Chapter Text
Cloudy With A Chance of Blue Balls
“Well, hellllo, tall, blue and moody. Hmm Mmm Mmm, goin’ my way?” Cloud Guy vigilantly looks all around before leaning in and sweetly whisper, “Let’s say you and me skedaddle outta here and make today’s forecast a super moist one.”
Branch sighs. This conversation isn’t new. Rather, Cloud Guy’s approach on the topic is in a sense, but it all revolves around the same subject. And how they reached this point still boggles the troll.
One day it’d all been about earning Branch’s smile, encouraging him to face his insecurities and hug Poppy. Now? Cloud Guy’s on a new mission that apparently involves luring Branch into riding his nimbostratus.
Cloud Guy’s words, not Branch’s.
It’d be one thing if everyone else knew of Cloud Guy’s sudden obsession, but he tends to only reveal that creepy part of him whenever he and Branch are totally isolated from the rest of civilization. Nobody ever hears or witnesses his strange flirtations, which suits Branch just fine. He’d prefer this whole ordeal be kept under lock and key where only he can access it.
Except that Poppy knows and she considers it the most adorable thing. Of course she would. She’s Poppy. Everything about Cloud Guy fascinates her.
Today, Cloud Guy finds Branch tending to his garden, uprooting weeds and other foreign debris. He decides to levitate high in the air when Branch decided to change positions and finish plucking weeds from a different end of his garden. “Ya know, McSlappy, winter’s right around the corner. And you know what I see?"
"No," Branch grumbles, "but I'm sure you're gonna tell me anyway."
Cloud licks his puffy lips. "I foresee endless nights, filled with eight inches of thick, lumpy fun if ya catch my drift. Rwerr.”
Branch winces. That was just awful.
Unfortunately, it isn’t the last of them either. “If I name myself Teddy, would you hug me?”
No, scratch that. That one was just plain stupid.
Branch lifts his head to stare at Cloud Guy, and blinks a bit. The cloud looks back with heightened confidence, and when all the little cumulus does is maintain his drifting, Branch asks, “You know what’s in your future?”
“No,” Cloud Guy flutters closer. “Tell me. Will it involve me and you swiping sticky humidity? Should I warn the villagers to expect some sizzlin’ temps later this evening?”
Branch’s mouth bunches to the side. “No, but you can expect overcast skies. You get me? In other words, cloudy with a chance of a blue balls!” With that said, he gathers his basket, shovel and pile and makes his way to his bunker.
“Will it be your blue balls?”
“Oh boy.” Branch rolls his eyes. “Better luck next time, buddy. Maybe when you’re not as willing to soak my britches in perspiration, we may get somewhere.”
“Is that a promise?” Cloud Guy excitedly calls out as Branch activates his platform.
The troll lifts an eyebrow. “It’s more like a premediated speculation on what you’re incapable of doing.”
“Soooo, totally, then? Because I can change!”
“Not likely!” Branch’s head tilts back until the view between him and Cloud Guy vanishes. Only when he touches base in his bunker is Branch able to breathe easier.
This has been going on too long. Two weeks, three days, and eleven hours to be exact; time in which Branch thought this elaborate prank would have run its course, but Cloud Guy hasn’t let up once. It can only mean the little cloud is dead serious and that’s so much worse.
Where any of this is stemming from remains a mystery. Branch can’t recollect ever sending any misleading vibes. Branch had assumed with him always running away and ducking for cover, that the cumulus cloud would catch the hint. Instead, it’s only sent the wrong signals.
Cloud Guy stalks Branch’s trapdoor in the mornings, afternoons and evenings. How a cloud can sustain form so low in the Troposphere escapes Branch’s knowledge. The little twerp should have dissipated into thin air like a good pack of water vapors.
But no, he defies all properties of density, temperature and weather phenomena to survive in this kind of atmospheric pressure simply because he’s freaking Cloud Guy.
Branch crosses to his dinner table and sits down heavily in a chair, absently setting his bag of roots and weeds to the side. He has no clue what it will take for the cloud to catch a hint. Branch has performed every imaginable strategy outside of plain ole being ugly and cruel. He doesn’t have it in him to be that way again. Last time that’d happened, it had nearly cost the villagers their lives. That, and well, Cloud Guy’s flirting isn’t all that bad to deal with. Branch just doesn’t want Cloud Guy to get the wrong idea and believe he stands a chance of ever, ever getting together with him.
Seriously, how freaking screwed up would that be? Him and Cloud Guy? The creeper has as much of a chance of earning Branch’s love as Branch does convincing Poppy to go on a date with him. Neither prospect holds potential.
Firm knocks rap against his trapdoor before his platform gives a metallic whine and rattle. Branch sighs long and tiredly, waiting for Poppy to rudely invade his home for the third time today.
Branch looks at the wall. It’s midafternoon, so she’s bringing in lunch or coming to remind of him of a rehearsal he failed to appear for.
“Branch, Cloud Guy’s spelling your name in the sky again,” Poppy happily announces, prancing off the platform before it lands. “It’s the cutest. You should go see it and express your own declaration of love for him too.”
And just like that, his moodiness achieved a new level. “You’re either sick in the head or trying to push your hidden kinks off on me.” Branch deduces, bored. “Which I will forever hate you for if you keep encouraging that freakazoid to court me!”
“Don’t over exaggerate it, Branch. I think it’s adorable. What’s wrong with him having a widdle crush?”
“Besides the fact that nearly every troll will think I’m so desperate for attention that I have to get it from Mother Nature’s couch stuffing? There’s also the fact that he’s a cloud and I’m a troll!”
Poppy props her picnic basket full of baked goods and stoutberry juice on the table. She takes the seat across from him, and leans forward. “Those are very, very good reasons, and sure, maybe he is a floating ball of dust and water particles. But come on, Branch. Are you really going to let a few technicalities,” she holds back a snicker, “cloud your chances at true happiness?”
“Strike one, Poppy,” Branch warns, jutting a finger. “You only got two left. Make them count.”
“OK, OK, OK, sheesh, chill out.”
“Strike two!”
“I wasn’t even trying that time!” Poppy has never been too good at lying and her efforts to hold back a giggle were too plain and clear.
Branch rolls his eyes and folds his arms. “I wish you’d be a better friend and help me out of this mess.”
Poppy reaches for a cherry muffin. “I don’t think there is. Other then being your normal rude self and flat out telling him you’re not interested.”
Branch takes a blueberry muffin and the small bowl of cream cheese at the bottom. “I tried that already. He claims I’m just playing hard to get.”
“What about insults?”
“Said I was being funny.”
“Yelling?”
“I’m not about to chance scaring him into pissing all over the forest again.”
Poppy helplessly shrugs. “Then you’re stuck with him. It’s not like he hasn’t been the perfect gentleman. Every time I see him around he’s as sweet and charming as anybody in love.”
“When you’re around, yeah, but when you’re not. . .” Branch mocks a bodily shudder. “He’s anything, but chivalrous.” He thinks a spell while taking bites out of his muffin. He swallows, then adds, “I told him he might win me over if he ever learns how to look beyond a rump between the sheets.”
Poppy sputters, eyes going comically wide. A blush erupts in her cheeks. Branch studies her expression for all of two seconds. That’s it all it takes to translate the disturbance taking place in her brain. He surges to his feet, “Get out!”
“I wasn’t thinking it, I swear!”
“Liar. Your mind’s so deep in the gutter, you’re knee-deep in muck!”
“Well, if you hadn’t planted those seeds in my head—” Poppy abruptly stops when she sees Branch’s eyes angle to look behind her. She turns in time to see a piece of paper swaying in the air.
Branch groans. His hair extends to catch it midflight and he brings over to read. Poppy nearly breaks her ankle trying to stand behind while he unfolds it.
“Dear McSlappy—nope!” Branch doesn’t read any further than that point before balling and tossing it on the floor.
“Branch, don’t be rude.” Poppy takes it off the floor and flattens it out. Clearing her throat, she holds the letter out and reads aloud, “’Dear McSlappy,” she giggles, “A cold front’s blowing in as hard as I wanna blow you. No, just kidding, you said if I can change my ways, you’ll gimme a date, right? So, here on out, I vow to be the most polite, well groomed ball of cotton you have ever met. We can start off by you comin’ to my pad for a lovely lunch for two. You, me and global warming our intertwined bodies can create. Yours truly, Cloud Guy.’ Awww, he’s so precious!” Poppy hugs the letter to her chest. “Branch, you have to go.”
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“What’s the harm in going?”
“Uh, wrongly implying that I may be interested?!” snaps Branch.
“Well,” she shrugs again, “You could go and intentionally sabotage the whole thing; make it seem like you’re not worth the chase. It’ll be mean and right up of your alley of evil, heartless things you’d do, but at least it’ll cease all future endeavors in courting you.”
“That’s. . .” Branch blinks, intrigued. That isn’t a bad idea. He could’ve done without being labeled a villain, but Poppy isn’t far off on this. If he can paint the picture of him being the worse kind of troll, maybe Cloud Guy will get disgusted and stop pursuing him.
Yeah. Yeah, this might work. Branch rubs his hands together deviously, licking his lips. This is going to be great. The more he thought over ideas in ruining the cloud’s expectations, the more excited Branch became.
“Branch?”
“Yo.”
Poppy snickers. “In the slim cosmic chance the date does go well, what are the chances of you letting Cloud Guy blow your mind away?”
“Get out. I hate you. I hate you with all of my hate!”
Poppy dodges the hurricane of cupcakes and muffins being hurled her way while frantically escaping to the platform, cackling and snorting the whole time.