Thank-you sentences for Clockwork Clown behind the cut; “but it’s weird that it happened twice”.
(( chrono || non-chrono ))
“If anyone with a pulse asks, we met on the Internet and you’re just really into cosplay,” he says matter-of-factly, gesturing pointedly at Superboy’s whole entire . . . everything, and then beelining for the front door. Fuck it. Fuck it! He who hesitates is lost, or at least loses their best friend’s genetically-unstable little sister, and Tucker Foley is not trucking with that shit, alright?! He’s not! There is a problem and he is gonna solve the fucking problem, no matter how much stupid bullshit is between him and said solution!
“You’re the boss, big guy,” Superboy drawls as he follows him to the door.
. . . or how many way, way too pretty dudes, Tucker amends as he has to pause on the steps and spare a moment to speed-run developing enough self-control to not say something extremely weird in reply to that. He’s not even a big guy! He is in no way big at all, except maybe on a couple of extremely niche internet forums!
“Yeah, don’t think I won’t take full advantage of that position of authority, pretty boy,” he says with a smirk.
“‘Pretty boy’?” Superboy repeats incredulously, wrinkling his nose in distaste, which is honestly probably the least grossed-out reaction he could’ve expected to get. Tucker suffers, and also continues to fail mission “develop self-control” very, very badly.
“Listen, you’re pretty, that’s your cross to bear, not mine,” he lies with a dismissive shrug as he hits the Fentons’ doorbell, seeing as Superboy’s prettiness is absolutely his cross to bear. “Deal with it.”
Superboy doesn’t say anything. Tucker–pauses; glances over to him. Superboy’s looking at him with a really weird expression on his face, and immediately jolts and whips his head towards the door as soon as he sees him looking.
. . . okay, Tucker thinks, and then something explodes on the other side of the door and he gets distracted by needing to immediately throw himself at Superboy and cling to him before the guy tries to run in and be a superhero about said explosion.
“Normal! Normal thing! Normal Fentonworks thing!” he blurts, trying very hard not to focus on the warm, leather-wrapped muscles he is currently clinging to. He got used to Superboy holding him over the course of their multi-hour flight–like, arguably–but he did not get used to holding him, and also this time there’s actual ground under his feet so he’s not freaking out about possibly falling and breaking his spine or his PDA.
No, this time he just gets to freak out about warmth and leather and muscle, which is definitely, definitely worse.
It’s strange how comfortable you can get working in certain colour pallets and how awkward it can feel to shift to an unfamiliar one. This was a very “trust the process” kind of piece
That being said there’s definitely bits and pieces that I’m really happy with the current look of. Might come back and touch this one up later when it’s not 1:30am haha
