#fandomwithbenefits

The comment prompts are listed in order of the grid (rows 1 through 4, columns A through D):

1A: user's first work

1B: a drabble (exactly 100 words)

1C: comment more than 100 words

1D: a work you have bookmarked or saved

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2A: written before canon (jossed)

2B: less than 500 hits

2C: non-fic (audio, art, poetry,meta,...)

2D: liveblog in comments

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3A: quote your favorite sentence

3B: a genre or trope you've never read before

3C: first comment on work

3D: one of oldest 20 works in a fandom or ship

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4A: anonymous work

4B: describe how it made you feel

4C: an old fandom of yours

4D: by user with less than 10 works

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Suo stifled a laugh. “Well, that includes Hiragi-san and Umemiya-san too.”

“Am I actually the stupid one here?”

“You are brilliant, Haru-kun. Cooking is just not your forte.”

Sakura rolled his eyes. His fingers busily scrolled through all the online recipes, only pausing a bit to grab a heavy blanket and drape it over his sickly boyfriend.

“Seriously, don’t worry about me.” Suo smiled weakly. “I’m fine. We could just order something like usual.”

“Didn’t ya hear the thunder? No one makes deliveries in this fuckin’ weather.”

“Then, we can wait out the storm and order later,” Suo suggested, presenting the obvious fact.

“You are sick, Hayato. You need to eat soon.”

“You could just make me something simple. No need to go out of your way.”

“I gave you scrambled egg and rice, but you threw out your entire lunch.”

“I won’t throw up again. Promise.”

Sakura exhaled roughly, hands bunching up the blanket a little too tightly. He briskly adjusted it until his feverish boyfriend was completely bundled up into a human tortilla on their comfy couch.

“Look, I wiped the floor with an entire gang using only my bare hands. Alone. A stupid porridge gonna be easy peasy once I get the hang of it.

Suo chuckled, though his gaze was a little concerned. “Please don’t equate cooking with fighting.”

“It’s a challenge! I was once a Bofurin Leader. I will conquer any challenge that comes my way!”

“No, seriously, I need you to get out of that violent mindset and keep our kitchen intact. If this apartment burns down right now, I don’t think I’ve got enough energy to run.”

Sakura scoffed. “Have some faith in me, will ya?”

Though, admittedly, his boyfriend’s concern was not baseless. Just five minutes into the kitchen and Sakura was already sweating; struggling to figure out just how he should stir the rice, how much force he should use, why the hell did the rice keep sticking to the pan and whether that was normal.

“The chicken looks fine, I guess,” Sakura mumbled, eyeing the boiled chicken that seemed a little too pale.

Thankfully, when he tried the porridge, it tasted just fine on his tongue.

When he got back, Suo looked almost half-asleep on the couch with a random Doraemon movie playing on TV. He smiled weakly at Sakura. His gaze sparkled when it landed on the bowl of porridge and the cup of steaming herbal tea that his boyfriend was carrying.

“Oh, wow, you even made the tea,” Suo commented.

“You always drink tea no matter what the occasion,” Sakura said matter-of-factly.

His boyfriend grinned and took the bowl from him. “Is it good?”

“It better be,” Sakura muttered.

Suo took a spoonful of the porridge, paused for a bit, and gave an unreadable stare, during which Sakura’s mind overthinking fast. Finally, after a minute, a gentle smile broke on Suo’s face.

“It’s warm.”

“It is.”

“Just like you.”

Sakura tried to come up with a biting comeback, ending up closing his mouth again. Before he knew it, a pair of soft lips already touched his reddened cheek.

“Thank you,” Suo whispered into his ear, warm breath tickling his neck.

“Yeah, ugh, whatever.”

Sakura didn’t resist when Suo spoon-fed him the porridge straight out of his bowl, completely forgetting that his boyfriend was sick.

The next day, they ended up sharing the flu and the blanket together.

A/N: I plan to create a sakusuo zine and I have a poll (here) Please vote if you’re interested

Fives gesticulates wildly. “You were supposed to be on my right! You’re always on my right.”

Echo is about to pop a plug. He shoves his disparate arms under Fives’ nose. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m left-handed.”

Fives glances down at Echo’s scomp, clearly meaning to say something wholly inappropriate, but then snaps his mouth shut and says, “Okay, I forgot about that.”

Echo grunts and throws both his arm and his scomp up in exasperation before leaving in a huff. He can’t talk to Fives like that.

***

Of course, Fives comes to find him later. Echo is sitting on the crumbled remains of the outer wall of their compound, looking out over the sea of clouds, when Fives approaches.

“Hey,” Fives says quietly.

Echo nods in greeting. He swore to himself he wasn’t going to cry but now that Fives is standing there, looking for all it’s worth like not a day has passed since they set out for the Citadel, Echo fears he might choke if he opens his mouth. He was so ready to have Fives back. It was like getting his limbs back. But it turns out that you can’t just attach new parts to old hardware.

Fives leans on the broken wall to Echo’s left and stares at the cloud cover spreading out before them. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“Me too,” Echo agrees. He was so angry when Fives didn’t notice Echo’s minute change to a maneuver they had pulled dozens of times during the war. He wanted so badly for Fives to catch on, for things to be as they were before. Echo should have realized that it was an impossible wish. They both almost died (and to this day, Echo isn’t entirely sure that he didn’t die all the way at least once), Fives was marked a traitor, shunned even by his own brothers, Echo was used and abused and altered beyond recognition. Fives went on without Echo, and Echo found a place within Clone Force 99 and then with Rex - again. Their paths diverged and meandered away from each other - and it changed them.

But they found each other again and that has got to mean something.

Fives fidgets for a few moments before standing up and moving to Echo’s right side. Echo gives him a confused look, but Fives merely nods firmly as he settles his elbows on the chipped top of the wall. “Yeah,” he notes, “that should work.”

Echo smiles fondly when he realizes that Fives is trying to adjust to their new situation. Maybe Echo should too. The changes he’s gone through are more visible and are still giving him grief every now and then but that only means he can point to something tangible when he’s angry. Fives doesn’t have that luxury. Echo sometimes sees him rubbing his chest where the blaster bolt presumably hit. Fives always covers it up with a joke, says it’s just another token of war, but Echo knows that’s not true.

“I’ve become a pretty good shot with my left,” Echo muses.

“I noticed.”

“I could use someone to watch my right flank though.” Echo holds up his scomp, the hard edges glinting in the setting sun, scratched and dented by constant wear and tear. “Pretty shit to aim with this.”

Fives bumps his shoulder against Echo. “That’s what I’m here for, buddy.” He doesn’t look at Echo when he sighs, “I’ll do better next time. Promise.”

Echo smiles. “Me too.”

Fives gives a resolute nod and together they watch the clouds drift past as the sun slowly sinks below the horizon. This is quieter than they’ve ever been, but Echo likes it. He still knows when Fives is sitting on a dumb comment though so when Fives opens his mouth Echo has a pretty good idea of what’s coming.

“And you are absolutely sure that we can’t weld a blaster to your scomp?”