summary “I’m sure if you told him, Psyk, wouldn’t mind.”
Call Doom Bringer handsome? Out of the question! He’s sure he would actually instantaneously combust before he could even get the words out properly, much less even approach him.
Dominator, still toying with him of course, nudged his shoulder gently, trailing his gaze to the other, younger Psyker. “I do mean your Psyker, obviously.”
Obviously.
---
Or—Dominator does a (horrible) job of encouraging Mastermind.
note smt for fun and to close out the year o7 happy holidays all
“Well? What are you being so shy for?”
Was he? Being shy? Mastermind didn’t think so. Yet, he couldn’t find the proper words to refute his elder counterpart. “It is not about being shy… !” Still, Mastermind persisted, sticking with his declaration. Even if Dominator was not convinced even the slightest.
So, unconvinced, Dominator prodded again. “Hmm… is it because he’s older?” He would hit the mark eventually.
Stalling for said eventually, Mastermind’s eyes wandered over to said older man. Not to Lunatic Psyker, but rather the strong, tall and experienced brawler, brimming with confidence. He was looking directly at Doom Bringer. It’s not that Psyker wasn’t or couldn’t be those things (he would be those things, eventually) but… Doom Bringer commanded power as easily as breathing. There was a suave swagger to his persona now too. (His Psyker definitely lacked that, the brute.) Not to mention… Mastermind’s gaze traveled up the length of his very toned, very muscular body. It was plain just from a quick gaze a distance away that Psyker would keep up his regimens, training and shaping his body even still. “... h-he’s not that much older!” came Mastermind’s defensive reply. “We aren’t that much older.”
“Is it the hair?” Dominator wondered aloud. “I do quite love his hair.”
Snapping back, and also ignoring his commentary, Mastermind replied, “No, it’s not that! It’s not the hair!”
Instead, Mastermind was doing his best not to grip his hair in frustration and pull strands out, balding himself in the process. After all, how had things even come to this? All he could remember was being in shock by Doom Bringer’s booming presence, and before he knew it, he found himself led away by Dominator. And now they were doing… this. Whatever this was! Twenty questions about their lovers because Dominator had nothing better to do? (Which wasn’t fair. Dominator had an advantage that he didn’t!) At this point, it just felt like a nosy interrogation, poking into his love life.
… his love life?
These trails of thoughts made Mastermind’s face feel warm, shyness seeping in. But it felt as if his cheeks were so hot, he might seriously combust from embarrassment, when he felt Dominator lean forward over his shoulder to whisper into his ear, voice low, taunting but coy, “Is it because he’s so handsome?”
Mastermind was so stunned by Dominator’s words alone that his only reply was no reply. Unbecomingly, his jaw was left hanging open. “H-Handsome!?” He finally squeaked out, whirling around and back a few paces to put much needed space between the two of them.
“Oho? So you think so too then?” He chuckled.
What Mastermind really thought about was if it was possible for the ground to open up and just swallow him whole, to put him out of his misery. The misery of Dominator toying with him like this. Was this really what he would be like eventually? Really? What an asshole!
Perhaps, Dominator was finally feeling merciful, his chuckles dying off as he patted Mastermind’s shoulder soothingly. (It was not a soothing gesture.) “I’m sure if you told him, Psyk, wouldn’t mind.”
Call Doom Bringer handsome? Out of the question! He’s sure he would actually instantaneously combust before he could even get the words out properly, much less even approach him.
Dominator, still toying with him of course, nudged his shoulder gently, trailing his gaze to the other, younger Psyker. “I do mean your Psyker, obviously.”
Obviously.
“As I recall, affection was quite hard for me back then.” The observant asshole said as if he were not right there, “But you know what they say, a little practice never hurts anyone.”
If Dominator was trying to encourage him, he was not doing a good job of it.
With a hand on his hip, Mastermind waved his free hand dismissively, to decline Dominator’s wild idea. “There’s no way I’m doing that. To either of them. You said it yourself. I…” And here, Mastermind gave pause, eyes falling to something on the floor more interesting, refusing to lock eyes with Dominator’s perceptive gaze. “I truly do not understand how you are so free with your affections. Aren’t you… ?”
“Afraid? Of what, my dear Mastermind? Of being loved? Of Psyker loving me in return?”
Yes. Mastermind swallowed. Hard. Because of course he could see through him.
They both turned their gazes upon their other halves, who were talking rather animatedly amongst themselves. (Psyker wasn’t being tortured? Mastermind was glad that at least one of them was getting something out of this exchange, he supposed.) Still, Mastermind was smiling to see this display. Though, he had to wonder… just what were the two of them talking about? As he proceeded to come up with some wild guesses and speculations of his own, some time passed and then he felt a hand abruptly land on his shoulder. At which, Mastermind dropped his eyes to the hand resting there and then followed the trail up to find Dominator smiling down at him.
“I see. As usual, always lost in your own head. Don’t worry, you’ll get better about that.”
Gee? Thanks. He had wanted to say. Instead, he replied, “Great… ?” He did not feel very enthused about that.
“We do much better when we’re out of our heads. And what better way to do that, than to deal with things in real time?”
“Deal with—wait a min—!”
It didn’t take much. Both Psykers were already turning to see what the commotion was. So Dominator, like the asshole he was, took advantage of the situation and smiled ever so sweetly Doom Bringer’s way. “Psyk, you’ll come here, won’t you?” And to add to the flourish of it all, he held out his arms in waiting, just an extra push to spur Doom Bringer into action. “Please, Psyk?” Said with a disgusting amount of affection, to encourage him further.
Not that he needed it, apparently. Already, the elder brawler was making quick, cool strides to close the distance between the two. Somehow, keeping his calm but making his way over in little to no time.
Just as Doom Bringer was to close the gap between them, Dominator, snuck a glance over to Mastermind and grinned deviously. Doom Bringer seemed to notice this, and grinned down at the floundering young scientist. “Whatever he said, he’s right, you know.” And promptly turned to grasp Dominator by the chin and tug him into the most embarrassing display of affection Mastermind has had the misfortune to witness no less than five feet in front of him.
Did Psyker just willingly say he, himself, was right?
And are they really just shamelessly kissing in public, (well, in front of them!) just like this too, as if it were nothing? Wrapped up in one another, Dominator brazenly using Doom Bringer for support, and Doom Bringer’s hands began wandering into not so innocent places, lips locked, as if they couldn’t stand to be apart a minute longer?
It was more likely than one thought. And yet Mastermind refused to believe what he heard much less what he was now seeing.
The only thing Mastermind could do, as not to explode from the flames dancing on his face from the sheer mortification of it all, was fiddle with his hands, both terrified but unable to tear his gaze away from their older counterparts. He resisted the urge to reach up and brush at his red tinged ears too. Like this, his senses alight, he was able to feel Psyker—his Psyker—finally at his side and immediately turned to him. (For what? Comfort? Reassurance? Or…)
“P-Psyk… I—” he blurted out, without realizing the name of endearment had even left his mouth.
Psyker’s face too was now a matching flaming red. He abruptly exclaimed, “Don’t! Say tha’ so suddenly…!”
Balking at the other’s reaction, as something unwanted, Mastermind withdrew into himself, trying to steel his expression to not betray his his feelings right now: anger at Dominator for even suggesting this, anger at himself for trying, embarrassment for thinking that it would even work, and… dejection for his Psyker not being receptive to him at all.
Maybe they weren’t like their elder counterparts. Maybe they never would be.
“—stermind. Are ya even listening?”
Startled, Mastermind braced himself for whatever it was Psyker could possibly have to say now.
“I said! Don’t say it… so suddenly or else I’ll want to kiss you too!”
They both froze, Mastermind gaping at Psyker.
Aside from them, Dominator, wearing the smuggest grin, stood proudly as he watched his plot come to fruition. Doom Bringer only shook his head with a crooked smile, gently curling his arm around Dominator like the gentleman he was. A silent gesture of consideration for the irony of the two so lost in their own world now that not even Dominator and Doom Bringer mattered to them. Quietly, they made their way off, Dominator latching onto Doom Bringer like a cat and Doom Bringer nuzzling the top of his head lovingly. A silent but swift exit.
Still, Mastermind stood gaping until he realized how rude it was of him. After all, if Psyker could do this… then he could too. Pushing away his bundle of his nerves, with all the bravado he felt he didn’t have, he asked demandingly, “Well, P-Psyk?” He won’t say more! Psyker should understand, after all. And to help this along, Mastermind bravely took the first step, closing the gap between them.
Now Psyker was starstruck, swallowing as he watched Mastermind step before him, ever so close. “Yeah… ?” A nervous hand found spikey locks as a perfect distraction.
Mastermind smiled kindly, reaching for said hand and taking it into his. Just as kindly, Mastermind chose not to comment on this too. “Psyk, I don’t think I heard you properly. Will you… show me instead?” Mastermind could almost feel the tense and nervous energy thrumming under Psyker’s gloved hand so, again, Mastermind stepped forward and pressed their foreheads together.
Psyker, finally snapping out of it, smiled, ever so softly, finally regarding Mastermind with such affection that the sudden confidence he mustered up nearly withered away. Psyker clearly must have stolen it, as he reached for Mastermind’s other hand, lacing their fingers together in the sickeningly sweet way they saw the other two do it. (And… when had those two left? An idle thought in passing…)
Mastermind wasn’t sure if he murmured for Psyker again but he must have with the way Psyker swooned, leaning his weight into him until he leaned down enough to angle their faces for a neatly slotted kiss, their lips finally touching in what Mastermind could only describe as a perfect display of affection, a connection of intimacy in which words were no longer needed. So perfect even, that Mastermind had just enough of his wits left to murmur for Psyker again, calling his name.
And Psyker answered with another kiss, as promised.
In their own little bubble like this, little else truly mattered.
Just Mastermind, calling for his beloved, and Psyker, answering in kind.
Fandom/Pairing: Elsword; TTrAT
Rating: K
Word Count: 1,442
Summary: Time Tracer spends another sleepless night with his ambitions set straight, but Arc Tracer disagrees. He can take care of himself, really!
AO3 Link
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Author Note: FIC FOR BUN, FIC FOR BUN, FIC FOR BUN, FIC FOR-
HERE YOU GO, @mymastermine. HERE ARE TRACER BABIES BECAUSE THEY’RE CUTE AND WE NEED MOAR OF THEM. Thank you for the fic exchange, I am always happy to accept them u w u.
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“You’re still up?” Arc peered into the living room.
Arc walked around with a white shirt depicting a pink cat and a pair of lavender boxers. A white fringe flopped over one side of his face as the tracer walked in to find Time occupying the loveseat in the living room.
Time sat curled up on a couch and rested his elbow over the coffee table. After scraping enough money from missions and other miscellaneous jobs around town, he and his counterparts were able to afford a small house, merging and converting two rooms into labs. The living room served as a home station for the three of them to meet at the end of the day, although Time had been spending less time there as the days dragged on and the experiments became longer. There were tests he wanted to run before taking the first leap to see if the years of research have finally paid off.
The time traveler raised his shoulders and cried in response to a pair of cold hands pressed against the nape of his neck. Time stretched his arms to untangle Arc’s arms away with blurry eyes, his face all pink and flustered. Arc pouted and crossed his arms with a small huff.
“How come when Psych does it, it’s fine?” Arc feigned sadness, “but when I do it, you pull back and act like my arms are jellyfish?”
“Psych will hug even if I tell him not to,” Time said.
“But I can’t do it?” Arc sighed and pulled out Dynamo to show the digital display reading 2:41 AM. “Anyway, it’s late. You should sleep.”
“That’s cute coming out of you,” Time snorted. “When did you become meticulous about sleep?”
He saw the strange places Arc had fallen asleep in, including the one time he fell asleep in the cabinet where they kept their rice. The scientist woke up in a daze, confused as to why Time made him get off so they could prepare dinner. Psych was less discreet and howled with laughter until Arc stomped his foot. It was like living with children, Time chuckled at the fond memory and smiled.
“At least change your clothes,” Arc mumbled.
Time didn’t reply.
The time traveler sat slouched over, tucking his head in with one eye peeking past his white bangs. Time clutched his fingers around his pen as he dabbled into his journal with tired eyes. The heavy bags in his eyes were threatening to shut down as he forced themselves open with little success. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fought to squeeze out the numbers he needed for the last set of equations.
His mind spiraled down a twisted staircase of exhaustion, numbers falling past him as he closed his eyes. The codes he found in the burnt libraries in Feita, it wasn’t enough. All of them were utter trash and unworthy of being glossed over when Allegro directed him to the half-collapsed buildings buried deep in the valleys occupied by demons. Their faded pages flaked into dust as the smallest touch. The luckier ones contained codes once used in the Nasod War before the others were discovered and lit up in fear of being used to advance the Nasod race. Stupid, really. Nasods and their creators always had files backed up containing vital data and resources.
It became uncomfortably warm where Time stood. Heat rose from where Time stood, a maze of bookcases enclaved in glass in a feeble attempt to protect them from destruction. Flames burst from behind him, eating away the pages and pages flown out, all of them depicting the same numbers and symbols in a desperate furry to be completed. Ink blotched out from the books’ contents and spilled over Time. Black ink pooled around the time traveler as he laid on the floor with his eyes staring back up to see a starry sky, unable to move.
Glass broke from the side window. Shards went flying in his direction and crushed into millions of smaller pieces on the floor. There was the sound of a man chuckling darkly against the thin walls of the ruined building echoed around him. The shape of a man in a lab coat shifted his glasses up in a silhouette through the opaque window.
Time crawled on his fours to stand up and gasped. A shadowed figure hunched over between the bookcases. Steam emitted from its nostrils hallmarked by electric blue fur standing up like bristles, a demon whispered about by the irrational archeologists and wary soldiers from the Feita camps. Time could only see its lower jaw lined by jagged teeth and the creature standing on hind legs.
“Time?”
He and the demon turned to the sound of his name.
“Time!”
He fluttered his eyes open to a pair of identical eyes clouded with frantic worry. Arc hovered over him and shook him by the shoulders, letting out a stream of ‘Are you ok?’ and ‘Time, I’m here’.
Time sat up to find himself cold in sweat and wrapped by a bundle of blankets. Opposite to him was a pile of blankets and pillows identical to his set up. Huh? He heard Arc’s words, but they seemed so far away. Did Arc stay with him the whole time? His eyes trailed over to the coffee table and the sheets of paper piling on the floor. The ink has dried, but he didn’t finish them…
“You were crying in your sleep,” Arc said. The researcher pressed his hand against Time’s forehead, so cool to the touch compared to the rest of Time’s body. “Was it a nightmare?”
Of course, it was, Time thought with shame. That was Father’s voice from the nightmare, his figure looming over and casting doubt into his ambition to achieve his goals. The nightmares were becoming frequent and there was no end to it. He didn’t tell Arc, of course. He didn’t want to make the other see him as incapable of sleeping through the night, but he knew Arc didn’t like it when he kept secrets from his counterpart.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel like it,” Arc sighed. Wrapping his arms around Time’s shoulders, he leaned over to kiss the top of the time traveler’s head, moving his lips and pressing them over Time’s sweaty forehead. He looked at Time and smiled, “I can make you tea. That might help you relax.”
“You don’t have to…” Time turned pinker than he already had.
“It’s okay to take care of yourself,” Arc said with sadness.
“I know that,” Time mumbled.
“If you don’t…” Arc broke into a toothy grin, “I’ll paint your nails pastel!”
“If you can catch me,” Time scoffed.
Arc was forgetting he had the ability to disappear into dimension pockets. Time looked at his alternate for a sign that the other was joking. What kind of petty threat was that? The researcher beamed and pulled out five different colors of nail polish from his oversized cat pockets - where in the name of El did he get those? The researcher snickered when he saw Time’s flabbergasted expression.
“Psych picked them out for me,” Arc smiled. “He said he’ll help me if you try to run away. I think the pink would look good on you”
...wonderful.
Between that or accepting Arc’s worrywart tendencies it was obvious which one to pick. Time looked down but nodded.
“I guess...” Time sighed, “I’ll have some tea.”
“So considerate of you,” Arc teased. “We’ve known each other for how long?”
“Four months,” Time counted with his fingers.
“Yet it’s like we’ve known each other for our whole lives,” Arc laughed.
Time snorted at the terrible joke. It was clear that Psych’s humor was rubbing off and that Arc was trying to cheer him up from the earnest smiles. They were sincere gestures, one that reminded Time of a simpler time when he was a child. He rubbed the spot where Arc had pressed his lips over, hiding his pinkened face with his long sleeves.
His mind grew alert as he watched Arc over to the kitchen. Time kneeled down to pick up the papers at his feet and frowned. Some of them were littered with drawings of cats and the demon monsters they fought in Feita. Did Arc draw these? Time sighed. His counterpart really was a child, and yet…
Time smiled when Arc returned minutes later with a platter with two identical cups and a tea kettle for the two of them to drink over a discussion about their latest research. He didn’t mind if every nightmare ended with this routine.
pairing; LPDE
wc; 894
rating; t (drinking)
notes; this is just me coping dont @ me
esper's hand is as steady as ever when he hands lusa his glass. on the contrary, it's lusa's hand that shakes when he takes it, slamming the glass back in what appears to not be even two full gulps.
he doesn't notice the whiskey has been watered down.
esper takes the glass and refills it from the bottle that had, magically, returned to three-quarters full in the middle of the night. he says nothing, just reaches over and runs a hand through lusa's hair. it's wild, from his hands tugging at it, from laying on his arm, from everything.
"sometimes i wonder if it's worth it. like, more than usual," lusa slurs, muffled in the crook of his elbow when he finally notices esper isn't handing him the glass yet.
"hm?"
"life," lusa says, as if that explained it. he's a little too drunk to actually make any sense, or keep on one topic for more than five minutes worth of attention span, but the worst part is esper knows what he means. "it's like a cycle of bullshit over and over."
"mmhm."
"but."
lusa falls silent, eyeing him like someone would an expensive trinket in the window of a shop they felt the pull to buy on first glance. there's something soft in the edges of his eyes, in the creases of his small squint. the lights are probably too bright for him by now.
"but?" esper prompts, nudging lusa's elbow with his. he contemplates using the glass as a bribe, or maybe leaning over and tasting the whiskey from the other's tongue.
"but then i see you." lusa's eyes take on a glint, something soft and homey, and it feels, for a split second, as though he's looking through esper, right at his heart or spirit or whatever the hell inhabits his dumb shell of a body, and can't contain his pure adoration. "and i think, fuck-- fuck, i--"
lusa sways, his chair leg scraping painfully against the floor. esper reaches out, yanks him by his unbuttoned sleeve, and helps him regain his stability.
"you're drunk as a skunk," he says.
lusa nods. "maybe so. but i gotta say this, dude. listen to me."
so esper does. but he takes the glass sitting between them and pours it down his own throat. it doesn't sting as bad as it would have without the brake. he reaches behind himself to lay the bottle onto the counter, as far away as his arm lets him.
"i look at you and, fuck, it's like the world's like. good."
"you're just gay," esper remarks. he tries not smiling at his own joke, or blush at lusa's words, but it seems he's failing both, and very spectacularly at that.
"fuck yeah i am. but it's true, it's like you just, i dunno."
"we should get you into bed."
"drunk sex? kinky."
"you're too drunk even for that. shut up."
"i love you."
"yes, yes, now come on."
"es, listen--" and there's something in the tone that makes esper pause, midway through leaning over to pull lusa up and haul him to bed to sleep his drunkenness off. "i… i know i'm drunk. but i still mean it, i do love you."
"and i love you, you big, drunk oaf," esper laughs. he leans down, thinks twice about it and then presses a kiss to lusa's forehead. the smell of alcohol is heavy between them, spreads in the whole kitchen, so maybe it's a good idea to leave and go to an untainted room.
it's a little too much to hope to get lusa in the shower at this point.
"you just gonna wallow?" esper asks, one corner of his lips tugging up unconsciously. "or you gonna get a glass of water for your morning hangover now?"
"you're always so fucking forthright. it's creepy."
"that's my middle name."
"no, it's not. your middle name is edward."
"no, it's definitely creepy. esper creepy grenore. there's also a 'fucking' in there somewhere."
"fuck you."
"maybe when you're sober, okay?"
"mm, 'm gonna sleep it off," lusa says.
he only sways a little when he gets up. esper trusts him not to kill himself on the way to the bedroom, but he still flits behind him and pulls out a pair or pajamas that lusa immediately knocks out of his hands. instead, he clamors into the bed after shucking his sweats and shirt, and esper sighs. he'll wake up cold.
"haven't you forgotten something?"
lusa looks sideways at him, misty eyes and falling eyelids. "hm?"
"you were supposed to prepare water for the morning."
lusa groans and turns over, burying his face into the pillow. his back moves along with his slowed breathing and esper sighs. there's a smile on his lips.
he grabs a glass from the bathroom, the one they usually use for brushing their teeth, and runs the tap. it's not like lusa will be able to tell in the morning anyway.
and maybe he'll even leave meds on the bedside table.
and maybe, just maybe, he'll tell lusa he loves him just as much. when he's not drunk. when he's sure lusa will absolutely remember it.
well, maybe. who knows what the morning will bring.
(he knows. it will be hours of lusa complaining about his hangover. maybe some placating kisses. all good things.)
