Bottle - BlueRoboKitty

In a rare display of maturity, Lance tries to apologize to Keith for humiliating him. But a bottle of alien wine has found the Red Paladin first.

I Think We're Alone Now - BlueRoboKitty

Surprise, surprise, Keith drinking himself to a mortified stupor actually solved nothing, so once again, it's up to Lance to fix this trainwreck of an attraction he started or the team may never be able to form Voltron again.

Sweet Quiznak - CheckeredCloth

"You're really into him," Hunk mutters, and wow, Lance's face is on fire. Hunk is killing him.

"Look, read into how you like, Freud, just make sure that if I die Keith knows I totally would've mowed his ass like grass. That way, I can laugh hysterically at his emotionally-constipated expression from the afterlife."

Or: Lance is badly injured and has a few skeletons in his closet. Or maybe just the one.

Just a Sip - gaysquared

Keith can't hold his liquor. ______

For the prompt: "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"

Body Heat - littlemissmelody

Lance and Keith are on a mission to a very cold planet to do some recon on the Galra. However, due to a storm, they are stuck in one place for the night.

Or, Lance is freezing, and Keith is basically a furnace.

It's okay too cry - Autistictobio

*SPOILERS* this is the after math of the end of season 1 okay??? Lance and keith are stuck together alone

Nightmares aren't always that bad - Els_writes

Keith has nightmares, Lance helps him sleep.

Casual Contact - quartetship

It started off casually enough.

Ice in your veins - IcyStarlight

You may never be able to return to your first home, but you’ll freeze hell over before you let the world take your second one.

Elemental AU from tumblr user rhymentai

All The Small Things - Priestlyislove

Keith is tiny. Lance is annoying.

no i'll never forget (i just wanted to be near you) - glitterfreezing

"He rests his chin atop Keith’s head and listens to him breathe. The stars are brilliant overhead, and Keith’s mouth is warm against the thin cotton of Lance’s shirt, and Lance wonders if this is what people mean when they say "second home.""

lance and keith, on starting over, missing home, and love.

title from eugene by sufjan stevens.

Coffee - Quiznak

Coffee shop au.

Roommate Wanted - slendermanhood

There is absolutely no way Keith and I will ever become friends, Lance thought angrily to himself. He attended Lance’s dream school, the school that harshly rejected him because he wasn’t good enough. And Keith goes there on a scholarship?!

Lance can’t reject him as a roommate, because his rent was due next week. But, he promised to himself, that stuffy douchebag and I will never be friends, I swear it.

Pidge told him before not to make a stupid rivalry out of this, but Lance can’t help it. He was going to make Keith regret he ever crossed paths with Lance Sanchez.

(In which Lance and Keith are roommates, then enemies, then friends, then enemies again, then lovers)

In Motion - thatonegreenpencil

Late night training session somehow turns into more of a bonding exercise. Or the beginning of one, anyway.

(Set after ep 2)

watch yourself - shizuoh

Keith has a lot of trouble trying to deal with his obnoxious boyfriend.

Nosedive by quartetship

"You still wanna keep going, Keith?"

"You know it."

we'll make it, you and me - asexualrey

"Keith, if we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you."

7 minutes in heaven (heaven looks a lot like a closet) - sun_stricken

lance + keith+ small spaces = gay shit

Meet-Cute, more like Meet-Ugly - mysterem

They say that meeting your soulmate is the best moment of your life. People are always talking about how the second that your counter hits zero it’s like the whole world seems to slow down, and all that matters is the two of you. But no one said anything about getting punched in the face.

Gay Chicken - InsominiacArrest

Someone else drops out of the pilot program and both Keith and Lance are in, and this time wrangled into a pilot’s beginning of year ‘get-together.’ It’s basically a frat party.

They play a very competitive party game neither backs down from.

[greengargouille]

AK RarePair week Spring 2017, Day 5 - Truth

((I can’t seem to get anywhere with the Day 3 prompt, let’s not talk about the RarePair Maker, so let’s all pretend I will have time to come back to those after I finished the other prompts, shall we ?))

Rating: General Audience Characters: Sugaya Sosuke, Mimura Kouki, Nakamura Rio, Fuwa Yuzuki, Okajima Taiga, Kurahashi Hinano Relationship: Sugaya/Mimura

It all started, like a lot of dumb ideas, with Nakamura.

Well, no. It all started with Fuwa, or to be precise, Fuwa and her brother. To celebrate the anime adaptation of one of their favorite mangas, a special limited edition drink had been released - some kind of weird soda, with an exclusive illustration randomly chosen among 5 different for each pack of 3 cans. Of course, as true fans, they had to collect all of them. But, as the girl then explained to Sugaya, a terrible surprise awaited them once they found themselves surrounded by cans, the precious pictures finally all reunited.

Those drinks tasted terrible.

It was then that Nakamura came in the equation. Because Sugaya had been hanging around Mimura’s desk when Fuwa entered in the class and started the conversation with him, the blonde girl have been able to hear everything, and gladly intruded the conversation with an idea as fun as it was terrible.

“You know, ever since Bitch-sensei told us about it, I always wanted to try playing ‘Never had I ever’.”

The organisation of it have been surprisingly fast. Kurahashi, whose desk was near the group, jumped on the idea, which made a total of three girls, so of course Okajima would try to butt in. Mimura kept saying it was a bad idea, yet somehow didn’t try very hard to get out of this - which was... very much like him, actually - like those times when he loudly complained at the erotic magazines Okajima put right under their nose, but never looked away. And, well, Sugaya decided to follow along for the game, since he didn’t have anything programmed for this Saturday afternoon ; those usually ended in an unplanned trip to an exhibit with Mimura, and without the boy around, this wouldn’t be nearly as exciting.

That’s how the 6 of them ended up sitting in circle on the floor in Fuwa’s room, each having in front of them a glass full of a blue soda of suspicious flavor instead of the required alcohol.

“Never had I ever...” The owner of the room pondered the rest of her sentence a few instants, her eyes drifting along the shelves filled to the brim with manga and figurines, before having an epiphany. “...collided with a pretty boy or girl who turned out to be a mysterious transfer student.”

Strangely enough, no one raised their glass.

“...No one ?” Fuwa winced as she emptied her own. “Why is everyone’s life so boring ? -No, I think you just have very weird standards.” Mimura replied. “We’re a class of government approved assassins whose target is a giant yellow octopus able to move at Mach 20, target who happens to be our teacher. I think I’m allowed to have standards. Besides,” she continued on a lower tone, “we’re in a fanfiction, who knows what could happens.”

As usual, nobody understood what she was mumbling about. It’s been like this every time it was her turn - using out-of-left-field ideas she seemed to consider perfectly normal, and ending up disappointed. Still living in her own world.

After a minute, to make sure everyone was listening, Mimura continued, with careful enunciation. He spent the game so far trying to ask interesting questions, while wary of things that could potentially end with his embarrassment. This was not an easy game for him, who wanted to stay honest yet not attracting the attention of the others on some things he might have potentially done.

“Never had I ever thought about what would I do if I was a ghost. -Eh, not bad.” Nakamura smiled as she took her glass along with the others around her. “How about we add a new rule : when everyone drink, it’s just like when only one person end up drinking, we all have to explain in details. -Sugaya-kun didn’t drink for this one, though.” Fuwa responded, ever the one to notice those details. “What- come on, Sugaya, you can’t be serious ! -Sugayan is a cheater~" Kurahashi playfully nodded along, as if she herself didn’t jump on every loophole she could find. “Sorry to have never considered becoming a ghost...”

The artist was, to be honest, a bit annoyed the others doubted him. It’s not that he never did anything stupid or awkward ; he had plenty of examples where his lack of thinking about the consequences of his acts got him in trouble. However, his comrades had very particular ideas of what could be juicy material worth asking. He was probably the least perverted boy of the class, making him unconcerned by most of Okajima’s statements. And the stupid things Nakamura asked -‘ever tried smoking’, ‘ever burned your homework’... weren’t his style. Or anyone, for some of those - he strongly suspected her to ask those only for herself to brag about it. He couldn’t be quite sure, for she also was the kind to sabotage herself if that meant she could learn some blackmail-worthy informations on her friends. And then there were Kurahashi’s statements, which was a mixed bag of lighthearted questions alongside the ones made specifically to drag someone -on that Sugaya still anxiously waited for one that would concern him, but for now she preferred her other victims.

As for his own questions, one could say he played safe. He didn’t want to end like Fuwa, having to drink because nobody had ever done anything she asked, but he couldn’t quite grasp how to make the game interesting for everyone -sleazy statements really weren’t to his tastes.

“Never had I ever had full marks in an exam.”

This was the easy way out - he was a terrible student, on par with Terasaka, so it came quite naturally. And if Mimura wasn’t drinking to this one, as a good student but one that apparently had missed the perfect 100 by a few points quite often in his first years, according to him... Well, there was still one person that could not escape this one.

“Wait a minute... are you targeting me ?” Nakamura almost sounded offended, but this was lost in her gleeful smile. “Fine, the war is on, don’t expect me to go easy on you any more !” After a few instants, she quickly added. “No statements about love life, though. I hate those.”

Kurahashi burst out in laughter. “Rio-chan, hating on love affairs ? That’s a first !” The blonde grimaced. “I’m serious. Like, I might have meddled with a few of my comrades’ crushes now and then, but that’s nowhere near the image some of you seem to have from me. Plus, I only teased them around people who already knew about their feelings. Forcing someone to confess in front of everyone like that feels... I dunno, off. -That,” Okajima replied, “seems like a load of bullshit. I think you just don’t want people to ask you if you got a crush. Who was it that Korosensei paired you with during the island trial ? Wasn’t it Sugaya ?” He looked at his friend, raising a brow. “Is it why you’re targeting her ? Is it some kind of lover’s teasing ? -What ? No ! -I’m on Nakamura’s side on this one.” said Fuwa. “In this kind of ask game, there’s a 100 percent chance that someone in the group have a unrequited crush on someone else. -Oh, like in shoujo mangas, you mean ?” Kurahashi seemed intrigued. “Yes, exactly. And that will make everyone awkward. -Hm... That’s suspicious, that you’re pointing that out. Don’t tell me-” Okajima gasped “both of you are in love with Sugaya ?! Why him and not me ? That’s so not fair ! -I’m not in love.”  Fuwa and Nakamura said this in unison. “Awwn, don’t worry, Oka-chin, I’m sure even a sleazebag like you can met their soulmate !” Meanwhile, Kurahashi was more amused than anything by the whole case. “Ah, whatever. Let’s continue the game, if you’re all like that. Whose turn it was ? Mine ?”

As he realised this, Okajima’s lips slowly turned into a smile that announced nothing good.

This, Sugaya realised, made him slightly worried.

Ever since they started the game, the pervy student kept insisting on how this was the kind of game on which you should absolutely never, ever lie. If one lied on this, they would attract bad luck on them, or be consumed of guilt, or other grandiloquent reaction - anything that could push the others to say the truth, which they assured they were already doing. Well, maybe not Kurahashi, it was hard to tell for her. Of course, the only reason Okajima was so adamant on this point was so he could then say the most shameless statement for them to drink on.

But, after this conversation, Sugaya was pretty sure the guy had another idea in mind. An idea he really didn’t like.

The whole discussion of whether one of the girls could actually love him felt... annoying, to be honest. As if his own opinion on the subject was taken for granted, or that the others didn’t care much about that side. He hated being ignored.

It’s not like he was against the idea of falling in love. He had pondered about that ever since he entered junior high - listening to conversations in the locker room during PE, or some of the male students excitedly talking about the chest of some new idol. This was something he never understood, and it made him spend hours thinking about whether he had any interest in girls - or anybody, really. But, ever since the summer trip class E obtained as a reward, he came to grasp things under another perspective. The way Irina talked about seducing people and herself falling in love, it made him felt warm in the chest and tainted his cheeks in a pinkish color. Romance, as he understood, didn’t necessarily had to be paired with more lustful thoughts. Getting close and affectionate with someone, doing things in couples... those ideas were actually tempting.

But, those two girls, he just couldn’t see himself with them. He liked them, the same way he liked everyone in the class, comrades of similar experiences with who chatting was fun. Peeking at the latest Weekly Shonen Jump with Fuwa while attempting to make her interested in the art magazines he gave her, this was fun. Listening to songs Nakamura choose and singing them with her, before she explained with a grin what exactly the lyrics were talking about, this was... embarrassing, but fun too. Imagining going to museums with either of them, having one sit against him to have a closer look at what he was drawing, being alone in his room with one of the girls, only the two of them, that felt more awkward than anything. He just couldn’t see that happen, yet no one was considering his opinion.

That’s why he felt pretty irritated at Okajima when the boy finally said his statement.

“Never had I ever fell in love with Sugaya.”

At least he could comfort himself knowing that none of the girl raised their glass to their lips.

“Sorry, Sugayan, seems like you aren’t popular enough !” The silence was easen up with Kurahashi’s intervention, and they all relaxed a bit. “You girls really aren’t lying, are you ? -Dude, who the hell would lie during the game ?” Nakamura replied while rolling her eyes at Okajima. “You said so yourself, that would sucks, and if one of us was caught lying, nobody in the group would trust them next time they deny something. That’s a bad move in the long term. So no, I’m not in love with Sugaya - or anyone, for that matter. -Waaaah, Rio-chan, you’re breaking my heart !” Kurahashi took an overly dramatic expression. “Were you lying, when you told me you loved me ? -Awn, you know me, my heart might be made of stone but not even I could truly resist your charms.” Nakamura replied with a playful tone. This was... confusing to watch, but at least Sugaya was glad they were switching subjects. Bless Kurahashi, ever the best one when it came to turn over the conversation. “Okay, I believe you two.” However, once Okajima had an idea, it was hard to get it out of his head. “What about you, Fu-?”

He stopped at the last syllable, his eyes following the young girl’s gaze. Of course, ever the observant one, her detective-like senses had caught something that nobody else noticed.

There was one person that had stayed oddly silent during the whole case. One person that wouldn’t, usually, contain his words when he thought his friends were too nosy or annoying.

Sugaya slowly turned his head to look at the boy next to him. Mimura was tense, paralysed as if being caught doing something truly despicable, his eyes going from face to face, looking at everyone as they finally noticed him. His hands were slightly shaking as they tightened even more on the glass he was holding.

“This,” he stated in a slightly panicked voice, “is a misunderstanding. I just- I took my glass while Okajima was talking- I didn’t think he would - I - I was thinking about something else and - I...” He swallowed his saliva, unable to form a coherent sentence. “I think I forgot to tell my father at which hour I should come home. I. Think I should make a phone call. If you would excuse me.” He talked while getting up in a rush, not even taking time to just put his glass down.

Sugaya would say he was familiar with the way Mimura acted when nervous. His plain face was easy to read, as it would honestly show his emotions. He might be a good movie director, but as for acting he was too easily troubled. There were times when he was surprisingly calm ; times like when the God of Death had kidnapped them and he was able to keep a clear mind to form a plan ; times like when Sugaya had invited him home and when presented to the artist’s parents, he lied with a straight face on how his mother was a housewife and his father an employee, fully aware that Sugaya knew it was the exact opposite. Maybe even times his good friend didn’t even notice. But, on most times, it was just like this, nervously spouting awkward words, his expression showing fully his embarrassment.

He knew Mimura. In that instant, as he was escaping the room, he was clearly lying.

After footsteps were heard descending the stairs, Fuwa broke the silence between them, expressing what they had more of less grasped.

“...He was thinking about drinking his glass, wasn’t he.”

The implications of it were left unsaid, but they all understood.

“And that’s why I said not to make statements on love.” Nakamura seemed like she didn’t know how to handle this mess of a situation. “Of course it would end up like this. -I never thought this could happen.” Okajima was mortified. “I mean, that can’t be it- he would have- okay, maybe he wouldn’t have told me, but... I mean... he likes girls ! -That doesn’t mean he can’t like boys, though ?” Kurahashi blinked, as if it was an obvious fact.

All of this made no sense to Sugaya. He never had considered the idea that someone he was close to might hold this kind of feelings for him. When did this happens ? He and Mimura had grew closer with the months passing, to the point he could say without hesitation that the boy was his best friend. Naturally, their attitude toward each other had changed accordingly - but never Sugaya could have imagined this as anything but... Well, friendship didn’t seem to quite cover it, but some bond that was particular to them. An unique concept.

He needed to know. There was room for interpretation ; maybe this was, indeed, some kind of misunderstanding, something a bit embarrassing to admit that had made Mimura confused in his explanations. Sugaya needed certitude that this was really was everyone was thinking it was.

As for how he should feel if this was indeed, love... He didn’t know.

“You aren’t going to go after him ?” Kurahashi asked innocently.

This was the push he needed to finally deciding to act.

Thankfully, Mimura wasn’t difficult to find. Sugaya had wondered one moment whether the boy would have ran away from the house, too worried to confront the others about the situation. But he was here, sitting at the bottom of the stairs, lost in thoughts as his eyes were fixated on the blue liquid of his glass. He raised his head as he heard Sugaya approach ; it wasn’t on the level of Fuwa, but he was quite perceptive of his environment.

“Ah, I- I couldn’t join my father, so- I just... -No worries, I understand.”

Mimura’s shoulders seemed to drop slightly. Sugaya saw that as a good sign. Still, as he sat down next to his friend, he was unable to find the words he needed. He wished he had access to his sketchbook and his supplies. Everything would fall down naturally if he could express his doubts with pictures, or at least the familiarity of it -having Mimura by his side as he drew- would ease him enough for him to finally ask.

“How are they reacting up there ? Is this... bad...? -The girls are annoyed by what Okajima did, so it’s not to out of the usual.” Mimura snickered at the comment. “He seems actually sorry though. -I see. Well, I hope this won’t blow out of proportions. I’m glad that Korosensei wasn’t there, at least, or I would never hear the end of it. -Haha, yes.” The biggest gossiper of the class would just love this kind of scandal, wouldn’t he. “...Say, Mimura...”

The boy looked at Sugaya, a weird look on his face. His eyes seemed to plead him. ‘Please, don’t ask this.’

Unfortunately, he already had made his mind. “...Do you love me ?”

Mimura just sighed. Sugaya wondered if that was all the response he would get, but then, he spoke, slowly, carefully. As if each word out of place would be used against him. “I... don’t dislike you, I guess.”

This could be considered a negative answer. That how much Mimura valued their relation only amounted to this much. Sugaya knew better than this. The other boy choose those words purposely, not denying it nor confirming it, letting the ones listening interpret the meaning without having to outright lie about it. A disguised truth.

“That’s not an answer. -...You really won’t let go of this, right ?” Mimura lowered his heads, eyes turned to the floor. It was hard to see his expression like this. “I... I can’t say ‘yes’ to this question. Even if we were in a case where I happened to...” He stopped one instant and took a deep breath. “Even if I loved you, it would be difficult to say it. It could potentially ruin our whole relationship. And that’s not even talking of the others at school. -...So it’s a ‘no’, then ?” All those turn of phrases were difficult to process to him. “If you don’t say it clearly, I won’t understand. -Now you’re starting to speak like Bitch-sensei. ‘Why Japanese men have to say things in such a convoluted way, it’s annoying !’.” He smiled at the thought, before regaining a sober expression. “Fine. I will say it. But in exchange, I want to ask a favor out of you. -What is it ? -You have to believe me. Because I will say ‘no’. And, if you start to doubt it, it will be really painful.” Mimura’s tone was calm and firm, but he couldn’t hide a slight trembling in his voice. “Because then you will start to wonder about every little thing I do for you. If I do it because I love you. And I will have to deny it over and over, harsher and stronger each time. I... I can’t do that. ‘I like your smile.’ ‘I want to stay by your side.’ ‘You makes me happy.’ I don’t want to lie about those things.” His last words were quieter, almost a whisper. “Can you... do that for me ?”

The way the boy looked, huddled on himself, lips tightened in a twisted smile and hand clenched around his glass, really made Sugaya want to comfort him. It hurts to see him like that, in this pathetic state, and to think he was responsible for it. He almost agreed to the offer, just so relieve him of the anxiousness visible in his tense body.

Almost.

It would probably be fine to just accept. Continuing to live pretending to be unaware of the truth. He liked the relationship he currently had. They were able to talk and have fun almost every day, and they supported each other in their respective artistic domains. He could see that continuing for a while. Years, even decades.

On the other hand, acknowledging Mimura’s feelings... That was scary. Sugaya didn’t know how that would change their way of interacting. He didn’t even know how he felt about it.

But his choice had already been made the moment he had stepped out of the room.

“Sorry. I could tell you ‘yes’, but I think that would be a lie. -Ah. I figured that would be the case. We’re both really bad liars, it seems.”

Mimura looked at the glass in his hand, the one that had started the whole drama. He then raised it to his lips and drank the whole thing.

“...It’s disgusting, isn’t it.”

Sugaya somehow got the feeling he wasn’t talking about the drink.

“...I think it’s okay, personally.”

He was actually surprised by how fine he was with the situation. On the moment, he had been worried. That this bond he felt was so special was different from what he imagined. But, seeing the smaller boy so worried about how this could destroy the relationship they already had... He was convinced. Their connection was genuine. That was what mattered the most to him.

“I still need to think on how I feel about love,” he continued, “but, you know ? I don’t dislike you, either. -...Thank you.”

They stayed silent for a while after that. On the floor above them, indignant noises could be heard - whatever the rest of the group was doing, it wasn’t in Okajima’s favor. Both of them would eventually have to get up and help their friend. But, for now, they just wanted to appreciate a moment together.