#scratcho-mcdatcho

Her own smile widens in response. Her son is here, in front of her. That is as good a reason to be giddy as any, and Karan finds that she would not be able to stop herself even if she wanted. She imagines the picture the two of them must make, smiling like happy fools in the middle of her home and bakery, the reddened skin on Shion’s wrist cradled firmly in her own hands. 

Outside the window, the first rays of the dawning light hit the buildings. It pinkens the whole street, lighting the stone steps up and softening the small tufts of short, vibrant green grasses and weeds that grow between the cracks. 

As much as Karan loves her neighbors and the usual bustle of her town, this is her favorite part of the morning. Before anyone else has woken up, before the streets start to fill with people as they start their days. It is the kind of peace that she values in her life now, more so after the upheaval of No.6 and all that came in the aftermath. 

Shion turns away from her then, just barely looking past her. His eyes are unfocused, like he’s watching something in the middle distance. Waiting for something, maybe.

“Mom, can I ask you something?” 

There it was. 

Karan had known that her son had something on his mind. Call it mother’s intuition, or maybe just emotional intelligence, but Karan knew her son well enough to know when something important was on his mind. 

She nodded encouragingly at Shion as she kneaded bread for the rolls she’d soon be popping into the oven. 

“I think that Nezumi might be back.”

Her hands paused above the bread for a brief moment before she continued, pressing into it maybe a little too hard with her fingers and then smoothing it down with the heel of her palm. 

This was not the first time Shion had said that. It wasn’t even the second. 

Both times before had been mistakes. The first, someone in West Block had taken on the stage name Eve. They performed Hamlet, and Shion had been so sure that it would be Nezumi, well used to his flair and fully expecting it to be his grand, dramatic gesture of coming home. 

From what Karan had heard of him, and from the short moment she had met him before he left, she wouldn’t have been surprised either, so they went to see the play, ready to welcome Nezumi home.

They had both been disappointed that day, though Shion far more than her.

The second time, too, had been a case of mistaken identity. Someone with a similar voice half obscured by the noisy gathering of West Block’s bazaars – but Shion had heard it, for just a split second, on his way home. He’d backtracked frantically, trying to catch a glimpse of Nezumi’s smirk, maybe a flutter of his long, tied up hair. In the end, all he was left with was the familiar cadence ringing in his ears, almost mocking as he found nothing of the man himself. 

Shion came into the bakery the next morning. It was early, before Karan had even finished making her pastries and breads for the day, and heavy with the still dark sky and his own thinly worn hope, he told her about what had happened. As they rolled out dough together in the pre-dawn morning, Shion spoke aloud his fears. He had been so sure that it had been Nezumi. At first, he thought it was a test, had held tight onto that last chance, that last hope. But his disappointment at not being able to find Nezumi undercut his words and Karan held him close when, three days later, he finally admitted to himself that it couldn’t have been Nezumi. 

This time, Karan was so suspicious of who it could actually be. She’d seen her son crushed too many times. Most of all, she hated seeing his back turned to her, steps echoing slow and heavy as he left the bakery, returning instead to the home that he’d once shared with Nezumi. 

He always laughed at himself for jumping to conclusions, but Karan couldn’t help but notice how harsh the laughter was, or the slump of his shoulders even as he insisted that he was fine, or the way that his feet dragged slightly, scuffing his shoes against the stone steps outside her shop. 

It was heartbreaking. 

She never wanted her son to look like that. Defeated. Alone. 

And she hoped to every god there might be out there that this time, Nezumi really was coming home to her son.

Instead of voicing her many worries, Karan just smiled brightly at Shion. 

“Let’s give him something to come home to then, shall we?” She said, determined. 

Her son just smiled back at her, buoyed by Karan’s positivity. After all, this was what a mother was supposed to do.

She pushed aside the slight mess that they hadn’t yet cleaned up from the croissants and rolled out a new ball of dough. 

“What should we make for him? Do you know any of his favorites, Shion?” 

“Cherry cake. We should make cherry cake for Nezumi.”

“Cherry cake it’ll be, then.” Karan rolled her sleeves up past her elbows from where they had begun to sag down her forearms, wilting from hours of work she’d already done that morning. “Can you grab the cherries and pit them? They’re over in the bowl on the counter, dear.”

Shion shoved the sleeves of his sweater up, much less practiced than Karan. She noted them already beginning to sag and hid the way that her lips tugged upwards at the sight. It wouldn’t do to let Shion think that she was laughing at him, but she knew he’d be awkwardly tugging his sleeves up throughout the whole process, trying to avoid getting them caught up in the mess. 

Sometimes Karan was reminded that, for all his genius intellect, her son was not the best at thinking through the small details of life. That was okay though. It brought to mind his bright innocence from childhood. A lot of it had been lost, even just within the past two years, but it was nice to see the little places it still existed.

And standing there, looking at her son with his fingers stained pink from the juice of the cherries he was cutting, elbows kept stiffly at his sides in the hopes that his sweater sleeves wouldn’t dip down further than they already had, Karan couldn’t help the fierce love that welled up in her. 

She leaned up towards Shion and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“He’ll come back to you.” She reached up and tilted his chin so he was looking at her. “Because Shion? You are worth coming back to. And he is worth waiting for. And that’s how I know that Nezumi will come back to you.”

Karan wiped a tear from his cheek and continued, hurting to see her son hurting, but knowing that he had to know this, especially if Nezumi hadn’t actually returned to the area yet. “He won’t be the same as when he left, in the same way that you aren’t the same Shion that he left behind here. All of us grow with each new experience, and the two of you have experienced a lot of new things since you parted ways. Nezumi might need more time to figure out who he is in the aftermath of everything, but Shion, even if he doesn’t come back today, or tomorrow, or even a month from now, he’ll come back to you. But for now, what you have to do is just keep moving forward. Exactly in the way you have been. Don’t forget about all the good you’ve done here. You’ll be able to meet him again as an equal, and if that means that you have to give him a good punch to the jaw for making you wait so long, then that’s what that means.”

A voice spoke up from the shop’s entrance, startling both Karan and Shion. 

“Maybe this wasn’t the best time to show my face, then,” Nezumi said ruefully. 

Karan heard Shion make a small, nearly inaudible gasp in the back of his throat as his breath hitched. 

And then he was moving, throwing himself at Nezumi. Nezumi flinched and took a half staggered step back, eyes wide, like he was actually expecting Shion to actually punch him. But no, Shion’s arms just wrapped around him. Just… holding him, like the thought of letting go was something he couldn’t bear. Nezumi visibly relaxed into his grasp. Shion’s arms just clutched Nezumi tighter.

Karan looked away from the two of them, trying to give them what privacy they could have here. Her eyes fell on the small pile of cherries that Shion had abandoned, only half of them pitted and cut. She set to the task herself, determined to finish the cherry cake that her son had wanted to give to Nezumi upon his return. 

And Karan, for once in a life filled with having to prove herself again and again in ways both big and small, had never been so happy to be wrong. 

Nezumi had come home, and he’d come home to her son. And that was all she could really ask for, as a mother. She’d shake down worlds for her son’s happiness – though recalling No.6’s crumbled walls, it seemed, she thought, not without humor – that he already had someone at his side that he could achieve that with. 

Taako just laughed. “While that would be fuckin’ hilarious, and trust Taako on this one, I am imagining exactly how it would go down and it is qual-i-tee entertainment, this ain’t no joke. Cap’nport has—and eugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this gross shit—those mushy feelings for you.”

“Then why hasn’t he said anything!” Merle threw out his arms pointedly, narrowly missing connecting an elbow with Magnus’s side.

“Well buddy, two things.” Magnus held up a finger. “One, I’m pretty sure that he’s resigned himself to pining for the rest of his life,” He popped up a second finger. “and two, when we first met Dav, the second we got home you said—and I quote! ‘Holy Pan, he is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.’ and you also have yet to do anything about it.” He folded his arms, unimpressed. “Merle, that was four years ago.”

“Okay, say that you’re right.” He ignored the “We are!” from Taako. “It’s been four years! What do I even say to the guy?”

Magnus clapped his hands together. “Brainstorming time! We’re gonna find a way for you to ask him out, and you can’t chicken out on us.”

“Fine! Fine. I’ll do it, but only if we come up with a good plan.”

Taako jumped to his feet. “Yeah, dog! Matchmaking! Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

The three of them huddled together in the middle of the floor, arguing back and forth about the right ways to woo someone. Merle was very unimpressed with Magnus “Nice to mag you, I’m Meetnus” Burnsides and Taako “Our first date is at the Chug n’ Squeeze” Taaco, but the three of them eventually settled on a plan.

Merle pulled out his phone and dialed Davenport. He paced nervously around the room as it rang. Finally, after three rings, Davenport picked up.

“Hey Dav! Me, Taako, and Mags are going to hit up Chesney’s bar. Do you, uh, want to come with us? Just, you know, a low key night out. Nothing big. Just wanted to know if you wanted to come along.” He laughed nervously, making a ‘what do you want me to do!’ face at Taako and Magnus, who had their heads in their hands.

“Okay! Yeah, I’m, ah, we are planning on heading over at nine-ish.” He paused. “Great! Yeah, see you there, buddy.”

He hung up the phone and smacked his forehead, turning to Magnus and Taako. “Buddy? What the hell was I thinking!”

Magnus looked at him sympathetically. “Yeah, that was preeetty awkward,” he said.

“But it sounds like Davenport didn’t disagree, which is the only that could have made this terrible plan actually fail,” said Taako. “Proof that we’re fucking amazing matchmakers, if I might add.”

Magnus fistbumped him and grinned. “Better go get ready for your date!”

Later that evening, Merle walked out the door to Taako’s reminder of “Better not chicken out on us, old man!” and Magnus’s call of, “Have fun, but not too much fun!”

Merle went over to his pickup, fumbling his keys in his nervousness. He slid into the driver’s seat and wrapped his hands around the wheel, just sitting there for a moment. He breathed in deeply, taking in the calming scent of Delia, the lavender plant that sat up on his dashboard.

“Okay,” he said to himself. “You can do this.”

He gently patted one of Delia’s leaves, turned the car on, and drove off towards Chesney’s.

Chesney’s was one of Merle’s favorite places. He’d been going there ever since it had opened during his teenage years, and it really hadn’t changed that much. Among the newer, more recently remodeled buildings, it looked like a relic from the past. When he had become friends with Taako and Magnus, he’d started bringing them around, and it became a place for the Tres Horny Boys and the occasional guest to hang out during the evening.

Merle pulled up to the parking lot behind the bar and parked, quickly getting out so he didn’t give himself time to stall. It was going to be fine. Just a friendly night out with Davenport.

He walked into Chesney’s, greeting some of the other regulars and the bartender—it was Killian that night, which was good because if everything went terribly, they were good enough friends that she wouldn’t bring it up again ever. She was a good pal like that.

He spotted Davenport at one of the seats at the bar and headed over to him.

“Hey, Dav!” He chuckled awkwardly. “Listen, uh, funny thing. Both Magnus and Taako got suddenly super sick and couldn’t make it tonight. Can you believe that? I mean, wow, what a funny coincidence!”

Davenport smiled. “Hey Merle. That’s too bad about Taako and Magnus, but it’s nice to see you.” He coughed. “Thanks for—uh, thanks for inviting me out.”

“Oh, of course! You know me. Always willing to take you out.” Merle realized what he had said and Killian disguised her chuckles as a laugh as he scrambled to correct himself. “I mean, I’m always willing to go out with you! Uh, pal.” Merle buried his head in his hands. “Aw, hell.”

He tried a few desperate minutes of small talk to buy himself some more time before he made good on the rest of the plan he, Magnus, and Taako had come up with, but they only managed to talk about how Mavis and Mookie were doing in school and in general, Killian and Carey’s upcoming wedding (Killian, who couldn’t resist talking about her fiancée, joined in), and Lucretia’s new promotion, before Merle realized that it wouldn’t get any less awkward or difficult to bring up.

He looked up at Davenport and took a deep breath. “Listen, Dav–” He was cut off as Davenport held a hand.

“You might want to sit on that thought for a moment, Merle.” He raised his voice loud enough that tables situated nearby could hear. “So Taako, Magnus. How are you guys feeling? Merle said that you were really sick, but I guess you two recovered pretty damn quickly.” His lips were pressed together, suppressing a smile.

Merle heard a quiet “Well, shit” in Magnus’s voice coming from behind them and turned around.

Taako lazily raised a hand in greeting while Magnus offered a sheepish grin.

Merle tried to be upset with them, but the truth was that he’d done the exact same thing with Taako when Magnus first went out with Julia two years before, so he just laughed. “You jerks! Can’t believe I didn’t realize you guys would follow me.”

“You really should have, amigo, it’s almost tradition by this point!” Taako wagged a finger at Merle.

Magnus chimed in his agreement. “Yeah! Not the tradition part, because you two only did that once, but the ‘you should have expected this’ part.”

Killian, who had barely been holding back her laughter, couldn’t help it at this point and burst out in snorting laughter. When she finally stopped laughing long enough to speak, she leaned over the bar counter. “Alright Taako, Magnus, you’ve been ratted out, so why don’t the two of you just head on out. Leave Merle and Davenport to their business.”

Magnus and Taako sat there looking at each other for a second before shrugging. Then Taako stood up and held up his hands defensively. “Hachi machi, people! If two sick guys can’t enjoy a last drink, a lone pleasure in the midst of complete misery, what is this world coming to?”

Magnus grinned and took up the charade. “But I suppose we’re not welcome here.” He shook his head in mock seriousness. “What kind of world do we live in if we can’t even get support from our dearest friends, right Taako?”

Taako nodded. “Too true, Mango. Better head out now while we still have the energy to drive our poor frail bodies back home.”

He slung an arm around Magnus’s shoulders and the two stumbled to the door, moaning and groaning like they were in pain, occasionally throwing a glance over their shoulders to see if anyone was paying attention, redoubling their efforts when they caught Merle’s eyes.

They didn’t quite make it all the way out before the two of them burst into laughter, and Davenport shook his head fondly at them as they disappeared.

Merle turned back to him, anxiety lessened a little because of the shenanigans of his best friends.

“I guess those two gave it up a bit,” he said wryly, “but I was wondering if you’d, ah, like to go out sometime? On a date,” he clarified.

Davenport paused for a moment and Merle felt like his heart was going to explode, but then Davenport smiled a little and said, “Yeah. I’d like that, Merle.”

Instantly, Merle deflated with relief and he slumped against the counter. “Oh, thank Pan.” He chuckled. “I don’t know what I would have done if you said no.”

“I wouldn’t have said no to you, Merle.”

Merle picked himself up off the counter. “Then I gotta ask, why didn’t you say anything? If you wanted to be in a relationship, why didn’t you ask me on any dates?”

“It’s a little more complicated than this, and it’s a bit hard to explain, but you know that I’m somewhere on the aromantic spectrum.” Davenport sighed. “When I’m in a relationship with someone, it doesn’t always work because I can’t make myself love someone any more than I already do. And sometimes, it’s not enough and that relationship falls apart.”

He reached out for Merle’s hand and Merle reached back. Davenport’s hand was rough and warm in his grip.

“I didn’t want to risk that happening with you, Merle. I’d rather have you in my life forever, even if just as a friend.” Davenport shrugged a little. “With those risks in mind, I couldn’t ask you out, though I knew that if you asked to me out on a date, I wouldn’t be able to bring myself say no.”

Merle groaned. “Are you telling me that if I had just stopped being a wimp and asked you out years ago, we coulda been dating already?”

Davenport looked like he wanted to laugh, but patted Merle’s shoulder. “Everyone needs to take their own time, Merle.”

Merle perked up. “Hey, Dav, I know a nice park not too far from here. It’s got real pretty lights hanging up in the trees. What do you say we blow this joint and head over there? Make this a real date?”

Davenport hopped off the barstool and started for the door. “What are you waiting for, then? Let’s go, Merle.” He smiled.

Merle sputtered. “Hey! Wait for me!” He jumped off the stool after a quick goodbye to Killian, who gave him a grin and a thumbs up, and hurried after Davenport.

Merle charged out the door to see Davenport standing there, waiting for him. Merle huffed. “Thought I was going to have to run after you! Don’t make me work so hard,” he complained. “I’m old!”

Davenport looked at Merle, amused. “I had to wait for you, Merle, you’re the one who knows the way to the park.”

“Huh.”

The two set off for the park, Merle guiding the way. They walked close together, their shoulders bumping.

After a moment, Merle reached out for Davenport’s hand and squeezed it gently. “This is okay, right?”

Davenport squeezed it back. “Yeah, Merle, it’s okay.”

The two chatted idly, comfortably, the rest of the way to the park, still holding hands. When they got there, they saw the trees, which lit up the entire park in a soft glow, making everything seem magical.

Merle looked at Davenport, his profile illuminated by the lights hanging from the trees, and thought that he couldn’t be happier than in that moment. Davenport noticed him looking and turned to him.

“Hey Merle?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. This is a really nice date.”

They wandered over to a bench and sat down, sides pressed close together. Davenport squeezed Merle’s hand and held it tight and Merle squeezed it right back.

Barry and Lup are a lot of things- as previously mentioned, the two of them are liches. They are the world’s best couple (that’s not pure audacity- thanks to the day of story and song, many people will agree on this point). But, most importantly, the two of them are optimists. After all, when you’re far away from home, and being pursued by an unending hunger, with only a close couple of friends by your side, optimism is important.

So, the two of them were unwilling to drown in their own angst. They would much rather find not just the silver linings, but the honest-to-gods perks of lichdom.

Number 5. The Aesthetic.

So clearly, aesthetics are important. Denim aside, Barry’s aesthetic falls into the dorky- maybe even mad- scientist side of things. Of course, being a lich definitely enhances that. So, okay, maybe when Barry dies he tends to hover unnervingly near people and communicate mundane sentences in vague terminology akin to riddles.

Lup, of course, was also quite the sucker for the aesthetic. She was an evocation wizard, after all, and even if she wasn’t, fireballs are cool as shit and that’s an undeniable fact. Of course, being a lich with far more magical power than the average wizard makes the aforementioned fireballs far stronger and thus infinitely cooler than a regular fireball.

This is when they first begin thinking, “lichdom may not be so bad.” Lup’s spectral form is a bright and fiery red and Barry is cryptic as all hell when asking about shit like cereal, and in all honesty- it’s fun. Being a lich is fun!

So, when the starblaster is pulling away from the world where they became liches, Lup stands on the edge, turns around, and spreads her arms wide as she falls backwards off the ship. And she absolutely wreaks havoc upon the hunger, giving a red glow to the darkness that has befallen this plane of existence. Taako is out there on the deck, watching with eyes wide, and behind him watching from the window is Barry with the largest grin on his face.

When Lup returns,she’s stitched back together by a silvery thread and absolutely beaming, talking about how close they are, and all Barry can think about is how beautiful she is, and how stunning, and how absolutely amazing. He loves her- it’s not a realization, he’s known for quite some time, but he can’t help but think it as she gushes on.

He loves her.

Number 4. Some good ‘ol goofs.

Death is somewhat normalized within the century they spend, jumping from plane to plane. That doesn’t mean there’s no grieving, but as time goes on, death becomes more of a “Goddamnit, Magnus,” sort of affair.

That being said, the first time one of them dies early on (it’s Barry, as he is far more foolhardy than Lup) it’s… oddly somber. He returns to the group, just a red robe with a hood that reveals no traces of a face and skeletal hands, and there’s a brief moment of silence.

There’s a lot to be said in that moment- Davenport and Lucretia seem either stressed or distressed, it’s hard to tell, while Merle and Taako have their eyes averted. Lup makes a move to stand, to say something, but before she can, Magnus is rushing past her, and suddenly he’s standing right where Barry is, inside of the robe.

“Hey, check out my new duds!” Magnus flexes, and Barry, as quick as he can, moves his arms so the illusion isn’t shattered. And, just like that, the silence and grief is gone, and all seven of them are cracking up.

Later on, Lup asks Barry if he’s alright, and he’s being completely honest when he answers that he’s doing great.

Number 3. No body, no dysphoria, no problem.

Everyone aboard the starblaster is some flavor of queer. This possibly includes Fisher, but that’s really anyone’s guess- the closest to confirmation the crew has gotten on that is Taako putting a note up on the tank saying, “This jellyfish is gay and there’s nothing you can do about it.” It was pretty sufficient evidence, the crew agreed.

Barry and Lup, both being of the trans flavor, were no strangers to dysphoria. In Lup’s case, it wasn’t exactly something she experienced often. Barry felt it slightly more, but, once again, it wasn’t exactly a commonplace occurrence. The two of them were far more familiar with gender euphoria- being surrounded by such a loving and accepting bunch did wonders for them.

Still, the two of them would have their low points where no matter what they did, something just felt just so slightly off with the skin they were in. At times like that, what better fix than to forgo your blood and bone to instead be just a robed figure? The perfect type of androgyny was undead horror, after all.

That being said, being a spector wasn’t all it was cracked up to be at times. Months after the day of story song, both of them were mortal again- they embraced each other, and then everyone else piled into the hug, squeezing the two of them. A body, some dysphoria, but still no problem.

Number 2. Okay, maybe the power hungry liches had a point.

“Okay, maybe the power hungry liches had a point,” is something Barry said as joke when practicing magic in his new spectral form. However, it’s something the two of them quickly realized was true- they were quite a bit more powerful as liches than they had been before. More than that, the power was just incredibly fucking lit.

So, with said power at their fingertips, magic became even more commonplace on a ship made up almost entirely of wizards. They didn’t exactly have to worry about spell slots- not as much as a mortal wizard, anyways- and so, even when it was most definitely unnecessary, the two of them would use magic. If a fireplace needed to be lit, Lup was there. If Merle couldn’t reach a book on the highest shelf, Barry was there (Lup was also there, but more so to tease him than to actually help).

And so, the majority of the casting relied on the pair of liches. When the rest of the wizards got tired, Barry and Lup were always ready to swoop in and save the day. They would face whatever troubles were facing off the starblaster crew in whatever plane of existence they were currently in, grab ahold of each other’s hands, and beam brightly at any foe, no matter how big.

Their confidence was entirely earned, and they would more often than not walk away from a battle, talking amongst themselves with big smiles and inside jokes.

Number 1. So you want to live forever?

Here’s the thing about a romance between an elf and a human that practically everybody knows- there’s a sort of tragedy to it. The difference in lifespan is far greater than most races, so the elven partner will often outlive the human. Of course, Barry and Lup had already broken this rule just by merely existing on the starblaster. They had far more time than most couples would have, and for that the two of them were eternally grateful. However, there was still the looming idea that one day, they would settle into a world, and age and die as normal.

This idea loomed over their heads, until finally, lichdom came and kicked this looming threat straight to the curve.

Here’s the thing about a romance between an elf and human who become liches, the thing that nobody knows- it’s a massive middle finger to the normal tragedy of such a romance. No longer do they have to worry about one day being seperated (they experience it anyways, and it’s hell, but it makes meeting her again all the more satisfying). No longer is death a real barrier.

Barry J. Bluejeans never set out to live forever. He joined the IPRE as a way to satiate his curiosity, he fell in love with Lup quick and spent too much time pretending he wasn’t, and he found a family aboard the starblaster. Life was good enough- he was sure of that. But, the more time he spent with Lup, the less he wanted to settle for enough- he did want to live forever, just for more time with her.

He loved her so much.

And Lup- oh, Lup was also so ecstatic to realize their story wasn’t a tragedy. Hell, it seemed like a tragedy, and others would almost certainly make it out to be one. An elf falling for a human- and, on top of that, being relentlessly pursued by a force that wanted to consume everything.

And of course, the tragedy of lichdom.