Aquarium Autocognita

by M1ND_PA1NT

Summary:

After the incident at the bar, Cuttlefish thought they'd have to give up all of paradise.

A chance meeting with a familiar face, however, proves otherwise... They learn a bit more about their tastes, and a bit more about themself along the way.

Notes:

• For giraffeyla10.

Chapter 1: Stormy Weather

Raindrops beat heavily on the metal overhang above them.

 

Dark grey clouds dominated a stormy Friday afternoon, ensuring everything was soaked, puddles forming in the road in front of them as a sole Inkling caught their breath. They let out an exhausted groan as they shook their head, "…'Uv all th' days fer Lady Luck t' throw her scaly fins up an' leave me beached…"

What had started as a normal commute home turned to a nightmare for one Creighton S. Cuttlefish as their beloved Shellvy Dutchman broke down along the road leading out of Inkopolis, its battery shorting out from the damp weather that's plagued the region… Thankfully their mechanic said she would be able to fix it, but it would take a day or two to get a new battery and terminal connectors from the manufacturer due to the holiday… so what else was there to do but hoof it home the only other way they knew? It seemed like a sound plan…. at least until the storm rolled in and rained hell upon them.

Caught with no umbrella, they were left with no option but to cover themself with their briefcase (which did nothing to keep them dry).

They managed to quickly find their way to this bus terminal, taking refuge from the mauling rain, but they were drenched to the cuttlebones. Water trickles off the sides of their beard. Little drops fell from their tentacles, sprinkling onto their black squared lenses as they tried to wipe them off, slipping them back on. They propped their elbows on their knees, burying their face in their bony hands, their glasses slipping up their head, "….I really hope tha' ol' hunk'a metal gits here soon…"

That's when they hear a soft rattling sound clang from their left as a huge gust blows past, accompanied by the clicking of footsteps and the slightly panicked mumbling of someone approaching… and quick too. The other person nearly trips over themselves trying to keep their umbrella from completely folding in on itself from the wind, clattering the plexiglass barrier softly as their back hits it…. a sigh of exasperated relief leaving their beak.

"…Oh, thank Colaeacanth… you're a rather finicky thing, aren'tcha…"

Creighton's ears perk up, looking up to see who it was.

They were greeted by a rather familiar face shaking the rain off their umbrella and closing it up… his clothes were damp, but not as much as their own. He had a tote-bag full of papers at his side, seeming unaffected by the rain. But it was his vibrant ocean-blue eyes and midnight purple ink that drew out his name from the reporter's exhausted mind.

"…Andi? 'S that you…?"

The Inkling turned to face them, his face flickering with shock. "Oh my sea stars… Cici!" He quickly came over, dipping to meet their eye level with dismay, "Cici, dear, what are you doing all the way out here like this?"

"…M' car broke down… tryin' t' catch th' train back t' Calamari."

Andi slides onto the bench next to them, "…Oh dear… it'll be fixed, right?"

"Yeah, but Laborer's Day has all th' factories closed up, so Marnie can't git th' parts t' do th' work 'til Sunday at soonest. 'Til then, I'm wit'out a car, and th' paper don' reimburse receipts fer taxi fare." They shake their head sadly, "…I dunno what I'ma do 'til then."

The bartend taps his chin, thinking a bit on it… and an idea came to light.

"…Y'know, Cici… if you need a lift right to Calamari County, I'd be happy to help."

Creighton blinks, turning to him, "…Don't y' have t' tend th' bar t'night?"

Andi shakes his head. "Nope. I'm closed until Monday… this is about the time of year when I usually handle my license renewals and re-verify my suppliers." He'd gesture to the bag of papers, "I was just down at the county offices getting all of that squared away… thankfully I caught the Clerk before he left for the day, so everything's in order."

The reporter glances away briefly, "I'd also hate t' put y' through all th' trouble."

"Cici," Andi gently chirps, putting a hand on their shoulder, "…I'm offering."

A soft chime comes from the screen beside them, a message blinking below the bus route information, displayed in a box with yellow outlines.

=====

– Service notice for all Inkopolis Transit Authority riders –

Due to inclement weather affecting road conditions across the Inkopolis Metro,
the following bus routes are expected to experience major delays:

25 (Kanimiso Line) [ ~ 30m ]
3 (Ikasaburo Line) [ ~ 30m ]
82 (D'Alfonsino Museum) [ ~ 45m ]
51A (Inkcadia University Medical Center West) [ ~ 1 hr 15 m ]
33 (Inkopolis RTC/Suzushima Station) [ ~ 3 hrs ]
60 (Inkblot Art Academy/Yuzusoe-Mizuna Line) [ TBD - Major Disruption ]

We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, and appreciate your patience.

======

Creighton stared at the screen… then turns to Andi with a tired look.

"….If y're sure 'bout it… I'll take yer offer. It's a bit 'uva drive, though…"

"I don't mind," the bartend hummed, helping the reporter to their feet. "My car isn't that far away from here. Follow me."

And the two would exit the bus terminal, shielded from getting further soaked by Andi's (slightly mangled) umbrella.

 

They walk the last few blocks, coming upon a mossy green Umine hatchback with a parking permit in the windshield.

Andi unlocks the front passenger-side door, holding it open for the other Inkling to climb in first. Creighton climbs in, pulling the seat belt over themself, followed by Andi climbing into the driver's seat with a groan.

"Now," the bartend notes, "I'm not too familiar with how to get to Calamari, so you might need to guide me part of the way there."

"That is entirely fine wit' me," the Inkling groaned, "…Just take the Inkopolis Expressway north 'til you see the exit leadin' to th' Sakurai Corridor. From there, y' just turn t' git on the westbound span an' keep drivin'."

Andi seems surprised at how simple the task would be.

"….It's a lot easier from this part 'a town… way worse when y're drivin' from out where the Inkwell offices are near Flounder Heights. I usually hafta take a shortcut t' keep from gettin' spun ont' the toll road that connects Ikano Street t' the Expressway."

A turn of the ignition ignites a warm purr… and the gentle simmer of a working heater, much to both the Inklings' relief.

He removes the permit from the windshield, sliding it into the glovebox before they take off towards the Expressway, following the signs leading to the Sakurai Corridor.

 

Creighton rested their eyes as the zippy little vehicle makes its way westward, thankful to be finally going home.

Chapter 2: Calamaric Hospitality

It was just starting to get dark when they passed the signs marking out the path into Calamari County, the little mossy green hatchback zipping along the Corridor until it reaches a turn-off. Open road turns to small farm houses lining the streets of Otsumami Terrace, a quaint little neighborhood not too far from the orchards. Andi follows the barely-paved roads, the drive eventually leading them to a quaint two-story home with porter windows. This was the Cuttlefish home, where Creighton had raised their family, now mostly an empty nest with the kids all grown up.

The small, sporty car pulls slowly into the driveway, the ignition turned off. The rain pattered across the windshield, now obscured with the lack of windshield wipers running to keep it clear.

The reporter sighs softly, the exhaustion setting in even deeper, "…Thanks fer givin' me a ride, Andi."

The bartend smiles warmly, leaning his arms casually on the padded steering wheel.
"Ey… It's no problem, Cici. How often do we get to talk like this?"

"…Not often, admittedly. But…" They would turn to face him, a look of concern filling their face, "…Are you gonna be okay gettin' home?" 

Andi looks up to Creighton, his face full of confusion, "….Mm?"

"County roads tend t' have loads 'a problems at night. And wit' the weather, I'd hate fer y' t' get stranded in a place like this, 'specially wit' all the potholes that usually like t' make themselves known when—" A small flash in the clouds a few miles south drew out a loud, thunderous roar, startling the two Inklings with the noise. A sense of urgency seeped out from their face as the pouring rain grew heavier, slowly becoming a deluge. "…I-I think you'd better come inside. Them clouds be lookin' like they gon' get uglier… an' I know fer a fact theys gon' git louder."

"….Are you sure? I'd hate to intrude."

Creighton opens the door to the car, climbing out from the front passenger seat rather quickly, holding their briefcase over their head once more.

"I'm cert'in…. Come on. It's better than sittin' out here in soaked khakis."

And the two would get out of the car, locking it up and entering the home.

==

The Cuttlefish household was rather rustic in its interior, yet still held contemporary charm to it in the form of painted walls and nice, well-kept hardwood laminate. The furniture was more modern, but it made the rooms feel a bit more homey, especially in a living room dominated by a rather comfortable, worn couch. Traditional weave rugs and tapestries decorated the space, with an electric fireplace having replaced the old wood-fire one many years ago. Although the house seemed plain and back-woodsy from the outside, it was surprisingly kept up-to-date with the times – indoor heating and air, modern plumbing, ground-line electric, and a vintage looking television set over in the corner, decorated with a doily made by his son in home economics.

Photos of the Cuttlefish family and one from the Army days decorate the mantle, bringing a little life to the space… making it feel like home.

The two groan with relief as the warmth of the room hits their exhausted cuttlebones, dipping towards the sun room, which also served as the household's laundry room. Creighton pulls out two stands with pegs to hold drying poles, setting a towel below them. They turn to face Andi, not realizing he had already started stripping off his soaked clothes. The sight sent a wave of fuzziness over their body, flustering at the sight of him unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his waistcoat vest, sliding his clothes piece by piece onto the poles so they could drip-dry. Creighton grabs another warm towel from the cabinet, handing it to him so he could dry the rest of himself off, storming ahead to the house's equally rustic kitchen so his flustered expression was hidden.

Andi blinks with confusion, following behind quietly.

The bartend sits at the kitchen table, wearing nothing but his (thankfully still dry) boxers, shoulders wrapped in that warm fuzzy towel. His midnight-purple tentacles are let down, draping to just about shoulder length, his monocle covered in small specks of water. The scent of freshly brewing tea wafts through the air, aromatic and welcoming. Everything was quiet, spare for the bubbling of the kettle on the recently-installed electric cook-top.

Despite the fact they're nearly soaked to the cuttlebones, Creighton remained fully dressed, spare for their suit jacket (also hanging in the laundry room). The bartend was a guest, so although it was uncomfortable and it was their own home (so they could do as they pleased), they refused to be so casually uncouth with his appearance. They felt the idea was a bit… crass, given their relationship was strictly platonic… whatever that was supposed to mean.

Once the tea was done steeping, they brought two porcelain tea cups over to the table, pouring the warm, fragrant concoction into Andi's first. The bartend takes a deep sip, the liquid bringing a wash of warmth over his body as he leaned back in his chair. He sighed with the sweetest smile on his angled face, looking up to his host.

"….So….Cici.… Is it just you here, or…?"

Creighton pours themself a cup, taking a seat at the table, "Fer now, yes. Normally, it's me an' my son livin' here togeth'r."

Andi looks up, raising a brow, "…Really? Your boy still lives at home?"

"Yeah. Although Allen's been off wit' the Navy fer a few months now continuin' his trainin'. He's s'pposed t' come back home Sunday fer a bit 'uv shore leave. I can't lie, it's been a bit lonely wit'out 'im, but I'm damn proud 'uv 'im fer takin' th' leap an' goin' fer a commissi'n t' get up the ranks."

"…Yeesh, Cici… I can only imagine the kid must be working his tail fins off…"

The Inkling chuckles, "Yeah, well… it's what he wanted t' do fer 'imself. I wasn' much different when I joined th' Army as a teenager…."

The two sipped their tea, having a rather involved conversation. Creighton shares their crazy stories from before the war, all the hijinks… they seemed rather jovial as they blabbed on, the sky outside the windows getting darker as the rain washed over the roads. While Andi went on his own tangents, the Inkling couldn't help but look at just how toned the man was. He had a narrower build than even their own, with a small chest patch of tentacles. His smile, his physique…. wait, what the fuck were they doing? He's only a friend.

Why the fuck are they staring at their friend's nearly naked body?

 

Soon enough, their cups were empty.

Creighton scooted their chair back a bit, groaning as they stand up. Andi looks up with concern, "…You alright, Cici?"

"Y-Yeah. I'm fine. I jus' need t' stretch a lil' bit… sittin' too long makes m' cuttlebones ache. Gits me all stir-crazy and need t'—" They walk towards the bay window, when all of a sudden they slip on a small drip puddle that had formed beside their chair.

"—EGH!"

The bartend quickly dives to catch them as their face smacks the edge of the table, stopping their fall short of the linoleum tile below. Their glasses clatter nearby, unharmed from their impact.

"Easy there…! You alright, Cici?"

"I-I think so…" the Inkling groaned, holding their head a little. They awkwardly chuckle,"…G'ess I didn' notice til' too late that th' floor was a lil'…." They look up, seeing Andi looking straight at them.

"…Wet..."

The two sat there, looking each other right in the eyes for a moment. It was like time stopped for a brief moment, Creighton's arms supported by the bartend's gentle grip.

Andi's hand raises up gently to examine Creighton's face, concern in his own, "…You've got a bruise under your eye… Think you smashed along the edge."

The Inkling winces as he touches around the right-half of his eyemask,
"…Gah… I didn' ev'n notice 'til now…."

Andi slinks onto his feet, pulling the Inkling along with him, "…Let's get you laid on the couch, and I'll grab an ice pack. Okay?"

"…A-Alright."

The bartend hoists his companion up and onto the couch, laying them across it with their head elevated a little. A soft groan would ebb from their beak as he goes to quickly grab a cold compress from the icebox, wrapping it in a tea towel and coming quickly back. However, he forgets to note a small difference in the ledging when moving between the tile and laminate, tripping over himself. He panics, trying not to eat shit in the hardwood, finally losing his footing and tripping over the coffee table, shutting his eyes before coming to a flumped stop.

Andi jolts at a sudden yelp of surprise from below him, looking at what he's landed upon… only to find Creighton staring at him, face glowing bright orange. His face quickly becomes drowned in a sea of deep purple fluster.

"S-Shit, Cici! I'm so sorry!! Are you oka–"

They groan as their head flops back onto the pillow, "I-I'm fine, Andi."

He slightly panics, checking them over, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Andi, clam down… y' didn't break anythin' –" The bartend pulls over the compress, placing it onto their bruised cheek, sending a jolt through their ink. "– AH! COLD, COLD, COLD!"

Andi quickly pulls it away, ears drooping nervously, "Sorry!"

"I-It's alright. R-Really…. (It's jus'….)"

"Just what….?"

"U-Um…."

 

It felt like everything was buzzing within their body.

The closer Andi came to their face trying to inspect their bumps and scrapes, the tighter that knot in their core wound up. Their hearts began to race, pounding away from a sudden rush of adrenaline… but they didn't seem to… mind this? It almost felt like their body wanted to heat up further, an ache between their thighs growing brighter with every bump against their skin, every soft breath skittering past their neck sending shivers down their non-existent spine.

"….Cici?"

"…What… is this…."

"What's what, dear?"

"….Some'in feels like it's rushin' through my ink… i-it feels like I'm burnin' up… an'… ev'rythin' feels a lil' bit fuzzy."

Andi leans up, confusion seeped in his face as he looked the Inkling over. His hands felt down their sides to figure out if there was some injury or spasm that he had missed…. but a chance squeeze of his grip in just the right spot drew a breathy gasp…

…and waxed out the most airy moan to ever come from the Inkling's lips.

Andi's face jolts with shock and embarrassment. Creighton's jolts in horror, their long ears and cheekbones growing bright orange, almost glowing a bright neon hue as they covered their beak with one hand. The other gripped onto the bartend's exposed forearm, trembling. His hands stopped right where they were, twitching.

A huff of surprise leeches from his beak, left speechless at the sound.
"…I-I didn't expect that…. t-that you….um…."

"I-I'm jus' as confused as you are….A-Andi. Is… is this what it feels like t' go int' tha'…. heat…. feelin'…. whatchamacallit….?"

"…You mean… Arousal?"

"Y-Yeah," Creighton stammered, "…I-I think that's what they called it… a' least. T-That's wha' this is…? This tight feelin' all up in m' gut…."

Andi gave an awkward nod. His own body began to feel odd… in his mind, he rambled – <Fuck, what do I even say here… I-I mean, I know I'm fine with playing both teams, but… is this even what they want….?> This was probably the most anxious he had ever felt in his years…. he respected Cici, he wouldn't want to do any—

 

"…Andi?"

 

The bartend snapped out of his thoughts, looking right at the Inkling.

"…Y' alright?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine. I just didn't… expect to end up in a… situation like, um, this…"

A soft, but heavy huff ebbs from the Inkling's beak, their coppery-gold irises shimmering as they reflected the glow of the kitchen light. The evening light beamed in, acting as if it were key light, brightening the shadows, showing off every little detail. Their button-down dress shirt and khaki dress slacks were still damp, sticking to their skin, although their body heat had began to dry the fabric very slowly. The bartend could see every curve, every edge of his former colleague under it… making it very clear to him that they were quite enjoying the contact but didn't have the words to describe it.

"T-This is a first fer me… I-I don'…. usually feel this."

"…Really?"

Creighton shakes their head. "…Havin' someone act this tender t' me… bein' so gentle wit' me… it jus' make me feel…. fuzzy. In m' head, it feels so odd, like it should b' wrong… but…. ev'rythin' else makes it all feel jus' peachy…."

Andi's other hand gently scales up to their shoulder.

"…I-I hate t' ask this of y', Andi…. but…. c-could y' maybe… do that ag'in?"

The bartend pauses, his pointed ears flicking in embarrassment as he gives a soft nod, flushed the same warm, midnight purple as the rest of his face, its hue coursing through his rosy brown skin. He gently resumed his movement, scrolling his right hand further down, making Creighton's body shiver with delight…. all the while leaning further and further forward, until a scant gap remained between their faces, the Inkling's arm gently perched on the arm of the couch behind them.

Creighton's hand gently cupped Andi's ear…

...And almost as if by instinct, they two pulled each other close, lips meeting warmly as they close the gap. It was chaste… but gradually grew deeper, the bartend's hips pushing into theirs as their beaks danced in tune to one another, breaths growing heavy and soft chirps bleeding in between kisses. Sweet honey and huckleberry melded together, mixing into an almost intoxicating cocktail of affects.

The hand stops shy of the fold of their hip and thigh…. squeezing gently.

 

A harsh jolt ran through Creighton's ink, adrenaline suddenly kicking into overdrive.

A wave of fear crashed over them. This felt wrong somehow…. was it really okay for them to be doing this? This wasn't his lover… hell, something like this was morally reprehensible. Cod forbid the possibility that someone spots them, and they come clambering after the both of them for sodomy. Something in their hearts screamed at them to kick him off, to send him packing, to get out of that encounter and fast, so that both he and they wouldn't get hurt. That if he kept at this, he would be no better than those women who…. who….

It made him afraid. He was trapped.

But… at the same time… he knew Andi would never do anything wrong to them. The man has too much respect for him – and this man knew what to do the night that happened, probably saving their life in the process by being so supportive of their pain. Would you really go as far to assume that they acted like that with ulterior motives…? It's unthinkable…

Something about it felt so wrong, yet it felt so coddamn right.

They needed this… but they couldn't fathom why.

 

That fuzzy feeling overtook Andi's ink, soft steam-like huffs of breath leaving his beak, brushing against the other's lips. They shared a chuckle, both parties clearly not expecting to be tangled up together in such a manner.

"…Well, then…. tha' was… um… s-some'in else…"

"…Y-Yeah. I-It sure was… Cici…"

The Inkling shuffled slightly underneath the bartend's weight, trying to make themself more comfortable… Their face was held in muted wonder, gradually brightening until they were unable to keep their curiosities at bay any longer.

"….Would… you be willin' to… teach me th' rest…?"

"Y-Yes, of course. I'd be happy to…" Andi looks over at the bay window, realizing that someone could potentially see into the house and spot them. Knowing what this looks like (and probably is about to devolve into)… they worried it might cause trouble for their companion. "…Although maybe we should take this upstairs. Something in the back of my head is telling me we might need to seek out a better setting. You know… so we would have a little more privacy."

Creighton nods, sitting up a bit more with a rough groan. "M-My room's upstairs. First door to th' right on th' upper level."

The bartend nods, slinking his hands to wrap the Inkling's legs around his midsection.

He then hoists them up, supported by their arms wrapping under his for stability. Andi's hand slips, getting a good grip on their buttock, elliciting a gasp of pleasure from Creighton's beak. Ensuring to grab their glasses on the way, the two scale the steps to the second story… turning the corner and gently pushing through the warm wooden door with a huff.

He sets the Inkling down on their bed… then shuts the door with a soft click.

Chapter 3: Midnight Glow

Creighton's bedroom was just as quaint as the rest of the Cuttlefish home.

It had cream-colored walls, an attached full-size bathroom, a medium-size closet, and two dual-pane windows covered with blinds and curtains. Their bed was decently sized, once big enough for both them and their wife to sleep in together. Now the whole Queen-sized mattress was all theirs, solely occupied by themself for all those years after the divorce.

A calendar hung on the wall, right beside the light switch – small notes in brown-orange ink decorated the days, keeping track of deadlines for editing jobs and what interviews he had scheduled, each marked in short-hands for their respective stories. It was only May 1st… and Goldie Week was to begin on Monday, giving him a few days of rest… but after that, it was the start of brand new school years, college entrance ceremonies, Summer Wear Showcases…. and all the deadlock work that came with it.

Andi's tentacles ached in empathy, knowing he was going to be swamped at the bar the whole month… but a day was marked out on it with a small star sticker - the 17th, set to be Creighton's 100th birthday. (Cod, they really were older than he thought… but the more amazing part was that they didn't look it. Must be something about being a King Inkling that makes you age differently.)

(Perhaps he should do something nice to help them celebrate the occasion…)

The bartend gently approached the bed, coming to sit next to the Inkling. His nimble fingers slowly undid their shirt, button by button.

"…I ain' gon' lie t' ya, Andi," Creighton listlessly mused, "I… didn' think I'd ev'r be in a sit'at'n like this."

"…Well…. everybody's gotta have a first. Admittedly, this isn't my first tango, but… it's not like I've really been with anyone either."

"Really?" the Inkling hummed, not quite expecting the other to say that, "…I woulda thought considerin' how kind an' darlin' y' are t' people that they'd be all over y's!"

"… Not… really? It's hard to find people who really want to sit and talk, let alone be seen with a man in my line of work."

"…'Cause 'a the booze?" Creighton asked innocently.

"No, it's the fact I'm a man running a drag bar in the most conservative part of town. You know that despite our popularity, queer folk are still the biggest target of violence in this screwed-up society… you've seen it first-hand, Cici."

The Inkling sighs and sadly nods.

Andi looks away, a small wave of guilt in his ocean-blue eyes. "…It makes the women disgusted when they find out who I hire and manage… and it makes the men unwilling to come near me, either because I'm too soft to be seen as a man in their eyes since I don't commit common atrocities or they're too afraid that they'll be caught in the crossfire of another hate crime."

Creighton takes up his hands, holding them together.

"….Well, it's a cryin' shame. Y're a splendid feller, an' damn good at what y' do. Y' respect ev'ry one 'uv yer girls like theys yer sisters, ensurin' they're validat'd an' accept'd whenev'r they come fer their shift… jus' like y' did fer me when I worked wit' ya. If they can't see that, they ain' w'rth yer damn time, boy."

Andi looks up to the Inkling, his expression filled with endeared awe, spirits lifting, "….You think so?"

"I know so," they assured. "An' I know gold when I see it, darlin'."

The bartend beamed brightly, undoing the last button, sliding the sleeves off of Creighton's arms, revealing their sandy skin. Their belt jangles as it is unbuckled and loosened, allowing their slacks to slide off easily, leaving them only in camo-grey boxer shorts. Andi then reaches over Creighton, going to set his monocle right next to the Inkling's glasses. The bartend blinks, almost as if something got in his eye.

"Y' good?"

Andi chuckles awkwardly, "…Gah… I forget how weird everything looks without it on. Thank Colaeacanth it's only in my left side…"

The Inkling perks up, "….Eh? I always thought tha' thing was a prop."

"Nope. Monocular retinal myopia due to a birth defect…. underwent an at-the-time experimental surgery to manually reconstruct my pupil and internal lens, as they never properly developed in on that side. Thanks to the wonders of medicine, I can sort of see… but everything's a bit… skewed. Think like it like one of your eyes likes to turn to a fun-house mirror after a certain distance. I much prefer this over what it was like growing up, though… even if the eye patch was seen as pretty cool by my pod-mates."

"…Huhhh…"

"A-Anyway…" The bed creaked gently as Andi came closer into his ear. "…If… you ever feel uncomfortable… or… need to stop in general…. just say the word "lavender". I-I know it sounds odd, but… I wouldn't want to accidentally hurt you at all if I'm doing something wrong… okay?"

The Inkling's face flared hotter as they nodded quite profusely.

The bartend chuckled, gently pushing Creighton back on the bed, settling their head on the cushions and ensuring they were comfortable… he then came slinking up, slotting between their thighs with a smile. Just seeing Andi without his shirt on was embarrassing enough… but here he was now, leering over them near completely naked, with the only thing standing in the way of their bodies practically melting together being the thin fabric of their boxers. Creighton pulled him harshly in for another snog, with Andi placing the weight of his hips against theirs as their tongues danced. Their legs spread and propped themselves up on either side of the bartend's, their arms gently coiled around his shoulders, their hearts racing, chasing down this new feeling…. these… sensations. That heat grew and grew, firmly panting itself between their thighs, the friction shared between them forming sparks in their core.

Andi breaks the kiss, leaning into their ear again as his hand grazes the waistband of their boxers. "….Are you okay with me removing these…?"

Creighton gazed down at his hand, then back to him. They had to make a decision…. was it now or never…? After a moment of thinking… they grab Andi's hand gently as he goes to move it away. They looked him straight in the eyes.

"….I'm completely okay with it… go ahead."

And he would, sliding the Inkling's boxers off slowly to tease them… much to their surprised delight. Their heat dragged along the fabric, softly dribbling the proof of Creighton's newfound eagerness. Andi almost looked like he was about to invent a new shade of purple from how flushed he was at the sight of that needy heat standing between their thighs. Its attention would not wane, instead getting stronger as Andi steps back again. He then stripped himself of his red-orange boxers, making Creighton's eyes widen at the sight… and admittedly, they couldn't help but stare as he did so. Unfortunately, this would not escape Andi's notice…. and in a small fit of capricious curiosity, he does so rather slowly, ensuring that the Inkling got a good long view of him… and Creighton was just eating. it. up.

Once they were off, though, the Inkling's ears pinned back with embarrassment. Andi was a bit bigger than themself… although there wasn't as much girth… but fuck if they weren't curious about how the man's deep purple frills would feel like. It made their heat ooze with needy desire.

Andi climbed back onto the bed, met in the middle by Creighton as they pulled each other in, locking into another rough snog. The weight pressing down on them and feeling of their skin touching… it set the Inkling ablaze, gently moaning in joy at the small pieces of friction they shared, frills meeting gently and sliding up along one another. Andi shivers, giving a soft huff of pleasure in kind as the two got deeper and deeper into what they were doing. The Inkling's silver tentacles were spread across the pillows on their side of the bed, chromatophores ebbing with delight. They broke their kiss, a soft duet of gasps and grunts between them…

The Inkling pants softly, their body trembling softly.
"…Cod…. this…."

The bartend smirks, "….Feels good, dear?"

"….Like y' wouldn' believe, darlin'— m-mm!~"
Creighton's head lulls back with a jolt of pleasure.

Andi chuckles at the muffled sounds, leaning in closer.
"…You don't have to be afraid to make some noise, Cici…. it's just us."

That's when he would stop, looking around curiously.

"W-What's up, Andi…"

"….Tell me… did you and Lily ever use any like lube or something?"

Creighton flares up hotter, "W-Well, no, not together…. but I know she kept some in 'er nightstand…. think she might'a left it when she moved out…. G-Go ahead and check."

And that's what Andi would do, searching both drawers until he finds a bottle with a rather clear substance. He reads the label, seeming intrigued.

"….What…. does it ev'n do…?"

"Well… in our case… if you wanted to take this a little further…. I-I'd be ensuring we use plenty of this, so it doesn't hurt inside."

"Y'…. put it inside yer body?"

"Think of it like lubing up a hydraulics unit with WM-40… and how it needs to be able to pump back and forth without friction. Except instead of a pump… i-it's either a marital aid or… someone else…. pokin' int' ya."

Creighton brightens, seeming to understand the analogy rather quickly.

"…Some even have a warming effect, like a tube of that muscle cream I keep in the dressing room medkits when the girls get cramps from their heels…. seems Lily used this rather commonly." Andi closes the drawer, setting the bottle on the bed. "…Are you… comfortable at all with the idea of me… going… up that way…? I'm not going to force you to if you don't want me doing it."

"I-I think I'll be okay," the Inkling hummed, "…I-If y' say this stuff is t' ensure that we don' hurt ourselves doin' such a thin'…. let's give it a shot."

"…Alright. I'm going to need you to lay back then. Relax yourself a little bit…. again, if you start to get uncomfortable at all or something doesn't feel right, just use the word "lavender"…. like I said before. Okay?"

"…Okay."

Andi would click open the cap of the bottle, squeezing a bit of the clear jelly-like substance onto his fingers. He then sits himself gently between Creighton's legs and pushes the digits slowly into them — sending sparks through their ink, the chill of the stuff shooting shivers through their skin.

"…G-Gah… that's cold."

"Well, it'll warm up in a second…"

…And it would, flooding his core with a numb warmth. "….See?"

Creighton shivers as Andi ran his fingers steadily around every nook and cranny of their insides, drawing a sharp inhale through their beak. Then the digits are removed, leaving the Inkling feeling empty and hollowed…

…But that's when Andi pours more and rubs a little on his heat, too.
"….Never hurts to have a little on me as well…"

The display draws the Inkling's focus, giving them a close-up view of a slow stroke of the bartend's hand running along the length of his purple-twinged heat… lathering up his fronds and ridges… and driving Creighton absolutely insane at the sight of it, especially when he turns to face them and pull their hips into position, that stiff tip touching against them.

"…You ready…?"

Creighton takes a deep breath and nods.
"Yeah. Go 'head….."

Andi adjusts, finally pushing in and—

 

 

Oh.

 

.

 

 

.

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

O-Oh, h-holy shit….

 

It was as if the flood gates had opened wide, pleasure rushing through their body, filling their mind and core as Andi began to thrust through them. As they softly rocked back and forth with every push into their depths, it was if an epiphany blew right through their body with massive force.

This felt good. Ohhhhh cod , this felt good.

Andi's hands gripped so tenderly yet softly onto their sides, each inch they felt of him chasing back and forth building that fire higher and higher, with each slam against that spot in their core making their body spasm. Moans of joy and pleasure left their beak with little abandon, their hands digging into the pillows…. whatever Andi was doing to them, it felt like absolute HEAVEN.

And it was clear that the bartend was enjoying this little exchange of theirs as well, wrapping his arms around them to hold them in a loving embrace as he pounded them into the mattress. His lips trailed down their neck and shoulder nipping and trailing kisses along their skin… gently swimming back up towards their ear on the other side, a soft purr of satsifaction ringing from his beak. Creighton pulled them back into a snog, their beaks roughly clashing as he kept pounding deeper and deeper into their core, that heat beginning to swell. It bubbled, getting hot like lava….

Their beaks broke apart for air.

"Fuck…"

"You good, Cici….?"

They looked up to Andi, chuckling with heavy pants, "…Y-Yeah, I'm fine…. Cod, it feels like I'm boiling from th' inside… but I don' want it t' stop…"

The bartend chuckles, cupping their face as he gives them another loving round of smooches, tongues grinding gently against one another, scraping every little sharp edge of their beak plates. They each moaned in response to one another, parting again with hot breath seeping into the air.

"…..I-It feels hot… runnin' through m' like thrashin' rapids…."

"…A swollen feeling?"

"Y-Yeah…"

Andi chuckled, "…T-That's your body getting closer to climax…"

Creighton huffed, a confused look on their face.

"…It's when that warm feeling… hah…. that pleasure grows and grows, gradually bringing everything higher and higher… ngh…. l-like inflating a balloon…." Andi's body shivers, his grip shivering. "…T-Then it pops, sending a rush through you…. y-you almost lose track of what's around you because it just feels so good…"

A harsh twinge fills their body as Andi hits a deep spot in their core, something clicking in their head as they gripped onto the other tightly, a moan of surprise rumbling through their chest.

"Ngh…."

"You okay?"

"…D-Do that ag'in…. b-but r-right there…."

He would, Creighton's grip tightening with another moan, their legs crossing behind Andi's back as he hit that spot again and again. Trills began to fill the air. That harsh twitch got stronger and stronger each time, dinging in their mind like striking the head mallet of a desk bell.

"Ohhhh! Hhhhh, fuck…….~"

The two would coil together, fingers tightly intertwined.

"F-Fuck…!" Andi's body jolts, shoving himself in one last time with a sharp groan, hitting that spot hard. That coil in their core shatters wide open with explosive force, that rush ran through their ink…

 

 

And then everything went blank, like a flashbang went off in their mind.

 

 

The filthiest moan mindlessly left their lips as everything almost seemed to crash down upon Creighton, their body plunged into the tsunami-like waves of that heat and passion.

Silence filled the room, only broken by audible shivers of joy….

 

….Then it all began to slowly ebb away, that warm fuzziness lingering even as Andi pulled out from his depths, twitching as he caught his breath. Orange and purple twinged the normally pale blue bedsheets, sticking to Creighton's thighs as the heat died down at last. They almost seem dazed from it all.

"…Hah…. y-you doing okay…. Cici…?"

They lulled their head to the side in confusion, "….H-Huh?"

"I said, you doing okay, Cici?"

"Y-Yeah… I jus'…. wow."

The bartend shakily gets up from the bed, grabbing a fresh towel from the attached bathroom, cleaning up the sticky aftermath of their exchange. The sensation of the fabric across their skin sent shivers down their non-existent spine once more. He looks over the Inkling, sighing in relief that the scratches on their body are only superficial as he climbed back on.

"….What did you think….?"

"….I-I… It was amazing, Andi…. I-I don' ev'n know what t' say…. o-other than 'thank y'', of course…"

Andi smiles, pulling himself closer to Creighton, dragging up a blanket for them….

 

They gently rested next to one another, bare buck, skin brushing with skin…

 

"…Hey… Andi?"

"mm..?"

"Y' think y'd… be willin' t' give me a ride after work… tomorrow?"

The bartend chuckles, planting a soft peck on the Inkling's forehead.

"…Of course, Cici…."

And they would slowly drift off to sleep together, a sense of safety running through Creighton's cuttlebones, the both of them knowing that everything would turn out alright….

 

 

…or at least that's what they hoped.

Chapter 4: Macchiato

The next morning came, and the two made their way back down the rainy Sakurai Corridor. Grey clouds still filled the sky, but this time, the two seemed a lot more relaxed about their presence. They simmered on coffee and simple pastry, waking up to the day as the mossy green hatchback pulled up to the offices. A small nod and wave is shared between them before the car softly zooms away down the road. The Inkling adjusted their topknot and entered into the building without another word.

The keys of a typewriter clacked away, bony fingers dashing along them with precision and speed as manuscripts are typed up from cassette tape recordings made by their coworkers. No reporting was being done today, due to the holiday… which came to much of their relief. The secretaries and other news staff looked on in awe as Creighton brushed through the work, full of the vim and vigor they had come to know once more.

One of the other editors came in, setting a fresh cup of coffee and a pot of creamer on the desk as they sat down. "….Yeesh, Cuttlefish… you might start burning the metal on that thing with how hard you're working. What's got you in a rush?"

The clacking comes to a sharp halt, and the Inkling turns their attention towards the newcomer, pressing the stop button on the tape recorder.

"Pard'n..?"

"I noticed you're dashing through paper like your life depended on it…" the younger man would note with concern in his tone, "Is everything alright?"

Creighton pulls their headphones away from their ears, turning in their chair to face the other, "I'm perfectly fine, son. This is jus' how I normally work when I've got th' energy fer doin' so, an' there ain't oth'r tasks takin' up my day."

The younger man sweats a little, "…I-I see."

" 'S there some'in y' needed?"

He leans back in his chair, seeming a bit uneased by how casual they were about the situation,"…Just that report on the zoo enclosure renovation, if you've got it."

They reach into the pile of paper next to them, grabbing and handing over a gator-clipped stack of papers, including their corresponding tape recorder and cassette. The other editor reads over the transcript, listening to the recording with their own headphones…. and smiles to Cuttlefish. "Thank y' kindly, Cap'n."

Creighton smirks, turning to resume their task… but that's when a hand rests on the pulley bar, catching a raised eyebrow.

"….Say…. Doris and I were curious. You seem a lot more… peppy… than normal. Did something good happen?"

The Inkling looks up to their coworker, eyes glinting with a mix of annoyance and hesitance. Their ears pin back in warning, spooking the younger man.

"….A-Alright, alright. I was only trying to make small talk…. I'll take the hint and let you get back to work. Just try not to push yourself too hard, Cuttlefish."

They give a huff, pulling the headphones back on, rewinding back to a point where they could catch up. And then they were off again, dictating the words spoken through those speakers as they came at him with rapid speed.

Time would fly…. two… three… four hours…

As the clock struck three once more, a rhythmic TING! of the pulley block marks the end of the document. Creighton pulls it out, looking over the pages… and when they are satisfied with their work, they gator-clip the whole stack, putting it with the others and unplugging their headphones. An exhausted, but satsified groan left their beak as they finally rose from their chair.

That newfangled "computer" device sat at their desk, taking up space and collecting dust. To the Inkling, it might as well be decoration – just looking at it made them balk at the idea of actually using it for work…. or… using it in general. They were perfectly fine with the convenience of their beloved typewriter – it didn't even need electricity or one of them little disk thingys to get things done, only enough ink in its reservoir and paper to strike it to… and the occasional clean-out, but otherwise it was still miles more reliable than this box of wires and lead that cost the boss more than their monthly wage. (Where does he even find the money to cram all the editors' desks with these?)

They pulled the dust cover over their typewriter and picked up the large stack of documents (and their recorded tapes, still in their pocket recorders). They walk down the large office hall, sliding a story into their respective inboxes, setting another two at the desk of his younger coworker. Creighton's face glowered at the door to the communal break room as the soft giggles and warm chuckles of two young whippersnappers eloping ebbed from within. They shook their head in silent disgust, turning to head towards the mail room to clock out and make tracks out of the building….

Thankfully, waiting for them out in the parking lot was that mossy-green hatchback once more. Andi was sitting in the driver's seat, patiently browsing a mystery novel. Creighton's shoulders slumped in relief as they approached the vehicle, tapping the window lightly. The bartend reaches over to unlock the door, pulling the handle so it props open. The Inkling slumps into the seat, closing it behind him and zipping on the seat belt.

Andi shut his book and stowed it away in the rear pocket of his seat.
"…Rough day, Cici?"

"Not really," they'd groan, "….but I swear some 'a these youngin's have no sense 'uv respect fer th' common areas. Had t' put a word in t' the Managers t' have a word wit' two lovebirds that be singin' reeeeeal loud right now in th' back…"

The bartend grimaces, "…Gah…. seriously?"

"Eeyup. Secretary an' one 'uv th' younger fellows that gits on my rough side…." Creighton turns to him with a pained look in their eye, "…Tell me, Andi, why don' these youngin's have even an inklin'uv shame?"

"…Search me."

The Inkling shakes their head in disappointment.

"…Say, Cici."

"Mm…?"

"…You look exhausted. You wanna go recharge a bit before catching the trains? I know that it's going to be crowded as hell, so best to be more alert for it… plus, I recall you mentioned something earlier about your lunch pail…"

Creighton's ears droop and flick, a small flush of embarrassment on their face. "…I f'rgot about that… It's still in th' fridge back in Calamari…"

Andi gives them a small pat on the shoulder. "…I know a place that we can stop. It's along the route to the station, so even if we stay a bit long, we'll still get you on the train back home. They serve the absolute best french toast."

Their ears perk up, a smile of relief crackling onto their face, "…That… sounds nice." And off the two would go with the turn of a key, that little hatchback zooming smoothly out of the parking lot.

====

The smell of freshly poured coffee and powdered sugar filled the air. Distant conversations lulled in the background, overlapped with the soft sound of jazz coming in over the radio sat behind the counter.

After a long day, it felt nice to just sit in the back of that little family diner. Share a drink, unwind with a friend… take a load off. Of course, it would help immensely if the Inkling could set down his notepad and pencil for awhile, but the task seems to be helping them work off a little steam. Andi didn't mind too much if Creighton was preoccupied with his task… it was kinda impressive how quickly the Inkling worked the paper. A small anemone girl came over, setting two cups of cafe au lait on the wooden tabletop, followed by a large plate of the sought-for french toast – alongside two smaller plates so they could split the portion between them. The homely scent drags the roving reporter out of their literary trance.

They look up at the bartend as he pulls apart the rather indulgent stack, divying it up into more manageable portions, "…They cert'inly don' skimp ya here, do they…"

"Nope. Best place to grab a bite on a budget… you never leave without leftovers…" Andi serves up a round onto their plate, making sure they get plenty of the fresh marmalade on the side. "….Unless you're by yourself and the plate's empty at the end of it, then in that case, they start to worry if you're eating enough at home," he joked as he set the plate before the Inkling.

The two share a sensible chuckle.

Creighton takes a bite, their ears wiggling with the vibrant yet sunny flavor of the candied orange peel. They sit and think about it, taking in the mellow, semisweet taste that pairs well with their drink. It was rather doughy, but still fully cooked… not as tough to bite through as they would've expected it, given the deceptively crisp exterior. It made the headaches of the day's toil wash away, leaving a citrusy aftertaste.

They look across the table to see the bartend stuck right into it, tactfully devouring his portion of the confection.

"Didn' take y' fer a sweets man, Andi…"

He looks up from a rather invested bite into the round on his plate. He takes a moment to chew, swallow, and clean his beak rather sheepishly, "…I-I don't really eat this often…. I kind of keep myself on a bit of a strict diet, so this is a rare treat that I can't always allow myself… a-a bit of a guilty pleasure."

They lean forward, looking him right in the eye, "…You don' need t' feel guilty fer enjoyin' some'in, son. I can understand wantin' t' be healthy, but y' gotta live a lil' too, y'know?"

The bartend's ears droop, mumbling sadly under his breath as he looked at his near-empty plate, "….It's….more like my sister would have a fit if she caught me eating something that doesn't taste like cardboard, saying I'm 'eating my life away and turning myself into a hogfish again'…."

Creighton's ears flatten and pin back. They glare at him with a stern, sympathetic gaze, squeezing his free hand discreetly behind the notepad, "…A little advice, darlin'… an' this is exactly wha' I told Allen an' his siblin's when theys was younger… Don' deny yerself a seat at th' table 'cause 'a someone else's opinion 'bout yer looks… Y'd be fixin' t' make yerself turn t' dust gettin' int' that way 'a thinkin', an' I'd hate t' see you in that kinda pain."

The reporter brushed their thumb over his knuckles comfortingly,
"…Y' don' gotta change fer anyone but yerself…. okay?"

Andi looks up, face brightening up a little. An awkward smile blooms back onto his rounded face as he squeezed back. "…Thanks, Cici."

Creighton smiles warmly, ears perking up.

 

That's when the music fades out, interrupted by a low whistle to draw everyone's attention, cutting the two Inklings' tender moment short. A rather nasaly-sounding barker comes squawking over the speaker, and that's when the news breaks: Suzushima Station has been shut down to commuter trains departing and incoming from Northern Inkcadia, with the rough weather bringing mudslides along the tracks, including those leading through Oden Canyon — effectively blocking rail traffic going in and out of Calamari County. And to make matters worse, the Sakurai Corridor has been overtaken by fallen trees, making roads going that direction nigh impassible until crews could get out there to clear them… meaning that the Inkling was unfortunately left stranded… again.

 

Creighton's ears flatten in dismay as the jazz music fades back into the background. How many more times would their way home be hindered with this storm??? This is starting to get ridiculous.

Andi taps their hand, grabbing their attention, "…Hey."

They look up.

"….If you need a place to stay, Cici, I'd be able to accomodate you at my place."

Creighton's ears flick sheepishly, "I-I couldn't ask that 'a y', darlin'…"

"Considering you gave me safe shelter last night when we were back at your place in Calamari… i-it's only fair I open my home to you, given the circumstances. Things will probably clear up by morning… plus, aren't you still waiting on your car?"

They stop to think. Right, their car was still in the shop until tomorrow, huh…

The Inkling sighs and nods, hesitantly. "…I s'pose it wouldn' be a bad idea."

"Then let's hurry up and finish, before the roads get worse from the rain. I hear the wind picking up outside, and it's getting worrisome."

Creighton glances out… then nods, the two quickly finishing up their meal and splitting the check (at much of the Inkling's insistence).

Chapter 5: Evening Star

They pulled up the short driveway of a single-story home not too far from the bar, hidden within in a small neighborhood outside of Glowfish Heights. It was a bit of the noisier side, given the newly built Urchin Underpass had just opened to the public not too long before. The sound of youngins playing their little competitive games nearby echoes from within. The area itself could really use some green space, but alas, there was only a large sandlot behind the little bungalow… one that was slowly turning into a muddy lake with all the rainfall. It was gonna be a special kinda hell dealing with mosquitoes, if this thing doesn't drain off quick enough.

Andi turns the keys in the lock, opening the door for the Inkling to step in ahead of him. Once they're both inside, he locks it behind them, setting his lanyard on an abalone-shell tray on the doorside table. "Go ahead and make yourself at home, Cici. I'll be with you in a minute… (Cod, I already feel like a damp sardine…)"

"A-Alright."

And the bartend would dip into another room, shutting the door behind him.

Left to their own devices, Creighton decided to take a look around. The man's home is much more toned down than they expected. Given his theatric demeanor when behind the bar, you'd think his personal life would be a bit more… high-brow. But no – much like themself, he was a rather simplistic individual in private. Everything is rather plain, with just the right amount of color to spice things up. They found themselves surrounded by warm sage green walls with beige-grey carpet, topped with minimalistic (yet functional) furniture and a nice accent rug below the coffee table. Where there was tile, it was rather ordinary, down to the creamy white of its linoleum finish, which went nice with the sagey green of the kitchenette's cabinets and drawers.

The sound of the shower running in the adjacent bathroom acted as a nice ambience, accompanying the rain that whooshed about outside.

Creighton hung up their suit jacket up on the coat rack, probably the only classical-looking item in the whole house other than the bookcase, filled to the brim with novels of all sorts of shapes and colors. There were a few books they recognized, like "Gone With The Waterspout" or "Do Cephoids Dream of Electric Scallops?" – ones that coincidentally they had actually suggested to him when they still worked at the bar, and that seemed rather worn from heavy use – but not as high in quantity as the variety of true crime and detective novels that dominated the shelf. Many of them were leatherbound collector's editions as well, much to Creighton's surprise.

"…A mystery buff… eh?" they mused to themself, "That'd cert'inly explain th' fanatic behavior last Splatoween… an' why he was sorely disappoint'd when we voted out "Hint" as the pick fer Theme Nights. Poor boy was probably wantin' t' dress as Admiral Horseradish… (not that his werewolf costume didn' go well wit' th' tweed suitvest, though.)"

One caught their eye however – a novel called "Conviction", by Joan Oystern. Curiosity struck the Cuttlefish, who slinked onto the couch with it, taking a small read through while they waited for the bartend to finish showering…….

 

…And they had just reached a rather enticing part of the story when the bathroom door opens, unbeknownst to them. Footsteps quietly tap along the carpeted floor, slinking behind the couch. He rested his arms on its back, leaning forward to peek over Creighton's shoulder.

"…Didn't take you for the type to read classics, Cici."

They jolt, gripping tightly onto the book so they don't accidentally throw it in surprise. Their amber-orange eyes turn to face the approacher, seeming rather disoriented from the sudden spook – "…Cripes, Andi! Don' come up b'hind me like 'at wit'out givin' me some sorta warning…. Coulda popp'd ya straight in th' mouth by accident!"

The bartend chuckles light-heartedly, "Sorry, sorry…!"

They grumble, burying their face back in the book, trying to hide the fact their face was beginning to turn tangerine orange from the sight of the man streaked shirtless again. It only got worse as Andi curiously approached, circling around the couch. Creighton tried desperately to keep their eyes off of the man, failing miserably, peeking at him from behind the pages of their book…. Hopefully he wouldn't notice…

"…Something on your mind, dear?" Andi's soft, sultry voice would ebb into their ear. A shiver runs down their non-existent spine, that fluster growing.

Shit.

"A-Ah… N-Not really…!" Creighton nervously chuckles, trying to quickly bluff.

The bartend raises a brow, getting closer and pushing the book down with a smirk, clearly not convinced. "… You sure, Cici, dear? You're awful orange for somebody not thinking about something…. salacious…"

Cod damn him and his charismatic wisecrackery….

"U-Um…. Uh…..Y'see… well…."

Andi just sits there, waiting patiently. Creighton's eyes trail down his body as he leaned over them, knee propped up beside their shut thighs and that fluffy green towel just barely wrapping around his hips. His skin was still slightly steaming and damp from his shower… he was so close to them that they could smell his rather sweet-smelling body wash. Made him smell like a blackberry briar, but fuck if it wasn't pleasant…

"….You know… I can see where you're staring."

Creighton flusters harshly, realizing they've been caught orange handed. They lower the book, stick a bookmark into the page they were reading, and closed it with a CLAP! Their ears droop in embarrassment.

"Alright, Alright…. Y' got me. Kinda hard t' ignore when y're all bare like this."

The bartend perked up with interest, sliding closer as he gently takes up the book from Creighton's hands, setting it on the coffee table – to a lack of protest on the Inkling's end. He smiles warmly, reclining on the other end of the couch, hooking his arm over the back of the cushions. "Is that all that you had on your mind… or am I just projecting a bit?"

Oh, there was definitely more on their mind than just his toned body and soft tuft of chest tentacles, more than the alluring aroma of that sweet smelling soap mixing with his natural cinnamon-like pheromones, more than that soothing timbre his voice had as it flooded their ears….

"I-I…. had a bit 'uva… questi'n fer ye."

"Mm? What's up?"

Creighton sheepishly pipes up, looking to the Inkling with a small hint of curious hesitance, "…Wha'… kind'a oth'r things do people do when they… um… elope… wit' one anoth'r? Is it all jus'… stick a rod in yerself an' take it?"

Andi flushes, amused by the rather… colorful inquiry, "Well, n-no. There's much more to it than just having someone stick it in you or vice versa. Much, much more."

"Like wha'…?"

The bartend stops to think for a moment, face dusted that warm midnight purple. "…Where to start…. I should probably say that everyone's a little different with how they go about it. I'm not necessarily the best person to ask, as I'm still learning a thing or do myself."

Creighton scoots closer to listen.

Andi would continue, "…But from what I can tell, people will do just about damn near anything to get off. Using hands, beaks, tentacles, other limbs, other objects not even normally used for penetration…. Depravity is rather unisex."

The Inkling blinks in surprise – concern, even, at the very idea of some of it.
"…People… ev'n use their beaks fer this shit?"

"Yep," Andi sighed, "…Although I wouldn't necessarily complain about it. If you know how to go down on your partner the right way, it can be absolutely mind-blowing…. it's an experimental form of satisfaction, all things considered."

Creighton's face goes bright as they try to internalize the concept to memory.

"…..Sex in general is experimental, though, so it's a game of compromises and communication. There's no one single right way to do it… but there's plenty of wrong ways…. I-I'm sure we're both aware of a pretty nasty example."

Their body shakes with disgust and shame, agreeing with the sentiment. "Don' remind me…. I-I can't ev'n call what that was 'sex'. It didn't feel good by any damn means 'a the imaginati'n." Their eyes cast down to their lap. "….It… was jus' cod awful. I'd never wish that 'pon ev'n m' greatest enemies… no one deserves t' feel like that, no matter how much I might hate 'em."

Andi looks to Creighton sadly, pulling them in for a gentle embrace to help them settle down. The elder Inkling takes long, shaky breaths, gradually relaxing as the bartend massaged their shoulders and tentacles. Their arms held the other close to them, finding the man's warmth rather comforting.

Once the Inkling seems a bit calmer, they look back up to Andi, "….Y' said… people use their hands 'n' tendrils t' do stuff too… right?"

"Yeah…?"

"….How does it work…?"

Andi thinks a little… and looks up to Creighton, "…You're familiar with masturbating, right? Grab yerself, yank a bit to make something happen?"

Creighton thinks about it… and shakes his head 'no'.

The bartend looks kind of spooked, but honestly not surprised. "Well…. For the ladies, they usually rub or use a marital aid down there… for guys, you just grab your mast and stroke it… although I've slept with some men who swear on usin' the aids too while they do so, if they prefer to be more submissive. The principle can be used on other people as a form of foreplay or main event sex. Some can even do it in tandem with their beaks… but I have yet to sleep with a man who can do it all."

They go orange and think on it a bit…. then their eyes trail to his hips again.

"…Y'…. think I could try…? J-Jus' wit' my hands, 'uv course…."

"If that's what you want to do…" Andi flusters, shifting himself into a position that's a little more comfortable for the both of them. "…I'd be happy to indulge your curiosity."

Creighton would nod, sitting up so they can slowly crawl to Andi's side, resting themself on his thigh. They tap the fold of the towel, waiting for the bartend to give him the nod of approval to continue, which he does so encouragingly. The towel comes undone, falling to either side of his rosy brown hips, revealing that heat of his – gently perking up at the Inkling's gaze.

"…So you… just take it in a mitt…?"

"That's the first half of it. You'd grip and stroke it like you're trying to get the beard hairs off an ear of corn."

Creighton blinks, thinking on it… then takes a hold of Andi, following the concept, earning a harsh inhale from the bartend. A lightbulb blinks on in the Inkling's head as the concept clicks into place… and they grip on, shucking it gently within his hands. It almost flows in naturally, egged on by Andi's pleased chuckles and huffs. Soft purple leaks through and between their fingers as they worked their magic, flooding their hand with its light stickiness. A soft, low chuckle leaks from Creighton's beak, eeking out of an amused smile… quickly muffled by the bartend gently pulling them in for a rather involved snog. Their beaks danced while their hand worked that bartend's mast, waxing it like violin bow filament.

Creighton could feel Andi's hands work their way up their front to the buttons of their shirt… and didn't flinch in the slightest. The fabric is pulled down their arms, forcing them to stop briefly to undo the cuffs and slide the remainder off their wrists. They would prepare to continue right where they left off, gripping on and changing positions, almost slotted between Andi and the couch when –

"C-Cici."

They'd glance over. "…Mm?"

"….I'm kinda slipping off the side here… move back a little…"

Creighton realizes how close Andi's ass was to falling off the couch… and they move, taking the opportunity to remove the rest of their own clothes, throwing them to the side – an action both Andi and his heat agree that was a good call. They sit back down on the couch, smiling to the bartend as he sat up, closing the gap between them.

He chuckled awkwardly, resting atop their leg, "…There really isn't much room on this couch to do that sort of thing, huh?"

"Don' seem it, darlin'."

The bartend ponders for a moment…. and smirks, leaning into their ear with flushed cheeks, "….There's much more we could do, though.. if you wanted…"

The Inkling flustered in kind as they turned to look at him, face lit with curiosity. "…Like what…?"

"Well," Andi would muse as he gently shifts over and rests a hand on Creighton's thigh, "…. Just as there are many ways to get off, there's even more positions to do so in and manners in how to get in the mood… Lemme ask you something, Cici, what things have you learned turns you on…?"

They think for a little….. and their ear flicks.

"….A-Admittedly… seeing you bare was pretty inticing."

"…Mmhmm..?"

"…An'… I-I kinda liked it when y' got all handsy wit' me yest'rday…"

Andi nods, thinking…

"…Although… is it… odd that I… kinda liked watchin' y' strip? An'… hearin' y' moan jus' now… m-my thighs feel hot from it..."

…And he stops, flaring midnight purple. "…Hmm. Tell me something. If… you were to look at yourself in a mirror, would you… find it hot being seen?"

Creighton goes bright orange, "…I-I don' actually know."

"….And if I were to…" He adjusts himself, sitting up on his shins and running his hands down his own thighs, gently moving their hand back to his hips, "…a-ask you to touch me more… to get those sounds out of me… would you?"

They think on it, and pull Andi under themself, pinning him gently as they take it back into their hand. "…I think I will." The bartend gasps and moans, smiling away as he is manhandled by the Inkling, twitching. Creighton's heat responds rather quickly – It softly dribbles with orange from the tip as he continues making those sounds, those faces, making himself look so… desperate. Their eyes glare right into Andi's, calm and observing as he pants with pleasure. More of that pale purple leaks into their hand.

"…I could jus' sit 'ere an' watch y' squirm all day, though… an' be jus' fine… I wouldn' complain if y' did some 'uv th' work too, though…"

Andi flushes brighter, "T-That's what I thought… You're a voyeur. You like to watch, rather than being watched…."

"…Maybe more out'a… monkfish see, monkfish do…. but… yeah."

The bartend pulls Creighton down to his level, whispering in their ear once again, "…You wanna swap places? Feel it for a bit…?" They think about it and nod. Andi chuckles – "…Better yet…" - and pulls them close, laying their back against their chest, spooning them gently. "….Maybe… I could pay back the favor?"

The Inkling gasps vividly as Andi grips their thighs, earning a rather pleased moan from their beak… His heat rests between their rear inner thighs as he slowly rubs their heat in kind. That coil begins to burn in their core once again as they watched Andi's hand gently cup them and grip rough. Plenty of whines and pants echoed from their beak… they glance up and realize there's a mirror pointing right back at them from inside the bedroom. Their body is paralyzed with pleasure, suddenly finding themselves looking at such a pathetic little dame being tended to by a prince like this… Their heat twitches, leaking more and more into his rosy-brown hand as he stroked them harsher and harsher….

"M-Mmm~!!"

"…Like that?"

"F-Fuck… Andi…"

The bartend stopped, looking at them. They instantly leaned backwards into him, whimpering softly. Taking notice of the shift in behaviour, Andi smirked with intrigue.

"…Y' know… I could always pin you face first into the cushions here and keep going like this from behind…. Would you want to try…?"

They look up, their eyes almost looking at him with an aroused daze.
"P-Please…. I-It feels good…"

Andi smirks, flopping Creighton into the decorative cushions and propping them on all fours. He thinks about what to do in the moment for lube… he could go and grab his… but he had a better idea. "Alright… just relax for me…" He took a small bit of the dribbles from himself and used that as a makeshift, much to Creighton's flustered surprise (and pleasure as he prepped them up).

"….Are you ready, Cici?"

"R-Ready when you are… A-Andi."

He gets into position and chuckles warmly into their ear….

 

"… Good girl. "

 

Their face and skin flushes bright tangerine orange, chromatophores flaring like crazy. Fuck, that was hot as shit to hear him say…

"…Andi…?"

He turns his head slightly, "…Yes, love?"

"….Please… c-call me that…. again…"

He blinks… and smirks, leaning into their ear… "Call you what? A good girl?"

They shiver, smiling warmly.

"…I see what's going on here, Cici…. would you like me to call you Caroline too?"

They stop…. and seriously ponder for a moment. They'd never stopped to consider that part of it… the dresses made them feel pretty… made them feel less restrained from society. Liberated. Feminine. Maybe… just around him… she can feel pretty. Pretty as he grabbed her by the thighs, splitting her open like the most succulent of fruits…

"…I-I'm fine with whichever, darlin'….."

Andi gently carresses her sandy skin and chest, massaging them as he pushes into her from behind, "….As you wish…

 

"….My dear Caroline~…"

 

 

Fuck, she loved to hear him say her name…

 

 

Andi held no hesitation in taking her into full swing, yielding those whimpers and moans of pleasured desperation. He held her arms above her head, plundering into her like wildfire, his hand stroking her heat as he went. Pale orange spills out between his fingers, clearly getting wetter than the ocean with every sweet tease he whispered in her ear, every slam into that spot that drove her absolutely mad.

Caroline was loving every single moment of it.

Sure, she could've never imagined she'd be face down and whinin' louder than an air raid siren, but every move he made in her felt three times as strong with how his hand worked her shaft and tip.

He gently pushes her harder into the couch….

 

 

 

…And that's when she feels a harsh twinge, drawing her out of that trance of pleasure. Her ears flattened as she hissed an inhale. It shoots lightning through her neck and shoulder,

 

"…Fuck. Andi— Lavender, lavender, lavender…!"

 

The bartend immediately stopped what he was doing.

A soft gasp of pain squeaked from her beak as she ducked her head.

 

He leans a little to the side, looking to her with concern.

"…Are you okay, love? Do we need to stop?"

She looks up, a little pain in her voice, "I-I don' wanna stop… b-but m' shoulder's actin' up… I think I need t' adjust…"

Andi thinks, and gently adjusts her position, slowly turning her arms to a better angle… That way, she could still be in the pillows but her shoulders wouldn't have trouble. "…How's this…?"

"….B-Bett'r… but…. still feels mighty sore."

He slowly leans behind her and gently massages the muscles between her neck and shoulder, much to her elated relief. She lets off little trills of joy as he kneads into the pressure points, trailing kisses up and down her neck to help her relax. Moans of relief and pleasure alike trickle from her beak.

"…Do you want me to keep going?"

"Y-Yeah. I think I'm good now… Didn' 'xpect t' have a spasm…."

Andi's ears droop with concern…

"…I-I'll be okay, darlin'. It's jus' an old injury…. guess I f'rgot t'… mention it."

…He gently kisses her head, nuzzling. "…Alright. Just making sure you're okay."

She gives a small turn of her head, smiling warmly.

 

All was well once more.

 

 

Caroline tilted her head up, her eyes locked back onto that mirror once more.

There she was in the reflection – laid chest-down on that couch, her arms tucked under and over the pillow, holding onto that soft cushion almost as if she were sleeping. Her sandy skin almost seemed to glow in the ambient light of the kitchen window, casting soft, diffused shadows across the coffee table beside them. Soft, silvery tentacles draped over both her shoulder and the arm of the couch, Andi cradled up behind her lovingly as he began to thrust up into her core once more. He held her tenderly, filling her hearts with a warmth she could've never imagined feeling with her ex-wife.

It wasn't that she didn't care for Lily, but she was deeply aware that their marriage was purely for reputation and mutual safety. But there was still a level of emotional separation between them, even after Allen was born. She had grown distant, and they didn't spend as much time together… and although they felt they knew each other well, Caroline still felt afraid to tell Lily about some things. Her hearts had felt a mix of uneasy relief when their marriage was annuled, a skepticism that she hadn't been able to shake even long after Lily and Rita had gone off to find their paradise.

She thought deeper into it as she took everything in, every push, every warm chuckle that wisped into her ears…. and almost like magic…. it clicked.

Is…. this… what it felt like to be loved?

Like, genuinely loved by another?

To… actually feel… happy when beside someone else? To want their touch, to yearn for their scent, to vie for that bubbly feeling….?

The very notion seemed foreign to the Cuttlefish.

It was something she felt she might never fully understand….

….But…. maybe that was okay. Maybe she didn't have to.

Because while the world deemed it so wrong…. with him, it felt so right.

She felt so right.

Even though there was no "love" between them, perhaps it was how gently he treated her, how sweetly he kissed her, how lovingly he held her in his arms… just how he saw her that made her feel so beautiful.

It was love… but not in the manner of romantics…

One that didn't need flowers or fancy dinners. One that didn't hold either party to a double standard. One that went deeper than skin and bone.

….For the first time in her life, she felt safe in her own skin.

Caroline looked that woman in the eyes - the one that had her supple sandy skin, her starry amber-orange irises, the smile lines that traced her eyemask, that warm smile encircled by a beard and mustache that almost contradicted everything else, looking her top-down in her bareness…

In the reflection was a woman she needed to grow to love again…. one that was there all along. She didn't always show herself off, but she was there.

 

The sight of herself getting absolutely plowed in that mirror sent shivers up her non-existent spine, her heat dripping once more with that honey-like hue. Every slam into that spot drew loving gasps and vying moans from her beak.

Andi pushed harder and deeper into her, pulling her thigh over his as he arched over the dame. Her moans grew louder, more vibrant, like the shining orange-blue chromatophores that gleamed on her naturally silver tentacles. Breaths, growing heavier and rougher. The warmth shared between them grew higher, his rosy-brown skin just as flushed as hers, sweat beading along their skin as he kept on going.

His fingers trailed up to hers, interlacing and squeezing gently, a gesture of common understanding between them. She gave a huff, turning herself onto her back and pulling him in for another snog. Their beaks danced, that sweet huckleberry twinge returning to her, laughter and pants of pleasure shared between the two. Her hands trail up his back as his beak explores to her neck, nipping softly along it as he keeps plowing her.

She was absolutely loving this. It kept running higher and higher, getting ever more desperate with every short pause he took, only to push into her roughly and with more vigor than before…. Every time she grew closer to the edge, he took a small breather, trilling softly into her ear.

His breath hitched. Hers buckled, a harsh tremble of pleasure rattling her as her nails dug into his flesh. He bit roughly to give a bit of pace to her, but it was clear that things were rapidly building, that coil winding up tighter and tighter….

"F-Fuck, Cici…."

"…M-Mmm~…"

The two gently coiled around one another, jolting with the same harshness, Caroline's moans ebbing through his ears and the air once more. They looked to one another, locking beaks once more, trembling together and sharing in that moment.

Their beaks broke apart once more…

…They shared a mutual smile….

 

 

…And proceeded to pass the fuck out on the couch, with Andi especially having spent his energy, Caroline just smiled as sleep quickly took her as well, resting his head in her chest like cushions.

 

She felt loved with him by her side.

Chapter 6: Parting is Loving Sorrow

Light began to leak through the crack in the curtains as dawn broke.

The soft sound of the doves outside lulls the sleepy reporter from her sleep, a groggy groan echoing throughout the room. The cold air hit her skin harshly, helping to wake them up.

A bony hand goes to reach for black-squared eyewear, pulling it onto their face as they sit up. Their bones crackled, their muscles ached, and… egh, they felt slimy… sticky, even… guess she and Andi both crashed before they could clean themselves off last night. (Thank fuck for the towel, bc it would've stained hella bad otherwise.) The room slowly sharpens as her amber-orange eyes adjust to the light. Caroline searched around for her clothes, finding them draped over a chair next to the couch).

She pulled her fitted shirt back over her sandy skin, buttoning it up with shaky hands… but that's when the smell of something downright delectable drifting from the little kitchenette. There was Andi, dressed unusually casual and cooking. Her nose twitched at the nutty smell of buckwheat pancakes — ohhhhhh, it smells like it even has some of the grains dispersed in the batter… just how she liked them. Caroline's tired eyes widened, her tentacles almost fluttering with unbridled excitement as she got up….

…Only for her to not realize her legs were horribly sore and fumble to the floor with a low yelp.

The bartend turns to the noise and takes the pan off the heat, going to help her get to her feet. "You alright there, Cici…?"

"Y-Yeah. G'ess I still hav'n't got m' land legs back, huh," they'd chuckle, shakily standing back up with his aid. He guides her slowly to the kitchen table, sitting her down. She slowly leans over to take a peek at what he's doing.

He's rather quick with his hands… a trait that made her quiver in joy, but also look on with amazement. The same man that juggled around brightly coloured mixers behind the counter for the entertainment of the crowds tossed eggs and vegetables around like nothing with his skillet. Although her tentacles recoiled at the sight of the bell peppers he was mixing into that golden ocean, she couldn't deny that he knew what he was doing.

A quick tap of the pan and it slid out onto the plate like butter, with not a single drop of the delicious eggy mixture left behind. He set the delicious omelettes atop freshly steamed rice and brought it over to the table, along with a stack of those toasty brown pancakes. The dishes clattered as they gently sat on the surface, Andi bringing over two smaller plates – one for each of them.

"….Eat up. We're both going to need the calories today…" Andi looked on at the calendar with dread, "…Tonight's gonna be killer."

Caroline tilted her head with confusion as she cut off a big piece of pancake, "…Why? Big event t'night?" She bites down on it.

"Golden Week is prime tourist season for this part of the area, Cici… remember? We don't really get a day off of our own, not that a lot of the girls or I mind. Means we get a lot of business, which is good for the bar, but…."

She sighs and nods, "…Right, right. I rememb'r…" Her hand creeped up to his, squeezing it gently. "… Jus' don' overdo it, darlin'. Y've only got so much 'uv yerself you can give… Nothin' wrong wit' takin' a breather here an' there. Okay?"

Andi gives the cutest smile ever, the dread melting right off his face. "…I'll do my best to not push my limits." She smiles right back, endeared.

They sit together, enjoying their breakfast over lively conversation and a fresh brew of a nicely fragrant blonde roast, mixed with cream to cut the acidity. Stories were thrown back and forth across the table, bringing a casual start to their early morning. The room seemed to brighten up as time passed… Caroline began to get herself fully cleaned up and dressed once more, tightening the necktie gently around her collar with ease.

She was just straightening her hair when the pocket began to buzz, drawing her attention away from the hairtie. She reaches into it, pulling out a rather clunky looking pager. "..Ah!"

Andi leaned over her shoulder from behind, "…What's up, Cici?"

"…My Shellvy's ready fer pickup at the garage. Says she also managed t' get th' brakes fixed and changed th' sparkers…. been meanin' t' ask her 'bout that."

He beamed, "…That's wonderful, Cici…. always great when things work out like that." She nodded as she slipped the device right back into her pocket, "…Yeah. And th' weather seems t' have cleared out.. so maybe th' road back t' Calamari won' be so slipp'ry…. don'tcha think?"

His chipper demeanor softly flickered down into melancholy as he let go of her, "…Yeah. Should be smooth sailing through the afternoon." The bartend gave her some room to finish getting dressed while he changed into his usual garmentry. As much as he knew that they'd have to go home eventually, a part of him didn't want them to leave. It had been so long since they'd been around one another, and he hadn't really felt this carefree for a good long bit.

"…Andi? Is…. ev'rythin' alright…?"

He flicked his head up back to the reporter as they softly approached.

"Y-Yeah. I'm fine. It's just…"

"…Jus'… what…. darlin'?"

His sapphire blue eyes gazed into their amber-orange orbs, awkward but honest as he rested a hand on their arm, "….I-I know this might seem kind of silly for me to feel a bit blue about… but… I already know that I'm gonna look back on all this and miss it dearly. We might not be a thing, per se, but… I enjoyed what we've had for the past two nights, even if we're only frie–"

They cupped his cheek with a hand and smirked, snapping him out of his gloomy haze, "…Relax, Andi… It ain' like we ain't never gon see each other ev'r ag'in. I'll still be workin' wit' the newspaper fer a good long while yet." She leans down to meet his eyes, smiling warmly, "….But ev'n if we do fade apart, Andi?… We still got th' mem'ries 'uv all this wit' us. Right…?"

He sadly smiles back to them, giving a nod. "…Right." And he turned the knob, opening the door for them to step out into the light once more.

The ache didn't stop as that mossy-green hatchback pulled up to the repair shop. It burned more as they climbed out from the passenger side and walked around the car, approaching his opened window. Creighton leaned into his ear and whispered gently to him – "…It's all gonna be alright,"

Andi nodded as they pulled away from the door.

"….Good luck out there, Cici. I'll… see you around?"

They gave a soft smile, a glint in their eye, "….For sure, darlin'."

The roving reporter gently turned to leave, walking back towards the mechanic… and Andi, his hearts simmering with solemnence, turned the keys to start up the car once more. He drove off down the street, the Inkling and their destination fading into the distance beyond the range of his rear-view mirrors, painfully turning his focus towards the nights to come… he would need to be ready for whatever came next.

===

Creighton arrived to the shipyard around noon time, just as the I.N.F.C. Harborton pulled into her dock. She was a Flight Carrier that was usually stationed out in the open waters, bordering the continent and surrounding oceans. She usually had planes on her deck, but it seems she had no such cargo aboard, being purely used as a Training Vessel for the latest Naval Graduates to get their sea legs. He'd never been on one of these boats himself, but he could only imagine just how much trouble the Octarian Navy might've given them back in the War.

They weighed anchor and tied her to a post on the wooden pier, folding out a ladder for her crew to disembark. One by one, sailors in grey-yellow uniforms climbed down it, boys and girls of varying different color and height streaming along the teak oak planks.

There, zooming along the galleys and higher levels of the ship, was his boy. Allen, clean-cut and chipper eyes gleaming behind rounded glasses, came flying down ladders like they were water, his combat boots clicking enthusiastically. He reported briefly, handed a man in thicker uniform a folder, and saluted. Creighton got up out of his seat, approaching the two as he waited for his boy to be dismissed.

With a nod from the man (most likely his Commander), he would turn towards his father and bolt, nearly bowling him over with a warm embrace as the two reunited once more. The old reporter laughed weakly as the boy held him tight.

"…Oof! Careful there, squiddo… I ain't as sturdy as I used t' be…!"

The younger Cuttlefish let go gently, stepping back with a little embarrassment, "…Oops. M'bad…"

…Yep, definitely his boy.

Creighton ruffled the young sailor's hair with a chuckle as they returned to the car, shoving an arctic-camo duffelbag into the trunk of the station whaler. Due to the size of the bag, the trunk was having a hard time closing… but they worked together to shut it with a clank! They took a deep breath, thinking they had done it, when it goes flying up, knocking Allen's glasses right off his face and onto the asphalt.

"Cripe…! Y' alright there?"

"Y-Yeah… where's my eyes, Pops…?"

The reporter looks around… and swipes the rounded orange frames from the ground beneath them. He sits them back on his son's face, snickering.

"…Right there, boy. Maybe we should put these in th' backseat… yeah?"

Allen does so, securing the handles with the seat belts before claiming shotgun. Creighton closes the trunk and doors once again, buckling himself in. They then slowly pull out from the shipyard, rolling down the slowly-developing roads of Inkopolis.

"…So, how was it bein' on a big ol' boat like 'er?"

"Ugh….. tiring. Cramped quarters, th' food is only somewhat decent, an' y' can never catch a break when something goes wonky with the RADAR systems."

Creighton groans, knowing the irritation all too well.

"We did get t' go to some interesting places, though. I brought souvenirs fer you an' Brandy… but that's not the best part, Pops."

"…Mm…?"

"Yer boy is now officially a Petty Officer. Wit' the pay grade an' all th' responsibilities that comes wit' it," the young Cuttlefish beamed proudly.

His eyes widened as he looked over to his son, ears wiggling ecstatically, "…Atta boy, Allen! I told ya y' could do it, an' y' went an' did it!" Allen chuckled with a nervous smile, sitting back in his chair, "Yeah, they fas'-tracked me t' First Class after we managed to avert a cod-awful hydraulics failure."

The burst of excitement in the older Inkling's face quickly cross-faded into anxious concern. "…What…?"

"The hull wasn't breached, thank carp, but the hydraulics responsible fer keepin' the boat's environment'l controls stable sprung a gasket. Lead t' problems wit' the engines as part of the whole package, and our C.O. didn't have any clue on how t' fix it."

Creighton's hands gripped the steering wheel, "…Well, shit. With some'in like that, they betta have given you a good promotion. Y' coulda all died out there wit' that mess…!"

Allen casually rested his chin on his hand, propped up against the window. "Yeahhhhh. But, we managed t' strong arm th' hoses back int' place with my bunkmates an' git the ship back on track b'fore the lower decks began t' flood with freeon gas, so nobody got hurt in the end. Although, th' big wigs ain't gonna be happy with the report I had t' give to the Admiral… but them's the ropes."

The reporter sighed softly, turning into the on-ramp for the Sakurai Corridor. "Well… at least it got fixed, and at least y're alright… cod forbid some'in happen'd t' you out there…"

"But what 'bout you, Dad?" Allen would prod, "Anythin' interestin' go down while I was off-shore?"

Creighton felt a ping of panic run through his ink – carp, what do I say…?!

"Oh, uh… nothin' really, t' be honest wit' ya. Jus' work at th' newspaper, comin' home, tidyin' things up b'fore the snowfall..."

Allen looked at his father like the man had grown three dorsal fins, "…Really? There wasn' a single darn thing that struck any of yer interest…?"

He looked on at the road, uncomfortably, "….Only thin' really 'uv note was th' storms… kinda threw th' tires outta alignment due t' all th' potholes. Miss Maggie managed t' get it all fixed an' stuff, but I was wit'out the Shellvy fer the past few days. Luckily, a coworker did me a big fav'r, tryna make sure I wasn' stranded durin' th' worst 'uvit."

The young Cuttlefish groaned with disbelief, leaning over to his old man, "Pops, y' worry me sometimes…. y' know that?"

Creighton groaned, his ears drooped. "….I know, I know…." His hearts pounded, relieved that Allen didn't press into him further about it, but there was still those remnants of anxiety that swam around in the back of his mind. Thankfully, the ride back into Calamari didn't take too much longer.

==

At last, the house was full once more.

The young sailor trundled back upstairs with his duffel bag, relieved to be back on dry land, flopping face-first into his freshly laundered sheets once more with a long, low groan. He would deal with unpacking his belongings later; right now, he needed a good, long rest after being at sea for so long.

Meanwhile, Creighton hung their suitcase and jacket on the rack, perched right next to Allen's Navy coat and cap. The tension released from their shoulders, finding some comfort in knowing their boy was safe and sound once more. They shucked off their work shoes as soon as they passed through the door to their room, kicking them at least somewhat close enough to their usual rack. Their tentacles would be let down from their topknot, flopping back-first into the sheets with an exhausted groan.

The Inkling loosened their tie as their head lulled to the side…. that's when Creighton would notice something resting gently on the nightstand.

"…Huh… When'd that get there…?"

It was a soft purple envelope, seemingly appearing out of thin air. It was decorated with a familiar insignia: a squid-shaped marking with wave flourish motifs encircling it, all etched in pure gold calligraphy ink. The reporter knew without a doubt that it was addressed to them… but by whom? The only other person who's been in the room other than themself was —

….They rushed to grab it, grabbing their trusty pocket knife from the nightstand to use as a letter opener. A greeting card slides gently out of the envelope – all decorated with fish scales and cartoonish trout swimming along waves. It was rather tacky, but amusing nonetheless… but the real meat of the matter came to light when they opened it.

Creighton's eyes widened with surprise, their beak slightly agape.

Inside the card was what looked to be a photograph. It was of the entire performing staff of the Davy's Bell, standing in front of the bar in festive costumes for a Squidsmas charity event that had been held last December. There, in the center, was her – the tallest of the group, wearing that fuzzy capelet over the top to the deep-blue Dickats styled crinoline-hoop dress custom-tailored for the occasion. Her smile was wide and beaming, even as her face flushed orange, twinged by the cold wind.

The card itself was a written group thank you from all of the girls, with messages of love and support from each one of them… and in the center was one from Andi himself. How could she forget his handwriting?

=—=—=

We'll never forget all the joy and laughter you brought to the Davy's Bell everytime you walked in that door. All of the color that burst through the room when you sang, all the smiles you shared with the customers and staff alike. And I'm forever thankful that I could be part of your journey too.

May the tides flow in your favor, our beloved dear Caroline.

Much love,

Andi

=—=—=

Her hearts swelled with endearment and joy as she held the envelope close, a broken smile spread across her face. That's when she noticed another note behind it, this time just in Andi's handwriting. Her ears perked up as she pulled it out, reading it.

-- -- --

Cici–

You work too damn hard for your own good, and I can tell it in your face.

Take some time to be with your son when he gets back, if only to save your sanity.
Maybe these might help a little to ease your pace.

~ Andi

-- -- --

Inside the folded paper were two tickets for a baseball game that's scheduled for that next week. The Urchins were going to be playing the Marlins at home, and these seats were in a really good spot. Although that begged the question:

How did Andi know that she liked baseball…? … Maybe Krakenski told him.

Regardless, she got up out of bed, and trundled over to Allen's room. She knocked gently on the door frame.

"…Hey, kiddo."

Allen turned to look at his father, looking confused.

"…Sooooo… I may or may not have come across a pair of tickets to the Urchins game next week…? My boss at th' newspaper gave 'em t' me, wantin' me t' write a plainclothes report on th' game. He was sayin' I could bring a plus-one if I want'd…. so…. would y' wanna go wit' me?"

The young Cuttlefish's eyes widen as he sat up, his entire body perking up with excitement. "T-That's not even a question, Pops, 'course I'd wanna go! I've been fryin' to see a game up close and personal since I started college!"

Creighton smiles warmly.

"That settles it then. Although, I may need yer help gettin' some pictures fer the paper while we're there… ya still got that big ol' camera th' school gave y'…?"

Allen leans over the side of his bed, digging underneath it, bringing out a rather nice auto-exposure camera and a couple rolls of color 35-millimeter film. "Right here, Pops. Maybe I can get some good snaps 'a the new guy and git the boys at Inktech reel jealous…!"

 

The two buzzed with shared excitement.

Chapter 7: Even Roses Burn When Set Ablaze

The days went flying by, flickering one by one, until the fateful day finally came. There they were, among the crowds swarming in the stands of Sardine Stadium, nice and comfortable in their box seats.

Creighton took notes on his writing pad as the game went on, with Allen snapping some really good photos of the diamond.

There were some really sneaky plays made by the Marlins, but all of that would pale in comparison to the batting prowess of their sea-star player, a rookie from Tsujimi County that's made himself quite the asset called "Herringbone". The Urchins would go to win with eight runs, practically stomping over the Marlins with an iron fish. The crowd went wild as the buzzer screeched throughout the stadium, the bleachers almost rattling with the pure vibration of everyone going berserk. The two Cuttlefish cheer along with the crowd, eyes sparkling wide with passion.

Soon, the game was over, and the crowds began to pour out of the venue en masse. Creighton and Allen walk out of the stadium, a shared aura of joy bolting between them as they headed back to their car.

"Did you see how Herringbone blasted them sky-high wit' that slammer, Pops?! I almost couldn' see his arms, he swung so hard…!"

"Eeyup," the elder would chirp, "…That new boy's gon' make himself famous wit' a whallop like that. I'm surprised th' Marlins ain't tried t' scalp him yet!"

"Nahhhhhh," the younger would drone, "…They don' deserve a slugger like–"

Allen would stop dead in his tracks, looking up to the sky. Creighton would take notice and halt, returning to his son's side.

"…What's up, kiddo….?"

"…There's…. smoke, off in th' distance…" The young Cuttlefish would point his finger out towards it, "…It looks like it's plumin' from somewhere east of here."

The reporter would turn his attention towards the smoke. His mind processes the direction and intensity… and his hearts would drop. "…Shit… I-I hope that's not comin' from where I think it is, kiddo."

Allen grabs his hand, pulling him along, "…Let's go check it out." And they would, climbing into that old Shellvy and bursting off down the street. They follow the smoke trail, using it as a triangulation point to figure out where the origin is. An ambulance went bolting by them, full points sirens and all. They pulled aside and parked the Shellvy, rapidly climbing out and going to investigate on foot.

What they saw as they turned the corner was pure carnage.

There, before the both of them, was the Davy's Bell. The windows were twinged with ash, its brick construction ablaze with hellfire. Creighton's eyes widened with horror as he went to get a closer look. The smell of ethanol and char was thick in the air, bellowing out of the building.

A full squadron of cops had two people face down in the middle of the street, weapons drawn at them and ready to fire if need be. A triage station full of paramedics was set up in the parking lot next to the bar, and sitting along the wall to the neighboring building were his former coworkers, some injured more than others.

Creighton ran back to the car, grabbing his tape recorder and Press Badge before dashing right back to the scene unfolding before them. Allen stayed a good distance away, getting photographs of the mayhem. Some of the medics tried to stop him from getting too close, holding him away.

But a voice would cause them to cease their resistance –

"…Cuttlefish?"

The medics make way as Creighton goes bursting over to them, kneeling down with panic in his eyes, "Pauline. What the shell happened out here…."

"…I'll tell ya what happened," they'd gesture to the two apprehended men, "…Those two came in and tried to blast the whole room up! It was a big fucking mess, Cuttlefish… T-They got Coleen and the rookie…"

His fear only grew as he looked around, noting a prominent absence.
"…Wait… Pauline. W-Where's Andi?"

"The heavy-duty medics whisked him away in the back of another ambulance," another girl, Suzanne, would interject, "He managed to stealthily tip off the fuzz to what those bastards were trying to do t' us, but they wrangled him good when he went to kick the tables down to make cover for the guests. The younger one slugged him two good ones in the midsection…"

Creighton's hearts sank.

"W-We-We-We don't know what's going to h-happen t' him," their colleague Marcella would add, wirey and shaken, "B-B-But if he hadn't done what he did, th-th-there would've been a lot more damage…!"

Two of the other girls take Marcella into their arms as she breaks down sobbing in fear. Pauline puts a hand on Creighton's arm, looking to him with anguished empathy. "I-I'm sure he'll be okay, but —"

A loud BANG! comes from a nearby pipe.

Creighton's face pales, knowing exactly what it goes to… and he pulls Pauline up onto her feet. He shouts out to the crowd, "ALL Y'ALLS NEED T' BACK AWAY, QUICKLY! TH' GAS PIPES 'RE FIXIN' T' BLOW! AM-SCRAY!"

The medics rush the injured to a safe distance, the cops drag the two aggressors off into their squad cars, and Creighton dashes right back towards Allen, body-diving his boy right back around the corner and pulling his blazer over them. "Plug your ears!"

…They would… and…..

 

 

Everything was ash and dust when sound returned to the vicinity.

Allen uncurled himself once everything settled, unplugging his ears and checking on his father. Creighton slowly unclenched, his eyes flooding with tears as he looked up at his boy. The two stumble to their feet, rushing away from the scene and right to the Inkwell Offices, where the Director was sitting at his desk.

He looks up to see the two disheveled Cuttlefish, the scuffed tape recorder, and a roll of film being dropped onto the floor.

"…What the hell are you doing here, Cuttle—"

"…The Davy's Bell's been eviscerated."

The heavy-set man leans over, looking at them. "…What?"

 

That next morning, the paper – once expected to have a showcase of the Urchins game from that fateful day – greeted its readers with a full-color picture of the carnage, front and center with a full-page spread.

And scrawled across it in bold letters:

 

"When Beauty Was Set Alight With Tempest"

 

 

 

It would be the paper's most discussed story for months.

A moment that would haunt Creighton for years to come…

 

…And fill him with grief for many more.

Chapter 8: In A Faint Dream, I Remembered You

The room felt like it was trembling as Caroline startled awake… or perhaps it was her body still aching from the wild night that she had enjoyed with her honeybee. She wouldn't have given it much thought if it weren't for the fact that this had been the third time she's woken up that evening.

Her eyes tiredly scroll up to the wall clock. It's nearly one in the morning, and the room was near pitch black. They then scrolled downwards to the Inkling nestled up in her side, goofily smiling in his sleep, rope marks and hickeys still decorating his tattoo-painted skin. His iridophores gently glimmered a soft orange-blue, shining like fish scales in the low light much like her own did.

Caroline slowly sits up with a despondent sigh, rubbing the strain out of her eyes, only to feel something… wet. She'd pat her face gently, finding tears had flowed down her cheeks, gently pitter-pattering upon her bare thighs as they continued on. The scar on her right leg is all but healed over and faded now, with only a faint conture remaining to show it had been there, just like the faded scratches and scars along her arms.

She slid out of bed, pulling the covers over the sleeping sailor's exposed shoulders as she reached for her silky white slip, shirking it back over her head. She rose back to her feet, grabbing her phone along the way as she crept over to the screens, opening them quietly.

Night cast itself upon Octaria, blanketing the trees below with a soft haze. She sat out on the outer ledge, looking out into the distance, the cool autumn wind fluttering her tentacles lightly. The deep midnight-purple haze peered into her starry eyes, and a memory from that day before faded into view.

It was unmistakeable.

Those vibrant sapphire blue eyes with the monocle… that same midnight-purple ink running through his membranes, complimenting the blue blood that ran through the veins of his rosy-brown skin… that warm, loving smile of his now matched with crowfish fins along his eyemask not unlike her own…. his clothes, his demeanor….

Everything in her body screamed, "That has to be him. There's no other Inkling on the damn continent that could look like that, there's just no fucking way that it isn't him." She flipped open her phone, bringing up a search bar… typing her inquiry quickly. It wouldn't take her long to find her answer – there was his image, on a recent article done by The Catch, an online news aggregator that talked about all sorts of social things. Apparently the bar had opened a brand new location some time ago, and Andi was still running the place like a well-oiled machine…. although it seems the place had a bigger dining room and a rooftop balcony for parties.

A warm, fuzzy feeling of relief washed over Caroline as she read deeper – wait. This article about a grand re-opening was from only a few months ago. That's impossible, unless either they rebuilt the original and just moved into the new location, or… if Andi had given up the business after the incident, did something else, but was now running it again as a form of retirement…..

The curiosity struck the dame hard and fast.

She found a rather barebones website relating to the place, confirming that indeed that this was a relocation rather than a full restart. Has he really been bartending for all this time….? He's got to at least be in his 80s by now… and he ain't no King Inkling like herself, so how does he still nearly look the same as he did when they grew apart?

She looked in the contact… and there was a mobile number, glowing a warm purple. Caroline took a deep breath and went to send a message, hoping to Cod this was the right number.

» "….Hi, is this Mr. Teld's number?"

Her hearts raced as she saw the little speech bubble, marking that the other person is texting…. and then a reply popped up.

"…Yes, it is. May I ask who this is?" «

The weight that formed in her hearts lifted with relief.

She would reply really quickly… then put her phone on silent, returning to bed, her anxieties finally sated. Craig gently snuggled back in next to her.

         » "It's Cici Cuttlefish. I know it's late, but… do you have time to reconnect this weekend at all? Maybe… grab a coffee or some of that french toast from that diner you liked….? For old time's sake? ….My treat this time."

 

And a reply would ping in return —

 

"….I'd like that… quite a lot, actually." «

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 6 of 4R: Backstage Pass