Chapter Text
Sunlight pierced its way into the bedroom, moving in a perfect arc that hit Cuphead’s pale face, and a sunflower danced outside based on the whooshing sound he heard out his window. He blinked to get over his drowsiness, then grinned. The young cup remembered the day, and sat up, gaining the energy of someone who’d had plenty of coffee. He never needed the drink to be awake like his younger brother, Mugman, did, but he still enjoyed the hot beverage going down his throat. He licked his lips, now craving coffee, and leaned his head down to look at Mugman. The younger of the two was asleep, of course, muttering something incomprehensible.
Cuphead enjoyed seeing his brother asleep, because Mugman never looked that calm when he was awake. However, today was different—today was special. They needed to maximize their time as thirteen-year-olds.
“Mugs. Mugsy.” Cuphead reached Mugman’s shoulder and poked him.
Mugman muttered something again and rolled over, and Cuphead looked at him in annoyance. He swore his brother could sleep through a hurricane and wouldn’t even notice. A hurricane that wouldn’t be unlike the one in his nightmares.
Cuphead shook his head—too soon. Besides, it wasn’t as if thoughts about the Devil kept him awake at night, sweating and wishing things were different. He was Cuphead, the responsible older sibling, one who always comforted Mugman and ensured he was all right. Nothing gave him pause, and this was no exception. Since they were home, and he was wearing his special sweater, he figured the Devil would never find them.
And he refused to dwell on his one mistake, not when the best day of the year lay ahead of them. Well, second best day besides Christmas and Halloween and Elder Kettle’s birthday.
Elder Kettle…
Cuphead perked up at that moment, realizing the key to getting his sleepy brother up faster.
“It’s too bad.” He pretended to be disappointed. “I was hoping we’d be able to have Elder Kettle’s chocolate chip pancakes with extra whipped cream together, but you’re still lost in dreamland.”
He shrugged and started climbing down the ladder. “Oh well, more for me.”
Mugman shot up like a rocket. “Did you say extra whipped cream?”
He nodded, “Honey too, but if you’re too tired, I under—”
Mugman left before he even finished.
Cuphead sported a satisfied grin. “Works every time.”
He followed his brother into the hallway and found Mugman had already made it downstairs.
Elder Kettle’s cheerful voice floated up the stairs. “You coming, Cuphead?”
“Yes, Elder Kettle.” Cuphead ran down the stairs as fast as possible. He made sure he didn’t slide down the railing, since he and Mugman had tried it once and got a long lecture on safety from Elder Kettle. He didn’t care about safety, but he didn’t want to sit through another presentation on the history of stairs and why they’re deathtraps. If he had to listen to another word about Tai Shan, he’d lose it.
Yes, Elder Kettle was just keeping them safe, but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy those three-hour lectures. Once Elder Kettle started on a subject, it was almost impossible to stop him, even if it meant him talking all night.
“There’s the other birthday boy!” Elder Kettle’s voice shook Cuphead from his thoughts. “I hope the stupid spider didn’t keep you up all night like it did for me.”
Cuphead shrugged, sitting next to Mugman and pouring a generous helping of syrup on his pancakes. “I didn’t hear any spider.”
“Be glad you didn’t, because he’s locked us in a silent war.” He narrowed his eyes, and his dramatic tone amused Cuphead. “He will be mine, just you wait…”
“Riveting.” Mugman, ever the sarcasm master, crossed his arms. “I noticed a crash last night. Is that why?”
“I’ll get him.” Elder Kettle tensed at the stove, but Mugman appeared unbothered.
“If you say so.”
“Anyway,” He said after a moment, as if nothing happened, “Happy Birthday, my boys. It’s the big one-three, five years before you’re adults…”
His eyes appeared glossy. “… I remember being thirteen myself since I started my time in the army just five years after, but you two already know that story.”
“A little too well,” Mugman said under his breath, and Elder Kettle gave him a death glare.
“Did you say something, precious birthday boy?”
“Nope.” He stuffed a forkful of pancakes into his mouth, looking unsettled.
Cuphead shook his head, trying not to laugh, and took a bite for himself. Mugman acted as if he didn’t care about Elder Kettle’s authority, but one grim look from their caretaker always sent him reeling. Cuphead was less susceptible to those looks, leading to him getting grounded more often, which he found unfair. Grounding didn’t lessen his desire for adventure, and being stuck in his room was the worst kind of torture. Seeing people playing out his window and not being able to join them… Elder Kettle knew just how to push his buttons.
“Anyway, you boys deserve a special treat today.” Elder Kettle grinned at them, sunlight reflecting off his shiny teeth. “The carnival’s back in town, so how about we go together?”
Cuphead and Mugman exchanged horrified looks. “No, not there.”
“Why not? I thought you two would jump for joy at this news. I mean, you’ve been begging to go to the carnival for years.”
“We don’t want to anymore.” Mugman’s hands gripped the table harder than necessary.
“Yeah.” Cuphead’s eyes shifted from left to right. “We found out its rigged, so what’s the point?”
Elder Kettle narrowed his eyes. “‘What’s the point?’ You’re not telling me something.”
“Why would we lie to you, Dearest Kettle?”Cuphead’s fake smile was a little too wide.
“You never call me ‘Dearest Kettle’ unless you’re hiding something,” He said, arms crossed. “Plus, your eyes always move all weird when you lie, Cuphead.”
“My eyes aren’t moving,” He said, trying to remain calm, but his eyes shifted again, contradicting that statement.
He put his hands on his hips, but neither of them spoke. “Fine. If you two won’t tell me anything, I guess we’re not going.”
They breathed matching sighs of relief, their shoulders sagging.
“And if you two won’t talk, then I guess I’ll have to.”
“What do you mean?” Cuphead tilted his head to the side.
“If you two don’t want to tell me why you’re freaked out about the carnival, then I’ll tell you one of my favorite long-winded stories. Dare I say, things will get a little confessional here.”
They grumbled and Cuphead grumbled even louder, leaning back in his chair with his hands dragging across his face. Elder Kettle would always tell another boring story every day. If he was trying to punish them, he was doing a great job.
“Don’t give me that. You two brought this on yourselves.” His knees creaked a bit as he began walking. “Come with me to the living room, or you’re grounded.”
They followed him, passing by Cuphead’s pet fish, Cleo, who he stopped to feed, as always. He sat at the piano bench, patting the empty spaces next to him on either side. They looked at each other and sat next to him. Cuphead realized Elder Kettle had been waiting to tell this story for a while. He crossed his arms and leaned back, blowing a small spit bubble. Why was their caretaker like this?
He adjusted his glasses, and Cuphead shifted in his seat again, praying this story would somehow make him forget to interrogate them about the lie. “Now, I need to tell you boys something important. Something I should’ve told you a long time ago.”
“What?” Cuphead had to admit he was more intrigued now.
Elder Kettle took a deep breath, and steam whistled out of his nose. He waited a long time before saying, “I adopted you boys when you were babies, and I said nothing about it.”
Elder Kettle had a guilty look on his face. He even chewed on his knuckle out of nervousness.
Cuphead blinked, relief and surprise coming to him at the same time. He figured he should’ve expected Elder Kettle’s confessional to be something mundane and common knowledge.
“Wait, is that it?”
“What do you mean ‘is that it’? This is supposed to be a dramatic, revelatory moment—you better bask in it!”
“Okay, okay, it’s just… it’s kind of obvious we’re adopted, don’t you think?” Mugman asked, looking sheepish, “I mean, you’re a different appliance than we are.”
“Well, I didn’t think it’d be that obvious,” Elder Kettle said, adjusting his glasses again because they were getting foggy. “I was hoping I’d surprise you, and you’d get upset, but we’d make up by nighttime. It would’ve been a beautiful reunion.”
He wiped a tear at the thought of his elaborate fantasy.
“No, no, we’re very surprised, Elder Kettle.” Mugman elbowed Cuphead a little harder than necessary. “Aren’t we, Cuphead?”
It took Cuphead a couple of seconds to realize what he needed to say. “Oh, yes, we’re very surprised, Elder Kettle. How dare you not tell us this sooner!”
Mugman leaned in. “Calm down, don’t oversell it.”
“You’re giving me advice about this?” Tricking Elder Kettle was his forte, since Mugman used to always refuse to be dishonest as their caretaker. Well, before the whole carnival incident, at least. He wondered if it was for better or worse.
“Don’t lie to me again, boys,” He pointed his cane at them, pushing it forward with every word for emphasis. “The moment’s gone, and I just can’t replicate this feeling again.”
He closed his eyes, appearing forlorn, but then he started looking determined. “But this won’t stop me from talking about how I stumbled across you boys all those years ago.”
That gave Cuphead pause. He’d always pondered how they started living with Elder Kettle, but never asked. He always thought he was overstepping some boundary whenever he wanted to.
“… You won’t interrupt me this time?” He didn’t sound accusatory, just surprised they were being so quiet.
They shook their heads, giving him his best “go on” gestures.
He grinned and took a deep breath. Then, he started coughing, interrupting the dramatic mood for a moment. He chuckled, looking sheepish, and took another deep breath.
********
~Elder Kettle’s POV~
Elder Kettle wouldn’t have considered himself a man longing for company fifteen years ago. His days spent fighting in the army had stomped out any desire for companionship, so when he returned to his home in Inkwell Isle at last, he didn’t mind the emptiness. In fact, some peace was what he needed, so when he opened the door to his cottage, he made a beeline for his bedroom to sleep.
The raging snowstorm also intensified his desire for sleep, and he mused to himself he’d need to start the fire later to keep warm.
However, thinking about the fire made him remember his Rebecca. He attempted to push those thoughts away, but they just resurfaced stronger the more he tried to forget. She was another kettle he’d met before the draft, and he’d fallen harder than he ever had before. She was quite the charmer and loved danger and even caused him to appreciate adventure. In fact, she was the reason he’d stumbled upon King Dice’s show in the first place, and even bought tickets for them to see it live. He’d been excited to go with her, but she left the Inkwell Isles without warning…
Elder Kettle blinked back the oncoming tears, refusing to wallow about his lost love again. He’d wasted enough time on tears, and it was time he moved along. Besides, it’s what she would’ve wanted. She’d insist he had other things to focus on, such as his veteran accomplishments. Elder Kettle told himself again he was content being alone, and even if he weren’t, this weather would’ve prevented him from doing anything with Rebecca, anyway.
But he remembered the days he would spend with her when it was raining. She’d grab a blanket, and they’d spend hours talking about anything on the couch. Any subject was interesting as long as they were together.
When he got to his bedroom, he hid his singular picture of her, taking a deep breath to get a hold of his emotions again. He shook his head, sitting down, realizing how it was easy to notice the ticking of his old clock.
With every tick, he got more and more uncomfortable, and he wished he’d just gotten a normal one. No, he had to be special, and now the one thought flowing through his mind was how he’d said “Love” instead of “Dearest” in one of his letters, and she’d teased him about it for months. She’d never been able to let go of his mistakes.
No. He refused to be a shell of his former self. This was getting ridiculous, because he was Elder Kettle, a man who’d fought braver than anyone, one who’d let his men to victory. He’d gotten a medal to prove it, one he planned to hang on the wall, and needed nothing and no one. Even before her, he’d been a lone wolf, a recluse, and the people of Inkwell Isle often wondered if he’d died or disappeared with the time he was at home. He was not one to wallow in self pity. He controlled his emotions better than anyone, or else he would’ve crumpled under the weight of it all a long time ago. No, he was a survivor. It was his biggest asset, and his favorite part about himself. Yes, his favorite part about himself, and no one else’s.
Elder Kettle collapsed on his bed stomach-first, deciding he needed to go into town as soon as possible. One distraction later, and he’d be back to his normal self. Not that he wasn’t normal, he just needed to get his thoughts back in order. Perhaps he would use this as an excuse to see Porkrind about fixing his stupid clock. To be honest, the grumpy, sarcastic store owner wasn’t Elder Kettle’s favorite, because he always seemed offended by everyone’s mere existence, but there was no better person to help with appliances than him. If he caught Porkrind and talked to him, that would be a bonus. He wasn’t looking for someone to talk to. Not at all.
He rubbed a hand down his face, exhausted. Maybe some sleep would stop the constant barrage of thoughts.
~~~~~~~~
He was floating somewhere. It was white all around him, and he held himself, wondering why this was happening. Maybe he got trapped somewhere, or he’d somehow ended up in the Devil’s domain. If he was there, at least he’d gotten prepared. Elder Kettle had read every book on the Underworld and the Devil, refusing to be caught unawares by the Devil should he be unlucky one day. And that day was today.
He looked around, shaking his fist, “If you don’t show yourself soon—”
Instead of maniacal laughter, as he expected, he just heard crying. Elder Kettle twisted around, trying to make out the source of the noise. It was growing louder, and if he didn’t figure out who was doing it soon, he was going to end up ripping his own ears off.
Also, he was worried someone was upset enough to cry. But the more important matter was his ears.
“Hello?” He asked, his voice shaky. Elder Kettle then wondered if he’d gotten trapped in the snowstorm, which would explain his lack of vision. He wanted to believe it was true, since the alternative wasn’t a pleasant thought in the slightest.
As he neared the crying, a voice reached his ears. It was faint, and he had to strain his ears to hear, but it was unmistakable.
“Kettle, why?”
Elder Kettle paused, frustrated. He was here with no recollection, and someone had the audacity to accuse him? Maybe he’d consider apologizing if this coward showed themselves and told him why they were so upset with him.
Elder Kettle began his trek towards the voice, grumbling to himself, and he soon made out a figure. Like the voice, it was faint, but unmistakable once he saw it. Elder Kettle broke into a run, the urge to figure out the reason behind everything overpowering his cautious and suspicious nature. “Who are you?”
He jumped when the voice responded to him out of nowhere. “Your worst nightmare.”
He was standing in front of the figure. The quick pace of it almost made him dizzy. The worst part was, he recognized who it was, even though he didn’t want to believe it was true.
Rebecca Rose was in front of him, a malicious grin on her face. Someone had replaced her shiny white teeth with sharp, decaying ones, and her blonde hair was no longer wavy. It stuck out in straight clumps, as if she’d stuck her finger in an electrical socket.
“Did you miss me, Kettle?” She got closer, her voice laced with a venom he didn’t recognize.
Elder Kettle backed away, and in his haste he fell onto his bottom. He didn’t even care, since everything in his mind was screaming at him to run away as fast as possible.
However, one question escaped his mouth before he could stop it, “Why were you crying?”
Her grin turned into a glare. “Did you expect me to be happy you left me alone? You gallivanted to the army and didn’t ask me if I was okay with it. After everything we’d been through, I thought I at least deserved an explanation.”
“I wrote you so many letters!” He raised his hands in the air in frustration. “I gave you plenty of advanced warning.”
“And that somehow made it all right? I said nothing during the months you were gone. Why did you think I left? Did you expect me to stay there forever like your stupid goat?”
Elder Kettle was defensive, and he didn’t quite know why. “My goat’s not stupid!”
“Keep telling yourself that, Kettle. It was horrible being cooped up with no one to talk to. And despite how miserable I was, I still put your feelings over mine. I was always there when you needed me. So where were you?”
Rebecca was close enough to his face he could feel her breath. Elder Kettle closed his eyes, and he allowed himself to cry for once.
It was all too much. He knew Rebecca deserved better than him, had known the entire time they were together. He offered her as much support as he could, but it wasn’t enough. And despite everything, he wanted another day with her. Another day where he would lean close to her, and act annoyed when she made fun of his breath. In reality, he couldn’t care less, as long as he was around her, and they could plan their eventual trip outside the Inkwell Isles to see what the entire world offered. If he could just see her when she wasn’t so upset…
Wait. See her again.
None of this was real!
He remembered Rebecca yelling at him about not spending enough time with her, and she’d gone to the live showing of “Roll the Dice” alone. The townspeople told him the next day she’d won, but he never saw her again…
Yes, he’d made his fair share of mistakes, but she’d made just as many. He loved her, but she had no right to accuse him of neglectfulness.
“Rebecca, you’ll always be my first love.” Elder Kettle walked towards her. “I’ll always appreciate you and the time we had together. But you’re not here, and I think I’m asleep, so there’s no point in me being guilty. I need to stop living in the past and realize no matter how hard I try, you won’t be part of my life anymore. I can blame myself as much as I want, and you can blame me too, but circles don’t lead you anywhere. They just make you go back to where you started. Aren’t you tired of going in circles, too?”
Rebecca let out a horrible snarl and lunged towards him. As she did so, her form started shimmering, stretching, and changing altogether. Her dress and hair melted away to reveal the Devil’s black fur, protruding horns, flowing tail, and horrible grin.
“I think I quite like circles, Kettle!” The Devil’s eyes glowed a bright red, and he turned into his snake form. The Devil twisted around Elder Kettle and Elder Kettle could feel the air escaping him. He started pounding at the Devil’s sides as a fruitless attempt to save himself, to no avail.
Fire started burning around them, and he could feel them getting closer and hotter. The Devil made a horrible, bone-chilling screech he supposed was laughter.
“Where’s your army now?”
He found himself too afraid to glare. In fact, he was too afraid to take any action.
To add insult to injury, he could hear crying again.
Wait
a
minute
that
wasn’t—
~~~~~~~~
Elder Kettle woke with a strangled gasp, studying his hands to make sure he was in his bed, safe, and not in the Devil’s clutches. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of thoughts of the horrible nightmare he had.
There was no use dwelling. It had been his philosophy for his entire life, and never steered him wrong.
Elder Kettle then paused, realizing the crying he’d heard at the tail end of his nightmare was real. Dread seeped into his stomach, wondering if something terrible was about to happen.
No, he would be fine and forget about his nightmare.
He just had to attend to the crying, which was getting louder. He sighed, praying it wasn’t Sally Stageplay again, because if he had to listen to her complain one more time—
A loud knock accompanied the crying, demanding his attention. He was losing hope he’d ever get to relax by himself and decided it was just his luck. Perhaps he was kidding himself when he thought he’d ever get to have a pleasant moment with his thoughts. Even when he was alone, they continued to torment him, and he’d had enough. So, in the grand scheme of things, he figured he shouldn’t complain.
Elder Kettle crept to the door, taking his time and trying to be cautious.
Even if it was someone he knew, a terrible chill started permeating throughout his body, giving him an icy shiver in his spine. Perhaps it wasn’t Sally bothering him after all, for her presence never gave him an alien emotion such as this.
“Hello?”
As he half-expected, he got no response to his call. That just added to the bad feeling, and he began creeping slower towards the living room.
By the time he arrived near the door, he guessed the person had already gone. He wouldn’t have stayed this long if he were planning a robbery. There was a chance the person wasn’t like him, though. He shivered again and touched his golden doorknob, closing one eye as he eased the door ajar.
Elder Kettle hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he exhaled. He opened both his eyes again when he realized no one was waiting for him outside, as he expected. Elder Kettle wrapped his arms around himself, noticing the bitter wind of the snowstorm. He began cursing whoever had wasted his time under his breath, and turned around to go back to bed, deciding the crying had just been part of his imagination and his weariness from sleep.
However, before he left, he heard the crying again, and louder this time, demanding his full attention. He turned back around, confused. Did someone get their heart broken and decide he was the best person to turn to? While he admitted he would be quite empathetic towards their plight, he didn’t have the energy to help anyone at the moment. They’d leave worse off than they were before, and he didn’t want to deal with apologies.
He sighed, sweeping his gaze around his front lawn and garden again. If the crying didn’t stop—
He then looked down and jumped back in shock, clutching his chest.
The source of the nonstop tears was the last thing he would’ve expected. Laying on his doorstep was a brown wicker-basket he guessed someone wove by hand because of the handiwork. Within it were two small blankets, one red, one blue, and swaddled inside those blankets looking miserable were…
Two of the smallest, most wide-eyed, most innocent-looking baby cups he’d ever seen. In fact, he’d seen no cups around the Inkwell Isles, and he never would’ve guessed this is how he’d see some. He had the immediate, impulsive need to bring them inside to warm by the fire.
Sure, blankets covered them, but outside during a snowstorm was no place to be. During a time like this, it was hurting his heart to see such abandonment.
Against his better judgment, he grabbed the handle of the basket and brought the babies inside, being as careful as possible. Elder Kettle decided then the babies needed to stay the night. It was too late to locate their parents, and freezing. However, once the weather was clear enough, he’d give them a better home, because they deserved better than what he could provide.
Yes, he and Rebecca had talked about children, but he was pushing forty, and with his long stint in the army, he had no business raising children now. Elder Kettle would just make them stressed with his dramatic war stories, or be too rough with them. He’d always been alone before Rebecca, so he couldn’t accept having this much responsibility again. One long relationship investment was enough for him.
Elder Kettle shook his head, reminding himself of the task at hand. He brought the babies as close to his fireplace as he could without it being hazardous. They stared at him, eyes still wide, and continued crying with fervor. One solution was to hold them, and his face warmed at the thought. He knew he couldn’t do it without feeling awkward, but he couldn’t see any other option.
Elder Kettle hesitated and got ready to apologize if he did this wrong, even though they couldn’t understand him. He took a deep breath, psyching himself up, and scooped the babies into his arms.
He said the one comforting assurance he had, “Shh… it’ll be all right, little ones. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
While the crying didn’t cease altogether, it lessened, and he considered that a victory. They stared at him with shining eyes, and he look away to keep himself composed. It would be too soon if he found these children’s abandoners.
He was about to move closer to the fire when the red cup grabbed hold of his mustache, looking more curious than sad. The baby gave the smallest grin as he began playing with it, and despite the discomfort, Elder Kettle breathed a sigh of relief. Any reason for them to become calm was good enough for him.
However, the blue cup wasn’t as entranced by his mustache as the red cup was. The blue cup had a distressed look in his eyes as he collapsed on his side and stuck his thumb in his mouth, making steam billow out of his spout in worry. He had a sudden feeling he couldn’t explain to give some comfort to the young cup, and a seed of an idea was coming to him. As he got up, he had to remind himself this housing situation was temporary, and once he found out their parental situation, or lack thereof, they’d all be happier. A suitable distance was what he needed after everything, and he’d feel they’d be much happier with people who knew what they were doing. Elder Kettle was already feeling flustered, and he hadn’t even known them for ten minutes. He couldn’t imagine how he’d be after ten years of this.
He brought the cups upstairs as fast as he could and dug around for Rebecca’s old sewing kit. It took a lot of searching and cursing under his breath, but he located it in a small, forgotten corner of the hallway closet. Elder Kettle dragged it into an empty room, the cups continuing to hold on to him. The red one looked confused, as if he wanted to ask Elder Kettle about the kit.
He grasped the materials in his hands and began sewing with a lot of trial and error. Elder Kettle gained as many cuts on his fingers as he did actual stitches, but the final product satisfied him. It was a small, dark brown teddy bear with a red and green-checkered left side. The bear looked at Elder Kettle with one missing eye, since he couldn’t find a second one fast enough. He figured Porkrind could find him a new one the next day.
Elder Kettle was still hesitant about presenting the teddy bear to the baby, but the baby’s continuous forlorn looks gave him the push he needed.
The baby stared at the bear for awhile. He seemed less upset, which was Elder Kettle’s goal, but didn’t seem any happier, either. He was just locked in a dramatic staring contest with the toy, not daring to make a move.
“It’s for you.” Elder Kettle hoped the soft words would give the baby the encouragement he needed.
Sure enough, the baby reached forward and clutched the bear. He seemed possessive of it already, causing Elder Kettle to grin.
He reached forward and turned the key in the back, making the music begin playing. It filled the air, creating a sense of calmness and warmth Elder Kettle had almost forgotten. The baby was enthralled, and clapped his small, gloved hands together with much excitement.
The other baby, the older one, was already interested in the desk chair rather than the bear. But Elder Kettle believed his goal had been met, and he could sleep without anything weighing on him.
He paused, realizing nothing was weighing on him anymore. Even his usual thoughts about Rebecca weren’t bothering him as much.
These children had affected him more than he’d expected, just like her.
Just like her.
A sudden realization struck him. God, he was dense.
These children would work their way into their heart and nestle there, as Rebecca had. In fact, they were already beginning to do so. Then tragedy would strike again, whether that he them being taken or them leaving him like her. He’d be left alone again, waiting for the next person to repeat the cycle over again.
Was this how he was destined to carry out the rest of his life? Watching people care for him and caring about them, and then forced to let them go?
More years of heartbreak, more years of regret, more years of solitude… he couldn’t take it anymore. This was no life, or future.
He had to stop this.
The babies were left in the room for the night, and he went to bed. Lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, he tried to detach himself from these doorstep children. It wasn’t worth the pain, it wasn’t worth the trouble, it wasn’t…
He closed his eyes as the onslaught of tears began. Elder Kettle didn’t cry often, but when he did, it would go on for hours.
~~~~~~~~
~Cuphead’s POV~
Elder Kettle stopped the story, and Cuphead realized he was being stared at.
“What?” He wiped his face, trying to be discreet.
“Are you crying?” Elder Kettle asked, a sympathetic look on his face.
“No, I don’t—”
“It’s just… I never knew you felt that way!” Mugman interrupted, crying as well with his face buried deep in his hands. “I didn’t realize how difficult this was for you.”
Elder Kettle sighed, “This is why I waited until now to tell this story. I knew you’d react this way.”
He gave them a dramatic, hardened stare, “Cuphead, Mugman, listen. When I was younger, I thought I couldn’t trust anyone because I thought everyone I cared about would disappear. But that never happened with you two. I’ve been caught by surprise many times because you’ve grown up before my eyes, and you’re still with me. I’ll never forget that.”
Mugman cried harder at the sentiment. Cuphead walked over, and gave Elder Kettle a small side hug. He wasn’t used to affection between them like this, but it felt natural.
After a moment, Elder Kettle spoke again, “Is it okay if I continue?”
They nodded.
~~~~~~~~
~Elder Kettle’s POV~
He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until he woke up. Elder Kettle felt a weight on his chest, and wondered if another forest creature snuck into his house and wanted to play.
He didn’t have time for such nonsense, so he opened his eyes and—
Oh. Two blurry outlines, one red and one blue, greeted him, and laughter reached his ears. Elder Kettle blinked and reached for his glasses, and once he put them on, everything came rushing back.
It was the abandoned babies, and he narrowed his eyes at the reminder. The world had gifted him everything he’d ever wanted, and taken it away as if sweeping a rug from under his feet. It was ridiculous, and he wouldn’t be a participant anymore. Porkrind needed to prepare for a few unexpected visitors.
To his relief, it didn’t take as long as expected to get ready. Elder Kettle Opting to carry the babies in a basket, he opened the door and blinked from the unexpected sunlight. It had just snowed the day before, after all, so the bright day confused him.
Elder Kettle had too much of a mission to dwell on it long, though. He trudged through the melting snow, the babies getting quite fussy but not crying, and was soon able to spot the titular pig grumbling.
“Stupid teenagers.”
Porkrind was trying to clean some graffiti on his shop’s handmade sign. There were some remnants of eggs that were also clinging to the sign.
“How cliché,” Elder Kettle opted to say.
The shopkeeper turned around, surprised, “Kettle. What do you want?”
“I had some unexpected guests yesterday.” He lifted the basket, revealing the babies, and Porkrind stopped scrubbing his door.
He put his hands on his hips, giving Elder Kettle and the babies a once-over, “What’s the meaning of this?”
“I haven’t had anyone around for awhile, so I’m not equipped to handle raising children. It’s… complicated.” Elder Kettle looked at the ground, guilt rising within them without him knowing why. He thought he’d decided to detach himself, and here he went again, caring.
When would he ever stop caring? It was beyond maddening.
“I don’t raise children either,” Porkrind said, raising his eyebrows. “If you were thinking of—”
“No, no, no, I wasn’t thinking of handing them off to you. I was hoping you knew their parents. Then maybe I could find them and convince them to take their children back.”
“I run a business, I’m not a Genealogist.
If you won’t buy something, I suggest you scram.”
Elder Kettle sighed and turned around, kicking himself for rushing to Porkrind so fast. Why did he think the shopkeeper would know anything, or even want to help? This was an utter waste of time.
He began trudging away, when he heard Porkrind’s voice again, “Ahh, wait. If you care that much about the rugrats, then… I know a guy.”
Elder Kettle turned, surprised, “Porkrind, I—”
“Don’t get used to me helping you. But you give me a lot of business. If you go to the pier, not a long ways past the cinema, you’ll find Captain Brineybeard. He’s who we call the old Pill who lives on a gigantic, live ship he calls The Cala Maria. He’s been everywhere, so if anyone knows anything about their parents, it’s him.”
“Thank you.” Elder Kettle nodded, wanting to be polite.
“I said don’t get used to it.”
All of a sudden, the red cup leaned out from the basket. He began babbling, and soon enough seemed quite restless. The child was grabbing onto the side and rocking back and forth, sticking his tongue out. His brother didn’t hesitate long before doing the same thing.
“They do this all the time?” Porkrind asked, not looking amused.
Elder Kettle’s eyes widened. He realized he’d forgotten to give the babies food the entire time he’d known them. They must’ve been starving beyond belief!
“I might need to buy from you today after all.” He gave Porkrind a sheepish look, and the shopkeeper sighed.