#speshulpengin

Shachi waved an impatient hand. “Look, I have some experience in casual revolutionizing, and if that has taught me anything, it’s that the commoners are who Penguin should be cozying up to. And me. That’s absolutely critical. She should also be cozying up to me— Uff!”

He wasn’t quite fast enough to swat the throw pillow aside before it rocketed directly into his face and nearly sent his sunglasses flying.

“That’s… not a bad idea, actually,” Brody mused like nothing had even happened, rubbing the scruffy blonde stubble on his jaw. For the first time, Shachi noticed that Brody’s chin was the same stubborn square shape as Penguin’s. Boy Penguin, anyway. Boy Penguin’s chin got scruffy like that too when they’d been underway for a while and the only girl around to impress was Ikkaku, who barely counted.

I… kind of miss that chin.

The thought hit Shachi like one Bepo’s tackle-hugs, then sat on his chest just as heavily. As cute as Girl Penguin was, and as desperately as Shachi wanted to get his hands all over her, there was always something that wasn’t… quite… right. Wasn’t quite Penguin. Her giggle was beautiful, but it wasn’t Shachi’s favorite rumbling belly laugh. Her dainty hands felt amazing clasped in Shachi’s, and enveloping her small body in an enormous hug satisfied all of Shachi’s primal, protective instincts, but he missed when he hugged Penguin and got the life squeezed out of him in return, sometimes to the point that he was lifted right off his feet. He missed the occasional brush of Penguin’s calloused fingers and palms while he helped Shachi correct his form when they sparred together. He missed when they were the same height and they could just lean on one another when they got tired, heads pressed together, hands not quite touching.

”Are you… jealous?”

You can’t lie while the Veiyl is out, Esthrid’s voice reminded her from her memories, sounding far more smug than Penguin recalled her being in real life.

She turned her face away and watched blood drip from Shachi’s scored bicep. Her cheeks flared with heat, probably turning the same shade of crimson. “Fuck you.”

”Look at me.”

She couldn’t. She couldn’t force her body to obey. Couldn’t bear to look into his face, because she knew. She knew he understood her far too well to miss the guilt in her eyes. As if he hadn’t marked it already.

”Penguin. Look. At. Me.”

She didn’t look. Not precisely. She only flickered her eyes to his for the briefest half of a half second. But it was enough.

”You are. You’re jealous.”

Was it her imagination, or was that a hint of wonder in his voice?

”I’m not—“ She choked on the lie, her stomach heaving and her mouth tasting of blood before she could even force it out. “It’s not that—“

Rough, calloused hands seized her face, leaving sticky smears of blood on her jaw and cheeks. She knew where they were taking her before she even reached her destination, and if she was being honest, she had plenty of time to stop it. To be smart, think twice, cut her losses.