Chapter Text
Summer heat, that was to blame. When the seemingly endless rain subsided into scorching sunlight, the whole island got wavy around the edges. You could barely breathe out there. He must be suffocating in the haze, choking oxygen from his brain.
That had to be it. Why else would he find himself here again?
Not quite two weeks after their last ‘discussion’, he’d wandered back to Redd’s ship under the pretense of an inspection. He’d definitely inspected a few things.
It was too easy, throwing him against the wall, though now mostly in play. Their faux-fighting dissolved quickly into a different sort of passion, no strength left to hold up the charade. It was too damn hot for pleasantries.
“It’s too damn hot,” Tom complained, turning down the temperature on the dinky, half-broken AC unit in Redd’s bedroom.
“I love it,” Redd said, stretching out on the futon until his joints popped like fireworks. “I love being hot n’ sweaty. You’re just gettin’ spoiled in that cushy, air conditioned office.”
He grabbed Tom’s waist for effect, wrapping himself like a boa constrictor around his sturdy frame.
“Yes, yes, I’m a little more… plush now. And of course you enjoy the heat.” He placed his recently shaved chin atop the mop of ginger hair. “You’re a demon.”
Redd’s face scrunched in a playful pout. “I just like bein’ warm. You’re like a living heater. If anything, you’re the demon here.”
“I think it’s safe to say we both have reservations in hell at this point, if there is such a place.”
Tom closed his eyes, feeling the temperature slowly drop to an almost endurable degree, offset by Redd’s body heat. If he had the heart, he’d push him off.
“Nah, that’s just one of those fairy tales humans tell each other so they don’t go killing each other all the time. Speakin’ of fairy tales…”
“I’m not going to tell you a bedtime story.” Tom smiled against Redd’s scalp, unable to resist his own sense of humor.
“You’re a weirdo,” he said, baring his teeth like a great white shark and pressing his fangs gently against his fading bruise.
“I’m a weirdo?” Tom snatched one of his arms and held it up to the moonlight, illuminating patterns of paint speckles and scars. “What do you call someone who wastes their talent making tacky replicas?”
Ever since Tom had discovered Redd’s false creations were mostly the product of elbow grease and genuine skill, with just a hint of illusory powers, he’d held a bit more admiration for the sly fox, though not without a healthy dose of admonition and “you can do better”-ing.
“It’s not a talent.” Redd pulled his arm back, pushing his face against Tom’s neck to hide his own blushing. “It’s mostly illusion. Back to the subject, please.”
“Which is?” Tom had no idea where he was going with this, and neither, it seemed, did Redd.
“Fairy tales, happy endings,” Redd squinted, trying to connect the dots. “Second chances…”
“Still don’t follow,” Tom said, pushing Redd away gently to retrieve his water bottle.
“I’m talking about us, I mean, me, I guess,” Redd stammered, sitting up and brushing his hair from his face. “Don’t get me wrong, I like you comin’ around,” he grinned, “but I was thinking, I dunno, maybe I could see you outside the boat? Like, in the real world?”
Tom finished gulping down the rest of his water, wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and sighed. “You mean you want a, oh what’d it be now, fifth chance at a relationship?” He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I’ll prove myself to you,” Redd said, back straightening.
“I thought I made myself clear before. I’m not interested in rekindling anything with you. Aside from whatever this is.” He leaned back, fanning himself with his hand. It was getting hot again.
“So why even do this then?” Redd asked, gesturing up and down his frame. “Why waste your time with a crook like me?”
Tom paused in thought, looking out the window toward the sliver of moon peeking out between the clouds.
Why was he here?
It wasn’t the first time he’d asked himself the same question, but it was the first time someone else had asked him. He tried to actually come up with an answer.
“Isabelle said I looked like I was glowing the other day,” he answered, eyes still on the moon.
“‘Glowing’?” Redd questioned. “Like radioactive, or… ?”
“It’s a compliment. She meant I looked healthy. Lively.” He sighed. “I’m sleeping better than I have in years. I can’t explain it. But this has been… healthy for me.”
He cringed at his own wording.
“So,” Redd puzzled, “you’re just boning me for the health benefits then? What am I, a gym? A free gym??”
He appeared to consider the possibility of asking for a subscription fee before realizing that would literally just be prostitution. If Tom had a problem with him selling fake art, he probably wouldn't be too jazzed with him asking for a tip at the end of the night.
“No, I didn’t mean…” Tom tried to justify himself, then stopped. “Wait, what’s wrong with any of that? I thought this was what you wanted.”
Redd had seemed quite content with their frenemies-with-benefits agreement up until now, frequently gloating about how quickly his scheme to get Tom back in his bed had played out to his benefit.
“Yeah, but!” Redd scrambled to find the words. “What about in a few months, hmm? Are you gonna keep this a secret forever?”
“Since when have you thought in the long term?”
An emotion neither had the right words for crept onto Redd’s face. Tom followed his instincts and cradled him close again.
“Where’s this sentimentality coming from all of a sudden?” he asked, settling back into the heat of Redd’s body. “Thought you liked living life on your own terms.”
“Look, I don’t wanna get hitched again or nothin’, I just… Don’t see why we gotta keep this a secret,” he muttered.
“So, would you like me to post an announcement on the bulletin? ‘Attention residents, just for your information, for one undetermined weekday from the hours of 11 pm to 4 am, your town manager requests your cooperation while he makes love--’”
He struck him on the chest just a bit too hard to be merely playful.
“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” he spoke bitingly. “I’m not asking you to tell everyone we’re banging, I just… I guess, I wanna be a part of your life. A little.”
“You mean, you want the perks of a relationship, but none of the commitment.”
As much as Tom wanted to console him, he couldn’t help biting back with the truth.
“Now you’re putting words in my mouth.”
“So you’re going to settle down and do honest work, then? You’re going to be open with me? No more secrets, no more lies?”
He rubbed circles against his back, hoping to even out the hostility. For once, he didn’t want to fight.
“I’m trying to get there, okay? I just…” The red head fidgeted uncomfortably in the truth. “I just owe some bells to a few people, but once I’ve paid that off, then I can--”
“Think I’ve heard this story before. You’ve always just had one debt standing in your way, yes?”
Redd got quiet, for once.
“You’re right,” he finally spoke. “You’ve got no reason to trust me. But, I mean, let’s just fantasize for a bit. Say I did, for once, stand by my word.”
“You mean you actually, truly, change your life around?” Tom mulled. “I mean, I’m not about to propose,” he said pointedly, “but I’ll let back you in. You really change yourself around, I might make you the damn mayor.”
“Don’t say that," Redd pouted. "That means you’re not taking me seriously.”
“And why should I take you seriously?”
“Because I’m being serious!”
The red in his face nearly matched the red in his hair, and his tail, re-emerging despite his promise to keep it in check (it was too damn hot for tails, Tom had complained).
“Okay, you want to be serious?” Tom turned slightly on his side. “I don’t just buy into promises alone anymore. You want more than this, you have to prove you’re a good investment.”
“Challenge accepted,” Redd grinned. His tail nestled unconsciously against Tom’s lower back.
“Oh no, no tail business when it’s this hot,” Tom scolded, grabbing Redd’s tail.
Which led to a whole other mess of trouble.
--
Tom hadn’t thought much about their last conversation, chalking it up to foreplay and Redd’s typical antics. He liked to talk, that was for sure. Tom had given up on dividing fact from fiction, having decided to keep their trysts solely in the realm of recreation.
So when he walked downstairs to his main office a week later to find a certain redhead standing at the counter, holding a mysterious cardboard box and bearing a crooked smile, it took every bit of resolve to resist spitting out his coffee.
“Just the man I’m waitin’ to see!” he cried, awkwardly nestling the large box against his hip. “I’m looking to get a permit. Isabelle here tells me you’re the guy in charge of that.”
He winked at his bubbly blonde coworker, who smiled indecipherably. She always appeared blithely unaware, but Tom suspected she knew far more than she let on.
Tom recomposed himself, taking a deep breath before setting his mug on his desk.
“You want to do the paperwork for a permit?” he asked.
“Yessir, I wanna do it all legal-like!” Redd reassured him. “Wanna, uh, sign a bunch of stuff.”
“Well then.” Tom opened a drawer in his file cabinet and leafed through the papers. “Let’s see, the regulations at sea are a bit different than on land...”
“Oh, I’m not lookin’ to get the Treasure Trawler all licensed up. Pirate stuff ain’t meant for regulations,” he explained. “I wanna set up a new shop in the plaza!”
“W-well, that’s, uh, that’s wonderful!” Tom stuttered, pleasantly surprised by Redd’s turn of heart. “What would you like to sell?”
“Glad you asked!” Redd set the box on the counter, opened it, and held up a smaller, colorful box covered in pictures of sparkly white starbursts. “What every premiere island destination needs in the summer--some good old fashioned, top of the line fireworks!”
“Ooh, I love fireworks!” Isabelle clapped. “What kinds do you have?”
“Well let’s see," he said, shuffling through his box and showing off an array of flashy packages. "I’ve got some standard firecrackers, sparklers, roman candles, and for the big guys, there’s some whirlwinds, dragon’s eggs, and you’ve gotta see these willows I got. All different colors, all different styles--I’ve got something for everyone!”
Isabelle looked overblown with excitement. “I don’t know what any of that means, but I love it!”
Tom cleared his throat. “That’s all very interesting, Redd. If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk a little bit more about your business endeavors. In private.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Nook,” he winked.
Tom lifted the divider between his world and the resident’s world, then walked wordlessly through the final door dividing his work life from his personal life. Tom’s private office. He’d supposed they'd end up here eventually. Redd was like a poison spreading through his body, infecting every part of his life.
“Have you hit your head recently?” Tom asked as soon as the door closed.
Redd placed the box on the ground gently before rebuking with a dose of his own snark.
“What?? I’m just tryin’ to start an honest business, like you said!”
“And you pick the most dangerous merchandise outside of actual weapons?” Tom closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Look, these babies are genuine, factory made, regulation grade fireworks. Says so right on the box,” he pointed, “they work or your money back!”
“Great, so they’re guaranteed to set my island on fire.”
“Ya know what, I think you’re the one who hit your head recently.” Redd crossed his arms. “You’re acting like I’m trying to sell bombs out here. Fireworks are essential goods! Can’t have a summer festival without ‘em.”
“Do you--can you even conceptualize the regulations regarding explosives?” Tom asked, torn between throwing him against the wall and continuing the conversation like an adult. “I’m not just making this up, you know.”
Redd shrugged, shifting just a bit closer.
“Look, I’m trying to start a legitimate business here, I really am. But whaddaya want from me? You want me to set up in the plaza and sell books? I’d get bored with that in a week,” he scoffed.
“Don’t we both know that,” Tom agreed, eyes on the ceiling.
Redd bit his lip, acknowledging the fair swing at his own past. “I’m changing, I swear, but I gotta sell something with a hint of danger. Just a little risk. It’s like they say, you can take the fox outta the streets, but you can’t take the streets outta the fox.”
“Who says that?”
“I did, just now.”
Tom closed his eyes and exhaled.
“You need more persuasion?” Redd asked, leaping up to perch on the back of a folding chair.
“How do you think the residents of your fair little island are gonna feel when there’s no summer fireworks? Think they’ll listen to some BS about regulations?” Redd scoffed, settling back into his familiar conman script. “Fat chance, Nookie. People love fireworks. You saw how your cute little assistant back there reacted!”
“Coworker,” Tom corrected. “She’s not my assistant.”
Most of the time, he felt like Isabelle was the one actually in charge. He was just the guy who counted the money and occasionally built a bridge.
“Sorry, coworker,” Redd nodded. “You think she’ll be delighted to hear you’ve scared me off? How many vendors you think’ll be coming around here offering quality pyrotechnics?”
Tom gritted his teeth, resisting his impulses. This was a normal business meeting. He should react fairly. Pondering over what he said, he could tell he did, irritatingly, have a point. Isabelle had looked elated, even more so than usual. He couldn't think of disappointing her.
“You’ve got sparklers?” he asked.
“In every color, every size!” Redd exclaimed proudly.
He nodded. Sparklers he could handle. “How about smoke bombs? And those, uh, things that snap when they hit the ground?”
“Poppers?”
“Sure.”
“Got a load of those,” Redd said, opening up his box to peer into the contents. “Good n’ cheap, and the kids love ‘em.”
“Yeah, the twins love those.”
Redd perked up. “Oh man, I’ve got some ‘works that’ll really make the kids go wild! Just you wait.”
“Just not too wild,” Tom warned. “Seriously. You’re on thin ice. You start small, we'll see about working up to the, uh, big ones.”
“I’ll be good,” he promised.
He planted a kiss on his cheek, effectively dispelling Tom’s attempt at a ‘business-only’ meeting.
“Yes, yes.” Tom nudged him out, skin burning.
Once back in the spotlight, Redd couldn’t help asking one last cheeky question.
“So, should I come back here to drop off the papers, or just wait till you come around tonight?” he asked with a wink.
“All permits are processed in resident services,” Tom answered between gritted teeth.
“Got it, captain.” He gave a faux-salute as he backed out of resident services, off to do god-knows-what. “See ya in a few hours!”
“Are you really going to give him a permit?” Isabelle asked once the doors swung shut.
“If he does the paperwork correctly and honestly, I’ll give him the same chance I give everyone,” Tom answered, shuffling a stack of papers on his desk.
“You’re so fair, Mr. Nook,” Isabelle said with admiration. “I probably would’ve told him to hit the road. He’s such a shifty fellow. But I’m glad we’ll have fireworks soon!”
She laughed to herself, perhaps unaware of the flames igniting Tom’s body.