Chapter Text
Four adjusted the trophies in her trophy case, trying to center them perfectly. Fresh Ink had been on a roll lately, and Four was actually running low on trophy space. It was a good problem to have, and a very fun problem to sarcastically complain to Three about, but it was still bothering her.
See, she had five trophies on the top shelf, but the two tallest ones were both the same height, which meant she couldn’t put the tallest one in the middle. She could, hypothetically, put the tall ones on either end, but that would make a weird reverse-pyramid shape and she was not about that.
A sudden knock at her door threatened to split her attention, so with a sigh, she left the trophies as they were. “Coming!” Four shouted, rushing over to her apartment door.
It was Pearl. She greeted Four with a finger gun, a ‘sup,’ and a magenta envelope that was shoved into Four’s hands.
“What’s this?” Four asked, grabbing the letter.
“It’s a wedding invitation!” Pearl said. “‘Cause I’m getting married!”
“Oh, right," Four said. “Cool!”
“Also, can I ask you a quick favor?”
“Sure.”
“Would you be my maid of honor?”
“Wait, what?” Four asked, eyes wide. “I mean, I'm flattered, but I didn't expect to be your first choice.”
Pearl shrugged. “I'm an only child, dude, and Marina already stole Eight.”
“Well, what about Three then, right? Hasn't she gotten pretty close with you guys as your daughter-in-law or whatever?”
“Okay, one, don't call Three my daughter-in-law, that's fucking weird. Two, I did ask her, and she said she'd rather die than wear a dress that matches mine.”
“Would I have to wear a dress that matches yours?” Four asked, raising an eyebrow.
Pearl scratched the back of her head. “It would be preferable, yeah.”
“Alright, sure,” Four relented. “I'm great at matching outfits anyway.”
“Oh thank god,” Pearl said. “Because I'm fucking awful at it.”
“Don't worry, I got you,” Four assured.
“Thanks,” Pearl smiled. “Oh, actually, speaking of Three…” Pearl pulled out a second envelope and handed it to Four. “Could you give this to her? I have no idea where to find her.”
Four raised an eyebrow. “Have you tried calling her?”
Pearl rolled her eyes. “We were all eating out together one time on a double date, and she saw me eat mayo straight from the packet, so she blocked my number. She still hasn’t unblocked me, and it’s been, like, a week.”
Four made a face of pure disgust. “Pearl… what…”
“Don’t judge me, okay! It’s fucking good!” Pearl shouted, throwing out her hands. “Look, just… get the invitation to her, please?”
“Uh, yeah,” Four said. “Sure thing.”
Three threw open the doors to the museum in a huff and hurried over to the employee area. She leaned over the computer and entered her employee ID into the attendance tracker, her name popping up on the screen along with the time she’d clocked in.
“Good morning, Amy.”
She tilted her head to see her boss, Carl, standing a few feet off, coffee in hand. Three loved Carl. What a guy.
“Morning,” she greeted.
“Say, can I talk to you for a second?”
Three nodded, moving away from the computer and leaning against the table. “Yeah. What’s up?”
“So, one of our guests filed a complaint against you yesterday. I’m just checking in to see if you know what that’s about?”
“Hmm.”
Three gestured to the display in front of her. “So, as you can see, it’s believed that with the proper thrust, it would be possible for such a ship to breach the planet’s atmosphere and enter outer space. Unfortunately, this would take a massive amount of fuel, more than could be provided from zapfish, and the current environmental laws prevent scientists from using nonrenewable energy, because as I said earlier, any further agitation to the environment could cause sea levels to rise even further, endangering civilization as we know it.
“And on that note, that’s the end of the tour. Any questions?”
One guy in the front raised his hand. Three nodded towards him.
“Are you single?” he asked. “‘Cause I like a smart girl, you know.”
“So do I,” Three said without missing a beat. “Unfortunately, you don’t fit either qualification.”
“Ha! Got ‘em!” said some kid, who was quickly shushed by his mother.
“Anyway,” Three said with a roll of her eyes, “any actual questions?”
“No idea,” Three said.
Carl bobbed his head up and down and took a sip of his coffee. “Right, right. Nah, it’s cool, it happens. Unfortunately, this is your third one this month, so I gotta, like, supervise one of your tours now to make sure everything’s chill. Company policy, you feel?”
“Yes,” Three said slowly. “I feel.”
“Coolio.”
He wandered off back towards the coffee machine, so Three just shrugged and left to go wait by the front desk. Hopefully whatever tour he ended up latching onto would be relatively tame.
When Pearl left, Four placed the envelope on her desk, pulled out her phone, and began scrolling through her contacts. But just before she hit ‘Three,’ she passed by ‘Ricky,’ and her mind began scheming subconsciously.
She should probably just call Three and keep it simple, but… a little google search wouldn’t hurt, right?
She turned to her laptop, opened a new tab, and typed ‘Danny Danalov’ into the bar. It had been a while ago since that conversation they had had after the tournament, but Four made it a point not to forget what little information Three let slip about herself. Also, Danny Danalov was a hard name to forget.
She watched with bated breath as the page loaded. She probably wouldn’t find anything useful, and—oh, wait, nope, there was his Squidstagram. She clicked, and couldn’t help herself as her eyes drifted to a selfie he had taken, and the work uniform he had been wearing at the time.
“P. R. Hana Science Museum,” Four said, her mouth turning up at the corners. “Found ya.”
Three approached the tour group, Carl following behind her looking bored out of his mind. She couldn’t blame him.
“Hello, and welcome to the P. R. Hana Science Museum. I’m Amy, and I’ll be your tour guide today. Prepare yourselves for the technological marvels of modern day Inkopolis.” Someone snickered towards the back of the group, but Three ignored it. For one, she agreed that the opening line was dumb as fuck, and also, her boss was literally standing right there. “Please just come right this way, and—”
Was.
Was that Four there in the back, giggling at her?
God damn it. Of all the fucking things.
Four winked. Three wanted to scream, and she probably would have had her boss not been standing right next to her.
“—and we’ll begin our tour!” she finished, putting on her best customer service smile and swiveling around to walk towards the first exhibit. She managed to get through her spiel on the mechanics of ink molding and its applications on sub and special weapons without looking at Four, though she could feel the girl’s eyes boring into hers.
“…And as this technology has developed over the years, we’ve been able to mold larger and more complex structures out of ink, such as the Ultra Stamp that came out earlier this year,” she finished. “Does anyone have questions?”
Nobody raised their hand—except Four.
Three nearly pulled a muscle as she stretched her mouth into a smile. “Yes?”
“So, I dunno, I was just wondering, uh…” She paused to make a big deal out of leaning forwards to read Three’s nametag. “I was just wondering, Amy, why each weapon is limited to only one sub and special when the physical components necessary for the molding are small enough that many could fit on any given weapon.”
“Ah. What a great question,” Three said, her voice as fake as Four’s curiousity. She already knew all this. “That’s due to battle regulations, and is only a function of turf wars. Many military and modified weapons have the capacity to switch between multiple different subs, and use a variety of specials. But limiting standard regulation weapons to one sub and special apiece helps balance battles, and adds variety to the sport.” And also allows Sheldon to sell five different versions of the splattershot instead of just one, but she didn’t say that.
“Mmm, mmm, very interesting,” Four said. “So, follow up question…”
Three ground her teeth together behind her plastered-on grin. This was going to be a long tour.
The end of the tour took its sweet time in arriving, partly due to the relativity of time, and partly due to Four asking so many goddamn questions. But eventually the last display had been explained, and then elaborated upon, and the group was dispersing.
“Cool,” said Carl. “Yeah, you’re fine. Bye.”
Three waited until he turned the corner, then reached out and grabbed Four by the collar, pulling her down until they were staring eye-to-eye.
“Hey Three,” Four said.
“Four,” Three breathed, “I swear to god, if my boss had not been there, you would currently be embedded halfway into the electromagnetism display.”
She laughed. “Look, I had to find you to give you this,” she said, holding out a letter.
“And you couldn’t have called?” Three snatched the letter out of her grasp, and began walking back towards the museum entrance.
“Well, this was much more fun,” Four said. “You know, you make a surprisingly good tour guide.”
“It is my job,” Three said. “But yeah, I guess. I find it all somewhat interesting, which helps make talking about it more bearable. Also the exhibits change more often than you'd think, so that keeps things new.”
“Nerd.”
“Shut up.” Three looked at the letter. “What is this, anyway?”
“Wedding invitation,” Four said. “Pearl said you blocked her number?”
“Oh yeah, I did. I should probably unblock her.”
“Eh.” Four made a so-so gesture with her hand. “I mean, she did eat that mayo.”
“You know what? You’re right. One more week.”
As they approached the museum’s entrance, Four said, “Well, I should probably be heading soon. Don’t want to keep any curious tourists waiting.”
“Right. But one more thing before you go,” Three said, grabbing Four by the shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“This ‘follow me to work’ thing was cute and all, but please,” she stressed, “don’t call me by my real name. Okay?”
“What?” Four’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I mean, sure but… why?”
Three pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s long, complicated and personal, okay? But I’d just appreciate it if you didn’t.”
Four frowned. “Hey, uh… Sorry if I shouldn’t have come today. I didn’t mean to breach your privacy or anything. Honestly, I kinda thought your whole cagey thing was, like, a really dedicated comedy schtick.”
Three sighed. “Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t. Again: it’s complicated. But don’t worry about it, you’re fine. I’m getting more comfortable being open with my friends.”
“That’s good,” Four said, then smirked. “Guess I’ll have to thank Eight.”
“Yeah,” Three laughed. “You should.”
Two weeks later: One Day Until the Wedding
“Okay, okay,” Marina said, pacing back and forth in the middle of the living room. “Cake and flowers have been double checked, we sized the rings, we found the rings after you lost them—”
“I said I was sorry,” Pearl grumbled from the couch.
“We told Albacore how many chairs and tables we need… what about food?”
“The bakery’s gonna deliver it to the venue tomorrow,” Pearl said from the couch. “And, yes, I double checked.”
“Right.” Marina took a breath. “And Craig memorized his script?”
“I mean, I didn’t quiz him on it, but I trust the guy.”
“Alright.” Marina stopped pacing and took a breath. “Alright. I think this might work out.”
“Uh, yeah, duh,” Pearl said. “It’s gonna be the best wedding ever!”
“And you’ve prepared your vow?”
“I’m gonna wing it.”
“Pearl!”
“Hey, I want to speak from the heart, not a piece of paper!” she protested.
“But what’s wrong with transcribing the words your heart gives you ahead of time?”
“Marina, you know my lyrics are always better when I make them up in the middle of a song, not when I write them down before hand. And I want these to be the best damn lyrics I ever say!”
Marina smiled. “Aw, Pearlie… Okay. I trust you. But don’t mess it up, okay? We only get to do this once!”
Pearl shrugged. “If it goes poorly we can just get a divorce and try again, no biggie.”
“True enough,” Marina laughed. “But I’d prefer to get it right the first time.”
“Me too,” Pearl said. “And don’t worry! I know this is important, but you’ve been suuuuuuper stressed over it. You need to let yourself enjoy it. We’re getting married!”
Marina sighed, and sat down on the couch. “You’re right. I just can’t help myself! I want it to be perfect.”
Pearl took Marina’s hand in hers, and looked into her eyes. “Hey. No matter what happens, it’ll be perfect. Because we’ll be there together.”
“Yeah,” Marina agreed. “Together.”
Their lips met for what must’ve been the thousandth time by now, but it was no less amazing. On the contrary, even; it seemed to be deeper every time.
DJ Octavio watched through the warped glass as the octocopter descended from the sky, coming to a rest just in front of him. “Report, sir,” it warbled at him. “All missions to reclaim the defected Octolings remain unsuccessful. We suspect the Inkling forces are working with the traitors, and are keeping watch over the targets.”
Octavio huffed. “Typical. I can't believe we've wasted so much time on this bullshit. Say, you said that S-01-A’s dumb wedding was dropping tomorrow, right?”
“That is correct, sir.”
“Hmmph. Then maybe we should take a more direct approach.” Octavio focused and shifted into his humanoid form, shattering the glass of the snowglobe as he grew to his proper 8-foot height. “About time we take things to their turf, don’t you think?”
The octocopter seemed nervous. “With all due respect, sir, are you sure this is the best course of action?”
Octavio punched the octocopter in the face. It flew backwards and smashed into a nearby rock, splatting all over it.
“Hey! What’s going on over there!”
Octavio turned. A male Inkling in military garb was standing before him, carrying a splatbrella and looking very nervous.
“Under orders from Captain Cuttlefish, I am not to let you leave the premises!”
Octavio reached out, grabbed his brella, and snapped it in two. “I can’t believe Craig trusted someone like you to watch over me. Ha!”
The Inkling retreated back a step. “St—stop right there!”
“Listen here, squidbreath,” Octavio said, grabbing the soldier by his neck and lifting him up to eye level. “If I hear that any alarm has been raised once I get out of here, I’ll track your sorry ass down and mash you up so hard that next time you’re not gonna respawn. Understand, punk?”
He nodded.
“Good.” Octavio then hurled him off the edge of the cliffside, sending him tumbling towards the depths of Octo Canyon. He contemplated destroying the spawn point just to be sure, but he didn’t think that would be necessary. That kind of threat usually did the trick.
He cracked his knuckles as he approached the grate that led to Inkopolis. Time to have some fun.