Multi-Dimensional

by ceilingfan5

Summary:

You want some fuckin minifics?

All previously posted on tumblr, most under 1k. Posting until I run out, tags in notes of individual fics. Hope you enjoy!

Notes:

Taakitz soulmate au with a twist. I got excited about lighthouses...

Chapter 1: Safe Harbor

“Lighthouses,” the tour guide drawls, “Aren’t just pretty pictures on calendars. They’re a beacon in the darkness, symbols of hope, all that jazz. But they’ve also literally got a job to do, even today.” 

His name is Taako, and unlike the other lighthouse keepers Kravitz has seen on this tour his moms dragged him into, he’s about Kravitz’s age, and he’s beautiful. Kravitz hangs on every word, even though a lot of them are recycled from the other tours. There’s only so much a guy can learn about lighthouses. He tried to tell his moms this, but they just laughed and kept taking windswept pictures. He’s almost ready to thank them, though, for the privilege of getting to spend the better part of an hour in Taako’s intimate radius. 

There’s not a lot of personal space in a lighthouse. 

“You lot seem familiar with the poetry. I’ll skip the rest. This gorgeous beastie has been around for almost two hundred years, despite the ocean’s best attempts on her life. And she’s got something special.” 

Kravitz read the pamphlet, but he asks anyway. 

“What’s special about it?” 

“You can divine the future from all the damn bird shit on the ground,” Taako deadpans, and then laughs at his own joke. Kravitz laughs too, so incredibly, foolishly charmed. “Nah, it’s a whole thing. Every lighthouse has got a characteristic, yeah? A pattern for the light so you know who’s who and where’s where? This one’s characteristic is a flash of one, one-two-three-four, one-two-three.” 

Kravitz blinks. 

“Cool?”

Taako grins. Kravitz’s moms look at each other and laugh. Kravitz had almost forgotten they were there again. Taako holds up his fingers as he spells out:

“One, four, three. I l-o-v-e y-o-u.”   

Kravitz’s cheeks burn about as bright as the giant night-light above their heads.His moms awwww behind them. 

“They were actually going to change it, and the community got way upset, like, ahh, I took my soulmate here when we first dated, you can’t do that, so they didn’t.” 

“Wow,” Kravitz says, fully aware he sounds like a big dumb idiot. “Love wins.” 

Taako snickers. 

“Yeah, guess so. Hey, you crew wanna see the top?”

“Oh, I don’t know if I can do the stairs on this one,” Raven says, and Istus nods as seriously as she can manage. “My knees, you know.” 

Traitors. Or wingladies? The world may never know. 

“I’ll go with you,” Kravitz volunteers. “It’s. Cool to see the view.” He doesn’t like heights. This is a lie to talk to a pretty boy for a little bit longer. But Taako grins and leads him up the terrifying stairs, so...he wins? Taako rattles off more facts as they spiral upwards, seemingly more excited now, and Kravitz tries not to swoon, because those stairs forgive no sins, no sins whatsoever. 

“So you’ve already been on a few of these tours, you’ve probably heard all the hot deets, you know, about tallow versus lard and wicks and glass chimneys, right? Fresnel lenses and all that?” 

Kravitz nods, which he realizes Taako can’t see. 

“Yeah, they’re also in, um.” There’s so many fucking stairs. “Car headlights.” 

“Smart boy.” Kravitz gets the firm impression Taako would be winking at him if he could. His cheeks burn even brighter. He’ll guide the ships back home with his fucking face. “So I won’t bore you with all that. But I will bore you with this--did you know magic likes significant places?” He doesn’t wait for a response, mercifully letting Kravitz just climb the stairs. “And high places, too. The grip of reality is thin. And you know, sometimes, sometimes you can see things.” 

Kravitz figures if he sees anything funky, it’s probably his body warning him he’s about to pass out after climbing up God’s asshole, but he keeps that to himself. Taako seems to believe it. Kravitz will pretend it’s a real thing for Taako. Gorgeous Taako. 

“You don’t have a soulmate yet, do you?” Taako finally gets to the top, and he turns and offers Kravitz a hand. It feels incredibly significant. He takes it, of course, and Taako helps him up to the very top of the lighthouse. The eye of the beast glitters brightly as it slowly turns, massive and celestial in a way that leaves Kravitz reverent. 

“No,” he says, editing out what gave it away, the fact that I’m on vacation with my moms?

“Cool,” Taako says, with a gap-toothed grin. “Check out that view.” 

Kravitz doesn’t want to look at the view, but obediently, he turns, and he sees the world and the ocean spread out before him, glistening and inviting, and he squeezes Taako’s hand tightly as vertigo grips him by the guts and shakes him like a doll. His life flashes before his eyes--no, not his life, another man’s life, and he’s out on the sea in a little fishing boat, and he’s made the worst and definitely last mistake of his life. The storm is rolling in like a train made of pea soup, and he knows, knows deep down in his soul, he’s going to die. There’s no way he’ll find the shore again. 

And then he turns, and there’s a light in the darkness, hope against the hopeless sea, flashing once, four times, three times. His love is guiding him home, and he paddles like his sorry life depends on it. And it does. He crashes on those vulturous rocks, and he imagines he’s gone and died after all, and he wakes up in a tiny bed, a man with beautiful eyes bringing him something to eat. 

“I do feel awful about your boat,” he says, in a familiar voice. “But I knew you’d come back to me.” 

Kravitz hurls back to the present and almost loses his clam chowder lunch about it, but Taako steadies him. Those eyes, those familiar eyes, glittering like the sea, they guide him back to reality. A beacon of hope, and all that jazz. 

“What did you see?” Taako begs, absolutely thrilled. “Did you see your soulmate?”

“Yeah,” Kravitz whispers, so lightheaded and terrified and confused and happy he could just combust. “Yeah, I did.” 

Chapter 2: Romance with sprinkles

Summary:

Taako runs a bakery and Kravitz is the tattoo artist next door. Taako tries to woo with tasty treats, but there's a problem...

“I didn’t know the place came with a handsome neighbor,” Taako crows, peeking out the window of his new bakery-cafe at the tattoo shop next door. The Raven’s Nest is small and staffed by only a few people, one of whom is the hottest motherfucker Taako has ever laid eyes on. “Hot boy, fresh out the oven. Steaming.” 

“Maybe you could bring him something. A cupcake or a macaron, maybe?” Ren, his business partner, leans casually against the counter she’s just finished wiping down for the day. 

“You’re a genius. Box me up something that says ‘date me, like, ASAP’.” 

“What color do you want the frosting to be?” 

“Not literally, you fucking fiend! I don’t want to creep the guy!” 

“He says, staring at tall, dark, and handsome through the window, again.” 

“I take back the genius title and I am putting it in my pocket and sending it back to the factory.” 

 Ren laughs. She puts a few tasty little petit fours in a larger box and ties it with a ribbon. 

“You want to write your number on top, or are we taking it slow?”

“You’re not involved! There is no we here! But, no, no, if he wants me, which, obvs he will. It’s a known fact of the universe that I am delectably wantable. But if he wants me he can walk fifteen steps to the left of his job, and there I’ll be. Available, but not too available. It’s the perfect crime.” 

Ren just shakes her head, and she goes about setting things up for opening in the morning. 

It’s funny how nervous Taako is. He knows his shit is good, and his face is handsome, and he’s a delicious fucking catch for anybody, even such a hotboy as this one, but his heart is pounding like he’s been crab-walking a marathon in a bikini all day, and he doesn’t want to look sweaty for his first impression. He steadies his breath at the door, and then he walks in under the cheery jingle, smiling like he knows a sexy little secret. That’ll get him good. Got to. 

The hot tattoo artist looks up from the till and nearly spits his coffee. 

“Hey sailor,” Taako says, layering warmth in his voice like a fine little lasagna. “My bakery just opened up next door, and I thought I’d come round and meet the neighbors, share a few little treats.” He winks. The guy swallows his coffee hard and puts down the cup like it’ll kill him if he even thinks about getting another sip. His eyes are still a little too wide, which Taako has no objection to–they’re the most gorgeous deep brown he’s ever dreamed of sinking into. And those cheekbones, and that hair, done up in perfect braids and tied into a loose bun. God, what a hottie. “I’m Taako, by the way. You know, like on the sign.”

“Kravitz,” Kravitz says. His voice is hoarse, presumably from the coffee, but hopefully from just how handsome Taako is, and his subsequent realization of his goal in life and/or purpose in the universe. “Charmed.” 

Taako sets the cake box down on the counter and leans against it, taking a calm glance around to assure himself that he’s not in the way of any customers. 

“So tell me, stud, what’s the skinny on this place?” 

They chat long enough that Ren comes and gets Taako so that they can close up the shop, and the next day Taako peeks through the windows, trying to tell if the cake box is gone, but that pretty little pink container of goodness is still sitting in the same place. Taako frowns. 

“He didn’t eat my shit.”

“Maybe he just didn’t throw away the box?”

“He should have taken it home and hidden it from his coworkers so he could have it all to himself! What gives!!”

Taako takes another box of goodies over that night. And the night after that. He sees Kravitz’s coworkers eating the treats, but never Kravitz.

This becomes his goddamn white whale. 

“So what kind of treats do you like, hm?”

“Oh, you know,” Kravitz says, rubbing at his neck. “Yours are so good. I can’t even choose.”

Taako narrows his eyes. 

“Pick three and I’ll bring you some more.” 

“Oh, you really don’t have to, Taako! I really appreciate it, but surely your customers want to pay for those things you keep giving us for free!”

“End of the day treats that don’t sell are totally fine to give away.” Taako folds his arms. “You’re doing me a favor.” 

Kravitz looks unreasonably sweaty. 

“Wouldn’t you know it, I have to go puncture a man, sorry?” 

Taako tries again the next day, and the next. Ren tells him to cool it, but he can’t let it go. He makes Kravitz a little cake, the most perfect thing he’s baked in years, and he brings it over during the day, instead of at the end. Kravitz looks up from the till and swears under his breath. 

“Taako,” he says, with a fruit salad of mixed emotions sliding down his face. Taako hopes he was the one who threw the bowl. “Good to see you.”

“Why don’t you eat my fucking treats?” Taako says, completely out of energy for subtleties. Kravitz winces. 

“It’s, Taako, your treats look wonderful. Amazing. I wish I could eat them, honest! I’m just– I’m allergic to eggs.” 

Taako makes a dialup noise. 

“You’re-”

“You were so excited about bringing them over, I didn’t want to tell you and ruin things. But- But Sloane and Barry have loved everything you’ve made!” 

“You dim fucking, dull ass walnut!” Taako is so frustrated he actually stamps his foot on the tile, like a child. “I could have been perfecting my vegan treats for a month now!”

“You can make vegan cake?” 

“Oh my god.” Taako rubs his face. “Oh my god. I have so much research to do. I’m going to make you something you can eat. You poor, deprived sonuvabitch.”  

“Thank you?” 

“And then when you eat it and don’t get sick, you owe me a kiss.” 

“I do? I mean, not that I’m opposed- I- Realy, do there need to be rules, about, us, you know, hypothetically kissing?”

“Absolutely. But don’t you fret, my handsome little friend. You’re going to usher in a whole new era of Taako’s patisserie with your bare hands.” 

“I’m still back on the kissing part, actually?” 

“There’ll be time for that later. I have to go bake all night. See you later!”

“Can’t we kiss now? Taako? Taako, come back, what do I do with this cake? Taako?” 

But Taako is too busy huffing the delirious thrill of fresh new beginnings. Romance, take two. Let’s go.

Notes:

thanks for your comments!! they mean a lot to me!

Chapter 3: Interlocking Pinkies

Summary:

childhood au boys all grown up realizing something important

“I knew I’d find you here.” Kravitz takes a seat on the swing next to Taako’s and tries not to look at him. He doesn’t like being witnessed when he’s sad.

Taako doesn’t say much, just kind of drags his feet in the bark beneath his swing. Kravitz aches for him, wants to fix everything for him. Kravitz wants Taako’s life to be easier, even a little bit. But what can he even do?

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you they closed Burger Hut down.”

“Place was probably rat-infested, anyway,” Taako grumbles.

“Take that back, those rats were good fucking cooks.” It’s a sad attempt at levity, but Kravitz knows Taako. He’s known Taako since they were toddlers, and Taako always wants an excuse to laugh. He knows he’s aching right now, too. Taako hates change. That’s kind of why Kravitz didn’t tell him. He didn’t want him to avoid coming home from college because their old hangout spot was leveled. They hardly see each other now, and every little moment is precious.

It’s hard being in love with your childhood friend even when he doesn’t live 300 miles away.

“You’re right, I trained under those rats. They made a mean Suspicious Borger Sauce.” Taako doesn’t laugh, but the mood gets a little lighter. Kravitz is on the right track.

“We can find a new spot to hang out. Plus, there’s always our other spots. I mean, you’re always welcome at my house, and there’s the library…”

“I know, but…” Taako sighs. He pushes himself back a little and the swing takes him minutely back and forth. He keeps dragging deep ruts into the bark with his feet. “That was our spot for just us.”

“Yeah?” Haha, uh, why is Kravitz’s heart pounding?

“Yeah.”

Kravitz finally looks at him. Taako looks away. Kravitz’s heart pounds harder. Is…is Taako blushing?

“It just feels like…all the good bits are going away. And…and…I don’t want to lose that shit.”

“I’m still here.” Kravitz’s voice is so soft he almost doesn’t hear it himself.

“But things aren’t like they used to be!” Taako blurts, and he covers his mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“I used to be able to spend every day with you, and fucking, half the nights in your room, and we- we were always together, and it wasn’t a whole Thing, and- and now it feels like we’re both so different and far away, and I’m fucking- I’m scared I’m gonna lose you like everything else, and there will be no reason for me to come back at all-”

Is it raining? Kravitz’s face is wet.

“Hey,” he says. His throat hurts. He doesn’t know what to say, how to get it out. “You’ll…you’ll always have me.”

“What if I don’t? I’ll be alone! You know I can’t fucking handle being alone, not after-”

“I know.” Kravitz swallows. “I know you better than anybody. And you know me. You know, Taako, you know I’d never leave you.”

“Your mom told me you were dating.”

The hurt in his voice nearly levels Kravitz like the Burger Hut.

“Well.” He swallows again, around this fucking rock in his throat. “Did she tell you how badly it was going?”

“No. But I’ll bet they all love you. You’re too hot to be single.”

“My ex said he couldn’t love me because I was in love with somebody else.”

“Oh, so you’ve got two fucking boyfriends?”

“No.” Kravitz takes a deep breath, and he reaches over and takes Taako’s pinkie in his, heart pounding. Their arms dangle between the swings. “A long, long time ago, I buried my heart in a box with every secret I had.”

Taako looks up. There’s no way he wouldn’t remember the month they spent building their time capsule, or the private little ceremony in the rain, or the trouble they got in for digging in Raven’s garden. There’s no way Taako wouldn’t understand the seriousness of what Kravitz is admitting, when he knew what else went in that box and never saw the sun again.

“Are you saying-”

“You know it’s the truth.” He squeezes Taako’s pinkie with his own.

“Are you-” Taako is reeling, and he plants his feet on the ground to steady his swing. “You- you- and you have since then?”

“My whole life,” Kravitz whispers.

Taako squeezes his pinkie and takes a deep breath.

“Me too,” he says.

Kravitz nearly perishes right there.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Man, we’re fucking stupid, huh?”

“Yeah.” And they laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and if they kiss in the park with the fervor of two idiots who’ve been waiting their entire lives to do it, that’s their fucking business.

Notes:

thank you for your comments!!! it helps so much

Chapter 4: Going Pink

Summary:

Who should appear on Kravitz's doorstep at 1am but his famous ex, Taako? Originally in two parts.

Notes:

tender intimate gestures, forgiveness, some allusion to mental health challenges

There aren’t a lot of sounds anyone wants to hear at one in the morning, but a knock at the door is definitely a top contender for the worst. Kravitz actually holds still, like maybe that’ll throw the person off and make them go away, but they knock again, and Kravitz is forced to anxiously sneak a peep, hissing under his breath.

“Who the fuck-”

And he nearly passes out. He throws open the door, wishing a moment too late he was in more than a bathrobe and boxer shorts with laser cats on them, and he whispers, so as not to potentially further disturb his neighbors, 

“Taako, what in the god damn-” but he can’t even finish that, because Taako sees him and fully starts to cry, which is a shock in itself. “Fuck- I- come in, I guess?” 

Taako is an absolute mess. He’s soaked from the rain to the point that it’s passed cinematic and gone full dunked cat, and he’s holding a heavy grocery sack and a pair of very tall boots. He’s barefoot. His makeup is smeared all the way down his face. 

It’s been a year since Kravitz saw him anywhere but on TV, and it should be weird for a number of reasons, but Kravitz can’t help it, seeing him so wet and miserable. He pulls him into a hug, and Taako shakes with sobs, gripping his bathrobe tightly. He’s even skinnier than he used to be, and Kravitz’s heart aches for him. 

“Come on,” Kravitz whispers. “Let’s get you warmed up.” 

They get him wrapped up in one of Kravitz’s biggest, fluffiest towels, and he shivers at Kravitz’s kitchen table as he waits for the kettle to boil. Kravitz doesn’t push, yet. He doesn’t ask. Two cups of tea with extra, extra honey, and a warm washcloth for his face. Clean clothes for him to change into, much too large. He always did like to disappear into Kravitz’s hoodies. It doesn’t seem quite right, now. Time does funny things to people, relationships. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles finally, and his voice is so small Kravitz could choke on it. 

“I guess I hope you’d do the same for me?” Kravitz winces. It’s maybe not the friendliest thing he could have said, but he didn’t want to open things up by prying. Then again, he feels like he might be owed even a discounted explanation. “Taako...what-” Taako closes his eyes. He looks so different without the makeup. Younger. Kravitz switches gears, picks out the important bits. 

“Taako, are you safe?” 

“I...” Taako squirms. “I don’t know. I…” He looks at his hands, at the chipped black nailpolish on his bitten-down nails. Kravitz thought he’d kicked that habit. 

“I didn’t even know you were in the city. I thought you lived across the country now.”

“I do. I did. I-” He takes a shaky breath. “I don’t know. I was here for an interview.” 

“For a job, or-”

“Some stupid fucking gossip show.” 

Kravitz knows the one. He bites his lip. He can guess what happened--the host pried too deeply, and Taako panicked, maybe because he was already in a rough spot. He ran, and on autopilot, came back here. Even though…

“I’m sorry it’s been a year.” Taako won’t look him in the eye. Kravitz doesn’t push. 

“Me too.” 

“Are you...are you-”

Kravitz doesn’t see how that’s any of Taako’s fucking business. But he doesn’t lie. 

“No. I’m not dating anyone right now. Are you?”

Taako shakes his head.

Interesting. 

“So,” Kravitz nudges the bag. He didn’t mean to look, but he was dying of curiosity. “What’s with the hair dye?”

“I, um.” Taako swallows. “I...I can’t stand myself anymore. I want to be someone else, for a little bit.” He drops his eyes to the carpet and his voice to a whisper. “Would...would you help me? I know I don’t deserve any kindness from you- I- I know I shouldn’t even be here, but-” 

Kravitz takes his hand. Taako looks at him, eyes wide like a frightened animal. 

“Of course I’ll help you, Taako. I’ll even cut it, if you want. But you’re going to tell me the whole story.” 

 

 

“Pink, huh?” Kravitz scoops hair dye onto Taako’s long hair and carefully slides it through. It smells funny, kind of like bubblegum flavored toilet cleaner, and it’s stained his gloves good and proper. “You know I got my cosmetology license out of the bottom of this box, yeah?”

Taako snorts, looking particularly silly with the towel clothespinned around his shoulders and his hair full of goo. 

“It’s gonna be fine. It- It’s gonna be great, even. I needed a change, and this is a change, and it’ll feel- good. And different.” He sounds like he’s reassuring himself more than Kravitz, and Kravitz kind of has to give him credit there. He’s always been kind of shit at self-soothing. 

“Yeah,” Kravitz says softly, pulling the dye all the way to the ends of Taako’s bleached hair. He tugs softly, kind of fondly. “It’s gonna be alright, Taako.” 

Taako sighs, shaking a little, and Kravitz finishes putting the hair dye in in silence. He wraps it up and slips on the shitty disposable plastic shower cap to give it time to process. He carefully slips off his bright pink sweet-nasty gloves and snaps them like a surgeon that just got done carving up a fairy-thing, joining the three whole boxes of hair dye in the now very full bathroom trash can.

And finally, he can’t stand it anymore. 

“Taako, why are you here? We both know you can afford a proper dye job from the best stylists in the country. And it’s been a year. I- I thought you moved on to...bigger and brighter things.” 

Taako’s shoulders try to swallow him up and almost choke on his bones. 

“I, um,” he chews his lip in a way that makes it look like it’s going to come right off. “I- Maybe, um, maybe I should start with...I’m sorry?”

“Couldn’t hurt.” Kravitz leans against the counter and folds his arms. Taako stares at the fluffy bathroom rug. 

“Well. I am. I’m- Krav, I’m so fucking sorry. You know that, right? I- I never meant for things to get this bad, but they did--it was just one thing after another-- I thought the job would be a good idea, and I was so scared of long distance and I got prickly-”

“That’s one word for it.”

“And- and I thought it would be easier to rip off the bandaid than lose you slow-”

“Taako, you know-”

“I know! I know you would have been good to me even from a thousand miles away, okay? But I was scared, and stupid, and my head was full of cotton candy and bees, and it turns out bees can’t fucking live on cotton candy and it’s just a bunch of sticky dead bees up there now, and-” Taako chokes back a sob, and Kravitz sighs. He reaches out and takes Taako’s hands. 

“So tell me about the job. How’s showbiz?” 

“It’s-” Taako laughs, a harsh sound that doesn’t quite feel right. “It’s not exactly what I expected, Krav, there’s- there’s a lot of pressure, and I know that sounds fucking stupid, like, everybody wants to be a star, like, I should be so lucky, but-”

“But it’s gotten hard again, yeah?” Kravitz squeezes his hands gently, and Taako’s lip wobbles. 

“Maybe.”

“I saw your nails.”

“Fuck your falcon eyes.” Taako shakes his head, smiling a little.

“And after this, I’m making you dinner. A proper one.” 

“Krav...” 

“Listen,” Kravitz says, firm, but emotional. “I know how you get when you’re stressed. I have eyes. And I know how that interview probably went. They poked too far, and you got defensive, and let out too much, and panicked, right?”

Taako is very quiet. 

Kravitz aches for him. He shouldn’t step back in time like this. That open wound hurts too much to poke at it. But just because they broke up and Kravitz’s heart shattered into little pieces doesn’t mean he wishes Taako ill. They could still be friends. He was the one who tried (desperately) to keep things going, but Taako got scared, and he clammed up and isolated himself. And to a certain point, with him all the way across the country, there wasn’t much Kravitz could do to push that stupid boundary. 

“Taako...” Kravitz checks a strand of his hair, and decides to process it a little longer. “You know I don’t hate you, right?”

Taako cries. 

“You should,” he manages to get out, between big painful sobs. “You should hate me. I deserve it. I fucked everything up.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t. End of story.”

And he holds Taako, hoping not too much dye gets on his bathrobe, until it’s time to wash his hair out. 

It’s tricky to position things, Taako’s head in the bathtub, Kravitz beside him with the shower head hose, but Kravitz shampoos his hair and scrubs it good, watching in silence as the pink circles the drain like Barbie Psycho. Taako sighs as he massages his scalp, doesn’t say a word as Kravitz rinses with just-warm-enough water over and over until it runs as clear as the box stuff can. It’s intimate, and gentle, and familiar, and it hurts and heals and it sets a bone neither of them realized was still broken. 

Quietly, Kravitz pulls him up and wraps Taako’s hair up in one of his shitty towels, drying his face as tenderly as he can allow himself to. Taako flutters still-wet eyelashes and sniffles, and Kravitz, again, as always, like it was yesterday instead of a year ago, gets lost in his beautiful eyes. 

“You don’t have to-”

“No,” Kravitz says, barely a whisper. “I don’t.” He leans closer, but at the last second, he kisses Taako’s forehead instead of his lips. Even so, it feels terribly, sorrowfully natural. How quickly things unchange. 

“You can sleep on the couch, after you eat something,” he adds, to break the silence, to shatter that look in Taako’s eyes hurting for something he threw away. “I’ll get you some blankets.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” And Taako gets up, and he heads to the kitchen. Kravitz follows him, but not until after he’s looked at his pink-stained hands for a long, long time.

Notes:

sorry I drove to visit my parents and I was like oh fuck it's Thursday
anyway thank you for the comments, they've made a hard week easier

Chapter 5: Domestic Indulgence

Summary:

Domestic taakitz

“This world was not built for one such as I,” Kravitz laments, catching his ugly plastic glasses as they tumble right back out of the cabinet he tried to haphazardly shove them in. He’s emptying the dishwasher, only because he’s finally decided to use it again, and he’d fully forgotten he had so many fucking dishes. Listen, he loves his ridiculous thrifted mug collection, but it’s not like his dehydrated ass is using four different cups a day.

“Is that Shakespeare?” Taako doesn’t look up from whatever delicious black magic he’s taken over Kravitz’s kitchen with. Kravitz isn’t the kind of guy to personify object, he pretends, but he imagines it must be excited to be used for something more complex than microwave dinners and good old fashioned blue-box. Thrilled, even. Elated. Maybe that’s just Kravitz’s stomach.

“No. Kravitz.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous.” Taako snorts. “They’re just dishes.”

“The cabinets aren’t big enough!” Kravitz protests. “Imagine a family living here. What would they do?”

“It’s a one-bedroom apartment, homie. It’s barely meant to fit you.”

“And barely meet it does indeed. If you think this is ridiculous-”

“I said you were ridiculous, loverboy.”

“You should see my closet! I’ve gone up a size since we started dating-”

“Good!!” Taako points a rubber spatula at him accusingly. “You and those trash rectangles you eat needed a fucking come-to-jesus menu.”

“I don’t think you have any room to point, love of mine.” Kravitz smiles, though, like the sun is shining out his ass, irradiating his formica countertops. And the lower cabinets, which also hold too little.

“Never once in my life have I been accused of hypocrisy and I won’t start recognizing it now.” Taako huffs obnoxiously and goes back to stirring. “But I’m serious, you should move into the shitty old house with me. Been mad empty since Lup ditched me. Just me and the cats.” He leans against Kravitz and sighs. “Alone.”

Kravitz laughs and kisses him fondly.

“I would if I could, Taako, honest. No less honest than the last time we had this conversation. I’m stuck in this fucking lease until May.”

“You’re gonna run out of organs to sell by May!”

“This is true. My rent is atrocious. But my moms are glad I’m safe, and I have a covered parking space, and-” he swipes a taste of what Taako is cooking, and Taako yelps and shoves him away, laughing, and then of course they have to kiss, and laugh, and kiss again, and it’s so fucking domestic Kravitz could cry. If only him from three months ago could see this. He’d have a lot more hope for the world.

“And all that shit doesn’t matter a bit if you aren’t happy, yeah?” Taako puts his arm around Kravitz’s waist and leans against him, focusing on their dinner but sharing his love the way he knows how. “They won’t even let you have a cat. You’re fucking lucky I took Concrete in.”

“To clarify, I am allowed a cat, it would have just cost me $200 deposit plus a $300 fee, plus $45 a month pet rent.”

“PET RENT,” Taako howls, like this is news, like he hasn’t ranted about this easily fifteen times. “Pets can’t pay rent! They’re layabouts! That’s what they’re for!”

“Really, I mean, it sort of makes sense, think of the damage a pet can do-”

“Don’t defend these leeches, Krav. They’re sucking you dry and don’t give a single fuck about it. I may have to mow my own fucking lawn but, Jesus, at least I’m in charge of me.”

Kravitz sighs, and he very, very carefully extricates some plates (actual plates, not the paper plates he uses for 98% of his meals by himself) for their dinner.

“I’m not trying to defend them, Taako, it’s just-- if I can’t pretend there’s a reason, it makes me so upset I can’t sleep at night.”

“Mmm, well. Lucky you have me, and I have ways of making that happen.” Taako kisses his neck, and snickers when Kravitz almost drops the plates. “This stupid apartment may not suit your needs, but I have you covered and then some, handsome. Let’s eat fast, alright?”

“Right- yeah. Yes. Definitely.”

Taako laughs, and kisses him on the lips, and the world keeps on turning, with all its flaws and blessings, balanced in their lopsided way. Rather, we have to believe there’s at least some balance to it all. If that takes a little pretend, so be it.

Notes:

please comment if you're enjoying these little tidbits!

Chapter 6: A Hug Some Might Consider Too Tight

Summary:

The truth (love) almost slips out in an emergency.

Notes:

hospitals, medical, car accidents

Kravitz doesn’t even see them let Taako into the room. One minute he’s letting his eyes unfocus in the general direction of the shitty old TV, and the next he’s being squeezed so tight he can hear his heart rate monitor complain. He gasps for breath, a little surprise, a little pain, and Taako squeezes him harder. 

“I was so fucking scared you died,” he whispers, a prayer to an absent god. 

Oh. That explains the squeezing.

“I didn’t-” he wheezes. Taako keeps on holding him, half up on the hospital bed in a way the nurses will probably tut at, head smushed into his chest. Kravitz’s heart rate monitor sounds kind of rapid. Uh oh. “But, I do need to, Taako, I want the rest of my ribs to stay in one piece, if- if you wouldn’t mind-?” 

“...Right...” Taako mumbles, after an eternity too long, eons too short. He feels the warmth Taako leaves as he retreats, and he wants to hold it close to his heart forever. “Sorry.”

“No, no, I...Taako, this might sound shitty, but I’m glad you care? I was kind of thinking my mom was the only one that would bother to come, and… I mean, it’s been pretty boring since I woke up...” 

“You dumb asshole,” Taako says, without any menace behind it. “You scared the shit out of me. I saw your stupid little blue car on TV at the laundromat and I almost died on the spot, are you fucking kidding? Of course I care- Of course I’d come-” He grabs Kravitz’s good hand and holds it so tight Kravitz becomes incredibly aware of his remaining solid bones. “...What the hell is that annoying beeping?” 

“Oh, uh, just, uh,” Kravitz panics, which doesn’t help. He doesn’t need a nurse to run for his room, but he’s having trouble keeping it under wraps. Taako cared about him enough to catch a bus here. Taako got scared when he got hurt. Taako hugged him, Taako’s holding his hand, Taako’s looking at him with those incredible glittering eyes and all Kravitz can think about are the roses on his passenger seat, vaporized by that fucking pick up truck. Is the note still in his car? Does the reality where he confessed still exist out there, somewhere? 

He could confess right now. 

The beeping, this is incredible, who could have guessed, does not slow down. It, in fact, does a funny little musical number that alerts everyone in the vicinity that Kravitz is having a rough time. There’s no doubt a nurse is on their way to figure out what’s going on. Taako frowns. Yes, Kravitz thinks. This is definitely something to frown about. 

Then again, maybe he should confess while he’s still a little loopy. 

He frets, having a hard time thinking what with the pain and the meds and the Taako, looking him right in the eye with so much concern. What should he do?

What should he do??

Chapter 7: That's What All The Soup Boys Say

Summary:

Taakitz sickfic!

Taako is trying very, very hard to ignore the way he feels about his roommate. It’s a problem, is the thing. It’s standing very much in the way of his scheme to get the powers that be to allow him to actually room with Lup next semester, co-ed rules be damned. Because at the beginning of the semester, Taako wanted to hate him, wanted to hate his fucking guts for coming between him and the only person he’s ever trusted. 

But he can’t hate him. Kravitz is sweet and kind and funny and dorky and a little bit of an asshole in the best way. He’s let Taako copy his notes from necromancy 101 when he couldn’t get out of bed before. And he’s kind of, almost, maybe just a little, wormed his way into the Taako zone of trust. Not that he’s about to tell anyone that. No, he cannot allow himself to have feelings for his roommate. 

He’s failing that about as hard as he’s failing celestial trigonometry. 

Most days, he can at least keep it contained, lock it up in his ribcage like an embezzling bluejay, but today he’s woken up and heard the most fucking miserable sniffles he ever did experience in his life. And he and Lup have been through some shit . 

He tiptoes out to the living room and finds Kravitz burritoed up in a blanket on the couch, looking ashen and nauseous, his arm hanging limply by a box of tissues on the floor. More tissues are scattered near him, and one of his feet is peeking out of the blanket, which he’s staring at like it’s betrayed his whole family and sentenced him to a life of cold pinkies. 

“Hey Krav,” Taako tries, a little cautious. “You been up long?” 

“Mnhh?” Kravitz’s reaction is almost in slow motion, looking at Taako, realizing he’s there, eyes widening. He tries to shove his used tissues into a little magicmart bag and nearly rolls off the fucking couch. He whines as he moves his head, and clutches his temples like they’ve started offering eldritch god services on the weekends. 

“Buddy, and I mean this, you don’t look so hot.” Taako goes and sits on the arm of the couch, tucking the poor bastard’s foot under the blanket as an afterthought. No one deserves cold pinkies.

“M’ okay,” Kravitz mumbles. “Just, I think it’s a cold. Maybe dragon flu. Which one makes you throw up?” He looks at Taako and frowns, like he’s having trouble getting him into focus. Oh, this is just hard to witness. 

“Dog, if you’re under the weather, we’re gonna have to go ring the tornado sirens, ‘cause this is not good, not good at all, and-” Taako jabs a finger in his direction. Kravitz goes a little cross eyed to stare at it. “If you fucking get me sick, I will end you, got it?”

“Maybe you could end me anyway?” Kravitz warbles. He coughs, and whines, holding his head again. 

“Fuck. I can’t believe I have to fucking make you soup.” Taako gets up, shaking his head, and he starts yanking ingredients out of their fridge. 

“You don’t have to.”

“No, I’m gonna.” 

And he pulls out their contraband crockpot and goes to town. His back is to Kravitz, and Kravitz can’t hold much of a conversation, but they chat as Taako chops veggies and thaws chicken stock and so forth, and it’s...nice. He’s nice. He’s fun to talk to, even on the verge of death as he is. And Taako likes him. He likes him a lot. 

Bad, bad, terrible, not allowed at all. 

But instead of disappearing back into his room when the soups all set to simmer, he pulls up the armchair and watches Kravitz’s comfort series with him, a weird and cheesy drama that Taako picks apart and Kravitz, even ailing as poorly as he is, defends like his life is on the line. And when he falls asleep, Taako props his chin on his hand and totally doesn’t stare at him, because that would be creepy, but he does glance over every once in a while, you know, to check on him, and for no other reason. 

He feels awful waking him up when the soup is ready, but the guy needs to warm his sad pathetic bones, and Taako’s got just the flamethrower for him. 

“Hey, Krav. Wakey-wakey.” 

“Mnguhhhh.” 

“I know, I know. You gotta sit up. Hot delivery coming through. You don’t want no lap soup.” 

“Huh?” he asks, but he pushes himself into a sitting position anyway. Taako brings him the little table and a piping hot bowl of chicken noodle, and he watches with great pleasure as Kravitz hesitantly takes a bite, and then begins scooping it down his throat as fast as sickly-possible. “Holy shit,” he murmurs. “This- Taako, this is incredible. Is there- did you- is there magic in here? What spell did you use?”

“No spells, homie. Just plain old folk magic.” Taako cracks his knuckles. “I may not know my notations from my tribulations, but fuck if I don’t know how to make a guy feel better.” 

“Oh my gods, Taako, my sinuses- I- my head- you’re amazing. I think I’m in love.” 

Taako feels an arrow make a meat donut out of his still-beating heart. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he teases, wishing and wanting and yearning and aching. “That’s what all the soup boys say.”

Chapter 8: For You

Summary:

Long distance Taakitz play a video game together.

Notes:

this whole thing is about food. and also for beloved honeycorvid

“It’s you!”

“It’s me.” Kravitz grins from the computer and does a cute little half wave like he always does when they do video calls, and Taako’s heart aches.

He’d give anything to be with him right now, to kiss his stupid handsome face, to flop against him and feel the warmth of another living body that just so happens to care about him very much.

But things are the way they are, and it worked out that their relationship has to go through just a bit of temporary long distance. Short. Brief. There’s an end in sight, no matter how far away it feels. No matter how nauseous Taako gets when he looks at the countdown always running on his phone. No matter how badly he wants to reach through that screen and pull him out and squeeze the breath out of him.

“What’s on the menu tonight, babe?” Taako says, like he’s not writhing in melancholy about the whole situation.

“Funny you should say menu.” Kravitz grins mischievously, and then shares his screen. “Have you ever heard of Cooking Simulator?”

“Already fear is chilling my bones.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Cooking Simulator does not load very well, or fast, and the menu music is fucking deafening, though certainly boppable. It’s kind of silly and kind of charming with a touch of motion sickness thrown in for texture.

“Soooo,” Kravitz draws out. “Love of mine. What should I make you for dinner?”

Taako laughs.

“A burger?”

“Coming right up!” Kravitz calls, and he clicks into the Confectionary kitchen.

“Great sign. Like. Incredible. Super.”

“Have a little faith! You don’t-” Kravitz interrupts himself laughing. “You don’t know- I could be a great cook in the digital sphere, you- you don’t know!”

Taako knows.

Immediately they are met with some issues. Like meat. Meat issues. There is no ground beef in the bakery kitchen. There are no burger patties in the bakery kitchen. There is no chuck, no roast, no turkey to stuff in the blender. The closest thing Kravitz can find, as he whips nauseatingly around the enormous refrigerator stuffed to the gills with eggs and butter and raspberries and entire blocks of baker’s yeast, is bacon. He clicks on the relatively large mound of bacon, which he gets to do individually per bacon slice, and both of them crow with laughter-

“It’s- so fucking small-”

“It looks like a bandaid!! Bacon bandaid! How many- Krav- How many of those constitute a burg?”

“Gonna say six,” Kravitz says confidently, because there are exactly six in the fridge, and he would have to order more otherwise. He immediately adopts and maintains a stupid accent, which doesn’t quite stay in one single wheelhouse, but does make Taako split his sides. “Sounds, um, sounds like a proper uh, patty to me.”

“You’re a monster.”

“You asked for this!”

Taako protests, but Kravitz just laughs, and proceeds to throw the bacon in the blender, along with an egg, for, you know, cohesion, and also flour, for reasons Taako daren’t and caren’t discern. This does not work out.

“Nothing a good attitude can’t fix! Honestly, Taako-” Kravitz snickers and takes the mixture to the mixer, slamming it in and setting it to stun and letting it rip. “You’re gonna love this. This burger’s gonna be so good you’re gonna cream your jeans.”

“Not my jeans!”

The bacon mixture inexplicably becomes a dough. Kravitz carries on and slops it in the oven, in the closest burger shape he can approximate--a little heart shaped pan.

“There are fuckin- there are round-”

“It’s romantical. Don’t unromanticize this for me.”

The heart pan also gets a dough treatment (twice)--“It doesn’t even look like it baked!!”-- and then they’re off to the races. Certainly not horse races, maybe...corgi. Or lizard. Or drunk bicyclists. Because next, well. Next is a problem.

“Kravitz, if you touch that mascarpone, I swear to fucking god-”

“Can’t have a borger without cheese!”

“You explicitly can! KRAVITZ! DO NOT MIX THE MARSCAPONE AND THE CREAM CHEESE!”

“I’m sorry, do you-” Kravitz can barely breathe for laughing. “Do you see cheddar? Some fine- some fine fucking parm-a-sin? Some respectable a-saw-jee-oh?”

Taako is literally fucking crying, and wheezing, and screaming (fuck his neighbors). He cannot abide by this. Kravitz. Kravitz, he cannot abide. This will not be abidden.

AND YET.

“You know what we need?” Kravitz asks, slopping the heart-shaped layers on the cake. Burger. Beef confection. Fuck, it isn’t even beef. Lord above. Christ on a bike. Ring ring. He’s coming through. And he’s blasted.

“Wh-” Taako gasps for breath. “What do we-”

“KETCHIP.” He grapes the bottle of red food dye with force.

“I-”

“Kechpup.” Kravitz slowly rotates the bottle onto the burg.

“Nooooooo!”

“Catstup.” Glowing pink light suffuses their crime. This is not Taako’s idea of what red dye should do to an object, but the game has its...limits?

“I want a divorce.”

“Kep. Spup.” Kravitz chucks the bottle across the digital kitchen, where it bounces off entirely respectable fictional equipment. He paps the top “bun” onto the disaster.

“There. We- We did-” Taako wipes tears off his faces and groans. “We did it. We done did it.”

“I think we should frost it,” Kravitz decides. He pulls out the piping gun and angles for the frosting dispensers on the wall, holding it aloft.

“Time to suckle,” Taako wheezes, and both of them are so lost in the sauce the call almost drops when the laptop falls off Taako’s couch. It takes seven full minutes for either of them to speak complete words at each other, and even then, the nonsense begins again. It takes even longer for Kravitz to actually retrieve and lovingly dispense the frosting, and their sin is done.

“There.” Kravitz picks up the plate with their burger and admires it.

“God, my jeans,” Taako says, voice hoarse from laughing like a buffoon. “Something’s happened.”

“Called it.” Kravitz whips the camera around a few times, and then chucks the burger onto the display area, where it entirely falls apart. “Let’s go to the pizzeria.”

“Great. I want sushi.”

“SUSHI??”

So maybe their call lasts well into the night, and maybe Taako’s bothering the neighbors, and maybe the couch is incredibly empty with only his ass curled up on it, but that love is still there, and still strong, and still absolutely fucking ridiculous. Some souls just match, even if they’re far away.

Notes:

lmk if there's a particular one you wanna see! im just going off of vibes rn honestly

Chapter 9: The F word

Summary:

Teacher Taako and his loverboy

Notes:

really feelin this one today, the day after halloween, in first grade

"Fuck!" Taako's cardigan caught something on his desk and several stacks of paper, library books, beautiful abstract drawings, confiscated toys, flyers, and an open bag of skittles are slipping onto the floor in slow motion. The papers catch the air and fly across the room, joining pencils and headphones and other debris on the floor, and instead of picking it up, Taako just sits heavily in his desk chair and groans. He would put his head down on his desk, but despite the unplanned evacuation, there still isn't room for him there.

"Gosh, Taako, I wasn't aware you could use that word here. What if little ears heard it and melted clean off?"

Taako looks up with a jolt and almost starts defending himself, but he melts into a smile instead. He runs across the room-

"No running," Kravitz teases.

-Walks quickly across the room to hug his husband, and Kravitz quickly puts down the shit he's holding and spins him around, holding him tight. He kisses Taako and Taako kisses back, the tangled knot inside him relaxing and pulling neatly apart. No matter how many times he gets to do this, it won't be enough, it'll never be enough. Those arms are home, and those lips will welcome him every time.

"They're at recess," Taako justifies, stealing another kiss. "Don't worry about it."

"I know. I have your schedule photographed in my phone." Kravitz grins, and Taako’s heart aches about being known. It's not so bad after all.

"What'd you bring me?" Taako bounces on the balls of his feet, and Kravitz laughs, far more musical to Taako's ears than the bucket drumming going on in specials down the damn hall.

"Just a sandwich and a soda. I was getting ready to head to the casino and I saw your lunch bag on the counter, and I was like, ah, shit, Taako's gonna be miserable."

"Oh my god, really? I didn't even notice. Fuck, how did I not forget my own ass this morning?"

"Might help to pour yourself out of bed more than twenty minutes before you need to leave the house. Just a thought." Kravitz kisses his cheek and walks over to the mess, starting to pick up spelling tests and tasteful renditions of rainbows.

"No, that can't be it." Taako makes a little space for his drink on his desk and slips the bag from the sandwich place into his mini fridge. "That plan's foolproof." He watches Kravitz pick things up, admiring his ass.

"You don't have to do that," he adds, as an afterthought. "I could have had the kids pick it up."

"Yeah, but you looked like one more thing was gonna make your head pop off, and I kind of happen to enjoy you in your current layout. But uh, they can pick up the skittles. Unless you think they'd eat them right off the floor."

"Do I care, at this point?" Taako snorts.

"Yeah," Kravitz says, a little dreamily. "You care so much."

Taako's heart hurts. He’s going to have to rip it out and throw it if he's going to make it through the rest of the day.

"I better, uh, I better go get the little turkeys. Do you have another minute? They're always asking about you. I told them you were a 5,000 year old vampire and you were only keeping me around to help you work the microwave and shit."

"Sounds about right," Kravitz laughs. "Sadly I must away, but by nightfall, you will be mine again. This, I svear." He sets the papers on the cozy reading chair and steals one more kiss. Taako aches for a thousand more. "Don't give me that look, I'll be back by nine, okay? You can kiss me again later."

"Yeahhh," Taako whines. "But that's so late. I might be in bed by then."

"Take a nap?"

"Yeah, maybe. Okay, get out of my classroom, or I'm gonna turn you into a science experiment."

"Aye aye, Mister Taaco." Kravitz salutes cheesily and heads down the hallway. Taako leans against the doorway and sighs, and he smiles at his ring, and then he goes and gets his kids and keeps on changing the world, twenty-five little people at a time.

Notes:

tell me which ones you want or im gonna keep posting them as randomly as i want

Chapter 10: Urban Exploration

Summary:

Taakitz go urban exploring in a mall and something unexpected happens

Notes:

Depiction of rot/mold, childhood friends grown up

“Taako, I really don’t know about this,” Kraviz whispers for the fifteenth time. “If we get arrested for trespassing-”

“Why are you whispering? Are you afraid they’ve got security around here still?” Taako laughs. They thread their way through the twisting back halls from the secret entrance Taako found and burst into the mall proper. It’s been closed for ten years and slated for demolition for at least four, and it’s eerily quiet except for the steady drip of water that seems to come from deep within the walls around them. Taako shouts in delight, and it echoes from far away, and Kravitz has a sinking feeling about how all this will end.

Here’s the thing. Kravitz is not into urban exploration the way Taako is. Kravitz is only into Taako, and unfortunately for his dumb gay ass, this is the only time they ever get to hang out alone anymore. It’s nice to have a lot of friends when you don’t have a crush, but having to avoid gazing at Taako longingly when his sister and the others are around is like reading a book upside down while doing jumping jacks, and it’s getting hard to thread that particular needle.

Thing is, Kravitz has been in love with Taako for a long time, but he only just realized it this summer, and that’s made everything weird and strange and tense. But he can’t let Taako know. If he loses this friendship, he loses everything, and he doesn’t know how he can go back to college in the fall with a heart that broken.

So he’s doing dumb shit with Taako even though he knows it’s a bad idea. He can’t say no to Taako. Taako could even ask him to murder a guy and he’d consider it.

They move from the squishy carpeted area, and they crunch over broken glass and chunks of ceiling tiles, Taako recording with his phone and whooping with delight. There’s a weird sound in the air Kravitz doesn’t recognize at first--it almost reminds him of an alarm, or maybe a celestial hum of some avenging retail ghost that never got laid to rest, but the closer they get to the center of the enormous mall, the louder the sound gets.

“Frogs!” Taako crows in delight. “There are frogs in the old fountain!!”

There are also frogs in the defunct elevator, reedy weeds growing strong, a large hole in the ceiling shining sunlight down on them.

“Fuck, this is so cool, Krav. This is so fucking cool.”

“Yeah, cool,” Kravitz mumbles, kind of unnerved. The frogs quiet as they get close, but there’s still that sound ringing in his ears, and he wonders how the little guys got this far into the mall. Did they come in through the hole in the roof? Did they hop down the back halls like they did? Did someone bring them here? Did they spawn, fully formed, to symbolize the takeover of capitalism and the inevitable death of a society obsessed with appearances?

He wishes it wouldn’t be weird to hold Taako’s hand like they used to when they were kids.

Taako explores and Kravitz follows, noting what used to be a Hot Topic or an Auntie Anne’s or a Bath and Bodyworks, and even some older shops Kravitz has only ever heard of because of Taako’s obsession with all this. It is honestly kind of cool to listen to him going off about something he loves, but he wishes he didn’t have to be in this creepy ass video game level of an environment to experience it. He wishes Taako would sleep over at his house anymore. He wishes they could talk and talk and talk into the evening like they used to.

He wishes things weren’t so weird between them. But ever since Kravitz went away to college, nothing seemed to be the same.

Especially when Taako started dating.

The escalator rises before them, divine and damned in its disrepair, all the glass shattered and thickly layered on the extinct stairs. Taako’s eyes widen, and Kravitz’s heart sinks.

“We really shouldn’t...”

“But won’t you regret not going up there and seeing it??” Taako grabs his hand and pulls him in that direction, and Kravitz is too distracted by choking on the heart that leapt into his throat to continue protesting. They carefully crunch up to the heavens, and the frogs restart their chorus beneath them. Light streams down from the fragmented ceiling, and Taako’s face is glowing in his excitement. Kravitz could kiss him. He won’t.

The stairs feel unsteady beneath them, but they hold, and they walk carefully on the sturdiest part of the floor as they continue exploring the upstairs. Kravitz expects to see specters, expects them to fall through the floor, expects the worst and then some, but Taako doesn’t let go of his hand, so he doesn’t say a word. He hopes the chill humidity of the rotting mall excuses how fucking clammy his hands are.

They come to the middle and behold the whole mall and its bizarre sculptures from above, a haunting rendition of the symphony of commerce it used to be, and still they’re holding hands, and Kravitz squeezes Taako’s, not because he wants to draw attention to it, but because he kind of gets it, now.

“It is sort of beautiful, in a freaky way.”

“Yeah,” Taako says softly, smiling.

After a long moment, they move on, Taako moving a bit ahead and testing out the more delicate parts of the floor and laughing.

“You should be more-”

Part of the floor gives way, gravity grabbing Taako’s ankle and sucking him down, and he helps and yanks on Kravitz’s hand. Kravitz gasps and pulls, and Taako staggers back, nearly tipping over the edge, no longer barred by glass. Kravitz pulls him again, terrified, and Taako falls into his arms, eyes wide and heart pounding so loud Kravitz can feel it.

“Holy fuck, are you okay?”

“You saved me??” Taako breathes, and in more heart-pounding news, kisses Kravitz right on the lips.

It’s a wonder Kravitz doesn’t pass out. He kisses back instead.

“Taako-” he doesn't know what to do with his hands, what to say. “Taako, are you okay??”

“I think-” Taako stares at him. “I think maybe we should go home.”

“For sure, but- Taako-”

“Yeah?” Taako looks shaken and pale and excited and terrified. Like he’s afraid Kravitz didn’t want the kiss. Like he’s afraid he’s ruined everything. Kravitz seriously feels lightheaded, realizing, understanding.

“Can we do that again?”

Chapter 11: What if Taako Died

Summary:

What if Taako died in Glamour Springs and got drafted into the Reapers?

Notes:

mentions of death, vomit

Taako feels like chunky volcano vomit. Taako has never had a hangover so bad, has never been so ill, has never felt so wrong. He’s ice cold and heavy and floaty at the same time, like his head is a balloon on a desperate mission to get away from a yanky cranky toddler. He sits up and regrets it. He opens his eyes and regrets that worse.

“Am I fucking dead?” he groans, vision wobbly at best and delusional at present. The most handsome man he has ever fucking witnessed gives him a little smirk.

“Got it one, my friend. Most people don’t quite have the hops to jump to that particular conclusion.”

“Oh,” Taako says, and he lays back down. He’s on the ground, for some reason, and there are other bodies all around him. He tries to remember what happened and his vision goes white and his ears ring like a church with the hiccups at a jingle bell eating contest. “Can I double die, cause I would love for this, uh, for all this to be over.”

“‘Fraid not,” Mr. Gorgeous says, in his incredible voice that wraps around Taako’s better senses and renders them fully null and nude. “Not for you, at least. You-” He consults a foreboding tome, and raises his eyebrows. “You have died nine times. You’ve also been part of a mass-murder, but this takes precedent.”

“Bwuh?” Taako asks intelligently. He wants to lay down, but he’s already laying down. Is there a more down down he can down? Asking for his nuclear fucking brainpan. “Gwah.”

“It’s a bit disorienting, isn’t it, dying?” The reaper offers him a beautifully manicured hand, and he takes it, even if that means being up, which his body and head are both violently opposed to. That much, they can agree upon. His hand is ice cold, but it’s grounding, somehow. “I thought you might be used to it, on number nine.”

“My man, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?” Taako squints at him. “Also, who the fuck, I mean, I get-” he waves his hands. “I get what you do. I can guess your title. Am I supposed to call you Grim?”

“Kravitz will do.” He laughs, and it’s incredibly charming. It’s funny, Taako’s cheeks don’t heat up like they probably ought to.

“Neat. Taako, that’s me. But I guess your dumb book might’ve told you that.”

“That, and much more, although I find myself entirely lacking in cohesive answers. What exactly have you been up to, Taako?”

Taako thinks for a moment, and surveys the carnage around them. “Just cooking. Being famous. No big.” This nets him another eyebrow raise.

“Just cooking? But when- where- Hold on, we’re being summoned.” And that they are, not that Taako understands it a bit. A rift opens up in space and Kravitz helps him to his feet--being in his arms is delicious, and yet would be much more appreciated if Taako felt less like dogshit--and they disappear from dumb old Glamor Springs into a dark, cold, very serious place Taako immediately bristles at.

“My Queen,” Kravitz says, and he bows. Taako might bow too, but he’s not the type, and also he might fully fall over about it. “How can I serve you?”

“Interesting, you’ve found him,” she intones, a bizarre voice made of a thousand voices, raspy and sweet and warm and ice cold. It makes Taako’s head pound like he’s beating the nails in his own coffin with his fucking forehead. “Istus won’t like this, won’t like this at all.”

Kravitz frowns.

“I was just about to book him, My Queen. Then just the remaining-”

“No, that won’t be necessary. He’s special, I think you understand that.”

Kravitz’s grip gets a little warmer for some reason.

“I’d like you to make him your apprentice, for now,” she says, and both Taako and Kravitz are floored.

“What the-” Kravitz stamps on his foot, and Taako elbows him right back. “What the fuck?” he asks, with full conviction, and she laughs, a horrible, wonderful sound like blood and bone and sunshine.

“It’ll come back to you,” she says cryptically. “And that will serve us well.”

“What will-” but, speak of the devil and the devil knows you’re talking shit. Something hits Taako square on, like a train made out of the ground, and he fucking crumples in Kravitz’s arms. Disconnected memories and lives lived and lost flood back to him, and something important, something so fucking important, but just out of reach, and he cries out weakly, which happens to be pretty pathetic in front of hotboy here, but he’s not exactly thinking about wooing. He’s not thinking of much at all.

It stops, after a moment, leaving him with a splitting headache and wide eyes. Kravitz is holding him tightly to keep him off the polished obsidian floor. He grasps at the memories, but they leave him just as they came, with a hearty choo choo, and a headache it’ll take him nine more lifetimes to sleep off.

“So you’ll train him to work alongside you,” the Raven Queen elaborates. Kravitz sputters.

“I- but- he’s-”

And she laughs again, and the space around them folds and disappears in a flap of otherworldly wings, and they’re back in Glamor Springs, and Kravitz is staring at him like a fish that tried to swim in apple cider, and Taako throws up on his shiny black shoes.

So much for first impressions.

Chapter 12: Seasick

Summary:

Mermaid au + sick fic

Notes:

mention of drowning

“There’s something wrong with him,” Taako says, staring intently through the thick plexiglass of the tank. 

“How do you know?” Lup checks the water temperature and makes a note. “We’ve never seen a merperson before. This is all new territory.”

“I mean...look at him. He’s just...laying there.”

“Maybe he’s sad.”

“Maybe.” Taako frowns. “I’m going to figure this out.”

“Ko, we’ve got a lot to learn. You’re not going to figure out everything immediately. It takes time, research, you know-”

“Mhm,” Taako says, putting his clipboard down and walking away. “I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t do anything stupid!” she calls after him. 

I will, he thinks to himself. But that’s the price of discovery. 

He goes upstairs to get to the top of the tank. It used to hold a whale shark, Senator Banana, and it’s more than big enough for one little old fish guy. Taako checks that the coast is clear, which of course it is, considering the skeleton crew they’ve been running to keep this discovery a secret until they’re ready to publish their findings. And he unlocks the tank, slips off his shirt and shoes and he dives in.  

The water’s chilly and the salt stings his eyes, but Taako’s a surfer. He’ll be alright. He swims down deep, getting as close to the merman as he dares. Up close, he really does look ashen and limp. Taako frowns and swims a little closer, pushing his limits. The merman’s eyes snap open and he grabs Taako’s ankle. Something powerful runs through his whole body, something deep and ancient he doesn’t understand, and there’s a blinding pain tearing its way through his head. Taako, startled, takes in a whole mouthful of water, and he has to push off the sandy bottom of the tank as hard as he can to break free and get to the surface so he doesn’t fucking drown at work. 

He coughs and spits up water, clutching the side of the tank for dear life. His head is still throbbing, and he feels like he’s been shaken up. Maybe that’s just nearly drowning, for you. It’s been a while. He sputters for breath and scrubs at his face, and he looks down at the merman, who’s flicking his tail back and forth with something Taako might almost call anxiety. What, is he worried he’s going to get in trouble?  

Taako pushes his wet hair out of his face and considers his options. He could wimp out and go clean the octopus tank, which is what he should have been doing in the first place. Or he could figure this out. 

God dammit, he wants to figure this out.

He takes a raspy breath, and then another, deeper, proper one, and he dives down again, even though he almost just fucking died. Something tells him the merman wasn’t exactly pranking him. He pushes through the saline water and gets down to his level, looks him in those striking purple eyes. 

Oh good, he hears in his head, earsplittingly loud. Even though it didn’t come through his ears. It’s almost like he had the thought himself. You didn’t die. Humans are so delicate.

Taako covers his mouth in surprise. A large bubble comically escapes him anyway. The merman regards it with disinterested humor. 

I know you only have moments, so don’t ask stupid questions. I need your help. I’m not doing well, and I won’t last long. You’ve got to help me. 

Taako nods. What else can he do?

I need to break out of this place.

Chapter 13: In Sickness and in Health

Summary:

Wedding/Sick au

Notes:

tw for alcohol, hangover, vomit

Kravitz thinks of himself as a relatively sensible guy. Somehow, despite this, he always seems to end up in bizarre situations, and this time, he might have really taken the cake.

Not literally. Wedding cakes are so fucking expensive. Did you know this? So expensive. Even breathing is expensive when it comes to weddings. Kravitz is never getting married. If he ever feels the urge, he’s going to take a cold shower and then calculate, by hand, how many burritos he can get for the cost of a wedding while he’s still dripping wet and naked. This is a foolproof plan.

Kravitz likes plans. He likes knowing what’s going on at any given time and what the appropriate reaction is to any given situation and he likes knowing the right way to handle things, which, he’s been criticized in the past, by several different boyfriends, is like trying to get a good grade on every social interaction at all times, like he’s going to be given a report card at the end of a fucking conversation. This is normal to want and possible to achieve. Kravitz is doing great. And all of those guys saved him a lot of money on not having a wedding, so, really, he should thank them for fundamentally misunderstanding him on a level bordering on cruel.

He’s sensible. He likes plans. He wants to know the right answers. And yet? And fucking yet?? He finds himself doing shit like this, holding back the long hair of a complete stranger in the bathroom the night after the bachelorette parties. They aren’t even from the same side of the wedding party--Kravitz is firmly in Sloane’s camp, the best man, in fact, and he’s never met Taako before this week.

“So, you’re Hurley’s friend, right?” He tries to keep his voice soothing, and he pats Taako’s back a little. He doesn’t want to overstep, but he also doesn’t want Taako to be as miserable as humanly possible, which he’s certainly trying to achieve with a fervent vigor most people retain for gambling, or extreme sports. He wishes he had a little pocket guide book for weird situations like this. Turn to page 34 to comfort a stranger. Turn to page 62 for dealing with someone who is attempting to vomit everything they’ve eaten since age five.

“Yeah,” Taako moans. He leans his head, presumably pounding like a DJ scoring a hammer festival, gently against the toilet paper dispenser. “Sorry to drag you into this. You can- mmnnh. You can go. If I die, I die.”

“I think Hurley would be upset if you died,” Kravitz says gently. “You’re under contract until you wear that suit tomorrow. Maybe after that you can schedule a date with Death.”

“Hope it’s not a dinner date.” Taako snickers at his own joke, and then hiccups and covers his mouth. “Fuck!”

“Listen, not that it’s any of my business,” imagine him rapidly flipping pages in his guidebook, looking for the appropriate conversation cue. Interventions in 60 seconds. No? Maybe 25 conversation starters that aren’t about toilets? “But when we ran into each other at the casino last night, you seemed a little...” Flirtatious. Angry. Incredibly wasted. “Distracted. Is something on your mind? Besides the wedding, I guess?”

“Damn, you-” Taako hiccups again, and shifts his legs, groaning. “You weren’t kidding, that isn’t any of your business.”

Ah! Fuck! He’s losing points! What a terrible misstep! How will his grade ever recover!

“I’m so sorry-” he backpedals. “I just-”

“No, I get it.” Taako sighs. “Shit. Um. You know, I’m too hungover to lie to you? Um.” He fidgets with the toilet paper like a cat finding its own enrichment. It’s almost endearing. “Um. Okay. Yeah. I was in a mood. I would still be, if my fuckin’ head didn’t feel like it’s losing a getting-crushed-by-a-steamroller race. I’ll have more feelings later, I guess. Jot that down on your calendar.”

“Noted.”

“I, um.” Taako closes his eyes, shoulders lurching a little again, but Kravitz gently pulls his long, silky hair back from his face, and it doesn’t go further than that this time. “I was supposed to get married this year. And, uh.” He waves the fingers on his left hand, all of them incredibly empty. “Sorta fucked that one up.”

“Oh,” Kravitz says, intelligently. He imagines frantically flipping through his guidebook. Even in his head, there’s no suggestions for this. It’s a picture of a cartoon frog giving a thumbs up. Frogs don’t even really have thumbs. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I can see why that would be hard to deal with.”

“Yeah,” Taako chuckles. “It sucks. I mean, he sucks, and both of us are stupid, and the whole thing is a mess, and I’m glad it didn’t go forward, but it’s.” He covers his mouth, looking green, but his shoulders slowly relax. “S’bad. Badtime. Badtime for Taako.”

“I see that.” Kravitz decides to carefully rub Taako’s back. If that’s overstepping, he’ll take the F. Taako can tell him to fuck off, and he will, and that’ll be that. But between last night and today, he likes Taako, and he feels bad for him, going through something awful like that. It’s got to be real hard, having to be a big part of a beautiful wedding, mourning one that’ll never be, even if it’s better for everyone involved. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone else who makes you happy, if that’s what you’re looking for. You’re very attractive and funny and- and-” Kravitz’s cheeks heat up. That might have been a bit much for sure. He especially didn’t need to keep talking, because the next thing on his mind was how perfect all of Taako’s freckles are, and that’s, that’s a lot. Wrong thing to say in the wrong situation. This is such a mess.

But Taako laughs.

“Yeah?” he says. “Sounds like you like me.”

“Oh, I- um. I.” Kravitz backpedals, pulling his hand away from Taako. His long, beautiful hair falls around his face again, and even as miserable as he is, he looks like some kind of angel.

Can angels puke? Rats can’t. There might not be a correlation there. Then again, what if there was?

“I’m- I wasn’t- You’re- that would be-” he can’t quite figure out how to defend himself.

“Admit it,” Taako sing-songs, his voice still hoarse.

“I could be convinced to like you,” Kravitz mumbles. “I happen, to, uh. Happen to have an opening. In my life. For likeable people.”

Taako laughs again, tipping his head back and smacking it on the toilet paper dispenser. He whines and rubs it, looking positively wretched.

“You’re wild, Krav,” he says anyway. “Soon as I can brush my teeth, I’m gonna find out if those pretty lips are as kissable as they look.”

Kravitz doesn’t have a page in his book for this, but something in the very, very back of his mind thinks that there are more things in life to do with your money than buy burritos. If not a wedding, at the very least, a date is a good start.

Chapter 14: Death Confession

Summary:

I’m dying and I’m confessing my love for you au

Notes:

blood, injury (it's okay he'll be fine)

“My Prince-”

“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Taako?” The Prince puts his hands on his hips and sticks his tongue out. He looks strange in his stolen peasant clothes, a disguise that might not do the trick, with all the gold in his long elven ears.

“My Prince,” Kravitz continues, cheeks burning. “You know I cannot do that.”

“Listen, Krav.” Kravitz blushes even harder. He wishes he was wearing his full armor so he could slam the helmet down and become invisible, like he used to be. But no, the Prince seems fully intent on looking him in the eyes. “We don’t have to put on airs anymore. We’re not at the castle. We’re free!” He laughs and does a cartwheel, ending up on his ass in the wildflowers and tall grass. Kravitz gives him a moment, and then he walks over and offers his hand, which the Prince gladly takes to pull himself up.

“My hero,” he teases. Kravitz is going to wither away before they’re even halfway through this journey. “Seriously though, you don’t have to be mister formal professional knight anymore. You’re just, you know, my-” He clears his throat and glances away as they continue walking toward the village. “My, my friend.”

“You say that, but my duty is still to protect you. You’ve got to be more careful. We don’t know what kind of trouble could be waiting for us out here-”

“And isn’t that the fun part?” The Prince spreads his arms out, still holding Kravitz’s hand. “The palace is so fucking boring. At least out here we get to have some adventure.”

“Take it from me, my Prince,” Kravitz mutters, going on full guard as they approach the treeline. “Adventure is hardly the thrillsome experience you want it to be.”

“I’ve got you,” the Prince says, turning and grinning right at him. “What could go wrong?”

This, of course, is when the bandits attack. Maybe they knew it was the Prince, maybe they didn’t, but there are at least a dozen of them, and Kravitz practically throws the Prince into a tree and draws his sword. He feels naked in his disguise, and the leather armor he has on under it is nothing compared to the plate armor he should have been wearing. He takes arrow after arrow, blasts of magic, but he carves his way through the bastards that would seek to harm his Prince.

He doesn’t let himself collapse until he’s pulled his sword from the chest of the last piece of shit who tried to challenge him at what he does best, and even then, he tries, panting and holding his side, to get back to the Prince to make sure he wasn’t harmed when Kravitz shoved him out of the way. He tries to prop himself up on his sword, and he falls, face down in the dirt, and only then does he take stock and realize--

He really should have worn better armor.

“KRAVITZ-” the Prince shouts, desperate and horrified, and suddenly he’s being rolled over, which hurts more than Kravitz imagines Hell will, and he blinks blearily up at his Prince.

“Are you alright?” he manages, voice weirdly thin. He touches the worst spot and looks at his hand, dripping with blood. That’s no good. The Prince shouldn’t have to see that.

“Kravitz-” the Prince is crying. Is he hurt? Kravitz tries to push himself up, to pat him down for wounds, but he fails to do more than brush limply at his chest. Well. At least that’s all in one piece. “Kravitz, what do I do? There’s- there’s so much blood-”

“My Prince-”

He sobs. Kravitz reaches up and gently touches his face.

“Taako,” he whispers. “Listen to me. You’ve got to leave me here and get to safety-”

“No! I’m not going to leave you!” He clutches at Kravitz’s chest, which hurts even worse, but he’s not about to ask him to let go.

“Can I-” he wheezes. “Can I tell you something?”

Taako nods frantically.

“Anything, anything!”

Kravitz smiles gently.

“I’m in love with you,” he admits. “I have been since I-” he inhales shakily. “Since I first got assigned to be your knight.”

Taako cries even harder.

“I’m sorry.” He frowns. His vision is getting fuzzy around the edges and it’s hard to make out what kind of face he’s seeing. “This is selfish of me to do right now.”

Taako squeezes his hand tightly.

“I love you too. I love you so much.”

“Oh,” Kravitz says. He smiles a little. “Taako?”

“What?”

“Taako...”

When he wakes up, his whole body hurts, and he thinks for some time that he might actually be dead. It’s hard to breathe, and when he tries to get up, he crumples instantly to the floor with a loud noise that alerts someone, who’s instantly at his side.

“Hey,” a familiar voice whispers. “You’ve got to be more careful.”

“Are you alright?” Kravitz asks, squinting at the fuzzy shape in front of him. His head pounds, and his stomach lurches when they move back to the bed.

“Now that I know you’re okay, I couldn’t be better.” And Taako presses their foreheads together and squeezes his hands as tightly as he can. Kravitz sighs softly.

“Taako,” he says.

“Hm?”

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

Chapter 15: Shiver Me Timbers

Summary:

pirate/mermaid au

“Mutiny!” Kravitz snarls, and spits on the sand. This does nothing to help the situation, but it is kind of satisfying. “Can’t believe this. Fucking mutiny. Took my ship and left me to die.” He kicks a rock and stubs his toe, hops backwards and nearly topples over. He swears viciously and debates running straight into the surf to get things over with. Sea goddess, take him, he’s had enough.

There’s a high-pitched noise he almost takes for a seagull--almost--but it sounds too much like a laugh. Now, he hasn’t been on this island long enough for the sun to drive him crazy, so he’s as sane as he was when he woke up this morning, whatever that means. And seagulls may be bitches, but they don’t laugh when you stub your toe on a rock.

Kravitz reaches for his hip, remembers his pistol was taken when he was thrown overboard, and curses colorfully under his breath. Instead, he picks up the rock, and he edges closer to the stony outcropping of the island where the sea stars and other nasty things lay.

There’s a flash of wide, bright green eyes, and a blur of wet dirty-blonde hair, and whoever, or whatever, was laughing at him is gone.

Kravitz sighs, and he drops the rock. He may as well try to find some fresh water on the island, even though he doubts he’ll find any and will surely waste away.

By nightfall, he’s stripped off most of his clothes and given up. He doesn’t even have a blade to hack at the undergrowth of the island, and he’s in a whole heap of trouble. He doesn’t know how he’ll ever get revenge on the low down dirty rotten dogs that used to be his crew. Maybe he’ll have to settle for haunting the lily-livered bastards.

He’s narrating this animatedly to himself as he stumbles over the rocks at the edge of the island, because someone has to keep him company, when he sees a bright flash of green again, and he freezes. Down there in the water, something big is moving.

He doesn’t have a fucking weapon. He looks for a rock, but can’t find one small enough to heft but large enough to be worth picking up, and he bites his lip as the large, mysterious, glittering shape gets closer to the surface. And then there, in the light of the moon, the most handsome person he’s ever seen rises from the water, rivulets sliding off his face, a vision of ethereal beauty the likes of which Kravitz has only ever heard about in stories. And then he pushes himself further up onto the sand below the rocks, and slaps his enormous tail on the water, splashing Kravitz.

He splutters and wipes at his face, and there’s that high-pitched laughter again, and he knows, unless he’s gone and gotten fucking sun stroke, that this is a real, honest the the gods merman, and he’s really dead now. He’s going to get eaten, if those sharp teeth are anything to go off of.

“I’m not much to chew on,” he stumbles out, and then, “I mean, hello.”

The merman cackles and splashes him again. Kravitz sits on the rocks before he slips off and cracks his skull open. He doesn’t need to make it easy for the gorgeous bastard.

“You’re strange, human.”

“That’s what they tell me.” Kravitz rubs the back of his neck. “Are you real, or am I dying?”

“I suppose that’s up in the air, now isn’t it?” He snickers again. “Terrible place to be, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. Do you think we could make some kind of deal?”

“Deal?” The merman cocks his head to the side, his long hair dripping and trailing in the water. His eyes flicker and glow in the dark, and it’s unnerving in a way that sends two very different kinds of shivers down Kravitz’s spine.

“Yeah. You can eat me, if you want, but could you wait until I get revenge on my crew? They left me out here to die, and I think I’ve got some vengeance in order.”

The merman considers it deeply.

“You do look tasty,” he says. “And unarmed. Why shouldn’t I eat you right now, get it over with?”

“Things are more satisfying when you wait for them.” Kravitz doesn’t know why--maybe he’s accepted his fate--but it’s not fear he feels when he looks into those deep, dangerous eyes. “And I, well. I could teach you a few things about humans?”

He laughs again, even louder this time, and his tail slaps the water.

“You’re funny,” he chides. “Why in the world would I want to know more about my dinner? Do you ask cowpets what they like to do for fun before you, what’s the word. Before you cook them?”

“Ah, well. No, not exactly.” Kravitz pushes his hair out of his face, still dripping from the splash. “But the beasts we eat can’t talk.”

“Shame. Smart things have tastier brains.” The merman bares his teeth, needle sharp and almost glowing in the light. Kravitz swallows hard.

“Do you eat all your meals raw?”

The merman tilts his head again.

“Raw?”

“Not cooked.”

“Why would I cook anything?” He laughs. “I live in the ocean, stupid.”

“What if-” a plan is forming now. “What if I could get a fire going and show you how good things taste when they’re cooked? What if I could teach you that?”

The merman considers him at length, frowning.

“Can you really? You don’t seem to have anything useful on you.”

“I can,” Kravitz promises, potentially sealing his fate when he can’t, actually. But it’s worth a shot. “And you’re going to love it.”

“I suppose there’s nothing wrong with playing with my food.” He clicks his tongue, a little curious, a little disappointed. “And if I’m going to wait, I’m going to get bored, and you’ll have to talk to me. So I want to know your name.”

“The dread pirate Kravitz.”

“Taako,” he grins, somehow even sharper now that they’ve got a deal. “Your worst nightmare.”

Chapter 16: And They Were Roommates

Summary:

roommates, cooking together, falling in looooove,

Notes:

fear of thunderstorms, brief alcohol mention

“I don’t even know why we’re doing this.”

“You, sorry. You don’t understand why we’re COOKING?” Taako stops jabbing at the browning sausage to stare dumbfoundedly at Kravitz. Kravitz’s ears get hot.

“Obviously I know what the point of making food is, Taako, but I don’t get why you drafted me into making your dinner.” He goes back to cutting the tomato Taako gave him, worrying about how haphazard the pieces are and whether he’s going to get shit-talked. But does it really matter, as long as he’s careful enough with the knife? 

“Our dinner, roomie. We’re making dinner for us. I’m sick of you holing up in your room and eating that frozen garbage. That first week after I moved in, I thought you were a fucking vampire!”

“Maybe I am,” Kravitz says cooly, scooping his ugly tomato chunks into a bowl. “Did you consider that?”

Taako cocks his head to the side and goes back to poking at the sausage. “Huh. I guess it depends on the kind of vampire you are, yeah? Like, do you eat food? What’s your feral quotient? Can you handle garlic?”

“I very much can handle garlic,” Kravitz says, his stomach growling despite himself. Taako’s a good cook, and being this close to it instead of, admittedly, hiding in his room and practicing the cello is almost intolerable. It smells incredible. 

“Oh, good.” Taako grins at him. “Then I don’t give a fuck if you’re a bloodsucker. You do you, boo.” 

“I’m not your boo, Taako.”

“Not yet, you aren’t,” Taako says cryptically. He takes a long sip of the cooking wine, makes a face, and then uses it to deglaze. 

The food is incredible. Kravitz is even sort of proud of his participation in the cooking process. 

So Taako keeps asking him to help. And, day after day, Kravitz is pulled from his dark room, out into the common area, into goofy conversations and learning cooking skills his mothers never taught him. Getting closer and closer to the sun, which he can also very much handle, he swears. 

He never expected to fall in love with Taako.

It’s inevitable, honestly. Taako isn’t the annoying jackass Kravitz thought he was when he moved in. Or, rather, he is an annoying jackass, but he’s also a lot of fun, too. He’s clever and has a big personality. He’s honestly messy and crass and rude, but he’s also hilarious and...something in the neighborhood of kind, even if he would never admit it. Kravitz stops buying tens of the same three frozen meals, because he knows he can count on his roommate to force him to help cook dinner. And they’re always good dinners. Taako’s an incredible cook, and by hook or by crook, he turns Kravitz into one too. 

Kravitz has never been forcibly cared for before. It’s weird. He’s so used to the dark, the grind, the lonesomeness. He couldn’t have predicted that Taako would pull him out of his isolation, inviting friends over and making him part of game night, making him feel needed and recognized and...loved. It feels good. 

He thinks it’s one-sided, until…

Until.

The power goes out, one day. An incredible, nasty thunderstorm, and Kravitz is in his element. Except their stove is electric, and they can’t make dinner together. They settle for sandwiches, and eat them on the couch in the dark, silent except for the sounds of chewing and thinking. 

“No TV,” Kravitz observes. 

“No,” Taako echoes. “Guess we’ll have to entertain ourselves. You could play for us.”

“You don’t want that.” Kravitz is sheepish. “Our neighbors definitely don’t.”

“Maybe not yet. We’ll see how long this lasts.” Taako sets his empty plate on the coffee table and slides a little closer to Kravitz. Thunder claps, loud enough the shake the windows, and Kravitz sees in the candlelight--Taako is shaking too. 

“Then...we’ll do something else.” 

“Yeah? What?” Taako tucks his knees up under him, pressing up against Kravitz’s thighs. He’s so warm. 

“Sounds like you want something to distract you.” It’s a wager, and it pays off, although Taako doesn’t exactly appreciate being called out. 

“I’m fine. I’m doing great. Maybe you’re not, but I’m super, super cool with thunderstorms and have zero problems with-” Thunder pounds on the windows and growls at them through the panes. Taako jumps, pushing him that much closer to Kravitz. “Fuck- fucking- great, I’m great, having a good time-”

“You’re right,” Kravitz says, going for reverse psychology instead. “I’m sort of afraid of them, though, so I was hoping for something to keep my mind off of, you know...” The wind howls through the vents. Taako squeezes Kravitz’s thigh for support and Kravitz is quite relieved his blush is nearly invisible in the heavy dark. “All this?”

“I can think of a distraction. But you gotta be cool about it.”

“Me? Cool? I’m- me? Super cool.”

Taako snickers, but he goes through with it. He kisses Kravitz. 

The world slows to a halt, and the thunderstorm becomes a lot less important. Everything narrows down to the pure symphony of serotonin Taako is conducting with his tongue, and his hands--one Kravitz wants to notate every single beat of. He forgets to breathe, pulling Taako close and sucking the melody out of him. 

“I thought you’d never-” Kravitz whispers, all caught up in an exhale, and Taako laughs in delight. 

“You still waiting for me to pull you out of your comfort zone? I have to do everything around here.”

And he kisses Kravitz again. 

The storm doesn’t seem so bad while they’re tangled up together. It’s funny, Kravitz thinks...the world is a lot better with someone to share it with. Just like rent.

Chapter 17: villains

Summary:

all of the villains bits (except the horny one) bc they're a bitch to find on tumblr

Taako hasn’t seen much of Kravitz at all lately. Or rather, Flux hasn’t seen The Reaper in a while. Which is fine. They’re enemies. Nemeses, even, maybe. If he wants to be. Taako hasn’t asked him yet, but he’s been thinking about it a lot. Not that he would ever admit that. It’s just that he spends a lot of time thinking about their rivalry, more so than he does of any heroes. A supervillain like him really ought to have something high-profile, but something about this bounty hunter has captured his full attention.

Which makes it all the more frustrating that he hasn’t seen hide or hair of the asshole in ages.

He’s even broken protocols and looked him up by his real name, but that hasn’t netted much, seeing as his identity barely exists. He’s as much the fucking Reaper as he is just Plain Old Kravitz. The guy doesn’t even have fingerprints. He’s certainly not going to have a twitter, or show up in the news, or have any outstanding debts that could be traced. Taako’s shit out of luck until the fucker shows up at his lair and tries to kill him again.

He’s not having feelings about this. Fuck you.

So Taako’s been a little...understimulated. He’s been laying around the lair and sighing. He could be out there fighting dumb old superheroes, but it simply isn’t the same. He wants to fight his rival. Everything else is just background noise.

It’s weeks into Taako’s moping when it happens. He’s moving his moping from the bed to the couch, and the shadows of extradimensional wings flash against his wall and wrap tightly around an object just on the other side of his door, and Taako stumbles away from his pizza bites and transmutes the nearest takeout napkin into a mask. He covers his face and carefully approaches the humanoid lump, startling as it moves, and the shadows dissipate like smoke from another world and the object crumples and what he’s left staring at is the body of his greatest enemy.

Taako blinks, incredulous, and the body groans and slumps a little more, and he pokes at him with his foot.

“You good?”

“Not especially,” The Reaper moans. Taako doesn’t exactly put a lot of stock in religion, but he thanks the gods anyway. He’s at least sort of alive.

“You’re bleeding on my carpet.” Taako gets down to his level, inspecting the wounds, the blood, the almost smoking shadows struggling to pull those wounds together.

“Fuck your carpet.”

That sounds more like him. Taako has to fight a smile off his face. He can’t be showing weakness now. He has to get to the bottom of this. He picks The Reaper up and, slowly, very slowly, he’s not exactly got super strength, but slowly, he hauls him to his guest room. Or. His. Experimentation chamber. That’s it.

The Reaper gasps and clutches one of his many wounds, and Taako almost feels awful for the guy, but they’re enemies. Except, Taako feels like he ought to have been the one to take this bastard down, and any temporary near-death experiences he might be having are entirely unapproved. That’s it. He simply is not allowed to die if Taako- If Flux did not approve of it. So unfortunately, he must do what must be done.

Shame his powers don’t do much in the way of healing. He’ll have to handle it the old-fashioned way.

He starts with removing The Reaper’s armor, thick leather shit that’s hard to get off. He keeps his mask on. Obviously. Even though he knows the guy’s secret identity, not that it’s much of an identity. It’s the principle of the thing. Of course. He’s gotten got in several places, by something more powerful than your average gun. This idiot is practically bulletproof, not out of particular toughness, but seemingly out of sheer will. He shouldn’t have been so fucking weak. Taako hates his guts.

“Stupid bastard,” Taako says, cleaning his wounds. He bleeds like a man, but the darkness keeps trying to curl around him, almost protective. Interesting. Taako would take notes if he wasn’t so fucking busy saving this stupid fucker’s life. “Why did you even come here?”

His eyes flicker a little, and he almost smiles.

“Trust you,” he says, and then he’s back out again. Taako’s so stunned he almost hits him. But he can’t. There’s a weird warmth in his chest insisting he keep doing his best to keep this dumbass alive, so he can live to fight Flux another day. And damn it all, he’s going to go through with it.

Even if it comes back to bite him in the ass.

 

Kravitz wakes up in a lot of pain. He’s disoriented, and in an unfamiliar place, and he grabs for his extradimensional blade and waves it wildly, like that would fucking protect him from that weapon Silverpoint was testing. It’s not a reasonable reaction, it’s all fear.

It’s been a long time since he felt fear.

Reality catches up to him in a few heartbeats and he gasps, clutching his wounds. They’re...not as bad as they were last night. He heals fast, but not that fast, and that shit should have eaten away at him, not let him heal at all. Sure, every ragged breath feels like a hot knife through his delicate bits, but he’s in one solid piece. He should be dead, or captured.

But he’s not.

He looks around--it’s just an unfamiliar guest room, sparsely decorated and a little dusty. And then the bit that doesn’t make any sense at all: Taako, slumped over and snoring gently by the bed, blood on his shirt. Kravitz’s blood.

It’s hard to think, hard to do that math here, but he’s...he’s in Taako’s apartment. And Taako is just Taako right now, not Flux-- no spandex, no cape, not even a mask. There’s one on the floor, discarded in favor of more important things, Kravitz can assume. Taako saved him. Not only that, but Kravitz had one last good portal in him, and he chose to come here. What a stupid motherfucker he is.

He tries to get out of bed and almost passes out from the pain. This is nothing like being shot, like breaking ribs. Those holes went straight through him. He closes his eyes and tries not to throw up, and he slides off of the mattress...and straight onto the floor.

That wakes Taako up with a start and he gasps, looks around, touches his face. No mask. It’s a formality, really, but it’s still breaking the rules. Their relationship thrives on formalities and boundaries, like any proper nemeses. This is uncharted territory.

“You’re awake,” Taako says, failing anything else useful.

Kravitz opens his mouth to retort something rude and ideally witty, but he just makes a pathetic noise. He can hardly breathe, certainly can’t move himself enough to get out of this heap on the ground. Something flashes in Taako’s eyes, probably the urge to make fun of him, but instead of saying anything, he just hefts Kravitz back onto the bed, not without some effort.

“Idiot,” he mutters, breathing heavily. This time, Kravitz has to agree. “I barely got you back together.”

Taako did this? Taako doesn’t have any healing powers. Kravitz would know, he’s got detailed profiles on all of his allies and enemies. So… so… Taako took care of him the old fashioned way.

“Why?” Kravitz manages, still strained.

Taako frowns. It’s so strange, seeing his whole face. He’s gorgeous. Freckled. Kravitz must be fucking losing it from the pain.

“Well, you fucking showed up in my ap- lair, half dead and desperate, and what was I supposed to do, take you to the hospital? No fucking thank you. I mean- if-” Taako won’t look at him. “If anyone’s gonna kill you, it’s gonna be me, obviously.”

There’s something underneath his words, something almost like real concern. Kravitz doesn’t understand. The edges of his vision are fuzzy.

Taako touches his chest, which hurts very, very much, and he swears. His fingers are so warm. Those fingers cleaned his wounds, pulled him back from the brink. And for what? What’s he going to gain from this?

“You stupid motherfucker,” he says. “All my fucking hard work ruined because you wanted to get up… You sit your ass down, and I’ll be right back.”

And he really does leave Kravitz in his spare bed and disappear into his apartment. And Kravitz lays his head back down, the darkness taking over. Consciousness slipping, he supposes. But it’s strange...he may not believe it, but… but he’s safe here.

For reasons beyond his understanding, he’s safe with Taako.

 

______

"Rise and shine. Anybody home?" Taako waits anxiously for his mortal enemy to show any sign of life after the massive hit he took. He doesn't know why he cares so much, but he couldn't fucking let him die.

Life would be so boring, having no nemesis to fight.

"Ghhhhmn." Kravitz, alias The Reaper, stirs, looking limp and disoriented but strikingly alive, despite, despite, despite. Taako shoves down the bright, many-legged feeling crawling up his throat. Hope, maybe, or something worse.

"Hey," Taako says, checking and double checking his mask is in place. "You're alive. What do you remember?"

The Reaper looks at him, eyes slowly focusing, and, strangely enough, they crinkle around the edges as he softens just a bit. He never smiles. Taako’s heart does a funny little missile launching sequence behind his ribs.

"You saved my life," The Reaper croaks out. And then, even more bizarrely, "Thank you."

Taako is suddenly very sweaty. He wishes he was in street clothes and not his stupid fucking villain duds.

"Anything else?" You know, like the fact that it was almost Taako’s fault? Or like the fact that Taako, aka Flux, the demon of the newspapers and the terror of the Sword Coast, is his mortal goddamn enemy?

Kravitz considers this at length. He did hit his head pretty hard, and Taako’s powers might be strong, but they were never meant to be used to heal. The silence is physically painful.

Kravitz shakes his head, and winces.

"I don't...I don't remember." He frowns, and then looks at Taako, tilting his head a little. "But I know...I trust you."

"Me??" Taako can't help the way his voice pitches up, which is embarrassing to say the least. "You trust me?? Do I look trustworthy to you??"

Kravitz looks him over, and smiles gently. Taako’s heart explodes into confetti.

"Yeah," he says softly. "I know I'm safe with you."

 

_________

Taako wakes up disoriented, mask still on his face, and panics for a second--has he finally gotten his dumb ass caught??--before he realizes where he is. He’s at the safehouse with his Reaper, their limbs still tangled. His skin is bizarrely cool against Taako’s overheated body, and it’s grounding, in a funny way that isn’t funny at all. It’s a mess he’s gotten himself into, and deep, and there’s no sight of the sun anymore. All he has is Kravitz.

The weird feelings from last night come back in full force, and following that nauseating journey, thunder cracks again overhead, loud and nasty and world-rending, and Taako’s heart stops. He registers, belatedly, the hammering of torrential rain on this shitty little house’s shitty little roof, the storm sounding so much closer than it would if Taako was home in his apartment. If he was home, he’d turn his music up real loud (fuck the neighbors) and hide in the bathtub until the stupid thing was over.

But he’s here.

And so is his Reaper.

Kravitz stirs in a strange way at the noise and Taako’s movement, going from full unconsciousness to eyes wide open, hand reaching for a weapon, and it makes Taako feel some type of way knowing that he, too, has had to become a light sleeper to keep his stupid ass alive in dangerous situations. The more he realizes they have in common, the sicker he feels. He’s inventing a new fucking disease. Name it after him. Should it be Flux, or Taako? Does he want to be unmasked after death? Who fucking cares about his secret identity? There’s one person on the planet, and he’s got Taako in his arms already.

Fuck, he’s molten-core-of-the-planet deep in this mess.

“Flux,” Kravitz whispers, voice rough and sexy, for sleep reasons and also last night reasons. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, my man, nothing.” Maybe if he lies it’ll come true? Ah, nope, that’s not his super power, even if it is close. “Just a storm. You can keep snoozing.”

“Your heart rate is up.”

“Fuck you.”

Kravitz raises an eyebrow, which is a little hard to tell with his mask still on too (it’s not comfortable in a physical way, but it’s been easier to slowly let this become something entirely new when they don’t have to look at each other’s full bare naked faces), but Taako’s got practice reading him now, and he flushes hard at the implication there.

“It’s just a storm! It’s nothing! It- It’s nothing. I could leave if I wanted to. It’s fine.”

“Right.” Kravitz still looks skeptical, but he lets the shadows slip back from the shape of the weapon he’d been forming. Can’t sword a tornado. Even if you’re a relentless badass with a bod that won’t quit and a mouth like a fallen angel discovering Hell 2. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Taako fully sits up now, folding his arms and turning away, even though he wants to be back in those strong arms. Thunder claps again, and he jumps, damn it. Usually he can mask this better. Becoming vulnerable with his nemesis has made him soft and weak and...far too happy to last. “Don’t you say a fucking word, Reaper.”

Kravitz nods, and yawns, and sits up too. He pulls Taako closer with those terrible, strong, evil, incredible hands of his, and Taako glares, but accepts the embrace, because at least it didn’t come with some bullshit take on his weakenesses and the childishness of his fears and stupid reassurances he doesn’t need because he knows it’s fucking irrational, damn it, but every time, every single time that thunder bowls the primordial soup, it rattles Taako’s bones like a cartoon in a Halloween candy commercial.

Kravitz smells good. Taako doesn’t know how he’s let that smell become so familiar and comforting, but it is, and he accepts it for now, because it’s keeping him from completely shivering himself apart like a neurotic purse dog.

And Kravitz doesn’t say anything, because he knows when to be a brat and when to be serious, and maybe he’s not so good at being a civilian yet, and for sure, he’s no hero, but two villains like them almost sort of deserve each other, if you think about it. Taako sure won’t, but he can’t stop anybody else from doing it. He doesn’t know what he’s thinking, or if he’s even thinking at all. But something deep within him, something stupid and delicate and vulnerable and small, that something feels those arms around him and thinks safe.

He’s not a bathtub, but he’ll do.

Notes:

listen im hoping to write this properly so ive avoided posting this but im not sure if i will or wont so here are the originals for reference? hopefully that day comes

Chapter 18: Why don’t you take a bath and maybe you’ll feel better?

Summary:

Taako spitefully takes some advice. (This one is new!!)

Notes:

It's been so long I can do art about it now.

 

Why don’t you take a bath and maybe you’ll feel better, Lup had texted him, and Taako knew, logically, that she meant it with all the goodness and care for him in her big dumb heart, but Taako was in a nightmare mood, so he read it dripping, just oozing with bitchiness, and maybe he was going to take a bath, but he wasn’t about to enjoy it.

Spite bath. For mean stupid assholes who can’t have what they want because they don’t deserve it and throw big idiot baby tantrums because their feelings got hurt that somebody posted date pics online with his hot new perfect dentist boyfriend who makes lots of money and can regulate his own fucking emotions and maybe even can keep a cactus alive for more than a month. Allegedly. 

Taako sinks deeper into the water. It’s a pretty shade of blue, but other than that, his bath bomb was a total waste of money, and he’s mad about it, and doesn’t smell like anything, and the bubble bath he had left wasn’t enough to foam up the whole bath, and he needs to redye his hair, and he forgot to bring a snack, because he plans to fully dissolve until he’s Taako soup, and he’s mad about it. He’s lonely and snackless and broke and his cactus is dead and his sister is miles and miles away and his heart hurts. But now he’s also soaking wet. So, thanks for that, Lup. 

He swipes the plastic bag he put his phone in off of the toilet lid and unlocks it, you know, after 4 failed tries, and, fuck him mighty, the picture is still there. They’re smiling and holding hands at an early dinner, and the post mentions in that elegant way he talks for an audience that they’re going to a show, a concerto in the butterfly gardens, and Taako nearly throws his phone. He’s not that fancy. He doesn’t even know how much a concerto in the butterfly gardens would cost. Maybe he could afford a commercial jingle in a compost pile. Worms can probably jam. 

He tips his head back and groans. Don’t wait up for me, Kravitz had said. I don’t know how late I’ll be back, and you don’t have to worry about me. You know, casual things roommates say to each other? It’s getting on…late, or something, and yeah, maybe Taako was hoping to hear from him, you know, make sure David wasn’t like, a vampire and sucked his soul out or something (fuck, he really can’t compete with a vampire). Maybe hear about how great it was, because at this point, Taako almost wants to feel worse. Bring on the self-sabotage. He’s gonna make all sorts of choices.

He opens a new text and starts typing the truth, but it’s so embarrassing he has to delete it. He tries again, a little more casually, hey, so, Krav, I’m kinda maybe a little bit– deleted. Super sorry to bother you on your perfect date with perfect David but I wanna be yours so bad I can taste–deleted. Do you want to dump your boyfriend and get with me instead? No worries if not! Fucking hell. He trails his hand in the water, scooping up fast-dissolving bubbles. He shakes them off, and some of them fly all the way to the bathroom counter. Oops.

I like you, he types, and that feels a little less horribly pathetic, but the whole thing was an exercise in misery anyway, and he goes to delete that, too, but his hand is slippery, and he drops the bag his phone is in, and fumbles for it, and it goes right into the water.

“Fuck, fuck!” He scoops it out and shakes it off, but the screen is nearly impossible to read through the waterlogged bag. He dries a hand on the fluffy bath mat and fishes the stupid thing out. 

Delivered. 

Read. 

Taako does throw his phone, hot potato, and it goes all the way across the bathroom. He covers his face. He yells into his hands. He hears his phone vibrate from the floor, once, twice, a third time. Kravitz almost never multi-texts, that’s more Taako’s bag, and he’s trying not to hyperventilate all naked and wet and stupid. 

What can he do?? What is there to do??? He doesn’t want to say it was a joke. That would be cruel, a step too far. He might have been feeling self destructive, but he doesn’t need to make Kravitz miserable. 

He pushes himself up, and the phone vibrates again, and he pulls the plug in the bathtub and wraps himself in a towel, relieved he showered first, for once. Blue water slogs out of the tub, gurgling in a way that almost sounds like he’s being chastised, and Taako dries himself off, rubbing at his face like maybe it’ll come off if he tries hard enough. This is, unfortunately, unsuccessful. 

He takes a deep breath, and he picks up the phone. 

Taako, what?

How do you mean that? Taako? Where did this come from?

Do you really? I’d like to talk to you, if you have a chance, I know it’s late, things went long, there was a problem…I mean, I don’t need to exhaust you with the details but, I guess I don’t know what’s going to happen next. Things didn’t turn out the way I planned.

Taako, are you there? Can you call me?

Oh, um, actually, you see, the problem is that Taako would rather succumb to a poison lava death than do that, sorry. His pruney fingers itch with anxiety. The phone starts vibrating with a call, and Taako nearly chucks the phone away again, and this time, he might not get it back. 

Something automatic, something unreal, something new, swipes to answer the call, and shakily puts the phone to his ear. Normally he would run, he would ruin things, he would fuck everything up. But he doesn’t want to make Kravitz sad. 

He doesn’t say anything, though. His tongue is in knots, and he’s about to swallow it.

“Taako, are you there?” He sounds a little choked up for some reason. “I- Can- can you tell me what you meant? It’s- it’s kind of important…Do you…do you really like me? Like, that, I mean, do you- I mean, you probably wouldn’t have said, I mean, I know you think I’m an okay roommate, and, and all that, but–surely you meant–what did you mean??”  

“Um,” Taako says, voice cracking. He’s still holding the towel, hair still dripping down his back. “Uh, hey, Krav.” 

“Taako,” Kravitz says, strained. “I- I just got in a fight with David about this, and- and I can’t-”

“Fuck,” there’s something hard in his throat that won’t go away. “I didn’t mean to- It was an accident, I- I don’t wanna ruin-”

“It was an accident?” The disappointment is palpable through the phone. He could palp it right there, physics be damned. 

“No!! No- I- It’s true, I just- I didn’t mean to send it, I-” 

“It’s true? You like me?” It’s way too eager to mean nothing. Now Taako’s heart is palping. It’s palping hard. 

“I- Fucking of course I like you!” The dam breaks. Taako’s glad he doesn’t have to look Kravitz in the eyes. “I’ve liked you for months, okay? I just don’t want to fuck things up wi-”

“Fuck David,” Kravitz says, desperately fast. “He got nasty about the way I picked up the phone when I saw you text. He- he accused me of being in love with you.” 

“Yeah? Have, um, have those allegations been proven?”

“The evidence is piling up,” Kravitz admits, and then he laughs, and that breaks the spell, and Taako has to laugh too, even though he may or may not be a little teary-eyed. “I think I just broke up with my boyfriend, Taako,” he whispers. 

“What if I told you I know where you can get a new one?”

“I think I’d really like that. It’s been on my mind for a long time.” 

Huh, Taako thinks. Maybe I do feel better.

 

Chapter 19: winner winner

Summary:

A sweet interruption.

“Okay, sorry to get distracted from the, the great kissing-”

“You think I’ll let you get off track?” Taako grins sharply, tugging him closer. “This train has left the station, hotboy, you really gonna crash the choo choo?” 

Kravitz kisses him again, hungry and wanting and tasting their ice cream date on his tongue and so lightheaded he could touch the sun, nearly forgetting what he was going to say. Taako steers him to the bed and Kravitz goes like an off brand Jenga tower and then Taako is right in his face again, eyes blown wide, heart beating like a bongo bouncing down the stairs. Kravitz’s head hits something soft, and the half-thought swims close enough to grasp. Gonna make thought sushi. Notion nigiri. He’s getting double distracted, fuck. 

“Uh,” he says, and Taako laughs softly, pulling back. 

“You good, hombre? You want me to stop? I’m kidding about the choo choo. This bad boy’s got breaks if you need ‘em, yeah?”

“Oh, that’s not it, I’m, very invested in, rail transport, but,” Kravitz feels even warmer all over now, like he swallowed lava lamp sauce. Taako is so perfect. Kravitz is going to keep him forever. “Sorry, when you kiss me my brain turns to pop rock soup? Uh,” he catches his breath. Taako tilts his head to the side, grinning, waiting for the meaningful part. Ugh, he’s incredible. 

“This- this is the stuffed animal I won you from the fair, isn’t it?” Kravitz grabs the enormous rainbow t-rex and gives it a squeeze. It was the best date he’d ever had, until the next one with Taako, and the next one, and the one after that, because Taako’s good at a lot of things, but escalation is right up there.

“What? Course it is.” Taako sits back, still half on Kravitz’s lap. “What, did you think I was gonna throw him out? He’s my buddy, reminds me of you.”

“Me-” Kravitz can’t help but laugh. “Do- Taako, do you sleep with this guy?”

“Jealous, Krav?” Taako steals the dino away. “Maybe cha’boi gets lonely when you aren’t here.” 

“You think about me when I’m not here?” Kravitz has to kiss him again, and it’s Taako that pulls back this time, laughing. 

“Of course I do, jackass, I love-” Taako swallows and clears his throat, folding in. “Uh, I mean-”

“Shit, Taako, I love you too.” Kravitz couldn’t be more honest. The dinosaur falls to the side, and they look at each other for a long beat, and then they’re kissing again, absolutely magnetic. 

“Fuck,” Taako breathes, wasting precious oxygen. “You love me?”

“I love you,” Kravitz promises, panting. “I do.”

Taako just laughs, and tugs him into another kiss, and another after that, with no intention of stopping. 

Notes:

Hey I have so many of these, I should start posting them again. Is it cool if I post one like, every day? I know posting them all at once might be insane, lol

Chapter 20: Swamp Mermaid Taako

Summary:

he's a swamp mermaid

Are swamp stakeouts in Kravitz’s job description? No. But is he in the swamp right now looking for a fish criminal? You bet your ass he is.

Quite a lot of things are--he’s a man of many duties at the Rockport Department of Fish and Game--but eating jerky in a boat at three am while wearing a borrowed ghillie suit and stalking a supposed poacher is not one of them. He has an excuse, and it’s a pretty good one, considering he’s using the Department’s boat, and the Department’s pickup truck, and legitimately intends to clock the hours if he’s successful, but it’s still not exactly something his boss looked him in the eye and asked him to do. 

But Kravitz is the kind of employee that tends to go above and beyond the call of duty, not because he’s so incredibly loyal to the Department, but because he honestly figured he’d be a lot farther in his career (with the salary to match) by now, and he’s decided it’s time to get a promotion or get a new job. 

One very good way to get a promotion with Fish and Game is to make a big catch. They kind of dig that shit there. It’s a whole thing. And every single time Kravitz has surveyed the swamp in the last few months, the fish population has gotten alarmingly lower and lower, and the rest of the ecosystem has started to show the strain. It’s a legitimate issue, even if Kravitz has decided to solve it like a fucking vigilante, and the perpetrator could be looking at a huge fine or even jail time. That kind of grab could get him some mighty sweet press, and from there, he could be looking up, up, up. Finally. 

So yes, Kravitz is dozing off in the middle of the swamp on company time, but he’s doing it to catch a monster and save lives.

He never expected to be the bait. 

If Kravitz were awake, he’d hear the crickets stop chirping, and he’d hear the frog song decrescendo, and he’d just barely hear the water part for something very, very big. But Kravitz is not awake, and he has no warning before his boat tips over and dumps him right into the nasty green water. He very narrowly avoids getting a huge lung full of algae and swamp juice, and he struggles and kicks and ducks out of the way of his aluminum boat, just barely treading water as the ghillie suit tries to drag him down, and all Kravitz can hear is laughter. 

His first assumption is that it’s teens, somehow. His collective nemesis. But the laughter isn’t coming from the shore, it’s coming from the water, somewhere with him, and blind in the dark, he reaches for his boat, the oar, something to grab hold of. Instead he touches something big and slimy and shaking, laughing in his face and ducking just out of reach. He paws at his eyes, trying to get the gunk out and see by the light of the moon, but he just barely catches movement. What is it? An alligator? A catfish? A diver? 

Idiot. It’s laughing at him. It has to be a person.

But then why was it so smooth?

All he can hear is splashing and laughing and he can barely tell up from down--the swamp goo is still trying to suck him in the harder he struggles. He finally gets his eyes wiped clean enough to see and all the moon glints off is sharp, sharp teeth and he screams. 

The laughter gets even louder. 

Kravitz swims for the boat--usually he’s a really fucking good swimmer, or he wouldn’t have been so stupid as to come out here alone, but between the fear and disorientation and being half asleep and the nasty sucking gloop of the swamp, he’s having a real hard time. His dumb ghillie suit tangles in something and he starts to sink and his life flashes before his eyes and he’s preparing some strong fucking words for whatever higher power receives him when strong arms wrap around his middle and haul him bodily to shore. He’s gasping like an idiot fish for breath when the moon finally illuminates his tormentor, and it’s a lot to take in. 

He only barely avoids screaming in the man’s face a second time. 

He’s beautiful, with long, tangled hair and big bright eyes, but they’re strange eyes. They glow an alarming green in the moonlight, even more shocking still when combined with that razor-sharp grin. It’s unnerving how warm that grin makes him feel, how that laugh and those sparkling eyes chase shivers up and down his spine like a runaway lawnmower chewing up a frozen lake. 

“Stupid man,” the figure says, and laughs again, that wild, cacophonous laugh that fills the swamp to tree level with his unhinged mirth. “Can’t you swim?”

“I- of- of course I can!”

The creature...person? Tips his head back and cackles. 

Chapter 21: wedding date

Summary:

Taako needs one

"I need a date for this wedding," Taako declares with a mouth full of cheesy fries, "And you need a date for this wedding, are you seeing the algebra here?"

"Are you really going to go?" Kravitz pulls his straw out of his milkshake to get an oreo chunk unstuck. "I don't know about you, but I try not to think about people from high school."

"You think about me," Taako teases, and Kravitz tries not to choke on the oreo. It's true, is the problem. To an embarrassing degree. But Taako can't know just how Kravitz thinks about him, because they've been best friends since second grade and if he ruined this friendship he might as well walk into the sea.

"Uh, well," Kravitz takes a long slorp of milkshake and pretends he doesn't have a lot of feelings on the matter. "You're different."

"C'monnnnnnnn. We should be cheering Sabine and Jess on. They've broken up like fifteen times, the least we can do is, you know, remind them they're fucking meant for each other. Also I have a sick outfit planned already and I haven't had a chance to wear it since I shoplifted it from the thrift store and I want to eat cake, Kravvy, c'moonnnnnnn-"

Ah. Pulling out the big guns. Kravitz swipes one of Taako’s fries and pretends to think about it, like Taako’s big sweet puppy dog eyes don't immediately melt his resolve into one big gummy bear soup in a hot fucking car.

"You know you want to," Taako needles. "Come on, it would be so fun to pretend to be dating. People already assume we are, it would be hilarious."

"Right," Kravitz breathes, willing his heart to beat normally and less like a ketamine tambourine. "Hilarious."

"I wonder how long we could get away with it. I'll bet we could convince everybody all weekend. Oooh, and then we could pretend to break up, and get everyone's attention, man, that would be so fun. Fuckin, love that drama. Oh my god, do you think you could catch the bouquet?"

Kravitz thinks he might have caught something, and it's a terminal disease called feelings. Symptoms: terrible sweating, heart palpitations, hallucinations, loss of appetite-

"What do you say, you wanna be my boyfriend?" Taako grins, and then hurriedly amends, "My fake boyfriend, I mean?" He chuckles nervously, and Kravitz struggles to laugh too. He's currently a little overwhelmed by the sound of the ocean in his ears.

"Uh, sure," he hears himself saying, over the waves and seagulls and existential crisis. "It'll be. Fun! Plus, you know. What could go wrong?"

Chapter 22: felony vandalism foreplay

Summary:

nothing more romantic than doing crimes together

“So Taako,” Kravitz stage-whispers, holding tightly to Taako’s legs to keep him on his shoulders. “I looked it up, and vandalism can be pursued as a felony charge. That’s-” He looks up to see how Taako’s doing and ducks his head so spray paint doesn’t get in his eyes. The sunglasses he brought only help a little, except for the part where it made Taako laugh but also slap his ass, so that’s half of a win. “That’s multiple years in jail.”

“Shouldn’ta googled it, Krav, it’s like looking up your symptoms or whatever.” Taako says, and Kravitz knows just from his tone he’s shaking his head wistfully. He knows Taako like the back of his hand, like Hamlet’s To Be or Not To Be speech, like the smell in the air when you know it’s going to rain without a shadow of a doubt. They’ve been friends for most of their lives. Kravitz has been pining after his stupid ass for what feels like nearly as long. He’s a fucking sucker, is what he is, and he knows it. “You know, you’re like, huh, why are my hands shaky, and the internet is fuckin’ like, CANCER TWO, THE SEQUEL TO CANCER! It was invented just so we could all watch you die miserable and alone, because the other reason you’re shaky is halitosis and also dick rot! Bleagh!!!”

Kravitz tries not to laugh, and fails.

“Not the dick rot,” he deadpans, “anything but dickrot. But no seriously, you’ve got to stop asking me to do crimes with you.”

“You’ve got to stop saying yes, coward. Okay, I’m done, lookie here.” Taako clicks his tongue, like he’s addressing a horse. Kravitz has half a mind to buck him off. Yeehaw. He looks up though, and has to laugh again, his composure not even recovered from the last go.

“Is that skeleton-”

“Obviously. Okay, let me down, let’s dip.”

Kravitz is about to comply right after Taako puts the spray cans back in his backpack, but a light snaps on, and Kravitz’s heart starts thumping like a rabbit at its first punk rock concert, and it doesn’t take Taako hissing go go go go for him to hold tight to Taako’s legs and bolt. It’s awkward and unwieldy, but they know this area, and it’s easy for them to disappear into the weeds and trees and junk left behind, along with Kravitz’s sunglasses. Taako whoops and cackles and Kravitz holds onto him for dear life, but the chase thrums in his veins like caffeine and adrenaline had an affair and produced a spectrum of unlikely offspring even Gregor Mendel couldn’t grasp.

They skid to a stop in a familiar clearing and Kravitz finally drops Taako to the ground, and they freeze, channeling all the deer energy they can muster, not even inches away from one another. There’s nothing, no sound behind them, no lights, no consequences, and when the breath they were holding together runs out, Taako laughs and hugs Kravitz and kicks his feet up in delight, and Kravitz laughs and spins him around and kisses him firmly on the lips like he’s wanted to for eight years, six months, and thirteen days.

The ground catches them and they drop like dizzy bricks and lay there for a moment together before it all sort of clicks, and then they’re holding their breath again, not daring to look at each other, to say a single word.

This gets old pretty quickly. If Kravitz could count on anything–the sun to rise, Burger Hut’s bathroom to scare his soul out of the holes in his shoes, fire to hurt when you touch it–he can count on Taako’s attention span.

“You kissed me,” he accuses.

“You kissed back,” Kravitz breathes, which is hardly a defense.

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for so fucking long I swear to god Kravitz I’m going to tear you apart,” he straddles Kravitz and kisses him again, “Do you understand me, I’m going to shake you to pieces,” he kisses him again, taking his hands and pinning them above his head, and Kravitz has to laugh, and Taako does too, and never before has a moment felt so alive. He’s humming like a neon sign and Taako can read it plain as day and things from this moment on are going to be so, so different and strange, and so familiar and safe, but for this delicate little island in the ocean of their lives, the world is hungry and quiet, and their hearts beat in unison, and they don’t have to draw any conclusions from the facts laid bare as their pulse just barely visible in the moonlight.

“We- we can’t keep doing this,” Kravitz manages. “It’s- it’s too fun, I’m going to do something I shouldn’t-”

“Maybe you should,” Taako says. “A lot. So many times, consecutively, with me and nobody else, forever and ever until you die, how about that?”

“Shit, I didn’t think of that.”

They toss aside the paint filled backpack and take full advantage of the cover of darkness to express their feelings, finally, finally revealed. And it’s good.

Chapter 23: cheating

Summary:

it's game night

“You cheating whore! You’ve betrayed me for the last time!”

“Taako-” Kravitz ducks as Taako throws a pillow at him. “Taako, it’s not-”

“Oh, it’s not important? It’s not worth getting upset over?? You STOLE my SPOT! That was my SPOT, Kravitz! I’ve been waiting for it for a whole round!”

Lup is laughing hard enough she’s given herself the hiccups, and Barry is holding as many of their incredibly spillable drinks as his short arms can manage. He’s flipping between Taako and Kravitz like it’s a ping pong death match.

“Taako, we can’t keep playing Scrabble if you- don’t you throw your ring at me!”

“I was going to play blunt, Krav, it was a fucking masterpiece! BLUNT! And you swoop in with fucking dandy, I can’t believe-”

“So what are you gonna play, huh? It’s your turn, coward, fucking play something.” Kravitz folds his arms smugly. He ducks another pillow.

“You- fucking want me to play something, I’ll fucking play something, you fucking- you son of a bitch, you smug horse’s ass, you-” Taako slams down several letters on the table, knocking many others astray, irately spelling s-u-b-t-l-y and adding it up- “That’s fucking one, two, five, six, seven, eleven, times three is thirty-three! Eat my fucking ass!”

“Fresh.” Kravitz arches an eyebrow.

“If you two dumbshits are finished,” Lup says, wiping tears from her eyes, “I have my eye on that other triple, and I’m gonna just, uh, casually, you know, w-o-o-z-y, that’s 20 times three, babe, could you-?”

“Sixty,” Barry says, finally setting the glasses back down.

“LET’S PLAY APPLES TO APPLES,” Taako snaps, throwing his remaining letters on the table. Kravitz laughs himself into a coughing fit. Barry shakes his head, smiling.

“You know, game night doesn’t have to be a blood bath every time,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

“Why not? My heart hasn’t beat this hard in centuries.” Kravitz takes a long drink and laughs. “You wanna play Apples to Apples? I’ll beat you under the table.”

“You’re on!”

“Hey, now, give me the credit for winning here, you wimps! I’m taking these points to the bank!”

Barry pushes up his glasses.

“There’s always Uno.”

There’s a unanimous, horrified, “NO!” and Barry snickers, pleased to retain the title.

Notes:

lmk if you enjoy these!

Chapter 24: fuuuuuture

Summary:

time traveler taako

Listen, everybody has to work a shitty job once in a while. Or maybe a lot, all the time, until it feels like your inside goop is threatening to become outside goop on a minute-by-minute basis, and you can barely hold on anymore, but you gotta keep holding on, because a few hours smiling and getting fucked with by customers is all that’s keeping you from the literal and financial brink, and you don’t have time to analyze the mental one you’re headed for.

It happens. It’s normal. It doesn’t mean you failed at your one dream in life and can never aspire to anything worth doing ever again, or anything.

So Kravitz is working at a fucking 7-11. He, for the most part, is working there pretty much by himself, and works the night shift pretty frequently. It makes him feel like a vampire in the least sexy way possible, but hey, he can have a slurpee whenever he wants. You’ve never lived life until you’ve had red sugar poison on tap. It’s not a pretty job. Dealing with truckers and teenagers, that sucks. Cleaning the bathroom? That sucks. Running the cash register? Believe it or not, also sucks. He was born to be a conductor. How often do conductors get guns flashed in their faces?

Kravitz has a pretty good poker face, and also doesn’t give a single fuck how much money the good ol’ negative four retains. His life may be worth peanuts, but it isn’t worth the fuckin sweaty sticky dollars that 40% likely have been in someone’s bra.

That? That he can deal with. But when a man--a beautiful man, The Most Beautiful Man, listen, Kravitz has fucking eyes--when a man in a shiny jumpsuit vaults over the counter, Kravitz doesn’t know how to react.

“Get down!” TMBM hisses, and, Kravitz, stupid, gets down. He puts his hands up, though, just in case.

It was kind of impressive that he just vaulted the counter like that, though.

“Is this-” Wait, you’re not supposed to say it. “What’s going on?”

“I’m only here to establish an alibi, get your hands down. I don’t want your nasty paper money.” TMBM scoffs and rolls his eyes, like the idea of money being made of paper and also touched by millions of people who do people-things with their time and bodies is both insane and also completely outdated.

“Rad,” Kravitz says, which is also stupid. “What, what are you running from?” Is he going to get shot by someone else? He would like the minimum amount of holes in his person, please. No no, keep the change.

“The Time Intervention Taskforce.”

TIT, Kravitz thinks, and does not say with his delicate mortal mouth.

“Right, cool, uh, are you drunk?” Kravitz backs away a little, just in case, but he, listen, he works at a gas station, he knows how people that are drunk enough to invent time police smell, and TMBM actually smells kind of nice, plus a weird layer of almost...ozone.

“Nah,” TMBM says. “Just in trouble. Sorry for getting you involved.” He peers over the counter, and then turns to Kravitz. “Name’s Taako.” He holds up his elbow and waits, like this is a reasonable and normal request for a reasonable and normal interaction. Kravitz cautiously bumps his own elbow to Taako’s.

“Kravitz,” he says, pointing at his nametag.

Taako laughs.

“You look like you’ve never done that before. What year is it, even?” He prairie dogs up again, catches sight of the cigarettes and tobacco on the wall, and gasps. “Holy shit. I went way too far.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s 2021?” So clearly he’s having some kind of episode. Kravitz certainly doesn’t want to call anyone about it, but Taako really can’t be behind the counter, either. “Do you have a vehicle you can go back to, or did you walk here?”

“No, I climbed through a rift in the parking lot.” Taako adjusts a stray lock of light blue hair from his bun. “So I’m a little bit fucked. But at least I’m in 2021 and nowhere near the explosion.”

“Explosion?”

The world slices open in the chips and pretzel aisle, and three people in silvery suits like Taako’s with shiny opaque helmets raise what look like fucking laser guns at the two of them behind the counter.

“CITIZEN 16,934,207,773, DO NOT RESIST ARREST,” the three figures seem to say in unison, in a horrible, hauntingly scratchy metallic voice. “RELEASE YOUR HOSTAGE AND RETURN WITH US TO THE PRESENT.”

“He’s not my hostage!” Taako calls over the counter.

“HE HAS SEEN TOO MUCH AND WILL RETURN WITH US FOR PROCESSING.”

“Taako,” Kravitz says, as calmly as he can manage. “I don’t think you know how alibis work.”

“Maybe so,” Taako drawls gravely. “Hey, are you busy tonight? Cause I was thinkin’ we could get out of here.”

“I’m at work,” Kravitz explains slowly. He points to the nearest camera. “My boss can watch what happened and he’ll know I left-”

One of the three figures shoots and completely evaporates every camera in sight.

“You know, on second thought, let’s definitely get out of here.”

“Cool,” Taako grins, and seems to unzip a hole where nothing used to be. “Let’s see if we can shake ‘em, and then I’ll buy you a milkshake. Those still exist, yeah?”

“What happens to milkshakes in the future?” Kravitz has to wonder, and Taako shoves him bodily through the hole, and wraps his arms tightly around him, and they fall through space and time and worlds connected by strands and pipelines and dreams and wishes and data and long forgotten memories, and Kravitz only doesn’t lose his lunch because he’s busy using his mouth to scream.

He hopes he still gets paid for tonight.

Chapter 25: binicorn havoc

Summary:

the boys rescue a binicorn and he returns the favor

“We could get arrested for this,” Kravitz mutters, dutifully following Taako over the fence and dropping down to the grassy area below.

“Coward.”

“I’m not a coward, I’m a rational person who doesn’t want a criminal record, or worse, okay?”

Taako looks up at him, adjusting his cheesy Halloween mask a little. It’s hard to read his expression in the low light offered by the moon.

“Listen,” he says. “If you don’t want to be here, I won’t stop you from going. But I’m doing this.”

“Taako...” Kravitz sighs. “I’m- I can’t let you do this alone either. Just- just promise me you won’t be stupid about it, okay? Promise me you’re not going to keep it at your house?”

“What do you think I am, huh?” Taako puts his hands on his hips. “Obviously I’m going to free it into the wild.”

“The wild, or like a mile outside of city limits?” Kravitz can’t help but worry. Taako just laughs and turns, shaking his head, and hurries toward the right paddock. Kravitz almost has to jog to keep up, and his worries only intensify. “We should go back to the party. Maybe people will think we were there and we’ll have an alibi?”

Taako turns and cocks his head, and Kravitz can see just a flash of his teeth behind the stupid mask.

“That’s a good idea. Maybe you were born for criminal actions!”

“I was not! You take that back!”

But Taako just keeps hurrying through the zoo, and Kravitz has no choice but to follow and hope firstly that there are no cctv cameras and, more rationally, that the ones that the zoo does have only take video and not audio.

Taako slows, and Kravitz knows they’re in the right spot. A beautiful luminescent white creature paces around the pen, two glimmering horns on its head and two dark eyes right below. It seems to stare right into Kravitz’s soul. Taako climbs the fence, and the binicorn toes at the sawdust, snorting softly. Kravitz sighs, and heads toward the gate, pulling out their supplies from his backpack.

“Hey, beautiful,” Taako whispers, carefully approaching the magical creature. “I hope the legends aren’t true, cause cha’boi ain’t a virign, but he’s getting you out of here and you’d better be thankful, cause you don’t fuckin’ belong here, you belong in the magic wilderness where you can be free.”

Kravitz snorts, and Taako can’t turn to give him the stink eye, but Kravitz knows he’s got one coming later. He activates the magic on the soldering iron and begins to melt one of several locks on the pen, hoping Taako can stall without getting himself killed.

“I know they call you Charlie, but that doesn’t seem quite right to me,” Taako continues, using the gentlest voice Kravitz has ever heard. It makes him feel some type of way enough not to fully run in the other direction away from this dangerous nonsense. Curse his soft gay heart.

Taako reaches out, holding several sugar cubes from a box inside his dark hoodie, and the binicorn sniffs at them gently before taking them into his mouth, and Taako bounces and hums in a way that Kravitz knows means he’s pleased beyond punch and well into Jungle Juice territory.

“Kravitz, I fucking wish we could record this-” he hisses, and the binicorn’s horns begin to glow, and he raises his head and tosses his mane, and Taako’s eyes glow too, and the binicorn charges forward and Kravitz drops the fucking tool he’s using to break the locks and throws open the gate--

Taako slumps onto the binicorn and the binicorn somehow scoops him up and tosses him back, and his limp body hangs off its gleaming white back, and it turns to stare right at Kravitz with those dead black soulless eyes and Kravitz has no idea what to do, just runs for Taako, and the binicorn digs at the sawdust and lowers its head and Kravitz yelps-

“Taako!”

And Taako sits up, his eyes still glowing with magic, and he laughs, bubbly and unafraid, and Kravitz doesn’t even want to go back to the party, he wants to be home in bed, and he fears the worst-

“Krav- Krav, he’s incredible, he’s so magic? His name- he’s Garyl! Garyl, don’t kabob my boyfriend, he’s breaking you out!”

Garyl, to his credit, relaxes, and considers Kravitz congenially. Kravitz fully sits on the dirt and holds his head.

“Taako,” he moans. “I thought you were dead.”

“Nah,” Taako says. “All good up here. Just, you know, having the first drift with a binicorn in recent history, no big. My brain tickles.”

“Can we go home? Please?” Kravitz can barely look at either of them. Garyl trots around the paddock and comes to sniff Kravitz. Kravitz squeaks with nerves.

“Soon, soon, soon, soon,” Taako soothes. “C’mon, get up here, let’s bust out.”

“I’d rather-”

“C’moonnnn, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. He promises not to gore you even though your delicate flesh would be soo easily pierced by his glorious horns.”

“Cool,” Kravitz says. “Cool and great. At least we have a getaway vehicle for our various fucking crimes?”

“He says thank you, by the way. He’s very chill. I kind of wish I had sunglasses to put on him, you know? Anyway, we should get the hell out of here before we get caught, so like, stop being a weenie and hop on.”

Kravitz would very much like to continue being a weenie, but he, through some concerted effort, does get on the incredibly magical creature and holds on tight to his boyfriend’s waist as they gallop toward the horizon. It’s almost beautiful.

If only there were no consequences for their actions.

Chapter 26: ookie cookies

Summary:

kravitz, is trying

Kravitz is fighting for his life in this dessert-decorating course, and he thinks he's finally lost the battle. He certainly feels like he's going to be executed, watching the instructor walk over like he's a shark and Kravitz is a flying fish that lost his pilot's license. He forces back the urge to destroy the evidence and beg for an A, because he's an adult and he paid to be here, damn it, but his heart is still pounding when Taako gets close.

"Soooo," he drawls, turning the plate around. "Tell me about your art." He looks like he's holding in giggles hard enough he's about to get the hiccups.

"Well," Kravitz is not going to bite his head off, he's not, even if being here is driving him up a wall. He's a normal adult and he can function. Maybe if he works hard and does his best, he can add an adverb there–he can function well, or admirably, or unlike trash. Gotta have aspirations.

"This one is a cat," he gestures to the purple cookie's lopsided smile and far too many whiskers, which make it look like a walrus that an ai tried to come up with on a lot of cold medicine. "And this one is. Um. Happy." The yellow frosting got mixed up with the black and made an awful mess, and yet through this saccharine deformity, the expression on his emoji cookie is somewhere between murderous and horny.

There's a beat, a staredown, the tumbleweeds rolling behind them in this classic cowpoke standoff, and Taako can't hold back anymore. He grips the counter and doubles over, laughing so hard he sounds a little bit like he's barking, or being abducted by aliens that have dial-up and have to go ten percent at a time. Kravitz doesn't know how to respond to this. It is not exactly the kind of criticism he deals with on a professional basis.

"Hang on, hang on," Taako wheezes, and he laughs even harder. He actually has to sit on the floor, and, as he's catching his breath between snickers, gestures for Kravitz to come down to his level. Kravitz can't exactly walk away, so he squats down and hopes his slacks can take the pressure.

"My guy, I-" Taako wipes tears from his eyes. "Don't take this the wrong way-" Kravitz will. "But you honestly, you, fuck," he drags a hand down his face, still shaking from mirth, "You decorate cookies like you're not, you're not left handed, OR right handed, but a third- fucking, secret hand that doesn't even exist."

Kravitz is… not sure how to process that.

"Fuck, my dude, I can't stand it, I-" He pushes himself up and offers Kravitz a hand, which he takes, against his better judgment. He's busy feeling deeply cut down about the cookies, and then he looks at them again, and he's laughing too. He really did make a mess of this. What can he say? There's no defense.

"Shit, gorgeous, why- again like, not to make you quit or anything, but, shit, this doesn't feel like it's your thing, yet, I- what even brought you to this class?"

Kravitz almost chokes on gorgeous and has a hard time getting the rest of the question to go down.

"Um," he says, a little pitchy, and he clears his throat. His cheeks are even warmer now than when his decorating skills were getting reamed. "My boyfriend wanted to do something as a couple," Taako’s face falls. "But he dumped me, and I'd already paid for the course, so, I figured," He rubs the back of his neck. "Maybe it would be fun?"

"Sorry to hear that." Taako is bouncing on his toes like a preschooler waiting impatiently for his turn to speak in the school play. "I can't say you're there quite yet, but uh," He grins. "Maybe a bit of private tutoring would help?"

"Taako," Kravitz looks him right in the eye, and takes a bite of his pink walrus. "I don't think anything could help me on this front. But if you'd like to go out for dinner, I'm free after this class."

Taako giggles and nods enthusiastically, and Kravitz is incredibly relieved he only decorated the cookies and had no hand in baking them.

Chapter 27: C'mere

Summary:

"You always say my food tastes amazing"

“C’mere.” Taako grabs Kravitz by the wrist and tugs him over, and Kravitz hopes his heart isn’t visibly pounding through his ribs, muscle tissue, skin, and four layers of dark clothing. It’s entirely possible. Fucker’s a frog in a bongo up in there. Taako’s hands are so warm and so very touching Kravitz’s skin and not to be a regency freak about unglov’ed contact, but Jesus Christ, is all. 

“What can I do for you, Taako?” Kravitz says, like he’s a retail employee in his own home and not Taako’s roommate, who has been in this exact position many a time. He knows. Why ask? He likes the rhythm of it. 

“Taste this, obviously,” Taako says, snorting, for the hundredth time. He pulls a tasting spoon out of his apron and swipes a tasting taste for Kravitz’s useless opinion, and Kravitz tastes that tasting taste and feels heaven between his cells. That must be what holds his body together in a recognizable and debatably sentient shape. 

“Holy shit, Taako, this is amazing.” Kravitz wants more than a taste. Is this dinner? Sharing dinner? Taako didn’t say he had a date tonight, did he? Kravitz gets more, right? Any more? Even a little?

“ Every time you taste my cooking you just say it’s amazing, Krav,” Taako snaps, putting his hands on his hips. With the cinched apron, it’s a good look, and Kravitz is looking respectfully, he promises. “You’re a poet, you bitch, e-la-bor-ate! Does it need more salt or not, I swan to John!”

Kravitz grins, feeling a little called out and a lot pleased that Taako wants his actual for real opinion. And also remembered the poet thing. He doesn’t exactly brag about it. It’s a hard thing to advertise without looking like a total douchebag. Add in the acoustic guitar and his, well, everything else, and Kravitz has got to be pretty delicate with any self-advertisement whatsoever. A lot of “not in a dick way I promise” and so on. “Believe me I’m not a poser, I really do like this shit.” It’s exhausting. 

Kravitz wonders if Taako remembers the poem. Kravitz’s brain gears catch something and start making a terrible machine noise in his brain that promises to chew any fine clockwork that dare think too hard about such a thing. 

“Kravvy,” Taako sighs. “Think out loud.”

“Couldn’t possibly,” Kravitz says, instead of choking and dying on the nickname and the soft hint of annoyed affection stored in that particular spaghetti-stained tupperware container. “If you want a poem about it, I’ll need five to seven business days. But how about, uh,’hot damn’? No? ‘Dewishis?’ How about that one? How about that thing I said?”

Taako elbows Kravitz in the stomach, but only half out of irritation, the other half being him doubling over laughing so hard he almost forgets how to breathe. 

“Fucking excuse me?”

“I said dewishis, I don’t know what more you want from me.”

“I- I don’t know!” Taako wheezes, gripping the counter. “You dumb stupid asshole, I’m trying to romance your brains out with my spices and simmering and you’re telling me my shit is dewishis? Dewishis, with your whole ass?”

“You what?” Kravitz says, remembering fondly when the room had oxygen in it. Oxygen used to be his favorite. Talk about something he could wax poetical about. Remember breathing? He could do it so easily! 

“I-” Taako stands up straight, looking a lot like a deer facing an on-coming flying saucer. One with a sharp blade on top, like a Roomba with a knife taped to it. Run away, little deer. Not down the road! Go perpendicular! Perpendicular! “I, uh, I. Didn’t, say anything.” He holds the ladle like a baseball bat. “Hold still, I’ll fix this.”

“Do not fucking give me blunt force head amnesia when you just confessed your love for me!” Kravitz bolts, and Taako gives chase. It is not a large apartment for these Looney Tooney shenanigans. 

“HOLD STILL I SAID! LOVE I DID NOT SAY. DID NOT, CANNOT BE PROVEN.” 

“YOU FUCKING LIKE ME AND YOU’RE TRYING TO WOO ME WITH SAUCES!”

“ACCUSE ME IN A COURT OF LAW, MCCALLISTER!”

“STOP FUCKING CHASING ME, I LIKE YOU TOO!” 

“YOU JUST WANT TO KEEP YOUR SKULL UNDENTED!” Taako skids to a stop, sliding on the laminate in his socks. He leans on the wall, huffing and puffing, and glares at Kravitz, who has mounted the couch in his defense. 

“Maybe so,” Kravitz says, gravely as possible. “Or maybe I was thinking about kissing you when I tasted it so I couldn’t do any words good at you, did you think of that?”

“Fuck you! Bullshit! I call bullshit!”

“I can prove it. Easy. C’mere.” Kravitz hops off the couch. Taako squints, still gripping the ladle with force. Kravitz wonders if his gambit is gonzo, but then he’s grappled by the lapels and kissed quite intensely. It is not how Kravitz imagined this would go. 

It is fucking amazing, though. Kravitz even considers passing out about it. Very regency. 

Taako pulls back, grip still unrelenting. He eyes Kravitz, and Kravitz returns the look, and they catch their breath. And they laugh. 

“Don’t tell me you did that to get out of describing my cooking, asshole.”

“Nah,” Kravitz says, pulling him into another kiss. “I’ve been pining for ages like a dumb idiot, I promise.”

“Good,” Taako says, definitively. And then, “Fuck! My sauce!!!” and bolts back to the burner, leaving poor dumbstruck Kravitz with hand-drawn hearts chirping around his head. 

 

Notes:

remember these i still have so many oops. should i post them

Chapter 28: divorce

Summary:

childhood friends/fake married

Notes:

cw: short allusion to vomiting

hey i realized i havent posted any of these in a while and im going to start doing that again if you guys would like?

Kravitz sits cross-legged on the floor of their apartment balcony and closes his eyes, trying to let the cool night air soothe his nerves and ending up tangled in knots anyway. This whole thing has been a mess, a disaster, but also the best part of his life so far. He’s wanted to be married to Taako since sixth grade, and in a monkey’s paw sort of way, he’s gotten that dream come true. But it’s a farce, a scam, and worst of all, it’s coming to an end. 

“Good news,” Taako had said, facing away from him and making mac and cheese from scratch for dinner, because he’s incredible and talented and amazing and so, so good to Kravitz. “Since we’re both graduating, we can get ‘divorced’. We don’t need to pretend for the benefits anymore. Things can go back to normal.”

No offence to Taako’s mac and cheese, but Kravitz couldn’t hold it down. 

  He doesn’t want to go back to normal. He’s treasured every kiss, every embrace, every moment they stole to hold hands for their audience of people that could report their fraud. That night they had to share a bed in the hotel? Kravitz still dreams about waking up with his arms around Taako’s middle, how warm he was, how he unconsciously tucked himself back into Kravitz’s embrace when he moved. And this is over? Kravitz almost feels like their friendship is ending, and that’s enough to make him nauseous again. 

The problem is, he loves Taako. He’s loved Taako for most of his life. And Taako just thinks he wants to be friends. Good news. He almost wants to fail on purpose so he can’t graduate, so they have to stay together, but that would be patently insane. There’s no possible course of action here. He’s going to have to get divorced from his best friend, and pick up the pieces of whatever there is left to go back to. 

The balcony door slides open, and Kravitz startles, opening his eyes. He’d been sure Taako was deep in studying for a quiz before he got out of bed to come out here. He’d thought it would take longer. 

“Hey,” Taako says, uncharacteristically soft. Actually, soft in the way pretty much only Kravitz has ever gotten to see, which makes it even worse. “You still feeling rough?”

Kravitz swallows and glances at him. 

“How did you know-”

“It’s a cheap apartment, the walls are thin.” Taako sits next to him, splaying his long legs out. His knee bumps Kravitz’s leg, and it’s bizarrely comforting, even now. “Do you think the milk was expired or something? Maybe you’re coming down with a bug? Stress? You get like that when you’re stressed sometimes.” He fidgets with his braid, unraveling it and retying it. 

He doesn’t look at Kravitz. 

“I...” Kravitz doesn’t know what to say, and the worst possible thing comes out of his mouth--the truth. “Taako, I… I don’t want to get divorced.” 

Taako goes still next to Kravitz, which is absolutely bizarre. He’s like a character in a video game, always with some kind of idle animation. 

“No?” His voice is even quieter now. 

Kravitz shakes his head. He’s gone and done it now. May as well ruin everything forever. 

“Do we have to? I...I don’t want to stop being married to you.”

“I thought...” Taako’s fidgeting starts again, but stuttering and stopping, not nearly so rhythmic as usual. Normally, that’s one of his favorite things about Taako. “I thought you’d want to just be friends again. You get this look on your face when we kiss sometimes like you’re in pain.” 

“Because I want to kiss you for real,” Kravitz whispers. “I like you a lot, Taako. Fuck it, I love you, and I have loved you since we were kids. Even my moms know that. I- I mean I try to be subtle about it, but I don’t know how you could possibly miss how head-over-heels I’ve been for you all this time.” Kravitz takes a shaky breath. 

“Shit,” Taako says, and he brushes his bangs back and laughs. “You love me?” 

Kravitz’s heart sinks like the paper boats they tried to float on the river every year of elementary school together. 

“Of course I do. I don’t know how I couldn’t.” 

“Now I feel pretty stupid.” Taako reaches for his hand and squeezes it tightly. “I’ve been in love with you since we picnicked under the stars right before my auntie died.” 

Kravitz’s heart fully stops. 

“Taako, that was in fourth grade!” 

“Yeah,” Taako laughs, but when Kravitz finally turns to see his face, he’s crying. His tears glitter in the moonlight like they’re full of magic, and for the fiftieth time and the first time, Kravitz leans over and kisses him. It lasts only seconds, an eternity, and it feels so right in the way all those others never did. It feels real. Kravitz finally pulls away to breathe, and Taako rests his head on Kravitz’s shoulder, tucking so neatly against him like they were made for each other. 

“I guess this is why all those people kept saying finally when we got hitched.” 

“We might be stupid.” Taako kisses his cheek, and then tucks himself close again, and Kravitz wraps his arms around him and holds him, for the millionth time, for the first time. It feels as natural as breathing. “Guess we’re meant for each other.” 

“I never did get the hang of dating,” Kravitz admits. “I only did it because I hated watching you with your boyfriends.” 

Taako snickers. 

“I’m sorry, that was kind of cruel of me. I thought maybe...” He clears his throat. “I thought maybe if you got jealous enough, you would do something about it.”

“Well, I’m doing something about it.” Kravitz kisses his head. “D’you wanna get married for real, even though for legal purposes we are already a wedded union?”

“Shucks,” Taako says cheesily, even though he’s crying again. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Notes:

lmk if you want me to update these again, i repeat: i have so many mini fics

Chapter 29: mall ghosts

Summary:

you know i love a mall au, obviously

"Every mall is haunted, obviously," Taako says with the kind of confidence one might use to declare that war is over, or that the sun would burn your tongue if you licked it, or that Ms. Frizzle is a lesbian. 

"Sure," Kravitz agrees automatically, because he's been seeing hearts where important visual information oughta go for like, months now. And then, "Hang on, rewind. You believe in ghosts?" 

"No," Taako spits back, cockily feeding quarters into the breaking room vending machine. "But ghosts don't need to be believed in for spook'emup horseshit. Are you really eating a Lean Cuisine again? I swear to God, I'm going to invite myself over and-"

"No no, don't deflect, you- fucking can't–Taako you say this shit and words have meanings , you're aware of this, right?" 

"-Like that's not even a joke, or a bastardization, that's culture you're devaluing with those three hundred forty calories, you know that, right? If it were a currency, the bank would be on fire." 

"Taako," Kravitz, exasperated. 

"Kravitz," Taako, cartoonish. He slams the button just liked the taped notice on the thing says to not to, and a Dr. Pepper falls out for the fiftieth consecutive time. "What am I supposed to blame, capitalism? Nah, this is fuckin ghosts, and you know it." 

"I guess if any place in the mall was haunted, it would be the Burlington Coat Factory," Kravitz concedes. 

"Burlington GHOST factory!"

"Uh huh." Kravitz can't be in love with him. He can't. Surely he just has some kind of disease instead. He isn't going to go to the doctor though, so the world may never know. "What spooky thing happened, then, chef?" 

He twirls his path-ketti and takes a Big Happy Bite and does Not gag, no one can claim otherwise. 

"All the fuckin' mannequins were in the grand hallway when we opened! Posed like- I don't wanna hurt your delicate sensibilities–"

"I'm not allergic to dirt, Taako."

"They weren't even fucking! Like, obviously if they were dolly-dallying and Barbie Bussin' it open, pause for applause," 

"Applause," Kravitz says dryly, because Taako won't go on if he doesn't get some acknowledgement, and again, this guy? This one? He's having romantic dreams about this fool? Christ alive and back again for one final tour, get tickets now on KVX9, at 8:30, 12:30, 4:30–

"They were all gruesome murder scenes." 

"Oh. Maybe the prankster just isn't horny."

"Couldn't be it!" Taako does a great big HMMM. "Maybe we should do a stakeout." 

"Why?" Kravitz blinks slowly at him. "The mall can be haunted. It's fine. Ghosts are above my paygrade." 

"Damn," Taako says, sighing and dramatically flopping on the table, and then turning to give him the biggest puppy dog eyes Kravitz has ever seen. "I was hoping you 'n me could bang it out together." 

Kravitz chokes on his heart leaping into his throat, and Taako lounges and languishes as he waits for Kravitz to spit up The Spaghetti Satan Would Deny. 

"Yeah?" He finally manages. 

"Mhm. This." 

"Not like. A movie?" 

"Chaboi can't sit through movies, I don't know why this shocks you." 

"Fair," Kravitz croaks. He shakes his head. There is one true path. He is cursed to fucking Candyland. His fate was set, predestination, there is no Fuck Nah option. "I…guess?" he says, regretting and anticipating in equal measure immediately.

"Fuck yeah!" Taako pops up like a wacky inflatable tube salesman. "I gotta make some snacks!!!"

Notes:

i don't wanna be annoying posting these on the daily but i repeat i have so many of them so we will see if people are interested i guess? also i simply just know tumblr is about as good an archive as a bathroom stall so there's that also

Chapter 30: you killed his psychic mold bro

Summary:

supernatural lab partners

“I don’t want to accuse you of anything,” Taako starts, as the prelude to absolutely making a fucking accusation. “But I’ve been wondering about you.” 

“What about me?” Kravitz is short with him. He’s been snappity short with him every fucking day since the incident. Taako has been so on edge and working in the lab with him has been…difficult. There’s no good way to come out and ask if someone is a just a fucking vampire now. 

Especially not because Taako fucking knows he’s a vampire now, because he can smell it on him. Because Taako isn’t a human either. 

But you can’t just be like. Straight up are you a vampire? Don’t lie, cause my werewolf nose knows. 

Maybe he should have come into this armed a little better. 

“Uh,” Taako says. “About how you’re doing.”

“Fine,” Kravitz says. “Can we do unethical science now?” 

“Seriously? You’re fine??” 

“Fine enough to do work,” Kravitz says cooly. “Besides, how does it involve you?”

“I mean you’re my fucking lab partner, asshole, and I care about whether or not you’ve been exsanguinated!” 

Kravitz squints at him. Taako grits his teeth. 

“Look,” Taako says, beginning to count on his fingers. “I haven’t seen you bring one of those fucking Lean Cuisines since last Tuesday.” 

Kravitz winces. 

“ And you turned the heat up so high in the lab you ruined my psychic mold, and you’ve worn a turtleneck every day for the last week, and- ”

“Taako-”

“ And you’ve been a real bitch to me! Like it’s my fucking fault!”

Kravitz’s face falls. 

“Taako, I- I don’t think it was. I- I guess I got wrapped up in my own head trying to…fix it…before anyone noticed, and…I’m sorry, I never wanted to make you feel responsible.” 

Taako’s on a roll now, though, oops! 

“Well, maybe you should! Cause I should have fucking stopped it! There shouldn’t have been a fucking vampire in my territory, and you got fucking bit, and now you’re mad at me, and my psychic mold is ruined, and-”

Kravitz blinks. 

“Your territory, Taako?” 

“Uh.” 

Kravitz squints at him. Taako takes two full steps backward, like maybe Krav’s baby vampire senses might still be garbled enough to not smell a werewolf right in front of him. 

The eye contact is so physically painful that Taako’s afraid his balls are going to fall right off and roll under the centrifuge. 

“Taako,” Kravitz says, like this is occurring to him for the first time. “Why do you care so much?” 

“Um,” Taako’s between a rock and a hard place, and both of them are radioactive. “I’m mad about the mold?” 

“No.” 

“No? You can’t tell me I’m not mad! It’s- who the fuck do you think you are-” Taako steps back again as Kravitz steps closer, and closer, and suddenly Taako’s back is to the locked door to the specimen chambers. Kravitz is so fucking close. And he smells weird, fresh vampire and all, but it’s hardly…bad. Taako’s just…not happy about it, is all. 

“Why were you gone on Tuesday?” Kravitz keeps forgetting to blink. Has he admitted it yet? Taako’s brain is eating this whole awful conversation. 

“Uh,” Taako says. “Fishing.” 

“You’re out of personal time. You took your adoptive nephew to see the wrestling.”

“Fuck me,” Taako sighs. “Why the fuck do you care about my personal time?” 

Kravitz finally blinks, and looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“No reason.”

“Hey,” Taako smells an out. It’s a dangerous one. But, you know, you take what you can get. “Do you fucking like me?”

“What??” Kravitz can’t go greyer in the face now, but he looks like he ought to be. “I- You’re- we’re coworkers! I can’t be-” 

“You fucking like me!” 

“Well-! It takes one to know one, doesn’t it??” 

“What the fuck are you accusing me of?” 

“You KNOW,” Kravitz hollers, looking totally unbalanced. “I’ve really lost track!”

Taako looks at him. Kravitz looks right back, looking downright pitiful, and Taako just has to laugh. Kravitz chuckles softly. 

“You know, in our line of work,” he says, shaking his head. “I should have gotten the vampire insurance.” 

“Yeah,” Taako says solemnly. “Dunno if it would’ve done you any good, though. I still can’t prove to Farm Bureau that I’m a werewolf.” 

Kravitz’s eyes go wide. Taako may as well go in with the baseball bat, while everything’s all fucked anyway. 

“Do you think we can still kiss?”

Kravitz opens his mouth, and shuts his mouth, and opens it again. 

“You know,” he repeats, thoughtful, dazed. “I’d still like to try?”

Notes:

is it possible for a vampire and a werewolf to on purpose kissed

Chapter 31: Couture

Summary:

dressmaker/prince

Notes:

man this one is from 2020...

Kravitz has been a couturier for several years now, making fancy clothing for higher and higher echelons of royal society, but he never, never in a century thought he would be hired to outfit the Prince. He knows he’s talented, but as their first meeting rapidly approaches, a black horse thundering down the cobblestone path straight for him, he worries if he’ll be good enough to outfit the future king of his fucking country. 

Let alone what the Prince will be like. 

He dreams of a charming Prince that kisses his hand and makes his cheeks grow hot, and he frets about a dastardly Prince that treats him like dirt and makes him sew and resew his outfits, but he never could have imagined that his Prince would be somewhere in the middle. 

“Just call me Taako,” he says, with a little smirk that makes Kravitz’s heart beat like the drums at the parade the Prince has to look perfect for in less than a week. “And let’s get to it.” 

“Of course, my P- ...Taako.” Kravitz doesn’t know how to handle this situation. It’s nothing like what he was prepared for, and he worries that if someone overhears him being overly familiar, his career and maybe even his attachment to his neck will be over. It’s a lot of stress to put on a guy with a habit for putting needles between his teeth. 

He measures Taako first, noting the numbers and drawing up possibilities in his head. Then comes the ideas phase, where Taako picks a color and the fabric and the adornments and smiles and looks Kravitz right in his delicate eyes and changes everything.

“I want a dress,” he says. 

“A dress?” Kravitz echoes, voice far away from him as the realities of that request dawn on him. The public reaction...his reputation...

“Is that a problem?” Taako regards him over his perfect fingernails, which he’s pretending to check for any possible flaws. 

Kravitz imagines the publicity. He imagines the renown. He imagines Taako, sparkling and resplendent as he waves his way down the parade route, and he smiles. 

“Not a bit, my Prince. Dresses are so much more interesting than suits.” 

“Good. And like I said, call me Taako.” 

It’s several days of nonstop work, and Kravitz can only have Taako try it on a few times--Princes are busy creatures. His blood, sweat, and tears go into that glittering monstrosity, and by the time he’s finished, he’s satisfied the damn thing is perfect, or as near to perfect as his mortal soul can achieve in less than a week. 

At the final tailoring, Kravitz watches Taako’s face light up, and he knows in his heart that he did his job right. 

“It’s perfect,” Taako tells him, and then the real surprise--he kisses Kravitz on the lips in his excitement, laughing and pulling away to spin the skirt like a child. Kravitz stands there, absolutely stunned, until Taako starts to get nervous. “What? Is there a problem? I’m not going to apologize, I-”

“There really is no one like you, is there, Taako?”

“I should fucking hope not,” he says, shifting idly from one foot to the other. “They say I’m pretty goddamn important.”

“Well, you certainly look it.” Kravitz smiles, resisting the urge to touch his lips. “If you’re satisfied and I’ve gotten all of my pins, then, I, well, I...I must be off.” 

Taako frowns. 

“Must you?”

“Do you need something else tailored?”

“Well, I...” Taako chews his lip. “I still need to test it properly, don’t I?”

“What more needs to be done?”

“It needs to be danced in. And… If- if you don’t mind- If I didn’t scare you off- if-”

“I’d love to dance with you, Taako.” Kravitz smiles. “You don’t think people will object to it, do you? A dressmaker and a Prince?”

“If they have a problem, they can shove it. I’m the Prince and what I say goes, and what I want is a dance with my gorgeous couturier right after my parade.” Taako puts his hands on his hips, or rather tries to and loses them in all the ruffle and puffle. Kravitz laughs. 

“As you wish, my Prince.” 

“Call me-”

“Oh, I will.”

Chapter 32: I'm so sorry I keep forgetting to add to this collection

Summary:

"holographic vampire sticker" + "I am looking Respectfully???"

“Hey, sick stickers,” the barista that Kravitz has been dreaming about like some kind of avenging angel whispers, cleaning tables conspicuously close to Kravitz’s set up in the cafe. 

He can’t help it. He jumps, embarrassing himself properly when he bumps his coffee and it slorshes unto the table. He scrambles to save his piles and suffocating piles of papers, and barista-angel, Taako, if his nametag can be trusted, which is doubtful, comes to the rescue. 

“Man,” he laughs. “Why didn’t you have the lid on?”

Kravitz sweats. 

“Is that why you have whipped cream on your nose?”

Kravitz imagines leaving the country. 

“Um,” he manages. “Hello.” It isn’t as suave as he hoped. Like if suave got ran over, frozen,  put in a blender, and transmitted via am radio in that order. You can hear the texture, and it’s really…something. “What?”

‘Taako’, probably, laughs, a goofy, musical sort of thing that makes Kravitz’s guts squeeze like some sort of non-FDA approved “medical” “equipment”. 

“You good, dude? You want to start over?”

“Yes!” Kravitz wants to disappear completely, but this angel is not, apparently, an angel of mercy. “Hi. Hello. Thank you for liking- I’m- they’re good stickers, yeah.”

“I like the vampire one.” He leans over and his floppy frilly shirt with the crazy sleeves for baristaing falls open over his apron, and Kravitz can see all the way to his navel. He can’t look away. He’s looking respectfully, please, please, please, he promises. 

“The, uh, the, holographic- I’m sorry, I promise I can sound like an adult man in control of himself, can I-” Kravitz takes a breath. “Yeah, they’re good, do you like vampires?”

“Hell yeah.” Taako grins, and shoots up (noooo, don’t go, Kravitz was catching a glint of a happy trail on his tummy and having Church Sanctioned Thoughts For Sure.) He throws an arm out and pretends to hide behind a cape. “Bleehhhh, I vant to suck your dick !”

Two paths diverge in front of Kravitz. There’s a breezy, sun-dappled path called Oh yeah? The feeling is mutual, stud, what time do you get off? Because if you want to get off, I’m your guy. 

The other is a steep downhill bear infested boulder plinko, called flipping his coat out like a cape, adopting the thickest dracula he can, and making a horrid face, firing right back at his blessed saint Taako, if that is his real name, “You thought I vas arousink you for horny reasons, but now all your blood is in your dick ! I’ve got you now, ah- ah- ah- ah!”

Guess which path Kravitz careened down like his life depended on it. Guess. Guess.

But Taako doubles over laughing, knocking Kravitz’s nearest stack of books down. Oh no. 

“Ah- I’ve-” but Taako’s already grabbing Kravitz’s erotica research off the floor, and his eyebrows go Way Up. 

“Lookin’ up new methods?” he teases. 

“Writing original fictions,” Kravitz says, dying a thousand days. Maybe two thousand. And a half. 

“Fuck yeah, that sounds rad. Not vampire erotica, is it?” Taako looks interested. Taako looks interested??

“Not this one, but my last one, yes? Yeah? Do you- are you. Interested in vampire erotica? I have a copy in my bag, I could even sign it for you-”

“Mmmmm,” Taako grins. He grabs Kravitz’s pen and scrawls a phone number right on top of his notes. He crosses his sevens. That’s so hot of him. “I’m illiterate. How about you dramatize it for me.”

“I can do that,” Kravitz manages, swallowing thickly. “I can do that. I, hey, you’ll be an expert in the plot when you walk away.” 

“Sweet,” Taako winks, turning and heading back to work. “I’m really into plot. ”

Kravitz sits there, stunned. He wonders if Taako’s serious, or if he’s just been fucked with. He wonders if he asks real nice, he can go ask for more whipped cream, cause his is gone, gone, gone like a freight train, or maybe a goofy sugar-crafted train like you’d ride to Candyland. Is there good infrastructure in Candyland? What’s their taxation like? Surely not great, right? It is a monarchy-

And then Taako jump-turns, stanced, and lifts his apron for one more “BLEHHHHHHHH!”

And Kravitz knows he’s got a chance. 

Notes:

Listen,

Chapter 33: boy enrichment

Summary:

taako brings angus to kravitz's game store

Notes:

im so tired. but i have so many of these more people should see? if you like,

“So like, I don’t know any of this nerd shit,” Taako says, flipping his hair a little. “But the lil’ man wants to play, and I want him to get to play, because the next time he gets the zoomies and I have to play Risk I’m gonna fuckin’ Risk It All, you know what I mean? No offence, Ango.” 

“None taken, sir! If I took offence at all of your flippant and seemingly disparaging comments made to distance yourself from real feelings and maintain the dangerously seductive comfort of irony, I’d be in a sorry state, probably!” Angus grins a great big gap toothed grin, not even looking at Taako, who just sort of accepts this as normal. Both of them look at Kravitz expectantly, and he, stunned, realized he’s meant to be formulating an answer and not just being more floored than the sad, sad fucking arcade carpet he won’t replace because he’d have to lose like, a WEEK of business. 

Also it’s vintage. 

“But I’m not!” Angus says, probably for Kravitz’s benefit, and also as a politer way to kick someone under the table, especially when you cannot kick under the counter of his game store. 

“Right,” Kravitz says. “So you want to play DnD.”

“Oh, more than anything, sir!” Angus does a little wiggle that betrays the absolute carbonated excitement lurking under his carefully controlled little bow-tie ass calm. “But even, perhaps, if it were possible to be more than anything and then more than that again, as how some infinities are larger than other infinities, as you may remember from the siren song of calculus, I really, really want to DM!”

“You want to DM?” Kravitz eyes the ten year old. Ten? He thinks Taako said ten. He might have also said five, and that’s definitely not true. Probably. No, definitely. Five is like double toddler. Right? Double and a half?

“Dungeon Master,” Angus says helpfully, opening his mouth and taking a thrilled deep breath to elaborate ‘for Kravitz’s benefit’. 

“Right. Well, sh- heck, young man, uh, I admire your enthusiasm,”

“Don’t worry, you can swear in front of me! I’m perfectly well aware of what sort of words you say in what sort of situations. In fact, I’ve been learning a lot about code-switching, and-”

“Hey, lil’man, you gotta win the sale to infodump,” Taako nudges in a stage whisper.

“Right!!!!!” Angus straightens up, vibrating like a Looney Toons arrow. “Regardless, would it be possible to DM at your game store Mr. Kravitz? I promise I would follow any rules and guidelines you set out as appropriate based on your store code of conduct, even if they’re stupid, and Taako can help me bring snacks if that is acceptable!”

Kravitz laughs, getting the hang of it now. He gets it. Maybe he doesn’t get Angus specifically yet, or even kids in general, but oh, does he recognize this flavor. And he would fucking love to enable it as far as he’s allowed. 

“You know what, I do think I have an open table. I’ll put out feelers and see who’s interested. Do you mind a rotating party, or would you prefer to lock in for a certain amount of time?”

“Hmmmm,” Angus says, screwing up his face and clearly mentally flipping through his campaign notes. “Let me consider and prioritize.”

“Yeah, you consider and prioritize, maybe shop around a little, and I’ll chat with your, uh,”

“Taako,” Taako smoulders, which provides no fucking context whatsoever. Who are you to him. ELABORATE!!

“Taako,” Kravitz agrees with a smile. 

Angus bolts off so fast to look at the campaign books and dice that he leaves an Angus-shaped cloud behind, and Taako and Kravitz stifle laughter, because it’s still not like, a huge store, and the little guy probably hears everything he isn’t supposed to. 

“Precocious,” Kravitz says fondly.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Taako sighs. “I can’t keep up with him half the time. But man, he cares so hard it wears a hole through me and when I eat it falls out of me like a cartoon skeleton.”

“So true.” Kravitz can’t help but laugh. They’re more the same than Taako may realize. They reek of the same vibe, like the kind of candle you wanna take a big bite out of. “He’s yours?”

“Insomuch as a stray cat is yours, you know?” Taako leans on the game counter and sigh, toying with his hair again, which Kravitz recognizes is a flirting technique and is somehow still kneecapped by. “Like, you can be like, hey, who the fuck lets cats outside? They’re gonna decimate the goddamn bird population, and then where will we be?”

“Ten percent less birdful,” Kravitz says, like that’s a reasonable thing any person has ever said on planet Earth, ever. 

Taako nods, which does nothing to discourage Kravitz’s bullshit. 

“But like, seriously, his legal guardians don’t do shit, and yadda yadda yadda,”

“Plot plot lore,  Kravitz agrees. 

“He’s mine, sort of. He comes and eats my food, at least, you know, when he doesn’t have to fight possums for it.” 

“Does the possum have a name?” Kravitz grins. 

“Garyl,” Taako says, whipping back just as fast. Fuck, Kravitz is obsessed with him. Damn, he had things to do. “He used to be a binicorn in another life, but he can’t escape the cycle, so he came back as a trash gargler. His favorite cheese is provolone.”

“Ooh, mild,” Kravitz says, so outside of himself at the moment that he could pause the livestream and do football drawings and commentary on his own stupid face putting these noises in this order. But Taako laughs, so it’s worth it. He looks at Angus, who is carefully inspecting the Bucket O’ Dice, and digging frantically for one he’s spotted in the very bottom. “I almost want to go open another pound of dice and pour them in, you know, for uh…boy enrichment.”

“Boy enrichment is the name of the game,” Taako agrees. “That tiger needs beefier meat pumpkins than cha’boi can provide. I can’t keep up with him, seriously. I was hoping maybe you’d know more about this shit?”

“Yeah, a little,” Kravitz massively understates, feeling a glowing, strong bond form between him and this alleycat of a kid. “I’d love to let him find his footing here, if you want. And if people want to be freaks about it, I’m not having it.”

“Fuck yeah,” Taako mumbles. “Knew I could trust a pretty guy like you. No one’s snapped you up yet?”

“Too goth and weird,” Kravitz laments, like he isn’t having a heart attack about being called pretty. “I’m as single as the day is long.” 

“Well, it’s Daylight Savings Time, bitch, and it’s about to get real dark.” 

“Are you-” Kravitz can’t help but laugh. “Are you announcing your intentions to pursue me?”

“Is it working?” Taako winks. 

“Yes,” Kravitz has to admit. “Yes it is.”

Chapter 34: taako's bad day

Summary:

taako recounts his bad day

"So not only did I drop my lunch, which, by the way, splattered all over the place like a delicious crime scene,"

"Definitely a delicious crime," Kravitz agrees, nodding. 

"Not only that, you know what also had to happen? I fucking went to get the mop to clean it up, and when I'm walking back I slipped on a meatball and hit my head on the counter-" 

"Oh, Taako…" 

"So not only do I nearly wind up the murder victim in my own CSI Marinara case, you know who fucking walks by while there are tears in my eyes?" One of the cats walks by and rubs against Taako's ankles, and Taako huffy softly, wanting to be annoyed. He reaches down and scratches Commodore Cheese Whiz behind his terrible little orange ears anyway. 

"Not-"

"Yep, fucking Derek. All ' hurga d'hyur, no sense in crying over spilled pasketti!' Like it was, for one thing," Taako picks up the cat and begins to gesture with him, which he seems to find greatly amusing, "Fucking aaany of his business, and second, trivial whatsoever, and C, some fucking jar sauce concoction?? Bitch, I rolled those goddamn meatballs by hand! I'll bet he doesn't even own a cast iron skillet!" 

Commodore Cheese Whiz beeps and Taako lets him down to rub terrible orange fur on Kravitz’s nice black slacks instead. Kravitz can't help but smile a little at his tremendously scary little teenage cat body, gangly and over-stretched and deadly soft. The most formidable enemy Kravitz has ever beheld.

"So after you murdered him and hid the body, what did you do?" 

"Fuck, I wish. Seeing that smug bastard every day lately has me wishing violence on everything that moves." Taako closes his eyes and sighs, leaning against the cabinets.

"I used my lunch time to run home and change, and I didn't even have time to eat. And then this weird rush hit and we were busy for ages, so I didn't really eat anything until shit slowed down around three, and at that point I really was ready to do a murder, so I made some eggs and hashbrowns and gobbled that up like some kind of raccoon on methamphetamines, and then the dinner crowd started to roll in."

"God, Taako, I'm sorry. That really does sound like a hell of a day. Does your head still hurt? Do you want me to look at it?"

"Nah, it's more of a dull ache now than the blood curdling gash it felt like in the moment." The cat hops up on the counter after two failed attempts and Taako lifts him back down, which the Commodore decides is another round of one of his favorite evil games. "Wouldn't mind a kiss, though."

"That can be arranged." Kravitz smiles and stands, taking Taako's hands gently but fondly in his. "Where on your head, exactly?"

"I think it was the mouth part," Taako says, grinning and swinging their hands between them. "But maybe I'm remembering wrong because of the brain damage." 

"I guess we'll have to take that chance," Kravitz sighs. "I only have so many healing kisses to provide, you know." 

Notes:

i have so many of these old ficlets is the thing, and they're just little? i don't want to annoy anyone?

Chapter 35: poison

Summary:

taako's in the hospital

Notes:

hospital/medical/attempted murder warning
also this has 666 words exactly

The world comes back to Taako with all the colors bleeding like a soggy cootie catcher, the notebook paper of reality wearing thin at the seams. It might have one more mystery to solve in it, and then it’s all over, the damn thing is trash. 

This is mush thoughts. Taako paws through half-formed concepts like he’s swimming in oatmeal prepared the way he hates it, all the little sticky chunks clinging to him and making him feel wrong. He really never has felt wronger. His whole body seems to be waging some kind of hideous crusade against him, and he doesn’t even know who to call about a fucking armistice of some sort. He blinks up at the ceiling and listens to the noises and smells the weird smells, but doesn’t really remember that he’s a full person until Kravitz comes back in the room. And then, of course, he lights right up. 

“Heyyyy, Kravvy.” Taako waves, but it’s the hand that’s got the hospital thing in it, and it feels weird. He frowns at it. It does nothing. He forgets this line of inquiry and looks at Kravitz again. 

“Hey, Taako,” Kravitz says softly, dropping his stuff in one ugleous chair and sitting in the other like he’s very familiar with this process by now. “How are you feeling?” He smiles a little bit, but his eyes are sad, and Taako wants to draw over them in sharpie until they look right. Kravitz never looks at him like that and it isn’t good for his delicate digestion. 

“Mmmm,” Taako muses, trying to connect the dots in an ant hill to make some kind of Pikachu, or train, or something. “I feel like I spilled gatorade in my backpack, but the backpack is my brain and the sticky homework is my body?” He gestures a wibbly-wonky gesture, with the wrong hand again. “I’m solving a mystery.”

“You mean how you got in the hospital? I mean, we could go over that again, but it kind of freaked you out last time-” Kravitz bites his lip and takes Taako’s good hand, his fingers always so cold and familiar. 

“Nah nah nah,” Taako says. “Just, I think…” Taako’s butterfly net is not collecting many ideas here. He might have a big hole in the damn thing. All the fuckers are flying right out. “I’ve never been this sick before, sorry, I just,” he laughs weirdly, and then laughs some more at how strange it sounds coming out of him. It isn’t very funny. “I’m kind of half-remembering- uh. This is stupid.”

“No, what?” Kravitz gives his hand a squeeze. Taako treasures the little gesture deeply. Shipwreck on the ocean floor deeply. 

“Did I, um,” Taako looks at the flowers and balloons and cards on his nightstand. And specifically not at the guy he’s been crushing on for an embarrassingly long, long time. “Did I confess my love for you, or anything dumb like that?”

“Four times.” Kravitz’s smile is audible. 

“F- four-” Taako’s thing beeps indignantly at his sudden pulse increase. “Four times, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? Oh. Okay. Just, just uh, just wondering.”

“Why, did you want to go for five?”

Taako wonders if the poison should have just full-on taken him out.

“Well,” he mumbles, finally looking at Kravitz, who does seem to be rather goofy-eyed in love and not disdainful and mean. Not that Taako expected him to be. Just a good ol’ anxiety boogeyman. “Five’s a nice round number, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it from you instead.” 

“Yeah, alright,” Kravitz says. “Taako, I love you.”

Taako’s monitor beeps aggressively now, and Taako waves his hand and shushes it out loud. 

“Say it again,” he says, face burning. 

“As many times as you want. I’m going to be here until you’re ready to go home. And if you don’t mind, I’ll say it there too. I love you, Taako.”

Taako giggles in a most undignified manner. 

“Fuck, I guess attempted murder isn’t all bad.”

Chapter 36: crunch!

Summary:

stompin on leaves with extra malice for No Reason,

Crunch. 

Crunch! 

Crunch.  

“Taako,” Kravitz starts, hesitant but gentle. “I’m beginning to think you’re upset about something.”

“I’m just stepping on leaves,” Taako snaps. “Can’t a guy enjoy the morbid gifts of Autumn’s dying breath?” 

“You know, I guess so.” Kravitz watches him go out of his way to stomp the next closest leaf, and the crack of his shoe against the pavement carries a lot of words left unsaid. “You just usually do it with a little more cheer. This, I mean, Taako, I’ve gotta say, this crunching is bordering on hostile.”

“You’re bordering on hostile!” Taako retorts cleverly, and he crushes another leaf under his tastefully purple boots. It doesn’t make nearly as satisfying a sound as he’d expected, because he kicks at what’s left of it and nearly trips on the uneven sidewalk. Kravitz reaches out to steady him, and Taako gives Kravitz a startled glance, caramelized in meaning and sprinkled in tension. 

“You good?” 

“What if I wasn’t good, what then, huh?” 

“Well,” Kravitz takes a breath, decides to do the foolish thing, and wraps his arm around Taako, pulling him close. Taako freezes beside him for a split second, but begrudgingly allows the touch, and they move on down the sidewalk in the brisk fall air. “I think I’d want to know about it, Taako. You’re my best friend. I don’t want you to be stompy. Or- at least, I want you to enjoy the stomping. You have murder in your heart today.”

“Maybe the murder was already there and you didn’t notice,” Taako grumbles, tucking himself into Kravitz’s half-embrace. But he clearly wants to spill the poisonous beans, and he huffs before giving in. “I- don’t laugh at me.”

“You know I won’t.”

“You don’t know that! I haven’t said it yet!”

“Taako.”

“Okay, fuck, fine, okay. Listen. I- I’m mad that fucker broke up with you.”

“What?” Kravitz isn’t exactly laughing. He was sort of incredibly avoiding talking about it. “Listen, Taako, you don’t need to be so upset on my behalf. I’ve calmed down, it’s fine. Clearly we weren’t exactly meant to be.”

“Well obviously! He’s stood you up more than he’s taken you out! He got you Walmart-ass discount flowers as a half-assed apology! You know what, I’m not even allowing him that much of a fraction. Honestly he’s a piece of shit and needs his thumbs screwed up his own-”

“Taako,” Kravitz says gently. “I’m not that upset. Why are you so upset?”

“Because-” Taako’s voice cracks a little, and he stops walking, and Kravitz has to stutter to a halt to not completely wipe him out without letting go. “Because you fucking deserve better, okay??”

“I gotta wonder,” Kravitz jokes. “My track record is not so hot. Lukewarm, I’d have to say, and that may be generous-”

“You’re fucking goofing! You’re goofing and I can’t stand it!” Taako stomps his tasteful purple boot again, and no leaves crunch underneath this time. Kravitz pulls his arm back and takes in Taako’s stormy expression, figuring he may need to rethink his umbrella strategy. 

“Taako?”

“I’m serious, Krav, you deserve better! You deserve someone who cherishes your goofass! Someone who loves it when you sing those dumb made up songs! Someone-”

Something clicks, and reality seems to shift thirty-five degrees to the right. It’s enough to set off Kravitz’s stomach like a shoddily-put-together carnival ride. 

“Someone like you?” 

Taako looks like he’s going to cry. 

“I- I-” he stutters, and then chews his lip--just as purple as his boots. “I’m not good enough for you.” 

“Oh, fuck that!” Kravitz is almost angry. “You think- you think you’re not good enough? For my goofass? You- you think we couldn’t be perfect together??” 

“What, and you do??”

“So what if I do!”

“I’d like to fucking know if you did!” Taako balls up his fists and stomps his foot again. “You drive me fucking bonkers, you know that?”

“Oh, I drive you bonkers? You’re standing here declaring your love for me and putting yourself down in the same breath and I’m supposed to what, just take that?” 

“You think that was a fucking declaration of love? I’ll show you a goddamn declaration of love! I love your stupid cheesy ass and everything about you and the dumb songs you sing in the morning and the dorky way you dress and I love how you go off about your nerd shit and it drives me fucking bananas to see you date guys who don’t appreciate every fucking inch of you like I do! But what am I supposed to do?”

“I’ll tell you what to fucking do. You know what you oughta fucking do?”

“What!” 

They’re standing right in the middle of the sidewalk shouting at each other like the world is crunching down around their ears, not even a full inch between their faces, tears in their eyes, emotion in their chests, and somehow it seems just about inevitable. 

“You should fucking kiss me, asshole!”

“Make me!”

And the tension has snapped like a steel cable, and their previous relationship is careening down to the craggy rapids below, but Taako is climbing Kravitz like a tree and Kravitz is kissing him back like he stole all of the oxygen out of the atmosphere and Taako’s hands are in his hair and Kravitz is supporting Taako by the ass and the world has completely changed--on the other side, something new, something better, something very, very similar...with one vital change. 

After ages and ages, they manage to separate, bonking their foreheads together affectionately and laughing softly, out of breath and lightheaded and seeing hearts where vital visual information may or may not be. 

“Stupid,” Taako breathes. “Sorry for yelling at you.”

“Yeah, me too,” Kravitz manages, and kisses Taako on the nose. “I fucking love you. You get me so worked up. Can’t fucking believe--are you serious, you didn’t think you were good enough for me? For- fuck, Taako, for how long?”

“Shut up!” Taako’s face is burning, and Kravitz groans. 

“Really,” he mutters. “Like I’m some catch.”  

“Well-!” Taako splutters, and Kravitz just has to laugh. 

“Let’s go home. I have some ideas for warming up.” 

And Taako can’t argue with that. 

Chapter 37: listen to the noise

Summary:

taako's a werewolf. kravitz doesn't mind

Notes:

ANYONE ELSE BEEN OVERSTIMULATED LATELY?

Listen! Sometimes you’re so close to going fucking insane that you have to push the final button yourself. You know? Sometimes you’re the camel and you’re so goddamn tired of all the goddamn straw–oops! How did that Last Straw get on there? Too late! You know ? You’re the bug and the boot and you’re the squish and the stain and the absence, you’re the noise and the noise and the noise and the noise. 

Seems like Taako is always the noise, these days. It’s easy to be the noise. It’s easy to fill a room to the brim–to drop a flashbang and know people fucking saw something, they’ll remember something, but he got to pick what that something was. A lot harder to just… be in a space. Existing makes Taako itchy. Makes him feel like his skin’s about to peel off and his bones are gonna crack and warp and hideously reach for the gentle light of the moon, like he’s him and he’s a monster and the monster is him and he is the monster, always the monster–

It may or may not be that time of the month. Which pisses him off, as he sits there noodling on the keyboard in their big hollow practice space. Whale fall of a band hall, the exposed ribs holding up the ceiling, the walls at a half-perceptible angle that no badge-wearing bitch ever could have signed off on, and when it’s full? When that parking lot is full, when all the bottom feeders have come to feast? Man, you can feel it in your bones. 

There are two ways to feel alive, and neither one is good for Taako’s blood pressure. 

He hammers on the keys, skin too fucking tight, heart beating too fucking fast, and his tempo is burning garbage, and those nasty neighbor kids left firecrackers in the trash again. He’s not even supposed to be here. He had a prior engagement. He had plans. He had hopes, once, dreams, even, but honestly, how embarrassing. He wants to rip and bite and tear and kill. He wants to riff so hard he forgets his name. He should get his guitar and plug it in instead, but he’s on the edge, and if something shoves him bodily over it, careening for a hard pause, he’ll fuck up the strings again and get in trouble. They aren’t famous enough yet to just break stuff. But oh, when that day comes…

Keyboard it is, until he can hold his claws back. D, D, B flat, C– no, no, no, fuck, it never sounds right. What the fuck was Magnus thinking? Idiot doesn’t have ears that perk at every passing car in the night. (Or…does he? He’ll have to google if bears have good hearing later.) He’s got his own problems, yeah, but Taako isn’t being understanding right now, he’s being an absolute bitch, and he can hardly stand himself. Break him open, he’ll be bright as super nova full of glow stick acid. How can anyone expect him to be calm and nice and good, not least himself? No wonder no one wants him. Easier to be the flashbang, to be the noise. 

“Taako?”

D, D, B flat, C– it isn’t going to work, not with these lyrics. What were they thinking? 

“Taako…”

“Fuck off,” Taako growls. Kravitz does not, in fact, fuck off. He’s incorrigible that way, always turning up like a bad penny. Maybe a counterfeit penny. This one is smiling. Makes you think, why shouldn’t the guy be pleased with himself once in a while? 

Smug fucker. 

“I’m not going to ask,” Kravitz says, being all understanding or some shit. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Sweet, I won’t, thanks for the permission, guy.” Taako hammers on all the keys at once. Maybe if Kravitz opens his mouth again he’ll straight up sit on the stupid thing. 

“But I could pick up drums or bass, if you want to jam?”

“I don’t want to jam. Unless we’re talking a fork in an electrical socket.” 

Kravitz nods like this isn’t a middle-school ass answer. Taako’s hardly thinking- well, hardly thinking at all, let alone clearly. Kravitz knows he’s pissed. Maybe if he were like Taako, he’d smell it on him, but you could have no nose at all and pick up on it right now, honestly. 

God, Taako wishes Kravitz could understand. 

“He stood me up,” he says, still feeling mean, mean, mean, fury burning up his bloodstream. “And you know what? You know how stupid- I thought this time would be different. Fucking-” he doesn’t have any words to follow. He wants to spit acid. Kravitz doesn’t seem bothered enough for him, as he swings himself up onto the stage. Stupid bastard ignoring the stairs to look cool. He’s feeling something, but Taako can’t figure it out. All the senses in the world don’t add up if you can’t focus to do the math. It’s just noise. 

“I’ll kill him and eat him for you, if you want,” Kravitz says, sitting heavily at the drumset. He starts tapping a countoff, setting the pace. 

“Nah,” Taako says, oddly touched. “He’s probably poisonous. Lawyer.”

“Fuck,” Kravitz says. “What are you doing, fucking lawyers?” He starts in on the drum solo of one of their best songs, and not one to miss a beat, Taako joins him. He wishes he could trust himself on the guitar right now. He needs to slam that motherfucker into another dimension. 

“I can fuck whoever I want.”

“You can, no judgment, just- Like you said. Poisonous.” Hard to hear him over the set. The noise beats in Taako’s chest, and he loves it. 

“Yeah. Maybe I’ve got a taste for it.” 

“Blegh,” Kravitz says, fully sticking his tongue out like a third grader. Taako’s surprised into laughing. 

“Yeah, alright, maybe I’m sulking. Shut up.” 

Kravitz snickers. The impending chorus looms. 

“Seriously, fuck whatever you like.”

“You don’t care?”

“Do you want me to care?” Kravitz doesn’t miss a beat. Asshole. 

What’s Taako supposed to say? He’s cornered.

“No,” he says, audibly delayed. 

Kravitz shakes his head. They miss the first chorus. 

“Cause if you want me to care, you know I will.”

“I do.” Taako’s skin writhes. He doesn’t want to talk. He just wanted to make noise. “I- I don’t know. Maybe I’m poisonous. I’ll bite you and you’ll die.” 

“Venomous?”

“ Nerd .”

Kravitz cocks his head, not denying it. 

“I’m not afraid of your teeth.”

“Maybe you should be!” 

“Nah.” 

They both stop playing. The hall creaks, the silence echoes. 

Taako looks at him. 

“I know, Taako.” Kravitz fiddles with his sticks. “You want me to just say stuff? I’ll stop quipping. I know.” 

Taako stares at him. 

“What are you, some kind of were-chaser?” 

Kravitz laughs, startled. 

“I mean, it doesn’t turn me off- ”

“Jesus!” Taako walks away from the keyboard, pacing. “You know? You know- and-”

“And I’d still kiss you.” 

“Hard to kiss with all those teeth,” Taako grumbles. 

“Tell me to fuck off, and I will. But you have to mean it.” Kravitz folds his arms. Taako looks at him. Kravitz stares right back. 

There’s no way Taako isn’t giving him pathetic sad puppy eyes right now. His night has sucked too bad, and he got too mad, and now he just feels like a stuffed animal dropped in the bathtub. 

“Can I make you dinner?” Kravitz asks, a little softer. Fucker. Knowing Taako’s too riled to go out right now. Damn him so hard. 

“No chance in hell,” Taako says pleasantly, even though his voice cracks nasty. “Cause that is poisonous. Buy me steak.”

“Yeah,” Krav says, giving him the biggest, mooniest eyes. “Anything you like.”

Notes:

big stuff in the works...slowly................. im getting through work atm but it's good to keep the taz heart beating. enjoy this and get pumped for the Projects i have in store for you like. in a bit. fingers crossed

Notes:

share a comment if you enjoy it! let me know if you want to see the rest of the hundreds of these guys i have locked in the vault

that taz love lives on!

thanks!!