#!foxoe

are you ready for some klue and fox nonsense are u really

Gives nose/forehead kisses

KLUE ALRIGHT he’s so affectionate and Fox just eats it up man. And if Klue’s with one of his other partners he’s the same way, someone restrain this man he’s going to forehead kiss EVERYONE no matter how tall or short they are.

Gets jealous the most

Fox likes to be the centre of attention, but he’s also kinda greedy. Klue does get jealous but it’s mostly in reaction to him thinking terrible things about himself whereas Fox just wants all the things please give them to him he wants to be the star.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive

Both of them, but for different reasons. Klue doesn’t really drink anymore, mostly b/c he’s worried about brain damage compounded by alcohol abuse. He has enough trouble as it is, and he doesn’t need to be drunk to call Foxoe at like six in the morning going “okay so basically I’m lost.”

Takes care of on sick days

Fox is a caring person, and nobody really believes that which is SAD. Klue relies on him pretty heavily at first, and it’s a little easier for them all as more people are added to the circle of People What We Trust and Also Sometimes Bang. Love’s an open thing, and it makes looking after each other easier.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day

KLUE WILL BODILY PICK FOXOE UP AND THROW HIM AND HIS DESIGNER SWIMWEAR INTO THE WATER AND DIVEBOMB AFTER HIM.

Gives unprompted massages

Fox, which klue fucking loves but they’re both warriors, and Klue has learned to ask before touching Foxoe b/c a shiv to the neck is a bad thing. Foxoe’s good at his job, he’s good at most things he does first time. he’s surprisingly private for someone that open.

Drives/rides shotgun

Klue drives, mostly b/c he likes being in control of the things he can be in control of. Also, opening and closing doors for Fox gives him a strange satisfaction.

Brings the other lunch at work

Foxoe! When they’re working together they take lunchbreaks together which is sort of horribly cute. Fox ends up running a lot of stuff, but he still finds the time to be that kind of considerate. It’s one of the things Klue adores about him.

Has the better parental relationship

AHAHAhahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Tries to start role-playing in bed

They both do! It’s fun, and Fox looks KILLER in a skirt.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer

Klue can’t dance for shit. well no that’s a lie. He can dance just fine, but he doesn’t really care what people think of him when he does it, whereas Foxoe is actually TALENTED at that shit and Klue’s just like YEAH MY ARMS GO EVERYWHERE HAVE FUN WITH THAT.

Still cries watching Titanic

KLUE. no fronting. Klue. Klue sobs like a fucking CHILD it’s embarrasing.

Firmly believes in couples costumes

Foxoe likes to MATCH okay it’s not just him being picky. And when they go with their extended circle of people what we fuck and also love, it’s GROUP COSTUMES (that twell refuses to wear) and usually Klue’s missing a shirt. 

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas

Klue actually. He thinks that Foxoe deserves nice things, and Foxoe thinks that yes, he does deserve nice things, so Klue likes to spoil him rotten. 

Makes the other eat breakfast

They eat together when their schedules line up. It’s a thing. Breakfast, lunch and dinner together is actually a rare treat. 

Remembers anniversaries

NOT KLUE. Well, actually no that’s a lie also because he writes EVERYTHING down and sets reminders for things but again, his idea of a milestone might be different to fox’s. He carved the man’s name into his arm ok it’s a MESS.

Brings up having kids

“I don’t really want to die,” he says, looking up as she laughs at him, shattered tooth spilling bits of white and red down her lip.

“Oh, honey. I know.” She jerks as he shoots her in the chest and watches her fall, sucking in a wet breath through a collapsed lung. 

---

“I forgot a year, once,” he tells Foxoe, watching the smaller man press their palms together. His hands are broader. Larger. He feels heavier, in some ways. Others, he knows he’s not. Raising one sculpted eyebrow, Foxoe tilts his head to look up at him from between their fingers, holding their joined hands at his chin. 

“I wish I could.”

No. He doesn’t. Because it’ll come back one day and Klue remembers sitting in the sand, watching the fire burn in front of him, making little castles out of bloody mud. He’d broken something, lost something. Laughed so hard he ripped his throat raw, laughed for days. 

He’d left her there. Gotten up and walked away. 

---

There’s a certain kind of comfort in madness. Non-lucidity. Delusions. He loses a year, his seventeenth. Shouts at things that don’t exist, wanders the wastes like a wounded creature looking for a place to die. He hadn’t loved her, not enough to destroy him but he’d had a life, he’d had something akin to a beginning and she’d blown that away. Asked him to put a bomb beneath a throne with nothing more than a gentle smile and he’d done it because she’d been kind. 

Kindness is something that tears you from the insides, hurls you screaming into the back of your own mind because what if you’d said no, what if you’d stepped away, what if you’d shot her when you had the chance, what if you hadn’t lost everything you’d fought so hard for and found out everything you’d had was a lie what if what if whatwhathwat

He lost a year, wandering. Talking to himself. Lost another year crawling back to something akin to lucidity and then promptly fucking forgot, lost every handhold he’d carved for himself in a wave of memories being washed down the drain. 

If he thought it’d help, he’d shoot himself in the face again. He’d tried carving it out, but all it gave him was scars. 

---

“Where did you get these?” his daughter asks him, three months after he meets her for the first time. Her hands are smaller than he’d realised, tiny thumb pressing against the corner of his nose where the scar dips in and around to his lip. 

“I gave them to myself, sweetheart.” She’s too young to understand that he means that literally. Not all of them, some of them were a gift (please help me) but some of them he’d carved in one by one, trying to pull the memories out where he could see. Tracing remembered paths, the curve of a palm against his cheek, his father’s smile, his mother’s-

“I like them,” Nadia says, eyes wide and smile wider. 

He doesn’t beg. Proud, mouth dry and throat aching. He doesn’t beg. Klue’s body is starting to smell worse, charred skin rotting in the heat. Tattooine, fuck he hates this shithole of a planet and Quo doesn’t stop, doesn’t give them time to catch their breath and now they’re here, his husband’s dead and he refuses to beg. 

foxoe sipping a beer watching aly bend over under the sink like yeah that’s my mafia prince husband yeah he’s not a model he just poses that way

which is Foxoe who belongs to Kingbolton