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Chapter Text

Laserblast inched down the darkened corridor towards the strip of light, tense, determined and waiting for his cue to proceed. He had to pull this off flawlessly - it was the sort of mission whose consequences would be simply unthinkable, if he were to blow it. He shuddered at the mental image of what the newspapers would say if they ever caught a whiff of this…

No. Think of something else. 

For example, he was still dang mad at his team for the way all eyes had suddenly, surreptitiously turned to Silver Spark, the brilliant, but still very new addition to their team, when this mission had first been suggested. She had looked so uncomfortable... Well, it had only made him volunteer all the faster. 

Yes, this mission could stab him where it hurt the most, but he could admit to himself that he was nothing if not a thrill-seeker. He grinned a bit and, despite his accelerating heartbeat, inched even closer to the dark curtain that still hid him from view.

The lights went out. He took a deep breath, gripped the curtain and braced himself.

And there was his cue.

He was barely out, when the sudden flash of projectors and the following screaming startled and disoriented him for a second. If it weren’t for his visor, he would have been blinded, he was sure. Even with it, he could barely see anything beyond the columns of brightness lighting the way to his goal and the reflections of the glitter on the floor.

He put on an expression of cool boredom, stretched just a little, for the show, and proceeded confidently to the front stage, doing his best heroic strut. It was easier, he supposed, when he couldn’t see the people around him, for now. 

But when he playfully cocked the ankle of his heavy boot behind the pole, just a little, in a way that he knew accentuated the muscles of his thigh even through his suit, and examined his black leather gloves with deliberate care, he found that it was actually not in order to gather his courage, as he’d intended, but in order to tease.

Let’s have some fun then, shall we.

He gave everyone a heroic wave, flashed them his trademark smile, and then in one smooth motion flung off the black leather jacket he’d received before the show, and leaped right onto the pole.

Judging by the shrieks, he had his audience now, if he hadn’t before. So, he went down to business with some of the more basic moves he knew.

The mission was straightforward - there was an elusive high-level supervillain their colleagues had been unable to take down for months now, and their sources said that he’d be in the club that night, making an evil deal. So he had to catch his eye, strike an acquaintance, infiltrate his base, gather evidence, and bust his butt. Easy-peasy.

Cob those two, Foxtail and Greyman! I’ll show them that I’m the best option for this mission, not some newbie! He fumed and spun around the pole like he had something to prove, holding on only on ankles and elbows, and letting the audience take a veeery good look at his assets.

Then, he landed as gracefully as a panther, and tossed his tank top to the ground, just as unexpectedly as the jacket. The crowd went spare.

Too easy.

Well, not that it had been all smooth sailing. He’d almost had a heart attack when the tiny lady called Ginger who owned the club had tossed him a Laserblast costume the very moment he had turned up to ask for a job. 

If anyone ever found out that he wasn’t just a buff dude in a stage costume, but the real deal…

No, no, nope, no thinking of that. There’s no room for failure in this mission.

As the accompanying music ebbed a bit, he made a show of considering what he should do next, eyeing the pole, one hand on his cocked hip, and the other scratching just below his helmet. It had the added bonus of allowing him to turn on its scanner in plain sight, before hopping back into action.

His helmet’s sensors (it was the real one, not the club’s cheap fake) quickly scanned the whole place. Very few in the crowd lit up as villains, and only a single one stood out as a negative 8 level.

I got you now, Laserblast thought gleefully as he lazily slid down the pole upside down, legs at a perfect ten minutes to two o’clock. He was nearing the grand finale and it was the perfect pose to hold eye-contact and then wink at his target.

Zero reaction.

Huh?? Laser almost slipped off the pole. 

Ah, the dang visor. Phew.

Right, right. Winking wasn’t going to get him anywhere, for once. Too bad, it was one of his most charming acts. Well, in that case, time to try the cheesier, but also very efficient second best. 

So he swung back up, thighs tightly gripping the pole, leaned away as far out as he could and sent just the sweetest air kiss at his target.

The reaction was still a bit muted. Well, not unexpected, for a high-level supervillain. And a pretty cute one at that, if Laserblast was any judge. Unexpectedly cute, in fact. He probably had hot people throwing themselves at him all the time.

Well, Laserblast sure wasn’t going to lose to any of them, he thought and smirked as he flowed off the pole and oh-so-casually stuck his thumbs in the hem of his stage pants. A moment later, they landed in the lap of his villain, having missed his face just barely.

You’re mine, villain.

In the audience, one blisteringly embarrassed and utterly confused Lad Boxman nearly imploded on the spot. He knew, he just knew he should have gone go-karting for his birthday, like every year! Dang his supervillain “pal” who gave him this stupid idea!

Chapter Text

Professor Venomous stared at the closed door.

What are you supposed to do when the rush of adrenaline suddenly drops away, like a blindfold from your eyes, and you realize that you’ve taken a giant leap into the unknown?

His answer had always been the same - wing it, keep charging, land on your feet, pretend that was the plan all along. Fake that you’re in control, and the world will buy it. And if the world buys it, what does it matter if you knew what you were doing anyway?

Now, faced with this door, he wasn’t so sure anymore. 

It was a plain door, even a little shabby. There was no lock. All he had to do was knock, and Boxman would be on the other side, and they’d…

What would they do?

He buried his warming face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. Cob, he knew perfectly what he wanted them to do, and he was pretty certain Boxman did, too, but… 

It was so strange. For once, he knew exactly what he wanted. It was right on the other side of this door. For all he knew, Boxman wasn’t averse either. There were zero obstacles. In fact, he’d just personally bulldozed all of the obstacles by spending the majority of his savings to buy Boxmore. Most people got married with less pomp and circumstance.

It was all just so easy. So fast. So natural. So right.

So strange.

His hand knocked on the door.

“Oh! Oh, h-hi, PV!” Boxman wore the cutest tiny, tiny blush on his face when he opened. Not to mention fluffy chicken-patterned PJs.

Oh Cob, he looks more huggable than a body-pillow, I’m a goner.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you going to bed? I just wanted- It’s alright, I can come another time.” 

Oh, yes, very smooth, run away, you coward, his mind helpfully supplied.

“No, no, it’s fine, I just- A big day today, so much stuff happened, and I, I haven’t slept in a bed for some time, uhm, well, except of course your bed-” then he suddenly flapped his arms and blushed furiously “I-I-I mean, t-the guest bed in your house! Not your bed! I’ve never been in your bed! Never even seen it! I may have worn your clothes, but I- Actually, no, nevermind. W-what was I saying, again?” He finished and looked miserably up at him.

Well, at least it’s good to know that I’m not the only one absolutely taken aback by our own actions. He smiled lightly.

“Can I come in?” he asked, gently, strangely reassured by Boxman’s fluster.

Boxman threw open the door and stepped aside, mouth tightly zipped.

Venomous took a deep breath and crossed the threshold.

The room was… well, messy, small, and everything was wildly mismatched - there were pillows, and motherboards, and mugs, and action figures, and small rockets, and socks, and blueprints, and an electric kettle, and even a trophy that said “Chicken Fair 20XX Winner”. Even though Boxman would not have been living in it for quite some time now, it felt more lived-in and somehow cosier than his own house had ever seemed.

“Do you want something? Tea? Or...” Boxman pointed his thumb to a small cabinet in one corner “something stronger? I have unopened apple cider.”

“Maybe later,” he shook his head and leaned on a small chest of drawers with some framed photos on it. “Boxman...”

His Boxy gave him such a soft, expectant, hopeful look.

“You know what we’re doing, right?” he asked, heart thudding in his chest.

Boxman nodded enthusiastically, starry-eyed. Then, as if catching himself, he stuck his hands behind his back, took a step back and his eyes slid away to something behind him.

No, Boxy, I want you to be excited! I want you to look at me! Don’t hold back. I don’t know if I can do this if you hold back on me.

“I mean, if you want to, of course,” Boxman said to a portrait of what was probably his grandma, visibly trying not to fidget. “We can be doing whatever you want us to be doing,” he added, addressing a small, prickly cactus.

“Box, I-...”

“No, really, PV!” Boxman squeaked hurriedly and finally looked at him, wide-eyed. “Whatever you want! I myself am game for anything.” And then he repeated, with a voice desperately pleading with him to try to consider all the possibilities before rejecting him outright, “Anything.”

He felt a pang in his chest that spread all the way to his fingertips and gut. 

Ah. So that’s it then. That’s why he never went beyond his awkward hugs hello. That’s why he never suggested, or demanded, or expected anything from me. That’s why he is never going to make the first move, or demand more than I can give.

Well. Time to meet him halfway, then.

“Is that so?” He asked, taking a step forward. “In that case, here’s what I suggest we do.”

Boxman looked up at him with entire galaxies in his big, shiny eyes - one as black as his evil heart, one as red as the burning passion he admired so much. 

He took his mismatched hands and put them lightly on his waist, where they instinctively clutched fitfuls of his clothes. Then he cupped his face and gently caressed with one thumb the happy, little crow’s foot by Boxman’s organic eye.

Boxman must have read what his “suggestion” was on his face and in the look in his eyes, because he gave him the happiest, most innocent, widest smile he had ever seen on him, or on anyone else, ever.

He admired it for a moment, committing it to memory, and then leaned down and kissed him. 

It was a soft, tame kiss, but full of gentleness - the kiss of two people who didn’t know each other very well at all, yet, but were very willing to see what they could discover together beyond this new door they had just opened.

Chapter Text

Just as he’d promised himself when his babies first came off the production line, he was neeeeever going to regret this. However, after Professor Venomous moved in, his kids were making it extra-extra hard for him not to regret making so dang many of them, because they were everywhere.

Like right now, for example. He’d hoped to catch the Professor in the garage, as he was just coming home from shopping. But the garage was already full of helpful Darrells taking his shopping - bags that buzzed, seemed to include a lot of flailing tentacles, and featured several biohazard stickers. And just as the last one finally turned his back and Boxman was leaning into the new convertible for a kiss…

“Box, just in time,” Venomous got out of the car, nose stuck in an open folder. “We need to talk about your kids.”

“Oh. Ok,” Boxman sighed dramatically. “What did they do this time?”

“Darrell seems to be very interested in agriculture,” Venomous said, walking away certain that the other would follow. “He’s especially interested in corn production, horses and chickens,” he quoted from his file.

“Huh? I think he just likes to dress up as a cowboy…”

“No, not really. Although…” Venomous gave him a thoughtful look. “He is worried how you might react to his love for chickens, seeing your… situation.” His eyes lingered on Boxman’s left arm. “So he may be reluctant to discuss it with you.”

“Err…”

“But the point is, I’m going to book us for this Sunday for a team-building retreat at a place called ‘Old McDonald’s Farm’. It has five-star reviews on RateMyCorn.corn. I hope that’s alright with you?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Boxman said and leaned closer to the Professor, “anything you think is good. And maybe now we could-”

“DUCK!” Someone shouted, and as one quickly learned to do in Boxmore when told to duck, duck they did. A huge crate swinging off a crane sailed past.

“Sorry about that!” Raymond shouted from everywhere.

“Raymond!” Boxman shouted back. “Why are you manning the production floor!”

“It’s my turn! The professor put us on a rotation schedule! Isn’t it great!?”

Boxman was about to express his opinion on the greatness of the schedule, when Venomous resumed his stride.

“Yes, and speaking of Raymond, he likes sports, right? I’m also booking us for a beach team-building retreat the Sunday after that. We’ll have to do water sports. And Boxman, I have to tell you something.” Venomous stopped in a doorway and leaned in.

Boxman cheered mentally and puckered up.

“Raymond has a thing with the giant three-headed wave that lives near that beach. But she has several wavelets and he’s worried that they’re at very different stages of their lives and it might not work between them. So I need you to be very supportive, alright? Let them work it out at their own pace.”

“HUH!?” Boxman almost fell flat on his face. “Why didn’t I know anything about that!?”

“Well, you do now,” Venomous went on, taking the stairs to the second floor. “Next, there’s your elder daughter,” he said and studied the entry in his folder. “She’s… to be honest, just a very ordinary teenage girl, really.”

“Yes, I’m very proud of how she turned out. But PV, can we just-”

A band of Shannons with all weapons ablaze galloped down the second-floor corridor like a herd of rhinos, apparently busy in battle training.

“Ladies!” Venomous snapped. “What did we say about training?”

“We do it in the gym or outside, Professor,” the Shannons intoned happily.

“So out you go. Very, very quietly.”

“Yes, Professor!” The Shannons intoned very, very quietly and trooped out in near-perfect silence.

“Whaaa…” Boxman stared after them, jaw on the floor. “How did you do that!?”

“So Shannon,” Venomous strode on. “She likes shopping, boys and fashion, and hates…” he flipped a page “...capitalism, the hypersexualisation of young women and girls, and the absence of the female perspective in political and social issue discussions. As I was saying, the same as most young women today.”

Boxman almost walked into an exhaust pipe.

“D-dare I ask what you’re planning for her, then?” He asked, wide-eyed.

“We’ll go shopping.”

“Huh? Doesn’t that seem kind of… I don’t know…” Boxman fidgeted and poked his fingers together.

“And I’ll introduce her to Congresswoman next time we clash.”

“The Congresswoman!?”

“Do you know, Box,” Venomous stopped so suddenly with a hand on his office’s doorknob that Boxman almost ran into his butt. “I was going to keep Congresswoman for when Fink got to the age when she starts getting interested in these things, but I think your daughter can really kick Congress’s butts, given the opportunity.”

“I, err… thanks, I guess?” Boxman trotted into the office after him. 

Finally, no kids there!

“Then there’s your other daughter. Did you know she’s what they call a…” he sunk in his boss chair and consulted his file “...skinny?”

“Well, they’re robots,” Boxman stopped his climbing on top of the Professor’s desk long enough to give it some thought. “None of them have any fat, per say.”

Venomous gave him an infinitely patient and resigned look and sighed.

“Suffice it to say, we’ll have to go to a certain convention in a month,” he said and regarded the few small, delicate scales peeking out of his sleeve. “Don’t worry, we won’t stand out all that much.”

“If you say so,” Boxman said in happy innocence and crawled on the desk until his nose almost touched Venomous’s. “And now maybe we can-”

“Welcome home, boss!” Fink chirped. “Boxbutt, get off the desk. Here’s the report on Jethro that you asked me to do, boss.”

“Thanks, Fink, very well done,” Venomous got out of his chair to take the folder his minion was handing him. “Can you give me a summary?”

“He’s right up your alley. He likes classical music, opera and especially ballet. I already booked seats in your usual box in the symphony hall.”

“Perfect,” Venomous said and patted his smug minion’s mane on his way out.

Boxman scampered off the desk, threw Fink a dirty look that she returned with a dignified bleeeeh, and ran after her boss.

“PV! Can we just stop for a moment and-”

Venomous threw open the door to the administrative department, the domain of aaaall the Ernestos, who beamed at them in unison and got up from their seats.

“Oh, bother,” Boxman facepalmed while the professor and the Ernestos debated the merits of going to a DJ talent show at a nightclub versus attending an accountancy conference, with many Ernestos swaying towards the latter, to his horror.

Once that too was done, Boxman tried to inconspicuously drag Venomous by his labcoat aside to a nice, empty corridor where they could-

A small army of Jethros with cleaning equipment attached flooded the corridor.

“ARGH! Enough already!” Boxman roared. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Box?” Venomous cocked an eyebrow. “Is it just me or are you a little… tense?”

“A little!?” Snarled a huffing Boxman. “I just want to snog you already! And the whole world and your folder want to get in the way!” He shook his fists in indignation.

“Oh. Well why didn’t you just say so.”

Venomous grabbed him, dipped him and gave him a big, showy smooch to a chorus of metallic whistling and cheers from the platoon of Jethros.

“Whaaa…” Boxman commented intelligently as he continued to hang off Venomous’s neck.

“You can ‘snog’ me anytime, Boxman. I couldn’t care less who saw us,” Venomous explained matter-of-factly and adjusted his grip more comfortably.

“Ok,” a blushy and happy Boxman nodded in the crook of his neck. He was definitely planning to take him up on his word.

Chapter Text

Boxman sat up in bed and tried to make sense of the situation, willing his nether regions to ignore the fact that there was a sliver of purple butt clearly visible on one side of the giant blanket cocoon his partner had just morphed into. This was… definitely new.

“Uuuhm, PV...”

“I’m sorry. This… happens to me sometimes. Not often. Rarely. Once in a while,” the cocoon mumbled and tightened.

Boxman cocked his head and ignored the sliver of purple butt harder. He had expected that at some point, some body issues would crop up. His slight puffiness in the waist area, for example, seemed to be a topic his partners usually gravitated towards. Or the ampleness of his posterior regions. Or the chicken-ly qualities of his arm. But he had certainly never expected the body issues to be Venomous’s.

“What did I do wr-” he started and halted. He hated it when his partners worded it like that. So he took a breath and tried again.

“Would you like to stay in there for a bit, or can I do something to make you feel more comfortable out here?”

Boxman could swear the cocoon was blushing. Well, at least it wasn’t bristling.

“It’s just that,” he ploughed on, poking his fingers together, “I’ve noticed before that you have… some...” he mumbled. “Well, that is to say, if you could let me know what it is, I can maybe stop stepping on your landmines?”

The cocoon wiggled indecisively, concealing a bit more of the purple butt, which Boxman was, of course, ignoring.

“Help me out?” He tried to change tactics. “I can’t figure it out myself. You’re...” he gulped “absolutely gorgeous.”

Had he never said that out loud before?

“And you’re so… in-your-body. You do yoga and stuff. And you’re strong and healthy. And really, really hot. Everyone with eyes can see that, so I can’t imagine what could be bothering you.”

“...That’s the problem,” the cocoon finally said.

“Huh?”

“Everyone with eyes can see it. And I’ve worked very hard to keep things that way. Ever since I was 14.”

“Oh.” Boxman’s eyes widened. “I completely forgot that you were a child celebrity hero.” He frowned. “As if being a teenager isn’t hard enough. Did you start at 14?”

“No. I started at 6-11. It was at 14 that I figured out what some, many people wanted from me, besides saving the world.”

“PV,” Boxman blanched. “That’s-”

“You have no idea, the kinds of things people would let you get away with while they’re dreamily staring at your pecs or taking pictures of your butt.”

Boxman felt searingly guilty for not having ignored it hard enough.

“So I weaponized my looks, even if it was unconscious at first. Which is fine, it works great for me.”

Does it really? Boxman wondered.

“Only sometimes...” the cocoon shifted and Venomous finally sat up and popped his head out, still tightly wrapped in the blanket up to his chin. “Well, sometimes, when it comes to actually being with someone, and not just distracting others with my looks… It gets a little too much.”

“Oh, PV...” Boxman reached out to hold his hands, but then settled for clutching the hem of the blanket instead. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I would have never guessed… What should I do? Or, or shouldn’t?”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Venomous gave him a tired smile and extended one hand to hold Boxman’s. “You’re already doing everything I could ask for,” he added quietly. “You’ve gotten me exploded, but you’ve never ‘stepped on my landmines,’ as you put it. I guess… I guess that’s one more thing I like about you.”

“PV...” Boxman seemed to be melting. Then he winced. “B-but I kept trying to hug you before we got together...”

“What, the hugs?” Venomous huffed a laugh. “I didn’t really mind. You always looked even more awkward than me. Besides, you never tried to grope my butt or anything. A lot of people learned the hard way not to do that.”

Boxman, not completely convinced, hugged him, blanket and all.

“Just so we’re clear,” Venomous said, nose now buried in Boxman’s tuft of green hair. “You have permission to grope anything anytime. In fact, I want you to.”

Boxman looked up at him, cheek smooshed against where Venomous’s chest probably was, and seemed to consider something.

“You wanna try this again, then? I have an idea.”

“Sure,” Venomous sighed and straightened up under the blanket. “I think I’m done panicking for the moment.”

Boxman hopped off the bed, turned off all the lights and opened the curtains. The moon and the plaza lights from the other side of Boxmore dispelled and softened the darkness, leaving the two of them as silhouettes in the warm night.

“And now,” Boxman grinned and crawled back into the bed “let’s see if you can open up this blanket a bit.”

Venomous laughed when Boxman tackled him on his back and smooched him. He pulled the blanket over the two of them, until they were cocooned together. 

Boxman wasn’t really sure if this would help Venomous, but it had worked for him in the past, to some extent. Besides, even if it didn’t work, being wrapped together in bed like that was very cosy.

“What’s the next step of your evil plan?” Venomous asked, caressing Boxman’s soft cheeks.

“Now I get you to show me all of those pesky places that make you feel insecure and I kiss them all!” Boxman announced triumphantly from atop him.

“Ouch. All of them?”

“Yes! Let’s start… here.”

Boxman wiggled down and for a moment, Venomous thought he had something scandalous in mind, but then Boxman’s warm breath and soft lips planted a gentle kiss on his chest.

Right over his heart.

Boxman wriggled back up and smiled at the surprised, happy, soft expression on Venomous’s face. Yes, he really, truly couldn’t wait to kiss all of those ‘pesky places,’ he thought.

Chapter Text

Professor Venomous had a certain reputation in villainous circles for having a dark and tragic past whose horrendous echoes he barely kept at bay, struggling day and night, and never touching alcohol because it might give his demons the opportunity to create a chink in his nigh-impenetrable armor of cool and aloof stoicism.

🎵🎶 “People get jealous 'cause we always stay together, Yeah, baby” 🎵🎶

That was wildly inaccurate.

🎵🎶 “I guess they really want a love like yours and mine, Together, forever” 🎵🎶

Professor Venomous did not dissuade anyone from believing it, and indeed, he did not touch even a drop of alcohol at any kind of villainous parties or private meetings.

🎵🎶 “I never thought that I could ever be this happy, Yeah, baby” 🎵🎶

But that was not because he was a teetotaler.

🎵🎶 “My prayers were answered for you came in the nick of time, Whoa, whoa, whoa!” 🎵🎶

Nor because he was weak or allergic to alcohol - although, he wasn’t particularly strong either.

🎵🎶 “I got this feeling that you're going to stay, I never knew that it could happen this way” 🎵🎶

And neither was it because he wanted to give a positive example to his ever-present young minion Fink.

🎵🎶 “Before I met you I was falling apart, But now, at last, I really know that we are” 🎵🎶

No, the real reason for his abstinence was a lot more personal and if it was ever to be revealed, it would have more far-reaching consequences for his villainous career than just some simple tragic past. No, the real reason was...

🎵🎶”TWO OF HEARTS, TWO OF HEARTS THAT BEAT AS OOONNNEEE” 🎵🎶

...Professor Venomous was the most utterly disgustingly happy, shmoopy, amorous, giggling, embarrassing drunk on Cob’s great green creation.

And Boxman was one heck of an enabler, he realized fuzzily as they reached the chorus of “Two of Hearts” and he draped his topless self in Boxman’s lap, one arm looped over his shoulders, bottle in hand, and the other swinging with the karaoke microphone.

Boxman was also hotttttt, he noted giddily, and huuuugggyyyy! Yaaaay!

His self-control, being what it was at the moment, decided it was a great idea to pounce on Boxman’s soft middle and bury his face in his chest, making happy cooing sounds and completely forgetting that he was in the middle of singing something. Boxman squeaked in surprise and dropped his mic. 

“P-professor, maybe we should head home? You seem...” Boxman gestured towards the fancy clothes scattered around in their karaoke room and then pulled Venomous’s face away from his chest just enough to survey the shiny purple cheeks and goofy expression on it. “...yes, you definitely seem ready to head home.”

“Hmmm, Boxy~~” Venomous purred and wiggled up to sit in the other’s lap. “You want to take me home? How forward of you~ I like ittt,” he giggled happily and flung his arms around his neck.

“Uhm. We live together, remember? How much have you had to drink, by the way?”

“Oh. Really?” Venomous squinted and completely ignored the second question. Then he practically shone with a wide, exuberant smile. “That’s great! My place blew up, you see, and that’s really inconvenient for having people over. Would you like to come over? You’re very cute.”

“Ah. So that lab accident didn’t dehimbofy you completely,” Boxman mumbled under his breath while gathering up the stray garments.

“Wot was that?” Venomous asked, amorously rubbing his face and flicking his tongue at Boxman’s exposed neck.

“Time to put on your shirt and go, I said.”

“Hmmm,” Venomous frowned in the deepest concentration. “No.”

“Oh come on, one Fink is more than enough. Clothes on.”

“How about we take yours off instead?” Venomous beamed at him. “That way we’ll match!”

“I could swear you weren’t this drunk ten minutes ago,” Boxman huffed as he tried to manhandle the extremely flexible and persistently handsy snake back into the fancy outfit.

“I’m not drunk!” The professor snapped, and then in the next instant, he had straddled the other and practically melted into happy goo all over him. “Cob, Boxyyyy, how can you be so perfect, you were made to be touched and fondled and...” he gave his mental thesaurus a thorough search “...squished!”

“That’s… I’m not perfect,” Boxman mumbled, blushing more than he wanted to admit.

“You are!” Venomous grabbed his cheeks in his palms and squeezed, looking absolutely distressed and grief-stricken that anyone would ever dare to think that his Boxy wasn’t perfect. “You are my perfect-est Boxy!”

And to further make his point, he took aim and pressed their lips together. He managed to nail the corner of Boxman’s lips and was about to continue, but to his sobering shock, he got gently but firmly pushed away.

“What...”

“You’re drunk, PV,” Boxman explained and finally managed to pull the clothes back on him while he was finally still with surprise. “I’m not making out with you like this.”

“You don’t want to?” Venomous whined, looking like Fink did when he was about to ground her.

“I do, but...” Boxman bit his lip, feeling tempted. Venomous’s lip quivered in what, Boxman suspected, wasn’t entirely 100% genuine distress. “We won’t stop there, and you know it.”

He sighed.

“I… I’m really happy that you moved in with me, PV,” he explained, more thoroughly (and more honestly) than he would have dared if Venomous had been perfectly sober. “But it’s been a while since… I’ve had… a real relationship. I’m not easy to get along with, apparently.” He gulped and went on. “I don’t want to ruin a good thing just because someone got drunk once.”

“Boxy...” Venomous breathed and did his best to sober up. “I’ll still feel the same way tomorrow, you know?” He caressed Boxman’s cheeks.

“Yeah, well, I’d rather hear that tomorrow.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.

“You’re a good Boxy, Boxy,” Venomous smiled happily and smooched his nose. “Now help me home, will you?”

“Anytime, PV.”

Chapter Text

Boxman and Venomous had certain… irreconcilable points of ideological disconnect. That is to say, they each had a thing or two which drove the other crazy after they moved in together. 

“Oh,” the Ernesto with Couples Therapy 101 (For Dummies) installed said off-handedly when they presented their grievances in front of him (read: had a shouting match in the kitchen). “So in fact one of you has unchecked anger issues that make him unable to healthily process his beloved partner’s harmless idiosyncrasies and thus endangers your relationship?”

“What do you mean, ‘harmless’!” Venomous hissed, after he was done being shocked.

“What do you mean, ‘iss-” and then Boxman stopped and glared suspiciously. He knew his kids better than Venomous did, after all. “You are talking about him, aren’t you, son?”

“Am I?” Ernesto asked, just as lightly. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see which one of you has an angry outburst first to find out, won’t we?” And he beamed beatifically at the two evil geniuses.

An hour later

“No, Stink, you’re not approaching this situation as a mature villain, take it from me,” Boxman was saying on the phone when Fink’s name attracted Venomous’s attention. 

Are the two of them… bonding!? He thought in shock before beginning to eavesdrop in earnest.

“Well, now that all of your kidnappers are in the same room with you, the thing to do is off them quietly, mop up the evidence with bleach and come home to have a normal dinner. I’m sure you haven’t had a decent vegetable all day, and you know how your boss feels about healthy eating!”

“Give me that phone!” Venomous shouted and sprinted from across the workshop.

“No, kiddo, you can bring home the corpses and stuff to avoid littering charges. We have a perfectly good industrial incinerator at home, remember?” Boxman managed to impart this final bit of sage evil advice just before Venomous pried the phone from his talons.

He was perfectly calm as he did so. Yes. So calm. Not angry at all. Cob’s hair, so calm!!

Three hours and one dramatic kidnapping rescue later

“Dear Professor Venomous,” Boxman deadpanned, reading from the note that had found its way into their shared heap of official mail, attached to a brick, for some reason.

“I’ll see you at court,” he continued reading, eyebrows crawling up and jaw dropping down.

“Skull emoji; skull emoji; skull emoji,” he enunciated each one.

“I hope you’ll be wearing something loose and bright orange,” he went on, voice steadily increasing in pitch as well as volume.

“It’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about since the last time our paths crossed,” he read with the tone of a medium-sized volcano erupting.

“Very sincerely, Congresswoman!?” He finished reading while his talons finished shredding the brick to fine powder.

Venomous laughed lightly. With his eyes glinting. Flirtatiously.

“Ah, yes, dear old Congresswoman. She gets like that sometimes, when her zeal runs away with her.” He sighed happily and sipped his tea. “I just love her passion for me. I really couldn’t ask for a more devoted arch-nemesis. She really completes me, you know,” he propped his chin on his hand and honest-to-Cob giggled.

Boxman, as red, stiff and smoking through the ears as a malfunctioning Darrell, turned on his heels and exited the kitchen, a trail of tiny, tiny paper shreds following him.

Six hours and one all-Shannon attack on Congress later

“Dearly beloved,” Boxman ground out through tightly gritted teeth, his face only an inch from Venomous’s, “is it really too much to ask for you not to ask Big Bull Demon for pics of his… whatever this gross wiggly thing of his is.” He pointed to the stack of photos freshly from the mail that he was clutching.

“Gross? Gross!?” Venomous bisected a giant amoeba in startled indignation and explained with a death’s-head smile, “Sweetheart dearest, I designed that ‘gross wiggly thing’ for him. It’s a masterpiece of functionality and simplicity of form. And I made him take those pics for my evil portfolio.”

“The one that also contains seven different types of glistening pink multi-purpose tentacles for Vormulax, my cherry cupcake?” Boxman was absolutely not chewing on the corners of the photos of Big Bull Demon’s wiggly thing.

“The very same. And may I remind you, apple of my eye, that your portfolio contains the bubble butts of Billiam Milliam’s glorb-mining robots?^[1],” Venomous chirped, tone completely at odds with the way he stabbed at his recently doubled giant amoeba. “And while we’re at it, did you tell Fink to write an honest essay on her home assignment? The one titled ‘What I Did This Summer’?”

“Oh? Are you saying I did that wrong, too, sugarplum-and-cinnamon pie? Cos it sure worked for my kids,” Boxman was so calm and composed that his forehead was now grinding against Venomous’s.

“It was a creative writing essay, ever-blooming magnolia of my dreams,” Venomous explained, trying to grind Boxman into the floor with the sheer force of his forehead. “To teach young villains how to establish plausible deniability and alibis. Now thanks to your expert advice, the parents of half of Fink’s class, myself included, are under investigation for fraud, embezzlement, assault and intimidation with deadly weapons, stock speculation, bitcoin mining and one count of drunk & disorderly while impersonating the ear-of-corn stuffed mascot of a retirement home for scarecrow-craftsmen.”

“Wait, what?” Boxman blinked and almost lost the horn-locking duel.

“Yes, I know, what self-respecting villain would ever be caught dead mining bitcoins, am I right!?”

The two villains glared at each other for a long, supercharged moment.

Then, their mouths clashed together as if they hadn’t seen each other in a year.

“Cob dang it, you’re gorgeous when you’re mad,” Boxman broke away first.

“You’re so delectable when you’re angry I could eat you whole,” Venomous said with a marveling expression on his face.

They jumped each other with gusto right on the floor of Venomous’s lab.

Twenty-four hours, one giant amoeba extermination, some thorough lab floor cleaning and some sleep later

Under Ernesto’s watchful, smirking eye, the blushing, giggly, sickeningly courteous to one another couple presented themselves for an actual therapy session.

Chapter Text

“Where is my boss?” Fink growled as soon as she got in through the door.

“Fink Venomous?” Foxtail checked her tablet and cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Just Fink. I want to see my boss now.”

“Follow me then,” she said and led the way to the POINT holding cell.

The plain white cube with one transparent force-field wall sure was a sight. On one side, there was Congresswoman, of all people, being tightly hugged on all sides by Shannon, Raymond and Darrell. Ernesto was sitting on a plain bench in the middle, petting Mikayla, while Jethro was bonking against the force field. On the same bench was Professor Venomous, sitting hunched and facing the wall. Boxman, wearing a POINT T-shirt way too small for him, was trying to reach the force-field generator cells with a screwdriver.

“Boss! Are you alright, boss!?”

“Yes, Fink. Did you bring bail?” he answered without moving.

“Only for two people. You have the credit cards on you. But what happened?”

When Venomous said nothing, Fink put her fists on her hips and surveyed the rest of the group.

“I go on a school field trip once, once, and this is what you drag my boss into!?” she fumed. “Fess up, what did you clowns do?”

“Well, it was all Professor Venomous’s fault, really,” Ernesto mumbled, petting Mikayla dejectedly.

“No it was not!” Boxman and Fink screeched in unison.

“In fact, you started all this, son!” Boxman added and brandished his screwdriver as if he was going to call Ernesto to a duel to defend the professor’s honor.

“I had a perfectly viable, exciting business idea!” Ernesto said haughtily. 

“What I saw sure didn’t look like it,” Foxtail commented.

“It was great! I called it the BoxBox Of Opportune Mystery. BOOM, for short,” Ernesto petted Mikayla aggressively. “It was a subscription service for boxes.”

“Like… Just boxes?” Fink made a face.

“And what’s wrong with boxes!?” Boxman chimed in, singed.

“They would contain detonators, robots, accounting software for double bookkeeping, and other exciting necessities for the aspiring or professional villain,” Ernesto recited. “And it was all going great, until Raymond decided to butt in.”

“WHUOAT,” Raymond was so indignant he almost lost hold of Congresswoman’s foot. “Your little scheme was never going to take off without my masterful social media viral marketing campaign!”

“Pfwash,” Ernesto huffed. “It’s all posturing anyway.”

“I’ll have you know that under capitalism, the quality of the product has less to do with its success than its marketing strategy!”

“And yet, it didn’t take~” Darrell rolled his eyes. “Not until I suggested sending unsolicited BoxBoxes to a lot of people and then writing fake reviews from the recipients. That was the true genius of the scheme,” he explained with a puffed-out chest and a strong grip on Congresswoman’s bicep.

“I don’t care!” Fink shouted. “How did that lead to my boss being in a POINT cell?”

“Well, then one hare-brained bot butted in,” Darrell said venomously. “Or should I say, kitty-brained?”

Mikayla bristled and hissed something Fink couldn’t catch.

“We needed a big database of people who were into villainy or at least dealing in it,” Ernesto explained for her and Foxtail. “And Mikayla very, very reasonably noted that the largest one we have would be Professor Venomous’s business contact list.”

“Oh no,” Fink eyed Congresswoman, a notable contact of Venomous’s, sensing where this was going. “And then?”

“And then Jethro fell into a BoxBox on the packaging line,” Shannon sighed, adjusting her grip on Congresswoman’s waist and mouth.

“I AM JETHRO!” Jethro defended himself and bonked into Shannon’s leg.

“Well, you didn’t have to panic like that when they unwrapped you in Congress,” she bit back. 

“I AM JETHRO!” he said and bonked her leg again.

“Alright, maybe it was easy to assume you’d been sent to attack it, but why did you tell me it was one of Daddy's orders!?” She kicked him back. “I barrelled in right after you texted me about it and went right at the melee!”

“As if you’re the one to talk about proper communication,” Boxman brandished the screwdriver. “I thought that Congress was attacking you! So I naturally came with backup!”

“How can we possibly have been trying to attack you when the melee was in Congress, not in Boxmore!?” Congresswoman managed to get out of Shannon’s grip long enough to shout. “Hmmmpph!” 

“Home is wherever my babies are having a melee at!” Boxman said with the air of someone imparting great wisdom.

“Oh Cob,” Fink rolled her eyes. “And then what?”

“And then, in short,” Darrell took over once more, “daddy messed up the teleportation ray he had brought and transported the whole of Congress into what Congresswoman here tells us is an active volcano, according to what her colleagues texted her.”

“And then POINT swooped in and bagged us, Congresswoman, daddy and all,” Shannon summed up.

“Wow,” Fink managed to say after a stunned silence. “But still, none of that was even remotely my boss’s fault!”

“Actually,” Ernesto chimed in, peeved, “Lord Father misfired the ray only because Professor Venomous jumped him in that moment.”

“He was shirtless, alright!!” Venomous screeched, still hunched defensively in his corner. “He ripped his shirt off! What was I supposed to do, not jump him!?”

“YES!!!” everyone shouted at him, except Boxman, who giggled happily and blushed.

Fink facepalmed with a lot of feeling and handed the very entertained Foxtail a wad of cash.

“I’ll take my boss and the politician lady, please. You can keep the rest. Forever.”

“You heard the kid,” Foxtail chuckled and disabled a sliver in the field large enough for a slender adult to pass. “Out you go, and no more fighting.”

The bots released Congresswoman and she was out in a flash, but a skittish Venomous lingered to give Boxman a small smooch goodbye on the way out.

“Didn’t you already have enough of that for one day?” Foxtail snickered and Venomous bristled.

“I’ll just go get bail money and be right back, Boxy,” he said and pulled Boxman into a showy kiss while glaring at Foxtail.

“Aw, how sweet,” she smirked. “Boxman, you can keep the T-shirt. As a souvenir from POINT. Maybe wear it to remind your boyfriend not to jump you in the middle of fights.”

Venomous, grumbling, scooped up Fink and left for the nearest ATM without dignifying that with a reply.

Chapter Text

The first time Boxman had ever encountered The Shorts, he hadn’t given them much thought. After all, laundry at Boxmore was an art, not an exact science, and everyone regularly lost a chunk of their items. Besides, between Raymond’s fashion sense and Darrell’s cosplays, a set of short, neon green booty shorts was hardly anything notable. 

Well, maybe the fact that Fink kicked him once in order to reclaim them and called him a pervert should have given him a hint, but he’d just assumed they were hers. They sure were small enough to be. 

So he didn’t get the hint, and now he was faced with the might of The Shorts and the vast damage they were inflicting on his sanity.

Professor Venomous, having just finished his warm-up, slowly bent at the waist, legs straight, hands gripping his elbows, and continued to bend until his torso was practically flush against his legs. The tiny, loose, neon green shorts on purple skin were mesmerizing.

Boxman promptly fell off the fitness ball that he was supposed to be ‘strengthening his core’ with, wide eyes never leaving the shorts.

After doing something that didn’t change the fortunate position of the shorts for a while, Venomous assumed a position that looked a lot like a push-up. Boxman managed to take a breath and sit up with his fitness ball. Surely, the professor had not spotted him gawking, right?

And then the man put his forearms on the ground and popped his, erm, shorts, in the air, forming a perfect triangle. Boxman hugged the fitness ball and bit into it, not caring who saw him gawking anymore. Cob, was this the sort of thing that went on daily in his own factory, under his very nose!?

As if that wasn’t enough, one perfect, long, graceful leg went up into the air next, slender muscles tight and defined. Then the other leg. Boxman forgot how to breathe. Was the professor trying to kill him creatively? Fortunately, the exercise was repeated several times, including going back to kneeling position, which gave him a bit of time to recover.

When Boxman finally thought he had himself under control, though, Venomous gracefully arranged his forearms on the ground and then stood on them, shorts straight up in the air, knees bent to his body. He held for a moment, just enough for Boxman to get a good view, and then raised his legs in the air, body straightening up like a candle, or like portions of Boxman’s anatomy that he was trying to hide behind his fitness ball. He whimpered.

“You know, Box,” Venomous spoke, effectively giving Boxman a short-circuit, as he eventually slithered down to a sedate kneeling position. “There was a good reason I kept trying to invite you to come to the Boxmore gym with me.”

Boxman bristled, trying to hide his shape behind the fitness ball, and not failing to notice that their shapes were, in fact, almost identical. “I’m not much for doing yoga,” he mumbled. “I’m more of a strength exercises sort of guy.”

“Mmm,” Venomous honest-to-Cob purred, getting on all fours. “Yes, I know.”

Boxman wanted to scream. He was sure he knew in which direction the shorts would go next.

“Yoga does wonders for flexibility, though,” Venomous commented casually, and sure enough, up the shorts went. “People assume I’m naturally flexible because of the whole snake thing, but it’s not true,” he continued as one perfect leg went up again, and then flexed back, knee going towards one elbow, and then another.

Boxman propped his chin on the fitness ball and drooled.

“I like this routine so much better than the bodybuilding one Foxtail had me on when I was a hero. Don’t you think it suits my build more, Boxy?” Venomous went on as he eventually slid into a cobra position. When he didn’t get an answer, he took a peek over his shoulder. “Boxy?”

“Uh-huh,” Boxman intelligently debated the health and aesthetic merits of a slimmer, more flexible complexion versus a heavier, more muscular one, while hugging his fitness ball in a death-grip.

“Box,” Venomous sighed in exasperation and folded into an easy sitting position. “Do you know what I’m trying to get you to do here?”

“Yes, yes, of course, sorry professor,” Boxman jumped out of his skin and tried to crawl on top of his fitness ball. “Strengthening my core, yup, I’m going to strengthen the corn out of it! Yes!” He fell off again. “Stay put, stupid thing,” he grumbled and chased after the ball.

“No,” Venomous deadpanned.

“No?” Boxman asked cautiously, not at all hiding behind his ball.

Venomous stared at him with an unreadable face. 

Boxman started to sweat.

“I’m trying,” Venomous explained with eternal patience, “to get you to jump me.”

Boxman’s talons squeezed the ball so hard it popped.

“OH MY COB PV why didn’t you just say so,” Boxman jumped into his lap so fast that he knocked them both over, and landed astride the professor.

Venomous smirked evilly, looking all too content to be on his back below Boxman.

“What, the shorts weren’t enough of a hint?” he chuckled. “Then I should probably try it in the nude next, hmm?”

“I don’t have enough spare parts for all the short-circuits you’ll give me, PV,” Boxman gushed. “But if you’re looking for things to do in the nude...” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Venomous purred and pulled him down for a kiss and Boxman dove into it with enthusiasm, greedily tasting, breathing, feeling the other. He snuck an arm under Venomous’s waist, all the better to press him to himself, and giddily noted the sheer want in the way his arms wrapped around Boxman’s shoulders and his nails dug into his skin.

“And now Boxy,” Venomous smirked with his flush, glimmering lips, breaking the kiss. “Let me show you just how flexible yoga has made me.”

The neon green booty shorts sailed through the air before he even finished speaking.

Chapter Text

“It’s alright, Box,” Venomous had said while adjusting the cummerbund of his brand-new tux, fingers gently ghosting over the softness of his stomach. “I know you hate villainous parties. Go ballistic. Have fun. You don’t have to hold back on my account.”

“A-are you sure?” Boxman had fidgeted at that. “Cos I thought you-”

“I loved what you did at the last party,” Venomous had interrupted him with a smile. “You were magnificent.”

And then he had smooched his forehead, and that had been that.

Now, though, faced with all the possibilities for destruction at some nobody villain’s party, Boxman wasn’t so sure anymore. And Venomous, tucked in one corner like the poisonous wallflower he was, wasn’t helping.

He was networking. Apparently, it was very important for business. But at the same time, he knew for a fact that Venomous thought of the other villains as, well, villains and crooks. He shared the sentiment, of course, but now... The other villains hated him, and the idea of dragging down Venomous by association didn’t sit well with him. What was he supposed to do?

As if that wasn’t hard enough to navigate, there was also the problem of how to show that association. Of course, a lot of villains already knew that they lived together. Neither of them had made any effort to hide the fact. And Venomous claimed that he couldn’t care less who knew.

But at the same time, Venomous was… private. It was partly because it was better for business, but also because he had conflicting feelings about the kind of attention his appearance tended to get. Boxman had reason to know a lot about that. And so it was no mystery that Venomous had never once initiated any physical contact between them outside of Boxmore. It was understandable.

Also… it was a little lonely. Boxman had never in his life given a single dang about any of that, and it was all new and strange to him. Maybe he should have asked Venomous directly what would make him happy, he mused to himself as he sadly roamed with his glass of apple cider…

“...live together? Seriously?” he overheard from somewhere.

“Yeah, Venomous put giant signs and stuff all over the place to let everyone and their minions know he lives there now.”

“But like, that’s only for work, right? Look at him. He can’t possibly have shacked up with that… that joke villain!”

“You know what they say, no accounting for taste.”

“What’s he got to gain? Is he trying to get on the board of villains or something?”

“Well, I heard that Boxman’s little toy robots are glorb-powered. If there’s a secret glorb stash or something somewhere in there, a villain might wanna get his paws on that, even if it’s a package deal with a rabid chicken cyborg.”

“From what I’ve heard from Billiam, it takes more than a glorb mine to hit that sweet purple butt. I don’t buy it. There’s no way that joke of a villain could get that lucky. It must be just a business scheme.”

Venomous’s cider glass had shattered in his gloved hand at the first “rabid chicken” comment, but the hitting of the “sweet purple butt” made him go off the deep end. 

Count down from ten, he told himself, it will pass.

Ten

He already knew what all the villains thought of both Boxman and himself, of course. And he’d managed to navigate the waters of villainy alone for 6-11 years now - all without killing anyone. And besides, what did all those crooks know about anything anyway!?

Nine.

They were all potential customers. They could think whatever the corn they pleased, so long as he could charge them exorbitant prices for his inventions and get rich and powerful off them. And Boxman couldn’t care less about them either. He knew that for a fact.

Eight.

Speaking of Boxman... What in Cob’s name was taking him so long to wreck the stupid party? Last time he’d already been aiming missiles at POINT by now. He couldn’t wait to see their faces at whatever he would do this time.

Seven.

And seriously, were those people blind!? Couldn’t they see how much greater Boxman was than all of them combined!?

Six.

What else did he have to do to announce to the whole world that he was, in fact, with Boxman? Put up a billboard with a picture of the two of them going at it or what!?

Five.

In fact he would, if that didn’t require his own ‘sweet purple butt’ to be on the billboard as well. And Boxman’s sweet green one.

Four.

Oh Cob, now he couldn’t stop thinking about Boxman’s sweet green…

3

Dang it, he hated putting on a show for anyone at all. He’d had enough of posturing as a hero.

Two.

And yet, there he was, about to put on a show once again.

One. 

Yup!

He strode through the milling crowd to where Boxman was, grabbed him and lifted him up into a deep, showy kiss, one hand firmly planted on his sweet tuxedoed butt and the other on the small of his back.

Boxman yelped and his eyes went wide, his stubby legs kicking once, before clamping around Venomous’s waist, his fingers and talons digging into his shoulders. Then he greedily dove into the kiss.

Venomous should have rejoiced at the chorus of cheers and scandalized gasps, but once he was wrapped in Boxman’s heat and softness, bodies pressed together, breaths mingling, his weight grounding him, he couldn’t care about anything else anymore.

In the cocoon of Boxman’s familiar presence, in the middle of the stupid party, all anger and irritation abated and left behind only the joy of having his Boxy in his life.

And everyone else be danged.

“Boxy-love, didn’t you have a few detonators on you?”

“I thought you’d never ask, PV,” Boxman grinned down at him and whipped a detonator out of thin air. “Wanna do the honors?”

Venomous did. Very much so.

Chapter Text

Boxman and Venomous, locked in a heated kiss, stumbled into the still empty exhibition hall at Billiam Milliam’s mansion, which was the only place where the numerous party guests weren’t allowed, yet.

“Oh, PV, how can you always taste so delicious?” Boxman exhaled into the collar of his dress shirt and immediately latched onto the pulsing vein on the side of his throat, leaving a trail of sloppy, greedy kisses and gentle bites.

Venomous moaned. “R-remember that we’re here for a h-aaah… heissst… hmm, yes, Boxy, right there…” he managed to whisper before Boxman’s talons sank into his butt through the thin fabric of his summer suit, sending a shiver up his entire spine.

“Yeah, yeah,” Boxman purred and outright lifted him off the ground, looking around for a place to continue. Venomous melted - he went weak at the knees at even the most casual display of Boxman’s considerable strength, and being lifted up and manhandled? He didn’t stand a chance.

And then Boxman tripped and almost dropped him.

“What is that thing?” he asked, momentarily distracted from Venomous, who bristled and clutched Boxman tighter, before giving the thing a disgruntled look.

It was a sculpture of an enormous garishly spotted (and slightly rotten-looking) orange pumpkin surrounded by several equally psychedelic baby pumpkins. In a white box of a room.

“That’s the art piece I told you about, the one that we-”

“It’s perfect,” Boxman chirped and plopped him on top of one of the small pumpkins, conveniently compensating for their height difference. “Now, where were we?” he grinned and wriggled his eyebrows.

“Are you sure this is a g-aaah!” 

Boxman attacked his neck again, grabby hands slithering under Venomous's suit jacket to trace the shape of his body and to pull him closer. Venomous’s knees immediately parted to accommodate him.

Boxman hummed approvingly and slid one hand down his hip and thigh, while his mouth traveled up his jaw. He took a moment to nibble an earlobe before finding his panting, half-open mouth again.

“Box, I think we’re-”

“What, you can still talk? I must be losing my touch,” Boxman giggled and sucked on the already a little swollen purple lip that glistened so temptingly.

Venomous’s breath came in quicker, and he writhed on the uncomfortable pumpkin whose stem was trying to go places only Boxman was allowed to go. He tilted his head more to deepen the kiss while his arms wrapped around Boxman’s strong shoulders. Cob, he could feel the muscles move under the softness and the clothes, and he was absolutely weak for that…

“You… don’t think…” he valiantly tried to reason with the last of his resolve melting into a radioactive puddle, “that anyone saw us get in here, right?”

“Nah, they were all too busy sucking up to Billiam,” Boxman said, nuzzling his cheekbone while one hand was pulling at his necktie knot, trying to expose more of the slender purple neck.

“There may be security cameras,” Venomous said absently, trailing his palms all over Boxman’s delectably huggable belly and practically salivating over it.

Boxman licked the tip of one purple ear and then gave it a playful nibble. But then his eyebrows furrowed a bit. 

“Does it bother you? Being seen?” He then added sheepishly, “cos I think it’s hot.”

“Yes, it is,” Venomous sighed dreamily while groping both of Boxman’s biceps.

“Then that’s all that matters. I don’t care if we get caught if you don’t. I just want to make out.”

“Oh, Boxy…” Venomous’s arms wrapped around Boxman’s neck and he pressed his entire body into the welcoming, familiar warmth, while their mouths found each other again.

“Hey,” he grinned particularly evilly in a moment. “Do you want to continue this on top of the big one?” He motioned with his head towards the cucurbitaceous^[1] monstrosity occupying the middle of the room.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Boxman grinned back, just as evilly.

Billiam Millaim would have been tearing his hair clean off his head, had it not been made of gold, as he stared up at the ginormous screen. In fact, every single villain, minion and henchman in his whole mansion was probably gathered in the lobby to stare at it.

Up until fifteen minutes ago, it had been showing in real-time his latest acquisition, an incredibly expensive classical sculpture whose unveiling had been the official reason for the posh party. For the last fifteen minutes, however…

“Really, Venomous?” Cosma said, somehow sounding both impressed and unimpressed at the same time. “You’re the three-time winner of the Temps’s ‘Sexiest Villain Alive’ annual ranking, and that’s the one you picked? Did you find him in your trash can or something?”

“I dunno,” Big Bull commented, tilting his head at 90 degrees to better follow the action and covering Small Calf Demon’s eyes. “The cyborg’s very spiffy for a guy of that… shape. Very flexible, too. I couldn’t do that with my metallic parts.”

The crowd applauded a particularly interesting use of the big polka-dotted pumpkin sculpture’s stem.

“Well, at least that solves the mystery of Boxmore’s acquisition,” Vormulax concluded, slurping her cocktail through an evil plastic straw, eyes glued to the screen. “Dang, the bookies are going to have a field day. If there is a crazy genius out there who bet on this being the reason, they’re going to be richer than Billiam very soon.”

“Hey, is anyone recording this? I need it for… reasons,” Succulentus Jr. chimed in, having discovered something new about himself while watching the video.

Billiam Milliam, who had had designs of his own on certain parts of Venomous now thoroughly featured on the screen, daintily stomped his feet, steaming in frustration.

Meanwhile, unobserved by anyone at all, a squad of Darrells cheerfully carried Billiam’s entire gold bullion out the back door. As far as heists went, this was the easiest one they’d ever been in.

“Wow, Professor Venomous must be really good at distractions!” The Darrells all thought in admiration. It really paid to have such a devious, laser-focused villain on their team!

Chapter Text

Not that Boxman was an incurable romantic, but waking up to a cold, empty bed when he was used to sharing it with (a mostly nocturnal) certain someone seemed kind of rude. Not worrying, no, there was nothing to worry about. But… worth checking out.

So his first stop was the kitchen, where he found Fink sipping hot chocolate and going through what looked like a stack of sales orders. Boxman blinked in surprise. He didn’t see her very often doing… actual minion stuff. Huh.

“Already fed ‘im,” Fink answered his query distractedly and set aside a few of the documents in a separate pile. “If I were you, I’d stay out of his hair for now. It’s that time, you know.”

Boxman didn’t. And before he could find a tactful way to ask, Fink finished reviewing her documents, took her hot chocolate and gave him one last glare.

“I’ll be working in boss’s lab today. And you stay away, capiche?”

Boxman did capiche. As soon as her back was turned, he trotted to Venomous’s office.

“OUT!” Venomous shouted before the door even properly opened and a rubber ducky flew towards the peeking Box.

SLAM

“And stay out!” carried through the now closed door. 

Boxman willed his ruffled feathers to settle down, took a brief moment to consider committing violence against the office door, before then shaking his fists in exasperation and stomping off.

Fine then! Let the grouch stew all by himself, devoid of my loving early morning cuddles! See how he likes it! Hmpf!

As it turned out, Venomous didn’t avail himself of the generous supply of free cuddles at lunch either, or after lunch, or in the evening. Fink bearing food was the only one who went in and out of the closed office, which Boxman had not at all been keeping his eye on. This wasn’t what Boxman had pictured living with Venomous would be like, even after accounting for the impracticality of having daily romantic flights on the desk with sparkling apple cider, Belgian truffles and light-grade missiles. 

After it got dark and his children disappeared off to their rooms and the factory slowed down for the night, Boxman started to feel a little… well, he started to feel Venomous’s absence a little too keenly. Which shouldn’t have happened, really, Boxmore was practically the same as it had always been, and he had never missed anything before while he still had his work.

Venomous probably also had his work. Or whatever he was doing in there. Really, Boxman shouldn’t disturb him, he thought. He’d made it very clear that he didn’t want to be disturbed. It was the mature thing to do.

Five minutes later, Boxman stuck his ear to the forbidden office door. 

After a moment, he imagined he could hear a low growl.

He cracked the door open just a bit and peeked in. No shouts. The professor was in his office chair, seemingly unaware of the peeping Box, scribbling furiously in red pen in a thick and fancy book. In a moment, he stopped to rub tiredly below his stern professorial glasses.

Oooh, PV in stern glasses, Boxman swooned, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be all rejected and offended.

He used the moment to whoosh into the room and duck behind a big potted plant conveniently put midway between the door and the desk. Again, no shouts and no projectiles. He dared to take a peek through the foliage.

Venomous continued to scribble. It was probably best not to disturb him. He did look awfully serious…

“Heya, PV! Watcha doing?” 

“Oh my Cob!!” Venomous jumped in his chair and clutched at his black, black heart.

Boxman poked the top of his head from behind the desk, giving Venomous his best big, shimmery eyes. Venomous sighed and rubbed below his eyes again.

“Can I help you, Boxman,” he growled.

“Well, it’s getting late, and I was wondering...”

“No! No, I cannot go to bed before I finish this infernal nightmare!” Venomous hissed and stabbed the big fancy book with his pen.

“What is it? Can I help?”

“It’s PhD dissertation season, and they stuck me with thissss,” he flicked his forked tongue at the book “filth. This absolute trash. This unholy abomination. And I have to review it and give my ‘expert opinion,’ Cob ‘em all! Whoever allowed these people to do interdisciplinary dissertations, WHO!?” he screeched and pulled his hair.

“Errr...” Boxman scratched his green tuft, vaguely remembering that for other people, getting a degree did indeed involve defending a thesis in front of an examiners’ board. Personally, he’d received his in exchange for the promise to never, ever approach his alma mater again, and especially not with anything even remotely explosive at hand. Less of a defense of his thesis, more of an offense, if you will.

“Last year,” Venomous hissed, looking only slightly wild, “one absolute little git did an interdisciplinary between social sciences and astrophysics.” He grabbed Boxman by the lapels and dragged him on the desk. “They couldn’t get the examiners to so much as sit in the same room without a fistfight breaking out! Social Science! And Astrophysics, Boxman!”

Boxman, wide-eyed, patted his head in commiseration and alarm.

“And this year, her cobsdanged little boyfriend is applying Marxist theory to coastal shrimp populationsss! And I have to review it! I don’t even know what half of it even meansss!” Venomous shook Boxman as if he’d personally educated the shrimp about Marxism, and then drooped, thunked his head on the desk and went on murmuring something while blindly stabbing the dissertation with his pen.

“Ooookayyy,” Boxman took a deep breath, adjusted his lapels and slicked his hair. “Desperate times, eh?”

Venomous grumbled indistinctly.

“Hey, PV, these are reading glasses, right?” He asked cheerfully and plopped his butt on the edge of the desk. “You can see just fine without them?”

Another grumble and a stab to the dissertation.

“Aaalright,” Boxman dispenned him, grabbed him by the labcoat collar, and unceremoniously lifted him to sit up straight. “Maybe enough commie shrimp for one day?”

Venomous glared, but didn’t protest. 

“Can I take off your glasses?” Boxman asked, cupping his cheeks and wiggling to sit between him and the abused book.

“Okay,” Venomous said, and was it Boxman’s imagination, or did he get a bit more purple at that?

Boxman’s fingers gently slid up stubbly purple cheeks and into shiny black hair and carefully caught the temples of the glasses. Venomous didn’t say anything when he lifted them off his face and put them away, just blinked adorably short-sightedly while his eyes adjusted.

“Heh,” Boxman giggled as he cupped his face again. “You have little purple marks on your nose now.”

“It’s been a long time since I wore them all day,” Venomous mumbled, looking up at Boxman.

Boxman’s fingers slowly slid up to rub at the marks - first his right hand, and then, when Venomous didn’t stop him, the sharply-taloned left hand, too. Venomous seemed completely unperturbed by the wickedly sharp talon mere millimeters away from his eye. Boxman rubbed gently away from the nose once, then twice, and Venomous’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Feels nice,” he murmured.

So Boxman continued to gently massage his face, careful not to let the rough, scaly skin of his left hand chafe the worryingly tired and thin-looking skin of his partner. Who purred quietly in the otherwise cosy relative silence of nighttime Boxmore. Boxman stifled a snicker.

“You know,” he said instead, “I was hoping to find you in bed this morning. Usually I’m the one who wakes up earlier.”

“Commie shrimp,” Venomous hissed lazily, eyes still blissfully closed.

“Maaaybe you could have left me a note?” And then he imagined waking up to an empty bed and a note saying nothing but ‘commie shrimp.’ “Well, maybe with a bit more than just that on it.”

Venomous shrugged noncommittally. 

“It’s just good to know what’s up with you, you know. So I don’t, er… so we’re on the same page.”

“You don’t think I would prefer the shrimp over sleeping late with you if I had any choice, do you?” Venomous cracked open an eye.

“I didn’t know they were my rival,” Boxman snickered. “But now that I know, should I grow a mustache like theirs? Since you like them so much.”

“Don’t you dare,” Venomous chuckled. “And they’re called whiskers.”

Boxman’s fingers slid into his hair and went on gently massaging his scalp. Venomous practically melted.

The angle was awful, though, so Boxman slid off the edge of the desk and settled comfortably into Venomous’s lap. He was immediately pressed into a constrictor hug.

“I’m not used to telling anyone what I’m doing,” Venomous said, eyes closed and head leaning on Boxman’s hands. “Fink knows my schedule already and adjusts. I didn’t think you’d probably like to know too.”

“You can do whatever you want,” Boxman said neutrally. “I just… want to help. And if I can’t, I can at least drag you away before the commie shrimp kill you through overwork.”

“That sounds amazing,” Venomous breathed and leaned in for a soft, slow kiss on Boxman’s smiling lips. “Thank you.”

“Come here,” Boxman ordered quietly and propped Venomous’s head on his shoulder. Then he continued to rub gently his neck and down his back.

He didn’t think that such a trick would work, but in a bit, Venomous’s breathing evened out in that particular way Boxman knew so well, and he went to sleep.

Boxman smiled and waited a bit more before he gently climbed out of the office chair and picked up his sleeping partner in his arms.

Venomous just hissed quietly and nuzzled into Boxman’s neck as he carried him to bed.

The next morning, Boxman woke up to an empty bed once again, right next to a yellow sticky note saying “The commie shrimp are calling me! Come save them from me at 9 pm.”

He snickered.

Chapter Text

Hello, good citizens.

I, Chip Damage, am here to tell you that Chip Damage is no more.

I recently discovered that I am not a real man but a holo-man made to inspire future heroes.

I am sorry for the ruse, but now that Elodie, a real-life man, is in charge, you will have the hero you all needed in me.

I love you all.

Goodbye.

Lord Boxman stared at the close-up of a scattered handful of inactive drones on the podium where mere seconds ago had stood the most famous superhero since Laserblast. Dynamite Watkins and the crowd had already moved on to something about heroism and friendship and bright young things, but his eyes remained fixated on the shockingly easily forgotten husks rolling on the wooden floor. Why couldn’t he look away?

When the camera finally pointed elsewhere, at a blond-and-pink vision of the future of heroism, his eyes drifted towards the door that separated his office from Venomous’s. Had he seen this? What did he think of it?

Venomous had always been silent on the topic of POINT. He antagonized them only as much as his work demanded, but so did all of the villains with good self-preservation instincts. He made no comments on their victories, or on the nasty stories circulating about them. And most of all, he never spoke of Chip Damage.

There was no cause for concern, really. And yet, what Boxman had just seen had gotten under his skin. 

His feet took him to the door on their own accord and he knocked. There was nothing wrong with visiting his partner’s office, right? No reason not to. No reason to expect anything… special. For all he knew, Venomous had not even seen the news.

He pushed the handle and entered.

Venomous’s shoulders were gently rocking, just a barely perceptible movement in his hunched figure as he was clutching his face in his hands. Boxman’s eyes blew wide open.

“PV? Are you crying?” he blurted out before he knew what he was saying and ran over.

“What?” Venomous stilled and then turned around to face him. “Why would I be? This is hilarious.”

Boxman certainly didn’t like the leering, unhinged expression on his face, but at least he hadn’t been crying, he thought in relief.

“But, but, but he… he killed himself!” Boxman stabbed his finger accusatory at the TV. “Right there, right in front of everyone! And then they just shrugged and had a party!”

“Well what did you expect?” Venomous looked at him in dark amusement as if he was some poor, naive baby bot. “How did that famous saying go? ‘The crowd that applauds your coronation is the same crowd that will applaud your beheading.' People like a show. Or did you buy into that whole ridiculous idea that heroes are actually a better class of people?” 

His blood-thirsty grin made Boxman shiver, and not in the good, thrilling way that witnessing Venomous’s villainy usually did. Not that he didn’t have a point, he supposed, but...

“But he killed himself,” Boxman repeated anyway, the image of the drone husks firmly embedded in his mind’s eye.

“Why are you so shocked?” Venomous asked lightly and propped his cheek on one fist, elbow on his knee. He was just as Boxman’s eye-level like that. “So did I, before him.”

Boxman stared at him, wide-eyed, uncomfortable cold sweat breaking out on his skin.

Ah. So that’s why I can’t let it go.

“No… But… You’re still here,” he objected weakly.

“But Laserblast isn’t,” Venomous explained patiently and flashed a shiny fang. “I just did it in a smarter manner than good old Chip. Heh,” he huffed a cheerful, slightly manic laugh. “I bet Greyman named him. Only he could come up with such a lame pun.”

“What is happening in POINT, even?” Boxman shook his hands, trying to shake off the cold dread in his gut. “Is this normal for superheroes? It can’t be, can it!?”

“Looks like it’s the norm,” Venomous chuckled way too happily. “Foxtail and Greyman wanted their perfect superhero so badly, they made him up. Over and over again. First, there was me. And I fell short. In every way. Cob, looking back on it, it’s breathtaking, all the ways in which I fell short of the ideal.” He laughed and leaned back in his chair.

“I’m not sure that’s-”

“And when Laser wasn’t around anymore, they tried to literally manufacture their perfect hero,” Venomous laughed even louder. “Nice and obedient and tireless and strong and selfless and handsome and righteous and perfect, Cob dang it, so perfect! Only he wasn’t real! I’ve never seen such a big fat metaphor in my whole life.”

Boxman was hit by the weirdest sensation that this whole scene was somehow unreal, and he had no idea what to do when Venomous’s laugh turned bitter and he hid his face in his hands again, doubling over as if he was suddenly in pain. Was he?

“PV?” He stepped closer on reflex, wanting to somehow comfort his partner and not knowing how.

“Cob, Boxman, you have no idea how long it took me to get over Chip’s absolute perfection,” he said in a hollow, quiet voice that had nothing to do with the glee from a minute ago. “I knew other heroes who were pretty great. Carol. Greyman. Rippy. So many of our old colleagues,” he went on as Boxman looked for a place to touch him that wouldn’t startle him. “None of them were perfect. They were stronger than me, yes, and better in many different ways, but not perfect. So I told myself, I’m doing what I can. None of us are perfect. If I try just a little harder… just some more… If I push myself just a bit further...”

“PV, please,” Boxman pleaded and tried to take him by the hands. They didn’t budge from his face.

“I consoled myself that it was useless to try to be perfect, because nobody was. I couldn’t be a perfect hero, because I was a real man of flesh and blood, and ideals are not. I was faking it just as much as everyone else, I told myself.”

“And then you saw POINT parading Chip,” Boxman finished his thought.

“I spent years, years trying to get over the fact that I was barely gone and they found someone perfect to replace me right away,” Venomous finally looked up at him and let him grab his clammy palms. “And after all these years, it turned out that he wasn’t real either. He was even more of a fake than I was, if that’s even possible. What do I do with this knowledge now, Boxy?”

Boxman didn’t have an answer. For all he cared, POINT and everyone involved with it could go and explode themselves like their poster boy had just done. For the first time, he felt that he really, truly hated them. He loathed them for putting his PV on this path. 

“You’re a villain, PV,” he tried anyway. “And you’re perfect. Just like this, just the way you are.”

“Box…” Venomous looked so endlessly tired when Boxman cupped one taloned hand to his stubbly cheek.

“You’re perfect, you hear me?” Boxman almost shouted, trying desperately to get Venomous to hear him before his demons convinced him otherwise.

“You really believe that?” Venomous’s face twitched in what may have been a small smile or a pang of pain.

“Of course I believe that!” Boxman sputtered and shook his fists in frustration at the universe. “Come ‘ere!”

He grabbed Venomous’s lab coat lapels and pulled him down into a heated, desperate kiss, trying to somehow convey all the ways in which he thought his partner was perfect despite all of his imperfections. Venomous pulled him up into his lap and Boxman held him close, as close as he could, and pressed into him and clung to his solid, warm, familiar body and firmly forbade himself from feeling, at the back of his mind, as if the other had somehow, without moving an inch, taken a step in a direction that Boxman couldn’t follow...

Chapter Text

Professor Venomous placidly arranged tiny rocks in muted colors in a pleasing, artificially natural pattern. One by one. Until they were juuuust right. Slowwwwwly.

Next to him, Boxman was ready to start chewing on the table.

“PV,” he whined. “What in Cob’s hair are we doing here, exactly? The event hasn’t even started, and it’s already so...” he winced “posh.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Venomous hummed good-naturedly. “You were the one who insisted on coming. I was going to take Fink with me, like every year.”

“Is she any good with this? Fink?”

“She’s great with visitors,” Venomous said and carefully rearranged a slightly bigger rock to create an auspicious little swirl in the pattern. “I love having her on one of these things.”

“Really? She never struck me as very zen.”

“Give her a new videos game and a juice box and she’s the Bodhidharma^[1] incarnate.” He shrugged. “Or at least she would be if he'd growled at anyone who came within three feet of him and bit on any reaching appendages. He might have, history isn’t very clear on that point.”

Boxman stared in supreme disbelief.

“She’s an excellent plus one,” Venomous defended her as he took a tiny rake and started on the artistically grainy sand. “You have no idea how quickly any amorous leeches get away from me once I shove a kid in their face. And if they don’t, I let her get some martial arts practice on them. Also, I never explicitly specified to them whether or not she has rabies.” He grinned just a tad evilly.

“I can fight off any leeches, too! I can do anything she can!” Boxman pouted very maturely, feeling ruffled up at the implication that Stink of all people was better than him at this. Or at anything at all.

“Yes, Boxy, so you said when you chucked her out of the convertible and hopped in her place.” Venomous said in a conciliatory tone. 

“At least we have an actual booth this time with a table to hide behind, unlike the last event you took me to.”

“You mean the party where you blew up one entire turret and two watch-towers on Big Bull Demon’s new suburban “Dungeon & Castle Experience” venture? Burying his artfully classical dungeon maze under tons of rubble in the process?”

“What even is it with villains and dungeons?! That’s so old-fashioned! What are they, too good for a normal pit of molten lava or, or giant sandworm, for whoever has the garden space?”

“It’s so old-fashioned that it’s coming back in fashion, actually. Big Bull was saying that there’s a whole bunch of pre-reservations from adventurous young heroes eager to be chained to a cold, hard wall and done unspeakable things to,” Venomous grinned just a bit. “Come to think of it, maybe you did Big Bull a favor by keeping those heroic types away from him. I don’t think he knew what was about to hit him.”

“Now you’re making me feel bad for destroying the studpid castle,” Boxman sulked in his chair.

“I’m sorry, Box, I didn’t mean to,” Venomous said placidly. “You were being exceptionally evil. I was thrilled to watch you go at it. As always.” 

He made a tiny, hidden easter-egg of a heart-shape in the sand when he saw out of the corner of his eyes that Boxman had that adorable little blush on his face at the compliment. Thoughts out of the gutter, Venomous, he thought.

“Whatever got you so wound up at that party?” He asked after a bit, when he was done creating soothing wavy patterns. “I know you don’t like them much, but…”

“It was horrible!” Boxman’s nails and talons dug into the armrests and he went pink. “Everyone wanted to talk to me, now that they know I’m your partner.”

“Well that’s not really-”

“Which would have been fine, or at least bearable, but they all kept talking to my crotch instead!” 

“Your what now.” Venomous dropped his tiny scissors.

“I don’t know what they thought I had stashed in there!” Boxman fumed and Venomous had to delicately kick a swinging indignant fist away from his exhibit. “I’m too afraid to imagine, given the looks some of them were throwing at my pants!”

Venomous also gave the said pants a look and suppressed a giggle. They were just the right tightness and giving him ideas, especially since he did know what was stashed in there. Gutter, thoughts, etc., he chided himself.

“I had two, two separate people slip me their phone numbers at that stupid party!” Boxman fumed on. “Even though I did my best to act as a complete party-pooper! Apparently, that was ‘rebellious’ and ‘unconventional’ and ‘hot,’ all of a sudden!”

“Is that so,” Venomous said smoothly, snapping in two the tweezers he held. “Could you pass me their numbers once we get home, Boxy? I just want to talk to them.”

“Sure thing, PV,” Boxman grinned.

“By the way, the pamphlets are over there in the pocket of my duffle bag. Can you get them ready for the visitors?”

“You have pamphlets?” Boxman’s eye twitched. “Which part of this monstros-” and then he caught himself under Venomous’s warning glare “-ly beautiful, erm, specimen, needs pamphlets?”

“Maybe you can read one and find out?” Venomous suggested. “They’re only eight pages long.”

“Eep,” Boxman said and shrunk in his chair, looking adorably terrified of the tentacled bonsai and its pamphlets. “I’ll just stay here veeery quietly and supportively and… enjoy… this… beautiful thing” he finished in a mumble. “Maybe you can tell me about it? It must be-”

Venomous kissed him. Thoroughly, and to the sound of a few of the other contestants’ whistling and cheering.

“Whaaa…” said intelligently a dazed Boxman.

“Thanks for accompanying me, Box,” Venomous said primly. “It’s great to have you here. I’m sure our tentacled bonsai will win this year. Now just stay put and quiet for me, Ok?”

A pink Boxman happily nodded in agreement.

Chapter Text

Boxman hopped on Venomous’s lap and happily wiggled his butt until it was comfy on the rather hard legs below it. That chair was hardly the most comfortable place they’d ever gotten cosy on, but it would have to do.

“Hey, PV~ <333”

“Hey, Box. What’re you doing… here?” Venomous asked, wiggling his eyebrows and pushing away the laptop with his presentation.

“Ooh, nothing, nothing. Just wanted to give you a hug,” Boxman said suggestively as he wiggled his butt again, propping his forearms on Venomous’s shoulders.

“Is that all?” Venomous’s eyebrows crawled up, before his face shone with a bright smile. “Ok, that sounds nice. You’re always welcome on my lap, you know. I like hugging you,” he added, and demonstrated by giving Boxman a nice, tight hug worthy of his reptilian cousins. Nobody could accuse him of lacking enthusiasm. Boxman coughed and went only a little purple in the face.

“Always?”

“Uh-huh. You have my permission to crawl on my lap anytime.” He paused, then added, one finger up with a theatrical flare, “well, within reason, of course. I wouldn’t want you doing that during a budget committee meeting at my university.”

“Well, it’s just that...” Boxman doodled with one finger on Venomous’s shoulder in a show of shyness. “Yesterday, when I hopped on your lap, you took that as an invitation.”

“Well, first of all, that was yesterday, not now. Also, yesterday you said it was an invitation, and today you said it’s not,” he explained patiently and bounced him a bit on his knees. “I don’t know you well enough yet, to guess what you want if you don’t tell me. And even if I did know you well, I’d still always take you at your word.”

“Really? Always?”

“Of course.”

“Hmm...” Boxman made a show of deep consideration, finger poking at his lip. “What if I was shirtless?”

“Awww, I love it when you run around shirtless,” Venomous cooed way too amorously and then coughed and corrected himself, “By which I mean, I think you’re very attractive. But being shirtless is not an invitation.”

“Whaaaat if I was making eye contact while undoing my shirt on my bed by candlelight with jazzy music playing and a rose between my teeth?” Boxman grinned evilly.

A small choked giggle sounded.

“Eep,” Venomous said eloquently as he subtly adjusted his beloved’s butt in his lap. “I mean, I’d have my suspicions then, but I’d definitely take you up at word if you said no.” Then he couldn’t help himself taking a little bit of revenge “Also, I’d think your tastes were a bit cheesy, to be honest.”

After giving him the very mature bleeeh, Boxman went on with “well what if I was drunk?”

Someone’s phone vibrated, but it went ignored.

“Boxman! I’m appalled! Appalled!” Venomous sounded indignant. “I would never make out or do anything with someone who was drunk, or high, or passed out or anything like that! How would I know if they’re saying yes to me or to the image of Chip Damage in their own head!?”

“Chip? Really?” Boxman sniggered. “I think you need to pick someone more age-appropriate.”

“If you were drunk,” Venomous ignored him and went on, “I’d offer you some water and put you to bed, in the literal sense,” he stressed, “no matter what you said. Drunk makeouts are only for after we’ve discussed them sober and decided what to do. I’m a villain, not a monster, remember?”

“Hm… And what if we’ve been together for some time? Like you just said that I’m always welcome on your lap?”

“Doesn’t matter. If you’re saying it’s not an invitation, it’s not. If I decide that I don’t want you on my lap in that case, I’ll say so, and you should take me up on my word.”

“That sounds like so much work,” Boxman complained, channeling his best impression of a whiny Darrell. “Aren’t we men supposed to know these things, you know, by instinct and all that?”

There was definitive enthusiastic sniggering at that.

“Hm? Well, whoever said that, obviously has never met any men whatsoever,” Venomous deadpanned. “Instinct, my rattling tail. You can’t know what anyone wants unless you ask them. I’ve tried to invent mind-reading rays, trust me, it’s never worked.”

“And your way works better?”

“Of course! Just ask, and then go by what you’re told. It’s not that hard.” Venomous happily nuzzled at Boxman’s neck. “I like being with you. We can always find something safe that we both want to do.”

“So...” Boxman pressed their foreheads together. “We should always both be into it, right?”

“Right.”

“In that case, Professor,” Boxman purred and threw a glance at the clock in the corner of the desk. “I really feel like a good, long kiss right now.”

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask,” Venomous breathed and greedily pressed their lips together.

Someone coughed loudly, but Venomous and Boxman continued to make out to their heart’s content, until finally parting with happy sighs.

“And that concludes our presentation on consent,” Venomous said cheerfully as Boxman hopped off his lap. 

The Board of Villains stared bug-eyed.

“We’ll email everyone the power point later, and we’ll take questions next time. You can also email them beforehand, if you’re too shy to ask in person,” Venomous explained politely as he adjusted his rumpled lab-coat.

“That’s wonderful and all, but… why tell us all this?” Billiam Milliam asked, looking completely mystified. “I’ve never once asked a hero for their consent before shooting missiles at them.”

“And that’s nothing to be proud of, Billiam,” Venomous chided him coolly. “Good communication between arch-nemeses is paramount to the long-term survival of their arch-adversarial relationship.”

Billiam stared for a moment and then surreptitiously took out a notebook and started scribbling.

“I think he meant to ask why do we need to hear this?” Cosma chimed in, looking like she was trying hard not to look interested.

“Oh, this isn’t for you,” Boxman leered gleefully. “This was just our rehearsal. The presentation is for our next guest visit to Fink’s school.”

“How dare that Miss Quantum send us, us, a strongly-worded note that we’re not volunteering for enough parental participation!” Venomous gesticulated wildly. “She wants participation? She can have it!”

The two evil geniuses cackled evilly while most of the Board of Villains groaned and facepalmed.

“Well, actually,” coughed Big Bull Demon who had been attentively silent so far, “you should always get consent from all parties involved before doing a scene like… now. That includes your audience. Which in this case means us. And we didn’t consent.”

Venomous raised a finger and opened his mouth to object, realized he couldn’t, and his finger drooped. Everyone else stared at Big Bull Demon.

“What?” he asked. “I do own a dungeon.”

“Was it that sort of dungeon?” Boxman eyed him suspiciously. “I thought...”

“Well, it wasn’t supposed to be. But after you, Boxman,” and he glared hard, “exploded my Dungeon & Castle Experience, a lot of the heroes who had made pre-reservations came forward offering help to rebuild it. Very nice, friendly people. Very, very full of information. So just sit down and let me have a look at that presentation of yours.”

“Wouldn’t this be a bit advanced for Fink’s…” Venomous started.

“I said, sit down and give me the presentation.”

Boxman and Venomous sat down and gave him the presentation.

“And where do you think you’re going, Billiam? Sit down.” Big Bull Demon huffed. “Never asked a hero for their consent, I swear.” He cracked his metallic knuckles and pulled the laptop to himself. “Now, let’s start with some basics…”

The meeting of the Board of Villains carried long into the night and everyone emerged thoughtful, enlightened and with discount coupons for the grand reopening of “Big Bull Demon's New & Improved Dungeon & Castle Experience.”

Chapter Text

Professor Venomous had known no peace since Boxman had discovered the cobsdanged Laserblast books. The man owned a whole pack of honest-to-cob library cards now, and had discovered that he could just not return the books he took, like the villain he was, and so his overdue hoard was ever-growing.

It was a fresh new torture every week.

“Hey PV,” Boxman said once they were both tucked in bed, reading. “How were things between you and Gar back in POINT?”

“Nothing special. We had very little in common and I think he didn’t like me much,” Venomous replied absently. “In hindsight, it was probably because he had a crush on my girlfriend.”

“Are you sure about that?” Boxman squinted up at him. “I think his crush was and still is on you.”

“HWUOAT,” Venomous ripped his newspaper in two and stared.

“Well it makes so much more narrative sense, when you think about it!” Boxman explained giddily. “I didn’t see it until now, but this analysis here is excellent, do you wanna read it?”

Venomous very deliberately took the offered book with two fingers, and while maintaining eye contact, dumped it in his bedside drawer and locked it in.

Venomous strode down the hallway, mentally going through everything he had recently done that could have upset his Boxy so badly. He’d hardly believed it when a worried Darrell had told him that his daddy was sobbing in his lab.

“Boxman,” he called gently, closing the lab door behind him.

Boxman, back turned towards him, surreptitiously brought his sleeve to his organic eye.

“Boxy,” Venomous whispered, laying comforting hands on his shoulders. “What happened?”

“It’s so sad, PV,” Boxman’s voice trembled. “How can it be so sad!?”

“Box…”

“‘He deserved a different ending - light and glory, to crown a life of strife against all odds, or mayhap the gift of softness in old age, to celebrate a life of love and friendship and belief in all that is good; but this is what he got instead - a flash of light, and void devoid of stars. And what is left to us, those who are left behind, but to believe that our tears cried for him will turn to glorbs and carry on his name?’” Boxman quoted with a quivering voice.

“Hullo, I’m right here!” Venomous shouted, turning as purple in the face as that bit of prose. “Don’t bury me yet!”

Boxman gave him the saddest, most shimmery look he’d ever seen.

He grabbed his e-book reader and chucked it into the nearest incinerator.

“It was old,” Venomous said sweetly at Boxman’s scandalized look. “I’ll buy you a better one.”

Venomous’s jaw dropped when he walked into their bedroom, bringing sparkling apple cider, cakes, and amorous intentions, and discovered that Boxman had, as it were, had the same idea as him, only… without him.

“P-PV! I-it’s not what it looks like!” Boxman shouted, flustered and covered up to his chin with the blanket.

“Oh, for Cob’s sake!” Venomous resisted the urge to down the bottle of sparkling apple cider. “Is that- Give me that thing!”

‘The Hero Who Wore A Codpiece’ joined its brethren under lock and key in his nightstand.

“Hey PV, is it true that tulips continue to grow even after being cut, although they only live up to a week?”

“Hmm?” Venomous hummed, eye stuck to a microscope. “I didn’t know you had an interest in biology? But yes, it’s true.”

“Oooh!” Boxman sounded delighted. “And apparently they mean ‘love declaration’ in the language of flowers?”

“Language of…” Venomous frowned, still tweaking his microscope. “No idea. That’s not scientific. Why, didn’t you already make your ‘love declaration’?”

“But, but, but! Didn’t you learn that sort of thing at the flower shop!?”

Venomous’s startled and stuck his eye with the microscope. “How do you know about that? I only worked part-time in it for one danged summer!”

“And Megan’s gym was just down the street and she would stop by to say hi?” Boxman practically sparkled.

“How do you know Foxtail’s civvie name!?” Venomous stared with one rapidly purpling eye, and then paled. “Oh Cob don’t tell me you’re shipping me with Foxtail now!”

“Pfft, no silly,” Boxman waved that off. “I’m only 17 chapters in and the love interest hasn’t appeared yet.”

“And who might that be?”

Boxman giggled evilly. “The young Crinkly Wrinkly.”

Venomous threw him out of his lab.

“Hey, Boxman,” a hand in black leather glove thumped on the wall next to Boxman’s head as soon as he entered his workshop.

Boxman looked up from the dark grey, heavy boots, up slender black-clad legs and waist and chest and up at a helmeted face with a positively scandalous smirk on it. He drooled only a little at the sight.

“You really like Laserblast, eh?” Venomous purred. “So I thought, why don’t I indulge you and show you what we heroes did to bad, bad guys like you?”

Boxman almost had a heart attack while nodding enthusiastically.

“Well first of all, we tied them up,” the ex-hero said and demonstrated with worrying proficiency.

Boxman was a heap of pink hearts.

“And then, Boxy,” one gloved hand slid down his cheek to his neck and tilted the excited villain’s face up. “We hung ‘em up and left ‘em to dry,” the seductive voice whispered in Boxman’s ear.

“Huh? Wait, what?”

Venomous shut him up with a deep, possessive kiss. Swiftly followed by a gag.

“Hmmpff!?” Boxman expressed his wide-eyed indignation over the handkerchief in his mouth.

“Hang in there for a bit, villain,” Venomous grinned and quite literally propped his beloved like a ham on a nearby hook. “I have a couple of errands to run.”

“Hmmmpf!!”

“Oh, and Box?” Venomous, taking off his old helmet and pulling on a coat, casually tossed over his shoulder on the way out. “Do you know what else we did to villains?”

“Hmpf?”

“We returned their overdue library books,” Venomous grinned with heroic innocence and slammed the door.

“HMMMPFFFFFFF!!!”

Chapter Text

Boxman’s old desk was a mess, and it wasn’t Venomous’s fault when the stack of old papers practically fell into his lap while he was trying to find a calculator.

As a pretty private person himself, he didn’t like to snoop through other people’s belongings, even if it was appropriately villainous. But when he saw, among the clutter, one long, very shapely pink-clad leg peek at him, he couldn’t help pulling the picture out.

Dr. Blight, the infamous eco-terrorist, was winking at him with infuriating satisfaction while striking an evil pose, one hand grasping a gun with a clearly visible Boxmore logo on it.

He looked at the picture for a long time. Apropos of nothing at all, the thought came to him: I burned the last picture of Carol I ever had just before the donut shop disappeared.

“Box, do you want to do some eco-terrorism together? Destroy the planet, and all that maize?” Venomous asked when they were both cooped up in the lab, working on an order for Cosma.

“Huh? But we live on it,” Boxman looked up from his blueprints, pencil in mouth. “Why would we want to do that?”

“It’s very villainous, isn’t it? Showy, too. More exciting than this, wouldn’t you say?” He waved vaguely to the work in progress.

“Hm… Cosma is paying well, and you said this is just the sort of big, safe project Boxmore needs right now, boring as it may be...”

“It’s what supervillainy is, Boxman,” Venomous hissed, more harshly than he’d intended. “First, you build a solid foundation, and only then start doing the risky stuff. I’m sorry if it bores you.”

Boxman blinked at him. 

“Aaalright… But PV, you said-” then he shook his head. “Ok, nevermind, only… why eco-terrorism, all of a suddent? You hate it. You even supply at preferential prices those bright young villains with the funny slogans, like ‘join us in beating heroes and global warming’ and ‘villain, vegan, vici’! And your university does conservation!”

“Do you want to or not,” Venomous squeezed through gritted fangs.

“No, not anymore,” Boxman said decisively, after considering for a moment with a faraway look in his eyes. “I got some… feelings about it,” he explained and buried himself back into his work, obviously closing the subject to further discussion.

Feelings, Venomous seethed and spat venom inside. And what kind of feelings would those be?

He sprang up, needing to do something, to get away from there. Boxman didn’t even look at him.

The woman dropped you like a dirty tissue the moment you weren’t useful to her anymore, and years later, you still have “feelings.” Is she that unforgettable? Are you that much of an adrenaline junkie? I thought that was my thing.

Or is it that you don’t want to soil the oh-so-happy memories by doing the same with the boring, safe old me, is that it?, a darker, more insidious voice whispered in his head.

On cue, the security camera footage that he’d acquired before they were even together played on loop in front of his mind’s eye - the gloriously disheveled Boxman, all sooty and smitten, kissing Dr. Blight’s hand in the middle of the absolute carnage the two of them had wreaked together.

Venomous saw red.

He grabbed at a startled Boxman, lab coat lapels, suspenders, shirt and all, lifted him clear out of his chair, shoved him on the desk and clashed their mouths together.

It was an aggressive, possessive kiss, the kind he needed to convince himself that Boxman wasn’t slipping away from him, that he wasn’t as disconnected and removed from him as finding that photo had made him feel, the kind that should have reassured him that his Boxy was still his.

My Boxy. Mine.

He pressed tightly into the familiar, warm softness of Boxman’s body, and his hands slipped away from his lapels, wrapping around him, trying to pull him closer, closer than that, as close as he had been before he’d found the cob-forsaken photo.

Boxman hummed, but he ignored him.

And then, just as suddenly, his anger boiled over into something bitter and sad and made his kiss mellow out, and made it soothing, caressing, needing… until Boxman broke it off.

He gripped him even tighter, face buried in his green hair, breathing hard.

Boxman caught his breath in the nook between his shoulder and neck, talons reflexively scratching gentle strokes through his black hair. When had Boxman’s arms encircled him like that? 

“PV,” Boxman eventually said. “Have you been, incidentally, going through the stuff on my bedroom desk?”

“No,” he replied, like a villain.

“PV?”

“Maybe.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It was an accident.”

“What can I say. I probably do have a thing for leggy evil scientists. Guilty as charged,” Boxman snickered, still holding onto the other and combing his talons through his hair.

How dare he laugh, when I’m… like this.

“You’d like it if I was more… flashy, wouldn’t you?” he hissed. “You like that. Explosions and colors and noise and stuff. And I tend to… keep a low profile. And make you do safe, boring projects.” 

“I like you just as you are, PV.”

The unperturbed, matter-of-fact tone made the purple mist in Venomous’s head start to clear and he braved a glance at the warm, familiar mismatched eyes. 

“Personally, I don’t want you to change one bit,” Boxman added and cupped his cheeks. “Well, if you want to, of course, you should, and I’ll try to support you as much as I can. But as far as I am concerned, you’re perfect just the way you are. You hear me?”

“Boxy…” Venomous breathed out and felt the blood rush from his head to his face. 

What was I even thinking?, he scolded himself. This is Boxman. My Boxy. 

“I shouldn’t have… looked at your stuff.”

“That’s fine,” Boxman waved it off and gently rubbed a thumb on his cheek. “Just remember what I said, alright? I meant it.”

“I will try,” Venomous nodded and kissed him again.

Chapter Text

“PV!” Boxman shouted and rushed into his office. “You wouldn’t believe this! It’s Sonic! Sonic the Hedgehog!”

“Boxman, I asked you to leave me alone. I don’t know who that is and I don’t care,” Venomous answered without even turning from his desk.

“Oh, come on! Sonic! The only hero whose POW level is not a number! And he’s here! We can kick his butt! Isn’t it exciting!?”

“Very. So go on and take care of him.”

“But don’t you want to join me? Come on, it’ll be so much fun! And to make things even better, his arch-nemesis is that jerk I went to college with, Egg-”

“Boxman!” Venomous’s fist banged on the table, but his voice mellowed out immediately. “I’m not interested. I’m sure you’ve got it all covered. You’re doing great with running things. Now please, leave me alone.”

“But…” Boxman tried one last time. “But you love attacking heroes with me, and we haven’t done that in weeks!” He waved his arms around in exasperation and then added more quietly “When you moved in, didn’t you say that’s exactly what you liked about me? That I reminded you that there’s more to villainy than emails and board meetings?”

“And your point is?” The professor finally looked at him over his shoulder, all dark glare and venom.

“I’m fine running Boxmore by myself, I built it, after all,” Boxman sighed. “And the kids practically take care of themselves now. And of course I’ll go kick Sonic’s butt. I just wish you’d join me.”

Venomous didn’t say anything.

“I just… don’t understand. If you don’t want to work with me anymore, or fight heroes together, or raise the kids, or just… be with me, if all this doesn’t make you happy… why are you here?”

“Are you saying I should leave!?” Venomous hissed in a tone that made the other man jump a little.

Boxman gave him a long look from across the big, echoing lab.

“No, PV, this is the exact opposite of what I’m saying,” he finally replied, then turned around and quietly closed the door behind him.

Venomous growled, low in his throat, and pressed his palms against his throbbing, splitting forehead, trying to breathe. 

He held out a grand total of a minute before tears mixed in with the sweat on his face. Cob, he was tired. He was so tired in body, but also tired of himself. Every single word that came out of his mouth somehow ended up meaning the opposite of what he wanted to say. Everything he did only drove a wedge further between him and the rest of the world. Fink was the only one who stayed. And Boxman. 

Although Boxman… even through this nightmarish, shadowy mess that his mind felt like, he could recognize the signs. Boxman was leaving. If not today, then tomorrow. And nothing he could do would stop him - not because Boxman didn’t want to stay, but because he couldn’t so much as express that he didn’t want him to go.

Cob. Cob Almighty, he was so horrifyingly tired of himself.

Boxman was gently patting his elbow when he woke up. He realized he was still in his office chair, and not feeling any more rested than before. He probably looked terrible, judging by the way Boxman took a step back from him, giving him a look that he had no capacity to interpret at that moment.

“Fink told me you had a migraine again,” Boxman said, quiet and hesitant. “I guess I disturbed you at a bad time, yeah? Sorry about that.” He tried to smile, but it didn’t come out very convincing. Boxman was a horrible liar. It was one thing that he loved about him…

There he comes again, all ready to grovel. Let him stew a bit. Show him who’s boss.

Venomous almost jumped out of his skin at the hissing voice in his own head. He was appalled that he’d think something like that. It was monstrous. And he was a villain, not a monster, right? 

“PV..?”

Venomous just stared at him, not trusting himself to open his mouth after the thought he’d just had. He tried to suppress it, push it down and never think of it again. He tried to think what the right thing to say was. There had to be a way to explain…

You’re a funny little chicken with no real powers. You can’t offer me anything.

“Please, say something…” Boxman sighed. “Talk to me.”

It was the last thing Venomous trusted himself to do. He shook his head.

Boxman’s shoulders sagged. He was going to turn around and leave again. There had to be something, anything he could do to stop him…

Venomous’s hand reached out and caught Boxman’s in a death-grip that trembled. 

Please…

Boxman seemed to understand him because he climbed up in the office chair, in his lap, and pulled him into one of his expansive, deep, soft, strong hugs. Was there an end to the things he loved about the man? He gripped Boxman’s round middle and held on for dear life. Sharp, careful talons scratched gently at his scalp and a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“I am sorry,” he finally managed, looking up at Boxman. It was all he could say. He’d rehearsed the three words in his head, not trusting himself with anything that could come out of his mouth instead.

“PV...”

He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t say anything further. All he could do was to keep the thoughts in, where they couldn’t hurt anyone else. So instead, he cupped Boxman’s cheek in a shaky hand and pulled him down for a kiss, hoping that it would convey his apology better than he could.

Happiness blossomed in his chest when his chafed, dry, salty lips touched Boxman’s soft, moist, familiar ones, and for a moment, he felt hopeful.

After all, he had no way of knowing that there was someone else watching him kiss Boxman from inside his own head.

Chapter Text

An explosion rocked Boxmore and blasted open its front doors.

“Venomous, you villain! Show yourself!” Someone roared and a blond mane bounced in through the smoke and debris.

“So glad you noticed,” Venomous hissed, taking a moment to remove a shard of the former front door from the glorb cylinder he had ducked behind. “I take it that some evil plot of mine came to fruition?”

“You’ve crossed the line this time! That was low, even for you!” Carol raged, supported by a stammering “Yeah” from somewhere behind her. She flung the dislodged door clear to the other end of the factory floor. 

“Thanks, but you’ll have to be more specific than that,” Venomous hid behind some debris again, sensing that he was going to be next.

“I’m talking about Foxtail!” Carol tried to make a grab for him, but he ducked even further. “Come here, you snake!”

“Huh? I have barely talked to her in, like, six to eleven years!” Venomous complained from atop an engine.

“And yet you told her that you’re KO’s father!” The engine followed the dislodged door. “She’s been at the dojo the whole morning! I barely got rid of her!”

“Ah, well, that is a terrible ordeal, to be sure,” Venomous smirked from behind a pile of now scrapped Darrells. “But that wasn’t me, that was KO himself. I’m innocent for once.”

“Oh, don’t give me that! I know you instigated it!” Carol mowed through the Darrels. “Somehow!”

“Weren’t you two friends?” The now disembodied voice asked. “And even if you aren’t, what business is it of hers who your kid’s father is?” 

“It is her business ‘cos she’s the head of POINT now and KO gets survivor’s benefits from POINT!” Carol fumed as she looked around for her target. “Because someone doesn’t pay child support!”

“You’re so mad because of some benefits!? OOF!!” Venomous was so surprised that he dropped from the ceiling grating where he had been hoping to avoid further righteous wrath.

“I am mad-” Carol used his momentary dizziness to finally get a good, solid grip of his lab coat lapels- “because Foxtail is convinced that I cheated on Laserblast with you!” She practically spat the last word.

Venomous’s suddenly, gleefully glinting eyes and puffed absolutely-not-laughing cheeks did nothing to calm her down.

“And I’m mad because Foxtail cannot be convinced otherwise and she’s loud and her voice carries perfectly all over the whole plaza!”

Venomous burst out laughing. It wasn’t even a particularly evil, portentous laugh. 

“You think this is funny!?” She shook him. Hard. “Eugene now has well-wishers coming out of his ears who try to warn him oh-so-covertly what a cheater he’s dating!”

“Y-yeah!” Came the stuttering agreement from somewhere behind again. “And Enid and Rad had to explain to KO that Carol cheated on a Go Fish game! He was very sad that we played it without him!”

Without dropping his wide smile, Venomous suddenly tensed, dropped down, shedding his lab coat to leave it in Carol’s clutches, and slithered up an exhaust pipe so fast she couldn’t get a new hold on him.

“Well, technically, by the time KO must have happened, I was already going by ‘Professor Venomous’ for certain… deals I had to make to get my experiment materials, so Foxtail was on to something there,” he snickered, and then added, just to make them angrier: “El-Bow, old buddy, you should really have the monogamy talk with your girlfriend, if you're into that.”

“Hey, PV, what’s going on he-”

KABOOOOOooooMMMMmm

“Ouch, ouch, ouchie!” Boxman whined and tried to scuttle away from the swab of disinfectant Fink was dabbing on the heroic footprint mark now crossing his face.

“Darling, you’re doing great, just be brave a little longer,” Venomous cooed and made himself even more comfortable, wrapping around him from behind. “And Fink, be gentle!”

“I am trying!” She fumed and stuck the swab straight into a forming scab. Boxman whined louder. “This high heel would have left a scar if it weren’t for my Boss’s special healing ointment, so stay put and be grateful already!”

“Grateful!” Boxman fumed and Venomous propped his chin on his head to keep him calm as Fink continued her expert ministrations. “What for!? One moment I’m checking on an explosion on the factory floor, and the next, I have a face full of Carol and Gar! And now everything hurts!”

“You were so very brave,” Venomous sighed next to his ear with quite inappropriate levels of amorousness for someone perched on a dissection table hugging his partner who happened to be half-covered in bandages. “Swooping in front of me to protect me like that.”

“I told you, I wasn’t ‘swooping’ anywhere! I fell from the second floor ramp! I just happened to land in front of you!”

“Now, now, Box, no need to be embarrassed,” Venomous nuzzled lovingly in his hair. “You know I’d never call you heroic or anything for what you did. I’m flattered, in fact. I could have handled them by myself, but the gesture was so sweet.”

“Get a room already,” Fink grumbled as she applied a huge plaster to the now clean high heel stab. “There, I think that’s all of them,” she concluded and gave Boxman a once-over.

“Thanks, Fink,” he mumbled, giving up on driving any sense into her boss.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go call KO and then warp his mom and that buff guy from where they're trapped back to his house.”

“Everything hurts, PV,” Boxman bemoaned pitifully once she was out. Too pitifully.

“Oh?” Venomous grinned. “Even here?” He nuzzled and kissed his neck.

“Very.”

“And here?” He lifted his hand to his lips and kissed its palm.

“Excruciating.”

“How about here?” Venomous trailed his fingers down his belly.

“Unbearable.”

“Yeah?” He suddenly swung Boxman to lie on his back, hopped on top and grinned down at him wickedly. “I bet you that if I try really hard, I can find a place to kiss that doesn’t hurt.”

“Oh, PV~~~<333” Boxman giggled, and Venomous went down to work.

Chapter Text

Boxman woke up from a dream of cold and swirling darkness, gasping for breath and grabbing onto…

...nothing.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus them on the other side of the bed, which was rumpled, but empty. A pass of his hand over the cold sheets told him that it had been empty for some time.

He sighed, turned on the lights, and rummaged for the expensive house robe that Venomous had bought for him when they’d first moved in. Maybe he was off doing some work, Boxman told himself. A lot of his experiments required attention at ungodly hours, and he did have business connections in many time-zones. 

Boxman didn’t keep tabs on him. He really didn’t. At first, it had seemed intrusive and controlling to do so. Later, when the times he had woken up alone in bed in the middle of the night had become the norm rather than the exception, it had seemed… pointless to do so. 

It was very villainous to have an alter ego, really. Very classical. Yes, Venomous was very into classical villainy. 

Well, Boxman had always figured Venomous would actually know about it, but as it turned out, he hadn’t. He felt vaguely irritated with himself for not speaking up about it sooner. Maybe then PV would have done something to get rid of Shadowy sooner, too…

The light at the end of the nighttime corridor at Boxmore made him speed up.

“PV? Are you working?”

There was no answer. He pushed the door open and blinked owlishly at the too-bright splashes of color coming from the screen.

“Fink?”

No answer. More murder happened on screen.

“Fink?” He popped over the back of the sofa.

“Oh my Cob!!” Fink shouted, startled, and almost fell off the edge of the seat, where she had been perched with her headphones on.

“What are you doing up?”

“Didn't see you, Boxbutt! Did you have to come out of nowhere?”

“I see, but isn’t it past your bedtime?” Boxman plopped next to her.

“And who’s gonna make me go to bed? There’s nobody,” she bit off and restarted the game.

“Ah,” was all the comment Boxman had to offer. 

So there was nobody.

Again.

Even though he’d said he’d take care of it.

(And had refused to get any help with that.)

Boxman grabbed the second controller and nudged Fink until she paused again to glare at him.

“Tell you what, if I win this round, I will make you go to bed,” he grinned a bit.

“No way you’d win against me!”

“If you win, we play another round and you get to beat me again. And then we both go to bed.”

Fink studied him suspiciously. He smiled angelically.

“Aaalright,” she finally conceded.

Three rounds of pixelated murder later, Boxman tucked Fink in, assured her they were not going to have cereal again for breakfast, or for dinner, turned off her alarm clock, and trudged back to his room.

He woke up again when the small hours weren’t so small anymore. There was a warm body pressing behind him and moist, quickened breath on the nape of his neck.

“PV?” he mumbled and made to turn around, but a strong arm gripped below his chest, sharp nails digging into his soft belly.

“Yes, Box, go back to sleep.”

“You alright?”

“Of course. What kind of question is that?”

“It’s just that… I woke up before and you weren’t here. Is there anything I could help with?”

“Just an experiment gone wrong. In the lab. You know how it is.”

Boxman would have happily and enthusiastically believed him. He wanted to, he really did. But he also knew what he had seen behind the spiky irritation in Fink’s eyes. 

Venomous never bothered to hide anything from Fink. And with her fine rat senses, she could tell better than anyone where he was, what he was feeling, and how long he’d been gone. Boxman was big enough to admit that he was the petty sort of villain to have envied her for that complete confidence she shared with her boss. 

Suddenly, though, it occurred to him that it was a double-edged lasersaber - while he, Boxman, could convince himself of anything if he wanted to, could make himself believe anything Venomous told him, she couldn’t. She knew that Venomous wasn’t there, in more ways than one.

“In the lab, were you,” Boxman asked weakly and felt the absence of confirmation from behind him.

There was silence.

“PV, you know I’d do anything to help you if-” Boxman tried one more time.

“Why do you keep offering me help?” Venomous hissed into his nape and his grip tightened around his belly. “Do I look like I need it that badly? Do you think I’m too weak to handle one Shadowy Figure?”

“No, that’s not...” Boxman sighed. Talking to his partner felt like playing hopscotch in a mine-field these days. “I know you can handle your stuff by yourself. But just because you can doesn’t mean you should. Not when I’m right here offering to make it easier for you. In any way you like! Whatever works for you!”

“You’re already doing a lot for me,” Venomous murmured.

“Thanks! And I can do more! No trouble at all!”

“Just do your own thing. It’s all I want from you.”

“But PV, I can help-”

“Shut up with the help already! Enough!” Venomous snapped at him, the harsh, barely contained ire shocking Boxman into silence. It was unlike anything he’d heard from him before.

After a silent moment, Venomous propped himself up on one elbow and let Boxman finally roll on his back and look at him. He didn’t look good at all, Boxman noted.

“It’s going to be fine, Box,” he said in his perfectly normal tone. “I’ve got it all under control.”

Venomous trailed a finger down his cheek and up under his chin and gave him a kiss.

Until then, Boxman had never known that lies had a taste. And yet, there it was, right on his lips.

Chapter Text

Boxman giddily tipped backwards overboard, pulled down by the weight of the air tanks and cheered on by the group of crewmembers and scientists, Professor Venomous’s colleagues, who would remain on board. Only a second later, his back hit the water surface with a surprisingly loud splash and then the world exploded in bright white foam, refracted light and the thud of his own heartbeat in his ears.

Then, silence.

For a strange, weightless, disorienting moment, he couldn’t move, or catch a breath, or do anything but look up at the retreating swirling shapes of small waves and rays of light. Strange, a thought swam in his mind, the water had seemed so much clearer when he had been watching it from above…

There was another disturbance in the watery ceiling above him and one more shape, in unnatural silence and slow motion, dived right next to him. Unlike him, this one moved immediately, turning around to him and closing the distance. Even through the diving visor, he could see the crinkles in the corners of the familiar black eyes, telling him that Venomous was smiling. Or probably laughing at him for looking like a sea-star.

All Ok? Venomous gestured at him.

Manta ray, manta ray! Lobster! Boxman replied, while trying to get his bearings and remember how to gesture All Ok.

Breathe, Venomous gestured, eyes crinkling even more. Hold my hand.

Boxman did, righted himself in the slow, close embrace of the ocean, and took a look around. The salty water made Venomous’s hand slippery, so he held on even tighter.

All Ok?

All Ok.

Follow me.

Venomous dove, as quick and graceful as a fairy tale mermaid, as familiar as the ocean was strange, and as dangerous, Boxman knew, as the toxic sea-creatures that inhabited it. He tried his best to keep up, never letting their hands part even when the other man’s grip relaxed.

Venomous was a marine biologist by education. He studied neurotoxins in particular, and there was no place like the sea to find them. Behind the villainous facade, he published articles, graded papers, and apparently, went on research trips with his colleagues. Boxman knew practically nothing about them until a place opened unexpectedly on one such trip, with the only qualification needed being “good with Excel, mops and sea-sickness.” 

And Venomous had said that it would be a good chance “to get away from it all for a bit.” Boxman couldn’t argue with that part.

All that seemed like a lifetime away now, and a thing from another world. The black basalt rocks contrasted with the vibrant reefs up close, but got blurred and lost in the murky blue way too soon. All was silent, and sluggish, and close, and dream-like, and all of his senses felt dulled. 

It reminded Boxman of the recurring dreams he had, where he was falling, or maybe drowning, flailing his arms out and reaching for something above, or maybe below him. Sometimes a purple hand caught him, and sometimes he sank in shadowy swirls of darkness, waking up at three in the morning, panting…

He gripped Venomous’s hand with both of his, willing him to turn around.

All Ok? Venomous’s eyes were just slightly rounded. Air? Cold?

Boxman shook his head, floating in place, watching the obscured black eyes watching him carefully back.

All Ok. You lead, I’ll follow.

Venomous went on ahead, seemingly scanning the reefs, searching for something. 

Descending, he turned around and gestured, and Boxman caught just enough of the glint in his eyes to prepare for what happened next.

Beyond the wall of coral they’d just skirted, there was an abyss. Boxman’s eyes went wide. 

Of course. The Blue Hole! He had almost forgotten the excitement of the scientists when they had found the chalice-like depression in the seabed, a treasure trove for science and photography alike, a hidden spot where even the already strange ocean became completely otherworldly.

And they were both gently falling into it. The sun seemed to shine all the brighter through the water, the waves refracting it in wild patterns over corals unlike any he had seen before, and iridescent crystals poking from the walls, and colorful fishes, and probably hundreds of the eyes of the ocean turned to them. 

Venomous, floating slightly above him, pointed to something and gestured.

Boxfish, Boxman remembered, and the pun on his name made him blub out air in indignation. The bright yellow little monster looked like it wanted to kiss him and got in his face. He flailed, became disoriented, and spun down towards the bottom of the cup. 

Shadowy swirls. Just like in his dreams...

A purple hand caught him and steadied him. Venomous, with his graceful movements and sparkling black eyes with smiles in their corners, reached out for Boxman’s mouthpiece. He held his fingers over it, a question clearly poised there. Boxman nodded. A moment later, salty water rushed at his lower face and lips, and even in his mouth that he belatedly squeezed shut.

Another moment later, Venomous’s lips found his - warm, soft, familiar. Steady hands caught Boxman and pulled him as close as their diving equipment would allow them, while Boxman’s flailed, just like in his dream, and he panicked for a moment, just for a second, until his own fingers stumbled on the other man’s suit, and got a tight, secure grip. Venomous was real. He was real, and here with him, in this impossible otherworld, and they held onto each other, suspended in this secret nook of the vast, timeless ocean.

When they parted, Venomous clinked their visors together, smiling brilliantly, breathtakingly for a moment, before his smile slipped behind his mouthpiece and remained visible only in his eyes. And in that moment, Boxman wished his dreams could be like this, too.

All Ok?, Venomous gestured.

All Ok! Boxman answered and gripped his hand tightly once again.

It was their last kiss for a long time to come. One last breath of happiness.

Chapter Text

At 6:00, Lord Boxman woke up and quietly rolled out of bed, trying not to wake up the other occupant.

At 6:30, Lord Boxman had already started on breakfast when Mikayla finally woke up and joined him in his small, but cosy cabin kitchen. He grinned and turned on the radio and reassured her again that she was more than welcome to visit anytime.

At 8:00 sharp, Lord Boxman arrived at Boxmore and gave the nearest Ernesto and Jethro a hug. Ernesto immediately started gushing about the pre-order figures of the new model they were working on.

Even though he didn’t run Boxmore anymore, Boxman was still the foremost specialist on the type of robotics done at the factory, and an excellent engineer and mechanic. Parting completely from his old work would have been painful, not to mention bad for business, so he was still heavily involved with design and invention. It was what he was best at, after all.

Also, it was simply good to get out of the house for work, once in a while.

At 12:30, Lord Boxman waved goodbye to his kids at Boxmore and left. In the nice, warm afternoon, the plaza on the other side of the highway looked pristine, just as it always had. In fact, it looked as if nothing at all had ever happened there. There wasn’t even a hole in the pavement where...

He had just headed in that direction when he saw the barber shop open up. Mr. Logic came out with a broom in hand and started sweeping, only to stop for a moment and look across the highway.

Lord Boxman remembered that Beardo made excellent burritos, and his truck was parked just a little further down the road at this time of day. It was a fine afternoon, and a little walk before lunch would be great for him, he decided.

At 2:00, Lord Boxman applauded enthusiastically together with the rest of the live audience when the projectors flashed, the cameras rolled and Ray & The Monds struck a lively chord. The two hostesses of the afternoon show dramatically whooshed past the curtains of the TV set and bounced to the center, already making some quips about some celebrity or another that Boxman didn’t know anything about.

He didn’t need to. He only cared about the younger of the two, currently decked out in skinny jeans, a pink sequin top, a neon green boa, and a purple wig with white ribbons. Shannon, as always, was unforgettable.

After the show, he got whisked away to her and Raymond’s shared dressing room backstage, catching up with their rapidly developing careers, until it was time for them to disappear off to their next gigs.

At 6:00, Lord Boxman arrived back home and was greeted with an excited Mikayla and a package full of fresh produce from Darrell, with a note attached.

“Hey, daddy! I’ll be off to the chicken fair tomorrow. I’ll be very busy, so I decided to send you this week’s package a little early. The corn is turning out great, so I put a few baby corns for you and the guys to try. Fingers crossed for me and Veronique! I think she can really win the fair this year.

Catch you next week,

Lord Farmer Darrell”

Boxman chuckled, folded the note and carefully tucked it in his wallet. He could invite everyone for a family dinner this weekend, he thought excitedly. 

Well, everyone who was still there, anyway.

At 7:00, Lord Boxman and Mikayla sat down for a simple, but rather good dinner. Having a big farmer like Darrell in the family meant that a lot of very delicious stuff came their way, and Boxman had always liked to cook. 

Now that he actually had time for it, he was also becoming actually good at it.

After dinner, he and Mikayla watched the news. Then he settled in his favorite soft armchair to do some reading while she curled in his lap like the kitty she was and seemed entirely content to nap there for a bit.

He had done a lot of reading lately. He was even considering going back to school, or at least taking a few classes to see if it was all as horrible as he remembered it.

A little after 9:30, Lord Boxman said goodnight and left Mikayla on his laptop and shuffled off to his bedroom. She had started to chat with her friends and was now excitedly bouncing at the possibility of having some human celebrity come to her friends’ approaching convention.

When he started getting ready for bed, it was still empty. That wasn’t as much of a source of concern as it once had been, so he just went on brushing his teeth.

It had been a great day.

At around 10, Lord Boxman finally allowed himself to be weak because it was dark, and late, and he was tired, and the bed was empty, as it always was, and he was never going to be anything other than alone in it.

Which was fine. His life was good. The best he could have, in fact.

He was moving on, as he ought to, and he didn’t regret it. He would not have done anything differently if he could, and he was so very happy for his children that he was finally learning to connect with. There was no gap in his life, and he didn’t hold any candle for anyone.

And yet, just for these few, private, late and dark moments, he allowed himself just the tiniest bit of unhealthy indulgence.

He pressed a kiss to his fingers and waved them up tiredly at the darkness and the endless night sky he could picture above his little warm cabin.

“Goodnight, PV, wherever you are. I hope the life you got is a really dang good one.”

With that, Lord Boxman finally curled under his blankets and went to sleep, dreaming of nothing at all.

Chapter Text

“What kind of minion would I be if I didn’t stand by you until the very end?” the Fink in his dream asked over her shoulder, just like she had so many times before. 

Venomous shouted, tried to warn her, to will her out of the way, to scramble up and somehow be in time to push her away, but he never managed, not even once.

And then, Fink’s little limp body lay prostrate next to him, like a rag doll, like the bags of trash in the sewer where he had first picked her up. He reached out and gathered her in his arms once again. He tried to push the long hair out of her face and his fingertips got smeared with sticky cooling blood from where the rough asphalt of the plaza had scraped off fur and skin.

He knew he wouldn’t find anything, and yet he pushed, yet again, his fingers against the side of her neck, and the soft of her wrist, and her fragile little chest. Nothing.

His vision swam and stung until all he could see was a dirty green blur he held in a death-grip to his chest that was constricting, painfully, terrifyingly. He struggled for breath, but couldn’t get any. He wanted to scream, but his throat wouldn’t open up.

Fink was dead.

Fink wasn’t dead, he struggled to remember, but couldn’t hold onto the thought, because wasn’t she right here, in his arms, as lifeless as the dolls he used to buy for her?

There was nothing in his arms, his body tried to tell him. There was no asphalt beneath him either, but a bed.

“What kind of minion would I be if I didn’t stand by your side until the very end?” the Fink in his dream asked over her shoulder.

He screamed silently and struggled to get out of bed, the image of the dark plaza superimposed on the darkness of his room. He could barely breathe and his fingers shook as he pulled on the nearest clothes he could find, stumbling towards the door, refusing to so much as think that there could be another kind of shadows inside the shadows. If he went down that road tonight, there would be no salvaging his sanity for days.

Some nights were like this. Some nights, his old life came to him bearing reminders of all the things he had wrecked in his path, and sucking the air from his lungs and the sanity from his mind.

He stumbled down the corridor towards Fink’s room (Was she really there? Really?) knowing that he shouldn’t, because she was a growing kid who needed her sleep, and because he probably looked bad enough to give anyone nightmares. But his mind was still full of images of her lifeless body clutched to his chest and he knew from experience that they wouldn’t go away until he saw with his own eyes her chest rise with breath, and felt a strong pulse and warmth in her wrists and heard her say something to him. He needed to know she was alive.

“Boss?” The lights came on in Fink’s room and she came out a moment later.

“I…” He struggled to find an explanation that wasn’t the obvious.

“It’s alright boss,” she said magnanimously, rubbing her eyes. “You know I also get nightmares sometimes. Wait a sec.”

She went back inside, and then came out armed with her pillow and her teddy and her alarm clock. “Can I sleep with you? Yes? Cool. Let’s go, boss.”

Venomous felt like the absolute worst failure of an adult human being as Fink grabbed his hand and led him back to bed as if he was the 6-11 year old scared kid and she was the responsible adult. But her hand was warm, and he could feel her pulse, and she was talking to him, and she was very much alive.

She’s alive. You didn’t kill her. She’s alive.

Some nights were like this. Sometimes it was Fink. Other nights, it was the unshakable conviction that Shadowy had somehow returned. Yet others, it was KO and TKO and Carol and Gene. And sometimes it was…

It didn’t matter. That life was behind him. He was never going to go back to that world. It was all in the past. He had done it all before, throwing it all away, leaving whoever wanted to celebrate and whoever wanted to grieve for him to do whatever they pleased. Moving on. Building a new and better life. Getting everything he wanted.

And it was great, this new life! He had everything he could ever ask for. Fink was alive. He was, too. He had a whole planet, for Cob’s sake! He still didn’t have his powers back, or any powers at all, but he had all his inventions and technology. He was the strongest! He could do anything! He finally had it all!

So what if it still hurt? It had hurt last time, too. He’d kept himself busy, just like now, and one day, he’d just woken up to realize it didn’t hurt anymore. It would be like that again, he was sure.

Yes. Any day now, he’d…

He’d get used to it.

It was his best life, after all. 

And even if it isn't, what other choice do I have now, he thought as he sank down into the murky depths of sleep once again, the warm, breathing, very much alive Fink tightly and securely pressed to his chest.

He woke up bathed in bright morning light when Fink’s alarm clock went off and she wiggled out of his protective grip to go make them breakfast. Usually he did that, but they both knew that he’d be useless for some time after a night like that. He’d have to find a way to make it up to her later, he thought. These days, he gravitated more towards making cupcakes and death-rays together with her, rather than buying her presents. It seemed to make her happier, and by extension, him as well.

When she was gone, he tiredly reached towards his nightstand where Fink’s rat alarm clock had pushed his old wallet out of the way. It had been on him when that whole mess had happened, and had teleported to this planet with him, too. He rummaged through it until he got the passport-sized photo he’d once carelessly shoved inside and then forgotten about. Until he got here, that is.

“Good morning, Boxy,” he said quietly to the photo and let the last two leftover tears from last night drop on his white bedsheets. “I bet your life must be dang good, now that you finally got rid of me.”

He kissed the photo and tucked it back in his old wallet. It was another great day of the rest of his best life, and it was high time to get up and face it.

Chapter Text

Boxman wanted him dead, Professor Venomous thought as he leapt out of the line of fire and behind the now ruined interplanetary relay station and its partially working laser shield. He rolled to a stop and checked his ammunition. If Fink didn’t get there soon, he’d be in serious trouble, he knew. There were just too danged many of the cobbed things attacking. 

“Fink,” he called into the device on his wrist. “ETA?”

“I’m coming, boss!” Fink replied through static and the unsettling scrape of nails on metal.

He found a niche and ducked in, trying to catch his breath and get himself together. Being the Cob-assigned tyrant of a whole planet wasn’t a safe job, of course, and he’d never asked for safety either, but this? This army of killer robots hit him in a way that a whole spaceship fleet would not have managed to do.

They were Boxmore killer robots.

And it hurt.

It had taken so long, cost him so much to prop up his shattered psyche and to put his life back in some semblance of order yet again and to just start functioning once more. And now the Boxmore logo he still saw in his sleep was suddenly everywhere, scattered all over like splotches of blood, and right above it were lines upon lines of cannons pointed at him. 

So that’s what Boxman felt for him now. He clutched his pulsing head and pressed a hand to his racing heart. Seeing the proof of what he had known to be true hurt a lot more than it should have. And remembering what he had done, he admitted that his Boxy was completely justified to want him dead.

Cob, the man was trying to kill him and he still thought of him as “his Boxy.”

“Boss! I’m here!” Fink sprung up straight from a sewer, with an excited gleam in her eyes and already dressed in her space armor.

Venomous only managed a nod as he grabbed his own armor from her and hurriedly started to pull it on while she recharged his gun.

So it was true. Boxman wanted him dead. Not too long ago, he might have even let him get away with it.

Like when he’d thought Fink had died to protect him. Or when he thought he had been exiled alone on an uninhabited planet. Or when he had learned he had been saved only because the son he’d twisted and manipulated had wanted him saved. Or when the nightmares devoured him and he woke up in tears and cold sweat, sure that Shadowy had returned. Or worse, on the rare occasions when he dreamed of softness and warmth and feathers and green and woke up only to remember how that had ended...

Come to think of it, he might still let Boxman get away with his murder. Only, he’d look him in the eye first and force him to do it himself, and not through his army of creations.

“The shield here is almost depleted. Now I’ll draw them away,” he tersely instructed Fink, “and you’ll head straight for the space port and get our ship ready. We’re going to pay someone a visit.”

“Yes, boss!” Fink saluted with a predatory grin and scuttered off.

The President of the Universe, after all, had informed him that this was his “best life” and ”what he wanted,” but he’d never actually specified that Venomous and Fink couldn’t leave their planet.

“Boxman! We meet again!” He laughed maniacally because it was all he could do at the sight of him.

“What are you doing here! Go back to your planet! Now!” Boxman shouted from atop his old flying desk, hovering above the bodega.

“Come down and make us!” Fink shouted gleefully and waved her gun at him.

“If you want me dead so badly,” Venomous shouted up, “come here and do your dirty work yourself!”

“Me!? I’m not the one who wants you dead!” Boxman shouted in indignation. “I’m not kidding, Venomous, get on your ship and go back! You can’t be here!”

“Oh, so your killer robot army just happened to land on my planet and start shooting and hunting me?” Venomous drawled and aimed his gun at the desk’s left engine. “Come down here or I’ll make you.”

“You never listen, do you!” Boxman fumed and took a wary look all around him, as if he was expecting an attack, before taking the desk lower. “First of all, I’m retired now!”

“You’re what?” Venomous’s aim and his grin faltered. “That can’t be.”

“And second,” Boxman went on, landing his desk, “the Boxmore robots are for sale, hello! Anyone can have a robot army with my logo! And this particular one was sold by Ernesto to your planetary neighbors, the Zblorgs! There! Can you go back now!?”

“I don’t believe you,” Venomous said. “You’d never retire. Boxmore is your life’s work.”

“And where was that awareness when you wrecked it, hm?” Boxman snarled and then immediately looked as if he’d bitten into a lemon. “Nevermind that. I’m not trying to kill you. But this is a trap and you have to go back to your own turf, where you’re not all alone like here!”

“Who do you think I've got there?” Venomous blurted before he knew what he was saying. “Fink is right here.”

Boxman looked at him with a blank expression.

“Mr. Gar! Mr. Gar! It’s Professor Venomous! In a space suit!” KO ran to the small office at the back of the bodega. “He’s right outside! And Boxman is there, too! I think they’re about to fight! Should we stop them?”

“KO. If you value your life,” Mr. Gar said and put a fatherly hand on his shoulder, “never, ever stand between a man and his ex when they haven’t seen each other since the breakup.”

KABOOOMMMMMMM

“Alright,” Mr. Gar calmly closed his Excel spreadsheet when the mushroom cloud abated, and got up. “Now it’s safer to go out.”

“Boss! Boss, are you alright!?”

Venomous lay in the scattered splinters of the flying desk, clutching a squirming Fink in a death-grip to his chest and shielding her. His head rang and he saw stars, despite the protective suit that had absorbed part of the hit. He blinked the blood away from his eyelashes and felt the throb in the wound on his unprotected head. Then his eyes fixated on a smattering of mint green.

“Box... man...”

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the old familiar voices of the bodega heroes arguing with whatever had fired that megacannon at him. And the blood dripped down his cheek. But still, he couldn’t get his eyes away from the prostrate form. Fink got the hint.

“Boxboss! Are you alive?” she squeaked and he finally relaxed his grip and let her go check up on him.

“Dang... that was my good desk,” Boxman mumbled when she shook him and helped him sit up, to Venomous’s enormous relief.

The sounds of heroic fighting carried over, together with the warning shout of “Venomous! Either croak already or get up and fight!” followed by an immediate “Mommy!” and “Carol!”

“You shielded us with the desk,” Venomous hissed instead, wide-eyed. “I thought you wanted me dead. Why wouldn’t you want me dead?”

“Dead this, dead that. Sounds like you want it more than I do,” Boxman commented dryly and got to his feet, not looking at him. “Anyway, the heroes are right, either get up and fight that giant Zblorgian mecha over there or go back to your ship. I would have offered you a ride, but...” he gestured at the sad wooden splinters under them. 

“I saw an army of your robots attacking my planet, looking for me!”

“Yes, I’m aware!” Boxman snapped at him. “That’s why I’m here, trying to get you to leave before the Zblorgs that bought my robots from my son manage to kill you! It’s called taking responsibility! The books say it’s good for you, maybe you should try it!”

“Boxman, look out!” KO shouted a second before another megacannon blast flew at them, misdirected in the last moment by a fortuitous elbow hit from Mr. Gar.

Boxman and Fink hauled him to his feet and ran, just in time to escape the impact.

“So this was just… a Zblorgian plot to lure me here and overthrow me?” Venomous shouted over the dying explosion as he found his feet.

“Having neighbors who hate you” huff “is the true mark of” huff “a successful” huff “villain!” Boxman wheezed.

“Boss!” Fink chimed in. “I managed to call over the ship’s land speeder! Get ready to jump!”

“We can’t leave Boxman!”

“I’m fine!” huff “My spare flying desk will come to collect me” huff “any minute now!”

Venomous threw a look over his shoulder and saw that the bodega heroes were now fighting two mechas behind them. He and Fink probably could have taken at least one down with their space armors fully-charged, if only he wasn’t that stunned. And not only by the megacannon blasts. If only he could take a minute to process it all…

“Boss! Hop on!” Fink shouted excitedly and leapt on the motorbike-esque land speeder while it was still moving. “Let’s regroup and go take the Zblorgs down once and for all!”

The bloodthirsty gleam in her eyes was contagious, but Venomous hesitated.

“Listen to Stink!” Boxman pushed him onto the speeder. “You’re no good to anyone dead!”

“But you-”

“Oh, for the love of Cob!” Boxman roared, grabbed him by the fancy space stand-up collar and planted a rough, clumsy, warm kiss on his mouth.

Venomous practically fell off his feet. He thought maybe his head wound was making him hallucinate kisses now.

“For the last time, I don’t want you dead!” Boxman shouted over yet another explosion in the background. “I never did! Personally, I never wanted you to leave either!”

“W-what??”

“All I ever wanted from you was to go back to being the person I used to know! The one I moved in with!” Boxman went on, shaking him by the spacesuit like a rag doll. “I wanted you to be you, and to be with me, and to let me help you, and to not be a planet-sized jerk who wrecked my factory and my robokids and neglected his daugh- minion and made his son suffer like he did! Villain, PV, not a monster!”

And then Boxman unceremoniously dumped him in the back of the land speeder and shoved something at Fink.

“Here, use this to disable the robots on your planet,” he instructed her and then waved her to take them both back to safety.

The last Venomous saw of that through the blood in his eye and the dust cloud raised by the speeding vehicle, was that Boxman was rapidly disappearing from view on top of his spare desk, turning to face the mecha with the help of the heroes and a small platoon of Ernestos coming his way.

It felt like… waking up from a long, strange dream.

And like every morning when he was capable of it, upon waking up, he recounted what he had to do.

First, go back to his own planet.

Second, reprogram the killer robots and use them to repair the damage.

Third, take down his neighbors the Zblorgs a notch.

And then…

And then, come back.

Boxman didn’t want him dead. Boxman wanted him to be himself, and not to be a monster. And he could do that. He also wanted him to take care of the people who mattered. He could… at least attempt it. He had wrecked so much before he had been kicked off the planet, but maybe… it wasn’t all irreparable. In fact, suddenly, there seemed to be a myriad of things he realized he could do. And maybe even succeed in some.

But above all… Boxman didn’t want him dead. And what a thought that was!

Chapter Text

Boxman couldn’t fall asleep. He turned around, trying and failing yet again to find comfort somewhere in his bed and to turn off his mind. In the breathless quiet of the long winter night, pressed below a blanket of heavy snow in his warm cocoon of a cabin, he could swear some sixth sense of his heard Venomous sleeping in the other room. He turned around again.

The man was back, just like a part of him had always known he would be. He was back, bearing an apology, a cake and a soft, fragile, barely-there question: “Do you think that one day we might be able to...” Just thinking of it made the feathers on his arm fluff up with a shudder and he buried his face in his pillow even deeper. 

Somehow, he had always known that question was coming, too. He’d spent the time since that whole fiasco doing some serious self-reflection and figuring out what was that fabled “healthy” relationship stuff that everyone was talking about. He hadn’t put it into practice, yet, because he didn’t feel capable of it, but he now understood a lot of things a lot better. One of those things was that the only sane answer to that question was “no.” And yet…

Boxman shook his head, growled quietly and threw the blankets aside. Three in the morning was not the time to go at this problem yet again. He’d tried to confront it time and again, at much more reasonable times of day and frames of mind, but despite all the time he’d had, he had never been able to decide what its answer would be. And now the man and the question were here, and the answer was not, and he knew the thing to do was go back to bed.

Tomorrow was a new day. They could talk. Venomous had said he wanted to talk, if Boxman did, too.

So then why were his fluffy slippers taking him to the living-room, where Venomous was asleep on the couch? What did he think he was going to see there that he hadn’t seen before?

Have I really seen it all before, though, he wondered as he took a peek at the peaceful scene of the fire’s embers throwing a warm, low light on his… on Venomous, snugly curled under a mountain of blankets.

What did I actually see?

Boxman sank down on the footstool that Mikayla liked and took a long look at the sleeping man.

That was the question, really.

If he had to be honest with himself, he had pretty low self-preservation instincts. He routinely put himself in harm’s way, both physically and emotionally. What Venomous had done had hurt him deeply, worse than anything he had ever experienced before or ever expected. But it wasn’t like he wouldn’t do it all over again, even if he knew. What had happened was bad, but had not pushed him beyond his breaking point. He was not afraid of being hurt again.

It also wasn’t as if he’d ever expected Venomous to be a model partner, father, step-father and business associate. He was a villain, for Cob’s sake! They both were. Nothing was ever perfect, and especially not with villains, and especially not with him. He’d done his fair share of unhealthy things to his own kids, to his family, to heroes and other villains who’d often gotten way worse than they deserved from him. To him, life was a work in progress and the best he could hope for was “pretty good, right now,” and not “perfect, one day.” So his hopes and dreams (yuck, how heroic) were intact, or at least well-superglued.

It also wasn’t that he held the man’s past against him. It was messed up, yes, even from a villain’s perspective. It had always been a possibility that what he had done once, he’d do again. (And he had.) Boxman had thought about it long and hard, not entirely managing not to compare himself and Carol. He had wondered if he had somehow made Venomous feel rejected or misunderstood because of his past. This evening, Venomous had reassured him that it wasn’t the case, and there had never been anything Boxman could have done. Boxman had already realized it, but still, it was good to hear.

This was getting him nowhere. He rubbed his face for want of something to do with his hands, because they itched to touch the sleeping man. He seemed so familiar. So close. So wanted. So much a part of him that for a wild second, he wondered how he’d ever been without him.

But was he? Familiar, close, wanted and a part of him? 

How much of what he knew about him was the “real” Venomous and how much was a kaleidoscope of Shadowy, trauma, ambition and things Boxman himself had made up?

He didn’t know. Objectively, he knew he had no way of knowing. Objectively, he doubted that the man himself knew the exact answer to that.

But in his heart of hearts, he needed to know if the man he loved was or had ever been real.

He couldn’t move on, or away, or anywhere really, unless he got an answer.

The vision of Venomous, at once familiar and a complete stranger, swam and blurred just like Boxman’s perception of him and he couldn’t help himself from reaching out and touching his cheek, just to make sure that at least the man he saw right now was real.

He needed to, and he couldn’t care less how much of a bad idea it was. 

He needed to kiss him.

So he did.

It was soft, fragile, barely-there, just like Venomous’s question: “Do you think that one day we might be able to...”

“It’s alright, Box,” Venomous murmured, with his eyes still closed. “I know it’s not as simple as whether you love me or not. I understand.”

“PV,” Boxman breathed.

“But for what it’s worth, I did love you. I still do.”

Ah. And there it was. 

Boxman smiled.

Here we go again, indeed.

Chapter Text

“Oh, Boxy, hi. Fancy meeting you here,” Venomous greeted him casually. “I thought you said you’d retired?”

“Heya, PV. Yeah, but I still come to consult from time to time. You know, keep my hand in and all that,” Boxman replied just as casually, as if Venomous had not just fallen down through the roof of Boxmore, through the mesh of the second-floor ramp and onto a wagon full of glorbs, leaving him sprawled on top of the pile with limbs sticking out in slightly unnatural positions. “And how are you doing?”

“Fine, fine, thanks for asking,” Venomous replied lightly. “Nothing much is new.”

“Can I... help you with anything?”

“No, no, thanks. I’m alright. I’ll just… stay here for a bit.”

“Run into Carol lately?” Boxman asked conversationally, twirling his wrench.

“Hm? Why would you think that?” Venomous raised an eyebrow, and notably didn’t move anything else whatsoever.

“Weeeell,” Boxman observed the hole in the ceiling and scratched his chin with the wrench, “Ernesto had sent Mikayla and Jethro to attack the plaza, for old times’ sake, to make their old dad happy…”

“Ah.”

“But apparently, you and Carol were already at it so… exuberantly that you put them to shame. They decided they’d never top that performance and withdrew after she…” Boxman trailed off and waved the wrench expansively at Venomous’s position, “...you know.”

“I see,” Venomous said meekly.

There was a supremely awkward silence.

“Look, PV, I’ll just go get that first aid kit, shall I? Cos I don’t think that even snake skeletons are supposed to bend this way.”

“That… would be very kind of you, thanks.” 

Once the bleeding had stopped and both Venomous’s ankle and shoulder had been sufficiently bandaged, Boxman hopped uncertainly from foot to foot for a bit before eventually asking him if he wanted to to get something from Beardo, just down the road, since the kids didn’t keep anything humanly edible at the factory anymore. Venomous, looking anywhere but at Boxman, agreed immediately, and off they wobbled.

The silence, though, was stifling.

“Sooo...” Boxman finally broke under the strain when they were halfway through their rainbow mushroom burritos and started, “you’ve been… seeing people, eh? Carol and such.”

“I left a lot of...” Venomous halted his diligent chewing for a moment, “unresolved… things when I got sent to my planet.”

“Been very busy, then?” Boxman tried again, after a while.

“Well, it’s like I told you, getting a new house, choosing a school for Fink, wiring all my finances from that other world...”

“Mm-hm. So you haven’t been avoiding me at all,” Boxman went for broke and gave him the same level look he gave Ernesto whenever his son tried to convince him that the new robot models definitely did not at all have a DJ-ing mode or a built-in subscription to Blotchify or NoiseCloud, and neither could they perform ballet, no daddy really, whatever gave you that idea, Jethro will you get out of here with your tutu!

Venomous almost choked on his burrito and eventually managed to swallow it whole, thanking Cob for his snake genes.

“Look, PV,” Boxman sighed and looked him firmly in the eyes. Or cheekbones. Definitely above the collarbones. “I get it, it’s a lot of baggage between us, and you’ve got… stuff going on. It’s alright if, after all, you don’t want to do this any-”

“NO!” Venomous shouted and shook his head vehemently, grabbing onto Boxman’s shoulders. “That’s not it at all! I swear! It’s just...” He bit his lip and looked anywhere but at the other. “It’s just that I...”

“Suddenly felt like seeing Carol and the business side of her boots more than me?” Boxman chirped helpfully.

“I… uhm...” Venomous paused and stared at that. Then he shook his head. “I swear I was going to ask you out on a proper date. None of these hard conversations we’ve been having since I returned. Only...” he gulped. “Only when I actually started planning a date, I realized that...”

“Yes?” Boxman encouraged him.

“I don’t actually… know what you like to do,” Venomous murmured. “We were together that long, we even lived together and I… I don’t know where to take you on a date. Just picking whatever expensive restaurant we’re not banned from seemed so… impersonal...” Venomous fell silent, trying not to look as miserable as he felt. He took a couple of deep breaths.

“Oh, PV...” Boxman sighed softly after a moment and took the hands from his shoulders into his own. “There’s nothing wrong with restaurants. Actually, I quite like the posh ones.”

“Really?” Venomous asked, startled into finally looking him in the eyes. “You like posh restaurants?”

“Who doesn’t? They’re fun,” Boxman grinned. “All those knives,” he grinned broader and a lot more evilly.

Venomous stared, going slightly lavender and warm.

“So don’t worry about it,” Boxman patted his hands reassuringly. “You go ahead and book your boring posh restaurant, and I’ll worry about the entertainment.” He gave an evil chuckle. “Or more like, the entertainment will worry about me.”

“Oh Boxy,” cooed a decidedly plum Venomous, “you’re so evil. <3”

“I know!” Boxman wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “And now how about we-”

But he never got to finish that, because both of their phones chose that exact moment to start ringing, and the joint ringtones of “Short King” and “Wake me up inside” were really, really not conducive to anything even remotely romantic.

“Oh, poop,” Boxman summarized in a couple of minutes. “Your ex came to Boxmore to finish what she started. The kids need me to go in and help with damage control,” he made a face while quickly typing some instructions in his phone.

“Fink blew up the chemistry lab of the new school I put her up in,” Venomous deadpanned, pinching the bridge of his nose and also typing a quick WTC to his minion. “Again.”

“Well gee, Ernesto, son, maybe if you’d spent a liiiittle more time combat training and a liiitle less prancing around in tutus, you wouldn’t have a mushroom cloud in the back yard! Despite the name, they don’t actually grow there,” Boxman grumbled.

“Oh, so it wasn’t the chemistry lab this time, it was the math classroom. Color me impressed,” Venomous rubbed his face, frowning at his phone. “If she manages to find something explosive in the poetry club too, I’ll have to sign her up for college chemistry classes. Or a Nobel prize.”

“Kids these days, I swear. PV, I gotta go take care of this, ok?” Boxman said absently, still busy on his phone. “Call me later about those knives, yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” Venomous replied just as absently, already looking for his car keys while berating Fink in writing. “I have to go take care of this too. Catch you later, Boxy.”

And just like he had done several times every day for a not so long, but very meaningful part of his life, he leaned down and gave Boxman a quick, sweet peck on the lips before slithering off to whatever emergency needed him this time.

Both he and Boxman realized what had happened only several hours later, when Boxmore was patched up, Fink was grounded, and life was suddenly a lot better and full of expectation than it had been for a long, long time...

Chapter Text

Professor Venomous, Planetary Tyrant, negative 13 villain, and a man recently taken back by the partner who dumped him for being a planet-sized jerk, slithered into the bedroom.

Boxman fidgeted on his sofa and stared wide-eyed at the fancy black getup, fancy dark glasses and fancy everything of his partner. Despite the apparent impossibility of the task, Venomous really could make himself even hotter than he already was, when he wanted to.

“Come on, Box. Let’s do it,” he said in that low, breathy voice he reserved for the media and for potential business associates that he wanted to rob blind.

“D-do we have to?” Boxman poked his fingers together.

“Well of course we don’t have to, but I would really like us to,” Venomous said and took off the glasses on his way to the sofa.

“Uhm...”

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun,” he said seductively, leaning down, one hand casually sliding on the armrest right next to Boxman.

Boxman looked up, and, realising his face was an inch away from Venomous’s, glistening lips, bedroom eyes, fresh smell and all, completely forgot what he was going to say.

“It’s just a few pictures, Boxy,” Venomous purred, one finger tracing Boxman’s jawline. “There’s no need to be shy.”

“I-I’m not shy,” Boxman said, shyly.

“Mmm. Is that so,” Venomous smirked. “Do you want me to work harder to convince you then?”

“I-ay-ay...” Boxman lost his thread yet again when a long, slender leg slid between him and the armrest. Only a moment later, he was straddled by the impossibly delicious villain in black.

“Come on, Box,” Venomous’s breath caressed the skin on his temple as he nuzzled in his hair and then left a butterfly of a kiss on his cheekbone. “Come with me in the other room and let’s do something scandalous.”

“Hn...”

“Don’t you want to show me off? I know I do.” The light, soft kisses traveled to Boxman’s nose, as one palm snuck to the nape of his neck and long fingers played on the sensitive spot just at his hairline.

“People will see and...”

“That’s the entire point of pictures like these,” Venomous murmured, eyes fixated on Boxman’s lips as the tips of their noses touched. 

Boxman could feel his breath on his lips. It was terribly distracting.

“Please?” Venomous tried, as his kisses moved down to the other’s jaw, and up his cheek and stopped just short of his faceplate. A careful finger tenderly traced the line where flesh disappeared below metal. “We don’t have to do anything… staged. You can do whatever you want. Just be yourself. It’s how I like you best anyway.”

“But then they’ll print the pictures. In an actual magazine,” Boxman objected weakly.

“Well, to be fair, that part wasn’t up to me,” Venomous sighed in the crook of Boxman’s neck, sending shivers down his arm and making the feathers fluff up. “If I could forever get the media off my back, I would. But since I can’t, the next best thing is to really give them something to gawk at.”

“Is that why you want to do this photoshoot?” Boxman asked, talons involuntarily digging into the too expensive black fabric of the suit.

“As a hero, I had to be on my absolute best for these cobsdanged things,” Venomous’s low growl had no business sounding so hot, Boxman couldn’t help noting. “Now I just want to do whatever. Go crazy. And I know nobody can make a show like you can, Boxy.” Venomous pressed their foreheads together. 

“My Boxy,” he breathed and pressed his lips to Boxman’s, the fingers on his nape holding on just a bit more tightly.

The kiss flowed into many smaller ones, on Boxman’s lower lip, and on the upper, then the corner of his mouth and his cheek and the rim of his metal plate.

“I can do that,” Boxman said, trying to gather his thoughts. Ever since they got back together, Venomous had been… like this. And yet, it never stopped being distracting. “I just… don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Well why not? A magazine photoshoot is far from the craziest thing we’ve ever done, together or separately,” Venomous huffed a laugh and then smirked suggestively. “Unless you’re planning to go ahead and do it right in front of the reporters, I don’t see the problem.”

“No… What I mean is...” Boxman gulped and forced himself to go on, seeing that Venomous seemed to be on a completely different wavelength. “Do you think it’s wise to… advertise our relationship? You haven’t been back all that long.”

Venomous’s reaction could not have been more abrupt if he’d hit him. He froze for a moment, not even his chest moving, and then slid off to sit primly some distance away from Boxman. He was instantly somber and expressionless and, Boxman knew by now, deeply anxious.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was what...” he started and stopped, not looking at Boxman.

Boxman put a comforting hand on his.

“Well, that’s something you should decide, really,” Venomous went on, after a moment, his voice all smooth and controlled. “I would like to do it. To ‘advertise it,’ as you put it. I don’t have any doubts or qualms about it. For what it’s worth, I’m here to stay this time.” The muscles in his jaw clenched. “But I completely understand why you might not feel the same. Now that you… brought it up. So you decide.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Ok! Then let’s do it!” Boxman said cheerfully and hopped on his feet.

Venomous gave him a cautious, questioning glance.

“Well, I, for one, don’t really care about what people will think or who will know. You’re the public person, not me,” Boxman explained. “I just wanted to know what this whole shtick means to you. Why you wanna do it.”

“So you… don’t mind people knowing that we’re back together?”

“Not at all,” Boxman said, cupped his cheeks and gave him an encouraging smooch on the forehead.

“Let’s go give those reporters a few heart attacks then,” Venomous grinned and the two of them cackled evilly.

Chapter Text

Some things had changed about Boxman, Venomous noticed as soon as he started spending more time with him. He was, well, not exactly bossy, but more assertive when it came to their relationship. He spent a lot of time out and about. He carried around psychology and self-help books the way Shannon carried circular saws. Venomous eyed the books the way most people eyed his own bioengineered Venus Mantraps, but apart from that, he quite liked the new Boxman. He had the same soothing effect on him as before, and made him just as happy.

A little more soothing and happy than seemed natural, in fact.

Venomous hadn’t started to really have his suspicions on the subject until the first time he felt what he now knew to be an anxiety attack coming while he was with Boxman. They didn’t live together, so he managed in private the less… fun and sexy parts of his Shadowy-less existence. He knew he should have discussed it with Boxman sooner, he scolded himself as he struggled to stay calm.

“You alright there, PV?” Boxman paused in the middle of reenacting on his couch his last petty squabble with Beardo over the correct way to prepare bolt-and-nut tempura.

Venomous smiled weakly and tried to breathe.

And then Boxman brandished a popsicle that had practically materialized out of thin air and stuck it into his mouth. The cold shock and the overpowering smell of chemical banana made his eyes water.

“And hoooo boy, did I tell you about how your scion is doing in school?” Boxman grinned and shoved a sheet of paper in his face. “Just get a load of his biology grades!”

The big, fat D--- sailed into Venomous’s focus and made him sputter with indignation around the banana popsicle that he almost swallowed in shock, stick and all.

“And they’re doing organic chemistry this year, too!” Boxman cooed evilly. “Shall I give you Mrs. Quantum’s number?”

The rest of the afternoon was spent harassing Mrs. Quantum over the kinds of tests she gave, arranging tutoring sessions with a mildly shocked KO, and screaming to anyone who’d listen how no son of his was going to fail his chemistry or biology, of all things! World annihilation was one thing, but chemistry and biology were sacred, cob dang it!

It was only a lot later, in the evening when he picked up Fink from her after-school club activities and she asked him how he was doing, that he realized just how well he was actually doing. He also realized that he didn’t remember Boxman ever being either fond of banana popsicles, or interested in KO’s school grades before.

Once the suspicion was lodged in his mind, he couldn’t sit still without testing it. He was a scientist, after all.

The opportunity presented itself only two days later, when Boxman asked him to pick him up for an afternoon date from Boxmore, where he still visited regularly. Venomous parked his shiny brand-new convertible right next to the highway, got out and leaned on it while he waited for Boxman. He stared absently at the plaza where his last confrontation with his son had happened.

“Heya, PV! Here I am!” Boxman chirped and hugged his waist. “Whacha looking at?”

“Hey,” Venomous kissed the top of his head because it was all he could reach. “Just the plaza.”

“What’s wrong with the plaza? Looks the same as ever.” Boxman squinted at it.

“Yeah. As if nothing ever happened there.”

Boxman squinted at him this time.

“I barely remember what actually happened, and yet, it still reminds me of what I-”

“Do you know what it’s going to remind you of this time next week?” Boxman grinned like the maniac he was, dipped Venomous like a tango dancer and waggled his eyebrows.

“Er. What?”

“This time next week, it’s going to remind you of that time we got arrested for public indecency,” he purred so evilly that Venomous whimpered.

“But we’ve never been arr...” His mind caught up with Boxman’s idea, his whole body immediately flushing in interest.

Boxman grabbed him by the waist and dragged him towards Mr. Gar’s loading area with an unholy gleam in his eye.

They did not, in fact, get arrested for public indecency, but that was only because they were both in pretty good running shape, not to mention, Venomous owned a sports car and never went anywhere without a few handy test-tubes full of a little something for the heroes. The next time he went to pick up Boxman from the factory, though, the first thing he remembered was indeed the pandemonium that his very own purple butt had caused among the plaza-goers, and he giggled.

As fun as that had been, though, it also confirmed his suspicions. So then, when he looked back on his interactions with Boxman after his return, he saw a lot of things that in retrospect seemed obvious.

There were the regular outings to Darrell’s new farm. There was Boxman’s newfound interest in hiking (which consisted of him grumbling all the time) and swimming (which he was great at). There was Boxman’s idea for Venomous to join Fink’s (and coincidentally KO’s) PTA. There was the get-together with Cosma and Vormulax that Boxman mysteriously had excused himself from in the last moment. There was the endless supply of scientific conference notifications that Boxman passed on to him, all of them mysteriously including a bioengineering panel. 

Obvious in hindsight, really.

“You don’t have to do this, Box,” Venomous finally gathered his courage and said one evening when Boxman innocuously slipped him a meditation center pamphlet. 

“Huh? What do you mean?” Boxman blinked innocently and tried to scutter for the door.

“I...” Venomous took a deep breath. He had rehearsed this, but in his head, it had not included catching Boxman and crowding him down into the sofa. “I am aware that I have a… problem. But you don’t have to try to manage it for me.”

Boxman fluffed up like an affronted kakapo, looked around for a means of escape, and when none presented itself, looked up at him with the sweaty calm of someone who also had rehearsed this.

“I-I’m not trying to manage anything for you,” he recited. “It’s just that last time, when you managed things yourself, they, erm... Well, they didn’t so much, er, work as...” Boxman trailed off.

“...as not work?” Venomous suggested conversationally.

“Fail spectacularly and miserably, yes,” Boxman agreed quickly and nodded all too eagerly.

“And none of it was your fault,” Venomous said carefully. “You know that, right?”

“Yeees, yes, you said so,” Boxman replied, also carefully. “I know. I couldn’t have done anything to help. Only...” he gulped. “You didn’t let me do much. To try to help, I mean. And I… feel better when I’m being helpful. Even if the result is the same.”

Boxman was looking up at him with such an adorable, vulnerable expression that it broke Venomous’s heart a little. He had been very, very apprehensive of what Boxman would have to say once he brought up his issues for discussion. He had been terrified, in fact. But this was Boxman, for Cob’s sake, his Boxy, who was too good for this world and especially for him in particular, and a soft, round, adorable treasure, and of course he would want to help, would be delighted to support him in any way. Why had he ever thought otherwise? Boxman loved him. 

Cob, Boxman really did love him.

“T-that is not to say that I think you can’t take care of yourself!” Boxman waved his hands, looking slightly panicky at the silence.

“I can’t, actually,” Venomous managed, gathering his courage and taking Boxman’s hands in his. “You’ve been talking to Fink, right?”

Boxman became shifty-eyed.

“There’s nobody else who could have ratted me out, as it were.”

“Well, she is a rat,” Boxman mumbled.

“So you must know that I’ve been getting help… professional help, that is, since I returned.”

Boxman nodded, looking at him hopefully.

“And while I probably could handle it all on my own, it’s not easy to do it alone. I had Fink while I was on my planet, and that was great, but I don’t want to have to rely on her ever again. All I ever wanted for her was to have a normal evil childhood, not to be my emotional stress-ball. So...” he took another deep breath. “You don’t have to manage my issues for me. But if you’d like to help me, that would be… amazing.”

“Oh, PV!” Boxman said with stars in his eyes that made Venomous’s black heart swell. “Of course I want to help! All I wanted was for you to be happy!”

Boxman jumped into a hug with such gusto that Venomous toppled back onto the sofa. He hugged Boxman back and tried not to cry too much. 

He should have done this years ago, he thought.

“Aw, PV, come on, none of that,” Boxman said and sat up, astride his belly. 

“What?”

Boxman reached down and wiped his temples and the corners of his eyes. “Just talk to me, alright? You don’t need to try to hide things. It’ll be fine.”

Venomous took Boxman’s hands and sat up, nudging him into his lap.

“Alright,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “I promise.”

“Good!” Boxman grinned and pressed their foreheads together.

From there, it was just a gentle tilt of Venomous’s head to press their lips together in a soft, trembling kiss that Boxman deepened after a moment. “I promise,” Venomous said again between breaths and felt Boxman’s answering smile on his lips and in his heart. He really didn’t deserve Boxman, he thought, but he’d be danged if he ever let him go again, he promised himself.

Chapter Text

“So you’re going away.” Boxman’s eye would have twitched if its socket weren’t made of metal. “With Billiam Milliam.”

“It’s only for a week, Box,” Venomous said, tossing a swimsuit on his bed. A very small one, Boxman noted. “I have so much business affairs to put back in order on this planet, and Billiam has connections everywhere. It’s the most efficient way.”

“The same Billy-Willy who greets you every. single. time. with ‘darling’ and ‘business or pleasure?’”

“Hm? It’s just his turn of phrase.”

“And who tripped over himself asking you to move in with him once you came back?”

“He just offered me the guest wing of his villa. Staying at hotels can be such a chore.”

“And who sent you 1001 golden roses each with a pink heart attached just last week?”

“Yes, that was just a bit over the top, wasn’t it?” Venomous paused for a moment in deep thought. “Although I suppose he does expect to profit a lot from our partnership in the coming years.”

“Your partnership,” Boxman deadpanned and folded Veomous’s metal suitcase into an accordion. “Great. That’s… so great. Good for you.”

Venomous just nodded noncommittally, checking his packing list. “Huh? Box, have you seen my suitcase?”

“No, PV,” Boxman chucked the accordion out the nearest window. “Why bother packing so much anyway? I’m sure Billy will be delighted to provide you whatever you need.”

“Well yes, but I prefer...” Venomous trailed off. “Hm? Is something bothering you? You look a bit… red.”

“Nope, I’m peachy!” Boxman chirped maniacally.

“Would you rather I didn’t go?”

“Noooooo, no, no, no,” Boxman waved it off with a shark-toothed smile. “You should absolutely go. I’m sure I’ll find some way to entertain myself.”

“If you say so,” Venomous smooched his forehead and went in search of Fink’s suitcase to borrow.

It was only the afternoon of his first day away on business, and Venomous was already dying of boredom. So when his phone buzzed, he took it out despite the very serious (TM) meeting he was in.

My Boxy <3: Hey, PV! How’s all that business going? I went to visit the kids at Boxmore today.

Me: That’s great, honey. Say hi from me.

My Boxy <3: Check out these guns!

Nothing could have prepared him for the series of red-tinted photos of a shirtless Boxman holding up a pair of extra large laser guns, every single muscle on his torso and arms popping out, glistening with sweat from the nearby forges.

Venomous yelped, quickly covering his dropping jaw, and scuttled to fish his mind out of the gutters where Boxman had just kicked it with a vengeance. Everyone on the conference table gave him weird looks.

Me: Breathtaking. And the guns are alright too, I guess.

My Boxy <3: Right!? GTG Have fun with Billy-Nilly!

Venomous hurried to reassure himself that Boxman hadn’t meant to do to him what he did to him, but even so, his concentration was irrevocably lost for the rest of that day.

It was another day and another evil board meeting, and Venomous had not at all been compulsively checking his phone when it buzzed.

My Boxy <3: Hey! Busy?

Me: Sort of. Why?

My Boxy <3: Great! Shannon and Raymond are telling me I’m not fashionable enough.

Me: Would I dare to argue with them

My Boxy <3: [Bleeeh emoji]

My Boxy <3: So here I am, shopping. Which one should I buy?

Venomous was more or less mentally prepared for the series of fitting room photos of a Boxman in a tank top modeling a series of very nice, very form-fitting jeans and slacks.

Mind out of the gutter, old villain, he doesn’t mean it. Not like that, at least, Venomous scolded himself and texted back surreptitiously, maintaining his most expressionless expression.

Me: Why one? Buy them all.

My Boxy <3: Really?

Me: Why not?

My Boxy <3: No individual remarks? No preferences? Nothing?

Me: I’m kind of in the middle of something.

There was silence for a bit, which was probably for the best, seeing that he was in the middle of a meeting. Long, boring meeting. That he found it really hard to concentrate on. Which he should, instead of obsessively wondering if he hadn’t been too curt and if he should text again, or offer to buy Boxman the pants, or…

No. Mind on the work. Billiam was saying something I should have probably listened to.

And then his phone buzzed again.

My Boxy <3: Ooooh, PV! There’s a fancy underwear sale here! Just get a load of this!!

Venomous leapt from his seat and ran out of the meeting room.

The next day, when his phone buzzed in the middle of yet another meeting (Dang it, did Boxman have some sort of radar for when he had the stiffest, most boring meetings!?), Venomous broke in cold sweat.

He’d been stewing from the previous day in the horrible realization that 1) Boxman did, in fact, know exactly what he was doing to him, 2) he had no idea what had gotten into his otherwise very straightforward Boxy and 3) he had no idea how he was supposed to react.

The phone buzzed again. Billiam glared at him. He sweated some more.

My Boxy <3: Hey! Darrell says hi! He’s come to the city to visit!

The second buzz had been a mercifully perfectly prim selfie of Boxman and his farmer son sitting with hot tea in a nice cafe.

Me: Oh, that’s great! Tell him I said hi, too!

My Boxy <3: He’s brought some goodies from the farm too!

The picture that followed was of Boxman, holding in his lap a huge daikon radish proudly pointed up. Venomous almost spewed his fancy business coffee in laughter.

As far as his recent photo-ops went, this one was adorably straightforward, he thought happily.

That was why, when his phone buzzed later the same day, when he had been packed off to a beachside evil soiree, he answered quite innocently.

My Boxy <3: Shoot, PV, we ran into some trouble.

Me: Is everything alright?

My Boxy <3: Just some sudden cold rain. :((( We’re not far from your place. Is it alright to stop by to dry ourselves? All this water is bad for Darrell’s carapace. :(((

Me: Oh no! Of course you should dry him off. Fink must be home, I’ll text her to let her know.

My Boxy <3: Thanks, PV! Catch you later!

When “later” came, Venomous received a single picture of Boxman in Venomous’s very own steamy shower with the succinct caption “Ah, bliss~” below and nearly had a heart attack.

An exceptionally sleepless night was had.

Venomous didn’t hear a single word anyone told him the entire following day. When he entered, and then exited first one, and then another boring meeting, he even decided to capitulate and call, but only got to Boxman’s voicemail. He was going around the bend.

No, Venomous, don’t think about bending. Over tables. In showers. Bad thoughts. Bad.

At some point, even Billiam seemed to give up and gently, but firmly suggested that maybe he should skip the networking event and retire early for the day. Venomous miserably took the offer and exited with what little dignity he had left.

Finally, sometime late in the evening, he received a single picture without a caption. It was of his own well-made, pristine, regretfully unrumpled bed with a single delicate, shiny white feather in the middle of it. Venomous had never in his life imagined that he could get that hot and bothered over a feather.

And then his traitorous brain helpfully supplied that the feather was not necessarily from Boxman’s arm, at which point he had to go and get a really cold shower, and snake biology be danged.

Venomous woke up the next day to the buzzing of his phone that he’d fallen asleep clutching the previous night, obsessing over a cobsdanged feather, of all things.

My Boxy <3: Morning, PV! Slept well? Did something fun? :)

My Boxy <3: Guess who else is in town visiting!

Venomous, sleep-muddled and only half-awake, immediately started to type something to the effect that they needed to talk, but before he could finish, a picture came in.

“HWUOATTT!” Venomous shouted, instantly wide awake, tail up and rattling.

In the picture, Boxman was hauling on one shoulder a grinning Dr. Blight away from an explosion in the background.

My Boxy <3: I hope you and Billy-Willy are having as much fun as we are! ;)

My Boxy <3: Oh, and don’t worry if I’m not picking up the phone, we got plans for today! <3

Venomous shot out into the corridor, where he promptly ran into a happy Billiam who had been heading to Venomous’s bedroom with a breakfast tray complete with a vase of roses.

“Reschedule my meetings. I’m going home,” Venomous hissed at him.

“Professor! You’re up already!” Billiam exclaimed. “Oh, and you- you have a tail? How very… interesting.”

“I said, reschedule my meetings,” Venomous grabbed him by the hotel robe lapels and growled.

The blushy Billiam giggled and nodded, eyes flicking between Venomous’s unshaven face and rattling tail.

A not-nearly-short-enough flight later, Venomous kicked down the door where the hotel staff had told him he could find one Dr. Blight, fully prepared to fight fang and nail for his Boxy’s chastity.

That had turned out to be quite unnecessary, of course, but it had definitely considerably livened up the third quarter of the “124th Annual Ecology And Industrial Pollution Conference” where Dr. Blight had been presenting her newest research.

And Boxman had looked positively smug and all too willing to come with him as he’d dragged him out of the audience and then snogged him into the nearest wall.

“I give up, alright!” Venomous said once he was satisfied that his Boxy was safe in his clutches and nobody else’s. “You win! Happy now?”

“Oh? Were we playing at something?” Boxman cooed happily, rubbing a cheek against Venomous’s chest.

“And I’m not that dense either, I know that Billiam is after my butt,” Venomous went on, “He’s always been after it! That first party when you attacked POINT for me? He was seething that my plus one wasn’t Fink, for once. I know! And it doesn’t matter! I just didn’t want you to worry about him.”

“I don’t know whatever could have given you the idea that I was worried about him,” Boxman said with the innocence of a baby bot fresh off the production line.

“Yeah, right,” Venomous growled quietly. “Now can we please go home and put that cobbed feather to good use?”

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about,” Boxman replied and looked for all the world as adorable as a baby chick. “But it sounds like a great plan, professor, like all of your plans! Lead the way!”

Boxman was outright beaming up at him with joy and innocence.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Venomous suspected that his Boxy knew very well that he had him wrapped around his adorable pinkie talon and took advantage of it, too.

That, of course, didn’t stop him from taking him home and thoroughly researching the exact origin of the feather on his bed.

Chapter Text

It was the end of date day with Boxman, and life was so very good for one Professor Venomous - there had been a ride through the Danger Zone, a lot of petty villainy, two separate explosions, and a T-Rex feather sticking out of Boxman’s hair as if he was a cockatoo. The world’s cutest cockatoo, in Venomous’s opinion. 

But now it was after dark, and they were giggling and trudging home from their crash landing after the last spectacular explosion, courtesy of Rad’s whole clan whose family reunion picnic they had wrecked not long before. The sight of his home, with all of its windows darkened, made Venomous sober up from his adrenaline high.

“...and they were all blorping, PV! Actually doing it! Did you hear them blorp!?” Boxman waved his hands expressively and cackled.

“Yeah… it was great.”

“PV? Everything Ok?” He looked more carefully at the house in front of them. “Why is it dark? Isn’t Fink home?”

“She’s staying in Neo Riot City for a couple of days, for her videos game tournament.” Venomous answered distantly. “Would you like to stay over?”

“Well, the books say that...”

And there it was, Venomous thought. He wished he could go back to the times when his only problems with Boxman’s literary tastes were the wildly inaccurate and intrusive fictional depictions of his past life as a superhero. While now…

“Don’t you think that maybe the books refer to people who don’t know each other as well as we do?”

“They’ve been right so far!” Boxman shook a wise finger at him.

...now Boxman had a bookmarked page in a psychology, self-help or relationship advice book for every single tiny decision they had to make to navigate their relationship, V 2.0. Venomous hadn’t seen as many books about robotics and engineering back in the day at Boxmore as he saw now on psychology. Boxman seemed to be a few boring exams away from becoming a certified evil therapist. Venomous bit his lip and hesitated at the threshold of his dark home.

“And I don’t argue with that. I’m going along with all the advice you get from them because I agree. Taking it slow is good. Getting to know each other again has been great. Dates are awesome. I just...”

Boxman was looking at him as if he was the center of the universe. Venomous struggled with the rapt attention for a few moments and then gave up and slid to plan B. He grabbed Boxman, crowded him into the doorway and kissed him into the nearest wall.

This whole “living apart and taking it slow” was going to drive him insane very soon. These days, the ends of their dates were an incessant game of “lure the Boxy in and find some way to keep him there.”

“Please stay?”

“Well I’ve been staying over almost every night and I think...”

“No, sometimes I stay over at your place instead. Would you rather go to your place?”

There was a silence during which Venomous nuzzled at the green tuft of hair with the T-Rex feather in it and continued to snuggle Boxman against the wall of his foyer. Boxman sighed and didn’t say anything, and Venomous was pretty sure he knew how the conversation was going to end.

“PV, do you-”

“No, please, I...” he stuck his finger on Boxman’s lips before he could think better of it. “I mean it, this whole dating thing is great, and I love every moment of it. And I completely get why it’s necessary to put some distance between us, for now.”

“But PV, I-”

“Yes, I know, you got hurt last time you got too close to me. I haven’t forgotten. It’s just that...”

Boxman was hugging his waist and looking up at him with that adorable snaggle-toothed expression that made Venomous want to dissolve into a pink heart-shaped puddle.

“It’s just that...” he tried again, the darkness and the comforting warmth of his Boxy making him braver. “Every time I have to let you go away, it feels like a missed opportunity.”

“To do what?”

“To… well, to not let you go. I liked it when we lived together. We weren’t joined at the hip or anything, but… I liked the idea that you were always nearby. That I could just walk up to you anytime and...” and he demonstrated by leaning down and kissing Boxman again.

“Well, that’s great to know!” Boxman said cheerfully when they broke the kiss, bounced out of his grip and turned on all the lights in the house, almost knocking Venomous out by the sheer force of the light and the dissonance.

Venomous hissed at the light.

“Cos I’ve been thinking, PV, and I think that you’re doing it again,” Boxman explained as he chucked off his shoes and singed sweater and walked in, turning on the heating and the background music, too.

“Doing what?”

“Your house looked like a museum the first time I blew it up!”

“The first time?” Venomous asked in alarm. 

“Yes! It was all so clean and posh and ordered, and Stink was the only sign of life in it! So I had to liven it up!”

“You,” Venomous tried hard to stifle a laugh, “you drew formulas on the wall, hung your freshly laundered boxers on the piano and then cooked blunch in my pristine lab.”

“And you loved it,” Boxman turned around and gave him the finger guns.

“I did,” Venomous admitted and walked in after him, smiling.

“I think you’re just horrible at living by yourself, to be honest.”

“I’m not very good for myself in general, yes,” Venomous said and his smile faded into a frown.

A taloned finger stopped it from forming completely.

“So I was going to suggest, if you had let me speak,” Boxman gave his most obnoxious grin, “that maybe we should move in together already. Do you wanna?”

“What.”Venomous perked up immediately. “Really?”

Boxman nodded enthusiastically.

“But what about the books?”

“We’ll take them, too.”

Venomous rolled his eyes.

“The books say that once all the necessary precautions have been taken, one shouldn’t be afraid to do what feels right.”

“Do you have an exact quote on that, page and all? Because I’m hanging it on the wall!” Venomous shouted and lifted up his Boxy in one of his own trademarked spinning hugs.

Boxman giggled, cupping Venomus’s stubbly cheeks, and leaned down for a kiss.

“We’ll wreck the lives of so many realtors starting tomorrow, PV!”

“So many, Boxy!!”

Chapter Text

When Professor Venomous had agreed to leave all wedding preparations (“And I mean ALL of them, PV!”) to Boxman’s side of the family because of “cultural reasons,” he had been under no illusion that it was going to be anything in the vicinity of normal. After all, whatever family had raised his Boxy, with his… erm, idiosyncratic… uhm, character traits, it had to be… unique. 

Besides, the two of them had already quietly signed, only last weekend, with just the kids present. They had exchanged simple vows and kissed their “yes” to each other, certain that this time, it was forever. It had been lovely, so why not let Boxman’s family have some fun, too?

Actually, everything had been quite uneventful, up until today. His only interaction with the fabled family had been one… globular avian stately matron introduced to him as Lady Veronique. He’d turned on his charm to 101% upon meeting her, in answer to which she’d fluffed up, looked at him as if he was something squirmy and eight-legged marring the lace of her skirts, and through gritted teeth spoke down to him (impressive, being half as short as him) the only two words they’d ever exchanged: 

“Gold-digger.”

She then stuffed the visiting card of a tailor in his hand and left, while he tried to process how he, who was very well-off, and even owned a whole planet, could possibly dig anything out of Boxman's earthly possessions, let alone gold. 

Boxman, though, had acted overjoyed, as if that meeting had gone swimmingly, and he, PV, and Lady Veronique had been friends on at least three social medias by the end of it and had kissed on the cheeks. Venomous, who had been prepared for weirdness from the get-go, though, swept that under the carpet, hugged his lovely weird husband, and obediently went to see that tailor.

Just to be on the safe side, though, henceforth he removed himself from the room every time Boxman started whisper-shouting on the phone or someone came to see him. He knew that Boxman family drama was coming his way no matter what he did, so he might as well play dead until it found him.

Now, however, he was faced with a stony-faced Fink in a uniform of some sort, complete with what looked like decorations and medals, but on closer inspection turned out to be her enamel pins and a few medals from gaming competitions. And, when he followed her, it also turned out that she was there to collect him with an honest-to-Cob carriage. He supposed that this sort of thing wasn’t unheard of at weddings, even though it was a very… authentic carriage.

Venomous studiously ignored the also uniformed guards that fell in line after them once he got in the carriage. He stubbornly attributed the empty streets to a traffic jam somewhere and the crowd of onlookers - to frustrated people who now had to walk. He absolutely dissociated when Fink, still basalt-faced, started waving tamely.

He had absolutely no working theory on why the carriage came to a stop in front of the monumental, towering, sprawling Temple Of Cob, whose lofty arches and brilliant stained-glass windows were decked out in green. Venomous knew that the temple was pretty much functional, but he had never heard of any private ceremonies being conducted there.

Fink got out, went to his side, and stiffly helped him out of the carriage. A group of reporters in fancy dress (with Dynamite Watkins at the forefront) went crazy when he stepped onto the plush green carpet. Not to mention the crowd safely cordoned off some distance away. He felt famous and lost.

“Fink? Are you sure we’re at the right wedding? This can’t be right.”

“I am going to murder you for doing this to me later,” Fink whispered, smiling angelically for the cameras.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I can see that,” she grumbled and very lovingly elbowed him towards the stairs. “In you go.”

He proceeded between two rows of people lining the stairs, who then opened the double doors for him. 

Music sounded. He looked around and almost choked when he recognized the National Neutral Zone Symphony Orchestra.

Also, he’d heard all the “chicken families are huge” jokes, but the number of people sitting in the temple was staggering. And they weren’t all avian. And they were extremely well-dressed. And he was sure he recognized some of them, for some reason? 

That one. He had seen her in some magazine, right?

And that one.

Oooh, and there was Lady Veronique in the front row, somehow managing to glare at him without even turning around.

And… and the guy with the ridiculous, blond, curly, cubic hair and the white suit and the tan couldn’t possibly be the Pres.... Venomous shook his head. No, nonono, absolutely not. He had to be the crazy uncle. Every family had one, right? Right?

By the time he realized that the uniformed figure at the front was Boxman waiting for him, Fink was already demurely peeling away from his side and moving to take a seat next to Lady Veronique. Right. Right, this was his wedding. Boxman was giving him a worried look. Time to focus and be in the moment. Right. Wedding.

“...to witness the joining in evil matrimony of Ian Venomous,” the priest droned on, “and Lord John Edmond St. Michel VIII Boxman, Twenty-Seventh Marquis of Beauxce-Mourrent...”

And thus, all sanity flew out the window.

“Who?” Venomous asked faintly.

“Oh. That’s me,” Boxman whispered and pointed to himself. “I simplified it to Boxmore when I opened the factory. Beauxce-Mourrent is such a hassle to spell...”

“MarQuiS!?!?”

“Well. Yes? What title did you think the ‘Lord’ stood for?” Boxman asked, giving him an utterly innocently uncomprehending look. 

“...”

“Ah, and you’ll become ‘The Honourable Professor Venomous’ at the end of this, by the way. It’s your courtesy title. You like it?”

The Honourable Professor Venomous, to the delight of the reporters, promptly passed out.

Chapter Text

“Out… of… wed… lock?” Venomous asked incredulously, willing his eye not to twitch in front of Lady Veronique and her small posse of lawyers.

“Well, obviously,” she explained magnanimously. “Marquis Beauxce-Mourrent was not wed at the time of the… creation of the… beings in question.”

Venomous did the necessary mental gymnastics to translate that to “Boxy was single when he made a bunch of toy robots.” Then he reminded himself that he was in the presence of lawyers, and they could sense fear and aggression, so he assumed his neutral business face.

“What if I adopt them then, now that we’re married? Ernesto would make a strapping marquis, I always thought - he wears a tophat like nobody’s business and he’s good at running the factory.”

“A capitalist - and a factory-owner to boot - working for profit is decidedly not the kind of image the Marquises of Beauxce-Mourrent wish to project,” a lawyer supplied smoothly.

“Ah. I see,” the capitalist Professor Venomous who had worked very hard for his profits replied meekly. Well. At least once, he had. “What about Darrell? Big farmer, salt of the earth, pillar of the community? Recently won a chicken fair with his hen Veronique?”

“You don’t seriously think that nobility is about growing” a bright red Lady Veronique clucked and sputtered “plants!? And- and- and- chickens with funny names! Over my dead body!”

“Mmm,” commented a very tempted Venomous, a known bonsai enthusiast and a big lover of chickens. Or at least one particular chicken. After shaking off the temptation to take her up on her idea, he tried again. “Shannon then? Bright, sociable, every TV station’s darling? Just the kind of image modern nobility needs, or so I hear.”

“Modern nobility certainly can do without the constant media circus and the crass appeal to the public’s baser instincts through ‘eye-candy,’” another lawyer intoned, somehow managing to pronounce the quotation marks around the last bit. “Not to mention she’s female, which would be highly irregular in terms of succession.”

“Ngk,” elaborated intelligently the former superhero media circus bait and current three-times winner of Temps magazine’s sexiest villain alive yearly award. “Jethro,” he managed eventually. “Big patron of the classical arts, doesn’t speak much, also one of the older quadruplets.”

“Hwuoat!” Lady Veronique fluffed up in affront. “That hippie! Never! His kind is proof of what comes out of single parenting!”

The long-time single parent Venomous made a choked sound while trying to bite his tongue.

“How about Raymond? He’s not the eldest, but he’s handsome, posh, sociable, and wears a tux like it’s painted on him. Even when it’s actually not.”

“A buff sports maniac and...” the lawyer checked his notes “ah, yes, here it is - ‘himbo’ is also very low on the desirability list of public image the next generation of Marquises of Beauxce-Mourrent the family wishes to have.”

A very gentle rattle, as if from a child’s rattler, only a bit more organic, sounded from somewhere in the vicinity of the dehimbofied yoga enthusiast Professor Venomous.

“He is not nice,” he hissed. “Don’t slander him. He’s a villain, and therefore cannot be a himbo.”

“So you see, there are just no suitable options,” Lady Veronique summarized as if he had not spoken. “It is such a tragedy that the title of marquis will have to leave this branch of the family due to my nephew’s unfortunate choice of marriage partner. There is just nobody to inherit the title. Tragic.”

The Honorable Professor Venomous serenely regarded the documents for his honorary title in front of him, scattered on Lady Veronique’s ornate antique desk, in her ornate antique country mansion. On the other side of the ornate, antique door was his Boxy was waiting for him to finish getting acquainted with his new role and duties.

“And remind me, why did Box… my mother-in-law run off and cede the title and all? To become a scientist, was it?” he asked eventually.

“Yes, and we do not speak of that family embarrassment.”

“Mm. She isn’t a bioengineer or a marine biologist by any chance, is she?”

“No, why would you think that?” Lady Veronique inquired politely.

“No reason,” Venomous shook his head and finally reached out to start collecting the documents. “Thank you, I understand my position relative to the rest of the family quite well now. It has been a most enlightening conversation, Lady Veronique. And I will definitely discuss the matters of succession with my husband.”

The newlywed Honorable Professor Venomous gave everyone his best magazine-cover smile, shook hands, tucked his documents under one arm and exited the ornate office with a spring in his step.

“Hey, Box,” Venomous greeted his husband who looked like he had not at all been pacing in circles the entire time waiting for him. “Do you remember how I said I was upset that you’d never introduced me to your family before?”

“What, an entire half an hour alone with Lady Veronique didn’t cure you of that?” Boxman looked with suspicious affront at his purposefully striding husband.

“Oh, no, I’m still very upset,” Venomous said, grabbing him by the lapels. “These people do not deserve this kind of consideration from you.”

Boxman had just enough to squeak another “Wut?” before he was hauled up onto a chintzy end-table, an even chintzier statuette of a crowned chicken ending up on the floor. Venomous practically crawled on top of him and kissed him into the tabletop as if his life depended on it. Boxman kicked his stubby legs helplessly on either side of his apparently addled husband and eventually gave in to the tidal wave of passionate kissing.

“Mphwah! What have they done to you!?” Boxman huffed when they finally had to come up for air.

“Oh, we were all perfectly civil, don’t worry. I’m going to accept that honorary title, and then we’re going to sit for that official painting, and then, then Boxy,” Venomous growled with a dark and ominous leer Boxman had not seen since the Shadowy Venomous Debacle, “we are going to make Mikayla a Marquess.”

“...”

“Marquess. Mikayla. Beauxce-Mourrent. Even if it kills me.”

“OhmiCob, I love you so much,” Boxman breathed out in evil admiration.

“Love you too, Your Lordship,” Venomous purred, his tail finally rattling with something other than murderous intent, and tackled him into a kiss again.

Chapter Text

“Professor,” KO mumbled, not looking up, “you’re a biologist and all, right?”

“Hm? Yes, of course. I swore I'd do anything necessary to fix your Biology grades, remember?”

“And you’re an adult, too.”

“Ah,” Venomous cocked an eyebrow, sensing where this was going. “Is there something about adult biology you’d like to know?”

“It’s just that,” KO blushed and looked anywhere other than at the Professor. “I’m already 11-16 years old, and… I have these… I mean… I’ve been… noticing… some of my classmates differently than before…”

“It’s the kappa girl, isn’t it,” Venomous smirked.

“Hey! She has a name! It’s Dendy!”

“But you’re not denying that it’s her.”

“That’s besides the point!”

“Well, but seriously now, hasn’t Carol talked to you about these things?” Venomous frowned. “You’re hardly a little kid. You could become a father tomorrow and not know how it happened.”

“I’m not that dumb, thankyouverymuch.” KO rolled his eyes. “It’s those… other things,” he went on miserably. 

“Which things, exactly?”

“Well… everything between noticing my classmates and becoming a dad, really.”

“Ah. I see. I take it, Eugene wasn’t very helpful either?”

“He’s been going on secret missions every time I bring it up. I’m starting to worry that he’ll drive himself to exhaustion with so much rigorous heroism if I keep asking him.”

Venomous snickered.

“And Rad says I just have to ‘flex my guns’ which I don’t have, and Enid says I have to ‘do cool stunts,’ but honestly, I’mmmm not so sure about that one, and the internet says I just have to talk about my feelings at length, but, like, if I knew how to talk about my feelings at length, I wouldn’t be looking for advice in the first place!” He shook his fists in frustration. “So that only leaves you.”

“Wow, I’m flattered,” Venomous deadpanned.

“Ideally, I want to talk to my mom, but she just says ‘adult stuff’ and that I’m too young,” KO concluded sadly.

“Aaah, heroes,” Venomous sighed profoundly and shook his head in pity towards the entirety of hero-dom. “You never learn that there’s more than one ways to skin a Catosaurus.”

KO stared at him with supreme suspicion.

“Don’t worry about it, your mom will talk to you about anything you want,” Venomous smirked and patted his shoulder. “Now let’s go get started on that biology homework of yours, alright?”

The visit was over and Venomous could hear Carol’s footsteps approaching. So he bowed to KO’s height, took him by the shoulder with his most fatherly gesture, looked at him soulfully, and enunciated loudly and clearly, “...and that, KO, is the only case in which you can completely forego any protection at all.”

“Huh?” KO stared, completely confused.

The footsteps, however, immediately turned into an angry Valkyrie ride in their direction and Venomous fought hard to suppress a grin.

The door exploded off its hinges.

“VENOMOUS YOU VILLAIN!” Carol roared. “What horrible nonsense are you filling KO’s head with again!?”

“What?” Venomous clutched at his chest in utter offended innocence. “The boy’s already 11-16 years old, of course he has questions! So many questions that you didn’t answer.” 

“I don’t want your opinions on protection anywhere near my boy,” Carol grabbed him by the shirt front and hissed quietly.

“Why not?” Venomous shrugged charmingly and grinned like a cobra. “If it weren’t for them, he wouldn’t exist at all, and it’s not like you’re doing a better job.”

Carol gasped and saw red.

Professor Venomous entered Boxman’s workshop. Through the wall. With Carol’s fist thoroughly imprinted around one cheekbone and her boot - on his stomach. Boxman squeaked once in shock, and then expertly ran for the first aid kit.

“Don’t you listen to a word that man said, KO,” Carol’s voice faintly sounded from outside. “Let’s go home and talk about eeeeverything that’s on your mind.”

“Really!? Ok, mommy! Thanks! You’re the best!”

“There you go, PV,” Boxman said with a sigh as he finished patching up his beloved. “Now that only leaves the last ingredient.”

“Huh? What’s that?” Venomous lisped with his slightly dislocated jaw (thank Cob for snake biology).

Boxman gave him a firm smooch on the bandage covering half of his face. “Kissing it better!” he explained happily.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch.”

Boxman looked at him in concern.

“Ok, it hurts, but do it again,” Venomous smiled as much as he could and proffered a cheek.

“I still think you could have dodged it,” Boxman said and smooched him again, this time more gently.

“Nah, I deserved this one.”

“Like KO deserved to have his questions answered by his mom?” Boxman suggested very casually.

“It’s what he said he wanted. Besides, I think that even if I had talked to him instead, Carol would have punched me all the same,” Venomous added and pulled Boxman in for a hug.

“Heh. Yeah, probably,” he laughed. “You do care about KO, don’t you? In your own way.”

“I don’t want him to repeat my mistakes, if possible,” he admitted quietly, after a moment. “Being a teenager is hard enough even when you’re not in the superhero spotlight 24/7. I didn’t have anyone who could teach me about relationships when I was his age and it wasn’t great. But he does. So let him learn. He can probably do better than me.”

“Hey,” Boxman gave him another, carefully-aimed kiss. “It’s alright. For what it’s worth, I think he will do better. Although…”

Venomous cocked an apprehensive eyebrow and coiled in on himself a bit.

“Personally, I think you turned out alright anyway,” Boxman finished and poked him, “...eventually...” he added in the privacy of his mind.

“Boxy…” Venomous smiled and touched their foreheads together. “Isn’t it weird? You fell out with your eldest because he was nothing like you. And I’m afraid that mine might turn out too much like me. It probably says something about us, doesn’t it.”

“Oh, don’t get all schmoopy!” Boxman protested in mock indignation. “Don’t make me sing the ‘Two of Hearts’ to you now!”

“Enough has been inflicted on me today, thanks,” Venomous chuckled and hugged his Boxy. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you, too, PV,” Boxman said and hugged him back very gingerly, avoiding the many injuries sustained in the name of familial bonding.

Chapter Text

Professor Venomous was not panicking, because supervillains like him didn’t do panicking. He was also not in denial, because there was nothing to deny. He refused to acknowledge that there was something to deny, and that was different from denial. Right? Right.

It had all started innocuously enough. There were any number of reasons why a bunch of adorable little fluffy baby chicks would be in someone’s browser history. The internet could throw anything at you these days.

And so what if they came up just a little more often that they had ever before, which had been never? He shouldn’t have used someone else’s laptop anyway. It was none of his business what his partner chose to search for.

And to be honest, the bunch of pictures of baby chicks napping in a basket had been very aesthetically pleasing. 

And the ones of baby chicks in little candy-wrapper tutus had been funny. 

And the video of a baby chick poking its head from between its mommy’s feathers had been adorable. 

Why wouldn’t a chicken cyborg in a stable relationship be looking at them?

Right. They were just a thing people could look at. For no particular reason.

And videos about how to raise them also didn’t have to mean anything.

Boxman and Fink got along famously these days.

Boxman already had eight kids (counting Mr. Logic and Junior).

He liked kids.

…

Oh Cob, Boxman wanted to have kids with him, didn’t he!?!

When Fink came to ask if he could borrow the credit card, and found her boss curled up in a chair crying and cooing at baby chick videos, she just quietly closed the door and decided to borrow it anyway. It was hardly the weirdest thing she had ever witnessed, but still, why interrupt?

Boxman eyed the suspiciously fancy dinner laid out on the good tablecloth with the shiny silverware and the candles and the roses and the fairy lights and the marble-faced Venomous decked out in his best casual shirt. His eye twitched.

“Look, PV/Box, we’ve known each other for some time now and-” the two of them said in unison and then stopped.

“Ehem. You first,” Boxman said.

“No, you,” Venomous waved him to go on.

“PV, you know I love you, right?” Boxman took a deep calming breath and waited for Venomous to nod. “But I gotta ask... what did you do?”

“I… may have… that is to say… by accident… and we’ve... ”

“Hn?”

“BOXMAN! LET’S MAKE A BABY!!” Venomous shouted and sprang on his feet.

“WHOUAT!?” Boxman squeaked and fell out of his chair.

The two of them stared at each other, until Venomous unfroze and scuttered to help Boxman up.

“Look, I know I haven’t been a model father to KO, and I know that Fink once almost died because of me, and Junior did, sort of, die, and I did end up wrecking a lot of your robot kids, and I’m not as young as I used to be, and Cob do you have any idea how exhausting looking after an organic mini- I mean, kid, is? And I’m not sure how exactly the biology of the whole thing will work out, unless you’re thinking of looking into adoption, which is totally fine with me, or if you want another cyborg, although to be honest after Junior, I’d rather go for fully organic, and also-”

Boxman stuck his finger on Venomous’s ranting mouth in a gesture he had learned from a certain someone.

“Deep breaths, PV,” Boxman said and also took deep breaths. He needed them. “This is great to know, but… where is it coming from? I didn’t know you wanted more kids.”

“I… I didn’t.” Venomous when after the finger allowed him. “But since you do, I thought about it, and… and I can do it. Plus, I’ve got you! You’re a good dad.”

“Why would you think I want more kids?” Boxman stared at him. “I have seven, for Cob’s sake!”

“I saw the videos!” Venomous hissed. “I’m sorry I peeked, alright! But you don’t have to pretend. Not for my sake.”

Boxman blinked, his robotic eye reading ‘Error 404: File Not Found’

“The videos of adorable baby chicks! In tutus! In baskets! Cuddling!”

Boxman huffed. Then he snickered. Then he laughed. Then he doubled over and howled with laughter.

“Is it that funny!?” Venomous shouted, panicking. “Do you think I’d be such a terrible father!?”

“Dooo...” Boxman wheezed “do you, Professor Venomous, PhD in biology, M.S. in biochemistry, M.S. in toxicology, think any biological babies of mine would be house chickens!?”

“I. I. I...” Venomous froze. Boxman, still snickering, put him back in his chair and petted his hand consolingly.

“I was looking up fancy breeds of chickens to give as a present to Darrell for his birthday. You know, my son Darrell, who is a farmer? Who has a farm?”

“Oh Cob,” Venomous deadpanned. “Oh Boxy, I’m so sorry, I...” he hid his face in his hands. “Of course they wouldn’t be chickens. I’m so sorry. I just… Oh...”

“There-there,” Boxman patted his back. “I appreciate the readiness to raise baby chicks with me, though.” He snickered. “An important milestone in any relationship.”

Venomous’s face was neon purple.

“Relax,” Boxman rubbed soothing circles on his back. “I haven’t been thinking about more kids.”

“Good,” Venomous breathed out and pulled Boxman into a big, thorough, relieved kiss.

Boxman hummed happily and climbed into his lap to deepen it.

“Just so you know, I really am alright with having more kids,” Venomous said when they emerged from the kiss, looking a lot more like himself. “Only… not immediately. And not so suddenly.”

“I agree,” Boxman nodded and gave him a smooch on the cheek. “Also, come to think of it, any biological kid of ours would be a Basilisk, technically. That’s a big responsibility.”

“Yes,” Venomous nodded.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, idly playing with each other’s hair and clothes and hands.

“Cob it, Boxy, let’s make a Basilisk!! Right now!!” Venomous shouted.

“Heck yeah! Let’s go!!” Boxman cheered and the two of them ran to the laboratory at top speed.

Boxy-Venom (who barely escaped being named Basil) turned out to be the cutest little scourge on hero-dom the world had ever seen.

Chapter Text

It was a lovely spring afternoon in Lakewood. The birds on Carol’s window ledge were chirping over colorful beds of happy tulips, the sun was shining, and Carol, KO and Fink were drinking glasses of sweet tea around the cosy kitchen table.

“Another cookie, Fink?” KO asked brightly and offered her the frilly jar.

Fink nodded her thanks as she reached into the jar, kicking her feet happily under the chair, careful not to kick the death-ray’s remote.

Carol finished reading the content of the envelope, put it on the table and surveyed the peaceful domestic scene while KO and Fink dipped their cookies in the tea.

Her eye twitched.

“Excuse me a minute, I need to get Gene. I can’t dea-” she coughed. “I think he needs to be here for this, too.”

KO and Fink nodded in agreement, both shining with bright, fresh smiles. Carol’s eye twitched again as she gingerly stepped over Fink’s small suitcase and the cables of the death-ray taking up half her living room.

“And don’t get ideas, you mama's boy,” Fink growled as soon as Carol was out of earshot. “I don't want to be here anymore than you want me to.”

“Oh, I don't mind you being here!” KO said cheerfully. “It’s like I got a new sister!”

Fink’s fur bristled in indignation. “You wanna try that again?” she hissed, pointing her smaller, portable death-ray to his head.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Gar interrupted, followed by Carol. “Fink, what is this Carol is telling me?”

“I think we’d better sit down and let her explain everything from the start,” Carol sighed.

“Well,” Fink started very primly, “it all started with my adoption papers...”

-Five days ago-

Judge Gladys, regretfully presiding over the more problematic adoption cases, adjusted her reading glasses and re-read the explanation of how the prospective father had… “acquired” the kid he was trying to adopt. Not even the third re-read made it any less… what it was.

“Professor, walk me through this, please. You've had this child in your custody for how many years? And it didn't occur to you to go to the authorities even once in that time?”

The professor shrugged charmingly and flashed her a smile that would have made more hot-blooded individuals fan themselves. Thank Cob for reptilian genes and her old divorce.

“You are not answering my questions,” she said sternly.

“Judge Gladys,” the professor approached her, still smiling, and casually slid - Oh Cob, it really was a wad of cash! - towards her. “How much will make this conversation go faster?”

The downside of reptilian genes was that when her jaw dropped, it really dropped. At least the sentiment seemed to be mirrored by the professor’s husband, facepalming with a passion beside him.

-Four days ago-

Professor Venomous, in his striped shirt, drooped sadly at the lone table in the visitation room of Lakewood Jail.

“...kidnapping, bribery, insubordination, contempt of the court and general naughty business,” he was explaining dejectedly. “And those are just the charges that managed to stick.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Fink. What happened after they took me away?”

Fink’s tail lashed angrily from side to side and she looked away, tightening her crossed arms even more. 

“Answer your step-dad, child,” Boxman elbowed her. 

“Yeah, so,” she bristled and started, “Boxboss told everyone I was actually his biological kid and they all just took one look at us and believed him.”

Boxman beamed.

“I've never been so insulted in.my.life,” Fink bristled even more.

“Hey now! It worked, didn’t it!” Boxman chirped, pushing at PV a big power-drill-shaped cake.

“Oh my Cob,” Carol gasped. “So that good for no-” she caught Mr. Gar’s not very covert eyebrow wiggle in KO’s direction and coughed. “I mean, good old Venomous is in jail? Oh, Fink, you poor soul, I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, you’re welcome to stay with us until they release him,” Mr. Gar nodded and tried a welcoming smile. “Right, KO?”

“Of course! It’ll be great!” he beamed.

“No, no, no,” Fink shook her head. “That’s not it. Cos you see, that cake wasn’t just shaped like a power drill...”

-Four days ago-

“Hey now! It worked, didn’t it!” Boxman chirped, pushing at PV a big power-drill-shaped cake. “You can't argue with results, kiddo. Now let's break your "step-dad" outta this joint!”

To Venomous’s wide-eyed shock and Fink’s cheek-burning embarrassment, Boxman’s entire hand splatted into the cake, swishing out a power drill in a shower of coconut cream, while various alarms sounded throughout the complex.

“I thought the whole point was for me to tunnel out in secret,” Venomous managed before Raymond’s hand cannons blasted the windows.

-Three days ago-

“Hey! What are you doing here?” the guard called after her. “Aren't you related to those weird robots that attacked the jail yesterday and got trapped inside instead?”

“Oh, puh-lease!” Fink channelled her inner Boxman. “Sir, I'm a mutated rat girl. Whyyy would I be associated with a bunch of robots, a cyborg, and a snake man?”

“Hahaha, you're right, how silly of me. Move along,” the guard said and stepped back.

It was only after she had scuttered behind a corner, accompanied by Mikayla holding the guard’s keys in her mouth, that he realized he had never actually said anything about “a cyborg and a snake man.”

He sounded the alarm just as Shannon and Ernesto were freeing Raymond and Darrell, who had gotten themselves trapped in the jailhouse the previous day.

-Two days ago-

“What do you mean, you lost Shannon and Ernesto!?” Boxman shouted, almost hanging off Darrell’s cowboy lapels. “They were sent there to rescue you!”

“P-professor Venomous had checked himself into the VIP lounge cell,” Darrell muttered, looking suitably cowered. “So we didn’t know where to look...”

“A-apparently, the jacuzzi in that cell suite is excellent,” Raymond added weakly by a way of explanation. Boxman’s death-glare silenced him.

Fink stood by, staring at the sky in abject resignation, and thinking hard about whether she really, really wanted to be related, in any capacity whatsoever, to those people.

Nobody paid attention to the tiny old lady with the walkie-talkie and the ninja gear who silently swiped Jethro and Mikayla into the bushes by the jailhouse, never to be seen again.

Fink, lost in her musings, was next.

“Oh my Cob,” Carol gasped in shock. “Don’t tell me you were caught as an accomplice in a jailbreak plot!? At your age!? Oh, Fink, you poor soul, I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, we’ll do our best to explain to the judge that it wasn’t your fault and it was your… boss who’s to blame. And you’re welcome to stay with us until then,” Mr. Gar nodded, frowning just a bit. “Right, KO?”

“I can invite Dendy over and we can have slumber parties, and go to school together, and do our homeworks together...” KO shone like the spring sun outside.

“No, no, no,” Fink shook her head. “That’s not it either. Cos you see, once the jail people got fed up with constantly having robots stuck in there, they scheduled an emergency hearing for my boss...”

-Two days ago-

“Rejected,” Judge Gladys banged her gavel and slammed the case folder closed. “This child, Fink, already has a rather spotted record, and I cannot in good conscience leave her in the hands of a convicted felon.”

“But you’re the one who convicted me!” Venomous exploded. “For trying to speed up her adoption process! Completely unjustly, if I may add!”

“Kidnapping, bribery, insubordination, contempt of the court and general naughty business, remember? You are a felon.”

“But I was a felon before! So is my husband!”

“PV,” Boxman elbowed him.

“We terrorize a bunch of kids from across the street every day!”

“Shush, PV,” Boxman elbowed him more urgently.

“One of them is even my lovechild!”

“Oh, for Cob’s sake...”

“I'm just saying--!”

“SHUSH ALREADY YOU'RE MAKING IT WORSE!”

“Your what now?” Judge Gladys stuck her glasses on and opened the file. “I didn’t see anything about that in your background check!”

“Your honour, if I may-” Fink tried to get in a word edgewise.

“No, you may not! This child is to be immediately taken from your custody!”

“But she’s my-” Boxman tried.

“Oh, yes! Thanks for the reminder. And further away from you, too!”

“In fact, I’m going to place her with the said ‘lovechild’ until a satisfactory permanent solution presents itself.”

“What!?” Venomous raged. “With Carol!? You cannot! There’s no telling what heroic, wholesome things she might teach to my evil baby rat!”

“Court dismissed!” Judge Gladys banged her gavel again, looking for all the world one twitch away from hurtling it at the professor.

KO stared, some tea dripping from his hanging mouth. Mr. Gar had clutched his head in his hands, doubled over the table. Carol was gently twitching and twisting a baseball bat like a balloon animal.

“I can’t believe we never realized that’s Laser, cos that’s Laser, alright,” Mr. Gar grumbled under his breath.

“A-and that?” KO pointed to the inconspicuous giant death-ray in their living room.

“But it’s a memento from my dearest daddy ugh Boxman, Your Honor! I am so going to miss him!” Fink suddenly clutched at her heart and sported the most teary, shimmery, star-filled anime eyes that KO had ever seen.

“I see,” KO deadpanned, KO-ed by the impact.

“Right,” Carol said decisively and grabbed the envelope with the ‘temporary placement’ documents Fink had delivered to her. “Fink, sweetie, please don’t think that you’re not welcome here for as long as you need, because you are. However...” she added to a background of thunder and lightning, “we are going to have another very urgent hearing with Judge Gladys right now.”

The men in the family hugged each other and cowered.

Carol kicked down the door of the courtroom and went right to the exposition of her carefully constructed testimony on the delicate and complicated case that she was taking part in. It went like this: 

“Venomous, you sore excuse for a garter snake, get your mutant ducks in a row, or else I WILL adopt the rat! I already have temporary custody anyway! And it’s not even like it’s the first time I'll be raising your abandoned kid!”

Venomous’s jaw dropped. Boxman stared.

“Ooh, if it isn’t my yoga instructor! Carol, dear, I thought I recognized that temporary placement address!” Judge Gladys chirped.

“Your what now?” Venomous broke into cold sweat.

“Hey, Gladys! How’s it going?” Carol said more calmly and propped herself on the podium. “Do you think we can settle this case today?”

“Why of course! Anything for you!”

“Hey! Hey, I protest!” Venomous tried.

“Do you really want the kid?” Judge Gladys ignored him.

“Yeah, I think I do. Let’s see, my husband and I are heroes, we have one boy Fink’s age, a stable home, where do I sign?”

“I protest! That’s nepotism!” Venomous was starting to sound really panicked.

“While we’re at it,” Judge Gladys said and threw him a side-glance, leaning towards Carol, “I heard something about a ‘lovechild’? Do you want child support with that?”

“OhmiCob,” Venomous squeaked.

“Let’s settle Fink’s situation first,” Carol shook her head after a moment’s thought. “I don’t want the poor kid taking any more of that man’s influence than is strictly necessary.”

Boxman had to prop up the wobbling Venomous.

“Should I at least keep these villains in jail forever, then?” Judge Gladys grinned like her reptilian cousins after a good meal. “For everyone’s sake.”

“Wellll...” Carol poked her lip in a show of consideration.

“ENOUGH!”

Everyone looked towards Venomous, who was dramatically sinking to his knees, still supported by his husband.

“Enough!” he sobbed. “I see now that if I should stay, I would only be in everyone’s way. So fine, take me away!”

“Oh, boy, where have I heard that one before,” Carol muttered and rolled her eyes.

“But please, at least leave Fink with my beloved Boxy so he can take care of her,” Venomous reached out towards the judge. “She needs to be raised under a good bad influence. Er. You know what I mean. You can keep me here! Forever! To rot!” He threw an arm over his eyes and swooned.

“Rot? Didn’t you check into the VIP lounge cell, with the jacuzzi?” Judge Gladys mumbled, adjusted her glasses and looked over his file.

“Don’t make my family pay the price for my actions!” Venomous proclaimed. “I take all the blame upon myself!”

“Oh, PV, no!” Boxman cried. “Don’t do it, PV!”

“Don’t forget me while I rot away in jail, Boxy, my true love!” Venomous grabbed his hands. “And know that I will always love you!”

“Oh, PV!” Boxman bawled and kissed him. “I will always love you, tooooo!”

“Come visit me in jail, Boxy!” Venomous managed through the passionate, but rather mis-aimed kisses he was planting on Boxman’s wet face.

“Oh my Cob, and what have I done to punish me so,” a bright red-faced Fink mumbled from behind Carol.

“I will, my beloved husband!” Boxman bawled even harder. “I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes!”

"Oh, put a sock in it, I'll free you!” Judge Gladys groaned. “Just quit blubbering already. We’ll free you, we can’t afford the aggravation.”

“But Fink-” Venomous’s voice trembled.

“Fink is turning 16-21 years old in a week,” Judge Gladys consulted the case folder briefly. “And then she can decide all by herself.”

“Wut,” Venomous debated.

“Just like that?” Boxman discoursed.

“Just like that,” Judge Gladys nodded. “And in the meantime, Fink can have a few sleepovers at Carol’s, while you two prepare her a good birthday party. As a treat for putting up with you two for so long.”

The couple of evil geniuses stared.

“Case dismissed,” Judge Gladys banged her gavel one last time and chucked a box of tissues at them. “And don’t ever let me see your faces here again.”

Chapter Text

“Boxman, am I a bad father?”

Boxman peeked from the kitchen to see his husband dramatically draped all over the sofa like a sad snake.

“No, PV, Fink is lucky to have you,” he said while he calmly made some tea. 

Venomous’s “moods” still needed keeping an eye on, but he’d had ample opportunity to observe him. Dramatic, self-reflective moping was nothing to worry about; it was when Venomous became very highly functional and wildly productive that there was cause for concern.

“Alright, now scoot over and tell me what happened.”

“No,” he mumbled with his face buried in a sofa cushion.

“What did you do to your teenage daughter, PV?” Boxman unceremoniously grabbed him by the back of the collar and lifted him just enough to insert himself below. He then dropped his dearly beloved’s head on his thigh and blew on his tea.

“She took my sports car and went street racing. At night. And she’s only 16-21 years old! Wasn’t it normal for me to be worried?”

“Wellll, I think Stink can handle herself pretty well. She did go to space war with you and drive a spaceship as a kid.” And then he added, seeing how Venomous started to bristle. “So, how exactly did you express your worry?”

“I followed her. Very discretely. Mixed in with the crowd. And I mean, she already knew most people there, so I couldn’t help running into some of her friends!”

“Uh-huh,” Boxman nodded, seeing where things were going.

“They were very friendly! We hit it off great! Started chatting about cars and the race and stuff! And I had nothing, I swear, nothing to do with the fact that their flag girl didn’t turn up…” Venomous mumbled and buried his face in Boxman’s soft tummy. “They gave me her uniform and all. And I got to wear my own boots.”

Boxman swallowed a whole gulp of scalding tea.

“Would that be one of those uniforms with what’s known as ‘slutty shorts’?”

“Mmmmaybe?”

“Do you have pictures?”

“Yes, actually. Fink’s friends were nice, they all high-fived me and we took selfies together and all. They even invited me to come to the next race! I don’t understand why only Fink is so mad at me!”

“Really?” Boxman deadpanned.

“She drove my sportscar straight through the finish line, didn’t slow down and didn’t come back. And now she won’t talk to me.”

“Inexplicable.”

Boxman played with his shiny black hair for a bit in silence.

“Come on, PV, even you are not that dense. What’s really bothering you?”

“Did I… did I do the right thing? By bringing her back here?” Venomous said quietly, face still hidden in Boxman’s puff.

“Huh? Of course. Why would you even doubt that?”

“But Cob made it so that everyone got ‘their best life’, including Fink. Which meant living on that planet, apparently. And I brought her back here.” Venomous finally sat up and faced Boxman, who extended a tea-warmed hand to caress his cheek.

“Everyone? Do you honestly believe that you were better off on that planted instead of here?”

“No, of course not,” Venomous shook his head and kissed the taloned palm. “But that never was meant to include me, after all I did. I was there because I was all Fink had, and the best thing for her was to be with me. I don’t know what would have happened to me if she didn’t need me. And I… I took her away from that place and brought her to the life that’s best for me. Here.” He rubbed his face and shook his head, as if trying to get rid of uninvited memories. “I’m good at doing that, doing what’s best for me.”

Boxman bravely bit down on a comment that his beloved husband was, in fact, absolutely cobbing terrible at doing what was best for him, and opted for pulling him closer instead.

“Hey. It’s not just Fink. I need you too, and I didn’t get my best life until after you returned to me.”

Venomous stared at him, wide-eyed, and just a bit blushy. “Box…”

“What?” Boxman grinned and shoved the mug in his hands. “It’s the truth, husband.”

He then cupped his face gently with his mismatched, warm hands and pulled him in for a small, affectionate, unassuming kiss - completely unremarkable because it was just one of many, many kisses they’d shared over the years and would continue to share, no matter what else the universe threw their way. It was just a tiny reminder of the great love behind it.

“Box…” Venomous sighed, a bit overwhelmed.

“What was best for Fink when she was 6-11 was to finally monopolize the time and attention of her dad and enjoy your time together.” Boxman said sternly and waved a finger wisely. He hadn’t spent all that time reading psychology books for nothing. “But kids grow, and what’s best for her, now that she’s 16-21, is to be with people, find herself and her own path, and make a few big blunders on the way. Also,” he added, with a pointed look, “what’s best is for you to be here for her and make sure she has a place to land, if all else fails her. Yes?”

“It’s what I never got,” Venomous murmured.

“Me neither.” Boxman shrugged. “But the point is, what’s best for you doesn’t have to be bad for others. Not even when you’re a villain.”

Venomous nodded and took a sip of his husband’s tea with a smile. It was an idea that he was still struggling to accept as true, but… there he was, and there was Boxman, and they had a family, and he realized… 

“Maybe… for me, the point of it all was to figure out what my best life was before I could have it. I was the only one who didn’t know.”

“Maybe. Who cares,” Boxman shrugged. “You’re here now, and we’re all fine, and that’s all that matters, really.”

Chapter Text

He dipped a finely-pedicured toe into the tip of the fishnet stocking and slender purple fingers carefully pulled the fine material up a long, toned leg, making sure nothing was crooked, and brought the hem over his knee and all the way to mid-thigh. Then, with a slightly flushed face, he repeated the same with the other stocking. He looked sideways to the other… items on the sofa and bit his lip.

“Something the matter, PV?”

“It’s just that...” he murmured, “I haven’t really done this before.”

“Really? What a waste. All of these suit you so much.”

“I don’t even know how to properly wear these,” he lifted the mess of black frill and delicate straps, throwing a look at Boxman’s seemingly expert attire. “Does it go over the corset or...”

“Oh, come on. It’s hardly even a real corset. It’s just a glorified leotard.”

“Yeah?”

“It would be too hard to move like that in a real corset,” Boxman explained and took the frilly bundle with a small grin. “Come on, pull on that leotard and I’ll help you with the garters.”

He did so obediently, blushing like he was a teen again. Boxman’s expert talons ministering to his butt to make sure the jockstrap didn’t show really didn’t help any. He was beginning to sweat, and they hadn’t even started.

“Legs up, PV,” Boxman cooed.

“Hwuoat!” he squeaked, giving his husband a scandalized look.

“These are panty-style,” he grinned and demonstrated. “You just put them on like shorts. Come on, legs up.”

Venomous grabbed the offending item and pulled them on, making sure to do an extra shimmy in the process, just because he could. Judging by the gleam in Boxman’s eyes, it didn’t go unnoticed.

In retaliation, Boxman made extra, extra sure that his stockings were then well-clipped, and no straps were twisting where they shouldn’t. If he carried on with the thorough inspection, Venomous realized, he’d find it very hard, no pun intended, to dance like this.

The sight of Boxman leaning forward with his soft, round boo- he coughed - bosom slightly overflowing out of his attire definitely wasn’t helping any.

“Something the matter, PV?” Boxman asked again, this time with a grin suggesting he knew exactly what the matter was and was perfectly happy to be its source. 

“What next?” he sat down, crossing his legs, just to be on the safe side.

“You do the boot and gloves, and I’ll help you put these on,” Boxman said and showed him the collar and the bunch of faux chains.

Venomous gulped. It was just felt, beads and sequins, of course, but… it gave him ideas.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Boxman chided him gently as he climbed on the sofa behind him. “At least you’re getting to use your own boots.”

“If I’m going to twist an ankle, might as well do it in comfortable boots,” he mumbled defensively.

“You won’t twist anything, PV,” Boxman cooed and planted a warm kiss behind his ear as he was fastening the collar. “Well, nothing that’s not supposed to be twisted in the scene, that is.”

Venomous didn’t say anything, just staring at his own reflection in the floor-length mirror tucked in one corner of the small room.

“So we’re really doing this?” he asked, almost absently, as if his mind was on something else.

“Hm?” Boxman hopped down, took his hand and tried to catch his eyes, too. “Well of course.”

“...”

“PV?”

“It’s just that…” Venomous started and stopped, licking his lips. “Well, I guess that of all things, I didn’t expect Fink to become a theater kid,” Venomous finished, rather miserably.

“Well, you could always stop her, I guess? If it bothers you so much.”

“Oh Cob, no,” he shuddered and fingered his collar. “Remind me, what happened when you forbade Darrell from taking over Boxmore, back in the day?”

“He took over Boxmore,” Boxman sighed dramatically.

“Right. If I forbid her theater, she’ll be pitching her ‘Rats - The Musical!’ or something in that vein to the NRC troupes by next semester.” He sighed and looked away from the mirror. “I just have to get this over with and hope it’s just a phase.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. The outfit looks amazing on you. I mean, anything looks great on you, but this...” Boxman gave him an admiring, sparkling look.

“Don’t get me started on the outfit,” Venomous groaned and hid his face in his hands. “I knew what the Chicago outfits looked like, in theory, but this dress rehearsal is suddenly making it all too real.”

“PV,” Boxman said decisively, cupped his face and lifted it to look at him. “I know for a fact that you’ve pole-danced in a strip club. I was there, you know. I saw you. You can’t possibly have a problem with a few stockings and garters now!”

Venomous looked distinctly shifty-eyed.

“PV?” Boxman asked suspiciously, still holding his face. “What’s really the matter?”

“...”

“?”

“Well... I’m a bit past my young-buff-superhero age,” Venomous hissed and went a lovely shade of eggplant. “And look at me decked out like this, and in public, too.”

Boxman sighed what Venomous was starting to privately term his ‘exercising saintly patience’ sigh. He became even more auberginian.

“So that’s what it was.”

To Venomous’s absolute horror, Boxman whipped out of thin air one of his relationship books, complete with color-coded bookmarks. He consulted it for a minute while Venomous sweated, and then slammed it shut decisively and gave him a measuring look. Venomous sweated some more.

“Look, I had decided that I wasn’t going to say anything, but...” Boxman started conspiratorially, “why do you think that Fink asked you to take part in the performance in the first place?”

“Uhm. Because they had a lot of parts to fill and I said I wanted to be more involved in her life?”

“Mmm. And she just agreed. Just like that. Just rolllllled over, like the good, obedient ratgirl we all know her to be.”

“What are you driving at?” Venomous squinted at him, suddenly suspicious.

“And when you did join, alllll of those spare parts, down to ‘random prisoner 17’ and ‘random passer-by 34’ mysteriously got filled overnight? By eager guys, gals, and nonbinary pals with hitherto zero interest in theater whatsoever?” Boxman asked pointedly.

“Oh, Cob.” Venomous paled. “Don’t tell me that she-”

“She used your ‘doing yoga in neon green shorts, leg up at 100°’ pic on the recruitment poster, yes.” Boxman grinned evilly. “A favorite of mine, too, by the way.”

Venomous made a choked noise in his throat and gently curled into the smallest deathly-embarrassed ball he was capable of.

“So you see, you have aaabsolutely nothing to worry about on the ‘past my young-buff-superhero age’ front, husband!” Boxman patted his head encouragingly, looking mighty proud of himself.

Then he frowned.

“Hey PV, is that… PV, I think you’re- The leotard is- Nooo, no, no, no! No rattlers, PV!! We don’t rattle at family members, PV!!!”

Half an hour later, Boxman had managed to talk his husband out of the more villainous revenge schemes he had come up with, get the rattling tail back under control, shown Venomous the offending recruitment poster, gotten the rattling tail under control again, fixed his stage costume, and had even managed to get him to go over his lines once last time.^[1]

“Well, look at it this way, PV,” Boxman eventually said to his calmer husband, “kids don’t do this sort of shenanigans with parents they don’t get along with. Trust me on this one. The Fink who used to live around Shadowy would have never tried to use you as bait for her theater pals. Plus, it’s very properly villainous!”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Venomous sighed somewhat wistfully, soothing himself by fixing his stage make-up. “I am very proud of her, you know. Not least of all for putting up with me.”

“See? Now pull yourself up by the garters and go be a supportive dad!” Boxman cheered him.

“Mmm,” he purred and gave Boxman a half-lidded look. “I think I need some more cheering up,” he said, hitched up the other’s somewhat tight skirt and pulled him astride his lap. “A little good-luck kiss, maybe?”

“Why stop at little?” Boxman grinned. “Good luck with your big theater debut, PV,” he chirped and hopped into it with his usual enthusiasm.

Halfway through the good-luck kiss, though, Venomous’s features twisted in thought, eyebrows coming together for a kiss, too.

“Wait a minute, Boxy,” he finally broke the kiss. “Howww come you know so much about what’s a real corset and how to properly use garters?”

“Hm? From experience, of course,” Boxman said matter-of-factly and expertly fixed his own (very manly) dress.

Venomous processed this. 

“You mean like… you have an ex-girlfriend who liked to dress up-”

“PV,” Boxman grabbed him by both shoulders and looked at him seriously, “husband. You know how in university, money can be tight for a creative genius with a grand vision, especially one that features highly explosive stuff, yes?”

“Erm. I guess? But what does that-”

“And don’t let me put too fine a point on it, but a certain type of discerning gentlemen, such as yourself, would not let such a trivial thing such as cash stand between them and a load of this,” and he succinctly slapped his butt, “dressed up in this,” and he just as informatively snapped his garter.

Venomous stared.

“Oh, don’t be like that, it was just pictures, and it was all very tasteful,” Boxman tossed and hopped off his lap. “Mostly.”

Venomous stared.

“Rehearsal starts in two!” someone shouted from outside their dressing room and banged on the door. They had learned that hard way not to enter that room.

“That’s us, PV!” Boxman chirped and bounced out. “Let’s go!”

“Boxman, wait!” Venomous suddenly came to life. “Boxman! You cannot just throw that at me and disappear! Boxman!”

“Boxman, who were those ‘gentlemen’!? And don’t run away! Why didn’t I know of this!?”

“Boxman! Where can I buy the pictures!?”

The new assistant, Bobo, sidled next to director Fink and appraised the scene over the top of their clipboard.

“Erm. Director...” they started hesitantly, “I’m not sure that a passionate kissing scene between the prison ward and the knife prisoner was part of the script. Isn’t it a bit...”

“Oh, it wasn’t part of the script,” director Fink waved them off with only mild annoyance. “We just couldn’t get them to stop during rehearsals.” And then she added helpfully at the facepalming assistant, “They’re just repressed old men, Bobo, cut them some slack.”

Chapter Text

Professor Venomous looked at his reflection in the mirror of his room in the small, unremarkable hotel he would have never chosen for himself as he buttoned up the sharp charcoal gray shirt he’d brought with him just for this occasion. 

Not bad, if he could say so himself. He wasn’t getting any younger, but he was definitely still hotter than all of those post-grads taken together that he was chaperoning to their first big conference in Neo Riot City. His professorship had its perks, and one of them was that he got to travel all over the place for conferences, fieldwork, and guest lectures. And having the chatty, parched for gossip post-grads with him only made things more fun, he thought, grinning at his own reflection.

It had been the last day of the actual conference, and by the old unwritten rule of academia, it was time to let everyone’s tangled hair down. So his post-grads would find out that he’d sneaked out of the hotel. (They would do the same, after all.) They always did. And they’d certainly notice that he won’t return. Or if he did, that he wouldn’t be alone. And then they would gossip. Like they did every time.

Venomous took a step back and evaluated what he saw - he was freshly showered, his hair was in a deceptively casual ponytail, his makeup was sharp enough to cut, and his best casual suit and gray shirt were hugging his body just tightly enough to accentuate the good shape he was in while still leaving enough to the imagination. Just a dab of expensive cologne, and he grabbed his wallet, watch and room key and headed out.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the post-grads, way less polished than him, trying to sneak out inconspicuously. They saw him, too. Someone gasped, and someone stopped someone else from whistling. He pretended to be too busy putting on his sleek watch to notice them as he swiftly made his way down the softly carpeted corridor, satisfied that his appearance had the desired effect on all spectators.

Oh, just how his colleagues and the administration were going to talk, he thought gleefully behind his carefully expressionless face. 

Every time! What way is that for a professor to behave, they would say indignantly. 

And he’s a married man on top of that, they would shake their heads and clutch their pearls. 

That’s what you get for permitting villains to get tenures in respectable universities like ours, they would bemoan.

Venomous allowed his hungry grin to show on his face only once he was out of sight and deep into the loud, welcoming, anonymous crowd of nighttime Neo Riot City. He breathed in deeply the air of his old home, from back in another life, and let the stuffy academic weight of the day slip off his shoulders.

He hailed a cab. It was finally time to have some fun.

Cob, when was the last time I did this? At that conference in Townsburg? Or was it that time in Los Duendes, when the post-grads almost ran into me at the bar? That was a close call. It could have ruined my whole little game.

He smiled as the car dove in the night and took him towards the flashier part of the nightlife district. The scene hadn’t changed all that much since he had been a young, thirsty hero in that city, and the bar he’d chosen this time was an old favorite. He was strangely excited to see how it had changed. 

If only someone had told him back then that he’d be back in it 16 to 21 years later, doing this… he chuckled silently.

It was hard to believe that he was married now, and to a high-level villain, no less. He was genuinely happy to be married to him. But as perfect and exciting as Boxman was, they’d been together for some time now, and things could get a little… too routine for his taste, what with work and kids and villainy and whatnot. And he was a big enough man to admit that he was a thrill-seeker, so… occasions like this were perfect to break the routine a bit.

The little game he played between his private and university life was probably not very sophisticated. A little cheap and even petty, maybe. But when had that ever stopped him? He saw an opportunity. He took it. That was all.

As soon as he set foot into the place, he spotted the lone, very attractive figure sitting at the bar. He grinned, excited, and checked himself out one last time in the nearest reflective surface. If looks could kill, he smirked in satisfaction.

“Hey, handsome. What can I buy you?” He purred as he slid in the empty bar chair.

“‘Hey handsome’? Really? That’s the best pick-up line you could come up with?”

“Oh. I didn’t realize you were up for a bit of role-playing,” he shrugged charmingly and then leaned in and added in a low, breathy voice, “Next time we do this, you’re definitely getting a tall, dark and mysterious stranger trying to pick you up while your husband is away on a boring conference.”

“Wow. Then I’d better look forward to it, you old perv,” Boxman laughed and pulled him in for a nice, thorough kiss. 

Venomous sighed happily and melted into it. He’d been looking forward to seeing his husband and showing him around NRC for the whole four cob-danged days of the stupid conference. He had missed him, but he only now realised just how badly.

“I missed you,” he breathed out. Routine be danged, he really had.

“Me too,” Boxman smiled and squeezed his hand. “So, how was the conference? How many people’s careers did you manage to ruin?”

Venomous grinned and told him. He also told him about the deeply impressed post-grads who had “accidentally” spotted him on the way out, and the two of them cackled evilly at his impersonations of the pearl-clutching that would ensue back at the uni when his colleagues learned that the notorious Professor Venomous had not slept in his room yet again.

Yes, these conferences were really something - not only did he get to dress up and meet his Boxy for fun dates all over the world, but he also got to wind up the academic morality police, who had no idea who he was really sneaking out to see. 

Plus, it was good to be reminded, once in a while, just how much Boxman meant to him.

Perfect.

Chapter Text

Boxman loved his husband’s body. He’d loved it when it was all new between them, and he loved it equally now, years later, when he knew it as well as he knew his own.

He loved it so much, not just because it was a really hot one (although it was), or even just because it was his (although Boxman was pretty sure he would have loved his PV no matter how he looked). 

He loved it because despite all that had happened since they met, its warmth and its smell and the way it perfectly wrapped around his own were the great, comforting constants in his life and their relationship. No matter what demons gnawed at the two of them inside, the warmth of his husband’s embrace was always there, always real.

He loved exploring every last bit of it, every nook and curve, and lately, every little wrinkle. He had it all memorized by heart, and it still always felt like a discovery. It felt like a small miracle, every time he got to just reach out and touch it.

Although, he realized one night, curled up in bed, that there was one thing he didn’t know about it...

“Hey PV,” he said, lips trailing kisses on the jagged edges of an old scar on his husband’s ribs. “Who did this?”

“Hmm?” Venomous purred, just enjoying the touch and the warmth.

“If it’s alright to ask. You never told me.”

“That’s because I don’t really know, to be honest,” he frowned a bit and rearranged himself to accommodate Boxman, who snuggled next to him. “It’s from back when I was a hero.”

“Ouch.” Boxman winced and covered the scar. “Got knocked out, woke up with it, sort of thing?” 

“Nothing as dramatic. It was… it was ridiculous, actually.” He groaned and rubbed his face. “I’d forgotten how absolutely ridiculous, until now. And it was all Greyman’s fault, I’ll have you know.”

“Huh? What happened?”

“Cob-danged incompetence and mayhem, that’s what happened,” Venomous grumbled, and then sighed in exasperation. “It was… Greyman got from somewhere info about this big villainous get-together. Very hush-hush, a lot of villains and all.”

“Wow. Sounds serious.”

“That’s what Foxtail said, so she naturally decided they were plotting something outrageous. She just had to make a huge deal of it. Decided we can’t take all of them by ourselves, so she even called other heroes in. As if the humiliation wasn’t going to be big enough as it were.”

“Humiliation?” Boxman asked while Venomous kneaded his bicep as stress-relief.

“So there we are, this huge bunch of heroes, all convinced we’re onto something big. And we bust into the meeting place, and it’s chock full of villains, and we start fighting. Of course. And of course, nobody pays attention to the great big banner that says “Speed-date and mingle for those of the villainous persuasion! Find your evil half with us!” hanging right over the melee. Complete with balloons and all.”

Venomous was facepalming, violet with second-hand embarrassment, so he didn’t see how very still Boxman became at that.

“And us heroes didn’t know each other very well, so our teamwork sucked even more than the villains’, while they were all enthusiastic to show off to their prospective dates. They had also brought their best & latest weapons to show off and all. It was a bloody disaster.”

Boxman gently curled into their blanket.

“And I was already pretty famous, so heroes kept tossing at me anything even remotely mechanical to fight. I wanted to kick their butts more than those of the villains, to be honest.” Venomous growled and kneaded Boxman some more. “So someone tossed a giant fish robot at me at some point. I tried to drain it, but it turned out to be glorb-powered, so it ended up with just enough juice left in it to manage to bite me.”

“Noooo,” Boxman moaned.

“I tried to find out which villain it belonged to, later, once I could show my face in public after that fiasco. But I only got the name ‘Angelfish’ for my troubles.”

“Angelfish,” Boxman repeated faintly from inside his forming cocoon. 

“Yes, but it wasn’t their real name. It turned out that they had been using nicknames for that event, so I never found out who it belonged to. And it was just the worst pun, Boxman, you can’t imagine how bad it was! The robotic fish was an anglerfish, you see. And I had allowed someone with that kind of terrible nickname to bite me.”

“...”

“Heh,” Venomous laughed. “Actually, I think I had a bit of a crush on them for a while. Imagine, the only villain who ever managed to get the drop on me.”

“...”

“Hey, you’ve been a villain and into robots for a long time, right?” Venomous perked up. “Maybe you remember someone from back in the day who made such glorb-powered…” Venomous slowed down “...robots…” His eyes started to widen.

One red robotic eye looked at him imploringly from the cocoon next to him.

“...”

“...”

“NO!? Boxman?? No!!”

“I’M SORRY PV I HAD NO IDEA I SWEAR!!”

“Seriously!? Angelfish!?”

“I was going through a phase, alright!!”

“Come out here and face the consequences!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” Boxman mewed as he was pounced upon and swiftly de-blanketed. “Would I ask you if I knew!? Mercyyyy!”

“I demand a compensation,” Venomous hissed as soon as he had the struggling Boxman pinned down comfortably below him.

“Oh?” Boxman perked up and cracked open one eye in interest. “What kind of compensation?”

“I’m sure you can think of something Boxy,” he grinned evilly, practically salivating. “Surprise me,” he purred and attacked his giggling prey.

Yes, Boxman loved his husband’s body. And even though he hated the thought that it had been hurt by his own robotic creations, a small and possessive part of him decided that it loved that scar just a bit more now. 

“Mine,” it whispered greedily, and Boxman wasn’t about to argue with it.

Chapter Text

There was a certain type of kiss that Boxman found hard to trust, for reasons he prefered not to delve into. The first time it had happened, during that whole Dark Plaza fiasco, he’d almost wringed his husband-to-be’s neck for daring to laugh at him. After all, who’d say that sincerely after what had happened?

“I’m so proud of you, Boxy.”

Impossible, right?

And then Venomous had smooched him. As if it was something to be proud of that the horrible brat KO and that horrible uppity Foxtail and their horrible hero ugh friends kicked his butt all the way back into Boxmore with enough vigor to blow up the entire factory - and on top of that, they had stolen his perfectly legitimately obtained glorbs that he’d nicked in the best of villainous traditions! But Venomous had said that and smooched him, and patched him up with all his specially-engineered, deluxe-edition, morally-grey ointments and things, all the while looking at him with that peculiar look he got sometimes. Boxman didn’t understand him at all.

It was only his 20/20 hindsight, years later, that told him his now-husband had meant “I’m so proud of you for going after those glorbs you wanted, despite the overwhelming odds. I’m so proud of you for always doing whatever the Cob you want despite what everyone else thinks. I’m so proud of you for standing up to those heroes that I myself could never face again.”

Maybe it was just as well that he never articulated any of that, back then. Boxman didn’t think he would have believed him anyway.

Whenever he came home (through the roof more often than not) after an altercation with the Plaza heroes or a fight with some other villain, Venomous would smooch him and say the same, and Boxman had been sure that it was just Venomous’s way of teasing him.

Then along came Shadowy, and all those dark times, and so much change… After Boxman had agreed to take back his wayward snake boyfriend, he had felt unexpectedly defensive about some of the new things in his life, such as his retirement, the fact he was a grandfather now, or the step he’d taken back from villainy for reasons he had prefered not to delve into, but had delved into anyway. Reintroducing Venomous back into his life had been strange, to say the least.

“I’m so proud of you, Boxy.”

It had come out of nowhere, really. Nowhere Boxman could see, at least.

And Venomous smooched him. On the cheek, because things were still shaky and tentative between them, seeing that Venomous had dropped through Boxmore’s roof only recently and still seemed constantly unsure about everything.

Besides, that day, there had been that whole business with Boxman’s children putting up that big, beautiful, purple, taxidermied snake on display in a place of honor in the Boxmore lobby and gifting him another one to put in his cabin. Boxman could have easily believed that it truly was Mikayla’s latest hobby, but the way she’d put that little black wig and toy labcoat on the snake while making direct eye contact with the professor had given him a certain hint. Plus, the rest of his kids had had the adorable idea to match their clothes and accessories for the day, so Jethro’s tracks, Ernesto’s tophat, Raymond’s pants, Shannon’s handbag, Darrell’s cowboy hat, and even Sara and Robbie’s diapers were all made from matching… snakeskin. Purplish.

 In short, it had been a strange day at a strange time of his life, and Boxman still had no clear idea what was happening in his tentative boyfriend’s head. He would not have understood it very well even if Venomous had articulated his full meaning, namely “I’m so proud of you for figuring out what the important things in your life really are,” and “I’m so proud of you for not letting me ruin your life, or theirs,” and “I’m so proud of how strong you are.”

Visiting Mr. Logic for the first time since they had fallen out had been… simultaneously easier and more difficult than Boxman had expected. Mr. Logic himself had definitely done what he could to make it easier, and Boxman had discovered that he didn’t mind that at all, for reasons he didn’t have to delve very deep to find. And still it had left him exhausted in a way, and with complicated feelings about his past.

“I’m so proud of you, Boxy.”

Boxman had not really expected the words, but they felt right, and comforting.

Venomous smooched him with those words as soon as Boxman got in through the door of their home. It was just as well, because he didn’t feel particularly proud of himself, and his husband’s words were just what he needed to hear in order to remember that he was doing the right thing by trying to reconnect with his estranged first creation.

And he would have left it at that, because Venomous’s kisses out of pride had always left him a bit mystified and slightly distrustful, and he’d never directly asked about them before. But it had been such a long time…

“What for?” he asked simply.

“Hmm...” Venomous hugged him and buried his face in his green tuft. Boxman thought he caught a glimpse of a brighter purple on his cheeks, but it could have been his imagination. “Because you’re not afraid of difficult things?” Venomous murmured, eventually. “Or of the past. Or of the future, for that matter.”

Boxman looked up at him, wide-eyed. Venomous seemed to be trying hard not to fidget.

And for the first time, Boxman was sure he understood. He could trust those kisses. He should have trusted them all along, he realized.

“Will you look at that,” he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Saying things properly and all!”

Venomous blushed like an entire lilac bush and made to slither away, hissing unintelligibly.

“And I’m proud of you too, you know,” Boxman grinned, grabbed him tighter and hopped on tiptoes to plant a sweet kiss full of love on his beloved husband’s warm cheek.

Chapter Text

When Venomous dainty peeked out from behind the curtains of the side-room of the small, cozy Cobtic church (succinctly named The Church of All Martyrs of That Pointy Bit of the Holy Corn Kernel That Always Gets Stuck Between Your Teeth), which belonged to the retirement home “Twilight of Evil,” the head priest was already done putting out the fire on his robe and was smoothly proceeding to the next part - having an existential crisis over being at work in what was now essentially a kinky small black dress. 

“It’s all going great out there,” Venomous sighed contentedly. “The fight is winding down, and the priest has put out the fire. Amazing legs, that man, and the garters look great.”

“But not greater than yours, scalypoo~” Boxman chirped from where he was busy with some last-minute wedding preparations involving a prominent red button.

“Oh, hush, you fluffybutt you~” he giggled. “I only wish he hadn’t used the banner to put out the fire. Mikayla was so passionate about making it.”

“The psychedelically green & neon purple one that said ‘Wedding Boogaloo 2: Oops they’re doing it again’? Can’t say I’ll miss it,” Boxman tisked.

“She’s a renowned artist now, cuddlybear,” Venomous said a bit reproachfully.

“She,” Boxman stared at him and deadpanned, “is a colorblind troll who enjoys making everyone squirm and suffer because she’s Marquess Beauxce-Mourrent and they can’t tell her jackpoop.”

“And I’m so proud of her for it,” Venomous sniggered. 

“I heard she invited the rest of my family to her next exhibition of leather-and-yarn-doll yaoi tableaus for furry & skinny connoisseurs at the National Art Gallery and I won’t be surprised if that’s what the fight earlier was about. We also got tickets, by the way.”

“Oh, goodie,” Venomous said, paling only a little bit. “But no, the fight was because Raymond has brought his entire filming crew with him and Shannon didn’t like that.”

“Oh. Well, that was very thoughtful of him.” Boxman said and squinted at the ceiling, pausing his work. “Suspiciously so.”

“No, no,” Venomous shook his head. “He wanted to use the wedding as a backdrop to his next music video for free. Also, apparently, his fans want to see his ‘touching and tender home life with his gentle and supportive brothers and sisters’.”

The two villains looked at each other seriously for a moment and then burst out cackling.

“Ah, and also, I think the Beauxce-Mourrent bunch objected strongly to the stripper poles he was setting up for the video. Apparently, ‘demons in glitter fig-leaves waving cobs around’ wasn’t appropriate imagery for a vow renewal ceremony in a Cobtic church. Who would have guessed.”

“Well, I suppose that depends on the vows,” Boxman said thoughtfully and then became suspicious again “Why did Shannon object, though?”

“Because she’s brought her filming crew as well. Same reason. Only instead of a music video, she wants the footage for her Instagrain exclusive promo for ‘Living With the Stars’.”

“And you let her?” Boxman looked at his husband skeptically.

“Well, she did bring all those wonderful dresses for the bridesmaids and the flower arrangements for the guests and all. I couldn’t refuse.”

“Oh, alright, I guess. Mr. Logic did look very fetching with that lily-of-the-valley flower crown.”

“And Billiam with that one wilted daisy behind his ear.”

“I think Mr. Gar was a bit unhappy with his nosegay, though.”

“Mm. It must have been the rafflesia in the middle.”

The two retired villains leered joyously at each other, until some fresh shouting attracted Venomous back to the curtains.

“Ah, Ernesto has just arrived. Oooh, and will you look at that, he’s brought not one, but three plus ones! Good for him, good for him!”

“Wut, really!?” Boxman’s eyes rounded. “But I thought he and Neil were pretty exclusive… Lemme see that.”

He trotted over and butted his husband out of the way. Venomous used the opportunity to drape himself all over his back and prop his head on top of his husband’s.

“Pfft, no, babe, those are the federal agents who have been trying to arrest him all week. The one hanging off his left arm has been trying to get the drop on him for seven years now. Truly beautiful story,” Boxman wiped a tear. “Aaah, young nemesis! I really feel my age when I look at all this young hate!”

“Arrest him? What for?” Venomous's eyebrows crawled up. 

“Well, the usual,” Boxman waved a hand dismissively. “Breaking some health & safety violations, fair market competition laws, Geneva Convention clauses, some tax evasion, you know - the usual eggs you can’t help cracking if you want to run a business as successful as Boxmore.” 

“What was that in the middle?” Venomous asked mildly after he ran that in his mind once again.

“Fair market competition laws! As if it’s somehow Ernesto’s fault if the competition sucks and has easily flammable factories!”

“No, not that one, hone-”

CRASH

Once the smoke blew away from the small crater smack in the middle of the church aisle and the guests stopped coughing and got up, it became clear that Sara and Robbie had also made it in time.

“Are we worried that there’s a hole in the roof now, squishylove?” Venomous asked, wiping the soot off his husband’s face, which had been exposed between the curtains.

“We can use the extra light anyway,” Boxman said dismissively, trotting to see if the crash had damaged anything that it shouldn’t have. “Plus, if they’re here, your son and his Kappa must not be far behind.”

“I’m glad that they agreed to come,” Venomous said quietly.

“Unarmed, too,” Boxman chirped. “Got them seats in the first row, closest to the action.”

“And where is Darrell, by the way?”

“Oh, about that,” Boxman fidgeted and tried to look adorably evil. “Apparently, he forgot that he was supposed to do the catering. So he’s out back… making arrangements.”

“Se we’ve got... no catering?”

“Well, he’s brought his favorite award-winning chickens, so he promised he’ll whip something up as soon as they start laying. He brought his favorite award-winning horse, too, for that matter, but we decided that basashi didn’t go with the theme of the event!”

“Oh, we have a theme now,” Venomous deadpanned.

“Don’t worry, if the chickens don’t lay, I’ll whip him up into the ole coconut cream pie bazooka.” Boxman batted his eyelashes. “Wouldn’t it be romantic? Just like on our first date?”

“Will you rip off your clothes, like you did then, too?” Venomous was trying hard not to grin.

“Anything for you, hissybuns,” Boxman said and pulled his husband down for a kiss.

“And while we’re on the topic, puffybuns, why are the guests all sitting on Jethros?” Venomous used the opportunity to get a solid grip on his s.o.

“Because the retirement home people charge more for chairs, of course,” Boxman explained, matter-of-factly. “And Jethro is so...” he sought for the right word.

“Footstoolesque?”

“He has optimum performance design for the current parameters of the problem, as we inventors say, thank you.”

“And it is only a coincidence that all the Jethros are set to perform a… rather energetic ballet right after our vows?”

“Complete coincidence,” Boxman grinned like a shark. “I cannot see anything going wrong with that.”

“Cob I love you so much,” Venomous breathed.

Boxman grinned wider and wiggled his eyebrows at the convenient little seatee in one corner of the cramped side-room. Venomous reached out to take advantage of the offer and-

“HELLO, you disgusting old lovebirds and lovesnakes! Time to go!” Fink proclaimed and swished open the curtains with a flare.

She was dressed in her usual labcoat and a long purple gauzy skirt over army boots, with a single (1) tiny lilac blossom in her hair, which had been the compromise she and Shannon had reached after Shannon had presented Fink with the designated dress and Fink had presented Shannon with horribly compromising blackmail, consisting of pictures of her, Shannon, liking the old Instagrain photos of her rival celebrity starlet kawaii idol Miss Mummy. 

“Are we ready then?” Venomous coughed and tried to look prim and proper.

“Well, BV has beaten all the guests into submission and into sitting down in their proper sea… proper Jethros, so the audience is ready. Are you?”

“Oh, so Boxy-Venom made it, too!” Boxman exclaimed. “Did he say how uni is going? How are the professors treating him?”

“He beat those into submission, too,” Fink informed him, eyeing the prominent bulge in her other dad’s pant leg. 

It was quite a disturbing sight, mostly on account of it being square and with a button-like protrusion in the middle. She gulped.

“Listen, old pervs, you get presentable and all, and I’ll just, erm, go slip one more layer on. Something in purple, maybe. And bulletproof. Yeah.”

“And no programming the Jethros to run Doom like last time!” Venomous called after her.

She waved him off and left the two of them alone for a final few moments before the event.

“So, this is it,” Venomous said and looked lovingly down at his husband. “Are you ready, Boxy-bunny?”

“Always, candycorn,” Boxman said and took his hand, smiling happily. “Let’s go and have a blast!”

The happy couple held hands and looked at each other soulfully while the fashionable priest delivered an unusually emotional address to them and the audience which had mostly stopped growling at each other at that point. He then handed them the ceremonial cup of corn soup and stood down.

“Boxy,” Venomous started, “I cannot put in words how glad I am to be here with you, conscious for my own wedding for once, and to be surrounded by friends, family, nemeses, and other people who I have not succeeded in killing in the past.”

There were some awws and some boos from the audience. Someone sobbed loudly.

“They bear witness that I’m a better man and villain today because of you. You are the most amazing person I have ever met, and finding you in my trashcan was the best thing to ever happen to me. You make me happy like nothing else in my life ever has.”

Boxman surreptitiously wiped his eye while Venomous picked up the cup.

“So with this corn soup, I promise to continue to love, cherish and support you, and to strive to make you as happy as you make me.”

He took a few sips from the cup, wincing only slightly as Boxman blew his nose with a honk, and put it back down.

“PV,” Boxman took over, “it really is kind of unbelievable that we’re here today, eh?” he laughed. “I am amazed when I look back on our life together and realize how many times we could have gone our separate ways, but always chose to stay together instead and persevered to this day.”

This time, the ‘awww’ of the crowd was almost unanimous, dispersed with only a couple of “blergh”-s.

“From our first date when you were going to terminate our business relationship,” Boxman plowed on, “our second date when you were so embarrassed to be seen with me, or that time you almost left me in that trashcan you mentioned...”

Venomous was growing paler with each soulful comma.

“...or that time you destroyed almost everything I loved and so I dumped your sorry tail,” Boxman went on with a slightly evil gleam in his eye, “or that time you went off to your deep space planet or whatever without me...”

“Please, I’m begging you, get on with it or I won’t be conscious for this wedding either,” Venomous said, biting his lips, nails, and baby-corn boutonnière.

“So the point is,” Boxman finally took some pity, “that through it all, you’ve always been my PV, and I’ve always been your Boxy. You are my smart, strong, beautiful and evil soul-” he sobbed a little “soulmate who always makes life interesting and makes me feel as if anything is possible. It has to be some sort of cobbed miracle that we found each other, I always thought.”

The priest winced only slightly at that turn of phrase while Boxman picked up the cup.

“So with this corn soup, I promise to love, cherish and support you for the rest of our lives,” and he tagged on with a wink, “and to keep you on the straight and narrow so we can both continue to be as happy as we’ve been since the last time we did this.”

He polished off the rest of the soup and returned the cup to the priest, who then proceeded to relay to them Cob’s blessings and to finish the ceremony appropriately.

“...and now, it is time to celebrate the renewal of your vows with an expression of your love, respect and devotion to each other. You may now kiss.”

The two old villains turned to each other and smiled.

Boxman took his husband’s hands in his own, intertwining their fingers, and took in the sight of the other - with the grey streaks in his hair, and the perpetually slightly tired-looking eyes, and the laugh-lines around his mouth which were a new and so very welcome addition to his favorite face in the world.

Venomous also took a moment to etch in his memory the sight of his beloved other evil half - his eyes sparkled and were just as full of energy as the day they had met; the crow’s feet around his organic eye crinkled happily when he looked up at thim; and even his mouth was that adorable heart shape it took whenever his Boxy was very excited. Despite all the proof to the contrary, Venomous could swear that the love of his life had not aged a day.

He leaned in first, whispering a superfluous, but at the same time always dearly needed affirmation:

“I love you so much, Boxy. My Boxy.”

“I love you too, PV. My PV.”

Their lips touched in a soft, warm, familiar kiss, even a little shy, but flooding with love. Boxman was right - despite the years and tribulations and all the other kisses, there was something miraculous in this kiss, after all.

Neither of them could say how long the kiss had lasted, or how when their arms had encircled each other and pressed their bodies together - they just stayed in that moment, basking in each other’s warmth and happiness.

“With this, I pronounce you as married, once again,” the priest closed the ceremony among cheers and showers of popcorn and corn kernels from the audience.

Unfortunately for the said audience, that was also the sign for all the Jethros present to begin their grand modern ballet performance. 

It was also a sign for Darrel to start serving the buffet. With “the ole coconut cream pie bazooka.”

The two old villains oversaw the spectacle with tears of endearment in their eyes and hands firmly on each other.

A lot later, when the party had left the cozy little Cobtic chapel in the interest of its continued survival, and most of the newly started fights had died down, and most of the retirement home’s population had also ambled into the celebration, Fink gave a few shots with a signal flare gun, by her parents’ request.

Eventually, they had everyone’s attention. 

“We have an announcement to make!” Boxman said, clinking daintily a glass because someone had told him that was the thing to do, while Venomous borrowed a mic from Shannon’s filming crew.

“Some of you may have been slightly surprised a few months ago,” he started, “when we said we were moving to this, err… evil retirement home.” He made an expansive gesture at the idyllic stately manor that was the “Twilight of Evil” and coughed politely. “Some of you, in fact, may have been so disbelieving that they stalked the premises 24/7 for weeks on end, completely convinced that we were up to something unspeakable, winning themselves in the process a 0.5 POW level-down for harassing senior citizens after sundown.”

KO went perfectly still and bright red under Venomous’s smirking look, and Dendy facepalmed and patted the bulky arm next to her in a resigned there-there gesture.

“But in fact, the peace and quiet here,” and here Venomous took his husband’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “gave us the time and state of mind to look back and reflect upon our lives, as well as to consider our future in the light of our contemplations.”

The two of them exchanged loving looks.

“Oh Cob no,” Fink mumbled, growing wide-eyed. “And what was the conclusion?” she bravely raised her voice to ask.

“The conclusion was...” Venomous smiled angelically and paused. “Actually, Boxy, would you like to do the honors?”

“The conclusion was,” Boxman grabbed the mic and shouted, “WE ARE BLOWING THIS JOINT!!!”

He whipped the detonator with the trademark red button from his dress pants and brandished it victoriously with a flame in his eye in front of the shocked crowd.

“COBBLE peace and quiet, COBBLE this place and especially COBBLE retirement!” He shouted, not even needing a mic anymore. “We’re eloping to PV’s planet on my newly-built mega-spaceship and we’re going to be SPACE PIRATES!”

“COB YEAH!!!” Venomous joined in, with his best thirsty and unhinged look. “We’re going down swinging or up in flames! And we’re taking everyone’s space treasures with us!”

The two of them cackled evilly while it dawned on the onlookers that the two old villains were serious.

And then Boxman slammed the big red button.

BOOOOOOooommmmm

The entirety of the retirement home lawn, which Boxman had carefully rigged during their “reflective walks,” blew up with spectacular colorful clouds, fireworks and a cacophony of shocked, surprised and geriatric shouts, screams and yahoo-s.

The giant shadow of a spaceship whizzed over the explosion, collected the two very gleeful and well-dressed missiles that had summoned it, and whizzed on.

By the time everyone managed to get their wits together and get off the ground, it was already just a shrinking speck in the gently purpling eastern sky.

On board, two tough old villains smooched passionately and cackled evilly together.

And thus, a new legend of intergalactic piracy was born that day.