Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

By RainbowBarnacle and VastDerp

Chapter 1: I'm not just disobedient, I'm careful can't you see?

It is autumn and all is glorious. Summer is over and mother earth is slowing right the fuck down and getting her chill on, offering up wafts of damp, cool breezes and thick overcast clouds that feel like a big comforting blanket.

Gamzee loves it. He is sitting in the grass, playing with a wooly bear, when Ms. Peixes approaches from behind.  

 “Hey, Gamzee, whatcha got there?”  

 “Oh, hey, I up and made a new friend, see?” He lets her see how the wee brown and black fuzzy thing motors across his cupped palms and grins at her resulting squeak and charmed, widened eyes. “I'ma name him Buddy Rich.”  

 “Where'd you get him?”  

 Gamzee blurts a laugh and abruptly twists his hand as the caterpillar makes a break for his flannel sleeve. “Fuuuck, no no no, little bro, you stay the fuck out of my shirt. There. Uh, I rescued him from Eridan after the silly motherfucker found it crawling on his pant leg and started screaming and shit, heheh.”  

“Oh! Oh dear.” She is not entirely successful at hiding the trembly giggle in her voice, and Gamzee grins wider at her as he lets the caterpillar dangle from one finger. “Ah, well, if you're willing to abandon Buddy for the time being, I need a favor from you!”  

 Gamzee lowers his hand and tilts his palm until the ripply creature finds itself in the grass once more. “Sure, what's up?”  

 “Weeeell...” Her grin has a bit of a wince in it. Her brows furrow upward. “As you might know, Mr. Nitram's birthday is coming up and we were hoping to surprise him with a cake, but the one Mr. Egbert donated to us seems to have gone... missing.”    

Gamzee's brows shoot up. “Whoafuck, really? Were you all looking in the dumbwaiter?”  

 “Uh, we don't have a dumbwaiter, Gamzee.”  

 “Shiiit, there's your problem. This place had a dumbwaiter, you'd find your cake in it.” She frowns and opens her mouth to speak, but he stiffens, his eyes widening as he holds up both hands. “Ooh, oh no, wait, the vent ducts. The motherfucking vent ducts, a cake could get its hide on in there and you wouldn't fucking know for months, man, like some kinda fierce bitchtits confection ninja.”  

 “... A cake ninja.”  

 “Yeah! Baked as shit.”  

 She stares at him a moment, then gives her head a little shake. “We'll let you know if we find anything. In the meantime, we were wondering, would you like to make Mr. Nitram a cake? Your cupcakes were a big hit at the last picnic.”  

Feferi is grinning broadly and shushing him before he's through with his sentence. “Eeee, okay, okay, that's wonderful, Gamzee, thank you so much, but remember it's a surprise—” She glances pointedly further down the path, where Tavros is not so much enjoying a stroll as much as being the pace car at a one-man foot race. Beside him, Gamzee can see but not hear Sollux chattering at top speed, his hands gesticulating all over the place. “He can't know a thing."

Chapter Text

It's nice out. The maples that line the perimeter of the Lobaf grounds are just starting to take on that mellow firelight glow that comes right before it rains and turns every street into a flowing river of soggy brown leaf-muck. 

Anyone you ask, they'll tell you Tavros is a guy who can handle just about anything. Depending on who you ask, they'll either mention the spinal injury thing, or the septum piercing, both with the same sympathetic wince of pain. People who really know him will also talk about the time he went jousting at the local renfest and unhorsed every re-enactor that dared come up against him. And then broke his nose on the dismount. There are photos on the internet of Tavros Nitram smiling and throwing the horns, grinning through a curtain of crimson from both nostrils and both eyes already swelling up, surrounded by astonished and horrified people in corsets. That was a pretty awesome weekend.

So he's the intern at St. Lobaf, which means basically he helps out with everyday stuff. Household chores, poking residents about their schedules, talking to anyone who looks lonely, that sort of thing. The campus is completely accessible (one of the main reasons he first thought of working here) and except for one building, single-story. He gets around fine. Sometimes people want to push the chair, and he's usually okay with that, if they're a friend. He doesn't really like it when people take pity on him for being a cripple. They usually get the "I'm, uh, not a victim, I'm a survivor," speech, something he's more or less memorized in the past six years.

One thing he's not really great at yet is escorting the more trustworthy residents on their walks. During outdoor activity time, Equius is generally up the hill supervising his group while Feferi and the orderly whose name he doesn't know look after the rest. All he has to do is go along with his charge and bring them back by their check-in time. Usually this is no problem. The path is paved and the rolling is easy. He enjoys the company, mostly, and the chance to get away from the occasionally chaotic masses. There's no snow on his wheels, which is a luxury he'll soon be going without. The wind is sort of chilly, so Tavros has his wheeling gloves on and a nice heavy fisherman's sweater over his usual casual t-shirt. 

Sollux, however, will not wear a jacket. In his opinion, he declares, seasons are stupid things that happen to boring people. The way he sees it, the human body will adjust to just about anything you can do to it, and warm clothing is just another way of wasting time on stuff that doesn't matter. Valuable, valuable time that could be used so much more efficiently by getting out and doing something meaningful for the world. Like what? Who the fuck knows! It's nice out! Let's go!

It turns out that something meaningful is Solluxese for "walk as fast as you can while describing the finer points of the D&D character alignment system." Tavros likes to think he's pretty good at being approachable by his residents, and he's known Sollux for a while now, but at the moment all he has to do to fill his role is keep up and look affronted on behalf of Gary Gygax.

"--and then the mitherable athhole actually had the ballth to whine about hith preciouth ten point thythtem, like anyone not currently vomiting up hith own liquefied brainth would even be caught dead partithipating in a Palladium campaign, what ith he even thmoking and can i get thome, I mean okay I wouldn't really thmoke anything, I'm not into that, but it wath funny at the time and anyway tho yeah he wath being a dumbath tho I told him why with like thixth bullet pointth outlining where hith entire argument goeth thtraight up hith own athh, and the mitherable little thperglord--okay, okay, I know, that'th pejorative and demeaning to people with autithm, I know, thorry, tho the guy got all poopthocky at me like he hath any room to be telling me about tabletop gaming when he probably thinkth attacking the darknethh with magic mithhileth ith thtill the funnietht joke in the univerthe, oh my god it'th like, did thome inthane grocery thtore clerk put thomething in your two liter bottle of Mountain Dew thith morning or are you jutht twelve yearth old--"

Tavros debates the best way to defuse this manic time bomb. They're nearly back to the rec building now. Up the hill, Gamzee and Feferi Peixes (the dorm head for the female wing) are bending down to examine something in Gamzee's hand.

"--but anyway I wath talking about thith apiculture idea, not gaming. Haha, oh my god, I think I can really make thith work, do you have any idea how much Microthoft would pay for a working apiculture prototype, it would completely change the way buthinethheth prothethh their tranthactionth, I thought of it when I wath in the shower thith morning, I can't believe how EATHY it would be to jutht put the thing together. I could even do it here on the groundth, maybe cut you guyth in on the profitth for helping me get my head on thtraight enough to finally get that latht piethe I needed to make thith whole thing FINALLY WORK, then you could afford to treat anybody who needed it inthtead of jutht the oneth whothe insuranthe would pay for it--"

Tavros always feels a little bad when people get these grand ideas, only to lose them again when the high wears off. Yeah, this is going to be one of those weeks. He makes a mental note to tell Equius to keep Sollux out of the computer lab. They can't lose another terminal, they're over-budget as it is...

"Hey! Feferi and Gamzee!" Tavros calls, still a little too far away for proper conversation, but the thing about Sollux is you have to take any gap you can get or end up stalled out in the ten-car pileup of his latest monologue.

Feferi, who was already watching them when he yelled, hears the desperation in his voice and takes in the situation with a quirky little smile. Her eyes seem to say "Okay, mister, but you're gonna owe me one." 

He nods right back at her, grateful. It has been a very long day.

Chapter Text

“Good afternoon, Sollux. You're looking energetic today. Aren't you cold without a jacket, though?” 

Sollux expounds at length about the miracle of the human body and its myriad defenses, and for a moment or two Gamzee is lost in it—not just all the astounding shit the body can up and do, but the sound of it, how Sollux can rant at such speed and still be understandable, all without seeming to need to breathe. The brother is vibrating, all sharp movements and just a hint of too-bright, wide-eyed tension.   

In contrast, Tavbro looks kinda tired, and there's something about how he rubs his forehead that makes him think maybe his favorite wheelbrother has heard this shit once before.   

“Yo Sollux, I'm all wondering if you could to be helping me fix some shit in the kitchen?” 

“And don't even get the thtarted on the idiots who think—what? Thomthing's broken?” 

 Ms. Pexies smiles and shakes her head. “Oh, no, Gamzee was just wanting a hand with a secret project.” 

Tavbro looks at Gamzee quizzically and his stomach drops. “Yeeeah, uh, it's wicked special, but I can't be telling nobody yet on account of it ruining all the motherfucking surprise, you know? Gotta keep it up under your hat and quietlike 'till the time's right.” 

“Okay, sure, fine, whatever.” Sollux is pacing, taking three agitated steps forward, then three back. “Lead the way, I'm on it.” 

“Hahahah, okay dude, let's get this party started—” He stills suddenly, his eyes widening as he remembers something. “Oh, shit, wait, hold up bro.” 

He is aware of the other three looking at him as he goes still and scans the ground. It couldn't have gotten far. He brightens as he spots what he's looking for and crouches, scooping the wooly bear back into his hands before he turns toward Tavbro. Bending close, foreheads almost touching, Gamzee grins as he takes one of his gloved hands and gently tips the caterpillar into his palm. 

He gasps. “Aww! Oh man, look at it, this is so cute,” 

“Heheh, yeah, little motherfucker ain't even got his wings on. You take good care of him for me, he has a lot of wintering to do.” 

“Okay Gamzee, I will, and, um, have fun with your project,” 

“Heheh, you bet.” 

Sollux is already tugging at Gamzee's arm, leaving him little choice but to rise and stumble backwards a few steps, flashing them both a brief, giddy grin before he turns to walk rightways.   

The primary kitchen at St. Lobaf is off-limits to residents, for all the obvious reasons. Also because the food prep staff can be somewhat possessive of what they see as their territory. No one wants to see a feral lunch lady. It's just not cool. But because St. Lobaf is structured to bridge that fiddly stage between intensive hospitalization and outpatient treatment, it has quite a well-equipped rehabilitation program.

The main goal of St. Lobaf is to ease residents who are nearing release back into the routine of their daily lives and provide longer-term residents with meaningful routine. No one gets to use the training kitchen without direct supervision from a staff member. No knives, no glass, no access to the oven or stovetop (which is kept locked) without staff assistance.

Access to the kitchen is restricted to residents who have accumulated five or more points for good behavior on the Lobaf token system. A sufficiently trustworthy resident can be allowed to cook for other people as part of therapy, or on special occasions.

Like birthdays.

The training kitchen is a little like a high school home economics classroom, immaculately clean and in perfect order, a sort of white and silver playhouse kitchen writ large. Plastic mixing bowls have already been set out on the main prep counter. Silicone french whisk, wooden mixing spoons, an electric mixer that looks about two thousand years old.

There is no fridge here, so Gamzee makes a list of the ingredients they will be needing and hands it to Feferi. She smiles and heads through the door to the main kitchen to raid the pantry.

Gamzee sizes up their supervising staff. Huge shoulders on the dude like a linebacker. He has a completely forgettable face, velvet-fuzzed blond hair shaved way down on his sunburned pink head and he looks bored as fuck and maybe a little bit hostile. Gamzee cannot imagine why any motherfucker would be working here with a face like that. Dude doesn't have a name tag, so Gamzee decides to call him New Guy.

He makes a mental note to get New Guy's story out of him, see if he can make that face quit harshing the fuck out, then promptly forgets all about it as Feferi appears in the doorway with an armload of cake components in a big brown bag.

She's really pretty with that smile and her eyes bright like some kind of cute little cartoon goldfish or something with big eyelashes. New Guy should take notes from Feferi on how to be happy with your kickass existence.

"The flour's in the top cupboard, boys. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?" she says, and they unload the bag onto a table with little rolly wheels. The eggs try to all up and roll their way to freedom, but those motherfuckers aren't going anywhere but down to the hard-ass floor. Hold up, guys, that's no way to have a fuckin' adventure. He catches the escaping eggs just in time and makes them a little nest out of a dish towel. 

"Looks good, sister," he tells her. "Leave this shit to us." And she thanks him again and goes off to do her thing. Her skirt looks kind of like a goldfish tail, all floaty and frilly like fuckin' gold and yellow fins with little speckles of glitter like stardust all over the place. He'd totally wear that shit. Maybe he should be one of those crossdressers and get his femclown on. Maybe rock some pigtails and bangle bracelets too. This makes him smile.

All this time Sollux is asking New Guy question after question about his job and not letting him answer any of them. That's probably a good thing, since New Guy doesn't look like he's even listening. Sollux is all kinds of excited about life. That's cool. Life is cool. It's a shame it's all pathological and shit when twitchy bro gets his optimism on like that. Maybe Gamzee should get him buzzed sometime and see if that don't calm his tits right the fuck down and save staff the trouble of chasing his ass around the game room.

Then he thinks, buzzed. Bees. Buzzed.

Whoaaaaa.

This has to happen. It's destiny.

But first, gotta get his bake on for his best Tavbro's motherfucking birthday.

Gamzee strips off his flannel jacket, ties back his hair with his favorite purple scrunchy, and starts washing his hands. By the door, New Guy is telling Sollux to go help the clown and let him do his job. That's all right. New Guy ain't been here long enough to know talking to a brother is his job. Twitchy bro comes over and stares down at the table full of ingredients. He folds his arms and frowns. “Tho, what exactly are we doing?” 

Gamzee grins. “We're baking a motherfucking cake."

“...You're kidding me.” 

“No man, no joke. His first cake all up and absconded, so I'm making up another one. Can't have a brother kicking the birthday shit with no cake, that's just wrong right there.” He opens the cupboards and scans the ingredients, bringing down a bag of flour carefully with both hands. “You ever bake a cake before?” 

“Fuck no. Dad 2 alwayth did that shit. Ith thith all you're doing in here?” 

Gamzee rummages as he talks, gathering mixing bowls, sugar, butter, eggs, milk, and a packet of food coloring on the counter. “Yeah! C'mon, let me school you, this is the easiest motherfuckin' thing in the world. Baking shit is the best kind of magic. They take that first bite and taste all the love and warmth and happiness you put in, and aw man, you can be spreading all kinds of love that way.” 

“You're theriouth.” 

“Nothing cures a case of the sads like a fresh brownie, man.” 

“Great. I thought I wath going to be building shit. Instead I'm thtuck with clown Julia Child.” 

 Gamzee grins at Sollux, then eyes the pile of supplies. “Think Tavbro likes chocolate?” 

Chapter Text

Holy shit, it's like he's in high school cooking class all over again, except instead of being paired up with a cripplingly gorgeous redheaded cheerleader who makes him wash all the dishes and doesn't share the scones he pretty much singlehandedly labored over,  Sollux is stuck with everyone's favorite fluffy-headed, greasepainted grinning imbecile. What’s he even supposed to be doing in here?

Sollux leans a hip against the counter, folds his arms, and stares, mystified, as Gamzee unwraps a stick of butter and set it on a small plate. He grabs two mixing bowls and a cake pan and sets them within arm's reach. “Nine by thirteen, bro. Perfect.” 

He prods at the mixer and Sollux feels himself bristle. What the fuck is this? The expression Gamzee wears isn't unlike watching some ancient crone pawing helplessly at a self checkout line  touchscreen. His brows furrow, a little confused frown tugging at his lips as he presses at the button and pokes at its plastic sides as if that might wake it up.

Sollux pinches the bridge of his nose. “Ith it plugged in?”

Gamzee looks. “Yep. Huh. Guess it gave up the ghost.”

Sollux brightens. “No, wait, I could fixth it, it'th probably jutht the--”

But Gamzee is smiling gently and shaking his head as he steps in his space. “Wait, it's cool, you don't gotta be messin' with that.”

“But--”

“Naaah, that's gonna take forever. We gotta get this shit rollin', bro.” He presses a bowl into Sollux's arms and puts a wooden spoon into one flailing hand. “You can be my wicked mixer.”

“What.” Sollux contemplates the spoon as if he’s never heard of stirring before. “Gamthee, no way, I’m buthy--” He boggles as Gamzee drops the stick of butter from the plate into the bowl,completely ignoring the protests of his unwilling cohort. 

He can feel his mouth gaping in horror as Gamzee reaches for a small measuring cup at random, fills it to the brim with sugar, and carelessly dumps it into the bowl on top of the butter.

“Aren't you going to measure that?” Sollux feels his blood pressure rising as Gamzee simply stares blankly at him. “Did you even look to thee how much that wath?!” This is not cooking. This is chaos. If he has to stay in here and watch Gamzee commit blasphemous acts upon this kitchen and everything it stands for while wearing a fucking purple scrunchy in his hair, he is going to do a flying pirouette off the campus roof. At least then he might avoid the fate of actually having to eat any of this crazy cake. 

“Why would I all be doing that? Listen, you gotta work pretty fucking hard to mess up a cake recipe, you feel me? Just chill, man, I got it.”

Sollux makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. The way Gamzee reassures him is even more infuriating than if he'd been condescending or defensive. Nothing in life annoys Sollux more than the feeling of being handled by someone much calmer than himself. Especially someone who is currently wearing clown paint.

He is aware of his voice growing sharper, but the words are out before he can stop himself. 

“Oh my god. You're not kidding. Are you following a rethipe at all?”

Gamzee serenely pours flour, salt, cocoa powder, and baking powder into his own bowl with familiar ease, and Sollux feels his heart seize up a little more with each new addition. This is just... No. This is not okay. He needs an adult. 

“I'm not needing to, man. I done it enough times, I know how it goes.” He grabs a spoon and begins blending the dry ingredients together, and Sollux actually feels his stomach drop a little in dismay. Oblivious, Gamzee gestures at him with the spoon. “Now help a brother out and stir the shit out of that.” 

Sollux knows when he’s defeated. He hisses a sigh through his fucked up front teeth and starts stirring like a good little automaton. The butter has softened enough that he soon has it smooshed into a paste, gritty with sugar crystals. He frowns as Gamzee wanders off to find their chaperone, who rises from the chair just outside the door and trudges in to unlock the oven. “Three seventy-five, New Guy, that should oughtta do it." Sollux glares at his back as New Guy jabs the buttons with sharp, irritated movements and engages the lock again.

Gamzee nods. “Hey, thanks man.”

New Guy merely mumbles a “Yeah.” as he returns to his seat and shoves in a pair of earbuds. Sollux can hear the tinny beginnings of some shitty grunge ballad from where he stands. 

“Jeezth, he'th worthe than Karkat. At leatht he hath thome tathte in muthic.” He whisks faster, ignoring the strain in his arm. “Yeth you thteroid binging athhole, I'm talking about you. Becauthe of nimrodth like you I got canned every Tuethday after P.E. It warmth my heart to know our thafety lieth in your thweaty, ham thithed  handth.”

Their grumpy chaperone doesn't show any signs of having heard a thing as he stares down at something in his hands. Gamzee snickers as he begins greasing the cake pan with the second stick of butter.

Sollux's arm aches. He wants to get back to his notes. Maybe he can leave after he finishes playing house. He holds out the bowl for Gamzee to see. “Ith thith done yet?”

“Nope. Keep on keepin’ on, twitchy bro.”

“Thtop calling me that, douchebag." 

“Right on, Solbro" Gamzee replies. Yeah, he’s going to forget again after about two seconds. 

Sighing, Sollux stirs faster. “Now?”

Gamzee glances over again. “Naw, keep goin'.”

Sollux glares. “Gamthee do I look like your fucking machine—”

“Brother, I saw you all buzzin' around Tavbro outside like some kinda flashy bluered hummingbird. You got all kindsa energy. Use it up.”

“RRRGGHHHHHH--”

Gamzee snorts a laugh and finally takes the bowl from his arms. “Okay, see look. You almost got it done. You gotta cream it 'till it looks all fluffy, see?” He tilts the bowl a bit and begins stirring briskly, and Sollux's eyes widen a bit—the happy moron moves like he's caught in some slowmo timewarp so much of the time that it's downright startling to see his arm move in such rapid, practiced strokes.

It only takes a few seconds. When the butter is suitably creamed, Gamzee takes an egg in each hand and simultaneously cracks them both into the bowl, miraculously managing not to get any shell bits in. He adds a dash of vanilla extract, and this time Sollux manages not to flinch.

Smiling, Gamzee puts the bowl back into his arms. “There you go, my sassy egg beater.”

Chapter Text

Sollux snorts. The trick with the eggs was pretty good, at least. “Tho, who taught you to do all thith, anyway?" 

Gamzee dusts the greased pan with flour. "Melissa, my fine little bee girl. Her parents owned a bakery, she worked there, taught me all kindsa shit." 

Sollux blinks. It's hard to imagine Gamzee shacked up with anybody. "Bee girl?" 

Gamzee turns and grins at him, peering into the bowl to gauge Sollux's progress. "Melissa's a name that's all meaning 'honey bee.'" That grin widens knowingly as Sollux's brows rise. Gamzee breathes a sigh and shakes his head, gazing off into nothing. "Mmh, yeah, brother, she was all kinds of sweet." 

"... Wath?" 

"We broke up not long before I got here." 

"Let me guethh, she got tired of waking up covered in greathepaint and Faygo?" 

"Nah man, Missy was all kinds of down with the clown. And angel dust too, turns out. Bad times, bro." 

"Holy shit."

"Yeah, that's kinda why I up and split. She'd get wild high and not remember shit the next morning. Here, set that down a sec." Sollux does, and Gamzee pours a careful amount of the blended dry ingredients in before handing the bowl back.

"Sometimes she'd lock me out thinking I was with the FBI." He snorts and rolls his eyes, grinning, spreading his hands palms up, as if addressing some kindly higher power. "It's just... why, girl? Why you gotta be snorting in that shit and then strangle my ass at two in the motherfucking morning?"

It isn't until Gamzee glances down at the bowl in Sollux's hands that Sollux realizes he's stopped stirring. For once, he's paying full attention to Gamzee. 

"She THTRANGLED you?!" 

Gamzee's eyes widen. "Nah man, not all the way."  

"What the fuck, Gamthee." Sollux resumes his sassy eggbeating duties. 

Gamzee shrugs and grins. "I dunno. What is it even about crazy chicks that makes them the best in the sack? Swear to god, bro, I saw colors that ain't even real." 

This conversation has just lost cabin pressure. Sollux nearly drops the bowl in mid-stir. "Uh. I wouldn't know." Sex. Gamzee is talking about sex. What the hell. How is this happening to him? 

Gamzee gives him a funny sort of squinty look. "Aw, c'mon, man, you musta got down with some fine chica." He stops as it dawns on him, and winces. "Oh, wait, shit, you like dudes, right. Sorry." 

"Mothtly." Sollux stares down into the mixture, which has begun to take on a weird brown gloppy uniformity. "Thtatement thtill thtandth." 

Gamzee snickers. "Hey man, you're all up in this place, maybe you're the crazy motherfucker someone else is talkin' about what's dynamite in bed." 

Sollux makes a small inarticulate sound and brandishes the bowl in Gamzee's face to distract his partner in culinary crime from the fact that his cheeks are stinging. "Ith thith done yet?" 

"Chiiill, just chill, we still gotta be adding more shit." Gamzee turns away briefly to fill the measuring cup with milk, then pours it in. "Your arm getting tired, bro?" 

"A little."  

"Gimme." Sollux hands over the bowl. Gamzee picks up stirring without missing a beat. Inside of a minute he manages to blend in the rest of the milk and the dry ingredients, beating the batter to a frothy brown. "Yeah, so, after a couple weeks of this noise I'm deciding she ain't the girl I was all lovin' on no more, so I packed up a bag and went to catch a Greyhound." 

"Did she flip her shit when you dumped her?" Against his will, Sollux finds himself being drawn into this story. 

Gamzee pours the batter mixture into the pan, then scrapes the sides of the bowl with a spatula. "Yeah, man, she cut me up good." 

"Chritht. Ith that what happened to your fathe?" Sollux hasn't spoken much to Gamzee before today, but he's heard the gossip. One past resident, some pigtailed blonde girl with an eating disorder, swore up and down that she heard from another resident that he did it to himself to look more like the Joker. Which Sollux promptly informed her was completely stupid, because the Joker looks nothing like that. Anyone who read even, like, one issue of Batman would know the difference between a Chelsea Smile and whatever the juggalo has going on with his face. 

"Yep. She all caught me on the way out and grabbed one of those fucking scary claws on a stick you use what to fuck with your miracle compost pile." 

"Oh my god." This is way more fucked up than the rumor where he was tripping in the woods and got mauled by a mountain lion. 

"Shit, man. Didn't hurt any. I lit up before I left, hahaha. I was all 'my face ain't a garden, sister', and she threw one of those little shovels at me and missed." 

Sollux shakes his head. "Dude. Have you ever dated a normal girl? Or dude, I guethh. Whatever." 

"What even is normal, twitchy bro?" 

"Uh, normal? Like, not pthychotic? You know, when they don't thlash your fathe wide open with a garden rake?" 

"Heheh. I guess, man. Nobody since my pretty bee, though."  

The conversation dies an awkward death as Gamzee carries the pan full of glop to the oven and sets it gently on one of the locked burner tops. Sollux decides the stuff looks like something you'd scrape out of your boots after a long slog through the Swamps of Sadness, and he shudders. This is no way to bake. This is biological warfare. Clearly. You have to do this shit by the book. Okay, those cupcakes had been pretty good, but he does not have high hopes for this adventure. Gamzee is a painted lunatic who cuddles indiscriminately with caterpillars and face-slashing junkies. And he's a clown. 

Sollux has hated clowns since before he can remember. Those fixed dead smiles like the way chimps grin before they pull your face off and eat it. Why is everything gross and face-mutilatey today? This is stupid. One of the lights is buzzing. This was such a bad idea. He wants to get back to his programming. He has the entire apiculture idea laid out crystal-clear in his head and nowhere to write it down. It's so amazing the way inspiration can just hit you over the head sometimes. The hexagram data structures glow honey-gold in his head whenever he shuts his eyes, every detail bright and precise. Efficient.

He got the original idea from studying beehives as a kid, and it's taken him years to refine his lame-ass sketches and diagrams into something plausible. He's fucked up a lot of computers trying to figure it out, but it will be worth it in the end. This time he's got it, he knows he's seriously really finally fucking got it. He is going to bankrupt Intel so hard.

Should he play the stock market? No, he doesn't have that kind of money, and he's not asking his dads to support this when they spend enough just keeping him in therapy and meds. Sollux will pay them back when he's got a working prototype to patent.

How do you patent something? Why doesn't that light stop buzzing? It's not so bad hanging out with Gamzee, come to think of it. The guy might be painted like a juggalo and he does that creepy thing where he can lick his own elbow but there's a distinct lack of stench to the guy and he doesn't seem to have a mean bone in his body. And he's kind of interesting, in a trainwreck Jerry Springer sort of way. Why's he even here? Probably burned out from all the drugs. That's rude. Don't ask him about it. Poor guy can't help-- 

"Tho, like, did you fry your brain on athid or thomething?" Fuck. Shit. Why did he say that out loud? "Why did I thay that out loud?" Argh. Stop talking, FUCK. Slow down, brain. The light is making him insane. It's the stupid light's fault. Brain. Insane. That rhymes. Oh god stop thinking. What if he gets so distracted he forgets something vital before he can write it down and GODDAMN IT WHY IS GAMZEE TALKING AGAIN? Because you asked him a question, retard! Stop drumming on the countertop and listen! 

"I dunno, bro. Maybe!" Gamzee shrugs. "I done that LSD shit a couple times, but I never saw God or nothin'. Mostly just a lot of trippy shit like my roomie's titty magazine girls looked like they were all breathin' on the page. Made me feel kinda like a dirty old man all of a sudden, like I was spyin in at 'em with their clothes off. Drew some wicked bras on those fine sisters so they wouldn't be cold and when roomie saw what I did he busted out laughing and forgot to kick my ass for like ten minutes. Shit, and I carried around a rubber mallet for like an entire weekend one time but I never did figure out what for."  

He leans against the warm oven and licks a stray smear of chocolate batter off the back of his hand. "They think maybe I fucked something up for good, yeah. Maybe. Or maybe I was already fucked up and it just got worse? Ask my headshrinker, man, I don't know that shit." He checks the wall clock. "Fuck, look at that. Tempus fuckit or however that fancy Latin mess goes, this motherfucker's all kinds of preheated. Go get New Guy to unlock this shit so we can get our bake on."

Chapter Text

Sollux sneaks over to the chair in the doorway, where their supervising orderly is hunched over his iPhone, typing slowly with the tip of one blunt meaty finger and looking utterly absorbed. Sollux is instantly suspicious. He knows internet fuckery when he sees it.

Tinny drumbeats and guitar squeaks from the chaperone's earbuds--where'd he buy those things, the Dollar Store? Christ, at least ruin your hearing with something actually decent. Man, Sollux misses his stereo setup at home. He's got the entire basement wired for surround sound and a subwoofer that could shake the fillings out of people's teeth if he ever dared to unleash their raw power. Maybe someday when his dads are out he'll crank some D&B and watch the family photos walk off the mantelpiece. That would be goddamned awesome.

It turns out New Guy is texting his girlfriend about his dick.

Sollux leans in for a closer look. He needs to get his prescription updated, these glasses are bullshit. Next time he's out of the nuthouse he's going straight to the optometrist. Maybe get some bifocals. Wait, he's supposed to be getting the oven unlocked so Gamzee can abuse the cake a little more. 

Sollux unceremoniously tugs the shitty dollar store earbud out of New Guy's left ear, ignoring the startled grunt as the orderly jumps about a mile. 

"It'th u-r-e-t-h-r-a-l, dude," he tells the now purple-faced orderly. He gestures at the iPhone. "What the fuck, you got that shit pierthed at home? It'th gonna get infected and fall off, for fuck'th thake! I knew this one guy--" New Guy takes a breath and prepares to commit an assault. Sollux does not notice the peril into which he has placed himself. His mind is on cautionary tales of penile disaster.

"The cake, bro, the cake!" comes Gamzee's voice from the kitchen. 

"Right, right, right, the cake. New Guy, we need the oven and we're too crathy to do it ourthelveth. There'th deliciouth birthday miracleth going on in there, or thomething. I wathn't really paying attention. Your mission ith clear."

Gamzee watches this exchange unfold. It's fascinating how much you can see a motherfucker's feelings in how he moves. New Guy looks like all the punches he wants to throw at twitchy bro, but he just pockets his phone and stomps into the kitchen with his keys already in hand. He unlocks the oven door and steps back. "Put it in, kid." He snaps. Dude is all kinds of wound up. 

The little bouncy bits of hair that got away from Gamzee's favorite scrunchy go dancing around in the hot breeze from the oven as he bends down and slides the Tavcake onto the rack. "Sweet deal, motherfucker," he says, "That's the hard part done. You want to chill with Twitch and me while we wait? Got some cold-ass sodas in the machine out there."

New Guy doesn't even answer. He locks the oven again and stomps back to his chair, where he settles with an aggravated sigh and makes more than the necessary movements required to put his earbuds back in. He returns to the iPhone, but his stiff shoulders clearly show how pissed off he is.

"Oh my god, that guy ith thuch a complete douchecanoe," Sollux snorts.

"Nah, man, it's all good. Beefcake motherfucker just got some heavy shit on his mind, I bet."

Twitchy giggles like a little girl, which is sort of cute. "Yeah, like Aryan Nation Pothter Boy Junior rotting off."

"Whoa," Gamzee says. "That shit you just said makes no goddamn sense, Solbro. You oughtta be a poet."

Sollux makes this affronted recoil, like he just up and smelled something awful, and it looks so funny on his face that Gamzee can't help but blurt a laugh.

"What? No. No. Shut up. Poetry is a ludicrouth wasthe of time. What can you do with poetry? Abtholutely nothing utheful, that'th what. Onthe I had to take this clathh and it wath nothing but deprethhed teenagerth writing shitty thongth and thonnetth about their dead childhoodth and lotht innothenthe and firtht thexual exthperienth and theriouthly I thought I was going to hurl." 

Sollux looks all kinds of strung out, his arms all flaily as he paces. His eyes are just a bit too fixed in their intensity, and it makes Gamzee wonder how long it's been since the poor motherfucker got any sleep. He finds himself wishing again he could give him something to wind him down.  

"Aww, but listen, bro, some poetry is speaking to you, you know? My man Rumi is making some motherfucking art, bro, you don't even have any idea--"

"--You want art, I'll show you art, what I got planned is nothing short of amathing--" Sollux reaches past him to snag a paper towel, then pats his pockets. "Shit, I don't have a pen." He whirls and Gamzee has to dodge a sharp elbow as Sollux stalks toward where New Guy is adjusting one of his earbuds.

"YO. New Guy, make yourthelf utheful and tell me you have a fucking pen. Hey. Hey--"  

The earbud falls out of New Guy's ear. Gamzee sees his spine stiffen. Oh shit. He grabs Sollux's arm. "Uhh. Whoa, hey, it's cool, it's fine, bro, let's just leave the brother alone and you can just be telling me."

New Guy frowns over one shoulder. Gamzee grins at him before moving to steer Sollux back to the counter. Sollux doesn't bristle like he usually does; he is bright eyed and focused on the plan blossoming in his head.

"Okay, tho, it'th like thith. Themiconductors are dead, okay? let'th jutht put that on the table where everyone can thee it. It'th bullshit, a fucking blind alley for illiterateth and ludditeth too thcared to take a rithk by trying thomething new and different. Let Grandma thurf ebay for antiqueth with her dinky little 4GHz laptop, how'th that shit for poetic? Okay. Okay. Tho the big thing right now ith, do we thtick with the bullshit thilicon paradigm and try to drethh up that turd like the retht of the rubeth have been doing for the patht decade, or do we think big? Gamthee, I'm thinking big." 

Gamzee nods seriously, because that's what twitchy bro is doing. All those syllables are like a hard rain falling all on his head, but it sounds nice. 

"Right. Tho my idea. Okay. Like, you know feng shui? It'th like that. The key is a thixth-thided lanthanum array. Microthcopic. I've been working on thith for like five yearth with no rethultth, and then the dethign finally jutht came to me out of nowhere. Bam. And okay, yeah, it'll be exthpenthive ath fuck to thwitch over to apiculture, but we're talking about enough procethhing power and thpeed to bathically run the entire government of a dethent-thithed country, all thtuck on a ribbon the thithe of your little finger. Uncle Tham will foot the bill, no problem. It'th going to change the world. I'm going to have enemieth fucking everywhere." 

"Hahaha, fuck, man, I wish I had any idea what you were all on about because it sounds bitching." 

"Yeah, if I can thpend more than five fucking minutes in the lab without Equiuth lothing hith huge thweaty shit, I could finally get thomething thrown together. I'm gonna blow Apple right out of the water. Thteve Jobth will shit hith pantth, ehehehe."

"Wicked! Who's Steve Jobs?"

Sollux snickers. "Wow, you really don't know anything, do you? Have you even been in the computer lab?"

"I been in there a few times. Tavbro is all suggesting I learn how to use the computer at least a little bit so's I can search for jobs and look up shit." Gamzee says. "Fuzzy little typing tutor's been kicking my ass, though, man. My fingers ain't even clever enough to punch all them keys at once like that, and then the kitten is all falling out of the tree and I'm all 'Fuck, get your climb on little bro, I'll get this home row shit sorted' but I haven't up and beat it yet."

Sollux stares, a slow, amazed smile pulling at his lips. "... Oh my god. You are preciouth. Okay, after my prototype is finished I am making it my perthonal mithhon to mold you. I will take you to thchool, Gamthee, and thoon you will know everything." 

"Aw, shit, really?"

"Ath adorable ath it ith to imagine you bumbling around the interwebth like thome newborn baby puppy, thomebodyth got to show you the ropeth. Elthe I'll lie awake at night dreading the moment you wander onto 4chan and come to me athking 'Tholluckth, what'th Goatthe?'"

"Goatthe?"

"Ehehehehe, exthactly."

Chapter Text

Gamzee crosses his lanky arms and wrinkles his nose. "So, you want the dishes or the wipedown?"

"Huh?"

"Clean as you go, brother." Gamzee gestures at the wrecked prep counter.  "You get to call dibs on account of you're all picky like that."

"Oh. Disheth then, I guethh."

Gamzee nods and stacks the used bowls, measuring cups and other assorted implements of destruction next to the sink. "Let's get our house elf on, Twitchy."

"...Houthe elf?" 

"You know, like in Harry Potter where that kid's all casting spells and shit?"

"You're a fucking Rowling fanboy." 

"Aw hell yeah. I dig that little motherfucker 'cause he's all scarred up like a lightning bolt with geek-as-fuck glasses and beats the fuckin' dark lord. Little bro growin' up all lost and sad til he meets some fine-ass new friends that ain't judging! I dig the fuck out of that kinda magic shit." 

Sollux feels like he should not be surprised at this point by anything Gamzee reveals about himself, yet somehow the revelations just keep coming. "Me too, I guethh."

"I wish I had a pet fuckin' owl that brought my mail." Gamzee grins and Sollux can see every one of his teeth. They're very white. "And some bitchtits wizard powers. Tzzzt!" Gamzee makes a magic wand gesture with an unused mixing spoon, tosses it into the sink, and chuckles. "Fuckin' miracles, man."

Sollux shakes his head as he scrubs out a mixing bowl, amused. "Don't let Eridan know you like HP if you value your thleep, Gamthee."

"What? Why not?" Gamzee reseals the flour and sugar and packs the used ingredient containers back into the brown bag, clearing the prep counter.

"Becauthe he'th a complete Harmonian lunatic and will never thtop bitching."

Gamzee tears some sheets from the paper towel roll and gets to work wiping spilled flour and sugar and egg slime from the prep counter. "Eribro's got that writer shit going on, huh. Me, I just read it, I don't know what all's good and what ain't."

"Yeah, he'th a mathter of the craft, all right." Sollux brandishes the gooey mixing spoon. "By the dark moonth of Ab'fuckathh, I shall thlay the shit out of thith big fuckin' dragonlord."

"That was a pretty badass story," Gamzee agrees. "Eribro writes all from his heart like that. Wish I could write stories and be all creative."

"Ith that why you paint your fathe?" Sollux's hands are still wet from rinsing the dishes and he wipes them absently on the sides of his t-shirt. All at once he is standing close, peering, and Gamzee lets him. Sollux's brows furrow as if he's looking at a puzzle that doesn't quite fit together. "It'th not like it coverth up the thcarth. Or ith it jutht the juggalo thing?"

Gamzee cracks a grin. "Oh, haha, well, sorta. I picked it up when I was all learning about that shit, yeah, but mostly I'm wearing it because the wicked paints are an expression of what like my heart is to be feeling at."

“That’th the thame thing, though, ithn’t it? Exthprethhing yourthelf?” Sollux leans back and makes a face. “Even if your heart ith ‘feeling all like’ a clown, which ith honethtly a little weird.” 

“It’s all good in the hood, my brother. Now go get New Guy so’s we can take this shit out of the oven.”

This time Sollux is careful not to startle their chaperone, who is playing Bejeweled and sucking hard at it. He walks in front of New Guy's chair and waves a hand in his face to get his attention. 

“We need you again,” Sollux says, taking a step back. This brief moment of lucidity probably saves him from being exploded by the sheer glare of rage New Guy fires off at him. 

New Guy doesn’t even bother to take out his earbuds. He rises to his feet and storms into the kitchen, every movement just a little bit too aggressive, and brandishes his keys like he's trying to stab the oven lock to death. A blast of sweet-smelling heat rolls out as the door opens, and Gamzee bends down to check the cake with a poke from a butter knife. 

“Came out clean, shit yeah,” he says, and dons a pair of powder-pink oven mitts. “Thanks, big dude, we got this shit from here.” 

New Guy grunts and slams the oven shut. He jerks the key out of the lock, turns in one stiff movement, and stomps out of the kitchen. 

“Why do I get the feeling he’th kind of hoping we kill each other in here?” Sollux asks. “Like, thith thing ith hot ath fuck, and he’th not even looking. What if one of uth went crathy right now?” 

“Don’t even think about touchin’ that shit til it’s cool,” Gamzee scolds. “I’m not triflin’ with a busted-up cake and blisters ain’t no fun at all.” 

Sollux groans. “Thtealth punth are the wortht.” 

Gamzee does a little swagger of smartass pride as he sets the cake on the cooling rack. “A brother does his best, Sollux Captor.” 

Chapter Text

Between the two of them, the work of cleaning the kitchen is easy. Within minutes, the counter tops gleam. The dishes are dried and put away. Unfortunately, Gamzee explains, they still have some waiting to do before their miraclecake is ready for them to get their decorate on. He sits on a counter top, a bowl in his lap, and slowly peels back the lid to one of the icing containers. Inside is whipped buttercream sugary goodness, and he resists the urge to dip his tongue in. Lined up to his left are several tubes of colored icing and a container of garish rainbow sprinkles. 

He scoops icing into the mixing bowl with a rubber spatula and wonders what color the frosting should be. They've been out of red food coloring ever since John used it all in the Bathroom Bloodbath Scare three weeks ago (and got his ass put on restriction, that was fuckin' funny). Purple's a pretty color, but he remembers his favorite kittysis isn't all liking purple for some reason. Maybe a soft, happy blue...

He watches Twitchy Bro from the corner of his eye as he ponders. 

Sollux sits on the floor, back braced against the prep counter's shiny metal side. One leg is splayed out before him, the other tucked up so close that his chin rests on a pointy knee. He is tap-tap-tapping the floor with his chewed down, paint chipped little nails. The stretched out foot is all wiggling back and forth at the speed of light without him seeming to notice. 

It's clear scrubbing dishes hasn't even put a dent in all the pent up energy he's got going on; the brother is practically buzzing. 

Heheheh. Buzzing. That's never not going to be funny.

“Tho, do you know how to make thpecial caketh then?”

For a split second Gamzee has the absurd urge to laugh Sollux's timing. His mouth twitches a little, but he keeps it down.

“You mean cakes what gots pot up in'em? Sure, that shit's easy.”

Sollux shudders delicately and sticks his tongue out. “Bluh. That thounds tho dithgusthting.”

“Naw, bro, people are always thinking it's brownies with a bunch of green stuffed in it. All you do is mix it with butter together in a bowl, heat it up 'til it's all melted, then strain the weed out.” 

“Doeth it tathte any different?” Sollux jumps to his feet without warning and begins to pace the kitchen, looking for something to do with his hands. He settles for drumming his fingers along the countertop.

First can emptied, Gamzee sets the bowl aside and opens the second frosting can. “A little bit. Usually not bad, though. It's going pretty good with chocolate, actually.” He grins as Sollux punctuates his drumming with another bluh. “I knew one motherfucker who up and made those little crispy squares with it, said the high was all stronger that way.” He makes a face. “Tasted like shit, though.”

Sollux wrinkles his nose and glares at the cake on the cooling rack as if its very existence is suddenly a personal affront. He bounces on his heels like an impatient child. “God, thith ith boring. How much longer do we have to wait?”

“I'm not even remembering, man. Long damn time, though.” Gamzee cracks a grin; usually this had been the part where him and Missy had fooled around. “Like, almost an hour. It's all depending on how big the cake is and—hey.”

Twitchy Bro freezes in mid-step on the way to the door and for a second or two there's this startled little grimace on his face before it morphs into a scowl. “I'm not thitting on my ath for an hour, Gamthee. You can babythit the cake, I got shit to do. The world ith in dire need of upgradeth! Temputh fucking fugit!” He turns to leave again. 

Gamzee slides off the counter and spreads his hands. “Heeey, we're all in this together, bro, you can't be ditching me now.”

"Fuck that shit right in the ear," Solbro turns back, flashes his very smuggest asshole grin, and flips Gamzee a double eagle salute. "Watch me."

“You know New Guy's just gonna haul your bony little ass back in here." Gamzee grins. "C'mon, you want something to do, I'll give you something.” 

Sollux gives him a look that is less than convinced, but Gamzee feels a prickle of hope as the boy lets his hands drop fussily. Now he's drumming on his hipbones instead of the counter.

“No, really, this shit's the fun part.” Gamzee beckons and Sollux takes a few hesitant steps closer, clearly ready to bolt at any moment.

Gamzee begins rummaging in a drawer. He's lucky; there's still shit left over from when he made the cupcakes. He brings out wax paper, a container full of plastic decorating tips, and a few small clear plastic bowls for mixing colors in.

“Here, check this out, I'll show you something neat.”

Folding one of the wax sheets into a cone, Gamzee rummages until he finds the tip he wants and fastens it to the end. Smiling right back at Sollux's scowl, he grabs a red tube and a blue tube and begins painting alternating stripes of icing along the insides of the cone.

“Missy was all showing me this trick when she frosted up a wedding cake once.” Grabbing the second can, he takes the spatula and crams a wad of white icing inside before folding the top end closed. “This shit is all kinds of miraculous. It's like, all adding dimensions and shit and Sollux motherfucking Captor you best be marching your narrow behind right back in here and paying attention 'cause we're on a mission, my cakebrother.” 

Sollux makes a strangled noise in his throat, but reluctantly returns to watch Gamzee work. Gamzee smiles and, after making sure he has his full attention, squeezes a blob of frosting from the cone onto the wax paper. With deft, looping movements, he squeezes out several slightly wobbly blue and red streaked petals. Every once in a while he glances back to gauge Twitchy Bro's expression and finds him watching with a vaguely baffled look on his face.

"I thought you might be liking this part 'cause it's got numbers. You go one petal, then three more from that one, then five from them, then seven." He finishes with a little flourish and turns to show the completed sugar rose to Sollux. 

 "Okay, yeah, that'th pretty cool." Sollux admits. 

"Told you, bro. I got this shit on lock." Gamzee beams. "Tavbro's a good guy, he should get a fuckin' righteous cake that says all how we feel about him doin' his shit to make everyone's life better. Not enough motherfuckers caring like that about us fucked up bitches in here bangin' our heads on the wall and shit."  

"He'th been on thtaff thinthe the firtht time I came here," Sollux says. "He'th really... enthuthiathtic. I thtill don't even know what the fuck ith up with hith whole fairy magic thelf-ethteem thing. Theemth kinda preciouth but thomehow I don't want to punch him for it." 

 "Man, I love that goofy-ass motherfucker." Gamzee says. He hands Sollux the cone full of icing. "Plus he gave you that bee, man, and you ain't been trying to die for like weeks now, right?"

"Pretty much."

"See? That right there's Tavros working the miracles. So here, you take this shit and make some magic with this fuckin' icing to tell the brother how you feel." 

"But I'm not an artitht, Gamthee." 

"Every motherfucker's a fuckin' artist, dog. You just ain't bein' aware of it yet 'cause you ain't tried to make somethin' for some beautiful fucker you loved." 

Sollux sighs. "It'th not that," he says. "I mean, I wrote aa thith totally thweet program for her iPhone latht year. She needed a filing thythem for her geology dig becauthe they lothe all their importanthe if you forget where you dug them up or whatever, tho I thurprithed her. I jutht can't draw for shit." 

"Sure, man, I ain't bein' to judge how you do your thing on the computer. It's all some kind of magic to me." Gamzee makes invisible keyboard gestures. "Heheh, I don't even know how to check my fuckin' email without writing some password shit down and losin' it anyway. But it's the same no matter what kind of wicked miracles you're all bringin' on. The hard part's getting started. Then that bitch ain't shit but fun and expressing yourself." 

"Could you pothhibly thwear any more than you already do?" Sollux leans forward and attempts to copy Gamzee's sugar rose. His tongue sticks out when he concentrates, and Gamzee almost says something about it, but then he thinks it might fuck with Twitchy's groove so he doesn't. 

After a few moments of labored effort, Sollux's first effort at a sugar rose is complete. Next to Gamzee's example, it looks like a toothpaste tube had a seizure half-on, half-off the little frosting lid. And then shit itself. "Fuck thith, I can't do it!" Sollux shoves the icing cone back in Gamzee's face."I thuck, okay?" 

"Fuck that! Listen, bro, you know how many motherfuckin' flowers I had to make before I got this shit down? It gets easy, twitchy bro. You ain't practiced is all. Here, let me show you again. The trick is to calm your tits and just let the fuckin' magic happen. You're all jerky and up in your head. Like this." And he demonstrates again. Center blob. Three petals radiating out. Five. Then seven. "See? Smooth your shit down and let the rose be all unfolded on its own." 

Sollux makes a noncommittal noise, but doesn't wander off. It is kind of interesting, in a weird way. Watching Gamzee make things with that look on his face like all he wants in life is to be where he is, doing what he's doing. It's the exact opposite of how Sollux feels most of the time. Maybe that's why he feels sort of jealous right now. Gamzee starts another rose, more quickly this time, and as he does Sollux stops jogging his foot and instead observes the way Gamzee's hair frizzes right at the base of his neck before it snaps into those tight little glossy brown ringlets that must be a complete nightmare to comb.

"Ain't seen your girl in a while, bro." Gamzee says, breaking the silence. "She still visit you?" 

"Every day," Sollux says, and his shoulders go all tense. "Every goddamn day." 

"Shit, man, that sounds like I walked into some shit there. Trouble in paradise?" Gamzee keeps his focus on the growing sugar rose, even though there's nothing going on with it that needs all his attention like that. 

"It'th jutht..." Sollux's voice is flat and trails off. Gamzee lets the silence stretch out between them until he starts up again. "It'th weird now," he finishes.

"I always thought you two had it made, man. I'm sorry." Gamzee finally looks up from the rose. His eyes are very dark. "You and Aradia ain't bros anymore?" 

"I don't know," Sollux admits. "I thought we were okay after, you know. After we broke up. Maybe it'th better thith way. She detherveth better than to hang around the loony bin watching me fail thpectacularly to get better. How many timeth have I been here? And every time I think it'th really working out, I fuck up again. But she thtill cometh, and I don't know if it'th becauthe she meanth it or becauthe she'th thcared of what I'd do if she thtopped." 

"Shiiit. That's harsh." He settles one hand firmly on Sollux's shoulder. "I was Aradia, I'd come just 'cause I liked my bro like that." Gamzee notices too late that there's red and blue icing all over his hand, caught under his fingernails and pasted over his knuckles. He's gonna leave a smear. Sollux's brows draw together as he looks down at his shoulder, and for a moment Gamzee thinks he might shrug it away, but he doesn't.

“Like I thaid, it'th weird." 

"Still love that sister, though, right?" 

"Only for-fucking-ever," Sollux says, and sniffs, hard. He tries to hide it by clearing his throat. Gamzee isn't buying it for a minute, though, not with him tense and silent and still under his hand, not with how those pretty mismatched eyes well up. His lips are pursed into a thin line and the way his brows are all furrowed up makes Gamzee want to say fuck it and put his arms around him, no matter how much he'd squirm. Sometimes a hug just has to be a thing that happens, whether it gets you punched in the nose or not.

He almost gives in to temptation before Sollux swats his hand away, his mouth twisting into a grin as he forces out a rough laugh. 

"Okay, no more thob thtorieth, fuckhead," he says in his brightest tone of voice. "Show me your fucking flower drawing technique again tho I can get the fuck out of here and back to my actual work." 

"Aight," Gamzee says, and makes like he's dumb enough to miss all that shit that just went on between them. "Lemme show you how to make some twisty bitchtits vines for the flowers to be livin' on."  

And so Sollux learns the finer points of making leaves, trees, happy suns with stupid faces, and border piping. They fill a few more small wax cones with colors, and Gamzee encourages him to fiddle with the combinations as much as he pleases. He ends up with some weird sort of pale vomit brown, a vivid blue, and a lime green with alternating stripes of orange. Squirted out onto the paper, his creations look more like play-dough than anything you'd actually want to eat.

He smiles in spite of himself. This is going to be one fucked up cake. 

Chapter Text

Sollux's roses don't get much better, but Gamzee refuses to let him get a self-deprecating word out. Anytime he tries, Gamzee just cuts him off with one upraised hand and takes the icing bag back, showing him a better way to hold it, or a better angle to work from. He turns out to be a pretty good teacher.

It's more than bit rankling, Sollux thinks, to be interrupted and shot down and lectured like this, but Gamzee's so goddamn earnest that it's sort of amusing at the same time. Gamzee's concept of personal space completely evaporates when he's concentrating on something, but Sollux doesn't protest when their shoulders press against each other, or when the dear idiot takes Sollux's hands in his and and positions them, just so, on the icing bag. "Like that, bro." Gamzee says, and Sollux just nods.

Once Sollux feels he has the hang of things, Gamzee instructs him to “get your practice on and make whatever the fuck crawls out of your mind” on the wax paper and returns to his mixing bowl. He adds blue food coloring to the icing, stirring it in a few drops at a time, “like the fuckin' sky, or windy bro's eyes.”

Soon he's spreading on the base layer with a spatula. Watching him, Sollux wonders if he ever had to, like, decorate cakes on a conveyor belt or something. It's a bit unnerving seeing him move like that; he keeps expecting him to fumble or drop something or fuck it up like he does with nearly everything else, but no, Gamzee stays utterly absorbed and handles that spatula like it's part of his own arm, and soon the cake is veneered in a smooth expanse of blue.

Sollux stares at the wax paper. Birthday things. What the fuck does Tavros like? There is a nagging voice in his head. It tells him that this is a stupid waste of time, that he could be doing so many other things, useful things, that he could be changing the world, but the more Sollux absorbs himself in making simple shapes and blobs of things that vaguely resemble what he sees in his head, the easier it is to ignore them. 

Soon he has two more slightly less lopsided roses, a pi sign, and a small, angry Karkat face with the word BLUH under it.     

Gamzee, satisfied with his own work, glances over with an arched eyebrow. 

“Hey, how you doin' over there, bro?”

“Shitty.”

Gamzee gives him a sidelong look and grins. “Aww, naw, that's lookin' good man. I think you're all ready to make this cake beautiful.”

“I think you're crathy.”

Before Sollux can object, Gamzee reaches out, hooks his fingers in a beltloop, and pulls him over until he's standing in front of the cake, his side pressed against his. “I know what I'm seein' and I think you're motherfucking ready bro. Now just let it all flow.”

He opens his mouth to object, but Gamzee has already snagged a purple tube and is already absorbed in writing out the beginnings of “HAPPY” on the upper left-hand corner of the cake. Sollux isn't sure which surprises him more—Gamzee's intense focus, or that the word is actually readable. Sighing, Sollux eyes the cake and feels his chest tighten in mingled anxiety and frustration. Yeah, great, wonderful, first he shits icing all over a wax paper, now he gets to ruin a perfectly good chocolate cake.

“You stuck, man?” Gamzee doesn't look up from where he's painstakingly drawing out a wobbly P. “Why not be drawing Tav some fly ass balloons or something?”

Sollux draws in a deep breath and lets it out. Okay. Balloons. Those sounded easy. And maybe if he fucks it up too much Gamzee can fix it for him.

Three balloons later, he squeezes out a last trailing string of icing and peers at his work in horror.

“... Thethe look like thperm.”

Gamzee glances over and bursts out laughing. “Aw, shit, man, no wonder! Why'd you make 'em all white for?”

“The red and blue thtripes ran out!” Sollux complains. "Thith ith now officially the gayetht cake. Everyone go home, homothexual baking ith over."

Gamzee wraps his lanky arms around himself, smearing his shirt with more half-dry icing, and bends forward at the waist. His shoulders quake to the beat of his peculiar dry raspy stoner laugh.

"It'th not funny, athhole! Tavroth ith gonna think I did it on purpothe!" 

Gamzee has no breath to reply, so he just waves one hand in a helpless dying animal sort of way. He straightens but his face is only half-serious. His breath comes in convulsive little gasps. "Oh man, your face!" he wheezes. "Solbro, you kill me!" And he doubles over again with fresh hilarity.

Sollux attempts a glower, but it's sort of ruined by how the corners of his mouth twitch upward. “That'th right, fuckfathe. Theeing ath how thith gay homothexual queercake is half your fault...” He brandishes the nearly-empty icing bag like a loaded pistol and points it right between Gamzee's widening eyes. "If I go down, I'm taking you with me."

"Whoa!" Gamzee raises his hands and takes a step back. "Whoa, hey now, bro. Let's don't get all crazy and shit. Put that fine decorating equipment all down nice and mellow and let's you and me talk this over--"

"I'll do it," Sollux informs him, and moves to close the distance between them. "I'm not going back to the joint. Do you know what they do in thothe platheth to guyth who make sugar rotheth?"

"Think about it, brosef, you don't wanna be doin' this." Gamzee gives Sollux his most concerned face. With the makeup, it looks terrifying. "You don't wanna make a mistake you'll be regretting later on. Put that shit down and let's talk."

Sollux fakes a long shudder of despair and slowly places the icing bag back on the counter. "O-okay, Gamthee, I'm thorry," he says, backing away with his hands held up before him in surrender.  

"I ain't, motherfucker!" Gamzee crows and snatches up the icing bag. Before Sollux can decry this betrayal, he finds himself with a faceful of fancy piped frosting. 

"JETHUTH FUCKING SHIT, WHAT THE FUCK!" Sollux roars and staggers back against the counter. "WHAT THE FUCK!"  

"Oh shit," Gamzee squawks, "We got some mutinous fuckin' shenanigans goin' on up in here!"  

"Gamthee, I did not conthent to having you bukkake my fathe with your dithguthting juggalo fluidth!" 

Sollux tries to wipe his face with the backs of his hands, but this only smears it around. With great care, he removes his spattered glasses and places them on the counter. He hazards a glance at the door and finds New Guy hunched over his phone, oblivious, still absorbed in sexting and terrible death metal.  

A slow grin creeps across his face. “Of courthe you know, thith meanth war.”

Chapter Text

Sollux snatches up the orange and green filled icing cone and lunges, and for a split second Sollux regrets he has no camera to capture Gamzee's expression because it's quite possibly the funniest fucking thing he's ever seen.

It only gets better when Sollux empties the entirety of that cone into Gamzee's hair.

Gamzee blurts a strangled cackle even as he retaliates, squirting more icing down Sollux's shirt, and oh god this is disgusting, it feels terrible, but he can't stop laughing as he kneads great pasty wads of orange frosting into Gamzee's hair, plastering down his messy curls. "How you like me now, bitch?"

Gamzee is too overcome with laughter to answer, let alone retaliate against the hard push backward Sollux gives him. Gamzee stumbles right into the niche between two counters and against the wall, effectively trapping himself. Sollux grabs a handful of smaller icing tubes and closes the distance immediately, grinning as he raises his weapons.

“Whoooa, hahahaha, oh fuck, man--” Gamzee tries to fend him off and ends up with streaks of blue and green all over his arms. He gets a mouthful of sugar when he tries to sputter out another plea for mercy. One eye is spackled shut under a cool layer of gunk before he can whip his head out of the line of fire.

Sollux's onslaught is swift and merciless. He yanks that absurd Unico t-shirt over Gamzee's head and proceeds to decorate his torso, ignoring Gamzee's breathless wail of protest while resolutely batting aside his flailing arms.

Sollux spies faint scars and he can count every single one of Gamzee's ribs, but he doesn't care about that right now. He is a man on a mission, only dimly aware that there are sounds coming from him that don't sound like him at all, breathy, manic cackles that rise and fall in pitch as he scrawls all over Gamzee's chest in yellow and red. He snatches more icing tubes from the counter and wrenches them, sending out glorious streams of purple and orange. Gamzee howls and writhes with renewed desperation as Sollux's shaking hands venture lower, smearing bright patterns over his ribs and stomach.

“SHIIIIT SHIT SHIT SHIT, OH FUCK, STOP, THAT FUCKING TICKLES--”

It makes Sollux pause long enough that Gamzee is able to yank his shirt back down. He lets himself slump and clutches at the counter with both slick hands. Sollux's bested foe is overcome with breathless giggles, unable to do more than bury his face in one hand and tremble soundlessly.

Sollux's grin sharpens. Oh, did Gamzee think he was done? Snickering, he grabs another tube, snakes a hand down the front of Gamzee's pants, and—

Encounters Gamzee's junk. Sollux blurts a squawk as Gamzee stiffens from head to toe and grimaces.

"WHOA NOW!"

"Dude! What the fuck!" Sollux yells at the exact same time and yanks his hand back like he's just touched a red-hot stovetop. "Where'th your underpantth, athhole?"

Gamzee grins. "A brother can go commando if he wants," Sollux can only gawk in horror, unable to tear his eyes away from his crotch as the realization hits that the only thing between him and Little Gamzee is a thin layer of polka-dotted cotton. "Good for the constitution and shit."

Horrified, he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Oh my fucking god, Gamthee--”

“Heheh, and would you look at that.”

Sollux lowers his hands fractionally and glares at him. “What.”

“You're all out of ammo, motherfucker," he breathes.

That jolts Sollux right back to the matter at hand. He grimaces at his spent, twisted icing tubes and Gamzee grins wider.

Fuck. Fuck. Scrambling, Sollux twists and attempts to reach for Gamzee's bowl of blue icing, only to freeze as he feels Gamzee grab the waistband of his pants and pull it back.

Oh no. Oh shit no--

Sollux gives him a single look of incredulous, wordless outrage before Gamzee empties the rest of the icing down his boxers.

“OH NO YOU FUCKING DIDN'T--”

“Haaaahaha you bet your sweet ass I did--”

“OH MY GOD I HATE YOUR SHITTY PUNTH THO MUCH!"

It takes him a second to free himself from Gamzee's grip and turn around. In the process, his elbow catches against the mixing bowl and sends it toppling off the counter.

“Oh shit—OOF—OW HAHAHAWHOA--”

Sollux doesn't really have the body mass to tackle him, but Gamzee is laughing too had to defend himself properly. They hit the floor in a writhing mass of greasy rainbow outrage with Sollux on top, and oh shit New Guy must felt their impact vibrate through the floor at least, but no, miraculously, the big dumb moron doesn't so much as glance up.

Well then.

The manic gleam that's been lurking in his eyes for the past three days has blossomed into the leer of a madman. Grinning his triumph, Sollux ignores the deeply unpleasant sensation of icing squishing in his boxers and grabs at Gamzee's wrists. He will destroy the juggalo with his own vile candy-colored cake decorations. A little voice in his head says "Make him pay," and he intends to do just that. And as much more as he can get away with.

His breath coming in harsh pants, Gamzee squirms and tries to get his arms and legs back under him, but the floor is too slick.

“Oo-oohh, I don't think tho, Gamthee--HEY--”

Gamzee attempts to grab Sollux's wrists, giggling harder as it dawns on him that they are both just way too slippery. As hard as he flails, the best he can manage is to to cover Sollux's forearms with vivid skittering fingermarks in all the colors of the rainbow. Sollux throws his grip off with ease and a smug "HA!" spat right in Gamzee's stupid sugary face.

Gamzee shrugs and uses his legs instead.

Sollux, not having counted on this fight with a double-jointed mutant, is unprepared when lanky spotted pajama legs close around his torso. All at once, gravity does a 180 and he finds himself on the bottom of the skirmish. Gamzee looms over him, blocking out the overhead light, wide shoulders streaked with blue gore the exact color of the sky.

Gamzee grins with his too-white teeth and neon purple icing smeared around his lips. “Gotcha.”

Sollux thrashes, attempting to get a leg up and kick him off, but Gamzee just smiles that infuriating shit eating grin and sits there easily, chuckling as if his attempts to squirm away are the cutest thing he's ever seen.

Sollux growls and shoves at his chest with both hands, hard. Gamzee barely budges. Who knew the lanky idiot stoner clown was so fucking strong?

“You--” Gasp. “ATH--”

Gamzee just nods to himself. "We ain't done here yet, Captor," he says, and reaches up onto the counter with one long arm. Casually. Lazily, even. There's a sliding noise of plastic on formica and Sollux's eyes widen in giddy horror when the hand reappears. He knows that offensively cheery little container.

Gamzee has the rainbow sprinkles.

“Oh f-fuck--”

"You wanna be pretty, Twitchy?" Gamzee ignores Sollux's dismayed wail and fends off a waving arm with a casual elbow-swipe. He unscrews the lid on the jar with almost preternatural calm. "I'll make you so fuckin' pretty. I'll make you shine like the motherfuckin' stars."

He tips the jar over Sollux's face.

Tiny multicolored sugary dots rain down, and though it's humiliating, it's also so hilariously absurd that Sollux can't help but burst into new cackles. It's contagious; soon Gamzee is shaking and wheezing too as he rattles the little container rapidly.

Sollux attempts to shield his face with his hands to no avail. “Jethuth christht you shithead I can't believe you--”

“Oh believe it, my brother, we're making this happen--”

It's not so bad, Sollux thinks. Not really. This is just stupid shit, stuff they'd laugh about later. It's not like anyone else would walk in and—

Sollux goes still as he sees a blurry red shape hover just behind Gamzee's left shoulder.

“... Welp.”

Fuck.

Gamzee stills and turns around to look at Strider, frosting slathered brows arching lazily. “Oh, hey bro, what's shakin'?”

“Heard the yelling. Want me to come back later?”

"Wait! Dave Thtrider, oh thank fucking FUCK, you gotta do thomething, he'th a crathy perthon--"

"Shoosh," Gamzee says, and claps one massive blue-spattered hand over his prisoner's mouth. "Twitchy and me are decorating a motherfuckin' cake."

"Looks good so far," Dave says in his careful monotone. "Hey, can I get some of that german chocolate icing?"

"Fuck yeah, get that coconut-havin' shit out of this kitchen and don't let me see it again." Gamzee takes the hand off Sollux's mouth to wave the offending item away. Sollux fully intends to scream something filthy at the both of them, but the hand clamps down again even as he draws the necessary breath. His protests come out in a muffled quack that sounds suspiciously like "dipshit."

"Cool." Dave makes the little tub of frosting disappear into the tent of his oversized shirt and gives Gamzee a nod. "You need a hand with Captor there?"

"No worries, bro, I just about got this shit covered." Gamzee hums over the sound of Sollux's nasal squawking.

Dave shrugs and heads back out the door, giving an insufferable little finger-wave over his shoulder.

New Guy, immersed in his private bubble of death metal, remains as oblivious as ever.

Chapter Text

Sollux bellows more invective into that hand, which Gamzee seems content to keep there as long as it takes. Leaning down, he makes a wide grin. “All done, Twitchy?”

Sollux responds by licking Gamzee's palm, and that's enough to make Gamzee scrunch his face up in amused shock and jerk his hand away. Sollux smirks. "Athhole," he growls.

Head tilted, Gamzee gazes down at his decorating project and grins in astonishment.

“Man, Terezi would be having a motherfuckin' ball if she was all finding you like this.”

“Oh really.” Sollux glares up at him. Gamzee is looking pretty amazing himself, smiling under clumps of green and orange half-blended into one hideous noncolor in his curly hair.

Gamzee shifts a little and leans his weight on his elbows, peering closer. His voice drops to a speculative murmur. “Shit yeah, your face gots its own wicked mask now, all apple greens and cherry reds and Halloween orange and bright blue like what, uh, dish soap is or some shit with all the rainbows on em.”

“... Dish thoap.”

“You're motherfuckin' beautiful, man.”

Sollux's voice is shaking with held back mirth. “Tho, what, you and Terethi share powerth now? C-can you tathte the rainbow too?”

That fiendish grin returns, though it's ruined a little by how Gamzee's voice goes all choked with giggles too. “Let's take a look and see.”

Sollux's eyes go wide. He can't mean—

He does. Oh shit he does.

Sollux tries to wrench himself free one final time, but it's no use. His shoulders stiffen and he can't stifle a strangled wail as Gamzee, true to his word, licks a sudden cold wet line up his frosted cheek from the edge of his lip to just under his blue eye.

"Motherfucker!" Sollux yelps, pulling away a second too late. His head hits the back of the cabinet with a thud. "Ow."

Gamzee erupts into wheezing cackles then, his icing-beaded eyebrows furrowed upward making lines in his painted forehead, as if even he can't believe what he just did. A moment later his eyes narrow and he has clearly decided to do it again.

He leans back down to where Sollux's head is still pressed on the counter side with nowhere else to go. His breath is warm and sweet against Sollux's cheek, which is still wet from the licking. Sollux squeezes an eye shut and thinks frantically of Sigourney Weaver cornered by an alien. An alien with dancing chocolate-brown eyes. Really nice eyes, actually.

“M-motherfuckin' delicious, bro—” Gamzee says, blowing more breath across Sollux's cheek. "Your face, you should have seen--"

Before Sollux can fully think about what he's doing, he grabs the sides of Gamzee's head with his greasy hands, heaves himself up a last few inches, and rasps his own tongue up Gamzee's face. He licks from sugary green-blue-orange chin all the way up that long nose with the little bump halfway up. His tongue pulls Gamzee's lip open a little and for a second he feels the smooth sharp edge of his front teeth, and doesn't even care.

The way Gamzee's cackles abruptly cut off into a single stunned gasp makes it more than worth it and he moves to do it again, but then Gamzee is trying to retaliate and somehow their lips meet this time and oh holy fuck they're kissing.

Everything in Sollux's brain promptly goes on pause for the first time in two tornado-spinning weeks. Gamzee's tongue is surprisingly strong and moves kind of like it has a mind all its own, and for a split second Sollux can only stare unseeingly at the ceiling before it dawns on him that this game is not yet over. They are now playing hardball.

He snakes his fingers deeper into Gamzee's plastered curls and gives back just as good as he gets, icing squishing through his fingers as he twists that springy mess of hair into sticky horns. Gamzee blurts a sudden sharp noise and Sollux's hands freeze, oh shit, he must have pulled a little too hard—

Gamzee draws back and stares at him and Sollux can only gawk in dismay. Now he's done it, he finally took it too far and managed to genuinely freak out the stoner clown. Good job, idiot--

But no, Gamzee looks curious rather than offended. He takes one hand away from where it's been pressed against the spiky back of Sollux's head and brings it around to his lips. He slides his sugar-crusted fingers into Sollux's mouth and Sollux lets him, tasting chocolate and the rough edges of smooth crescent fingernails against his tongue as Gamzee feels around.

Oh, that's what this is about.

"Holy shit," Gamzee breathes. He pulls his half-licked-clean fingers back out and peels Sollux's lips back like a dentist. It's not sexy at all. Definitely not sexy the way Gamzee holds his mouth gently open and peers inside. “Goddamn, what is even with your teeth, bro? What the motherfuck, you're just like them wicked bony sharkfish brothers--”

He's had this happen before, so he should know what to say by now, but his head is reeling with the taste of frosting and skin and how good it feels to be pinned on the floor of this destroyed kitchen by an insane giant who worships clown rappers.

Before Sollux can think of a reply to sputter out, Gamzee surprises him by diving right back into that kiss and—holy shit, holy fucking shit, he wants this right goddamn now and he is going to have it. Sollux pulls his hands out of Gamzee's hair, slides them down his broad back to his narrow waist and hikes up his shirt to get his hands underneath. Gamzee mumbles something incomprehensible and Sollux rakes his nails up his back, just hard enough to hurt a little, and he's startled once again by the languid moan Gamzee makes against his lips.

He now knows what the word "motherfucker" tastes like when sighed from one mouth into another, and it is driving him insane.

Sollux isn't sure how long they stay like that, only that they're clutching at each other and their faces are glued together with icing and saliva from their fencing tongues and clicking teeth as they devour each other alive through a constant soundtrack of riotous giggling and occasional other noises.

It's sort of weird to think about too closely, but Gamzee is actually a really good kisser. Sollux hears little throaty needy sounds like some kind of cheesy porn movie, and it takes a second to click that he's the one making them, and that Gamzee is rumbling low, intense noises in response. Their hips are moving. When did their hips start moving? He's more than okay with this grinding around business. This is the best day ever. What is apiculture again? God, this feels good. Holy shit, they need to be closer than this. There are too many layers between them.

Then Sollux remembers Gamzee's particular underwear preference and the noise he hears himself make is simultaneously horrified and victorious.

His hands are already on their sticky frantic way down Gamzee's pajama pants, on a mission from God, and holy shit YES Gamzee is returning the favor--

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING IN THERE?"

They freeze. Still locked together in a pastel smear, Gamzee and Sollux unknowingly share a single thought: right now the two of them must look like some kind of impressionist painting. A painting of a couple of teenaged lunatics dry humping on a kitchen floor covered in cake decorations drying crusty and bright except the places where it's been licked or rubbed off, faces upturned in identical wide-mouthed surprise at being caught mid-frot.

Neither one of them feels all that ashamed about it, either.

"YOU WILL STOP." Equius commands in that baritone way he reserves for the really foolish behavior, and they finally wrench their bodies apart. Shirts may or may not be hastily tugged down over the fronts of their jeans. It's hard to tell exactly what adjustments are made in the whirl of color and shock that comes from being caught in the very pleasant act.

"Front desk, both of you. Right now." Equius says. "If you aren't standing there, at least three feet apart, when I'm finished in here, I will come and get you."

The two of them hastily collect themselves, skidding on orange and blue clumps as they cross the floor. Equius and New Guy stand on either side of the doorway. New Guy's iPhone has disappeared but a short length of cord hangs down his bull neck where a single severed earbud is somehow still plugged in. New Guy has gone as pale as milk and Equius is glaring at him rather than at the two of them.

Gamzee claps New Guy on the shoulder as they leave the kitchen and the building storm of strong outrage. His hand leaves a perfect green print on the white orderly shirt. Sollux can feel the electric current of Equius's rage as his head passes between the locked eyes of their wardens.

"Dave thquealed," Sollux guesses as they skid down the short hall to the nurse's station where they will be judged and sentenced for the crime of extreme cake decoration.

"Nah, man, you were sayin' my name all kinda loud and shit. Someone probably just heard it."

"Oh." Sollux grimaces. "Oopth."

"I ain't even complaining, bro. Shit was worth it." Gamzee grins. "I was right, what I said back there? You are the crazy motherfucker what's good in bed."

"Or on the floor," Sollux adds. "Oh my god. I am going to regret thith tho hard tomorrow."

"Really?" Gamzee looks a little hurt. Sollux is amazed that he can tell through the paint and the icing smears. It's in the eyes, he thinks.

"Fuck no," he finally admits, and grins. "Not even clothe."

The evening shift has begun and the nurse's station is being manned by the blonde lady. Primrose Mallory or something that sounds like that. She has been the queen of the front desk since the day Sollux first came to St. Lobaf. She has seen fights, suicide attempts, more than a few psychotic tantrums (some of them his own), and the occasional naked jumping jacks (thankfully not his own). She has weathered many a storm in her day. No psychiatric nurse stays in this business for long without developing armor against the peculiarities of the human condition, and she is the best of them.

Right now, PM is staring at them both in undisguised horror, her gray eyes shifting from one decorated resident to the other and back again, taking in the sight of their dishevelment with something like admiration.

"I suppose you'll be needing extra towels and shampoo for your showers," she finally says, her tone perfectly neutral.

"We're thuppothed to wait here for Equiuth to come murder uth," Sollux informs her. He's already starting to bounce around on his feet again. This is just so exciting.

"Yeah, brother was all kinds of upset when we left him." Gamzee puts in.

"I say you're getting showers right now before you touch anything with those hands." PM shakes her head. "Hold on, I'll call someone to go with you and... make sure you get there safely."

"And uthe theparate thtallth," Sollux adds with a maniacal leer. Gamzee cracks up again.

PM's mouth is now a thin line and she appears to be suppressing the urge to lecture them. Instead, she picks up the desk phone and makes a call for backup.

"That wath the betht cake I ever decorated," Sollux tells Gamzee. His loopy smile is the twin of Gamzee's, right down to the mirror image of colors spackled across both of their mouths.

"You know what, I think you'd make a good baker, Solbro," Gamzee tells him. "You're wicked skilled at the colors part."

"Should I thart painting my fathe like you, too? Really get into the apprentithe gig?" Sollux snorts. "I'd make a pithh-poor clown, though. Fair warning."

“Heheh, dunno about that, you one silly ass motherfucker when you get it in your mind to be.” He dips a licked-clean fingertip into a streak of red icing globbed on the front of Sollux's shirt, scooping up a fingerful, and pokes his nose. “Beep.”

Epilogue:

The party is a huge success. Everyone gets a piece of the crazycake and agrees that it tastes miles better than anything out of a box, regardless of the somewhat lewd rumors regarding the circumstances of its conception. Feferi tells Gamzee how interesting and fun the decorations are, which makes Sollux giggle nonstop and completely disrupt the birthday song by pointing out the unfortunate balloons.

Dave casually takes a few compliments for his last-minute assistance in finishing the art on the cake after its original creators were put on restriction, and makes sure the piece with the sperm balloons and the pork-chop mouthed Tavros are served to the birthday boy himself.

It is the most delicious cake ever. Tavros cries a little. Gamzee cries a lot, because man, it's just so fucking beautiful being all together with your bros and sisters and feeling family like that.

Six days after Tavros's birthday shenanigans wind down, a dry, stale sheetcake reading “Happy Birthday Tauros” is discovered, lurking and spiderwebbed, deep in the ventilation ducts of the Men's Wing.

Gamzee refuses to shut up about it for a week.

Chapter Text

CT: D --> What is this you're doing

CT: D --> I will tolerate no further l00dness

TG: no dude thats not a penis thats the letter L calm down

Chapter Text

TG: … okay why is that fuzzy worm named dave

TG: why are you people naming everything dave

TG: first you all gang up on me in art therapy

TG: do you remember that

TG: nepeta made that tiger out of pipe cleaners and named that dave

TG: which inspired john to make all those horrifying coolkid paper bag puppets

TG: and it just wouldnt end

TG: next thing you know all the koi in the pond are named dave

TG: jade names that weird looking duck dave

TG: why jade

GG: to fuck with you!!! XD XD XD

TG: aw girl

TG: next twiggy names the new computer terminal dave

TG: and when i tried to change it to something else a little message popped up

TG: guess what it said

TA: ii cant let you do that dave ehehehehe

EB: dave the thanksgiving tofurkey!

TG: oh god dont remind me of that

TG: suddenly daves are everywhere like some kind of bad dream

TG: i just dont understand

EB: because dave is awesome!

GG: hey what about tavro’s sun conure!

EB: oh, i forgot about him!

EB: poor davesprite

TG: davesprite

TG: what the hell

TC: HeY mAn DoN’t EvEn LoOk At Me I wAnTeD tO bE nAmInG tHaT sWeEt LiTtLe WiGgLeR bUdDy RiCh

TG: you are my one true friend gamzee

TC: :o)

Chapter Text

What follows is one of the most awkward showers of his life as Sollux proceeds to scrub away several layers of multicolored shame and try to ignore the persistent boner between his legs, all while an orderly’s silhouette lurks in the doorway.

Fuck. If there was ever a time he thought his penis could look hopeful…

In the next stall, he can see Gamzee’s long toed feet moving as he shifts his weight. Was he struggling with the same delicate problem? Sollux grits his teeth and works another palmful of Suave shampoo into his hair. Think about something else. Think about anything else. As fun as all that was, it’s nice to get all this sugary crap off him. It’s sort of mesmerizing how rainbow colored rivulets are going down the drain like that. He is probably going to be shampooing frosting out of his hair for the next several days. Lather, rinse, repeat, lather, rinse, repeat…

Gamzee gasps. Sollux pauses.

Is he doing what he thinks he’s doing?

No. NO. Who cares what he is doing, this is not a thing that is happening. Sollux is not jerking off with an orderly in the doorway. No.

Bees. Queen bees. Queen bees are totally helpless and have consorts that give her food, feed her, and remove her waste. There have been incidents of grandmother, mother, and daughter queens all coexisting peacefully within the same hive. Sister queens will attempt to destroy one another immediately upon emerging from their cells. Cells. Cute big-eyed larvae nestled in their little capped rooms. Entire hives existing in beautiful clockwork harmony full of dancing and pheremones and castes. Castes. Workers and foragers and drones, drones are useless, drones laze around and mooch food off of workers and do nothing but wait for sex, Gamzee would make an excellent drone, the sexiest bee, it would be so easy to reach down and touch himself right now, just a few fast strokes and he would be gone—

NO.

Gamzee’s dance brings all the queens to the yard, and they’re like, it’s better than yours, damn right, it’s better than yours, he could teach you but he’d have to charge—

“The fuck’re you all giggling at over there?” Gamzee sounds amused. Sollux blinks and claps a hand over his mouth as Gamzee wiggles his foot under the stall.

“Thecret.”

Gamzee attempts to prod him with that foot. “Aww, c’mon.” Sollux steps neatly out of the way.

“Nope, not telling. But y’know what?”

“What?”

“New Guy is tho fired.”

“Haaahahaha. Baby, you ain’t even kidding.”