‘Handsome Squidward’ actually made his television debut in a 1982 #DoctorWho serial. - #xeraphin #TimeFlight #Spongebob #FifthDoctor #memes #mademelaugh https://www.instagram.com/p/CCtgNIvHYmG/?igshid=kvo9dcs7ys57
a birthday gift for the wonderful trash king xera-phin / xeramyun !! heres like ~1600 words of our ocs being disgusting domestic trash, hap birth friend
fandom: the garbage dumpster where we all belong filled with trash ocs characters: phin, mey, teensy tinesy mentions of nelda and salem the asshole cat
pairings: phin/mey implied because i have a smol shipper heart
words: many. 1594 many
warnings: contains a lot of food, one tiny mention of violence and blood (but theres no actual violence/blood), general mentions of mey being a fae asshole but hey what else is new
summary: "This is not my beautiful flat," Phin says after a few more moments, picking out their favourite mug - the one with at least twenty cats on them, covered in an almost illegal amount of glitter - and turning the coffee machine on. "This is not my beautiful spouse."
[also on AO3]
Phin wakes up to the smell of homemade bread, and for once, not the sound of Salem knocking something to the floor or their flatmates attempting to fight to the death over storage space. It sets them on edge immediately, and they struggle to sit up and rub the sleep from their eyes.
The alternative to complete chaos is one of their roommates finally having killed the other, and Phin isn’t sure they want to deal with that before sunrise. Still, they force themself up and out of the soft blankets, keeping one wrapped around their shoulders and setting off towards the living room.
They’d expected… a lot of different things. Tiny bits of cat scattered across the room. Nelda bleeding out on the floor. Mey bleeding out on the floor. Some kind of bodily fluid ruining their nice hardwood floors and colourful rugs.
What Phin doesn’t expect is Mey wearing an apron and humming along to the old secondhand radio on top of the fridge, moving about the kitchen without looking for some kind of possible murder weapon or trying to hide something illegal in a cupboard.
And yet, it’s right there in front of them, complete with Mey pulling on oven mitts to get the bread out of the oven and put it down on the counter. It’s the perfect image of a disgustingly domestic suburban parent.
Or it would be if Mey wasn’t wearing an apron that says ‘kiss the cook’. Especially if it wasn’t an apron that said ‘kiss the cock’ with a giant arrow pointing downwards until Phin managed to edit it with a permanent marker.
They walk towards the kitchen sleepily, figuring it’s safe enough. Mey doesn’t cook often - they mostly live off takeaway food and cheap instant meals - so these kinds of breakfasts are rare, and they’re going to take full advantage of it. Especially if Nelda is still asleep, since no one is going for someone else’s throat. Yet.
Mey notices Phin enter, but doesn’t bother to do much more than stop humming along to the music, fishing their only bread knife out of the cutlery drawer and getting to work on cutting the warm bread.
Phin yawns and leans against the counter, watching the sharp bread knife reflect the barest hints of the sunrise and cut even slices with almost worrying precision. "This is not my beautiful flat," they say after a few more moments, picking out their favourite mug - the one with at least twenty cats on them, covered in an almost illegal amount of glitter - and turning the coffee machine on. "This is not my beautiful spouse."
"Ha-ha. If I was your spouse, this living arrangement would work very differently." Mey pops two slices of bread into the toaster, and takes a bite out of a third one. "I wouldn't be paying rent, for starters."
"You'd still be wearing my clothes and getting up at who knows how early to make fresh bread, though," Phin points out, stealing one of the bread slices and ignoring Mey's offended noises. "And covering my rooftop with your creepy magical flowers. So there's not a lot of change there."
“My flowers are charming,” Mey counters with a small huff, pulling two plates out of the cupboards before finally turning around to face them with their good eye and an almost genuine smile. “Why, are you proposing to me?”
“Nnnnnnnnnnah.” Phin opens the fridge and pulls out a screwdriver with a frown, tossing it onto the dining table. After a bit of a search, they manage to find the butter, handing it to Mey and closing the fridge with their hip. “Unless you’re going to pay for the ceremonies and the legal things.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Mey gives a shrug and turns back to the counter, loading the plates up with eggs and bacon and waiting for the toast to be ready. “Hey, do we still have orange juice? Go pour me a glass.”
“Wow.” Phin gasps in mock-offense, grabbing their coffee mug and allowing it to warm the solid light of their hand. “I kind of have my hand full, here. ‘sides, I just closed the fridge. Why don’t you do it yourself?”
“Because, Phin deerest, I have been awake since two in the morning making sure you have a half-decent breakfast before you spend the entire morning tinkering away in your shop and Nelda fucks off to gods only know where, leaving me with that demon of a cat.” Mey huffs again, a soft exhale of air to announce their obvious displeasure, but they open the fridge to find the juice themself anyway. It’s a bit of a struggle to find a clean glass, but they manage before the toast is done, closing the the fridge.
“So,” Phin starts, knocking back about half of their coffee with a single gulp. And a slightly burnt tongue. “Any plans for today, or are you gonna nap and sulk on the rooftop all day?”
Mey raises a brow, taking a sip of their juice before shrugging and staring out the window. The sky is slowly getting lighter, deep oranges and reds spilling over rooftops and through empty streets. They can’t see the stars from here, but they haven’t seen the full night sky in years - not since moving to the city. Too close to the center, something to do with the pollution in the sky and the way the humans are killing the world.
They miss the forest, sometimes. Well, no, not quite - they miss the freedom of the forest, of running through the small open spaces and stalking through the underbrush. Deer legs and hooves instead of human legs and bunny slippers. Grass and moss and dirt instead of hardwood floors.
“Mey,” Phin says, throwing a dish towel at their head to grab their attention. “Mey, you okay?”
“Wh- of course I’m okay,” they say with an easy shrug, catching the dish towel and dropping it to the floor, glaring at the toaster when it turns out it’s still not done. “I’m just considering what I should do today. And that we really need a new toaster.”
“Mhmm,” Phin replies with a small shrug, finishing their coffee and putting the mug down in the sink. “I could have a look at it later, but I don’t think there’s much to save. It was what, secondhand? thirdhand?”
“Nelda found it in the trash,” Mey reminds them, finally giving up and taking the toast out to butter it. “And then we cleaned it and you spent two days fixing it.”
“Oh, right. You spent three weeks disinfecting that thing.” Phin snorts at the memory of Mey sitting on the kitchen floor, trying to soak the entire toaster in bleach. “It’s a miracle it worked this long.”
“It’s because I’m the only one who actually uses it,” Mey says in the most whiny voice they can manage, putting the toast down on the two plates and handing one of them over to Phin. “You two would live off of takeaway and microwave meals if you could.”
“C’mon, let’s have breakfast on the balcony - and don’t insult cheap food. Cup noodles are pretty good too.” Phin grins and walks through the living room, waiting for Mey to open the balcony door. Now there’s slight disadvantage to not putting on their prosthetic this morning - doors become enemies.
Mey makes a face, struggling with getting the jammed balcony door open. The wind that blows in when they do is warm, despite the time of day, hinting at an unbearably hot afternoon. But for now it’s perfect, and quiet, and Mey doesn’t hesitate before sitting down on one of the cheap folding chairs and taking a bite of the toast. “One of these days your taste buds will be so ruined you won’t even be able to appreciate my cooking anymore.”
“You know I never appreciate your cooking when there’s terms and conditions involved anyway,” Phin points out, sitting down in one of the other unoccupied chairs and jabbing their fork at Mey. “Which there better not be this time, because I’m hungry.”
Mey snorts, picking up a strip of bacon and taking a small bite. It’s perfect, though it might be a little vain to say that about their own cooking. Whatever, it’s absolutely perfect. After a moment, they hold up their hand, showing the glowing light of the regeneration tag winding around their wrist. “Consider it payment for this. Won’t bring my eye back, but it does help with the burns.”
Satisfied by the answer, Phin dips their toast into the egg, taking a small bite before the runny egg yolk can drip onto their top. “Okay, fine - this is better than cup noodles and microwave meals. But only slightly.”
“Shut up and eat your breakfast or I’m feeding it to the crows,” Mey says without any serious danger behind their words, leaning over to try to steal a bit of Phin’s bacon and flashing a grin with too many teeth when they try to shield their breakfast.
They stay like that for a while, sitting on the quiet balcony and sharing food while they watch the sun rise and the city wake up. Phin doesn’t get up to get ready for the day until the car engines are starting and children on their way to school are filling the streets below with loud chatter, grinning and ruffling Mey’s hair when they leave.
It’s not entirely conventional, but it’s a good life.
