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goron-king-darunia · 1 month ago

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Richter and Emil "10. “Please don’t make me socialize.”" for the meme :3

Gonna be real, this prompt also caught my eye. Let me give it a spin. How to Develop Social Skills (Modern-ish AU, Teen Audience, M/M, Canon-compliant character death [Aster is still dead in this universe.] Also I'm writing a holiday-themed story in March! I play fast and loose with the fantasy elements so in this universe Ratatosk and Emil split well before Richter busted the otherworldly gate and Richter and Ratatosk beat the shit out of each other until everything was all better without dooming the world. Because of Verius plot bullshit powers and because I say so. No betas, my audience are my betas and we die like Aster on Tumblr.com.)

Richter grimaced over the rim of his glass, sipping on punch he could tell was spiked by the smell alone. He was going to need all the liquid courage he could get. Emil, for some godforsaken reason, had decided that the best way to repay him for ‘all the kind things’ he’d apparently done was to drag him along to one of the Zelos’ many parties.

“You don’t really have a lot of friends, and the only reason I do is because you taught me that special motto.” The boy was obnoxiously cheery. Especially for someone who, despite his own best efforts, was also averse to social situations. He’d bonded with most of these people trying to put the world back together, and now that their quest was over, he had to learn to relate to them on a more social level as well. Despite his obvious hesitation to mingle with anyone but Richter so far, Emil at the very least seemed genuinely excited to have a chance to rub elbows.

Richter couldn’t share in that sentiment. Not one bit. He’d known most of these people as adversaries, and while Emil was nauseatingly easy for him to get along with, he dreaded having to make nice with people who, if they’d even give him the time of day, he was sure he had so little in common with. The Chosen had both lived exceptionally different lives compared to the average, at least from what he’d heard. Then for the remainder that actually shared his half of the planet growing up, there was a ninja and summoner from a secret village, the president of one of the broadest-reaching companies in all of Tethe'alla, and a girl – woman? – with an eerie wisdom and strength that didn’t suit her delicate form in the slightest. The only person he thought he could carry a conversation with would be Seles, the quarter-elven half-sister of the chosen Zelos. But from what he knew, the conversation wouldn’t quite be a happy one and Seles herself seemed much more intent on spending time with her beloved brother than with most of the other party guests. The other chunk of guests from the Sylvaranti side of the world included The Chosen of Regeneration’s best friend – boyfriend? – Lloyd Irving, a young man Richter only knew from the other end of a blade. He supposed they had a commonality in fighting style, but that wasn’t exactly a topic of conversation suited to a party. Then there were the Sage siblings. While it would be nice to get to know them a little more, interrogating them about the half-elf experience on their side of the planet wasn’t exactly a happy topic either. Then of course, there was Marta, and though his animosity toward her was mostly incidental, her being the bearer of Ratatosk’s core and all, even if he had anything else in common with her, she rubbed him the wrong way. Bubbly, assertive, and at least a hair spoiled, even after all her work to save the world.

The only person he had any inclination toward talking to besides Emil was Rilena. And that was doomed to be painful. Sobbing over a death wasn’t exactly a warm and fuzzy holiday pastime.

“Do I really have to be here?” Richter asked, watching as Zelos’ butler, Sebastian, walked by with a platter of festive canapés.

Emil frowned. “You haven’t even tried talking to anyone yet! The party’s only just started!”

Richter groaned. “And I’m already uncomfortable.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Emil offered. “But… the only way I made friends was because–” “–Courage is the magic that turns dreams into reality.” Richter nodded, frustrated but knowing. “Not sure that applies here.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’m not afraid of them. I just… don’t know how to relate to any of these people in a way that won’t ruin the party.”

“Sounds like fear to me.”

“It’s really not.”

Emil shrugged. “Well, whatever it is, I’ve felt that way too. I was afraid of being hated just for being me, like what happened in Luin. Afraid of saying the wrong things and upsetting people.”

“Fair enough. And I looked down on you for that. But to be fair, as much as I disliked the timid you, you at least had reasons to be uncomfortable. You actively got attacked for the crime of being Emil Castagnier in public, just because Decus’ involvement had you 'slandering’ Lloyd’s name.” But the more Richter thought on it, the more he couldn’t deny the parallels Emil was drawing without meaning to. He himself had also been abused just for being a half-elf. But it just felt different. And as much as his brains shouted at him that the circumstances weren’t at all the same, that his reasons for discomfort made this a situation where he ought to pull away but Emil’s situation required courage, he just kept sitting with the nagging sense that it wasn’t true, not at all. He sighed, slugging down another drink. “Please. Don’t make me socialize.” He knew Emil was right. He knew he was being, at this moment, the exact bitter, angry, shy, small, loathsome little kid he’d been all those years ago, before Aster. But the child inside him was so scared and so loud that he couldn’t drown it out. Not even with Aster’s motto. The grating cognitive dissonance was preferable to trying to make friends with this particular group of people.

Emil clapped a comforting hand on Richter’s forearm. “I won’t make you, but… when I couldn’t be brave for myself, you were brave for me. You helped me. So it’s my turn to help you, okay?” Richter’s gloves squeaked against the crystal of his wine glass as his grip tightened ever so slightly. “Just… go easy on me, kid.”

*~*~*~*~*

Emil stayed close for the early evening. Richter avoided most conversational responsibilities by just nodding along with whatever the blond was saying and keeping his mouth occupied with food and drink. He was particularly fond of the poinsettia canapés which seemed to be some sort of smoked fish slices laid across a puff pastry filled with a creamy, pale cheese with a blend of herb seasoning and capers dusted on top. If he was honest with himself, even if the entire rest of the evening was a bust, the food was pretty great.

But as the catching up and appetizers began to slow, the scheduled activities began. And Emil, evil, terrible Emil, volunteered him to partner up with people. He glared absolute daggers when, out of nowhere, while pairing up for building gingerbread houses, Emil’s hand shot up and “Richter would like to be paired with Genis!” While there were worse partners, as Richter would quickly learn, he wasn’t keen on participating at all, let alone with a practical stranger. But everyone else seemed more than happy to play along with Emil clearly speaking for him. And once everyone was paired up, Richter had no choice but to communicate as the timer began. “Erm. Right. So I’ve never done this before.”

Genis nodded. It made sense. “Luckily for you, I have all the tricks up my sleeve. If we’d gotten to bake our own gingerbread, we could beat everyone else here with taste alone.”

Richter wasn’t so sure about that. “If I had to bake my own ginger bread for this, the Chosen wouldn’t have a kitchen anymore.” Genis burst out laughing. “You can’t be worse than my sister.”

“I assure you that I very much can be.”

“Well, don’t worry too much. I’d compensate for you, and besides, they started us off with everything, so it should be fine. I’m going to need your hands here for the structure.” Genis had already added extra sugar to the icing to make it extra thick and was massaging the piping bag as he got to work laying the foundation of icing to stick the walls to the cake board. “If you can hold your sides steady for a minute, I can put the ribbon on and clean up the edges.”

“The ribbon?” Richter had never done this before but he was pretty sure most gingerbread didn’t have ribbon on it. “Shh, not so loud. You’ll give away our strategy.” Genis unspooled some decorative ribbon from the centerpiece on the table and used it to brace the walls together before laying some down across the walls and frosting around it to set the roof in place, tying the slanted pieces together so they had just enough support to stay in place while the icing set. “We’re already coming out way ahead of the pack like this.” Genis carefully cleaned up the edges so they had pristine walls to work with. “So what are you thinking for design? Classic peppermint? Icing icicles?”

Richter shrugged. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have an opinion.”

Richter nodded and tried to contribute. “Well… what are we being rated on?” “Best design overall, best in creativity or originality, best environmental storytelling – though that usually goes to Colette and her salvaging disaster results.” Richter nodded again, vocalizing his understanding with a soft hum and fiddling with some of the extra gingerbread pieces in the box. He slid two flat cutouts together to assemble a fir tree base. “And we have a time-limit and only the pieces in our boxes, correct?”

“We can trade with other people, but for the most part, yeah. Everybody starts off with roughly the same stuff. But if you’re after color-work for a theme or something, trading with other people is absolutely encouraged.”

“Right.” Richter laid out a sheet of scrap paper. “I’m not much of an artist, but since you know how to handle the construction part, I’ll try to handle design.” He scrawled for a bit, sifting through the box of candies for inspiration. “Taste, uh, isn’t a factor, right?”

“No, not for winning, but I would prefer to keep things edible as much as possible so please don’t put any mistletoe on this, I’m begging.”

“Noted.” That certainly hadn’t occurred to Richter, but the oddly specific request seemed to indicate that this had been a problem before. He was mostly referring to whether or not he ought to use the licorice provided. Though based on past experience, Richter was sure even with the best of ingredients that he could somehow manage to make even a prefabricated gingerbread house toxic somehow.

He went with a classic red and green, though most of the candies were in that category already. Gumdrop fencing and bushes, sprinkles as a stand in for string lights, candy coated chocolates for roof shingles, candy cane pillars, marshmallow snowmen, icing with food coloring for little scenes drawn on the windows. The real stroke of genius was the sour candy ribbons for bunting and the crushed peppermint cobbled paths.

Genis cooperated, more than happy to just have a competent partner in the game. “Should we add a frosted pattern to these bare edges or use the negative space to contrast something else?” and “Should we decorate the gingerbread men or break them up for other details?” were his main contributions to the discussion. Most of what he had to add was a wordless exchange.

By the end of things, Richter was surprised at how much he’d actually handled. Granted, collaboration required communication. But even in such a context, he hadn’t expected the words to come easily. “I think that went well.”

“You’re saying that like its a surprise.”

“Well I’ve never–”

“You’ve never done that before. I know. But if you start a new task worried about the results, you’re just going to psych yourself out. These things are supposed to be fun, you know? Just let go of expectations and give yourself a chance.”

It was good advice. “I’ll… try.”

They voted anonymously with little tokens slipped into paper boxes, but results wouldn’t be until the end of the evening.

In the interim, there were other diversions.

Richter appreciated having a break with some of the more competitive games that didn’t require too much communication. There was a version of beer pong but it was sinking marshmallows into solo cups, a similar but sillier game that involved a bendy straw and paper muffin liners where the objective was to float the paper liner into a cup, and a mechanically different game with a similar goal: rolling coins toward overturned forks with the intent of getting the coins to catch upright between the tines of the forks. Richter wasn’t much good at the games, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t particularly interested in the goodie bags anyway. There was plenty to eat freely available without having to fret about a little extra candy.

But, much to his chagrin, Emil also made it a mission to volunteer Richter for other cooperative games.

“I think Richter would love to do the candy cane game with Presea!”

Richter knew to expect it this time. From the very moment another cooperative game was announced he knew Emil would sign him up to partner with another stranger. And for the first few attempts at the game, Richter was almost glad Emil had gone with one of the quieter guests. That is, until it became clear that this game, despite relative simplicity, required much more talking than building a gingerbread house.

The objective was straightforward: With each team member holding the opposite side, use the ribbon provided to hook candy canes strewn across the table and maneuver them into the mason jars. There were a limited number of candy canes and if they fell off the table they were out of play. Any team that filled their three mason jars could claim a prize, and the prizes were first come, first served. Sheena and Raine absolutely decimated everyone else while Zelos and Colette were kneecapping everyone including themselves with the highest candy cane casualties so far.

Richter was able to get the basic hooking part down pretty easily, slipping the flat bit of the ribbon taught against the table and easing it under each one was easy and wordless. It was getting them into the jars that was the problem. Presea didn’t telegraph her thought process at all, and whenever Richter thought they finally had a handle on it and she seemed to be leaving the minor adjustments to him, she would over correct for minor movements, dropping the candy canes back onto the table with a very dull “sorry” between attempts.

Alas. He had to use his words. “This won’t work without talking, huh?” He squatted down again, shimmying the ribbon under another candy cane.

Presea hummed in a way that seemed like she understood.

“I’m taller so I think we should try for the jar closer to me first, after that it’s going to be easier to slide the others toward you.

Presea nodded.

"Put your hand over your head. Please.”

Presea raised the ribbon. “Hold still.” Richter guided the candy cane down the ribbon until it was over his jar. “Let me level out. Good. Okay, now let’s get a little lower so the tip is in the jar. Okay, now bounce.”

K-ting! The candy cane dropped into the jar.

“Now for yours.” With the same finesse, the second candy cane dropped into the jar.

The middle jar took more back and forth. But with Richter giving direction, they finally managed one of the last 3 candy canes.

Emil was more excited for their victory than either Richter or Presea.

“You did well.” Presea mumbles, fishing through her goodie bag for a chocolate covered wafer cookie in the shape of a gingerbread man.

“Oh. You can actually talk.”

“Yes.”

Clearly she was a woman of fewer words than even Richter himself. “I… almost thought you couldn’t.”

“Talking is… difficult. Finding the right words can be hard. It’s easier… when someone else takes the first step. But if no one does, you can’t move forward.”

“I… suppose so.”

“Having friends that you can be quiet with… is almost as nice as having friends you can say anything to. Thanks for… being patient.”

Richter blinks. “I… you’re welcome.”

The next game involved a sort of jenga-like physics puzzle where the basic objective of the game was to slip pieces of cardstock out from under each cup in a stack, so that the cups, one by one, settled and stacked onto the cup below. Each team member had to pull at least one card from the stack for each attempt.

Emil decided, this time, to have Richter pair up with Zelos. Richter was done being upset by the blond match-making. Unlike the previous game, the cards and cups were allowed to be reset if toppled, but the entire tower had to be put back and your team had to start over. Colette and Sheena flew out of the gate with an excellent performance, and several jokes were tossed around about Colette’s fortuitous klutziness and Sheena’s inexplicable talent for falling into holes. It seemed like some sort of in-joke Richter didn’t have context for. Zelos ran his mouth a mile a minute, trying to teach Richter the “proper” technique for getting the card stock to pull away cleanly but Richter just couldn’t get a handle on it.

“You’re rushing too much, my guy. Fast but not that fast. Watch again. It’s not like that tablecloth trick you see magicians do, it’s a much more lateral motion.”

“I don’t think it’s your instructions that are the problem. I just… don’t have the experience to make my body move like that.” “Don’t overthink. I promise it’s not as hard as it looks.”

Richter growled. “Again. That’s not the problem.” He made another unsuccessful attempt at his pull.

Zelos set the cups up again. “Do you need me to hold your hands?”

Richter made a sour face. “Please do not.” He tried again and bungled it.

“C'mon, man. You can get one, I believe in you.”

“This is stupid.” Richter tossed the cardstock. “I’m never going to get it. Might as well forfeit. Half the teams are already done.”

“We don’t give up in this house.” Zelos set up the cups again. “Again. We’ve got all night. I don’t mind losing, but I don’t accept quitters.”

Richter huffed. “It would be easier if you could shut up a minute and let me breathe.”

Zelos held his hands up in a pearl clutching gesture. “You wound me. I want you to try, but it’s not that serious.”

Richter thumped his fist down on the table. “I didn’t ask to be bad at it, okay? I am trying, you know?!”

“… Dude. Chill.”

Richter rubbed his temples. “I’m sorry. I’m just… frustrated and tired and the alcohol is already starting to hit me pretty bad and I’m just… not going to perform well.”

“I didn’t ask you to. I just asked you to try.”

Richter let out a long and weary sigh. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You have to suck at stuff to get good at stuff. Nobody’s laughing at you. Just try. You can definitely do it.”

Richter stared the problem down for a long while, trying different ways and speeds of pulling. None of them worked. There was just too much friction at play and he didn’t have the experience to manage it. But Zelos had mentioned street magic, the way the tablecloth tricked worked and how that was a different sort of strategy but for the same effect. He was sure he had seen something similar at a bar, once. About earning a free drink by upending a mug of beer that was already upside down on the bar. And that got him thinking of that prank with the money pinned flat against the table under an empty bottle and having to remove it without touching or tipping the bottle. Could that work? He decided to give it a shot.

He pounded his fist, gently, quickly, against the table. Little taps that just barely rustled the cups. And with a quick swipe, the card was out, and the cup toppled gracefully onto the one below, slipping into place.

“Holy shit. You did it! Nice going!” A congratulatory high five and Zelos set to work getting the rest of the cups to fall into place.

They finished last, but Richter would be lying if he said there wasn’t a small sense of pride at completing his objective.

“I told you you could do it, man.” Zelos clapped a hand on Richter’s shoulder.

Richter tried to accept the affirmation gracefully. “Thanks. For believing in me. Even though it was a completely wasted effort.”

“No such thing. It’s just a party game but even if it wasn’t, there’s no shame in having to learn and fumble your way through things. Fucking up sometimes is part of the process.”

“I guess so. I just… don’t really like doing things I know I’m not good at. Especially with people counting on me.”

“Pretty sure you tried a half dozen new things today at least. Doing things you’re not sure you’re good at is the only first step there is toward doing things you are actually good at. Sometimes biting the bullet is all you can do.”

“Maybe so.”

The final cooperative game for the evening was sorting candies for your team’s color out of a bowl using a straw. Each team had two participants and an even number of candies to collect and an equal number of candies to sort through with two cups and two straws to use in the process.

This time, Emil let Richter choose his partner. And while he was sorely tempted to go the easy route and pick Emil or Rilena, he decided on Seles.

“I should warn you. I don’t have the best constitution, so I may need breaks.”

“I didn’t exactly crush the last game, so it’s fine by me.”

Accommodating Seles did make for slow progress. She was careful and deliberate but it was clear that even the relatively small amount of suction needed to keep the candy attached to the straw was taking a toll.

“Are you alright? If you’re getting winded that easily, maybe you should take a break.” Seles shook her head. “Stuff like this is good for my lungs. Doctors say so. I was a lot better before when I had my Exsphere, so with practice I’m sure I can improve.”

It made sense, but Richter didn’t want Seles struggling just for a game. “If you say so. But in that case, maybe we should split the labor. At some point we’re going to be rooting around here for our color, and we have two cups, so… why don’t I sort everything that isn’t our color into one of these cups and leave fishing our color out to you? That way you can take breaks when you need it and you don’t have to waste breath fishing up the wrong pieces.”

“I think that should work.”

They completed the task second out of all teams. Once Seles got the hang of targeting the broader face of the candies head on and dead center, things got a lot easier. “Thanks for helping. You’re actually really good at the game!”

“I’m not that special. It’s just physics.”

“Yes. But you still did the lion’s share of the work there. You picked up a lot of my slack. I couldn’t have finished that quickly on my own” “It was only natural. You needed the extra help. So I helped you.”

“And if I can learn to accept help when I need it, you can learn to take a compliment. Being a team is all about accommodating and enhancing each other’s strengths and compensating for each other’s weaknesses. Acknowledging your partner’s achievements is important for proper teamwork.”

It made sense. “As you say. Then… thank you. You did very well, too.”

“Thanks!”

The end of the evening brought more casual conversation. Richter found it a bit easier this time as he rejoined Emil. He was able to contribute more to conversations and even made an effort to thank Zelos for hosting and thank his teammates for their great efforts.

When the results were tallied for the gingerbread house judging, there was very little surprise with the results. Colette and Regal took the prize for best environmental storytelling as predicted, with a spin on the Wizard of Oz and the house that fell on the Witch of the East. As usual most of their walls didn’t hold up, despite Regal’s best efforts to thicken the icing properly, and Colette had had a happy little accident with her gingerbread men that just worked out seamlessly.

Richter was genuinely pleased when Emil and Raine took the prize for most creative execution. Raine had bartered with Colette and Regal for some of their broken bits and they cobbled together a very effective annex to their main gingerbread house, though the final product was licorice and red hot heavy and the icing set brick hard making the final product borderline inedible.

The only real surprise was placing himself. “Genis and Richter, for best overall design! Congrats you two!”

Emil insisted on a picture and Genis was happy to oblige. “For a first-timer, you really knew what you were doing.”

“I– thanks. You were a great help. You executed the stuff in my head better than I could have alone.”

“Don’t mention it! It’s easy to execute a lot of stuff with a solid foundation and you really helped out. You had great ideas and it was fun to bring those designs to life.”

“Couldn’t have done it without your structure. You saved us so much time.”

“Yeah, but now I’ve got competition for next year.”

“Only if I remember all your little tricks.”

“I’d say you got a pretty good handle on a lot of things today.” Genis gives a knowing smile. “I think it’ll all be even easier next year.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

*~*~*~*~*

Guests trickled out as the event came to its conclusion. Emil and Richter stayed back a while longer with Colette and Lloyd to help Zelos clean up.

“So… did you end up having fun?”

Richter snorted. “In a way. Definitely not a relaxing evening. But I suppose my idea of a relaxing evening would have been a boring way to spend a party. So even if it was absolute hell on my nerves, I am glad you talked me into coming.”

Emil beamed. “Good. I’m really glad you had a fun time.”

“It’s still a little embarrassing having to piggyback off of your already established friendships.”

“You have to start somewhere. Making things a little easier on you by having you socialize with friends I know and trust is way nicer than just turning you loose in a room full of strangers to fend for yourself though, right?” “If you ever do that to me, I will actually go through with killing you.”

“You would never.” Emil smirked.

“You’re still a piece of Ratatosk. I could be easily convinced.”

“I could be twice as evil as him but you’d still never.”

Emil could read him like a picture book sometimes. “You shush.”

“You know it’s true.”

Once the majority of the trash was bagged up and the decorations were removed and the last of the food was packed up in doggy bags, Emil and Richter made their way out with a few quick goodbyes.

In spite of everything, Richter thought that he could get used to this new, uncomfortable normal. Bit by bit, the sharp edges of social situations were being sanded down. “Hey, uh, Emil?”

“Y-yes, Richter?”

“Thank you… for dragging me along tonight. And… thanks for talking the others into going easy on me.”

Emil blushed. “You could tell, huh?”

“By the end it became kind of obvious. Pairing me up with people to progressively challenge me to come out of my shell and actually… confront my discomfort.”

“Did it work?”

Richter shrugged. “I think it’s too soon to tell for sure. But even if it doesn’t stick, it at least made tonight… fun.”

“I’m glad. Like I said, things only worked out so well for me because of everything you did for me! So if I can help pay that back, even a little, then it makes me very happy.” Emil started heading off, but Richter caught hold of his hand.

“Emil?”

“Huh? What is it Richter?” “You’re. Um… You don’t… have to pay me back. Even though we finished things as enemies and had to… start off all over again… even as a part of Ratatosk… Everything I did for you it’s… I’d do it again. A thousand times. I would do it all again.” Emil blushed more before a thought crossed his mind and his brow furrowed. “Because… because I remind you of him?” The idea took Richter aback. “I– no. It’s… more that you remind me of… me. Who I was a long time ago. Who I retreat back to being when I’m out of my element. I’m… I’m actually really proud of you. You make it look easy.”

Emil squirmed. “It’s nothing, really. You… make things feel easy.” Emil lingered for a moment.

Richter repeated that mantra, psyching himself up as his fingers curled around something in his pocket. “I, um… Emil?”

“Yes?”

The words stuck like peanut butter. But the gesture was clear. He fished out a sprig of mistletoe he snagged from the party decor and held it aloft.

Emil went holly red. “O-oh.” He twisted his hands through his scarf.

Richter was just as nervous but… “It’s… only if you want to. I understand if not. I know you still… think I only like you for the wrong reasons. But–” Emil closed the gap. “No. I’m sorry for thinking that. Even if things started that way, you’ve… you’ve always treated me as me. Even Marta took a while to do that. It only started feeling that way once I knew… who I looked like. And even if you were only ever nice to me, b-because of him… that would have been alright.”

“Emil–”

“I know it isn’t. It’s just… going to take a while for my heart to catch up with my head on that.” He looked up at Richter.

“Is it… still alright if I–?” He didn’t need any other words. Emil leaned in, up, pressing his lips to Richter’s. They were chapped just the slightest bit from the cold, dry winter air. But they softened, just as Richter melted into him, around him, embracing him. Maybe there were worse things than awkward parties…

“Awww!” A sickly sweet cooing erupted from the doorway. Colette crooned the loudest.

Richter yanked himself away, trying to compose himself. “Sorry, that was delightful but I am never going to a party again, okaybye,fuckin'leavin'now.” His words blended together as he scurried off as far as he could get from the absolutely embarrassing situation he’d just made for himself.

And all Emil could think was “Damn. I need some fuzzy handcuffs for Christmas.”

#actualaster #DotNW #fanfiction #Richter Abend #Emil Castagnier #art by GKD #writing by GKD #my writing #this took 6 hours with only a couple breaks #5k words but felt longer #still one of the fastest works I've done in recent memory and one of the shortest #I don't usually oneshot so doing something bite-sized for the writing juice was fun #Will eventually edit for AO3 but for now I shall sleep

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