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the-zapped-part-timer

Dec 4, 2025

PARTY ØF ØNE TWØ

▲— 1+2 = Me & Yøu —▼

Art/Writing Trade with @l0stcliche

Huge credit to @feralwaff1e for helping me <3

(See L0sty's trade) ▪︎¤▪︎ Next Chapter>>>

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

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🎊 You are cordially invited to 🎊

🎊 Larry's Party & Banquet! 🎊

Party goes from 4 pm - 12 am

(don't feel obliged to stay the whole time!)

(not a costume party this time, I promise)

That's what led Rippen to Larry Manor, standing before the grand doors that sealed him off from the party and where he contemplated even knocking. He still had the chance to change his mind, walk away, and go home. How did this little ornate invitation have the power and persuasion to send him all the way to his minion's doorstep? He loathed parties.

Apparently, not enough as he led his hand towards the walnut wooden door. Curling his slim, pointed fingers and knocked his knuckles against the wood, giving it three thumps in rapid succession. Quietly enough so that no one would notice that there even was someone at the door, giving him leeway to shrug it off and act like he made a genuine attempt. Which, to his dismay, he did. Before he could even fully turn around and make it back to his yellow beaten-down car, the towering door swung open.

One of Larry's butlers, the short balding one, the butler's butler in fact, but Rippen couldn't bring himself to care about recalling the man's name. "I presume you're here for Master Larry's party and banquet?" The butler refinedly questioned, raising a fuzzy, thick brow while eyeing the villain's attire.

Rippen peered down at Whatshisface, fixing himself up from his posture and down to smoothing out any wrinkles that his hands could find. He arched his own brow to assert dominance over a man who's not trying to do such a thing. "No, I'm here to deliver a package," he answered, begrudgingly with venomous sarcasm thrown in and a dramatic eye roll, "Of course I'm here for the party."

This stunned the butler, while yes, it was the only possible reason for Mr. Rippen to be opposite of him now. But from what information he's gathered from the villain, this was absolutely baffling. He looked him up and down one last time to check that it was indeed the same coworker of his employer before stepping aside, opening the door wider as he did so.

"It is a pleasure to invite you to Master Larry's-"

"Yes, yes, that's nice and all." Rippen rudely interrupted So-and-so, making his way through the threshold, dragging his feet down the hall and into what he presumes, is the foyer. He didn't know the proper terminology for this funhouse of a manor. The room alone would give anyone with altocelarophobia a fainting spell.

Next on Larry's hit list were convivophobics as the typical, vibrant embellishments for such parties decorated the expansive room. Streamers hanging from the crystalline chandeliers, tables with gift baskets sprawled across them alongside some finger foods. Topping it off with a comically large chocolate fondue fountain, which explained most of the odd choices for finger foods such as the plain marshmallows. And balloons, so many damn balloons, bunches of them huddled together tightly.

As he scanned around the festive scene, noticing to his left that the Little Piece of Larry gift shop was closed. Completely dark and half of the merchandise packed away in boxes, clearly Larry didn't sell out or anything, even with the constant sales and markdowns he was having.

The more peculiar thing about this whole party thing that didn't quite click in Rippen's head was how empty it was. Void of any other life yet not completely empty of colorful clutter, quiet yet not completely silent due to the sound of jazz music playing on a lower volume. He was the only person, besides the butler, who was still here. Perhaps the other party-goers migrated to other parts of the manor? If so, does he dare venture from the welcomed peace and investigate?

“Master Larry is currently in the kitchen if you need him.” And then he was gone like a ghost, presumably running off to find comfort in the taller butler's shadow, wherever she was.

Leaving Rippen on his own as he made the difficult decision, he let out a jaded sigh and trudged his way to find the host. As he dragged his feet towards the tracks of the godforsaken roller-coaster, he paused before it, looking both ways so as not to get run over by the ride from hell. With his scanning for it coming to the census that he wasn't in any immediate danger, he hopped right over it. Well, more like he got his foot caught in the tracks as he did so and fell straight on his face. How typical. At least he had the fortune of no one seeing his little mishap.

As was his state of his principles, he pulled himself together and got back up, whether the idea of staying on the floor and not speaking to Larry was more appealing to his mood. He brushed off any dirt or dust, which there shouldn't be due to the existence of those butlers, and smoothed out any creases or wrinkles that his spill may have caused.

While adjusting his tie, his eyes wandered over to the misplaced fireplace. What was even the point of it? Outside of granting warmth, the tracks obstructed any chance of placing any furniture in front of it to even bask in its heat. And don't get Rippen started on the mismatched wood used for the design, white for the base and a lighter brown for the mantle, what an eyesore. Not unlike the silly hats that littered the mantle—oh, hold on. Those silly hats, they were gone? He stared at the bare mantle for a moment too long for his liking before forcibly tearing his attention away from it. Such a trivial thing shouldn't be so… noticeable to him. It was a miracle that he even remembered those hats in the first place.

He finally made his way out of the foy-whatever and was bombarded by sudden smells of sweet delicacies, smacking him in the face with overpowering temptation. He hates to ever admit it, but he's always had such a nasty habit of indulging in his sweet tooth, especially anything consisting of dark chocolate. Bitter and intense, just like Rippen.

The smells clue him in onto where the kitchen was, following it with his strong sense of smell, stronger compared to humans, and found himself in the kitchen's doorway. Staring in awe of the luxurious space. He shouldn't be surprised by the grandeur that Larry could afford, yet he was. That wasn't the only surprising sight he came across. Besides the spread of baked goods and savory meals that took up space upon many countertops, the sight that caught him most off-guard was the wild state of the lone chef, Larry.

Rippen raised a brow, “Larry?” He tentatively entered the kitchen and slowly approached his minion.

This snapped Larry out of some sort of self-imposed trance, making him whirl around on his stepping stool. His expression at first was dazed, which quickly altered to a wide albeit sheepish smile. “R-Rippen!” He sputtered, adjusting his specs, “I didn't think you'd come!”

“Well don't get too excit—” Rippen was barely able to get a full sentence out as Larry hopped off his stool and wrapped his surprisingly strong arms around the villain's snatched waist. Squeezing the ever-loving life out of him.

His spine was burdened by the pure, unrestrained power that Larry possessed. He was fairly certain that he could hear it snapping. His lungs felt as though they collapsed from all the air being forcibly expelled out of his body. He couldn't resist, couldn't put up a fighting chance, his arms were fastened down against his sides, entrapped by the shorter man. His struggle went unnoticed for a few more moments until Larry unburied his face from Rippen's stomach and brought his attention up to his friend's uncomfortable expression.

“Oh!” Larry instantly released Rippen from his Kodiak bear hug, taking a step back to give him some breathing room. That nervous smile of his continued to tighten at the corners of his mouth, “Sorry, I'm just so so sooooo happy you came!”

“Of course you are.” The grump of a villain rolled his eyes and took a gander over at one of multiple exits out of the kitchen, taking note of the lack of chattering that guests would typically make. Must have really scattered all over the place, or there was the possibility that many have gotten lost in such a labyrinth of a home. “So, where are the others?”

“It's just you and me.”

“Am I early?” Rippen didn’t know why, but something about that answer nagged at him, in the back of his brain. Shouldn’t there be more people? Surely, more than just him would have arrived at one of Larry’s little parties.

“Nope, right on time.” Larry was too chirped in his reply, and Rippen felt something stir in himself as he watched the shorter man, his minion, continue to walk around slaving away in the kitchen. Didn’t he have butlers for this sort of thing? So Larry wouldn’t have to cook? To have time and mingle with his guests? Then again, what would be the point in that if no one showed up?

Rippen was silent in watching Larry, the smaller man looking a little concerned that he was being so quiet, while Rippen was usually the quieter of the two he was never like this. So wrapped up in his own thoughts, he didn’t even think about how Larry was feeling. Then again, why should he care about how Larry felt about him being quiet? In the end, it didn’t really matter, so he just continued with a question that was nagging in the back of his head, “I'm the only one that came?”

“Yup!” Larry was fidgeting with his hands a little, betraying the chipper ‘yup’ he just spouted, “Which is fine! It can be a me and you banquet! Oh won’t that be fun?! I can call Fredricks, or Matthews, or even Pigeons in and we can start playing games! Tony can’t join us because he’s currently getting pampered at this exotic animal spa. Did you know those are a thing? I didn’t but Tony seems to like it there, so I let him go and—”

“Larry!” Rippen snapped, looking down at the shorter man, “The banquet? Why would I be the only one to show up?”

At first, quiet contemplation, then, “Because, you just are!” That was Larry's genuine answer, or as genuine as he pretended it to be, with that faintly weary beaming he flashed. Might as well give up there and take it at face value. Honestly, why would Rippen search for deeper meaning into someone he deems as deep as a kiddie pool. No matter how pestered he was by that nagging feeling.

“So? Games?” Larry eagerly asked, probably already having a long list of games he could prattle on about lined up in his mind.

Rippen sighed at the notion, “Must we?” Party games weren't exactly his forte. He didn't even plan on staying around long enough for such activities. He was supposed to dip after an hour or until his nerves were burnt to a crisp, but seeing as no one else came, that plan was a bust.

“No, not at all! That's cool, we can, umm- what do you want to do instead, huh, big shot? You're the Guest of Honor anyhow!”

That little title Larry just dropped on him made him do a double take. Was that how it really worked? Rippen really wouldn't know. He's never been given such a distinguished role in a party. He could be an ass and straight up leave this admittedly awkward situation, but this untold power he was given, he could do so much more.

He pondered for a moment before asking, “Do you serve… alcohol at this party?”

To his surprise, Larry smirked and curled a finger, an obvious invitation to follow him, Rippen only cocked an eyebrow at this new side of Larry. It was something he seldom saw on his minion, this air of confidence, “Come on! You, Mr. Rippen, are in for a treat! I have my own personal bar.”

Rippen shook his head in a slight surprise as he followed Larry out the kitchen and down a hall, and there, to his shock, was Larry’s own personal, small, yet eloquent bar. There were leather seats near the bar and even some ash trays, Rippen couldn’t help but wonder if Larry had some cigars in here as well. It was basically an old timey cigar lounge at this point.

“Come sit down, Mr. Rippen!” Larry grinned as he walked behind the bar, motioning to Rippen to sit at one of the bar stools, “What’s your poison, big guy? Scotch? A martini? Tequila?”

“Whiskey?” The villain was craving the particular bitter, smokey flavoring and the burning sensation that followed with it, hoping the sting that the alcohol granted would take the edge off of the situation he put himself in.

“Just straight whiskey or we talking about something like a Hot Toddy, an Old Fashioned, Whiskey Sour or maybe a Man—”

Rippen narrowed his eyes while raising his brow, “Sour whiskey?” His assumption of the drink involved dumping the same sugary, sour powder some hooligan students back in that hellscape of a school dared each other to consume.

“Yeah! Never tried it?” Larry was somehow surprised, like he typically was when Rippen revealed any nugget of information about himself.

“Can't say I have.” Which was obvious with the confusion he showed at the name alone. His minion wasn't exactly known for those kinds of cues.

Larry leaned against the bar, playfully raising a brow and asking, “Do you wanna give it a try?”

Rippen shrugged apathetically, “Sure, why the hell not?”

Enthusiastic as ever, or as much as he could with such a lower turnout. Larry shot up a pair of finger guns in Rippen's direction and gave a wink, “You got it.” He put his bartending skills to work as he pulled out everything he needed, inexplicably already having the more out-there ingredients, the one that caught Rippen's confusion was the egg white the drink called for.

He watched as Larry measured with his silvery jigger, first the bourbon, then lemon juice, a syrup, and there goes the egg white. Pouring it all into the shaker, he sealed the top and gave it the most vigorous dry-shake Rippen had witnessed in years. His minion snapped out of his cocktail concentration long enough to give Rippen a big old grin.

After those few violent seconds, he popped in some ice before sealing it again and adding a few more shakes until it was up to well-chilled snuff. Fitting a strainer over the top, he poured the cocktail into two coupe glasses. Topping it off with a few drops of something that read ‘Angostura bitters’ across the bottle and garnishes to pull off the look all together was speared orange peels with maraschino cherries right in the middle.

“One Whiskey Sour for the fine gentleman.” Larry carefully moved the glass closer to his Guest of Honor with a prideful expression donned upon his face.

Rippen scanned over his drink, looking over the vibrancy of it all, and listed off every ingredient he saw Larry dumped into it off the top of his head. It's one of many reasons he doesn't go to any public bars. If he can't see what's going on, he'll assume that he has a fifty percent chance of being poisoned or drugged. He learned that lesson the hard way many times. But this was Larry who made it—actually, that didn't change Rippen's mind. His minion was prone to unintentional harm that typically ended up with the villain bearing the brunt of it.

Larry noticed his hesitation, so to make Rippen more at ease, he took the first swig of his drink to show that he didn't screw it up. It's not like Rippen would instantly be able to tell if it was wrong or not. Larry smacked his lips and let out an unwinding sigh, “That really hits the spot.” He mused, looking over at Rippen, hoping that'd egg him on.

Letting one last beat of quiet observation pass by, Rippen took the risk and brought the glass up to his lips, taking a sizable sip to not take in too much but enough to get all the flavor needed. He wasn't used to such a sweet, tarty concoction of a drink, yet he wasn't completely opposed to taste. The refreshing quality was quite welcomed and surprisingly not as sour as he thought it turned out to be.

As the warmth of the bourbon crawled down his throat with that delicious hint of bitterness he craved, his apparent enjoyment of the cocktail was an obvious observation to Larry. The tell was Rippen's pointed ears wiggling about. “Pretty good, huh?” Larry asked, setting an arm against the bar and resting his head upon his hand, lovingly watching Rippen enjoy himself.

“Surprisingly, yes.” Rippen answered, taking another gulp, clearly that he was greatly enjoying the taste and its luxurious mouthfeel.

“Let me know if you want to expand your palate a little more, I'll fix you up anything!”

Both men could tell that Rippen really didn't have an expansive palate when it came to the world of alcohol that wasn't just wine. He'd also usually stick to anything straight. So this was a chance to get a little more fast and loose with trying out new things to get out of his comfort zone. And Larry was happy to oblige.

While enjoying their drinks, Larry slipped a book over to his guest, “Here, take a peek and let me know if anything else catches your eye.” He offered, giving a twinkly wink as he went back to sipping his cocktail.

Which, Rippen did. He perused the mixology's pages and didn't make it far when something called an Appletini got his taste buds curious. As his sights lingered on the page, Larry was already preparing for the cocktail, chugging the rest of his drink before going all in.

And that's what they did for the next few hours, drink after drink, loosen up, and idly chit-chatting about whatever popped in their slowly inebriating brains. To the point of ditching the book and getting experimental themselves, which lead to either the best cocktail ever invented or something so abominable, that garnishing it with poison would be an improvement.

One after another, after another, after many anothers, they eventually settled with drinking wine straight from the bottle. Sharing and passing it back and forth to each other. With their rationality thoroughly lowered by all the booze, a thought fizzled into Rippen's mind, “‘Ey, whut else is all tucked away ‘ere?”

“Wanna take a ride and find out?” Larry cheekily questioned.

Rippen immediately flopped his head up, down and around in agreement, Larry ran with it and crawled over the bar to snatch his hand and lead the way to their ride. Their ride being the very same godforsaken roller-coaster that gave Rippen whiplash and nausea the last time. As they approached the orange-red gradient vomit comet, he dug his heels into the rug, attempting to halt Larry’s pursuit.

Larry noticed the sudden difficulty in leading his friend and looked back up at him, “Wassup?

Even through the fuddle of wine and various other cocktails, he knew this would end extremely badly. All the probabilities that played out in mind of the many ways he could be put at risk. Ranging from whiplash again to flying off the ride, plummeting to the ground, and either snapping his neck or spine. But all he could convey was, “Nah-uh, too fast.”

Larry had a simple solution, “I'll put it on tour guide speed.”

Apparently, that was enough to calm Rippen's nerves enough to climb inside the car behind the locomotive-esque lead car as Larry went over to the out of sight control panel. Before Rippen was even buckled after the struggle of finding the seat belt, Larry was already sitting right up against him. Both strapped down as the train sputtered to life and began rolling along the tracks, passing by the fireplace at a comfortable pace.

While the pace did make some aspects of the ride a bit tedious, it wasn't an outright dreadful excursion. It was amusing to see Larry’s eyes light up at things and areas he already knew about, since it was his home, it was always like a fun little surprise for him. His talking points fluctuated from fond memories to all the ideas he had when buying the place, what he kept, what he changed, and how much he learned about the intricacies of construction work.

Rippen was only half-listening to Larry, listing off all the animals in his safari park when that previously easygoing speed started to ramp up to a familiar, breakneck, nauseating acceleration.

The cause for their panicked screams? And accidental flip of the switch by Fredricks hand, well, his feather duster. Not knowing of his Master's spontaneous touring of the manor and wasn't at all alarmed when his duster first turned up the speed. Only after a passing moment of examination, the cries for help, from very faraway, that he jumped into action and slammed the kill switch. Hoping neither Matthews nor Pigeons noticed his blunder.

Luckily for the men, they stopped right in the bathroom.

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Following their wild, drunken escapades involving that hell on wheels, petting and feeding various animals that made Rippen question the legality of Larry's ownership of them. Rounds of skee-ball in the arcade, almost waltzing into the snake and bat room and putzing around in Little Piece of Larry. The two scrounged around, sitting and opening up boxes, playing around with anything fun they could find with plates of Larry's baked goodies by their sides.

Once feeling like everything was functioning at a hundred miles per second, as if they were still on the coaster, the world around them crawled to a snail's pace. Smooth jazz still remains as the only sound to fill the nearly empty manor. The two men found themselves lounging about on a couch side by side next to a cozy fireplace, notably distinct from the one in the foyer.

“Why does dis one have couches an’ such but the other one doesn'? Why have tracks in front of it or place the firelace there… whichever came first.” Rippen was feeling awfully chatty, clearly still stuck on that fireplace.

“Because,” Larry shifted in his spot, bringing his pointer finger up to his nose and gave it two taps, “The other is a secret one.”

Rippen lazily cocked his head, “Secret? Y'mean, like, it has a secret and isn't the secret in itself? Because if it's the latter, it's dreadfully lackin’ in the whole ‘being a secret” shebang.”

Instead of answering the question, his minion giggled to himself, “I don't think I ever heard you say the word shebang before.”

Rippen only rolled his eyes, smirking somewhat because the alcohol was still in his body, but he was still curious. “Well?”

“The latter—no wait! Former!” Larry yelled out, leaning into Rippen’s side while still giggling his little head off, just enjoying the presence of the other man. Rippen really had no idea how much it meant to him that he actually came.

“Treasure?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Larry winked, missing the mischievous look Rippen had in his eye as the man lowered himself down so he and Larry were face to face, Larry looking a little confused as Rippen only smirked.

“Is that where all yer hats went?” Rippen asked him, a purr deep in his throat. He didn’t know why, but he had to know where those hats went.

Larry was only confused in response, “My hats?”

“Yea, weren't there hats on the,” Rippen made a gesture with his hand, swirling it in the air, “The firebaloo's mantle thingy? Back when you drug me an’ those idiotic heroes to look for the elephant? But they’re not.”

“... You noticed?” Larry felt his eyes widen at that, Rippen cared enough to notice something like that? Something so asinine, that Larry wasn’t even sure his own butler noticed or her co-butler’s butler! That was something that made a very warm feeling spread out through Larry that he was certain it wasn’t the alcoholic drinks they’ve been downing for the past few hours.

“Yeah? I don't know why, but I did." Rippen blinked lazily. He truly didn’t know why he noticed it, but he did. Rippen couldn’t help it. Just as the alcohol was making him mischievous, it was making him uncharacteristicly cuddly as well. His arm wrapped around Larry’s side, a purr bubbling up in his throat. “You really like hats.”

Larry only spread a soft smile on his face, “I do...”

Rippen purred loudly, not even caring that Larry was running his hands through his hair. It felt nice. He even felt his eyes start to shut, Larry’s magical fingers bringing him to some relaxed state. Rippen even had to fight the urge to rub up against Larry, to scent him, claim him as his. Yet alas, most good things must come to some kind of end.

“Rippen…” Larry started, his fingers slowing their motion in Rippen’s hair, a crime, truly, “Do you think if someone had to write me, would they like writing me?”

“Hwut?” Rippen blinked, pulling himself up, still hovering over Larry. Not only had he stopped petting his hair, but because of the question itself. Larry had some kind of look, something Rippen had never seen before on the man. He looked depressed.

“Like, would they like writing me or hate me becuz I talk so much?” Larry sniffled, tears prickling at the edge of his eyes.

Ripped against his better judgment, gently wiped away one of the stray tears, “Why does this matter?” He wasn’t even sure why he asked in the first place. It wasn’t like he actually cared for the answer, right?

“Becuz!”

“Because, because, because with you, that's the buzzword of the day, huh?” Rippen cupped the shorter man’s face in his hand, making Larry look up at him. It wasn’t often Larry was some kind of puzzle Rippen wanted to figure out, but today it seemed like Larry was, “Why's this matter so much to you?”

“... I dunno… maybe becuz I want answers? Like, would they hate me? Like everyone else?” At this point, Larry felt like the room was caving in on him. It was like he couldn’t breathe. The only thing that was tethering him to this plane of existence was the hunk of green muscle sitting next to him. Larry didn’t know if Rippen knew it, but the man was a great thing to squeeze when you were nervous.

Rippen, who definitely noticed Larry squeezing his arm, also noticed the wording of his spiral, “Everyone… else.” Rippen blinked, looking down at Larry. Surely the man didn’t really think that, “You think everyone hates you?”

Larry didn’t even let go of his arm, let alone even look at Rippen. Though Rippen could still tell the shorter man was clearly distressed. He didn’t know why but in a way that bothered Rippen. “I tried to make it more approachbabble! More adult and sophist-o-cated! And still… nobody came.”

“Look,” Rippen, tired of Larry’s self-deprecation, took the soft, round face of Larry's in his hands, squishing it, making him look him in the eye. “It doesn't matter whut you do if no one is going to come over an’ see it.” Rippen let go of the other man’s face, Larry rubbing his cheek a little “So, might as well do what you want to do, at your own party.”

Silence.

“Whut does Mr. Larry… whatever your surname is, wanna do?” Rippen asked, a little unnerved by Larry’s lack of response. He just needed him to say something, anything, Rippen didn’t know why, but he needed to make Larry feel a little bit better. Even if it meant giving up his ‘Guest of Honor’ privileges.

With a slightly defeated, mostly tired sigh, Larry's voice broke through like the crack of a mirror, “... can we just keep sitting here... together?” Those eyes, gods, those big brown eyes flicked back up to Rippen’s own rubied ones.

“You're the boss.” Rippen assured him, asserting the notion with a nod.

“Huh, I forgot that I am your boss at school-”

“No! no school talk!”

“Can we talk about your tie then?”

“Meh tie?”

“Yeahhh.”

“Like whut?”

“Like how I can do this~”

Just as suddenly as Larry posed the question, Rippen found the shorter man on top of him, well, on his lap at least. The unexpected weight placed on him was... actually quite welcoming, was that the feeling? Welcoming? Like Larry was perfectly sculpted to fit right on that precise spot, like he belonged there, like he belonged with him. He couldn't focus on what Larry was initially doing, only on him. He didn't even realize how heavy his chest felt and how the air filling his lungs felt stuffy. Yet, not in a particularly bad way, just an overwhelming way. His ears pinched back like he was gazing up at a bright, heavenly light.

“Y'know, I like how your ears move around.”

His voice was like velvet running through Rippen's ears, smooth, soft, and sultry. Intentional or not, the spell that Larry was casting upon him was a powerful one, powerful enough to tune out whatever he was saying at that moment. The villain was splendidly stupefied.

Larry, on the other hand? While seeming like he's gained the upper hand and was wrapping the wicked wonder of a man around his finger, was just as enamored, if not more! Actually, it was much more. Such tenderhearted fondness has been there since the dawning of their partnership. Was it foolish? Perhaps. The entirety a fruitless endeavor? Not at all, never. There were the sunny patches in their shared timeline, and of course, there were murky blotches, too. Never a bad thing, after all, balance is the most important thing to remember in life.

While Larry always thought of the brighter parts, Rippen could only sulk in the murky ones. Until this very moment where the heavy rain clouds that seemingly followed his every step, the sun's radiant beams pierced through the wet, shadowy veil. Granting him the opportunity to truly look upon his minion and see… Larry. It was like an epiphany, one that withheld such great weight upon his shoulders, or his lap in this case, as if he were Atlas himself. Burdening himself with such greater emotions that he must confess, or else that very load will crush his soul.

What he mumbled out was, “Wow… you're sooo good at tying.” That's all he could muster. He was still intoxicated after all. They both were, extremely so as a matter of fact.

An eruption of giggles flew past Larry’s lips, “Thaaaanks, I've had lots and lots of practice with all kinds of ties, like regular ties, bow ties, bolos, clip-ons, ascots-”

Due to their drunken and smitten state, neither were aware that Larry was not even properly tying the dang tie. He was simply doing the same motion over and over. He was halfway through the process, but thanks to those rosey red eyes, he couldn't focus long enough to take the next step.

As Larry continued to list off types of ties and, soon, nautical knots, Rippen eyes began to trail down from Larry’s line of sight to his chest. Seeing the man's once perfectly neat bow tie be reduced to nothing but undone fabric draped around his neck. But what really caught his attention was the top few buttons, Larry must have loosened them at some point because he got more than just a little peak of his skin. No, he got to see so much more than that. He was, honestly, quite taken aback to see chest hair of all things for some reason. Possibly because he's never thought about Larry’s body all that much, but now? Now, his imagination was running wild.

His sense of curiosity was so overwhelming that his once dormant little friend decided to make its presence known. His tail slipped out from his body, slithered its way over Larry's pants, and wiggled under his shirt, making it up a few inches until Larry finally took notice. Making him trail off with his rambling until he fell silent, taking note of the feeling of the tail coil around his waist, gently squeezing him.

That reaction made Rippen's heart sink deep into the pit of his stomach, its acids breaking it down until there was nothing left but indigestion. He wanted to have his tail retreat back into him, but he only froze in place like rigid ice underneath the other man. So, instead, he tried to downplay this shameful fiasco in any possible way he could. Leading him to utter a phrase he never thought would spill out from his lips, “Keep talking…”

Silence again.

“I think an Eldredge knot would look nice on you… maybe, someday I could teach you how to do it…”

“Ya?”

“You'll never know when you'll need it.”

He had no clue what an Eldredge knot even was, but he'll take Larry up on that offer if he remembers. And as per Rippen's request, Larry continued on and on about a different subject, what it was, Rippen couldn't concentrate on his words long enough to decipher the topic. He kept testing the water between them and had his tail slither around, just beneath a layer of fabric.

At some point, the tip of his tail reached an exit and crept its way out of the unbuttoned neckline. The sensation tickled at Larry’s skin, causing him to let loose a few giggles. He was taking this way better than Rippen ever expected, while yes, Larry is a very peculiar little man, the villain still waiting for the point that Larry’s comfort in the situation would be crossed and Rippen would be told to go home. Yet, it didn't happen, no freakouts, no disgust, nothing. Only a gentle hand tenderly took hold at the base of his tip and slowly pulled it out as far as he could until he was thoroughly squeezed by the coil encircling him.

He lingered with his time by simply staring- no, observing it, then from the tip of his tail to half the length that slipped out of the shirt, he took his thumb and forefinger and traced them all the way down and then backtracked. Back and forth, back and forth, he went, all the while with a soft smile and a loving gaze aimed towards it.

Rippen was stunned, absolutely flabbergasted, but in a good way. In a deeply flustered way. He dug his ombre claws deep into the couch. He felt himself sink along with them as he stared in awe of Larry, taking in the enchantment of his magical fingers. At the same time, Larry was taking in something he rarely gained from many: trust.

Trusting him with his tail, a part of him, trusting him with his safety with all their drunken escapades, trusting him enough to be completely vulnerable with him. God, he wanted to reward Rippen for everything, for coming over and letting loose, just.. being here with him when he needed him most.

And he thought up the perfect reward, one he knew he should reject and shove it back down, way down, back into his heart and slam it shut like an ironclad locket. But he couldn't. He couldn't hold back any longer. All he could do was minimize it. He brought the tip to his lips and pressed it against them, just a little peck. Feeling the faint softness of peach fuzz that scattered about the tail.

Rippen floored- no, not even that, he was six feet under the manor. He felt weightless and, like an anvil had dropped straight onto his head. He must be unconscious. He must be dreaming! But he wasn't, and he had been kissed. Even though it wasn't on the lips, it felt practically the same to him in that very moment, like he was kissing Larry himself… he wanted to kiss Larry.

That ‘little peck’ went on for much longer than intended. After he finally did finish, he fluttered his eyes open to see Rippen was inches away from his face. Those big red irises were blown back by those oh so wide pupils, like a cat high on nip. He stayed there, ears lowered with a frozen expression that was, at first, hard to interpret. The only clue that Larry received to break the case, those wide eyes bore into his soul and for a split second, flicked down to his lips, then back up to his gaze.

A playful smile worked its way across Larry's face as he smooched the tip again, and again, and again, and again, and again. Driving Rippen up a wall with all his teasing, his tail attempted to flick and wiggle out of Larry's grasp to no avail. The mini makeout sesh carried on until Rippen couldn't bear to sit and watch anymore, he snatched Larry and his tail, a twinge of something that appeared to be either envy or impatience, and lowered them down. Leaving only Rippen and Larry gazing at each other silently.

Until they couldn't contain themselves any longer.

They shared a kiss.

At first, soft and sweet, then it twisted into passion and hunger. It would give anyone Peeping Tom tonal whiplash. While there weren't any such people, there were the three loyal butlers, who in awkward timing, took a peak into the room the two currently reside in and the scene that unfolded between them gave them that such whiplash. They left with great haste, not wanting to disturb Master Larry and his coworker- lover? They didn't know at that point. It didn't matter.

It was utterly freeing. Every burden that rested upon them vanished as the only thing that mattered was each other. Not the party, nor the no-shows, not appearances—nothing but this moment!

And rest, lots and lots of rest. Something they'll soon receive after their long, long, long and exhaustive alone time. They kept going at it, mashing their lips together until they bruised, ran their hands all over each other until their hands cramped, and rolled around on the couch until they finally settled. Larry lying on top of Rippen, curling with him like a tuna-satisfied cat, which is oddly ironic considering the other had more cat-like traits and qualities than Larry did. Rippen's tail still wrapped around the rounder man, snuggly hugging all around his body like the world's fleshiest yet comfiest rope.

They slept that way until morning, the sun being what woke them up as it began to raise and shine its rays through the window nearest to them. Due to their positioning, Rippen's face was first to be hit by the sun's rays, causing his eyes to roll around behind his closed eyelids. After a moment passed, he pried his eyes open to see what the deal was, only to be temporarily blinded. He let out a drawn-out, drowsy groan in retaliation, which stirred Larry awake.

“Heyyy, Drowsy Bear, sleep good?” Larry asked, bringing a hand to Rippen's face, gingerly stroking his fluffy mutton chop.

“Slept like it was my first ever birthday.” He purred in response, hoping to get across that last night was nothing short of marvelous.

That made Larry chuckle, “Good to hear.” His friend- his friend? Surely, they were a little something more than that now. “I'm glad we both had awesome birthdays.” He scooted up a little to be able to snuggle into the crook of Rippen's neck.

“Yeah- hold on a tic.” Rippen's brain was working overtime in that moment, toiling through the oncoming hangover and had the realization smack him like a baseball bat to the dome. “Birthdays… plural?” He peered down at Larry while he lightly interrogated him. Larry only nodded, like what he said held no substantial meaning.

Rippen could throw himself into a whirlwind of questions. Why would Larry not plaster that important little factoid on his invitation? Why keep it a secret, especially from Rippen? Was Rippen supposed to know that already? But, he was far too tired, and if he looked like an ass for not knowing it was his coworker's birthday, then that was completely fair. Besides, it's not like Rippen didn't care to be viewed as such. But that did, of all things, saddened the villain. While he always wanted to get such a day past him, this was Larry. No explanation needed for why he of all people would love his day.

And yet, he felt the need to water the party down, water himself down, just to be more palatable to an audience who didn't want his authentic self in the first place. But not with Rippen. He didn't need to do that with him. Not ever.

He took his broad arms and hugged his cuddly bedfellow, giving him a hearty, tender squeeze. “... Happy birthday, Larry.”

“Thank you, Rippen.”

A thought seeped into Rippen's mind, one he'd never thought for anyone else, not even himself.

I'll gift him a hat.

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#Art Trade #PZPTH #Penn Zero: Part-Time Hero #El Writes #Fanfic #1+2 = Me & You #Party of (one) Two #Larrip #1+2 #Larry x Rippen #Rippen x Larry #Principal Larry #Larry #Larry PZPTH #Rippen Ghhbrhhhrnnen #Rippen #Rippen PZPTH #Long Post #Middleburg #Larry Manor #tw alcohol #Seriously Waffle thank you soooooo much for helping me through my slump #“Next chapter” as in next for the 1+2 collection (not a direct continuation)#Doesn't mean that can't happen ;]