#mapletwist

-

Edge sighed, staring at the fourth attempt at a cake. He ran a hand down his face, while Twist just studied it, puzzled. “So…what’d I do wrong?”

“Well I think being born was likely your first mistake.”

“Hey! I was created in a lab, an’ I think ya know that.”

Edge sighed, rubbing the space between his sockets. “Are you quite certain you don’t just want to let me make the cake?”

“No!” Twist said, and Edge raised a brow-bone. Twist rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “Sorry, darlin’. But, uh, this is import’nt, yeah?”

Edge sighed. “Fine. Let’s try this again. For the fifth time.”

Twist, infuriatingly, beamed at him.

-

“Hey, sweetheart, ya ever thought ‘bout goin’ skydivin’?”

“…you’re joking, right?”

“So tha’s a no?”

“twist. that’s an emphatic ‘no’ with a series of exclamation marks at the end of it.”

“…Oh. Well. Uh…so now that ya’ve thought ‘bout it, ya think maybe ya’d be in’erested? Hey. Hey! Rus? Where’re ya goin’?”

-

“Hey, darlin’? If ya could go anywhere in the world…where would ya go?”

Red blinked, taking a pull on his beer. “dunno. haven’ thought ‘bout it much, i guess.”

Staring up the ceiling, Twist said. “There’re so many places up ‘ere. So many things ta see, ya know? An’ not half ‘nough time ta see ‘em all.”

Red just grunted. “so where’d you go, then? if ya could go anywhere?”

“The moon,” Twist said, dead serious. Red chuckled and Twist cracked a grin. “Not sure. Ev’rest would be cool ta see. Fun ta climb, too.”

Red laughed. “you an’ me got different definitions ‘a ‘fun’.”

Twist glanced at him and winked, clinking his beer against Red’s. “Not always, sweetheart. Not always.” For a little while, he was quiet, then he asked, “If ya could fuck anyone in the world, who would it be?”

-

Twist sat beside Slim, watching his fingers move over the keys. “So…how d’ya do this, darlin’? Where do I put my fingers?”

Slim smiled serenely and stilled his hands. “here. like this.” Twist laid his hands overtop his and waited.

“Right. Now what?”

Slim chuckled. “we’ll start with something simple.” He slowly moved his fingers over the board, and Twist followed him doggedly, a hesitant rendition of ‘Hot Cross Buns’ sounding out. Slim pulled his hands away. “now do it on your own.”

Twist nodded and took a breath, fingers playing over the keys. “Like this?”

“yeah. like that. you’re doing really good.” Slim smiled softly, and Twist beamed, a rumbling purr rattling his bones.

“Thanks, sweetheart. Fer, ya know, teachin’ me. ‘preciate it.”

“of course. i’m…i’m happy to.” Slim blushed as he said it, and for a moment, they were both aware of how close they were sitting, aware of the warmth of the monster beside them. Then Twist cleared his throat and returned his attention to the piano.

“So…I jus’ keep doin’ this, or…?”

“oh. right. um. here. let me get the sheet music. you’ll, uh, you’ll need to know how to read it.”

-

“Hey, Pap. Got a question fer ya.”

“OH! HELLO, TWISTED ME. WHAT CAN I HELP YOU WITH?”

“Ya wanna go ta Washington with me? ‘pparently there’re monsters up ‘ere that never got driven Underground. They’re shy, though. Wanna see if I can draw ‘em out. Ya know. Make friends.”

“THAT’S AN EXCELLENT IDEA! AS AMBASSADOR, IT IS MY DUTY—NAY! MY PLEASURE TO FIND THESE MONSTERS AND REUNITE THEM WITH THEIR PEOPLE!”

“Sweet. Pack a bag. Plane leaves in…” He checked his watch. “Five hours.”

-

“Heya, darlin’!”

Cash just glared at him and went back to reading his newspaper. Twist scooted closer. Cash scooted away. Twist scooted closer again, and Cash was out of room on the couch. He didn’t say anything until Twist was close enough to put his chin on Cash’s shoulder and say, almost directly into his acoustic meatus, “Whatcha doin’?”

“trying not to lose my patience. what do you want?”

“You’re inta gamblin’ an’ shit, right? A real high roller?”

Cash’s interest was peaked, but he tried not to show it. “you could say that, yes.”

“…So would ya be in’erested in goin’ ta Vegas with me? Got tickets to a magic show.” Cash shook out the newspaper, turning the page. “But tha’s more my thing than yers, I bet. Reserved the penthouse suite at….” He tilted his head back. “The Bellagio? Yeah. That sounds right. Figured tha’s a lot a space fer little ol’ me. More’n enough room fer a friend.” Cash glanced at him, brow-bone raised.

“twist. i’ve seen your pay check. how the fuck did you—?”

Twist smiled slowly and raised a hand, holding up Cash’s wallet. “Right. Yeah. So. Might’ve misspoke b’fore. You reserved a room at the Bellagio. Rented a convertible too, fer the trip out that way. Pretty little thing. Real smooth ride. Should—“

“you little—!” Cash snatched his wallet back and glared at him. Twist just grinned, somehow managing to look innocent after committing actual theft. He flipped through his wallet to make sure he hadn’t stolen anything else. “you picked my pocket?! when?”

Twist shrugged. “Sorry, sweetheart. You c’n take the rat outta the gutter, but ya can’t take the gutter outta the rat, I guess.”

Cash shook his head…but he was eyeing Twist with calculation now. “…yeah. i bet. and i bet a gutter-rat like you has more than a few tricks up his sleeve.”

A slow smile spread across Twist’s face, and he indeed produced a coin from seemingly nowhere. “Yeah. Ya could say that, darlin’.”

Cash grunted, looking between Twist and his recovered wallet. It had been ages since someone had rolled him like that. He could put those talents to good use. Especially in a place like Vegas. With another calculated look, he declared, “fine. but you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“Aw, darlin’—“ But a particularly harsh glare silenced him. It didn’t wipe the smug grin off his face, though.

-

Blue looked between Twist and the long trench filled with hot coals. He could feel the heat radiating off of them. “I’m not so sure about this.”

“Aw, c’mon, darlin’. Ya ain’t havin’ second thoughts are ya?”

Blue took a breath. “Second thoughts, yes. And third thoughts. Maybe even fourth thoughts.”

Twist leaned down, planting his hands on Blue’s shoulders. “Ya remember what they said durin’ class, yeah? Jus’ keep walkin’ an’ stay calm. Don’ run. Don’ rush it, and don’ stop no matter what. Here. I’ll go first, if it’ll make ya feel better ‘bout it.”

Blue shook his head. “No. No. I can do it. Just. Give me a moment.” He took a deep breath, and started across, blocking out Twist’s encouraging shouts.

At the end of the trench, when his bare feet were back on cool grass, all his breath left him in a rush and a huge grin lit up his face. He ran to his brother—watching anxiously from the sidelines—and hugged him, chattering excitedly while they watched Twist walk across the coals himself. A huge smile lit his face, and he joined them soon enough, laughing as he lifted them both off the ground in a celebratory hug.

-

Red grinned as he opened the mailbox, pulling out the latest series of post cards. There was one with a picture of Mount Everest on the front. The others were all places he couldn’t recognize, the caption on the bottom of the card little more than gibberish to his uneducated sockets. The back of each card was filled with Twist’s shockingly neat writing, narrating his journey across Nepal and the Himalayas.

He brought the cards inside, reading the backs as he drank his morning cup of coffee. Smiling to himself, he pinned the fresh batch of post cards to the corkboard. There was already a collage of similar cards from all over the world pinned to it.

Maybe Twist was right. Maybe there wasn’t enough time to see everything, but damn if the crazy fucker wasn’t trying his best.

-

“how did you talk me into this?” Rus demanded, knees shaking as the door of the plane was thrown open.

“Same way I talked my way inta bed with Cash. Persistence.”

Rus blinked. “…what?”

But Twist was grinning as his jump partner strapped him into the tandem harness. The instructor was reminding Rus that he would be just fine. He didn’t have to do anything—just let his jump partner do all the work. His soul pounded, terrified. But Twist and his partner were already out the door, and now everyone was looking at him and—

They.

They were.

Falling!

Rus swore at the top of his voice all the way down, the wind whipping his words away until even he couldn’t hear what he was saying. His soul only settled marginally when the parachute deployed and—after the initial jerk against the harness—they started to drift down at a more leisurely pace. When they landed, though, his knees were shaking and, if not for his flight partner, he’d likely have allowed himself to slip bonelessly to the ground in gratitude.

Twist, infuriatingly, was laughing recklessly and swearing in pure, undiluted joy. “Fuck yeah! Yes! Fucking hell!” Manic grin in place, he looked back at Rus and said, “We’ve gotta do that again.”

Rus, speechless, gave him both middle fingers—dissatisfied when Twist’s only response was another joyous whoop.

-

“Next time, ya wanna try Jersey? Heard there’s a monster out that way with a real nasty reputation. Poor guy’s prob’ly jus’ lonely.”

“HMMM. I SUPPOSE.” Papyrus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “BUT I THINK WE SHOULD DO MORE RESEARCH NEXT TIME. I’M NOT SURE THE LOCALS TOOK OUR QUEST VERY SERIOUSLY. AND I’M QUITE CERTAIN ‘BIGFOOT’ IS SOME KIND OF PEJORATIVE.”

Twist nodded seriously. “Yeah. Yer prob’ly right. Can’t say I’d be all that keen ta come say ‘hi’ if someone was yellin’ racial slurs at me either. Can’t really blame the poor guy.”

Papyrus patted him on the back. “I KNOW YOU’RE DISAPPOINTED, TWISTED-ME, BUT WE DID LEAVE THEM SOME BROCHURES! I’M CERTAIN THEY’LL CALL US ONCE THEY REALIZE OUR INTENTIONS ARE ONLY GOOD.”

He brightened at that. “Yeah. Yeah!” He knocked his shoulder against Papyrus’. “Thanks, darlin’. Ya always know jus’ what ta say.”

Papyrus beamed. “NOW…JERSEY, YOU SAY?”

-

Twist’s fingers played across the keys. He stumbled in a few places, and he hit a few wrong notes, but the melody was recognizable, and his playing was soft and sweet—at odds with the look of intense concentration on his face. The song came to an end and he sat back, features inscrutable.

“something wrong?” Slim asked.

“…This is hard, sweetheart. Harder’n I expected.”

Slim nodded sagely. “yeah.” He sat beside Twist and, nudging him to make room, set his hands on the keys. His fingers flowed over the board, smooth and easy. He relaxed into it, smiling softly. “it takes time.”

“Time,” Twist echoed. “Yeah.”

Slim eyed him. “twist?”

He shook his head, his smile returning—just as bright as always. “Show me how it goes again?”

For a moment, Slim hesitated, tempted to push him. Instead, he shook away his unease and set about showing Twist how the song was played once more.

-

Smiling proudly, Twist carried the cake out to the dining room, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ at the top of his voice. Never mind that neither of them actually knew what day they’d been ‘born’. It was the thought that mattered. Blackberry was smiling and kicking his feet, pleased to be the center of attention. The others stood around the table, singing as well. Carefully, Twist set the cake on the table, soul warming when Blackberry leaned over the table to blow out the candles as the song came to an end.

He studied the cake. “Oh, wow, Edge you really outdid yourself this time! This is beautiful!”

“I didn’t make it,” Edge said, a very slight smile softening his features almost imperceptibly.

Blackberry cocked his head. “Blue?” Blue shook his head too. “Um…did you…buy…it?” They all shook their heads. “Then…who…?” Twist smiled and winked at his brother, pretending not to be hurt when Blackberry’s face fell a little. “Papy? You…? Really?”

“Yep!” Twist said, chin lifted. “Wan’ed ta su’prise ya.”

Blackberry did a remarkable job of hiding his disappointment. “Oh, Papy—you didn’t have to do that!” he said, voice bright.

“I know but….” He scuffed a foot against the floor. “Was important ta me. Dunno why. Jus’. Wan’ed ta do it.”

Blackberry’s smile grew more genuine. “Aw. Papy….”

“would someone just cut the fucking cake?” Cash asked gruffly. “you two are making me sick.”

Edge calmly cuffed him, earning a glare and a rude gesture. “Blackberry? Would you care to do the honors?”

Nodding eagerly, Blackberry grabbed the knife and—leaning away from the cake—cut through the frosting and the sponge. The smell of chocolate wafted through the air, rich and heady. When the cake failed to explode, Blackberry leaned close and observed, “Oh, wow. It looks…it looks really good, Papy!” He didn’t quite manage to hide his surprise, but Twist couldn’t exactly blame him for that.

“Hopefully it tastes good, too,” Twist said, scratching at the back of his neck. After several long sessions with Edge, he’d finally managed to consistently produce a cake that wasn’t just edible but tasted good. Still, Edge hadn’t been there to help him out this time. He might have fucked it up without the other skeleton around to monitor his progress.

“I’M SURE IT’S DELICIOUS, TWISTED-ME.” No one really commented on that, but there were a few uneasy glances exchanged. Edge, however, just stared back at him coolly and…confidently? Somehow, that made Twist’s shoulders relax marginally.

“Well?” Edge said, “You’re the guest of honor, Blackberry. It only seems fair you get the first bite.”

Blackberry hesitated, but ultimately nodded. “Yes! You’re…You’re absolutely right! As the birthday boy I am obligated—honored to have the first piece!”

He beamed at his brother, but Twist could see the strain in his cheekbones and around his sockets. He cut a piece of cake—a small piece, given Blackberry’s usual opinion that more was better—and set it on a plate. Daintily, he used a fork to cut a small piece away. He lifted the fork, holding it in front of his face as if to study it before putting it in his mouth. Smiling uneasily, he eyed Twist and, with a nearly imperceptible fortifying breath, took a bite.

His sockets went wide and his pupils burst into stars. Still holding the fork, he asked, “Papy? You made this? Really?”

Soul pounding so hard he could nearly hear it echoing in his skull, Twist nodded eagerly, breathing still a little unsteady. “So it’s...it’s good?”

“Good?” Blackberry asked, “It’s incredible!”

Twist didn’t doubt his word. The hesitance and traces of uneasiness were all gone. He cheerfully cut the rest of the cake and split it amongst the other guests, making sure to give himself another—more generous—slice. And when Twist took the first bite, his bones went limp with relief. He wasn’t exactly a fan of chocolate, but he knew that this was what the cake was supposed to taste like—sweet but not cloying, rich and moist.