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larchraven · 4 years ago

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SHATs RPS week: Out of Touch Tross Touching Thursday

Title: Two Guys Sitting in a Hot Tub, Plastered Against Each Other Because They're Super Fucking Gay

Ship: Trott/Ross (Tross)

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 1.6k

Description: You know that one vlog? I decided to make it gay and take it to the left now y'all. Also Trott has a ponytail because I wanted to inflict that on @psylid, specifically.

Content details: Skinny dipping boys are naked and in the pool and then hot tub. The have a few drinks (beer). Background Hatsome, as per usual. No sex happens, but there is some kissing and touching of Skin and Hair. The working title became the real title because i am Done. Nothing like getting 2/3 of the way through and losing it all so you gotta start over from scratch. BUT LET IT NOT BE SAID THAT I AM A STUBBORN FUCK, because i did it.

__________________________

It was bright out on the deck, despite the late hour. The pool cast wavering light up under the eaves of the house, dancing along the side of the AirBnB. The spotlight on the outside of one of the neighbors shone over the flowering trees growing dense and dark between the houses.

From the doorway in the living room out onto the deck, Ross watched Trott. Trott stood by the pool, trailing the toes of one of his bare feet on the surface of the water. In one of his hands was a beer, something that they had picked up on their shopping trip after the flight got in. It was nearly empty, and Ross could see the last of it swishing in the bottom of the bottle as Trott moved. As Ross watched him, he looked up, catching sight of Ross.

He left the doorway, coming to stand by Trott. As he approached, Trott gave him a tired smile.

Miraculously, Ross had slept almost the entire flight into California. Unlike Smith and Trott, who hadn’t managed to catch any sleep at all.

“Smith’s out. I’m surprised you’re not in there with him.”

“I think I’m too exhausted to sleep.”

“That makes no sense, Trott.”

“It makes perfect sense to me. I think I’m starting to see through the fabric of space and time.”

Ross shook his head, worried but knowing that Trott was probably right. He usually was too wound up from travel to settle down, no matter how little sleep he’d gotten the night before or how long he’d been awake. Ross gently wrapped an arm around Trott’s waist, pulling him closer.

Trott turned, returning the embrace fully. The giddy freedom of being away from everything and everyone they knew hit Ross. Normally they were less publicly affectionate, Trott especially. When they traveled like this though, it was easier to let go and openly show what was normally reserved for the privacy of their home. Ross swayed a bit, rocking Trott and pressing a kiss to Trott’s hair. Ross moved his hands up, tugging out the hair tie that held Trott’s ponytail.

“Ross,” Trott said, exasperated.

“What?” Ross said innocently. He started combing fingers through Trott’s hair, teasing out the few tangles. Against Ross’s t-shirt, Trott sighed, and Ross felt him relax. He didn’t move away, and Ross kept running fingers through Trott’s hair. He twisted strands together, and combed them out again.

“It’s a shame we didn’t pack things to swim in.”

“Could always go in naked.”

“That water looks awful cold Trott.”

The night had dropped the temperatures; it was still warm out but was well below what Ross would consider acceptable swimming weather.

“The hot tub is on.”

Ross couldn’t deny the thought of sitting in the hot tub naked had some serious appeal. Unless the neighbors made a habit of walking around in the middle of the night with a periscope, the deck was shrouded in privacy.

Trott pulled away, draining the last of his beer as he walked towards the hot tub. Standing before the bulky cube, he started to strip.

“Trott.”

He paused, turning towards Ross with his shirt hanging from one hand.

“I’m going to get a drink. You want another?”

“Sure, sunshine,” Trott said, and started unbuttoning his jeans.

In the kitchen, Ross tried his best to be quiet. He winced when the two bottles clinked against the counter top, despite the knowledge that Smith was likely not going to wake up even if he was dropping cutlery. Over the sound of the drawers opening and closing as he searched for the bottle opener, he thought he could hear the sound of Smith snoring.

When Ross returned to the deck, he didn’t see Trott. The sound of a splash pulled his attention over ot the pool where Trott had just surfaced. He stroked through the water, shadows and light making contrast over Trott’s toned figure.

“What the hell are you doing, you crazy man.”

Ross squatted at the edge of the pool, sticking a hand in. The water was cool, but not as cold as he’d thought it would be. He sat, and dangled his bare feet and legs into the water. Trott swam over to him, grabbing onto Ross’s legs and floating.

“Everyone knows going into the pool before you get into the hot tub makes it feel better. The water isn’t so bad.”

Trott’s fingers wandered up Ross’s leg to the back of his knee where Ross was especially ticklish.

“No!” Ross nearly shouted, and Trott shushed him, laughing as he did. “You’re a wicked man, Chris Trott. I can’t believe I’m being talked into this.”

“I’m very persuasive and charming.”

“Too charming.”

“Just think of how jealous Smith will be once he finds out we went skinny dipping without him”

“Well, when you put it that way I just can’t argue.”

Ross got up again, and Trott pushed off of the side of the pool to float on his back. His hands moved, making little eddies as he kept himself afloat. Making a pile next to the beers, Ross tugged off his clothes. The cool night air hit his bare skin, and the mild thrill of being naked in the middle of a bougie California suburb helped convince him that jumping in the pool was a good idea.

Before he lost the adrenaline, Ross ran the few steps to the edge of the pool and leaped. Flailing his arms he tried to make as big of a splash where he landed next to Trott as possible.

When he surfaced, Trott splashed water at his face, making Ross splutter and flounder.

“You’re such a dick,” Trott shoved at the water again, but it didn’t reach Ross.

“Says the guy who splashed me!”

“You splashed first.”

“Technicalities.”

Much less gracefully than Trott, Ross swam toward the shallow section of the pool. Not used to swimming without trunks on, Ross felt especially conscious of all the places the cool water moved against his skin. The last time he had gone skinny dipping must have been when he was in uni, at some house party full of alcohol and youthful insanity. He felt far too lazy to actually swim now, so he crouched in the water at the edge, leaning against the side of the pool.

Beneath the water Trott followed him, surfacing just in front of Ross. Planting hands on the edge on either side of Ross’s shoulders, Trott boxed him in. His face was close to Ross’s, hair slicked back until it fanned out beneath the surface. Ross leaned forward, closing the gap to press their mouths together. He reached out, pulling Trott closer so that their bodies slid against one another.

“Ross, I don’t think I’m in the mood-”

“Me neither. I just like touching you Trott, if that’s okay.”

“That’s super fucking gay, Ross.”

“Hey, its not gay if your balls don’t touch.” Ross followed the ridges of Trott’s shoulder blades, hands resting on either side of his spine and digging into the muscle.

“I hate to break it to you Ross, but we’ve done a lot more than touch balls.”

“Damn. Guess that means I’m gay then.”

“For sure.”

They drifted together, kissing without urgency. Trott was the one to finally push away.

“Hot tub?” Ross asked, standing up and pulling himself from the pool. Instantly, he regretted ever deciding to jump into the cool water. The light breeze hit his wet skin and chilled him thoroughly in seconds.

Very nearly slipping on the wet deck, but catching himself at the last minute, he ran to the hot tub and quickly climbed in. The warmth flooded through him, cold from the water and night melting away in a rush that Ross had to agree was much nicer than if he’d just got straight into the hot tub.

Much more sedately, Trott walked over. He carried the beer and Ross’s clothes, dropping Ross’s shorts and shirt next to his own beside the hot tub. Extending a hand, he offered Ross one of the bottles. Ross took it, and settled himself in one of the lounge seats. He messed with the dials for the jets and lights idly, until he found something that seemed alright. Trott swung his legs over the side of the hot tub and perched on the side, just his feet and calves in the water. He took a long drink from his beer before setting it aside. With a few practiced twists he pulled his hair back into a ponytail. Ross sipped his drink much more slowly than Trott had his, watching Trott. While Ross appreciated the view, Trott was too far away. Ross reached out and ran fingers over the bones and tendons of Trott’s ankle. In their familiar wordless way, Trott seemed to understand what Ross wanted.

“Move forward for me Ross.”

Ross obliged, and Trott scooted himself around the edge before lowering himself into the swirling water behind where Ross sat. The hot tub seating wasn’t really designed for two people to sit this way, but with a bit of jostling Ross was settled comfortably against Trott’s front. Fingertips ran over his collarbone and down his chest, making Ross shiver despite the warmth of the water.

“Comfy?”

“Yeah.”

Now that he wasn’t so cold, the contentment of just getting to spend time with Trott filled him. Ross watched the lights of a plane as it tracked across the sky towards the city. They were high up into the mountains, and gap in the trees made either by artifice or nature gave them an almost perfectly framed view of the urban sprawl below. On some of the hillsides were radio towers, red fireflies that blinked in asynchronicity. Trott kissed Ross’s cheek gently. The solidity of Trott behind him, compared to the constant movement of bubbles and water across his skin, was a low pleasure that warmed him more than the water did.

“You’re right Trott. Smith is going to be so jealous.”

#tross #hatsfic #hatships #yogsfic #raven fic #rps #my tags are a NIGHTMARE #i had something in the original draft of this post that was ALSO lost when my computer had a shit on me earlier #but thats so long gone now idgaf #enjoy.#i suffered for this

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larchraven · 3 years ago

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SHATs RPS week: Hatsome Fuck Friday

Title: Homoeroticizing the Vlogs pt. 2

Ship: Trott/Ross/Smith (Hatsome)

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 1.7k

Description: You know that other vlog series? The one with the RV? Surprise, that ones gay now too.

Content details: A little bit of angst (for flavor) and a bit of miscommunication. Some not explicitly consented to but welcomed kissing. Happy fade to black ending tho ;3

edit: Yes if youre wondering this is 100000% an homage to 2015 Hatsome fic. gotta bring it back to our roots.

________________________

Somehow Trott managed to precariously stack the last of the wet dishes on the counter. He’d volunteered since Ross had cooked dinner, but regretted it after the second overlarge pot he had to try to thoroughly wash out in the minuscule sink of the RV. The chore was done though, and the fire that Smith had started when Ross was making dinner was calling him.

He opened the screen door on the RV and froze. Beside the fire sat Smith and Ross, which was more or less what he had expected to see. What he had not expected to see was the two of them kissing. Trott stared, feeling like reality was slipping. It made sense. It made a horrible, awful sense that this was where the two of them had wound up, and that knowledge sank into Trott’s gut and proceeded to twist his insides into knots. In a way he was surprised it had taken them this long. But it burned still, in some final way, that there would now always be the two of them, and him on the outside.

The slap of the screen door closing as he stood there transfixed alerted them to his presence, and they sprang apart.

“Trott!” Ross said, just shy of a yell.

He paced the RV. There was nowhere to go, no privacy to be had in the cramped interior. Trott’s mind was blank, filled with static that drowned out any ability to process what he’d just seen. One of them was sure to come here and confront him in a moment, and the thought of that sent new panic through him. He had to get out, and away from this so that he could think.

Smith reached the door at almost the same time that Trott did. Their eyes met, but Trott looked away quickly so he could shoulder past Smith and leave the campsite.

The gravel on the road that looped the campground crunched with each of his rapid footfalls. The sounds of breaking branches drifted through the trees as someone broke up wood for their own fire. Voices echoed, and Trott purposefully slowed his pace. He was walking too fast, there was no need. If he took enough time circling through the campground, Ross and Smith might just make use of his absence and save him having to experience any further emotional blows.

It was hitting him harder than it should. The whole situation. Considering how little the development surprised him, his reaction was disproportionate. Deep down he knew why, but he didn’t want to face the reality that his love for his two friends had strayed away from strictly platonic a long time ago. Unfortunately for him, Ross and Smith had forced him to confront it. And doubly injurious was that the airing of their own feelings had neatly and effortlessly excluded him. He wanted them to be happy. He knew that. But still his eyes stung, and he wished that things were otherwise.

It didn’t take him that long to loop the campground, even moving slowly. He thought about taking another lap, but decided against it. His childish storming off probably wouldn’t go over well with Smith and Ross, and it was best to face the music sooner rather than after they started wondering if he was even coming back.

Ross was the only one at the campsite, poking at the dwindling fire with a stick. He looked up at the sound of Trott’s footfalls, standing abruptly when he saw Trott like a marionette that had its strings yanked upwards. Ross opened his mouth to say something but Trott butted in.

“Where’s Smith?” He stopped just outside the ring of log benched that surrounded the fire.

“He went after you. We figured at least one of us should stay at the campsite, but Smith couldn’t stand not doing anything.”

Rather than staying on the other side of the fire, where Trott hoped he would, Ross joined him.

“Kinda hoped you two might take advantage of me being gone, so I don’t have to get sexiled from the RV tonight or deal with ten hours of sexual repression on the road tomorrow.”

“Trott don’t say that.”

“Why not?” His voice was loud, he knew that the neighboring campsites would have a hard time not overhearing their conversation if he kept that up. “Why not?” he said again, quieter. “With you two paired off it’s not like I’m going to sit around pretending to be asleep for the rest of the trip.”

“No one’s paired off Trott!” Ross reached for his shoulder but Trott shook him off.

“Ross, no offense, but do you seriously think I’m that fucking blind? You two have been mooning after each other so long, I’m surprised it took until now. I just wish you’d waited one more fucking week until we got back home.”

“I didn’t know you’d be so bothered Trott.”

“Spoken like someone who doesn’t have to third wheel his two closest friends on a camping trip.”

Instead of replying, Ross reached for him again, pulling Trott towards him and bringing their mouths together. It was less a kiss, and more a crush of lips and bumped noses, Ross’s facial hair rough against Trott’s own.

Trott shoved Ross, who let go without resistance.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Trott hissed. If he let his voice come above a whisper he would be shouting.

“I think it’s pretty obvious Trott.”

“Why.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.” Ross looked at him, eyes intent. “Tell me I’m wrong and you didn’t want that as much as I did and we’ll forget all about it.”

Trott’s heart sank, at being found out before even he had really let himself feel that wanting. The wanting to pull Ross back in, to apologize. To kiss him as they stumbled back to the privacy of the RV, and then do a whole lot more than kiss.

“That’s besides the point! How do you think Smith would-”

“Trott!” As if summoned by his words, Smith hurried back towards them through the campsite. His relieved smile faded when he caught sight of Trott’s expression, and Smith wavered as if he had wanted to rush forward but no longer thought it was a good idea. “Trott I looked everywhere for you.”

“Trott was just asking how you’d feel about me kissing him.”

“Ross!” Trott was yelling now.

Smith looked between the two of them.

“A little jealous that I wasn’t here to see it, or that I didn’t find Trott in the campground and apologize and then kiss him first. But like, not bad, if that’s what you’re asking Trott.”

Trott just stared at Smith. Slowly Smith closed the distance he’d left. Unlike Ross, Smith was careful as he leaned down, and Trott had plenty of time to stop him.

He didn’t. Their mouths met, and Smith kissed him gently and lingeringly. It was Smith who broke the kiss after a long moment, pulling back to look Trott in the eye. He left his hand where it had settled on Trott’s cheek.

“I think I’m having a stroke.” Trott stepped away, looking at the fire to avoid Smith’s overwhelming gaze. He felt the ghost of Smith’s lips on his own, and wanted Smith back.

“I think that was hot,” Ross spoke up, reminding Trott that he had been standing there watching them.

“I think so too.”

Trott wasn’t a very hopeful man. He didn’t like to get his hopes up about much of anything these days. Not work, not family, and especially not his personal life. Hat Films would never reach a million subscribers on Youtube, his family would continue to drive him insane with their inability to grow as people, and he would absolutely never come close to realizing the feelings he had up until now refused to admit even existed. And yet here were Smith and Ross, looking at him hopefully in the red glow from the fading fire, as if he was what they were hoping for too.

“I can’t believe this shit. You two have some explaining to do,” he said.

They looked at each other, and even seemed a bit chastised. Smith took a deep breath and started speaking.

“Well. We were just sitting here, talking. You know, and. Well.” He gestured openly with his hands, as if that explained everything. “About you, and how we both very much would like to kiss you, and have sex with you, and maybe even date you. And then one thing lead to another until you, well. Saw things as they were. I don’t know how else to explain it Trott.”

Smith looked at Ross helplessly.

“No one has to get left out Trott,” Ross said, tone pleading.

“Let me get this straight.” Trott was trying hard not to lose his temper again. “You two were talking to each other about how much you both want to fuck me. And then decided to make out about it?”

There was silence except for the rustle of settling coals in the fire pit, and crickets chirping in the night. Ross put one hand over his eyes.

“Uh yeah. Pretty much,” Smith said, and Ross mumbled his agreement from behind his hand.

“God. You know what, that more than anything makes me believe you because that would be just like you both.”

“I mean to be fair Trott,” Ross looked at Smith. “We did also talk about how much we want to fuck each other. After we got through the whole, you know. Talking about you.”

Despite himself, Trott felt a smile on his face. It was reflected in a giddy grin on Smith’s and a pleased smile on Ross’s.

“Have I told you both how much I hate you recently?”

“You love us.”

“And every day you help me find new ways to regret it.”

Smith pulled him into a hug, one almost like any other that Smith had given him over the years. But now the guilt Trott had felt with the hidden layers of joy Smith’s contact brought him was gone. Ross’s hand found his back, and Trott watched as Smith leaned over to kiss Ross again, inches from Trott’s face.

“Do you think we can all fit in the bed?” He asked, and Ross and Smith parted to look down at him.

“Only one way to find out.”

#rps #hatsome #hatsfic #yogfic #yogsfic #my brain is mush because of a new med but look everyone i managed to power through and write something #this is like the simplified au version of a thing i cooked up where instead of trott letting go of the door #he very gently closes it and ross and smith dont know he saw #and then everyone proceeds to angst around eachother and repress their feelings for most of the rest of the trip #until trott has a meltdown #and then and ONLY then #is there the happy someone winds up mostly on the floor thank fuck theres walls otherwise we would never manage this sex on the RV bed #raven fic #*lays on floor*#someone bring me a hot cockolate and tuck me in as a reward for still doing this

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larchraven · 3 years ago

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SHATs RPS week: Smornby Smut AU I Just Made Up Saturday

Title: Crystal Clear

Ship: Ross/Smith (Smornby)

Rating: Gen

Wordcount: 860

Description: Who doesn't love a fantasy AU? Who doesn't love anxious disaster chaos sorcerer Smith?

Content details: An AU I made up and honestly, I can't remember what the original inspiration for this was. Only that I am distinctly lacking in the Smornby AUs department. Please enjoy this dumb little meet-cute.

[edit: helps if i......actually put the thing under the cut......]

___________________________

The bell on the shop’s door chimed merrily, bouncing on its coiled band of metal to announce Smith’s entry. The worn wooden floorboards squeaked as he stepped out of the clear blustery afternoon and into the warm and subdued glow of the shop.

“Afternoon,” called the shopkeeper. He was hidden behind the narrow rows of drawers and display cases that reached almost to the ceiling, high above Smith’s head. From somewhere in the back of the shop came the sound of wood creaking, and metal wheels rolling on one of the ladder tracks that allowed for access to the highest drawers. Smith twisted the top of the cloth satchel in his hand, the crystals inside clinking together.

“Afternoon,” he replied back. Bracing himself, he approached the counter with the till.

“Can I help you find-” the shopkeeper rounded a corner and caught sight of him, stopping in the middle of his sentence. “Oh. You again.”

“Me again,” Smith said, voice strained with false good humor.

“Let me guess. These ones broke too?” The shop keeper lifted the section of counter that allowed him access to the till. He leaned his elbows on the glass of the display case, looking at Smith with an aggrieved expression.

“Uhm,” Smith said. He slowly placed the cloth satchel on the counter, bits of rock inside making their tell-tale rattle.

The shopkeeper rolled his eyes, picked up one of the little baskets meant for browsing customers, and turned away from Smith.

“You’re seriously making me re-consider that warranty policy. You’ve single-handedly broken more crystals than all my other customers combined, since we started business.”

As he spoke, he rummaged through the drawers behind the counter, opening them one by one and pulling out replacements for the crystals that Smith had broken, yet again.

“Look, I’m sorry to be such a bother, I really don’t mind paying for the replacements.”

“And let word get out that Hornby’s Unconditional Lifetime Guarantee does in fact have conditions? Absolutely not.” He dropped the basket full of crystals onto the countertop, plucking the satchel from Smith’s fingers. The shopkeeper dumped out the broken crystals, sorting them into piles as he scowled at them. He started punching buttons on the till, its little chimes dinging as cheerfully as the door.

Smith fidgeted, straightening the little cards where they sat in their carved soapstone holder by the register. Printed on the cards in neat text were the words:

Hornby’s Finest Crystals, Gems, and Minerals

For all your magickal and decorative needs

Unconditional Lifetime Guarantee on all New Crystal Purchases

NO EXCEPTIONS!

63 West Wallaby Street

Ross Hornby, Proprietor

“I’m honestly impressed you manage to break these.” The shopkeeper commented. He pressed a button on the till and the drawer slid out with one final chorus of bells. He slid it closed, and scooped all the broken crystal bits into a box on the floor full of a rainbow of jagged pieces of rock. He dusted off his hands on the quilted vest he wore. A deep red one today, with embroidered leaves on the hem and shoulders, worked in thread just a shade darker than the fabric. “There have to be easier ways to flirt with someone.”

“Beg pardon?” Smith felt his face get hot.

“There’s no need to keep going to such crazy lengths to get my attention. I’m pretty sure you had it after the fifth time you came in here.”

“I’m not breaking them on purpose!”

“Right. You just happen to break the same crystals – the finest in town I might add – again and again.”

The shopkeeper began to wrap the new crystals in paper, lining up the little bundles neatly on the counter as he rolled and folded with deft fingers.

“I swear! Well, I am deliberately stressing them, but my intent isn’t to break the crystals. Far from it! I’m conducting some very experimental...experiments. Magicks. Your crystals are the only ones that come close to holding up to the task.”

The shopkeeper finished packing the wrapped crystals into the small bag Smith had come in with, and crossed his arms over his chest. A small smile broke through the annoyance as he looked Smith up and down.

“So you’re not flirting then.”

“No! I mean, not by breaking the crystals. Not if you’re not interested.”

“But you are flirting if I am interested, is that right?”

“I can just take these, and go. I really don’t mean to keep troubling you, Mister...” He reached for the bag, but the shopkeeper caught his hand before he could grab it and bolt.

“It's Ross.” He gave Smith’s hand a squeeze, and Smith felt himself blushing all over again. “Are you busy tomorrow evening?”

“N-no?” Smith was paralyzed, caught in place by Ross’s hand on his own.

“I’ll meet you down by the wharf then, an hour before sundown. I know a vendor who makes excellent sausage. My treat.”

Smith nodded, and Ross grinned at him.

“I’ll see you then...” He paused, looking at Smith pointedly.

“Smith. Alex Smith.”

He pressed the cloth satchel into Smith’s hand, wrapping Smith’s fingers around it with a gentle squeeze.

“It's a date, Smith.”

#rps #smornby #hatsfic #yogfic #yogsfic #my brain is extremely fried right now so im having to drastically reduce my aspirations for these #OTL #raven fic #i might delay the shatsome one so i can spend extra time making it extra good #i might also just say fuck it and write whatever #whos to say

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larchraven · 3 years ago

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SHATs RPS week: Shatsome Smexy Saturday

Title: Hot and Ready

Ship: Sips/Trott/Ross/Smith (Shatsome)

Rating: Gen

Wordcount: 1.5k

Description: Two pizza parlors, both alike in dignity....in fair Bristol where we lay our scene...

Content details: An AU that Ghost and I came up with because the town I go to for my grocery shopping has two pizza places RIGHT across the street from each other. Thus, an AU was born.

Ghost even made logos when we were first talking about this. Please thank them for coming up with the name of the Hat's pizza place :3

I really did want to write some porn for today, but while thinking about my ideas they were way too long and complicated for me to write while I feel this awful. Hopefully (hopefully) I'll be changing up my work schedule soon so I'll have longer weekends which hopefully (HOPEFULLY) might mean I get to write more. No promises, but a bird can dream, right?

Thanks to everyone who posted stuff this week, it was really nice and made me very soft for all the love still in this fandom, however small ;w;

__________________

Trott sipped his still scalding coffee, peering out through the front windows of Pizza Hat at the street lit with bright late afternoon sun. He usually showed up to work just before the dinner rush, and today was no different. Time to check in with Ross and Smith about the early portion of their open hours, and drink a rushed cup of coffee before all hell broke loose.

It was also a good opportunity to try to catch an eyeful of the owner of Sips’s, their across the street rival in the pizza business. Trott squinted, trying to see through the other shops front window to no avail.

“Trott, mate, I know the depth of your crush on the enemy knows no limits, but we could really use some help prepping all these damn vegetables over here,” Smith yelled at him over the music from the kitchen.

“My shift doesn’t start until four,” Trott said absently. He burned his tongue a bit on an overzealous drink of coffee.

“But you’re here now, so make yourself useful, come on mate!”

Trott sighed, wishing once again that today would have been the day that he’d worked up the nerve to actually go over to the other shop and say hello, rather than walking past with lingering eyes.

Ross tried, and failed, to hide a smug smile as Trott walked past him where he stood, folding boxes by the register.

“Stuff it Ross.” He put down his insulated mug of caffeine by the register with a bit more force than was necessary.

“I said nothing!”

“It was all in the expression.”

“It’s cute Trott. In a desperate, pathetic sort of way.”

In the months since they had opened shop, business had been good. They seemed to have established themselves in a niche left empty by Sips’s, staying open later and catching the students from the nearby university and bar goers needing a grease fix. Their ice creams also drew people in, with no other business nearby. Their lunch line was present, if not as long as their rival’s. Sips’s offered sandwiches along with the pizzas, and he had a dizzying array of vegan and vegetarian options on top of the carnivore staples. Trott felt good about it, and that good feeling had been completely unfettered until the afternoon that he had decided to try out one of the sandwiches from the man across the way before he headed in to work.

It had been a mistake to open the door that afternoon in nothing but his pajama bottoms. A mistake made exponentially worse due to the fact that it was no mere delivery boy who carried two of his biodegradable eco-friendly containers in one hand, and a cold bottle of soda – perspiring and dripping onto the floor outside of their apartment – in the other. Trott had not ordered a soda, nor a small personal sized pizza. And Trott had not expected Sips to be the one standing on the stoop, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Checking out the competition?” he had said that day.

“I didn’t realize you were so hard put that you have to make deliveries yourself,” Trott had quipped back.

“Oh, I never make deliveries usually.” Sips had said, holding out the food and drink. “But I figured this one was special.”

“Lucky me.”

“Vegan Barbeque pizza and a soda with your sandwich. My treat.”

“You really shouldn’t have, there was no need to come over here to this shithole yourself.”

“But I did.”

Trott had tipped him exorbitantly, handing over the money and shutting the door with an abrupt goodbye before Sips had had a chance to argue about the bills he’d been handed.

Since finding out about it, Smith and Ross had refused to let him know peace.Their relentless comments ran the gamut from remarks about sleeping with the enemy to a newfound fetish for retirees. Trott countered with reasonable statements about how running two restaurants with overlapping but distinct menus did not enemies make, to the fact that Sips was not that old and was still very much working. It didn’t do any good, and seemed to only add fuel to the constant loving jokes from his partners in business and pleasure.

Resigning himself to the task of prepping vegetables to the tune of mild heckling from Smith, a problem he himself had caused when he insisted they diversify their vegetarian options, Trott tied on his red apron and picked up a mandoline.

Humming along to the music that played through their aged stereo, only loud enough for himself, he set to work. Smith let him be, apparently contented with his brilliant remarks earlier. He even patted Trott’s shoulder as he walked past to join Ross at the front, as if consoling Trott for his heart’s futile whims.

Up to his elbows in onions, Trott had a bit more on his mind than the conversation Ross and Smith were having. He didn’t notice it had stopped until he heard a familiar voice that sent a bolt from the top of his head straight down to the soles of his worn and tomato sauce stained shoes.

“Hi boys.”

Trott whipped his head towards the register. Wearing a baseball cap with the words “THE GUY” embroidered on the front, still in his flour dusted apron, was Sips himself.

Ross and Smith looked back at Trott simultaneously. He glared at them, and they turned back around hastily.

“Can we get you anything?” Ross was the one who regained his composure first. Smith’s neck was looking a bit redder than it had a moment before.

“I was hoping that maybe you guys would be willing to do me a trade.” He held up a paper bag, hidden until that moment behind the counter. Trott abandoned the onions, and hurried to wash his hands. “Some sandwiches for a couple pints of ice cream. The air con broke over at mine, and the boys in the kitchen could use something to cool off.”

He set the bag on the counter, pushing it towards Smith and Ross. His smile broadened a bit as Trott appeared from the kitchen.

“Hi Trott. Well, how about it? If you’d rather I pay, I’m more than happy to give the sandwiches as repayment for Trott’s generosity tipping the other night.”

Ross and Smith exchanged looks. Not that they would object to his sucking off the occasional delivery man, but he didn’t need to endure Sips jokes of a whole new nature.

“We’d be happy to trade,” he said, since it seemed like Ross and Smith had most inconveniently finally found an ability to shut up. “What flavors would you like?”

Trott picked up a fresh scoop and waited as Sips leaned on the glass ice cream case with crossed arms, looking up at the list of flavors.

“How many will you let me have?”

“As many as your guys can eat.”

“That’s a dangerous offer Trotty-too-hottie. Let’s go with four? Double Chocolate Chunk, Triple Berry, Cookie Blast...and Vanilla.”

“Vanilla?” Trott paused packing down ice cream into the little cardboard tub.

“I like vanilla. What can I say? I’m an easy guy to please.” Sips winked at him. Trott was pretty sure he heard Ross swear, but he was too busy focusing on acting as aloof as possible to care.

“Nothing wrong with the classics.”

He dropped the used scoop into the metal container of water, bagging up the ice cream with a handful of plastic spoons and napkins in one of their plastic bags with the shop’s logo.

“You’re welcome any time Sips. We’ve recently added a number of vegetarian options to the menu, and are working on a vegan ice cream or two, if you’re ever interested in trying them.”

“Why thank you Trott. I just might have to do that.” He plucked one of the paper takeout menus from the counter.

“Trott.” He tipped his baseball cap, and Trott had to close his eyes for a beat too long to keep from sinking to the floor. “Trott’s boyfriends.” He repeated the hat tip, and left the shop in stunned silence.

Trott crossed his arms, looking over at Smith and Ross. They stared at the door still.

“Ross..?” Smith left the question that followed hanging in the air.

“Yeah. Yeah I get it now. I understand Trott’s obsession.”

Trott barked a laugh.

“You mocked me!” He shouted, gleefully. Pointing. “You’ve mocked me for months!”

“Yes Trott, and we’re very sorry. You’re right about the hot old man,” Ross said, as if his contrition could stop Trott’s vindication.

“Oh you’re not getting out of it that easy, either of you! No, now I’m the one who laughs!”

“Trott, anything we can do to stop you from this self-righteous tirade?”

“Chopping all those onions,” he said, full of vicious glee. “Might help.”

Smith heaved a sigh, and retreated to the kitchen. Ross handed him his tumbler of coffee, and Trott, self satisfied and a bit shaky with the adrenaline of the whole ordeal, abandoned them to stew in their misery.

Trott sat down at a table in the window, watching Sips walk back across the street with his bag full of ice cream, and resumed drinking his coffee. He waved back when Sips raised a hand before disappearing back inside his restaurant. Smiling to himself, Trott took a long and satisfied drink of coffee, now at the prefect temperature.

#i did it #*lays down*#now i need a nap or i am NEVER going to make it through staying up all tonight #ill post these to ao3 shortly for those that perfer to read there #rps #shatsome #hatsfic #yogfic #raven fic #sorry no porn.......#i could not come up with anything that would have been a reasonable amount to write.....#just imagine smith and ross having frustrated sex in the walk in

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