#poisoning technically

Hugs are a gift rarely given in the Woods family. 

Especially to Beefcake. 

The poison that coats their skin acts as a deterrent to physical touch is useful in some scenarios, sure. But most days, Beefcake wishes it were gone. 

Percy is the only one who can hug them safely. But Percy betrayed them. Percy turned her back on everything that Beefcake wanted, made a deal with their mortal enemy, and refused to see that what she had done was wrong. 

No, Beefcake could not hug Percy.

Sometimes it hurts them not to get hugs. When they were younger, they had the pond. The fish in the cool water would always greet them happily, as if there was no one they would rather see than the little frog. Beefcake would jump in the water, letting the comfortable liquid envelop them in a close approximation of a hug. It was home, so it felt like love.. But when the demiplane burned, the fish disappeared. Their pond evaporated and they could only find hugs from Percy (consistently, the others tried but the little sting of guilt haunted them every time they flinched from the poison). 

But never again. 

Beefcake stares at Percy, letting their rage bubble up to the surface. They ignore the crawling sensation on their skin. This feeling goes away, it always does. They ignore Percy resting her head on Agatha’s shoulder, they ignore Aradia lying across Rivet’s legs, they ignore Taris and Nova huddled over Taris’s spellbook with their heads nearly touching. Taris, feeling Beefcake’s gaze, lifts their head. Beefcake quickly looks away, ignoring the pang in their chest as they pull out their whetstone. They turn their back on their family and angrily sharpen their sword. 

They don’t care about Beefcake. Beefcake of all the siblings has always been the most isolated anyway. Not by choice like Rivet, but by circumstance. 

“Beefcake!” Taris calls out. They look up and see their sibling waving them over. Warmth swells in Beefcake’s chest but they hesitate. “Get over here.”

Slowly, they rise and wander over to where Taris sits, careful to keep a few inches of space between the two of them as they sit. Taris easily captures their attention, asking for their help figuring out the calculations for a spell they’re working on. Beefcake doesn’t notice that they are pressed against Taris’s arm until Taris hisses in pain. They rocket back, putting distance between Taris and themselves. Taris’s arm is covered in blisters. That only happens after prolonged exposure. 

“Hey, no it’s okay.” Taris reaches out to pull them back, but Beefcake scrambles further away. “You didn’t hurt me.” 

“Didn’t I?” Beefcake gestures to Taris’s arm. They look down, feigning surprise. 

“Oh, I didn’t even notice.” Taris has always been a terrible liar. 

“I should go get some water.” Beefcake leaves, their thoughts drowning out Taris’s protests. 

They don’t see Taris looking after them longingly. 

Because Taris is also a stranger to physical touch. 

They keep their distance from their siblings, they always have. Before they left the House, it was out of a sense of obligation: to distract Regis away from their siblings, they had to maintain a standard of performance that often left them exhausted, unable to seek the affection they craved. After they left the House, it was out of a sense of shame and guilt: they are still unsure where they stand in the eyes of their siblings for killing their father. 

So they refrain from asking for contact, because they never have. They can survive without it. 

Both of them can.