“It’s not fair!” Griddex lamented for what felt like the bajillionth time, tossing one of the throw pillows onto the floor in protest before throwing himself onto the couch in its place next to Graviturtle. When his landing bumped Gravi’s arm and made him wince, he sent a brief, apologetic glance before his face twisted back into its prior indignant glower, directed at no one in particular. No one else was there to see it, after all. “We had to get sticked—”

“Stuck,” Gravi corrected, gingerly rubbing the tender spot on his bicep where one of the humans in white coats had plastered a bandage—not even one of the colorful smiley face ones he had secretly hoped for, just plain old beige. The colorful ones were probably reserved for human kids.

“We got our arms squeezed real tight by the blood cuffs and got put on the big scale and did the big breaths for them to listen and showed off our powers just like Blobby and Shelly but they get to go with Papa for ice cream after and we don’t! It’s not fair!” Grid repeated, pedaling his feet where they dangled off the edge of the couch to punctuate the point.

“Not just like Blobby and Shelly. You were going to bite the white coat guy when he looked in your mouth, everybody saw,” Gravi pointed out, with just a trace of their father’s all too familiar disapproval in his voice. For that he earned a more purposeful, grumpy nudge to his sore arm.

“Yeah, well, you threw a fit when they were about to stuck ya with the shot, you big crybaby!”

“Stick,” he countered with a pout, pushing Grid back with gravitational pressure so no accusations could be made that he was actually touching him.

“Ugh, whatever!” he groaned, not even bothering to resist as he slid against his will toward the armrest.

“Well, that’s why they get to go for ice cream and we don’t, cause we weren’t good enough. So I guess fair’s fair.” After a long, sullen silence spent rubbing his arm, wishing his skin was as thick and strong as Grid’s so he didn’t have to feel it anymore, Grav added gloomily, “Doesn’t make fair any fun, though.”

His brother hummed reluctant agreement, staring at the ceiling. “…So what d’you wanna do?”

“…I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

“Go to the super secret ice cream place and get mint chocolate,” was the immediate, blunt, predictable response.

“We can’t.”

“I bet the nice guy’s workin’ who lets mutants sneak in or Papa wouldn’t have taken Blob and Shelle. Man, I bet they’re gettin’ a ton of extra sprinkles and whip cream and more than one cherry on top,” Grid mused mournfully. “He always puts more than one cherry on mine.”

“Mhmm.”

Now Gravi’s mouth was watering with nothing to show for it. The thought occurred to him that they could probably leave the Shell of Justice and by the time they reached the ice cream place (optimistically assuming they would remember how to get there) Sliver would be on his way home with Shelle and Blob so their family wouldn’t cross paths with them sneaking in to get their ice cream. Then again, if Sliver was already on his way home at that point, he’d come here to find them not here and then they’d be in so much trouble, they’d probably never have ice cream again, not even a spoonful.

With them in forever trouble, their brothers would get to go on alone outings with Papa like this all the time, getting to taste all the new flavors, probably sitting in the chairs Grav and Grid usually claimed. They were probably there right now in the little corner of the alley where the nice ice cream man had set up those battered, clunky metal chairs and a stained table for them to sit in privacy and pretend they were actual patrons like everyone else. Enjoying the stray patches of sunlight that peeked in on them, enjoying Papa’s tutting and doting as he wiped their messy faces clean and gently chided them to finish up before everything melted.

“It’s not fair,” he echoed Grid’s assessment, pushing himself up on his elbows. “We weren’t that bad. We should get ice cream too!”

“Y’think they’ll bring any back for us?”

“They don’t have to. We can make our own!” Thus decided, he leapt up, tugging on Griddex’s ankle to urge him along. Without using his powers, a tug didn’t budge him an inch but he lifted his head just enough to shoot him a bewildered look.

“Wha—How?”

“It’s all in the name, just ice and cream. I’m pretty sure we’ve got those at home, and then we add whatever toppings we want!”

“Beats sittin’ here doing nothin’, I guess—but you sure you know how?”

“How hard can it be?”

Not nearly as hard as it would have been for normal kids! Grav floated their favorite purple and blue bowls down from the top shelf of the cabinet with ease, trying to project confidence in this new direction for their afternoon.

“You grab the ice and the milk!”

Hauling the fridge and freezer open, paying little attention when the doors swung wide with a bang that would have flattened their father’s ears, Grid grew just tall enough to make up the distance needed to grab the milk carton from one of the top shelves and pry open the ice machine. More than a few ice cubes slipped between his fingers, raining to bounce, shatter and skid across the kitchen floor. That brought everything else to a halt as Grav took the time to meticulously track down and dispose of every scattered piece, lest they create puddles for Blob to slip in or worse, poor Shelle…But he didn’t want to think about that. Ice cream!

“Is milk and cream the same thing?” Grid wondered when they eventually piled the rest of the ice cubes into their bowls.

“It probably turns into cream when the ice makes it colder,” Gravi decided, hovering at the counter for a careful but generous pour, nearly to the bowls’ brim even with the ice taking up so much room. Grid, growing to get a better look over the countertop, grinned at the sight. It was nice to see him on board and excited. Papa never put as much milk as they wanted in their cereal, insisting everyone needed an equal share, but if their brothers weren’t here, they didn’t get a say or a share!

“Ooh! Make mine a mint chocolate, please!” he piped up eagerly. Gravi stopped up short, wincing as a bit of milk splashed the counter.

That, he wasn’t sure how to do. He knew they had some chocolate and other candy tucked away up on the very tippy top of these cabinets—Papa wasn’t as clever about his hiding places as he’d hoped; while it did keep it out of Shelle and Blobby’s reach, it was never far from theirs for the same obvious reasons as the dishes and the milk. But where would he keep mint in here? Come to think of it, what did mint look like when it wasn’t in ice cream?

Grid should have spoken up before he started pouring the milk in so they could find it and mix it in with the ice first. Gravi might have told him as much but technically he had mentioned that was the flavor he wanted before the idea to home-make it even occurred to him…

Glancing tentatively down to admit his uncertainty was a mistake. Now all he could see were his brother’s big, hopeful, expectant eyes and trusting smile as he clung to the counter, waiting for him to make mint chocolate magic. It wasn’t often Grid put on such puppy eyes; he typically didn’t even realize he was doing it and whenever anyone dared to point it out, he would promptly squint and scowl to make sure they didn’t think he was soft. Their rarity made them all the more painfully cute and effective—and he’d even said please all on his own! Gravi couldn’t let him down or he wouldn’t trust his ideas anymore!

Mint, mint…It had to be somewhere. Where else had they had mint before? …Oh!

“Go to the pantry and see if you can find the tin with those hot chocolate packets Papa used in our cups for Christmas.”

“Hot chocolate? But we’re makin’ ice cream.”

Gravi made a point to scoff and huff a light, breezy laugh like all of this was totally obvious. He’d seen their father do that when a human thought he needed help figuring out what to do. “We’re not gonna heat it up, silly; we’re just gonna put the packet in. It’s got mint flavor and chocolate in it!”

“Oh, yeah!”

Cans, bags and boxes crashed and clattered but eventually he returned with the tin, as well as the sugar container for extra-extra sweetness. When they were behaving their very best and asked very nicely, Papa would put an extra scoop of sugar in their hot chocolate. Since they were doing all this work for themselves so well, they deserved it!

The sugar and hot chocolate dust were decidedly lumpy and clumpy when they were dumped into their bowls but in time it would probably come together like milk always soaked into their cereal. Gravi added one more confident splash in each to top it off, used the corner of the towel he wore as a cape to mop the spill off the counter, and then all they had to do was wait.

And wait.

And, according to Grid, find the perfect spot to eat it once it was ready.

“Why no’ just at th’ dinner table like we eat ev’ything?” Gravi asked through a mouthful of his cape, gnawing the damp fabric to enjoy the preemptive taste of the milk.

“That’s no fun!” Grid protested. “Our table here’s for everybody but Shelle and Blob got the table at the ice cream place all for themselves today! We gotta have a spot just for us too, somethin’ different!”

“Hmm…”

But the entire Shell of Justice was for everybody. Save for Sliver’s office, they all played in every room, explored every sneaky corner and “hidden” passageway until none of them were hidden anymore. There was no way they were eating in Sliver’s office and risking any ice cream on his rug. Where else did they have to go?

Gravi idly paced as he considered, reminded once again of the sunny day their brothers would be enjoying as he dipped in and out of patches of light shining in through the skylight. Watching him trail back and forth, Grid was no doubt thinking of the same, and then—

“Wait. Papa said we had to stay at home today, right?” Upon Gravi’s nod, a smirk slid across his face. “At home. He never said we gotta stay in home.”

They had no idea how to open the skylight and take the more direct route so with their bowls and spoons secure in Grid’s hands and Grid himself tucked in Gravi’s, they ducked out the back door and then floated gingerly up the side of the Shell’s slope. It was higher than Gravi preferred to think about but again, Grid was so enthusiastic he couldn’t bear to burst his bubble and it was indeed somewhere they had never gone before. He simply had to tighten his already-firm hold around his brother’s middle, keep wide eyes pinned on the scute-like paneling and pretend very, very hard that they were just going up a hill, not a whole building. He was so focused on caution, he didn’t even feel his sore arm.

When they reached the top, Grav released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding; it came out as a giggle that was equal parts nervousness, defiance and triumph. His brother snickered too. They would be in so much trouble if they were caught up here—but they wouldn’t be! As of right now this was their secret spot and no one else’s!

The skylight was pleasantly warm underneath them when they sat, the sun even warmer overhead. They didn’t have much coverage out here like they would in the alley behind the ice cream place; they ought to eat theirs before it melted.

It didn’t look much like the ice cream their brothers would have gotten but like this secret spot, it was uniquely theirs—and it was made up entirely of ingredients they liked so overall it had to be good, right?

A bite. A beat.

Grid, ever so polite, opened his mouth and let the ice cubes coated in gritty, unflattering brown sludge spill down his chin and back into the bowl with a resounding splash.

Gravi would not accept such defeat, at least not yet; he painstakingly chewed the ice cubes, straining to ignore the texture of the barely combined sugar-milk slurry and just try to appreciate its sweetness. When Grid’s burst of laughter startled him into nearly choking on one of those ice cubes, however, he had to spit the remnants out.

“Worstest! Ice cream! Ever! Ever, Gravi!”

“It—I—” he stammered, floundering to find an excuse or an apology.

“‘How hard can it be? S’just ice and cream! Ha-ha-ha, I so totally know what I’m doin’!’” Grid crowed, shrilling his voice to mimic him. As soon as he was done scrubbing his mouth off on his towel cape, wishing he could scrub the embarrassed flush off his cheeks too, Gravi glared.

“Hey, it should’ve worked, it’s not my fault it didn’t!”

“Yeah-huh! You’re such a faker, bro! You dunno anything ’bout anything about ice cream!”

“And neither do you so you can’t blame it all on me!”

“Yeah, but I know I dunno anything. You faked it,” he repeated, elbowing him as he sang gleefully, “Gravi’s a big, fake know-it-all~! I bet Shelle would know how to do it for real—”

Frustration stung his cheeks and eyes even hotter than embarrassment, hotter than the sun. “Well, what else am I supposed to do when you’re all bored and sad and mad and whiny about ice cream and it’s the only thing that’s gonna make you feel better?! I just wanted to cheer you up! I tried!”

The wobble in his voice took them both off guard. He had to hurriedly scoot, put his back to him and hunker down into his cape before he could call him a crybaby again.

Why couldn’t it all just work out so he didn’t have to disappoint anybody? He was supposed to be good at things, he had to be. Why couldn’t he do it right the first time?

He didn’t get nearly as long as he wanted to compose himself before a finger prodded his shell for attention. Then a fist, thumping on it. Then a tug on his cape.

“Grav. Gravi. Graviiii. C’mon, don’t sulk like that. Look.”

“Hmph.”

“C’mon, look. Lookit me.”

Another more forceful tug nearly pulled him off balance and he bit back a yelp, catching and righting himself to send another glare, only to be caught off guard again by Grid’s face, the picture of serious—or he would be if it weren’t for the milk mustache on his beak. Grav hadn’t even heard him take a slurp from his bowl to put it there.

“M’ sorry for makin’ fun of ya,” he announced very solemnly, as if nothing were amiss. “I should be sayin’ thanks. Cause you tried real hard to make it nice like you always try for everythin’, and it’s not nice to make fun of nice things from nice people tryin’ their best, and—”

He had to pause there, sticking his tongue out sideways to catch a dribble of the milk heading toward his chin while the hot chocolate dust globs remained firmly stuck. Watching him play up his struggle to reach it, Gravi couldn’t help but relent with another halfhearted giggle.

“There, see? Cheered you up too, now we’re even.” The words themselves were upbeat enough but Gravi could sense the question underneath, Grid wondering if they were good. He nodded minutely and then sighed, rubbing his eyes before risking another look at the…overconfident concoction in their bowls. Better they laugh at it than wallow back into real disappointment.

“…It really is icky, huh?” he admitted in a whisper, sheepish and shy as he scooted back over.

“Yeah.” Grid rubbed the back of his fist over his face and then shrugged. “But maybe it’ll be better once it melts and mixes all together.”

“Maybe.” Or maybe they didn't need it to enjoy their new spot anyway. “It’s pretty cool up here.”

“Cool? It’s probably a ninety-dozen degrees outside.”

“Wha—You know what I mean!”

“Heheh.”

From there they lapsed into a silence that gradually became more comfortable with Grid absorbed in anything of interest he could spot in the city. Grav opted not to peer out and remind himself of the heights, instead closing his eyes and tilting his head to better take in the sunlight. His cape absorbed it too, tucked tightly around him to trap its heat like a toasty blanket just out of the dryer.

He couldn’t remember any other time they got to be out in the sun this long. Papa usually had to rush them in and out of the humans’ sight and world without a second to lose. It was nice to just…slow down for once. Sit, breathe their air, share their sun, take it all in like they belonged here.

His scales tingled. His eyes felt heavy even though they were already closed, his head even heavier. Shelle was so lucky to feel this warm and buzzy all the time without actually needing the sun…But honestly? Grav may not actually want to experience it any other way.

The light bathing his face, the wide open space, the fresh(ish) air of the city, it was all part of it. It was better with all of the components melding together, calming in a way he couldn’t put into words. He should still be full of uncomfortable butterfly nerves about the poking and prodding of the doctors, about being so high up, lingering here so exposed for their father to catch them or humans to see, but all of those worries were being thawed out of him. He felt more like Blob now, like jelly. Jelly didn’t have to worry about anything.

Was this what Papa was talking about when he longed for peace and quiet? Gravi understood it better now. Peace and quiet were like two more warm layers weighing on him, gently tipping him over to lean on his brother.

Grid must be getting sleepy too, considering he barely hesitated to open an arm and curl around him as he would cling to his big stuffed bear at night, growing just enough for a cozier, more enveloping hug. His bear hugs were the best but Gravi wouldn’t want to say so and risk reminding him of his usual worries about squeezing too tight. This one was just right; Blob and Shelly would probably be upset they missed out, if they knew.

It’d be a secret, like this sun spot. Grav melted into his hold as the ice melted into the milk, trusting his internal alarm clock to wake him up in time to get back inside before the others returned.