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Fossils & Pancakes — MOTM

Summary: Life together should be impossible for two people as different as them, one is calm, quiet, and patient — someone who fixes things carefully and speaks only when it matters.

The other is loud, curious, endlessly energetic — a paleontologist who leaves trails of dust, misplaced boots, and scientific excitement everywhere she goes, their days are full of chaotic mornings, fossil-shaped breakfasts, dancing under string lights, and quiet evenings where neither of them really needs to say much at all.

Somehow, despite being complete opposites, they fit together perfectly — balancing each other in ways neither of them expected, because sometimes love isn’t about being similar.

Sometimes it’s about being exactly what the other person needs.

Pairing: Myth Boris x Myth Shelly

Genre: Romance, Slice of Life and Domestic Fluff

Trope: Opposites Attract, Quiet x Loud Couple, Domestic Life, Soft Romance, Comfort Relationship, Playful Teasing, Everyday Love and “They Make No Sense But It Works” Dynamic

Rating: G (General)

The house stayed quiet for a while.

Not the tense kind of quiet that meant Shelly had wandered off somewhere in the house and was about to appear holding something dangerous, historically significant, or both at the same time.

No, this was the rare, gentle quiet.

The kind that only existed when Shelly had finally, finally run out of energy.

Boris had learned there were two kinds of silence in their home.

The peaceful kind.

And the suspicious kind.

This one was peaceful.

Shelly slept curled against his side on the couch, one arm loosely hooked around his middle like sometime in her sleep she had grabbed onto him and simply decided he belonged there now.

Her fingers were lightly tangled in the fabric of his shirt, knuckles relaxed, grip absentminded but stubborn in that way people sometimes held onto something without realizing it.

She had probably done it without even waking up.

Boris didn’t move.

He rarely did when Shelly fell asleep on him.

Partly because he didn’t want to wake her.

Partly because… he didn’t actually want to move at all.

His tail thumped slowly and lazily against the couch cushion behind him, the soft rhythm almost unconscious. The movement was small, steady, the sort of quiet contentment he never really thought about but Shelly noticed every single time.

Shelly stirred slightly at the sound, her grip tightening just a little around him as if her sleeping brain had registered the familiar rhythm. Her blank slate scrunched faintly as she shifted, adjusting herself like someone searching for a more comfortable position without fully waking.

“…Boris?”

Her voice was thick with sleep, barely more than a murmur.

Boris glanced down at her, his ears tilting forward slightly as he shifted just enough to look at her face without disturbing her. His posture remained careful, shoulders barely moving.

“I’m here.”

His voice stayed low, calm, the kind of tone people used instinctively when talking to someone who was half asleep.

Shelly shifted a little, her cheek pressing more firmly against his side, face squishing slightly against the fabric of his shirt. Her hand twitched faintly where it rested against him before settling again.

Her eyes didn’t even open.

“Did we catalog the fossil?” she mumbled, the words slow and slurred together like they had to push through several layers of sleep to reach the surface.

Boris blinked once.

Of course that was what she was thinking about. Even half asleep her brain was still wandering through dig sites and museum catalogs.

“Tomorrow,” he answered quietly, one hand coming up to rest lightly against her shoulder so she didn’t accidentally roll off the couch. His thumb absentmindedly brushed the dust on her sleeve, rubbing a small line through the dirt without really thinking about it.

Shelly made a small thoughtful sound.

“…Okay.”

The word came out in a soft exhale.

And then she was asleep again almost instantly.

Just like that.

Boris watched her for a moment.

Shelly Fossilian, the most energetic person he had ever met besides his own brother, slept like someone who had completely burned through every drop of energy in her body.

Which, knowing her, she probably had.

There was still a faint layer of dust on her from the dig site earlier that day. Small grains of dirt clung stubbornly along the edge of her goggles and around her temple, catching faintly in the soft orange light coming through the window.

There was a faint smudge of dirt along the sleeve of her shirt.

Another along her cheek.

Her goggles were still crooked on the top of her head, one strap slightly twisted like she had pushed them up quickly and simply forgotten they were there afterward.

And somehow she looked perfectly comfortable like that.

Like falling asleep covered in dust and leaning against someone was the most natural thing in the world.

Boris carefully reached over with one hand, slowly pulling the blanket from the back of the couch. The motion was slow and deliberate, the same careful patience he used when adjusting delicate machine parts or tightening tiny screws inside complicated engines.

He draped the blanket gently over her shoulders.

Shelly made a quiet, content little sound in response, something soft and sleepy in the back of her throat, nuzzling slightly deeper against him like a sleepy cat finding a warmer spot.

Her hand shifted again, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt.

His ears flicked.

It still surprised him sometimes.

How someone so loud, so energetic, so fearless could trust him enough to fall asleep like this.

Anywhere near him.

Anywhere on him.

Shelly trusted him with complete, effortless certainty.

Like it had never even occurred to her that she shouldn’t, it has been this way since the first time they met.

His gaze softened slightly as he looked down at her.

Boris leaned his head back against the couch.

The house was dim now, the warm orange light of evening filtering softly through the windows and stretching long shadows across the wooden floor.

Dust particles floated slowly through the sunlight near the window, drifting lazily through the air whenever a small breeze slipped through the cracks.

Somewhere outside, crickets had started their slow chorus.

The faint ticking of a clock from the hallway blended into the quiet rhythm of the evening.

For a while, nothing happened.

Boris simply sat there, one arm loosely resting along the back of the couch behind her, the other still lightly resting against her shoulder beneath the blanket.

The quiet stretched peacefully.

Then Shelly started talking again.

Still asleep.

“…And trilobites…”

Boris blinked.

Her voice was soft and dreamy, words drifting out slowly like fragments of a lecture that had followed her into sleep.

“…Were very cool.”

He almost laughed.

Almost.

One corner of his mouth twitched upward before he caught himself.

Shelly mumbled something else under her breath, something about “sedimentary layers” and “amazing preservation,” her voice slurring the words together like her brain had decided to give a midnight lecture in her dreams.

Her featureless skin wrinkled slightly as she spoke, eyebrows pulling together in sleepy concentration like she was explaining something very important to an invisible audience.

“…Fossil formation takes millions of years…” she murmured faintly, voice fading in and out. “…Incredible geological patience…”

Boris glanced down at her again, one eyebrow lifting slightly.

“…Yeah.”

His voice was barely above a whisper.

“They were.”

Shelly hummed softly in response, like she had heard him somewhere inside her dream.

Then her breathing evened out again.

The lecture ended.

The quiet returned.

Boris stayed exactly where he was.

Not moving.

Not rushing the moment.

His tail gave another slow, gentle thump against the couch cushion behind him.

And this time Shelly didn’t stir at all.

𓂃 ಄ : . 𐂯

The next morning began exactly the way it always did.

With chaos.

“BORIS.”

He was already in the kitchen.

Of course he was.

Boris stood at the counter calmly stirring something in a pan, his tail swaying slowly behind him as the smell of breakfast filled the room. The quiet sizzle of batter cooking contrasted sharply with the incoming storm he already knew was coming.

The morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen windows in long golden strips, warming the wooden floor and the cluttered countertops.

The smell of butter and syrup lingered in the air, soft and comforting.

Boris flipped another pancake with a smooth motion of the spatula.

He didn’t even look toward the hallway when the voice came again.

“WHERE ARE MY BOOTS.”

His ears flicked slightly.

He turned the pancake once more, calm as ever.

“They’re by the door.”

There was a pause in the hallway.

A thud.

Then the unmistakable sound of someone tripping over something that had definitely been on the floor for at least two days.

“OW—”

Boris didn’t react.

A moment later Shelly appeared in the kitchen doorway.

She was wearing one glove.

Her goggles were crooked again.

Her goggles had clearly been shoved onto her head in a hurry, sitting slightly askew like she had forgotten they were even there.

And she was not wearing boots.

Shelly stared at him suspiciously, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to solve a scientific mystery.

Her gaze slowly scanned the kitchen.

Then returned to him.

“How do you always know where my stuff is?” she asked, folding her arms and leaning against the doorframe with exaggerated suspicion.

Boris glanced at her briefly before returning to the stove, flipping another pancake with practiced ease.

“You leave a trail.”

Shelly crossed her arms immediately.

“That’s not true.”

Boris reached for another spoonful of batter.

“You left your scarf in the refrigerator yesterday.”

Shelly froze.

Completely still.

Her expression slowly shifted from confident denial… to realization.

Her eyes drifted slightly to the side as she thought about it.

“…That explains a lot actually.”

Boris hummed quietly in acknowledgment.

Shelly wandered into the kitchen now, her socked feet shuffling lazily across the wooden floor. She scratched the side of her head absently with the gloved hand, clearly still waking up.

“Also,” she added thoughtfully, glancing toward the counter, “in my defense the refrigerator is cold. Which makes sense for preserving artifacts.”

Boris raised one eyebrow.

“…Your scarf is not an artifact.”

Shelly tilted her head.

“It could be.”

“You bought it last week.”

“Future artifact.”

Boris decided not to argue with that.

Instead, he slid a plate across the table toward her without another word.

The ceramic plate made a soft scraping sound against the wood.

Shelly walked over, still mid-thought about scarf preservation, and looked down.

Then she stopped.

Pancakes.

But not normal pancakes.

These were shaped like tiny fossils.

Little trilobites.

A spiral ammonite.

And something that suspiciously looked like a small dinosaur skull.

Shelly stared.

Her eyes slowly widened with delight.

Her jaw dropped slightly.

“…You’re ridiculous,” she said quietly, like someone witnessing something both absurd and miraculous at the same time.

Boris shrugged slightly, pouring coffee into two mugs with steady hands. Steam curled gently upward from the cups.

“You eat them.”

Shelly immediately dropped into the chair like she had been waiting her entire life for this exact moment.

The chair scraped loudly across the floor.

“Because they’re perfect,” she declared dramatically, already grabbing the syrup bottle.

She poured far too much syrup over the plate, completely drowning one unfortunate trilobite.

Then she took a bite immediately.

Her shoulders relaxed.

Her eyes closed briefly.

“Mmm.”

She pointed her fork at the plate approvingly.

“This one tastes like sedimentary excellence.”

Boris sat across from her with his coffee, watching quietly as she devoured the fossil pancakes with the enthusiasm of someone who had just discovered a new species.

She barely even chewed properly before going for the next one.

Syrup dripped slightly onto the plate as she stabbed the ammonite with her fork.

“This one,” she continued thoughtfully between bites, “is definitely from the Jurassic period.”

Boris took a slow sip of coffee.

“…They’re just pancakes.”

Shelly pointed the fork at him dramatically.

“Respect the science.”

He lowered the mug again, completely unimpressed.

Shelly chewed thoughtfully for a moment before suddenly pointing at him again with the same fork, syrup still dripping slightly from it.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about.”

Boris took another slow sip of coffee, eyes half-lidded.

“Sounds dangerous.”

Shelly grinned.

“Dancing.”

Boris paused mid-sip.

The mug hovered halfway to his mouth.

Slowly, very slowly, he lowered it again.

“…What.”

Shelly leaned forward across the table, elbows planted on the wood, eyes bright with excitement like she had just uncovered the greatest discovery of the century.

“There’s a band playing tonight in town,” she said quickly, bouncing slightly in her seat.

Boris slowly set the mug down.

“And?”

Shelly pointed at him again like a detective revealing the final clue in a dramatic courtroom scene.

“And we should go.”

Boris leaned back slightly in his chair, folding his arms.

“I don’t dance.”

Shelly gasped dramatically.

Actually gasped.

She clutched her chest with one hand as if personally offended by this statement.

“You absolutely dance.”

“I stand.”

“That counts.”

“It does not.”

Shelly leaned forward even further, nearly halfway across the table now, pancakes temporarily forgotten.

“You literally taught me how to swing dance.”

“You stepped on my foot.”

“You have big feet.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

Shelly’s grin only widened.

“Details.”

Boris rubbed his temple slowly like he already felt a headache forming.

Shelly stabbed another pancake triumphantly.

“So we’re going.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

They stared at each other across the table.

Shelly’s expression was determined, stubborn excitement radiating from every inch of her posture as she leaned forward like a challenger preparing for battle.

Boris’s expression was tired.

Completely exhausted by the conversation that hadn’t even technically started yet.

His tail wagged once behind him.

Just once.

“I'll think about it.”

Shelly slammed her hands down on the table so hard the silverware rattled.

The coffee mugs trembled.

“YES.”

She jumped up from the chair immediately like someone who had just won a championship.

“I KNEW IT.”

Boris pinched the bridge of his muzzle slowly.

“I said I will think about it.”

Shelly was already halfway across the kitchen.

“IT COUNTS.”

She grabbed her other glove from the counter.

Then froze.

Then looked back at him.

“…Wait.”

Boris looked up.

Shelly pointed toward the door.

“…My boots actually are by the door.”

Boris took another calm sip of coffee.

“Yes.”

Shelly squinted at him suspiciously again.

“…You’re weirdly powerful.”

𓂃 ಄ : . 𐂯

That evening the town square was alive with music.

Warm string lights hung between the old brick buildings, glowing softly against the darkening sky like tiny golden stars.

They swayed slightly in the gentle evening breeze, casting warm pools of light across the square below.

The wooden dance floor in the center of the square was already full of people spinning and laughing, shoes tapping against the boards in quick rhythms that matched the music drifting through the air.

A lively band played on a small wooden stage at the far end of the square. A trumpet rang bright and playful over the steady beat of the drums while a saxophone curled through the melody.

The musicians swayed with the rhythm as they played, clearly enjoying the crowd as much as the crowd enjoyed them.

Couples filled the square.

Some danced confidently with practiced steps.

Some stumbled and laughed through half-learned moves.

Others simply swayed together under the lights.

The whole place buzzed with movement and warmth and noise.

Shelly looked like she might explode from excitement.

She bounced slightly on her heels, practically vibrating with energy as she stood at the edge of the square. Her eyes darted everywhere at once, soaking in the music, the lights, the movement, the crowd.

“Ooooh this is perfect,” she whispered breathlessly, clutching Boris’s sleeve like someone witnessing the greatest discovery of their life. “Look at the band! And the floor! And the—oh my gosh someone’s doing aerials—”

Boris, meanwhile, looked like someone who had been dragged somewhere against his will.

Which, technically, he had.

He stood beside her with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, ears angled back just a little as he watched the chaos unfolding in front of him.

His tail gave a slow, uncertain flick behind him.

Shelly grabbed his hand suddenly.

“Come on!”

Boris barely moved.

“I can hear the music from here,” he said calmly, glancing toward the crowded dance floor like it might attack him if he got too close.

“That’s not the point!” Shelly protested immediately, tugging harder on his arm.

Boris planted his feet.

Shelly tugged again.

Then again.

He moved about three inches.

Shelly squinted at him suspiciously.

“…Are you resisting?”

“No.”

“You’re resisting.”

“I’m standing.”

Shelly huffed dramatically and grabbed his wrist with both hands now, leaning backward with all the determination of someone trying to drag a stubborn boulder uphill.

“Come on!”

Boris allowed himself to be pulled forward a few more steps, though the slow pace suggested he was mostly cooperating out of politeness rather than enthusiasm.

They reached the edge of the dance floor just as a couple spun past them laughing, the woman’s dress twirling out in a bright swirl of color.

People moved everywhere.

Quick footwork.

Fast turns.

Laughter everywhere.

The wooden boards thumped softly beneath the dancers' shoes as the music bounced through the square.

Shelly bounced on her toes again, practically glowing with excitement now that they were closer.

“Okay okay okay we’re starting with Shag,” she announced rapidly, pointing toward the floor like a commander giving orders.

“No.”

Shelly turned to stare at him.

“Why not?”

“It’s too fast.” Boris gestured toward the dancers practically sprinting across the floor with lightning quick steps.

“You’re too slow.”

“…Shelly."

“FINE.”

She grabbed both his hands dramatically and yanked him forward another step.

“West Coast Swing.”

Boris sighed deeply.

The kind of sigh that suggested he had already accepted his fate.

Then he stepped forward.

Shelly blinked in surprise.

“…Wait really?” she asked, her grip loosening slightly in shock.

“You wanted to dance,” Boris replied simply.

Her grin stretched from ear to ear.

The music shifted then, the band sliding smoothly into a slower rhythm. The drums softened while the bass line rolled steady and warm beneath the melody.

The crowd adjusted naturally as couples shifted into smoother movements.

Boris gently guided her into the first step, one hand steady at her waist while the other held her hand loosely. His movements were calm and practiced, the same quiet precision he used when repairing engines or adjusting delicate machinery.

Shelly immediately stumbled.

Her foot landed half a beat too early.

Then she burst into laughter.

“I told you I need someone to lead!” she said between giggles, grabbing his shoulder for balance.

“I am,” Boris replied evenly, steadying her with a gentle shift of his arm.

Shelly leaned closer to him, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Oh I noticed.”

Boris ignored that completely.

They moved slowly across the floor.

Boris was stiff at first, his posture careful and controlled as he guided the steps.

Shelly, meanwhile, was enthusiastic.

Extremely enthusiastic.

Which meant she missed about half the steps.

She spun too early once and nearly bumped into another couple.

“Sorry!” she called cheerfully as Boris smoothly redirected her back into place before disaster could strike.

Another time she forgot which foot she was supposed to move and ended up stepping directly onto Boris’s shoe.

“Ah—”

“Shelly.”

“Sorry!” she laughed again, though she didn’t look particularly sorry.

But Boris adjusted easily.

Every time she lost rhythm he simply guided her back into place with a gentle shift of his hand at her waist or a careful tug of her arm.

It was effortless for him.

Like steering a boat through slightly choppy water.

Eventually Shelly stopped focusing on the steps entirely.

Instead she started talking.

“…Did you know fossilized tree sap can preserve insects perfectly?” she asked suddenly, as if they were having this conversation over tea instead of in the middle of a dance floor.

“Yes.”

“…You’re not even surprised anymore."

“No.”

Shelly laughed softly, the sound mixing with the music around them.

A trumpet blared joyfully nearby as another couple spun past them.

They kept dancing.

Step.

Turn.

Shelly nearly forgot the turn again.

Boris gently guided her through it anyway.

“…Also technically it’s called amber,” she continued thoughtfully, swinging back toward him. “Which is basically fossilized resin and—”

“Yes.”

“You’re listening?” she asked suddenly, tilting her head with exaggerated suspicion.

“I always listen.”

Shelly smiled at that.

A real one this time.

The kind that softened her whole expression.

And slowly Boris relaxed.

The stiffness left his shoulders little by little as the music continued.

His tail began moving gently with the rhythm.

Shelly noticed immediately.

Of course she did.

Her eyes narrowed playfully.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“No.”

“You are.”

“No.”

“You are.”

Boris hesitated.

Just slightly.

“…A little bit.”

Shelly smiled warmly.

Then rested her head briefly against his chest as they continued swaying to the music, her hand still loosely clasped in his.

The movement slowed naturally with the next song.

The band softened into something gentler now, the melody slower and warmer as the night settled deeper around the square.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

For once, Shelly wasn’t talking.

For once, Boris wasn’t hiding his small smile.

They simply moved together under the soft glow of the lights, the music carrying them along like the easiest thing in the world.

𓂃 ಄ : . 𐂯

Later they walked home under the quiet night sky.

The town lights faded slowly behind them as they moved farther down the road, the glow of the square shrinking into warm golden dots in the distance. The lively sounds of the band and laughing voices gradually softened until they were nothing more than faint echoes carried on the cool night air.

Crickets chirped steadily from the grass along the roadside.

A soft breeze moved through the trees, rustling the leaves overhead.

The night felt calm.

Peaceful.

Shelly kicked a small rock along the path as she walked, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of her jacket. Each step sent the rock skittering forward along the dirt road with a soft tick tick tick against the ground.

She hummed under her breath, still riding the leftover excitement from the evening. Every now and then she gave a little bounce in her step like the music was still playing somewhere in the back of her mind.

Boris walked beside her at his usual steady pace, hands loosely in his pockets.

His tail swayed lazily behind him as he watched her kick the rock again.

It bounced slightly to the side of the path this time.

Shelly chased after it immediately.

Boris glanced down at her boots.

“Did you step in the flowerbed.”

Shelly froze mid-step.

The rock rolled another few inches before stopping.

Slowly—very slowly—she turned her head toward him.

“…Maybe.”

“You did.”

"Maybe.”

She avoided eye contact now, staring very intently at the road like it held the secrets of the universe.

Boris sighed softly, though there was no real frustration in it. Just quiet, familiar resignation.

Shelly bumped her shoulder against his playfully as she resumed walking, grinning like someone who had absolutely no intention of feeling guilty about anything.

“You love me.”

“Yes.”

Shelly froze.

Completely.

Her brain clearly buffering.

She turned slowly toward him, eyes wide.

“…Wait.”

Boris kept walking like nothing had happened, gaze forward, completely calm.

Shelly blinked once.

Then twice.

Then suddenly ran ahead of him, boots crunching lightly against the gravel. She spun around dramatically to face him while walking backwards down the road.

“YOU JUST SAID IT.”

Boris stopped walking.

He looked at her calmly.

“Said what.”

Shelly pointed at him dramatically like she was presenting undeniable courtroom evidence.

“YOU SAID YOU LOVE ME.”

Boris blinked slowly.

“…Did I?”

“Yes!”

She threw both her arms up in the air for emphasis.

“You said it! Out loud! Without me even putting you into a dramatic confession scenario!”

Boris stood there for a moment.

Then realization slowly caught up with him.

His ears lowered just a little.

“Oh.”

Shelly gasped dramatically.

“Oh?? OH??? That’s all you have to say???”

Then she lunged forward and threw her arms around him in an instant, hugging him tightly around the middle.

“YOU SAID IT.”

“Shelly.”

“I WIN.”

“You weren’t competing.”

“I was.”

Boris sighed again, the sound long and patient.

But his tail wagged.

Shelly squeezed him tighter for another second before finally stepping back, though she was still beaming like she had just uncovered the greatest discovery in the history of archaeology.

“You know what I love about us?” she said suddenly, rocking back slightly on her heels.

Boris tilted his head slightly.

“What?”

Shelly gestured between them dramatically like she was presenting a scientific diagram to an audience.

“We make no sense.”

Boris raised one eyebrow.

Shelly immediately started counting on her fingers.

“You’re quiet.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not.”

“No.”

“You fix machines.”

“Yes.”

“I dig holes.”

“Yes.”

“You cook weird food.”

“Yes.”

“I set things on fire sometimes.”

Boris paused.

“…Yes.”

Shelly grinned proudly like she had just proven a brilliant theory, looking up at Boris with love in her eyes.

“And somehow we work.”

Boris looked down at her.

For a moment he didn’t say anything.

The wind rustled softly through the trees nearby.

The glow of a nearby streetlight cast warm light across the quiet road.

Then he gently rested his chin against the top of her head, his arms loosely wrapping around her shoulders as they stood beneath the warm glow of the streetlight.

“We do.”

Shelly leaned comfortably into him, resting easily against his chest like it was the most natural place in the world to be.

They stood like that for a moment.

Two completely different people.

One loud.

One quiet.

One chaotic.

One steady.

And somehow perfectly balanced.

Shelly tilted her head slightly, looking up at him with that familiar spark already returning to her eyes.

“…Hey Boris.”

“Yes.”

“When we get home can we try making that apple cinnamon soup again?”

Boris looked down at her slowly.

“…You said it was illegal.”

Shelly shrugged casually.

“I changed my mind.”

Boris stared at her for a moment.

Then his tail wagged once.

“Okay.”

Shelly’s face lit up instantly.

She grabbed his hand again and immediately started pulling him down the road with renewed energy.

“RACE YOU.”

Boris didn’t move.

Shelly took two steps before realizing.

She turned back.

“Boris.”

“You’re going to trip.”

“I am not—”

Her foot caught on a rock immediately.

Shelly stumbled forward with a startled yelp, arms flailing slightly as she lost her balance.

But before she could fall, Boris caught her easily by the arm, steadying her like he had done a thousand times before.

His grip was firm but gentle.

Shelly blinked up at him sheepishly.

“…Okay maybe.”

Boris steadied her carefully until she was standing properly again.

Then he gently squeezed her hand.

“Come on, let's go home.”

This time they walked the rest of the way back home together.

Slow.

Comfortable.

Their steps naturally falling into the same rhythm as they moved down the quiet road beneath the night sky.

Perfectly balanced.

Author's note: I've been waiting for this moment for MONTHS as a Dogbone shipper (ship name given by some members on the myth server), I've been shipping these two for so long and talking about them as much as I could on the server and making other people see and understand my vision of how and why they would be a perfect duo, either platonically or romantically, I love them, the new update was ABSOLUTE CINEMA when it came to their first time meeting each other.

I was acting super normal on the chat when I saw Boris blushing because of Shelly, especially when she hugged him and she carried him bride style to take him to a safe place after he helped her because she saved him and his brother, and he wanted to repay her by helping her in return—

My little babies, they're literally the duo/couple tropes: brooding guy x sunshine girl, blushes easily but tries to hide it x also blushes easily but can be really obviously most of the time, doesn't smile much in front of others x naturally smiles all the time, stays on guard the whole time x tries to enjoy life the best they can, fell first and harder x fell last but still just as hard as their crush did UGHHHH 💖💖💖

I know I only post "myth x reader" here, but I also write "oc x canon" and "canon x canon" on the server. If you like these and liked this one, then I'll start posting them here too.

I hope you guys enjoyed it <3

#myth of the machine #motm #myth boris #motm boris #myth shelly #motm shelly #dogbone #pupshell #boris x shelly

Fossils & Pancakes — MOTM

Summary: Life together should be impossible for two people as different as them, one is calm, quiet, and patient — someone who fixes things carefully and speaks only when it matters.

Somehow, despite being complete opposites, they fit together perfectly — balancing each other in ways neither of them expected, because sometimes love isn’t about being similar.

Sometimes it’s about being exactly what the other person needs.

Pairing: Myth Boris x Myth Shelly

Genre: Romance, Slice of Life and Domestic Fluff

Trope: Opposites Attract, Quiet x Loud Couple, Domestic Life, Soft Romance, Comfort Relationship, Playful Teasing, Everyday Love and “They Make No Sense But It Works” Dynamic

Rating: G (General)

The house stayed quiet for a while.

Not the tense kind of quiet that meant Shelly had wandered off somewhere in the house and was about to appear holding something dangerous, historically significant, or both at the same time.

No, this was the rare, gentle quiet.

The kind that only existed when Shelly had finally, finally run out of energy.

Boris had learned there were two kinds of silence in their home.

The peaceful kind.

And the suspicious kind.

This one was peaceful.

Shelly slept curled against his side on the couch, one arm loosely hooked around his middle like sometime in her sleep she had grabbed onto him and simply decided he belonged there now.

Her fingers were lightly tangled in the fabric of his shirt, knuckles relaxed, grip absentminded but stubborn in that way people sometimes held onto something without realizing it.

She had probably done it without even waking up.

Boris didn’t move.

He rarely did when Shelly fell asleep on him.

Partly because he didn’t want to wake her.

Partly because… he didn’t actually want to move at all.

“…Boris?”

Her voice was thick with sleep, barely more than a murmur.

Boris glanced down at her, his ears tilting forward slightly as he shifted just enough to look at her face without disturbing her. His posture remained careful, shoulders barely moving.

“I’m here.”

His voice stayed low, calm, the kind of tone people used instinctively when talking to someone who was half asleep.

Her eyes didn’t even open.

“Did we catalog the fossil?” she mumbled, the words slow and slurred together like they had to push through several layers of sleep to reach the surface.

Boris blinked once.

Of course that was what she was thinking about. Even half asleep her brain was still wandering through dig sites and museum catalogs.

Shelly made a small thoughtful sound.

“…Okay.”

The word came out in a soft exhale.

And then she was asleep again almost instantly.

Just like that.

Boris watched her for a moment.

Shelly Fossilian, the most energetic person he had ever met besides his own brother, slept like someone who had completely burned through every drop of energy in her body.

Which, knowing her, she probably had.

There was a faint smudge of dirt along the sleeve of her shirt.

Another along her cheek.

Her goggles were still crooked on the top of her head, one strap slightly twisted like she had pushed them up quickly and simply forgotten they were there afterward.

And somehow she looked perfectly comfortable like that.

Like falling asleep covered in dust and leaning against someone was the most natural thing in the world.

He draped the blanket gently over her shoulders.

Shelly made a quiet, content little sound in response, something soft and sleepy in the back of her throat, nuzzling slightly deeper against him like a sleepy cat finding a warmer spot.

Her hand shifted again, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt.

His ears flicked.

It still surprised him sometimes.

How someone so loud, so energetic, so fearless could trust him enough to fall asleep like this.

Anywhere near him.

Anywhere on him.

Shelly trusted him with complete, effortless certainty.

Like it had never even occurred to her that she shouldn’t, it has been this way since the first time they met.

His gaze softened slightly as he looked down at her.

Boris leaned his head back against the couch.

The house was dim now, the warm orange light of evening filtering softly through the windows and stretching long shadows across the wooden floor.

Dust particles floated slowly through the sunlight near the window, drifting lazily through the air whenever a small breeze slipped through the cracks.

Somewhere outside, crickets had started their slow chorus.

The faint ticking of a clock from the hallway blended into the quiet rhythm of the evening.

For a while, nothing happened.

Boris simply sat there, one arm loosely resting along the back of the couch behind her, the other still lightly resting against her shoulder beneath the blanket.

The quiet stretched peacefully.

Then Shelly started talking again.

Still asleep.

“…And trilobites…”

Boris blinked.

Her voice was soft and dreamy, words drifting out slowly like fragments of a lecture that had followed her into sleep.

“…Were very cool.”

He almost laughed.

Almost.

One corner of his mouth twitched upward before he caught himself.

Her featureless skin wrinkled slightly as she spoke, eyebrows pulling together in sleepy concentration like she was explaining something very important to an invisible audience.

“…Fossil formation takes millions of years…” she murmured faintly, voice fading in and out. “…Incredible geological patience…”

Boris glanced down at her again, one eyebrow lifting slightly.

“…Yeah.”

His voice was barely above a whisper.

“They were.”

Shelly hummed softly in response, like she had heard him somewhere inside her dream.

Then her breathing evened out again.

The lecture ended.

The quiet returned.

Boris stayed exactly where he was.

Not moving.

Not rushing the moment.

His tail gave another slow, gentle thump against the couch cushion behind him.

And this time Shelly didn’t stir at all.

𓂃 ಄ : . 𐂯

The next morning began exactly the way it always did.

With chaos.

“BORIS.”

He was already in the kitchen.

Of course he was.

The morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen windows in long golden strips, warming the wooden floor and the cluttered countertops.

The smell of butter and syrup lingered in the air, soft and comforting.

Boris flipped another pancake with a smooth motion of the spatula.

He didn’t even look toward the hallway when the voice came again.

“WHERE ARE MY BOOTS.”

His ears flicked slightly.

He turned the pancake once more, calm as ever.

“They’re by the door.”

There was a pause in the hallway.

A thud.

Then the unmistakable sound of someone tripping over something that had definitely been on the floor for at least two days.

“OW—”

Boris didn’t react.

A moment later Shelly appeared in the kitchen doorway.

She was wearing one glove.

Her goggles were crooked again.

Her goggles had clearly been shoved onto her head in a hurry, sitting slightly askew like she had forgotten they were even there.

And she was not wearing boots.

Shelly stared at him suspiciously, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to solve a scientific mystery.

Her gaze slowly scanned the kitchen.

Then returned to him.

“How do you always know where my stuff is?” she asked, folding her arms and leaning against the doorframe with exaggerated suspicion.

Boris glanced at her briefly before returning to the stove, flipping another pancake with practiced ease.

“You leave a trail.”

Shelly crossed her arms immediately.

“That’s not true.”

Boris reached for another spoonful of batter.

“You left your scarf in the refrigerator yesterday.”

Shelly froze.

Completely still.

Her expression slowly shifted from confident denial… to realization.

Her eyes drifted slightly to the side as she thought about it.

“…That explains a lot actually.”

Boris hummed quietly in acknowledgment.

Shelly wandered into the kitchen now, her socked feet shuffling lazily across the wooden floor. She scratched the side of her head absently with the gloved hand, clearly still waking up.

“Also,” she added thoughtfully, glancing toward the counter, “in my defense the refrigerator is cold. Which makes sense for preserving artifacts.”

Boris raised one eyebrow.

“…Your scarf is not an artifact.”

Shelly tilted her head.

“It could be.”

“You bought it last week.”

“Future artifact.”

Boris decided not to argue with that.

Instead, he slid a plate across the table toward her without another word.

The ceramic plate made a soft scraping sound against the wood.

Shelly walked over, still mid-thought about scarf preservation, and looked down.

Then she stopped.

Pancakes.

But not normal pancakes.

These were shaped like tiny fossils.

Little trilobites.

A spiral ammonite.

And something that suspiciously looked like a small dinosaur skull.

Shelly stared.

Her eyes slowly widened with delight.

Her jaw dropped slightly.

“…You’re ridiculous,” she said quietly, like someone witnessing something both absurd and miraculous at the same time.

Boris shrugged slightly, pouring coffee into two mugs with steady hands. Steam curled gently upward from the cups.

“You eat them.”

Shelly immediately dropped into the chair like she had been waiting her entire life for this exact moment.

The chair scraped loudly across the floor.

“Because they’re perfect,” she declared dramatically, already grabbing the syrup bottle.

She poured far too much syrup over the plate, completely drowning one unfortunate trilobite.

Then she took a bite immediately.

Her shoulders relaxed.

Her eyes closed briefly.

“Mmm.”

She pointed her fork at the plate approvingly.

“This one tastes like sedimentary excellence.”

Boris sat across from her with his coffee, watching quietly as she devoured the fossil pancakes with the enthusiasm of someone who had just discovered a new species.

She barely even chewed properly before going for the next one.

Syrup dripped slightly onto the plate as she stabbed the ammonite with her fork.

“This one,” she continued thoughtfully between bites, “is definitely from the Jurassic period.”

Boris took a slow sip of coffee.

“…They’re just pancakes.”

Shelly pointed the fork at him dramatically.

“Respect the science.”

He lowered the mug again, completely unimpressed.

Shelly chewed thoughtfully for a moment before suddenly pointing at him again with the same fork, syrup still dripping slightly from it.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about.”

Boris took another slow sip of coffee, eyes half-lidded.

“Sounds dangerous.”

Shelly grinned.

“Dancing.”

Boris paused mid-sip.

The mug hovered halfway to his mouth.

Slowly, very slowly, he lowered it again.

“…What.”

Shelly leaned forward across the table, elbows planted on the wood, eyes bright with excitement like she had just uncovered the greatest discovery of the century.

“There’s a band playing tonight in town,” she said quickly, bouncing slightly in her seat.

Boris slowly set the mug down.

“And?”

Shelly pointed at him again like a detective revealing the final clue in a dramatic courtroom scene.

“And we should go.”

Boris leaned back slightly in his chair, folding his arms.

“I don’t dance.”

Shelly gasped dramatically.

Actually gasped.

She clutched her chest with one hand as if personally offended by this statement.

“You absolutely dance.”

“I stand.”

“That counts.”

“It does not.”

Shelly leaned forward even further, nearly halfway across the table now, pancakes temporarily forgotten.

“You literally taught me how to swing dance.”

“You stepped on my foot.”

“You have big feet.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

Shelly’s grin only widened.

“Details.”

Boris rubbed his temple slowly like he already felt a headache forming.

Shelly stabbed another pancake triumphantly.

“So we’re going.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

They stared at each other across the table.

Shelly’s expression was determined, stubborn excitement radiating from every inch of her posture as she leaned forward like a challenger preparing for battle.

Boris’s expression was tired.

Completely exhausted by the conversation that hadn’t even technically started yet.

His tail wagged once behind him.

Just once.

“I'll think about it.”

Shelly slammed her hands down on the table so hard the silverware rattled.

The coffee mugs trembled.

“YES.”

She jumped up from the chair immediately like someone who had just won a championship.

“I KNEW IT.”

Boris pinched the bridge of his muzzle slowly.

“I said I will think about it.”

Shelly was already halfway across the kitchen.

“IT COUNTS.”

She grabbed her other glove from the counter.

Then froze.

Then looked back at him.

“…Wait.”

Boris looked up.

Shelly pointed toward the door.

“…My boots actually are by the door.”

Boris took another calm sip of coffee.

“Yes.”

Shelly squinted at him suspiciously again.

“…You’re weirdly powerful.”

𓂃 ಄ : . 𐂯

That evening the town square was alive with music.

Warm string lights hung between the old brick buildings, glowing softly against the darkening sky like tiny golden stars.

They swayed slightly in the gentle evening breeze, casting warm pools of light across the square below.

The wooden dance floor in the center of the square was already full of people spinning and laughing, shoes tapping against the boards in quick rhythms that matched the music drifting through the air.

A lively band played on a small wooden stage at the far end of the square. A trumpet rang bright and playful over the steady beat of the drums while a saxophone curled through the melody.

The musicians swayed with the rhythm as they played, clearly enjoying the crowd as much as the crowd enjoyed them.

Couples filled the square.

Some danced confidently with practiced steps.

Some stumbled and laughed through half-learned moves.

Others simply swayed together under the lights.

The whole place buzzed with movement and warmth and noise.

Shelly looked like she might explode from excitement.

Boris, meanwhile, looked like someone who had been dragged somewhere against his will.

Which, technically, he had.

He stood beside her with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, ears angled back just a little as he watched the chaos unfolding in front of him.

His tail gave a slow, uncertain flick behind him.

Shelly grabbed his hand suddenly.

“Come on!”

Boris barely moved.

“I can hear the music from here,” he said calmly, glancing toward the crowded dance floor like it might attack him if he got too close.

“That’s not the point!” Shelly protested immediately, tugging harder on his arm.

Boris planted his feet.

Shelly tugged again.

Then again.

He moved about three inches.

Shelly squinted at him suspiciously.

“…Are you resisting?”

“No.”

“You’re resisting.”

“I’m standing.”

Shelly huffed dramatically and grabbed his wrist with both hands now, leaning backward with all the determination of someone trying to drag a stubborn boulder uphill.

“Come on!”

Boris allowed himself to be pulled forward a few more steps, though the slow pace suggested he was mostly cooperating out of politeness rather than enthusiasm.

They reached the edge of the dance floor just as a couple spun past them laughing, the woman’s dress twirling out in a bright swirl of color.

People moved everywhere.

Quick footwork.

Fast turns.

Laughter everywhere.

The wooden boards thumped softly beneath the dancers' shoes as the music bounced through the square.

Shelly bounced on her toes again, practically glowing with excitement now that they were closer.

“Okay okay okay we’re starting with Shag,” she announced rapidly, pointing toward the floor like a commander giving orders.

“No.”

Shelly turned to stare at him.

“Why not?”

“It’s too fast.” Boris gestured toward the dancers practically sprinting across the floor with lightning quick steps.

“You’re too slow.”

“…Shelly."

“FINE.”

She grabbed both his hands dramatically and yanked him forward another step.

“West Coast Swing.”

Boris sighed deeply.

The kind of sigh that suggested he had already accepted his fate.

Then he stepped forward.

Shelly blinked in surprise.

“…Wait really?” she asked, her grip loosening slightly in shock.

“You wanted to dance,” Boris replied simply.

Her grin stretched from ear to ear.

The music shifted then, the band sliding smoothly into a slower rhythm. The drums softened while the bass line rolled steady and warm beneath the melody.

The crowd adjusted naturally as couples shifted into smoother movements.

Shelly immediately stumbled.

Her foot landed half a beat too early.

Then she burst into laughter.

“I told you I need someone to lead!” she said between giggles, grabbing his shoulder for balance.

“I am,” Boris replied evenly, steadying her with a gentle shift of his arm.

Shelly leaned closer to him, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Oh I noticed.”

Boris ignored that completely.

They moved slowly across the floor.

Boris was stiff at first, his posture careful and controlled as he guided the steps.

Shelly, meanwhile, was enthusiastic.

Extremely enthusiastic.

Which meant she missed about half the steps.

She spun too early once and nearly bumped into another couple.

“Sorry!” she called cheerfully as Boris smoothly redirected her back into place before disaster could strike.

Another time she forgot which foot she was supposed to move and ended up stepping directly onto Boris’s shoe.

“Ah—”

“Shelly.”

“Sorry!” she laughed again, though she didn’t look particularly sorry.

But Boris adjusted easily.

Every time she lost rhythm he simply guided her back into place with a gentle shift of his hand at her waist or a careful tug of her arm.

It was effortless for him.

Like steering a boat through slightly choppy water.

Eventually Shelly stopped focusing on the steps entirely.

Instead she started talking.

“…Did you know fossilized tree sap can preserve insects perfectly?” she asked suddenly, as if they were having this conversation over tea instead of in the middle of a dance floor.

“Yes.”

“…You’re not even surprised anymore."

“No.”

Shelly laughed softly, the sound mixing with the music around them.

A trumpet blared joyfully nearby as another couple spun past them.

They kept dancing.

Step.

Turn.

Shelly nearly forgot the turn again.

Boris gently guided her through it anyway.

“…Also technically it’s called amber,” she continued thoughtfully, swinging back toward him. “Which is basically fossilized resin and—”

“Yes.”

“You’re listening?” she asked suddenly, tilting her head with exaggerated suspicion.

“I always listen.”

Shelly smiled at that.

A real one this time.

The kind that softened her whole expression.

And slowly Boris relaxed.

The stiffness left his shoulders little by little as the music continued.

His tail began moving gently with the rhythm.

Shelly noticed immediately.

Of course she did.

Her eyes narrowed playfully.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“No.”

“You are.”

“No.”

“You are.”

Boris hesitated.

Just slightly.

“…A little bit.”

Shelly smiled warmly.

Then rested her head briefly against his chest as they continued swaying to the music, her hand still loosely clasped in his.

The movement slowed naturally with the next song.

The band softened into something gentler now, the melody slower and warmer as the night settled deeper around the square.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

For once, Shelly wasn’t talking.

For once, Boris wasn’t hiding his small smile.

They simply moved together under the soft glow of the lights, the music carrying them along like the easiest thing in the world.

𓂃 ಄ : . 𐂯

Later they walked home under the quiet night sky.

Crickets chirped steadily from the grass along the roadside.

A soft breeze moved through the trees, rustling the leaves overhead.

The night felt calm.

Peaceful.

Boris walked beside her at his usual steady pace, hands loosely in his pockets.

His tail swayed lazily behind him as he watched her kick the rock again.

It bounced slightly to the side of the path this time.

Shelly chased after it immediately.

Boris glanced down at her boots.

“Did you step in the flowerbed.”

Shelly froze mid-step.

The rock rolled another few inches before stopping.

Slowly—very slowly—she turned her head toward him.

“…Maybe.”

“You did.”

"Maybe.”

She avoided eye contact now, staring very intently at the road like it held the secrets of the universe.

Boris sighed softly, though there was no real frustration in it. Just quiet, familiar resignation.

Shelly bumped her shoulder against his playfully as she resumed walking, grinning like someone who had absolutely no intention of feeling guilty about anything.

“You love me.”

“Yes.”

Shelly froze.

Completely.

Her brain clearly buffering.

She turned slowly toward him, eyes wide.

“…Wait.”

Boris kept walking like nothing had happened, gaze forward, completely calm.

Shelly blinked once.

Then twice.

Then suddenly ran ahead of him, boots crunching lightly against the gravel. She spun around dramatically to face him while walking backwards down the road.

“YOU JUST SAID IT.”

Boris stopped walking.

He looked at her calmly.

“Said what.”

Shelly pointed at him dramatically like she was presenting undeniable courtroom evidence.

“YOU SAID YOU LOVE ME.”

Boris blinked slowly.

“…Did I?”

“Yes!”

She threw both her arms up in the air for emphasis.

“You said it! Out loud! Without me even putting you into a dramatic confession scenario!”

Boris stood there for a moment.

Then realization slowly caught up with him.

His ears lowered just a little.

“Oh.”

Shelly gasped dramatically.

“Oh?? OH??? That’s all you have to say???”

Then she lunged forward and threw her arms around him in an instant, hugging him tightly around the middle.

“YOU SAID IT.”

“Shelly.”

“I WIN.”

“You weren’t competing.”

“I was.”

Boris sighed again, the sound long and patient.

But his tail wagged.

Shelly squeezed him tighter for another second before finally stepping back, though she was still beaming like she had just uncovered the greatest discovery in the history of archaeology.

“You know what I love about us?” she said suddenly, rocking back slightly on her heels.

Boris tilted his head slightly.

“What?”

Shelly gestured between them dramatically like she was presenting a scientific diagram to an audience.

“We make no sense.”

Boris raised one eyebrow.

Shelly immediately started counting on her fingers.

“You’re quiet.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not.”

“No.”

“You fix machines.”

“Yes.”

“I dig holes.”

“Yes.”

“You cook weird food.”

“Yes.”

“I set things on fire sometimes.”

Boris paused.

“…Yes.”

Shelly grinned proudly like she had just proven a brilliant theory, looking up at Boris with love in her eyes.

“And somehow we work.”

Boris looked down at her.

For a moment he didn’t say anything.

The wind rustled softly through the trees nearby.

The glow of a nearby streetlight cast warm light across the quiet road.

Then he gently rested his chin against the top of her head, his arms loosely wrapping around her shoulders as they stood beneath the warm glow of the streetlight.

“We do.”

Shelly leaned comfortably into him, resting easily against his chest like it was the most natural place in the world to be.

They stood like that for a moment.

Two completely different people.

One loud.

One quiet.

One chaotic.

One steady.

And somehow perfectly balanced.

Shelly tilted her head slightly, looking up at him with that familiar spark already returning to her eyes.

“…Hey Boris.”

“Yes.”

“When we get home can we try making that apple cinnamon soup again?”

Boris looked down at her slowly.

“…You said it was illegal.”

Shelly shrugged casually.

“I changed my mind.”

Boris stared at her for a moment.

Then his tail wagged once.

“Okay.”

Shelly’s face lit up instantly.

She grabbed his hand again and immediately started pulling him down the road with renewed energy.

“RACE YOU.”

Boris didn’t move.

Shelly took two steps before realizing.

She turned back.

“Boris.”

“You’re going to trip.”

“I am not—”

Her foot caught on a rock immediately.

Shelly stumbled forward with a startled yelp, arms flailing slightly as she lost her balance.

But before she could fall, Boris caught her easily by the arm, steadying her like he had done a thousand times before.

His grip was firm but gentle.

Shelly blinked up at him sheepishly.

“…Okay maybe.”

Boris steadied her carefully until she was standing properly again.

Then he gently squeezed her hand.

“Come on, let's go home.”

This time they walked the rest of the way back home together.

Slow.

Comfortable.

Their steps naturally falling into the same rhythm as they moved down the quiet road beneath the night sky.

Perfectly balanced.

I know I only post "myth x reader" here, but I also write "oc x canon" and "canon x canon" on the server. If you like these and liked this one, then I'll start posting them here too.

I hope you guys enjoyed it <3

#myth of the machine #motm #myth boris #motm boris #myth shelly #motm shelly #dogbone #pupshell #boris x shelly

#dogbone

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