Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stanley opened his eyes. He was sitting in his office chair, his computer in front of him as always. He stood up and exited his office.

He took a look around the communal office space and was not surprised to see it looking a lot more festive than usual. The Narrator had mentioned wanting to run some Christmas DLC ideas by Stanley. Asking for his opinion, for once, before just throwing him into a new situation.

Stanley couldn't complain.

He nodded approvingly at the decorations. The lights in the office were dimmed in a cozy sort of way, the primary source of lighting being warm white Christmas lights that lined the walls. Out the normally bright white window was a dark night sky and what looked to be snow falling. Knowing it was just an illusion, Stanley got the feeling of being in a snow globe.

Wrapped loosely around the pretty lights above the window and doors were sparkling strands of alternating red and green garland. Soft jazzy instrumental Christmas music was playing in the background.

Most noticeable to Stanley, though, was a little Christmas tree that sat in the far left corner. The glint off of one particular ornament caught his attention and he made his way over to the tree as the Narrator began.

“All of his coworkers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to head to the meeting room. Perhaps that was where this year’s Christmas party was being held.”

As he got closer to the tree he realized all the ornaments were of the same type and colors. Despite them all being the same, the one he had made his way over to was the one he grabbed lightly. It was a vibrant shiny purple with little sparkly wreaths of green glitter around its mid section. A line of that same glittery green above and below the wreaths. An odd color combo, Stanley would have thought, had he not remembered mentioning these colors being his favorites to the Narrator some time ago.

He couldn’t hide his smile.

“That certainly was not for you, Stanley. I’ll have you know- when you told me your favorite colours, that quickly became a little tidbit I filed away as unimportant. It had completely slipped my mind. Honestly. It really did. ...Why are you giving me that look? Stanley, I’m being serious right now. Need I take us to the serious room?”

Stanley continued to smile, he could tell that the Narrator was floundering and flustered as ever.

“F-Flustered!? I’m nothing of the sort! Now, if you don’t mind… let’s get a move on and get to Christmas-ing!”

Stanley left the room and continued on.

Walking through the next communal office, however, had put a bit of a damper on his festive mood. The decorations were nice and all but… the more he saw the office like this, the more it just reminded him of past Christmas parties he’d had here.

Well- not really. It wasn’t that simple, of course.

Any past parties here were just concepts the Narrator had written into him, into this place. Stanley was the one who would decorate when the time came- the house, the office. He was an absolute mess by the end of it but his love of all things sparkly and twinkly made every room he decorated it’s own warm little festive space.

Apparently.

He sighed. None of that meant anything, really. Nothing but dreams of what he should be, not who he was now. For all he knew, maybe he sucked at decorating. Maybe he couldn’t even wrap a present, couldn’t even write a simple Christmas card.

“No, no. You’ve always been terrible at present wrapping and writing Christmas cards, Stanley.”

He sighed again.

“Off you go now.”

The office worker continued on until he got to the two doors room.

“When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he took the door on his left.”

He did so. When he finally got to the meeting room it looked-

Well, the same as ever, but there were some lights strung up and there were Christmas snacks and such on the table sitting on the work papers. On the projector it looked like some Christmas movie was playing.

“Yet, there was not a single person there either. Feeling a wave of disbelief… and an odd chill in the air, Stanley decided to go up to his boss’ office hoping he might find an answer there.”

Stanley walked up to the usual door to exit the meeting room and do as the Narrator said, but…

“What the-”

The door was closed and locked.

“I can’t seem to open it. Also, it’s really a bit cold in here now, isn’t it, Stanley? Hmm...”

The office worker heard the usual shuffling of papers. This was the first time he’d ever done a practice run of an ending with the Narrator and, aside from a few little slip ups of letting Stanley’s teasing about the ornaments get to him, he was in top form today.

“Now wait a minute. Stanley do you hear that? It sounds like… Are those bells?”

Jingling bells sounded off from the other side of the door. Just as quickly the bells stopped and the door unlocked. There was a final distant few rings of the bells once more before all was silent. 

Interesting.

“Well, don’t look at me. Open the door, Stanley.”

He did so and it was cold. Very cold.

“Oh my goodness… Oh, uhm- Shocked at the sight before him, Stanley gazed in awe at the brilliant white snow that covered the ground. A little ways away he saw what looked to be a cabin, smoke rising from the chimney.”

The sky was dark blue and the snow crunched beneath his feet. This felt so… real. Maybe they could use more big change of pace endings like this, Stanley thought. He walked along in the icy cold, his arms wrapped around himself, though breathing in the chilly air felt nice.

He stopped when he got close enough to the cabin to read the red sign on the door.

“Stanley made his way through the snow and had finally arrived at the cabin. Hmm, oh that can’t be right. Santa’s Work Shop? This isn’t the North Pole.”

The office worker took in another icy cold breath. Fresh as peppermint, he thought. And he loved peppermint. He couldn’t believe he forgot to grab a candy cane.

“Stanley, I’m, uhm, not quite sure…” Some paper shuffling could be heard, “I’m not quite sure what’s going on here. Let me-”

Stanley put his hand on the door handle and turned it.

“Wait, wait, Stanley-”

And in the cabin was… the office. The same little communal office as always when he first exited his own.

“Hmm, okay, so… I thought that I would be able to come up with something there, during this little practice run of ours, but uhm… I suppose that didn’t quite work out.”

‘What?’ Stanley thought.

“Ugh, don’t make me say it.” He sighed. “I’ve got a bit of writers block, Stanley.”

‘Ah. It’s not a bad start though. I was at the edge of my seat.’ Despite the comically blank look on his face, he meant it.

“Well, let’s maybe begin again. Something different this time. I’ll try to think more quickly on my feet. Let’s see…” More paper shuffling filled the room. Then, “Oh. M-Maybe the time is right for this one,” he whispered to himself.

Stanley looked at the fake sky curiously and then everything went black.

…

Stanley opened his eyes. He was sitting in his office chair, his computer in front of him as always. He stood up and exited his office.

“Alright. Take two. This one will be a- uhm, a little bit different, perhaps.” He sounded nervous. How odd.

Regardless, Stanley made his way through the rooms and the dialogue until he got to the two doors room again. Once there, he paused, unsure. There was some strange little green leafy stuff with white little berries above the door on the left.

What the hell was that?

His memory of his own backstory was a little spotty in some places, to be honest. Especially when it came to specifics. He knew he was good at decorating but he couldn’t remember what was written to be his favorite Christmas song. He couldn’t remember what that one fruity little cake thing everyone always seemed to hate was called. He couldn’t remember what those little pointy eared guys that helped Santa Claus make the presents every year were called.

He couldn’t even remember… was Santa real? Was it that parents lied to kids about him being real or lied about him being fake?

Stanley held his head, this was too much. He looked back at the little leafy stuff. Maybe it was just some sort of special decoration. Some sort of ornament. Those berries made it look like food though. Well, people strung up popcorn sometimes for Christmas, he remembered that. But what was this little thing? It was right on the tip of his tongue but he just couldn’t remember what it was called or what exactly made it special.

All thoughts left his mind when he saw the Narrator walking up to the door from the other side of it. He was wearing a silly sweater vest with a bow-tie in the brightest reds and greens Stanley had ever seen. He had a red Santa coat, unbuttoned, over his silly festive outfit. The headphones with a mic that he always wore in this human form of his were also now bright red and green, with a Santa hat covering the top.

Oh that's… ugh, why did he look so cute? Dressed up for a holiday he probably knew very little about, other than what he’d read up on it to incorporate it into Stanley’s backstory.

And that oddly shy and anxious look on his face… that was the cutest thing of all. Stanley hated himself for the thought, not for the first time.

He walked up to the Narrator, his head tilted in question as he looked up at the pretty little leafy thing.

Oh, wait! The berries. Were these… cranberries? He could recall cranberry sauce. He thought that maybe he loved that stuff. Wasn’t it more reddish though?

He looked back at the Narrator and noticed that he was now blushing, his eyes looking shyly up at the leafy thing then peering back at the floor, unsure about something.

At that, Stanley finally put the pieces together. This was a gift and the Narrator was shy about giving it to him. His companion was twiddling and fiddling his fingers together and looking anywhere but at Stanley.

‘You’re so embarrassing.’ Stanley thought to the Narrator with a smirk, though he could feel the heat in his own cheeks and over the tips of his ears rising.

“Oh, shut up, Stanley.”

‘Looks pretty tasty.’ He licked his lips as he walked up to the Narrator, staring into the man's eyes for just a moment before glancing down at his lips.

“O-oh?” The Narrator was blushing much darker now.

Stanley silently chuckled as he leaned up, grabbed the cranberries, and shoved them into his mouth.

“That’s- !? What are you- !?” The Narrator sounded shocked.

Stanley knew he was probably making a face as he chewed these things down. These tasted fucking awful. But it was the first gift the Narrator had given him since the bucket. And this didn't even look to be a gameplay mechanic, so he knew if he didn’t receive it well then the man would probably not be giving him another gift like it again. So he had shoved all that leafy stuff into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed it all down as quickly as he could.

“S-Stanley, what the hell are you doing!?”

What was his problem? Stanley ate it. And it was already making his stomach ache. It was only a little bundle of cranberries, what the hell? Well, it was about a handful of them it looked like. The Narrator had gone all out on bunching them up and strangely tying them above the doorway. Weird way to give a gift, but then he knew his companion was a pretty weird guy.

But… Ah, maybe trying to down so much so fast wasn’t such a good idea. He grabbed his stomach. Slowly he fell to his knees, then fully fell to the floor. His vision became blurry, he felt so sick and his stomach, the pain was- ughhhh.

He blearily heard a little scoff and the Narrator saying, “Idiot.” before he passed out.

…

Stanley opened his eyes. He was sitting in his office chair, his computer in front of him as always. He stood up and exited his office.

Well, that was unpleasant. So much for the Narrator supposedly trying to be nice for Christmas. How was that ending “a little bit different”?

Stanley thought for a moment.

Something was still bothering him. Why did the Narrator sound so nervous about that new ending idea? And why did he also come down in person for that? To get a better view of Stanley being sick all over the floor? That didn’t sound right. And that little plant… it was special, but not in a bad way. He was sure of it.

“All of his coworkers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to head to the meeting room. Perhaps that was where this year’s Christmas party was being held.”

Oh good, he was getting another chance at hopefully finding out what the hell was up with the Narrator. He could swear he heard the man give a sad little sigh at the end of his dialogue there.

The jazzy piano instrumental Christmas music was still playing softly in the background. The current tune was familiar. Well, they all were, but there was something about this one.

Stanley shrugged and again made his way over to the little tree that had ornaments of his favorite colors. He grabbed one of the ornaments and smirked up at the ceiling, wanting to needle his companion yet again.

He got no response. He tilted his head curiously but didn’t push it. With another shrug Stanley made his way into the next set of offices, taking his time and noticing little decorations he hadn’t before. Little candle lights on the tables, the twinkling of the Christmas lights glow against the silvery garland that lay around each desk.

Hmm. Last time he got here the background music changed. This time, it seemed this one song was on loop. The lyrics he felt like were right on the tip of his tongue but just couldn’t remember.

As he walked down the hall past door 417 and into the next hall, he finally began recalling certain words to the song.

‘Down the stairs to have a peak… Hmm. Dammit, what was it?’ He put a hand to his chin and stood there in the dimmed hall. Warm white Christmas lights gave it a soft glow. The office felt so cozy like this. He hated to admit that he loved it.

‘Wrapped up in my bedroom fast asleep. I saw-’ His eyes widened.

Not one of his favorite Christmas songs but one he could now finally remember.

‘How stupid. I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus, underneath… the mistletoe… Oh my god.’

He smacked his hand to his head. Maybe a little harder than he intended to but it was well earned.

Idiot.

He remembered the Narrator calling him that. And the man was right. But, he wasn’t calling him that because Stanley fell into his “evil trap” or anything like that. It was because Stanley ate some fucking mistletoe, like an idiot.

Mistletoe, for kissing under.

And the Narrator had dressed in a Santa hat and jacket and now with the melody of that ridiculous song playing over and over again the whole thing hit Stanley like a bus. That would, in fact, be preferable to making such a dumbass of himself- getting hit by a bus.

He looked ahead of him. He was still standing in the hallway and the door at the end of it lead to the two doors room. He couldn’t see the mistletoe anymore. He hoped it just hadn’t popped in yet because he was too far away. He hoped it was some video game mechanics nonsense.

He walked forward and entered the two doors room.

It didn’t appear.

The Narrator was finally ready to stop screwing around and maybe... finally get to screwing around, but Stanley was too stupid to realize it in time.

The dumb Christmas tune, still on repeat, taunted him.

Well, fine. Time to just go jump off the cargo lift.

“So,” the Narrator walked into the two doors room, from the door on the left. “I suppose you understand your folly now.”

Stanley rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms, ‘You’re so annoying. Why didn’t you just tell me? You already know I’d jump you at the go-ahead. I’m sure you’ve read it in my thoughts before.’

“W-well, I,” his voice had nearly squeaked as he gave a little cough and tried to find his words, “I, uhm… even if the… feelings are, uhm, appear to be mutual… I thought that narratively we should have a good reason to-”

Stanley shook his head and grabbed the Narrator’s hand, it was cold, unsurprisingly. He had dragged the man around before by it, after all. In an attempt to share his warmth he held it tighter than usual as he walked him through the door on the right and down the hallway. The Narrator was stuttering and sputtering the whole way there.

Once they finally got to the lounge Stanley froze, his eyes wide.

The lounge looked even more beautiful than any other room he’d seen in the office so far. The lighting was dim save for the rainbow and warm yellow lights strung about where the wall met the ceiling. The room smelled like fresh coffee and sugar cookies, with a bit of peppermint.

A beautifully decorated Christmas tree sat where the vending machine once had. It had a gold glowing star on top and silver and gold garland in candy cane like swirls around its branches. It, much like the room, was covered in twinkling little Christmas lights, a soft rainbow of colors that reflected off of the purple and green ornaments. There were other colors of ornaments too, but the purple and green ones made up most of the tree, Stanley noticed.

He turned and looked at his companion. ‘So you decorated this route too?’

“You think I wouldn’t put in the effort for my story?” He sounded a bit offended.

‘What was the lounge dialogue gonna be?’

After a quick clearing of his throat, the Narrator began, “’Perhaps my friends are in the lounge, taking a break from the more raucous Christmas festivities that are surely going on in the meeting room!’ Stanley thought to himself. That is, until he remembered that he didn’t have any friends. ...Holding back his tears he continued on.”

Stanley rolled his eyes.

He did his best to not smile, to not laugh. The Narrator simply gave him a sheepish grin as the office worker shook his head in mock scolding.

“The door to the loading docks would be locked and the Confusion Ending would be locked as well. I can’t remake the entire game for one new Downloadable Content ending you know.”

‘Yeah, yeah. Anyway… back to the topic at hand.’ He grabbed the Narrator’s other hand, both in his own now. ‘Narratively speaking, I think us kissing at any point in the story makes sense, what with how much time we spend thinking about each other.’

He gave him a sly grin as he walked backwards a bit, dragging him over to sit on the couch.

“Many of those times are not in a positive light, Stanley. And just because we think a lot about each other doesn’t mean things have to take a romantic turn.” The Narrator sounded annoyed but his eyes had fallen to staring at the ground in a clearly troubled sort of way.

He continued quietly, as if to himself, “Oh, damn it all. I’ve grown much too attached to you. ...Ugh, the integrity of my story…”

The office worker knew it was about more than just that. But the implication that all of this seemed to have been something the Narrator thought a lot about spoke volumes to Stanley.

Was he really that hesitant, that unsure, about all of this? Was he really actually... worried?

Stanley let go of one of the Narrator’s hands. The man seemed to cringe at that, perhaps thinking he had said or done something wrong, when suddenly Stanley’s index finger was under his chin. He then lifted the Narrator’s chin until the two of them were making eye contact once more.

‘You don’t have anything to worry about.’

The Narrator looked at him curiously, but… trusting? Wanting to trust him, maybe.

And he was blushing and he looked so, so sweet. Stanley’s heart ached with how much he wanted to do something, anything. Hold him, kiss him, push him down against the couch and…

Stanley shook his head. Focus. First things first. Get him to chill out a little. He could feel the slight tremor in the Narrator’s grasp.

‘This is just one of like a million different endings. Besides that, it’s a practice run. Throw out what you don’t want. And keep what you like.’

The Narrator nodded, he seemed absolutely captivated by Stanley’s every word. Perhaps, just because of how close they were at the moment.

‘And... I’m no writer, but don’t they say it’s pretty normal for your characters to take the story into their own hands? Sometimes…’ He leaned in even closer, ‘Sometimes you can’t really fight it. Don’t really want to.’

Stanley’s heart was racing now. Their noses were near touching. Breath intermingling.

… Peppermint?

The Narrator gave yet another sheepish grin, “Ah, uhm, I was drinking peppermint tea a bit ago. ...For the occasion. F-for Christmas, of course. No other reason.”

Any nervousness on Stanley’s part about all of this completely slipped away at that. He held back a laugh, ‘Idiot.’

“I beg your pardon?” His ask was near a whisper as he looked from Stanley’s eyes to his lips.

‘Yeah, “for the occasion".’ Stanley rolled his eyes. ‘You wrote me,’ he pulled his companion by the chin a little closer yet again, their noses touching now, ‘you know how much I love peppermint.’

He tilted his head, then gently pressed their lips together. The Narrator made a cute little nervous but needy sound against him. The Narrator’s lips were soft and a little cold, like his hands, but not in a way that was unpleasant. Stanley felt the heat in his stomach rising as he thought of all the ways he wanted to keep all of this man warm from now on. His hands moved to cup the Narrator’s face.

A moment or two passed and he hated to break apart from the kiss so soon, but he had to. He needed to see his companion’s reaction. He held the man’s face back a bit to look him over.

The Narrator whined when they broke apart and slowly opened his eyes. The rainbow glow of Christmas lights blinking softly around them couldn’t hide his deep red blush.

Stanley was very pleased with this reaction. And he was certain his own face was just as red, as he could feel the light prickling of heat all over. He wanted to pull the Narrator back into another kiss so badly but… he still felt that needling itch, as he often did, to tease the man a little more.

‘Nothing is ever for me, huh?’ Stanley teased.

The Narrator looked almost as if he were intoxicated. Maybe by the kiss or the atmosphere. Maybe both.

“Hmm? What?” His voice was a little hoarse and Stanley loved the sound of it.

‘The ornaments, the peppermint. Not for me, right?’ He smiled, feeling himself breathing a little heavy still from the kiss, from his heart pounding.

With an annoyed scoff the Narrator said, “Everything is for you, you twit.” Then pulled the office worker back down into another kiss.

Stanley fell, with purpose, down on top of him, their lips locked. He’d never felt so warm in his life and he wanted nothing more than to share that warmth with his cold, cold narrator. He wondered if that tea had been enough to warm the man’s mouth and took the fact that it was peppermint to be an open invitation to finding out. With a few more gentle kisses he leaned into the man and used his own lips to part the other’s.

The Narrator moaned into their new position and pulled Stanley close. Stanley’s mind felt so hazy and he felt so good. Why had they not been doing this years ago? They were both so stupid.

Stanley suddenly froze.

It almost hurt to stop now, but there was something he had to know. He pulled apart from the Narrator, lifted his head and thought, ‘W-wait. There’s something I need to ask you.’

“Oh, for godsake, Stanley, please.” The Narrator pulled him back down and roughly said, “Ask me while we kiss.” Then he pushed their open mouths together once more.

Stanley tried to think. ‘I-I can... hardly-,’ It was a challenge to concentrate on any thoughts that weren’t this though.

Thoughts of how he could feel the Narrator’s cold hands warming up slightly as they brushed through Stanley’s hair in gentle rhythmic strokes. It was so soothing.

And his mouth- the peppermint- if Stanley had had another favorite flavor before, it was long gone from his mind now. He only wanted peppermint, laced with whatever tea it was that the Narrator usually drank that still rested on his tongue. That sugar cookie scent that filled the lounge- he’d been eating some of those with his tea too it seemed.

Stanley’s mind felt like a blur. Thinking was so hard.

He pulled himself together, though, for a moment at least. ‘I can hardly focus. Like… like this. ...P-please. Gimme just… a minute.’

The Narrator groaned as he slowly pulled back from him. “Fine. Alright, what-what is it?” His voice was very hoarse now and he sounded completely out of breath and as obnoxious as ever.

Every word the man spoke made Stanley feel… so much. Again he could barely focus. His heart ached at parting from such an intimate moment with his Narrator for even a second, but-

But despite it all, he trudged through the fuzzy haze in his mind and through shaky breath finally thought, ‘Is… is Santa real?’

The Narrator was silent.

A full minute must have past before he finally said, “What.”

‘I can’t remember and it’s been bugging the hell out of me all day. I need to know. Just tell me real quick so we can get back to making out.’

The Narrator blinked in disbelief.

Another full minute must have passed before he finally spoke again. “I… have never wanted to kill you more than in this moment.”

‘If I didn’t ask right now I’d forget!’

“Stanley. I am not human. How the bloody hell would I know?”

‘Oh. Good point.’

The Narrator put a hand to his head, he looked so done. “The only things I know about this holiday are what I’ve read up on it. And from what little I’ve read, I would say no. But then, our entire situation and existence has put many things about ‘real life’ into question, hasn’t it?” He sighed.

Stanley thought about it for a moment.

And then he didn’t care! Asked and answered! Who fucking knows!

He fell back onto the man beneath him and aimed to make the rest of their night so warm and passionate that his companion would hopefully forget the many stupid things he had done in these festive run-throughs!

The Narrator pulled back from the kiss, for only a moment, to say, “Not likely. Please, do try though.” Then slotted his lips back where they belonged, against his ever so annoying silent protagonist.

And there was not another interruption between them. Not even a reset.

Chapter Text

Stanley opened his eyes. He was sitting in his office chair, his computer in front of him as always. He stood up and exited his office.

Taking a look around the communal office space he was not surprised to see it looking a lot more romantic than usual. The Narrator had mentioned wanting to run some Valentine’s Day DLC ideas by Stanley. Asking for his opinion, for once, before just throwing him into a new situation.

Stanley couldn't complain.

Though, starting with Valentine’s Day was an odd choice, he thought. Why not something bigger like Christmas?

Either way, he shook his head at the decorations. Romantic definitely wasn’t the right word for what this was.

Pink and red paper hearts were scattered across the floor and gaudy pink garland was strung up on every wall, glittering in the glow of fairy lights- fairy lights that were a bit pointless when the main office lights were hardly dimmed. Looking out the usually bright white window he could see a dark night sky with a sprinkle of stars. Smooth jazz played softly in the background.

Well, the jazz and the stars were romantic, but most of this felt a little ‘Kindergarten Valentine’s Day’. He crossed his arms, unimpressed. The Narrator must not of heard the thought though, since he began his usual spiel.

“All of his coworkers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided- ...he froze. There appeared to be a pink post-it note on the divider wall before him. ‘Oh? What on earth could that note be?’ Stanley thought to himself as he approached it.”

And he did.

However, before he could begin reading it to himself the Narrator started, “’If work is slow, maybe you can sneak out for lunch with me. Signed, Your Wife.’ Well now, Stanley just about jumped out the door at the idea!”

Stanley had no such reaction.

He tiredly walked through the first communal office space and into the next. It was decorated much the same as the last. The most noticeable difference, however, was that instead of the bucket, sitting where it usually did, was another note.

“’Can’t wait to see you soon, darling. I know you won’t be late. The very thought of spending time with you makes my heart beat faster.’”

It was strange, Stanley thought as he continued on, that the Narrator wasn’t even trying at a character voice for these. He was just using his usual voice. It didn’t make any sense but-

Stanley stopped, he had already found himself in the two doors room. Another note was posted between the doors.

“’Take the door on the right this time, my dear.’”

The Right? Well that was certainly different.

Also, why was it that the first note was the only one that was ‘signed’ by his ‘wife’? Maybe the Narrator had gotten a little lazy with these other notes? Hell, he had a ‘Stanley’s Wife’ voice all ready to go that he had used for the Apartment Ending and miscellaneous phone messages that he could have just used for all of this.

The Narrator was so ridiculous.

This all would have made Stanley laugh, he would have pointed it out and made fun, but it was taking everything in him right now to not start blushing every goddamn time the Narrator spoke so softly to him, calling him some cute little pet name or another.

He shook off the feeling- tried to, as he walked into the lounge.

Now this was romantic.

Softly glowing fairy lights and a few candles, here and there, were now the only sources of light. Pink and red rose petals had replaced the childish paper hearts on the floor. He wondered if it was the petals that lent a warm rosy scent to the room.

“Ahh, the lounge. The perfect place for laze-abouts to laze about. But Stanley was no simple laze-about, not today at least. Today he was on a mission! A mission of the heart.”

Stanley made his way to the door at the other end of the room, then-

“Ah, ah! You missed a note, love.”

He froze. The Narrator was not reading a post-it note for that little line just then. Stanley could feel the tips of his ears prickling with heat along with the rest of his face.

How stupid.

After all, calling someone love was just a thing British people did sometimes, right? It didn’t have to mean anything. Well, it wouldn't, if the Narrator had ever done so before. In the past the man had tossed out a “sport”, a “cowboy”, a “Jim”, but he never called Stanley “love” before.

The Narrator wasn’t even British! So far as Stanley knew the Narrator was some sort of entity that just happened to have, or chose, that accent and voice. If it was chosen... Stanley could hardly believe it. Who chooses to be British?

Although, as much as the man’s voice annoyed him at times, the office worker was also unfortunately very smitten with the sound of it.

“Stanley, be a dear and back up a few paces if you don’t mind.”

He took a quick moment to gather his thoughts, praying that the Narrator was so wrapped up in this new ending’s practice run that he couldn’t hear most of them. Then he took a few steps back and looked around.

He really couldn’t see it.

The Narrator gave a quiet but warm chuckle, “You really can’t see it? Too caught up in the romantic atmosphere, I assume?”

God, why was he speaking so…

Hang on. Was that it? Was the Narrator the one who was caught up in the atmosphere? So much so that he began using these pet names sincerely and speaking in such an uncharacteristically gentle tone?

“Stanley,” the voice was suddenly grumpy, demanding, “the pillar. Look up you dolt.”

There was that good old classic Narrator charm. And there was that fluttery feeling in Stanley’s heart again.

He was torn now between wanting to stay put to rile the man up more, as he usually would, or following directions to see where this new ending would take him. Given how he still felt even after being derided, it seemed that no matter what tone the Narrator took with him, these stupid amorous feelings this ending was bringing out, not for the first time, would worsen either way. Upsetting but again not surprising.

With a sigh, he backed up a bit more, looked a little above eye level, and there on the pillar in the middle of the room was the next pink sticky note.

The Narrator read it, “’I can’t wait to feel your warm and welcoming embrace, my dear. I want to feel you against me. You’ll hold me tightly… won’t you, Stanley?’”

Stanley, without thinking, nodded. He felt so very warm and his mind so fuzzy. He looked up from the note and nodded more vigorously at the ceiling, at the Narrator. It took him nearly a full minute to remember that these were supposed to be notes from his ‘wife’.

“Stanley stood there for a moment in buzzing anticipation. He gathered himself, then made his way to the warehouse.”

He certainly tried to gather himself. He took in a deep breath, tried to clear his mind, then thought, ‘Narrator, won't uhh…. won’t some of this raise the rating of the game a little?’

“Why, Stanley, whatever do you mean?”

That sounded awfully... teasing?

“I haven’t- I mean- your wife hasn’t said anything too risque, I don’t think. And this is all just Valentine’s day fun! Your wife is even more of a fictional character than you, none of this means anything! This is the sort of humor that, while it easily goes over your head, the Players absolutely love!”

That whole spiel sounded so… hmm. Well, there was something about it but Stanley couldn’t figure it out. What the hell was the Narrator up to?

Well, whatever! If this was just a practice run then why couldn’t two could play at this weird little game?

‘You know, I think I can see what you mean, Narry. Thanks for explaining, sweetheart.’ He gave the ceiling a wink.

There was a bit of sputtering, then, “Ahem! Let’s just get back on track, shall we?” then a moment of quiet before his tone went dark, threatening, “And we will stay on track. Won’t we, my beloved?”

Needless to say, the way he said that made Stanley feel… well, it was needless to say!

Stanley was definitely not doing fine right now. He gave the ceiling an angry glare and walked forward-

…directly into the pillar before him.

Light laughter filled the room as he rubbed his now aching nose. But even walking into a wall didn’t deter the stupid feelings boiling up inside of him.

He’d gotten all hot and bothered by the Narrator before, but he was pretty sure all those other times that that hadn't been the other man’s intention. Especially since, whenever Stanley did flirt and tease back, the Narrator would retort with nothing more than some shocked stuttering and urging Stanley to continue on.

If this was the Narrator’s revenge for all that flirty teasing then he was… not doing a bad job of it.

The man in question gave a gentle hum, “Stanley?”

The office worker gave his best suave smile and thought, ‘Sorry, am I going too slow? Want me to go faster, babe?’

Screw all of that introspective crap! Who cared about actual feelings when this was clearly about to become a battle. And if this was a battle, Stanley felt it was his turn to win one. And if the small stutter start-stop of whatever the Narrator wanted to respond with just now was any indication, he’d say he was currently in the lead.

“Hmph! J-Just get going.”

The Narrator remained quiet until Stanley made it to the warehouse.

“Stanley was so good at following directions when it really counted.”

The snark was heavy but the praise and the delivery of it was still so… Hell, even the snark made it bett- WORSE... it, uhh, it made it worse. Stanley shook the thoughts away.

Damn that Narrator, he knew just how to taunt him. But, to be honest, the thought of the Narrator being intentional, in any way, about all of this made Stanley feel a little lightheaded.

Regardless, he thought, ‘Hmm, I’m sorry, hun, but these lines are not your best work.’

The Narrator gave a little grumble at that. “I beg your pardon, my love?”

Stanley knew his companion well and one thing that would always stop him in his tracks was one of the sensitive writer’s worst nightmares: Critique.

Now, Stanley didn’t often employ this method, but he only knew of two ways to get at the Narrator (aside from not getting the Freedom Ending): praise to fluster or critique to piss off. Meanwhile, the man knew so very many ways to get at Stanley, he literally wrote him after all. And that just didn’t seem fair! It was his right to even the odds a bit right now since the Narrator seemed to be winning once more.

‘Honestly, I don’t think you’re really cut out for writing romance. You’re barely cut out for writing at all.’

There was a little offended gasp. Then a warning, “Stanley.”

Alright, alright.

One more though, ‘Come on, I know you can do better than this.”

“Oh, blast you!”

‘What are we in preschool? That’s the best “curse” you’ve got?’

“No you know what, we’re not on air, I can say what I please! How about fuck you!”

‘I bet you’d like that.’

“Stanley.”

‘Jeez, you’re always so hard on me.’

What sounded like hands slamming on a desk surrounded him, then the Narrator snarled, “I’m hard on you because you like it!”

...

“Uhm.”

...

“Ahem! I-I don’t… I don’t quite know what came over me there. I do apologize for ‘losing it’ a little just then and, uhm, anyway! Please continue on.”

‘Ohhhhh-kay.’ Stanley nodded, his face burning bright red. But if that weirdo could try and play that off as nothing then so could he.

He could. He was fine.

Stanley walked up to the platform that would bring him to the Apartment Ending, assuming that was where this all was leading.

He hesitated, swaying his hands a little as he suddenly wondered- would it feel more rewarding to keep up this… little battle or should he… raise the stakes?

“Stanley, we have come so far, If you even think about-”

He had no plans to jump off the ledge, but there was another way he could disobey the Narrator and still keep going for a little bit at least. And… well, that last passionate reprimand, for lack of a better term, from the Narrator was brought on by pissing him off. So if Stanley wanted to hear more of that- which he hated to admit it but he really really did... then-

He stepped onto the platform then quickly back off of it, watching as the lift slowly made it’s way across the large warehouse, alone in it’s journey.

He then realized he could have just taken the lift and jumped off at the right time to get the Games Ending instead of the only option left to him now being to take a fall, but oh well.

For a little while the only sounds in the building were the creaking of the lift and the far off hum of fluorescent lights.

The office worker stood there, his nails digging into his palms and swaying them a bit. Waiting in some strange mixture of anticipation, fear, and something else that he wouldn’t even dare to put a word to right now. Not when the Narrator was so quiet. Not when the Narrator was possibly listening to his thoughts.

Why wasn’t he talking though? It felt like minutes were turning to hours as Stanley waited. And waited. And-

“Hmm,” a soft hum filled the room. Another quiet moment passed, then the Narrator finally began, “Stanley had decided that… he didn’t really want to see his wife after all.”

The lights in the warehouse suddenly dimmed. The garages in the lower area rumbled as they began closing off, as did the windows.

“Stanley didn’t want to see anything,” the Narrator said darkly as shadows engulfed the entirety of the warehouse.

In his final moments Stanley’s last thoughts were: ‘Huh, this is sorta giving some Countdown Ending vibes,’ and ‘What the hell is that creaking sound?’

Then, the walls of the building crunched inwards like an empty soda can being shown no mercy.

Everything went pitch black.

“Unfortunately,” the Narrator brightly began, “if Stanley had gone to lunch with his wife, he would not have been here when the office suddenly, and unexpectedly, caved in on itself! What a sad tragedy, that absolutely could have been avoided, this was! Ah well, que sera sera!”

…

Stanley opened his eyes. He was sitting in his office chair, his computer in front of him as always.

He sighed as he put an elbow on the desk and rested his head in his hand, staring at the frown of the vague reflection of himself in the computer monitor.

Well, the feelings hadn’t faded with the reset. Certain feelings had calmed a bit, sure, but not the main one. And really, why would it now? Since the moment this stupid deep sort of fondness had made itself known, no reset ever seemed to erase it.

Fondness? No, it was more, so much more. Stanley hardly wanted to say it to himself but he knew for a while now. And it was so upsetting. Stanley was in love with that whiny, short-tempered, bossy, overly dramatic… funny, dorky, stupid Narrator! For as much as he used to hate him he was doubly so in love with him.

Awful.

He stood up and exited his office.

The Valentines décor was the same as it was in the first run-through. The little pink sticky note still in place and all. He walked up to it.

“Hmm,” the Narrator hummed, “round two, I suppose.”

Stanley crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling. He tried to give his best glare. He was pretty sure it fell flat when he heard the Narrator give a warm little chuckle- which absolutely did not make office worker’s heart melt or anything like that. Not at all.

“All of his coworkers were gone. Yada yada yada. Pink post-it note, etcetera etcetera. ‘Signed, Your Wife.’ Annnd off we go!”

And off Stanley went.

‘So, did I really piss you off that much last time?’ he wondered nonchalantly.

“Oh, no no! You thought it yourself, Stanley. It was sort of like the Countdown Ending! I quite enjoyed watching your demise,” he said happily.

Stanley fought the smile that threatened his lips, ‘You’re such an asshole.’

“You brought that upon yourself, Stanley.”

The office worker walked up to the next note and as the Narrator started reading, he thought to himself about all of this.

He couldn’t remember when he had started having those amorous sorts of feelings for the Narrator- that strange fluster filled want. But really, if it had all stopped there then that would be one thing but, unfortunately, he didn’t only want the Narrator like that. Of course he was fully in love with him, of course. That was just his luck. Even worse was that this all started sometime during or after Ultra Deluxe, before the Narrator had started using a human form every now and then. 

So technically, he fell in love with a voice. And the extremely strange but somehow alluring personality of said voice.

For whatever reason, he found that love was so much more embarrassing to admit than just lust. He hated the thought of admitting that sometimes he just... wanted to hold the Narrator’s hand. Wanted to kiss him softly on his stupid face whenever he was doing some dumb heard-it-a-million-times Ending spiel or telling another awful bucket pun. Worst of all, though, was that sometimes Stanley wanted to sit on the couch in the lounge and… just listen to the Narrator talk. He hated how enjoyable it could be to just sit there listening to the man ramble about things that excited him- his story ideas, the mechanics of the game, the myriad of tropes and clichés he tried to emulate and tried to avoid.

Most of the time Stanley just wanted the man to shut up. But other times, more and more lately, he found, he really could sit there and listen to him talk about anything for any length of time.

And that, he felt, was so painfully embarrassing.

“Stanley?”

His eyes widened.

“Oh don’t give me that look. I didn’t hear a thing you were thinking, I just finished reading the note, not to mention adding some very important side commentary. Were you ‘spacing out’? And during this very, very important dialogue no less. Tsk, tsk.”

‘You really didn’t hear my thoughts just then?’

“Hmm, were you perhaps thinking about me?”

Stanley’s eyes widened, cheeks blazing with heat. ‘Dammit you liar!’

“Wait, you were?”

Stanley covered his face.

“I really hadn’t been listening,” he was holding back a laugh now, “You truly are too predictable, Stanley.”

‘Wow, you couldn’t tell that I was joking? I really wasn’t thinking about you. Don’t flatter yourself.’

Ignoring any light chuckles from the ceiling he continued on down the hall and into the two doors room, keeping his mind as clear as he could the whole way there.

“’Take the door on the right this time, my dear.’” The Narrator said it almost a little too sweetly now.

It kind of pissed Stanley off but at the same time he couldn’t stop thinking about how he absolutely wasn’t ready to hear the next note again.

No, you know what, fine, fuck it, whatever!

He took a breath, straightened his posture, then walked through the door, into the hall, then into the lounge. And finally up to the pillar again.

The Narrator began in a bored mumble, “Warm embrace, hold me tightly and all of that rubbish etcetera etcetera.”

‘...What?’

“Off you go, Stanley. We already did this part, let’s not get into another competition.”

Stanley may not have been the brightest tool in the shed or whatever the phrase was, but he could hear the slight nervousness in his companion’s tone right then. The Narrator wasn’t afraid of the competition… he was afraid he was going to loose his composure again, wasn’t he?

“I’m not even going to dignify such a ridiculous thought with a response. I will read what notes are left and you will stand there and listen to them.”

Stanley just shrugged. He didn't really have a response so he exited the lounge, made his way to the warehouse and got on the lift this time.

Fine, let’s see where this all leads.

“Stanley made his way through the warehouse. Soon he would see his true love again.”

With a quick halt, the lift stopped and Stanley walked up to the door at the end of the way. Another post-it note was attached to the wall beside it.

The Narrator sighed, then quietly began reading, “’It feels like we haven’t gotten to simply sit and talk together in a little while, Stanley. There are… some things I would like to speak with you about.’”

That little pause certainly wasn’t there in the note. And again, the Narrator gave it his own voice, didn’t attempt to sound like Stanley’s ‘wife’. But that was the end of the note.

The office worker continued on until he made it to the room with the phone. The usual light shone upon it. Strangely, though, the phone didn’t ring. There was just another pink post-it note on it.

“’Stanley, there’s something important that I’ve always wanted to tell you, ...m-my dear. Something I’m not quite sure how to say.’”

The “my dear” was spoken as if the Narrator had forgotten it was even written on the note and had to inject it back in at the last moment.

Stanley tried to not think too much about it. He simply picked up the phone and everything went dark.

Light again, and a door appeared a little ways away. It was the door to the Bucket Apartment Ending apartment. He walked up to it and on the door, was another pink post-it. A hell of a lot of words were scribbled on this one.

“’You drive me insane, you know that? Sometimes I really can’t stand you. But, I-’” the Narrator paused for a moment and what once was snark now sounded something like shyness, “’I care about you very much.’”

“Oh, you know how I- uhm, your wife that is- feel about you, Stanley. Shouldn’t even need to be said. Don’t know why I’m...” Narrator sighed.

The last bit, that anxiety ridden portion, had not been on the note.

The rest, however was.

“‘I… love you, very deeply. And no matter what I say or do, in the end… I just want you to be happy, my love. ...And it took me so very long to realize it but…  I do… need you, Stanley.’”

The office worker’s face was tingling with heat. Why was the Narrator reading this so sincerely? Even adding in things not on the note. To make it seem more- real?

This was either a confession from the heart hidden under the ruse of a funny wife ending, or it was one of the cruelest jokes the Narrator had ever played on him. Or maybe it was some other third thing but Stanley couldn’t think of what else it could possibly be.

“Stanley walked into his apartment and made his way to the bedroom. The one writing these notes- he knew who his true love was.”

He could feel his heart speeding up, his thoughts racing. He let his feet guide him as he walked into the apartment.

Opening the bedroom door, he was surprised to find it looked even more romantic than it had in the Bucket Apartment Ending.

Same as the lounge it was lit with fairy lights and a few candles on the side table. Petals were scattered about the floor and the scent in the air was rosy and so nice. The bed even looked more plush and comfortable than it had before. The graphics were even better this time around, he could see the texture of fabric on the blanket and pillows.

All together, the room was warm and cozy and Stanley felt himself wanting to fall onto the bed and rest as he waited for his Narrator follow him in and...

Well, he would feel that way, if he hadn’t seen the bucket on a pedestal in front of the bed to his right, and the mannequin wife standing to the left.

What in the fuck?

“Ohhh, the ultimate choice!” The Narrator started excitedly.

Choice?

This is… Stanley wanted to rip his hair out. He could see it- he could understand how this would be funny to the Player, but to him right now… Not to mention those last few notes!?

He glared at the ceiling.

How could anyone think this all would lead to some stupid ‘is it the bucket or the mannequin wife who Stanley loves’ joke? Seriously??? This didn’t even make any fucking sense!

“Stanley, most of our endings don’t make any sense,” the Narrator grouchily chimed in.

The office worker just continued to glare at the ceiling, arms crossed. He was done for the day. Absolutely done.

“Now, Stanley, you do realize all of that nonsense between you and I in the first run-through was just- just nonsense. Funny, fun nonsense!”

He didn’t sound even vaguely convincing.

“Okay, so we may have- m-maybe gotten a little tinsy bit carried away there. And then those last notes... well, those were to simply build up the suspense of romance and-”

Stanley was still staring at the ceiling, unfazed.

“Well, what I mean is…” he sighed and finally gave up, “Oh, alright. I must admit, none of that was according to my initial plan, but once it got started I found myself… curious.”

‘Curious?’

“I wanted to know how you’d react to it if it sounded more like that mushy sort of nonsense was coming from me. If I, perhaps, got a bit flirty with you, as you do with me at times. And you- you certainly reacted.”

How I’d react? Like this was all nothing more than some sort of experiment?

“What, no, no! Nothing of the sort, Stanley!”

‘Nah, I know.’

“You-You do?”

‘You couldn’t have been faking all of that emotion, I figure. You don’t really have that good of a handle on your emotions in the first place.’

“Hmph!”

‘And I dunno, but I feel like after all this time I can tell when you’re being sincere or not. It’s just that the wording of this little confession just now kinda sucked. You did better with the notes.’

“C-confession!? I- uhm, I suppose I’d rather this all sound more scientific than so... emotional. But yes, I simply wanted to know if you’d react positively to me purposefully being… uhm, suggestive because I... Well, those last few notes said it best. I can admit that I very much meant them.”

The Narrator sighed, “Oh, I know you’ve felt these fluttery romance things before as well, seemingly at myself, but that could simply be you feeling all of that and having no one to really aim them towards. Aside from me.”

Stanley put a hand to his head, he felt a headache coming on.

‘Narrator, you aren’t some kinda last resort for me. I coulda just aimed those thoughts at my imagined wife, couldn’t I? I coulda just fantasized about kissing and holding her.’

“Well-”

‘I could have felt romantically towards the bucket!’ he then smirked, ‘Again.’

“Stanley.”

‘There’s Mariella and that Curator lady! Even that computer in the Epilogue! I’ve heard plenty of voices in here!’

“You what.”

‘But yours is unfortunately my favorite. Like, sure, its mostly just me an you here, but I really don’t have to feel that way towards you because I “have no one else”. I feel like that around you... just because…’

He took a moment and sighed as he ruffled his own hair out of frustration. Having to sincerely talk about feelings was kind of a drag when you normally- well, didn’t do that.

He shook his head as he stared at the ground, ‘You just... make me feel that way sometimes. Not anyone else. Just you.’

“Stanley, I-” the Narrator sounded on the verge of tears.

The office worker looked back up at the ceiling, ‘Just the whiny, annoying, dork that tries to boss me around all day every day.’

“Don’t get snarky so I can’t be emotional, Stanley!”

‘Narrator, please don’t get all mushy on me, I can’t take this anymore! If you really wanna see how you make me feel then just get down here.’

He heard the faint squeak of a chair and all was silent.

Stanley smiled, then frowned as he looked back down from the ceiling to the ‘funny ha-ha joke Ending’ that sat before him. He picked up the mannequin and walked it out to the living room, then he did the same for the bucket and the pedestal it sat on.

‘Sorry but neither of you is getting the rose to be America’s next top bachelor. ...Or something like that.’

He gave the bucket a little pat as he set it in place then contemplated giving it a little kiss. But if the Narrator wasn’t there to see and get jealous then where’s the fun in that? The dumb part of his brain did think that he still should anyway, because the bucket deserved a little goodbye my old love smooch.

Instead he shook his head and, with an apologetic look at his beloved bucket, returned to his bedroom, softly shutting the door behind him.

With a sigh he sat on the bed. It was so comfy, he could just lay back and drift off to sleep right now, and he would if he wasn’t now truly buzzing with anticipation.

It was only a minute or two that passed before the door opened then closed just as soon.

Stanley stood up, with a smile that he couldn’t even attempt to hide. The Narrator marched right up to him with a huffy sort of look- eyes squinting, hands on his hips.

The moment the Narrator opened his mouth, though, Stanley lifted his right hand and placed it on the man’s cheek. He hated that the Narrator flinched at first, but once the contact was made the man nearly melted at the touch, resting his stance a bit.

The office worker was happy but still couldn’t help but think, ‘Did… did you really expect me to hit you or something just then?’

Stanley was not a physically violent person, neither was the Narrator really. Mind games and video game deaths were more their specialty and for whatever reason that was just different as far as Stanley was concerned.

“I didn’t know what to expect. You’ve, uhm,” the Narrator looked a little nervous, “you’ve never put your hand on my face before,” his voice then lowered to a mere whisper, “no one has.”

He was quiet for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of Stanley holding him in such a way.

Then he spoke up again, “Well, I mean, of course no one has. I’ve never been human before. Not until all of this Parable nonsense anyway. Even then, it was quite some time after Ultra Deluxe that this idea came to be, right, Stanley? And how long after that until-”

The office worker moved his hand a bit in a gentle caressing motion, trying to calm his companion’s nervous rambling. It worked a little too well as the man shut his mouth immediately and leaned into the touch.

‘Do you like it?’

The Narrator gave a little wobbly high pitched hum in question.

It took everything in Stanley to not make fun of him for it, but at the same time he loved every strange little hum and squeak this man made.

The office worker moved his thumb up to rub soothing circles over his companion’s upper cheekbone. ‘This sort of touch. Do you like it?’

The Narrator nodded as he closed his eyes.

‘If you’re good I might do it again some time.’

His companion’s blush deepened.

If Stanley was feeling amorous before, he didn’t even know how to describe what he was feeling now. His mind felt so fuzzy, his skin prickling with heat. Stanley wanted to hold him, to kiss him, he wanted all of him so badly.

But he had to keep his cool.

After all the fuss the Narrator had caused him with his voice and words alone earlier, and so many times before, Stanley finally felt like he had the sort of upper hand he really wanted.

With that in mind, he moved back for a moment- to the tune of a needy whine from the Narrator, then gently took the man’s headphones off and placed them on the bedside table.

The action had ruffled the man’s hair a bit though so Stanley gently brushed it back in place. His finger’s gliding over the Narrator's ears a few times after.

“A-ah, oh…” the Narrator lightly grasped the bottom of Stanley’s right arm, as if he were worried he would stop or let go of him.

Stanley did neither. He simply continued softly warming up the tips of the man’s ears for a bit before letting his left hand drop, his right going back to brushing through his companion's hair, gently, slowly.

‘You did a pretty good job of making the lounge look romantic, ya know. This room too.’

“Well,” the Narrator mumbled, trying to keep his composure and failing so miserably, “I mean, Valentine’s day and all that.”

‘I don’t really think this DLC is gonna go through,’ he continued brushing through the man's hair. It was so sleek and smooth, so soft as he curled his fingers into it.

“Don't be silly,” the Narrator sighed, his eyes still closed, “I’ll work shop the Downloadable Content later. For now though,” his voice was nearly a whisper, “this one isn’t for the audience.”

Stanley nodded, more to himself.

“I think you and I ought to be a little selfish every now and then. This is just for us.”

‘That’s pretty much how things always are when the game is off anyways, isn’t it?’

Stanley wanted to laugh but seeing the Narrator quietly nod again with that blissful look on his face, stopped him. He was quite sure that the Narrator was so lost on cloud nine right now that there was really no coming back.

Stanley needed him back though.

He stopped brushing the man’s hair and settled his hand on his cheek once more, holding the Narrator’s face still.

The man in question slowly opened his eyes, looking curious and a little sad at the loss of motion.

Stanley lifted his left hand and began lightly rubbing his thumb over the Narrator’s bottom lip, feeling the soft inhale and exhale of a small shaky gasp against it.

‘Lips are a little dry, a little cold.’

The Narrator looked as if he were barely able to focus now that both of Stanley’s hands were on him.

Keeping the Narrator in place with his right hand, Stanley pulled his left back and gave a lick to his thumb- quickly bringing it once more against the Narrator’s bottom lip, tracing along to the top.

The Narrator’s eyes were wide, he froze as a small whimper escaped his lips. His face was fully flush, a beautiful shade of deep red that warmed his normally cool to the touch skin.

The office worker could feel the heat in his own face warming up as well. And god, that tingly feeling in his stomach was such an intense spark of something.

He needed to kiss this man now.

No more games or implications. No more teasing and taunting. Maybe later, maybe a lot, but right now... he was indeed on a mission of the heart.

‘So can I kiss you or what?’

“Ah,” the Narrator nodded his head fervently.

At that, Stanley pulled him in.

And they... bumped noses until one of them, then both of them, realized they needed to tilt their heads one way, the other.

When their lips finally met it was almost a shock. A little hum in surprise, a silent sigh of relief.

One could hardly call something so silly and messy romantic, but when Stanley pulled back he could see that the Narrator must have still enjoyed it as much as he had- the man’s eyes still closed and his lips still in smooching position.

The Narrator slowly opened his eyes and the two of them stared at each other, breath a little heavy, faces red. Stanley’s hands were still cupping the Narrator’s face.

And then… they laughed. Stanley’s was silent but he bounced with the laughter. The Narrator’s own was quiet but warm.

‘Well,’ Stanley thought as they calmed down, ‘how, uh, how’d I do?’

“Mmm,” the Narrator merely mumbled a few odd syllables before finally putting his words together, “could use a little work... Per-perhaps you should try again. You should certainly try again.”

Stanley shook his head. ‘Can’t you just say you liked it and you want another kiss, like a normal person?’

“Hmm, how about- I know you can do better than this.”

Stanley’s mind went blank. The way the Narrator had said it and… wow, okay.

‘Nice… nice call back.’ he thought. Thankful he didn’t have to say it knowing he’d have sounded breathless.

“Oh, you liked that?”

‘Loved it.’

The Narrator went silent now, just staring at Stanley as if he were a work of art.

“Oh, shut up. I-I was not staring at you. Where else am I to look right now with- with you holding me like this, Stanley?”

‘Alright smart-ass, come on.’ Stanley finally let go of his companion. His heart ached, just a bit, when he heard the man’s little whine at the loss of contact.

Regardless, the office worker sat on the bed and kicked off his shoes. He crawled to the head of the bed and began fluffing up the pillows, then sat back against the headboard and pat the spot beside him.

‘Come on, maybe you can teach me how to “properly” kiss if you weren’t happy with the first one,’ he teased.

The Narrator simply stared at him, unmoving.

‘Narrator.’

“Hm?”

‘What are you a statue? Get over here!’

“O-Oh, yes! Of course,” his voice squeaked a bit, “terr-terribly sorry, I was just,” he took his shoes off then crawled onto the bed beside Stanley, “I was just imagining all the ways I could help, uhm, help you improve your kissing technique.”

Once he made his way to sitting beside Stanley, the Narrator began anxiously fluffing the pillows nearest to himself.

‘Think it’s gonna be the other way around.’

It seemed his chatty companion hadn’t been fully listening as he attempted to get comfortable through his nervous shuffling.

“Hmm? What?”

Stanley leaned into the other man’s space, ‘You wanna kiss me again so bad, huh?’

The Narrator dropped the pillow he had been fluffing. Then, with a certain pleading look and absolutely no hesitation, he nodded.

The prickling heat that had covered Stanley’s skin- since the kiss, since the Narrator entered the room- flared at the man’s sudden open sincerity.

No more games or goofing around now. Definitely later, definitely a lot. But for right now...

Stanley put his hands on the Narrator’s cheeks again, this time the man didn’t flinch but his hands shook a bit as he grabbed onto Stanley’s arms to keep him in place.

‘Don’t be so nervous. Just relax and let me be the guide this time, alright?’

The Narrator looked like he wanted to argue, for only a moment, before he stopped himself, then nodded.

Stanley licked his lips and, with more gentleness this time, pulled his companion in for another kiss.

The first one was enjoyable but was also a bit of a shock. Something so new that it was hard to focus on the actual thing happening and not just think finally finally finally.

This one? This one was what Stanley had been waiting forever for. Their lips fit together perfectly. His warm, the Narrator’s a bit cold. It was a nice combination, Stanley thought. A nice fit, a nice feel.

A few moments more, then they parted softly, his eyes now locked on the Narrator- the man was frozen in his spot, same as he was after the first kiss.

Well, damn. If kissing him was all it took to shut him up...

The Narrator clearly heard that thought, as his face went from pleasingly dazed to- well, still a good bit dazed, but scrunched in offense now.

Stanley just smiled as he moved his hands so he could brush his lips against his companion’s cheek. Then one, two, more and more kisses down his jawline. Down his neck.

The Narrator’s barely concealed moan at that made it clear that Stanley had warmed him back over. And the moan in turn warmed Stanley over as well, if the tingling in his stomach and chills he got despite the warmth were any indicators.

He kept placing soft kisses on his neck until the Narrator gave another moan and Stanley just couldn’t hold back anymore. He moved back up and pulled the Narrator close, their lips meeting again. He sighed into the kiss. This was warm. This was comfortable. And after all he had been through today- this was romantic.

Just as he was planning to nudge the Narrator’s lips apart- deepen the sweet kisses into something more, he suddenly felt the Narrator put a hand on his shoulder and they parted once more.

The office worker looked at the hand and tilted his head in question.

“S-Stanley, hold on a mo-moment, please. I, uhm, speaking- or well, thinking," he gave a nervous little chuckle, "of romantic, that reminds me, I must ask…” his voice was hoarse, his hair ruffled. He was a stupid stuttering mess.

All Stanley could think at the sight of him was cute, hot, more.

The Narrator froze for a moment, blinked as he tried to focus. Stanley could tell he had read his thoughts just then. Good. He wanted to get back on track.

“As do I, oh my goodness,” he readjusted his glasses that had been knocked askew, “as do I, very very much so… but first I m-must ask, you, uhm… you didn’t really mean what you said earlier, right?”

‘What?’

“About me being a terrible romance writer and a terrible writer in general.”

‘...Oh my god.’

“I mean, I’m quite certain you were simply teasing me but,”

Stanley grabbed the Narrator by his bright yellow bow-tie and pulled him close. Close enough that their lips were mere inches apart. Stanley wished he could speak his words so they could be whispered against his companion’s lips, to add in that extra bit of teasing.

Instead, he huffed out a soft breath in the absence of spoken words.

‘I love your stupid writing, I love your stupid game. Your romance could use some work… is what I will think if you interrupt again. If you don’t... then your golden. Five stars, babe.’

“Oh, uhm, five-five stars?” His companion gave a shy little smile. He looked so disheveled.

He looked so lovely, Stanley couldn’t help but stare at him- when suddenly the office worker was pulled back into another kiss. And another and another. The Narrator had apparently gotten over his shock and shyness. Initiating the slow deep kisses before Stanley had gotten the chance.

Stanley felt like he could melt from the heat flaring in his face, all over his body, his lips, his mouth.

All too soon the Narrator pulled back a bit, for only a moment, and whispered against his silent companion’s lips, “Let me truly earn those five stars, love,” then pulled him back in.

Chapter Text

Stanley opened his eyes. He was sitting in his office chair, his computer in front of him as always. He stood up and exited his office.

Looking around the communal office space he was not surprised to see it looking… the same as it always did. The Narrator had mentioned wanting to run an Anniversary Celebration DLC idea by Stanley. Asking for his opinion, for once, before just throwing him into this new situation.

Stanley couldn't complain.

Strange to not start with an actual holiday for DLC though. He coulda started with Christmas or even Valentine’s day, couldn’t he?

But anyway... Anniversary DLC? How would that even work? And anniversary of what, exactly?

Wait-

‘Is today my birthday?’ Stanley thought as he walked into the office space.

“What!? No of course not!” the Narrator answered, a little confused by the question. “I don’t actually recall giving you a specific date of birth. Although, I suppose if you did have one it would be the release of The Stanley Parable in 2013. ...But that also wouldn’t make any sense as you are clearly not ten years old right now.”

‘I’m in my twenties, right?'

“No, you’re somewhere in you’re thirties.”

‘Early thirties?’ he wondered with a slightly pleading grin.

“Late.”

Stanley sighed. ‘Anyway, anniversary DLC, huh? Hmm, is today maybe…’ he put a hand to his chin in thought, ‘...our wedding anniversary?’

“Wha- we aren’t married, Stanley!”

‘Oh, uhh… anniversary of our divorce?’

“What the hell are you blathering on about!? There’s never been any divorces or w-weddings!” the Narrator’s voice nearly squeaked on the last word.

‘Alright, alright, I give up.’

“Why are you like this?” the Narrator grumbled.

‘You wrote me,’ Stanley shrugged.

“Not like this! Hmph! And for your information, today is the first anniversary of the day The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe was released!”

‘What about the original?’

“The original is in Ultra Deluxe so we might as well just wrap it all up in one day! And that day is April twenty-seventh! A choice I made for obvious reasons.”

‘Obvious reasons?’

“Think about it for a moment, Stanley.”

Well he thought about it and for more than a moment. He shook his head.

“Four, two, seven. It’s your employee number you idiot.”

‘Oh right,’ he thought with a nod. ‘Hey, chill out though! We wake up together every reset so you know how scrambled my brain is first thing in the morning.’

“We don’t- why would you word it like that?” It sounded as if the Narrator had put his head in his hands now. “Besides, your brain is always scrambled, Stanley,” he finished bitterly.

‘But ya know,’ Stanley thought, ignoring his grouchy companion, ‘if it’s my number then that means it’s still kinda my day, doesn’t it?’

“No. It is my brilliant video game’s day!”

‘Your video game is about me.’

“It’s about me as well, you know.”

‘So how do you wanna celebrate us?’ Stanley gave a playful smirk.

“M-must you word it like that?” he said with a hint of embarrassment. “You keep making it sound as if we- oh never mind. I want to make some new Downloadable Content for the game! And what better way to kick that off then with something for the anniversary!”

‘That something being… ?’

“Well, you’ll just have to follow my lead to find out,” he said excitedly before he clapped his hands as if readying himself for the adventure ahead. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

‘Yeah, sure, what could go wrong?’

…

“Ahem! All of his coworkers were gone! What could it mean? Stanley decided to head to the meeting room. Perhaps he had simply missed a memo,” he giggled.

The Narrator actually giggled.

Stanley wasn’t sure what this man had up his sleeve but he was a little worried now.

The office worker made his way through the Parable like usual and it seemed as though everything was the same, everything except... the Narrator’s line delivery. The man was all too excited about whatever surprise he had come up with, giggling and saying his lines like there was so much more to them.

“Stanley was bursting with anticipation at the surprise that lay waiting for him in the meeting room. So he ran through the door on his left!”

Stanley walked through the door on the left, then went down the hall, and-

The door to the meeting room was shut. Strange, it was usually open. He eyed it curiously, then eyed the ceiling.

After a moment of quiet he grabbed the handle and slowly turned it, then threw the door open and-

“Surprise!!!!!”

The meeting room was packed.

There was the bucket, sitting on the table, the mannequin wife standing beside it. Behind them sat the fern, the cardboard cut-out baby, the line ™ , and even the... bucket destroyer? How the fuck did he fit that in here?

This might as well have been another attempt at the Bucket Destroyer Ending with the way this looked like some sort of forced reunion.

Only this time... there were party hats on every one of them.

There was also confetti all over the place along with a few blue and white balloons bobbing about.

On the meeting room table, right in front of the bucket, sat a cake. It was nothing more than a large rectangle with white frosting and the words ‘The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe’ on it and… a little heart.

‘Narrator…’

“Well, were you properly surprised?”

Stanley could hear the glee in the man’s voice and felt just a little bad about what he had to say next.

‘This sucks.’

“I’m sorry, what?”

‘This party sucks.’

“…”

Silence fell upon them for a nearly a full minute. And then-

“You suck! And you have terrible taste. And awful opinions. I didn’t really want to surprise you anyway!”

‘Narry, come on. If this is for the Player, do you really think they want a rehash of the Bucket Destroyer Ending?’

“Rehash!? It’s repetition, Stanley! It’s what our entire game is about!”

‘The game is about having fun. This is just dumb. What does the Player get out of this? And more importantly, what do I get out of this?’

“Everyone gets a delightful sense of nostalgia! That’s what anniversaries are about!”

‘Do you not remember what happens whenever you usually get nostalgic? It always ends bad.’

“It does not! The Memory Zone was-”

‘Skip-button.’

“Uhm, oh… right.” It sounded as if he began tapping his fingers on his desk nervously. “Well, what about… Ah! The trip to recollect all the Figleys when you-”

‘Hello? Trying to abandon me!’

“Ugh, oh… uhm...”

‘Besides all that, there’s no real nostalgia for you and me,’ he hated to get serious about- well, anything really, but it was called for at the moment, ‘we can go and re-live any ending we want whenever we want. But I don’t wanna do an old ending today.’

The Narrator sounded sad as he hesitantly said, “Not… not even the Freedom Ending?”

Stanley put a hand to his head, he could feel a headache coming on.

‘Narrator, you know I like the endings we have. How many times have I gone through the Games Ending! The Bucket Endings? I love em all! The broom closet, the window! The Confusion Ending is one of my favorites! Maybe second to the broom closet, but still. And I’ve gone through the Freedom Ending about eight billion times!’

“Let’s not forget, you seem to be quite drawn to the Countdown Ending, as well.”

‘Ah, yeah, uhhh, gotta… gotta try and see if I can find a way to solve that puzzle some day, ya know,’ he thought while looking away, his face prickling with heat.

“Stanley, I have told you time and time again that there is no way to solve that puzzle, it’s-”

As the Narrator rambled on Stanley thought to himself about how, annoying as it was, the real reason he liked going back to that ending was because of how hot the Narrator was during it. He was annoyingly hot other times too of course, but that ending sure was something... different.

“-And frankly, I don’t even know why you’d want to see what would happen after solving it. I mean, I would simply admit defeat- which is very unrealistic you know- me being defeated? Hmph! And then I’d restart the game. That’s all.”

‘Mhm.’

“Stanley are you listening to me?”

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. ‘Come on though, people are gonna want something different for DLC, for our anniversary! A new ending and all that. You come up with new stuff all the time.’

“Yes, but that’s just for you and I. When the game is off, what else are we to do?”

‘I can think of a few things.’

“Hmm?”

‘Never mind. Just get down here! Let’s just have an actual party!’

“What? I can’t come down there now. We are practicing a new ending for the Player! Don’t you think the Player would think it strange that I’m suddenly there in person?”

‘No, forget the DLC for now! You can come up with that later! It’s our anniversary, let’s have a party for us!’

“You... want me to throw a party for us?”

‘Yeah! Wait. Better yet, let me surprise you. I never get to surprise you.’

“… Are you fucking kidding me?”

‘Whoa, language,’ Stanley smiled, trying to hold back a laugh.

“All you ever do is surprise me, Stanley,” the Narrator said, his tone a little tired but not unhappy.

‘Okay, yeah, but you love me for it.’

“I-,” he coughed a bit, “ahem- ha!”

Stanley crossed his arms, he did not miss that embarrassed little stutter at the start there.

“Hold on a moment that was such a good one I think I have a few more laughs in me- ha and may I say ha!”

‘Anyway. Do me a favor and stop reading my thoughts for a while and… I dunno, entertain yourself for a bit.’ He shrugged. ‘Go work on some new endings or something.’

“You have absolutely lost your mind if you think-”

‘Narry, please. Let me do this, just this once.’

“Ah… but… how? You can’t change the coding in the game the way I can. How would you even go about setting up a party?”

‘I dunno, I’ll figure it out. I just want it to be a surprise and I don’t want your help.’

“No faith in my party making abilities, is that it?”

Ignoring him, Stanley put a hand to his chin in thought.

Hmm, anniversaries, huh? How could he make the best anniversary party?

He thought about all the offices- the loose papers on the floor, empty boxes here and there, and he knew that the break room (that he’d found some resets ago) was stocked with food and baking supplies.

‘Say,’ Stanley suddenly thought, ‘why don’t we make this a competition?’

“A competition?”

‘You pick a room to throw a party in and I will too, then we can try and decide whose party would be better DLC. But it has to be totally new, not… this,’ he gestured at the sad excuse for a party before him.

The Narrator laughed, “Oh Stanley, that is such a terrible idea!”

Stanley gave the ceiling a tired, unamused glare.

“Well, I mean… you won’t have the same resources as I do, as I said. Although, even if you did I’d think it would still be a bit of a non-starter. You simply could not in any fathomable way win in any sort of competition against me.”

‘Let me at least try. How about this, if you win then I’ll do the Freedom Ending... eighty times in a row.’

The Narrator gave a little huff of disbelief then said, “And if, by some sort of miracle, you won?”

Stanley had not thought that far ahead.

“Haven’t thought that far ahead, hmm?”

The office worker could practically hear the teasing smile in the Narrator’s words.

‘Hey, I’m just throwing darts at the wall and seeing what sticks,’ he thought with a shrug.

The Narrator sighed. “I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ‘throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks’."

‘Why would I throw spaghetti at the wall? I mean, I would, but I can’t really see you encouraging that.’

“Stanley. Please for the love of god just finish telling me the parameters of this nonsense competition of yours.”

‘Oh, right. How about if I win I just don’t have to do the Freedom Ending for at least eighty resets?’

“You know what, alright. I’ll take this bet. I do so love to see you fall on your face and fail miserably.”

‘Yeah, yeah, I know you do.’ Stanley’s mind began to wander as he thought about what he had to work with. ‘Hmm, wait...'

“What is it?”

‘Can you leave all the doors unlocked and not mess with ‘em? I might need to go back to the offices to get some supplies.’

“Sure, why not. Speaking of the office, I’ll stick with the meeting room and when you get back here you wont even recognize the place! Which room will you be taking? ...If you say the broom closet-”

‘No way,’ Stanley smiled, ‘that’s too small for what I have in mind.’

He began backtracking through the hallway.

“Oh, really?”

‘Hey! You better not peek in here,’ Stanley pointed at his head, ‘you keep your thoughts to yourself and I get to keep mine to me. I don’t want you trying to steal any of my ideas. That’s the deal, alright?’

“I’m not quite sure how to respond to so stupid a thought. But fine, fine. I won't read any of your thoughts for a bit.”

Ignoring him, Stanley continued to the two doors room then took the door on the right.

‘I’ll take the lounge.’

“Of course you will.”

‘Let’s give each other like an hour.’

“Stanley…”

‘Yeah?’

“There are no working clocks in the Parable. There never have been!”

The office worker entered the lounge. ‘Ahh. Hmm... don’t you have that countdown timer?’

“Only in that particular ending.”

'Huh… Uhh, let’s just not take too long and meet up in the two doors room when we’re done. How’s that sound?’

“Fine by me.”

Stanley nodded, ‘Alright. Let’s get started then! Break the link or whatever, no more thought reading then get lost!’

“You put it so harshly! But alright, will do," he pouted.

There was a moment of quiet as Stanley waited for the Narrator to say his goodbyes and go back to the meeting room.

And then the moment continued. And continued. And-

‘You, still there?’

“Ah, uhm, yes… so… leave- you want me to leave, now? And completely... completely cut our little ‘mind link’ off so I can’t read any of your thoughts... at all?”

‘Yep.’

“Right. Alright then. I’ll be off then. Fully leaving!”

Stanley nodded.

“Right now.”

‘Mhm.’

…

‘Narrator?’

“Well, it’s just… been a while since we’ve gone off to do our own things. Not to mention, to completely cut ourselves off from each other.” He sighed, more to himself and less to be dramatic, for once. “Perhaps it’s been a little too long if it feels so unsettling to me now. Though I am loath to admit it, Ultra Deluxe may have given us a bit of separation anxiety.”

Stanley smirked, ‘Aww, are you gonna miss me?’

“Get over yourself, Stanley. You know what, I think it would do you some good to learn to be a bit more independent.”

The office worker rolled his eyes.

The Narrator clapped his hands together, “Okay! I am ready for this! Off we go then! Toodle-loo!”

‘Later,’ Stanley thought with a nod.

He could then feel the Narrator’s presence slowly leaving him. After a few lingering moments, the connection was completely gone.

There were a good few endings before and during Ultra Deluxe where the Narrator seemingly wasn’t there- to the Player that is. Though he didn’t speak in endings like the Escape Pod, the Button Heaven, the Infinite hole, etcetera, etcetera- Stanley could still feel his presence somewhere in the back of his mind. Not watching him per se, but not completely gone either.

Right now, though, he was completely gone. Stanley was alone.

It brought to mind the Epilogue, the only other time they were completely disconnected like this. No longer a warm- uh, obnoxious... he meant no longer an obnoxious ever-present presence in the back of his mind.

He sighed. A little bit of separation anxiety maybe wasn’t so untrue.

It was strange. It wasn’t like the Narrator was in his head when he talked to him, but he could still read Stanley’s thoughts and feelings, not always very well though. But through any arguments, pranks, or misunderstandings there was still always that extra bit of something that tethered them.

It made Stanley feel like the Narrator’s presence in his mind was actually some sort of invisible string that wound around his soul and kept him from falling apart. Like if he were a cartoon character and the Narrator drew the black outline around him that kept him from blending into the background. Kept him from being just words on a page.

And maybe it was all in his head, but it was as if the more the Narrator said “Stanley” the more alive Stanley felt.

Out in that desert of the Epilogue, without that connection, he survived but he didn’t really feel like he was living.

Their bond was a strange one but Stanley found himself happy with it, through the ups and the downs. Sometimes it even felt like they were an old married couple. Which is why he got the sneaking suspicion every now and then that they were, but the Narrator was too shy to admit it... or forgot or something.

Or maybe not married, but what if at some point they had been together in a romantic capacity and a reset caused them both to somehow just forget?

That would be absolutely absurd though considering the fact that, unlike the Narrator, Stanley never forgot an ending. It would be pretty wild if the only thing he’d ever forgotten were declarations of love or a first kiss or something like that!

He chuckled to himself at the ridiculousness of all these thoughts. After all, he’d certainly daydreamed about kissing the Narrator enough to make up for it not having happened as of yet.

A lot… like a lot of daydreaming whenever he thought his chatty companion wasn’t listening in.

Stanley shook his head as he tried to shake off the fluff of all of this sort of thinking.

Today was party day! Not self-introspection day. Every day in the Parable was a new start, a clean slate! New reset, new slate! Today was the party slate!

He clapped his hands together as if readying himself for the adventure ahead- then stopped with a cringe as he realized he definitely picked that habit up from the Narrator. Feeling a blush coming on, he shook his head again then looked around the room.

Time to focus on the task at hand.

Oh wait, most of the supplies he needed were back in the offices.

He sighed, then began his back tracking expedition.

…

He had run all the way back to the first communal office space.

There was one working computer there that the Narrator had fixed up for Stanley at some point when he wanted to try a game of online Scrabble against him.

Never again, Stanley thought. Never again.

When he got to the computer he opened the search engine and began doing some research. And it was very important research that would surely come up again later in this story!

...

After a short while online, Stanley made his way back to the lounge. In his arms he carried a few large boxes stacked on top of each other that were filled with staplers, scissors, tape, and paper. Many many stacks of paper.

He settled down on the couch then got to work. He quickly cut a row of paper snowflakes and with a little more thought put into it, he found he could do the same but make them stars.

And so he cut out rows and rows of stars to hang like garland.

And he did quite well!

It seemed the Narrator had given him the know how of working with paper crafts, what an odd stroke of luck, he thought, as he began folding many cute little paper cranes. Lots of stars and cranes, he nodded to himself.

This was going to be perfect.

…

After decorating he ran off to the break room and began baking a cake. He could bake too! Good good.

Once finished, he took the cake back to the lounge he did his best to fix up some of the décor and then decided that enough time had gone by and his work was done. 

He then made his way to the two doors room and there he saw the Narrator waiting. As Stanley entered the room he could feel the Narrator's presence in the back of his mind once more. It was a link so easily broken but just as easily mended. It gave him a warm feeling all over and he tried to fight any sappy sentimental thoughts that threatened to show at it.

'Hope you put some effort into your party this time,' Stanley thought as he walked up to the man.

“You could not even imagine how much effort I put into this party. And the last one! It was repetition- oh forget it!" The Narrator shook his head then tried to look unbothered. "Anyway, I thought you’d never finish,” he said nonchalantly, looking as if he were checking his finger nails for any imperfections.

‘Genius takes time.’

“Ha! Does it now?”

‘Alright, enough small talk. Come on, you can go first.’

“Ah, so you would like to see the best first rather than last for this occasion?”

Stanley shook his head as he made his way through the door on the left.

“Wait, wait! Stanley, let me lead the way!”

…

The Narrator had run past him and was now standing in front of the meeting room door, which was closed.

“So,” the man started with a smile, “are you ready for the greatest anniversary party you’ve ever seen in your life?”

‘Considering the first one you threw, I’d say this one would be the only actual anniversary party I’ve ever seen in my life.’

The Narrator gave him a sour look then replaced it with another smile, “Please ready yourself for your admittedly small mind to be blown, Stanley!” And with that he opened the door.

Purple and blue lights flashed erratically around the room, some sort of uhhh... rave(?) music was booming through some speakers on each wall. Confetti seemed to be falling infinitely from the ceiling.

As he took another step into the room the music got louder.

Shiny balloons in silver, blue, and purple sat and floated about the room. And a big silver four-two-seven balloon floated to the right of the meeting room table. On the table, in the middle, sat a large cake with candles that almost looked like sparklers.

Walking up to the cake, the Narrator smiled as he said, “Well, what do you think? This party really takes the cake, doesn’t it? I’d say putting it together was really a piece of cake for me,” he gave an annoying chuckle. “No doubt your party will pail in comparison!”

Stanley walked up to the Narrator and the music got even louder, but not loud enough to block out his feelings of disapproval at such terrible puns.

‘You’ve done that last one before and I don’t even have the bucket with me right now, idiot.’

“What?” the Narrator shouted with a hand to his ear.

Stanley rolled his eyes, ‘Music's too loud!’ So much so that he could hardly hear himself think.

“It’s a party for heavens sake, of course the music is loud! Now tell me, what do you think of it all?”

‘Uhh,’ he looked around the room, ‘I like the purple balloons.’

And he would have mentioned the purple and green (his favorite colors) confetti being a nice touch, but the Narrator would have most certainly whined about how he hadn’t picked them on purpose. They were probably the only Stanley specific thing in this party though.

“Think louder Stanley, I can’t hear you!”

Now, thoughts can’t be yelled but the Narrator always seem to know what tone Stanley was going for when he thought. So Stanley did think louder.

‘Turn down the music!’

“What?”

‘I SAID TURN DOWN THE- thank you,’ he finished as the music quieted.

The Narrator bounced back quickly, “Quite the party, hmm?”

‘Yeah if you’re a teen wanting to go to a rave I guess.’

“Stanley, the Players are of all ages and I’m sure they’d all appreciate a proper party that’s ‘off the hook’ as they say.”

‘How about we don’t say that.’ He looked around the room again. ‘Anyway, uhh, nice job... I guess.’

The Narrator frowned, “Oh, what. Don’t tell me you don’t like this party either? There’s no satisfying you.” He put his hands on his hips as he glared at the office worker.

Stanley shrugged, ‘Sorry, this kinda party isn’t really my thing. I’m more of a… hmm, oh!- Remember the Secret Disco Party Ending? I like that one.’

His companion sighed as he crossed his arms and gave Stanley quite the grumpy look.

“So if I played some disco music- which is one of the reasons why that ending was funny by the way, no one is listening to disco anymore- but if I played that then you’d enjoy this party?”

‘I like disco,’ he nodded, ‘I like jazz too. And I think I’d like this party if it were maybe a little less flashy.’

“Yes, well, this is supposed to be a Downloadable Content anniversary party for the Players, Stanley. Not you.”

The office worker suddenly felt his face heat up. That’s right, this was a competition to see who could throw the best anniversary DLC. Not an... actual anniversary party for each other.

“Hmm?”

‘Nothing, I-’ Stanley could feel his face prickling with heat.

“Let’s get going now, Stanley,” the Narrator was already leading the way to the lounge.

‘What?’

“Let’s see how much better your party fared.”

‘N-no, wait.’

“Wait for what?” His companion stopped and looked back at him.

‘I’m- mine’s not ready.’

The Narrator narrowed his eyes, “For goodness sake, have some confidence in your work, Stanley! You’re normally so sure of yourself, what’s the matter? Know your party can’t compare to mine?”

Stanley took a deep breath then straightened his stance as he thought, ‘Fine. Let’s go.’

“Shall we?” His companion gestured towards the door.

The office worker led the way back to the two doors room then into the hall leading to the lounge.

...

Stanley stood in front of the lounge door. It was shut and he was glaring at it as if he could somehow get it to make his party cooler with just a look.

“Are you thinking about opening the door, perhaps, Stanley?”

He nodded. You know what... he could do this. Maybe it was a little embarrassing but his party kicked ass!!!

Stanley grabbed the handle to the door then turned to the Narrator. ‘Get- um... get ready for this! It’s,’ he hesitated for a moment as he tried to think of how to amp his party up, ‘this’ll… uh… this’ll blow your ass away.’

“Wh-what!?”

‘It’ll… um… knock your socks off? Er- no, what do British people say? It’ll knock your knickers off!'

“Stanley!?”

‘I don’t know just-’ he sighed as he opened the door.

“What are you- oh?”

Paper planets and stars lined each wall. The stars were covered in yellow glitter Stanley had found in one of the boxes of junk he had brought to the lounge with him. He was a messy worker so the glitter also lined most of the floor as well.

Little paper cranes had been set on the table on the chairs, a few were tied by string to the ceiling tiles.

Also hanging from the ceiling, in the middle of the room, were sheets of paper all taped together with big yellow markered in letters spelling out HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!!!

He had even gone and taken some of those ‘Get Well Someday’ balloons and markered over them in yellow. That took up most of the party planning time to be honest.

On the table beside the sofa was a cake that was covered in chocolate frosting and lots and lots of green sprinkles. There were some other fun candies he could find to make what looked like an outdoors area on it. With little trees and such.

The office worker ran in front of the Narrator and into the middle of the room, under the ‘Happy Anniversary’ banner.

He spread his arms out and with a big nervous smile he thought, ‘Surprise!’

...

‘Um, Narry?’

He hesitantly walked up to the man.

‘I, uh, know we’ve been together for waaaaay more than a year, but this is, I guess, the first anniversary we’re celebrating… it’s also the first anniversary of Ultra Deluxe, right?’

The Narrator gave a little nod as he walked further into the room, his eyes wide, his hand coming up to a small paper crane sitting on the table in front of the couch.

‘So, uhh, after some googling I found out that the first year anniversary gift is supposed to be paper.’

The Narrator looked back at him, his expression still unreadable.

The office worker mimed an awkward cough then thought, ‘And well,’ he did something of a little fist pump across his heart, his jovial smile in place once more, ‘I’ll be damned if we aren’t up to our ears in the stuff!’

His usually chatty companion just blinked at him.

‘Paper… There’s a lot of, um, paper. In the office.’

The Narrator finally nodded then softly asked, “The birds and stars though? And so much yellow?”

‘Well, I kinda thought- I mean, it seems to me like you maybe like space a lot considering the spacey stuff in the Zending and the Insanity Ending. And then there’s the Silly Birds Ending… you put so many different birds in there I kinda thought… maybe you like birds too? I, um,’ he froze for a moment.

Stanley didn’t really like being put on the spot like this.

He gave a little sigh then scratched the back of his head as he continued, ‘I don’t know. I mean, I think I know a lot about you but you’re still kinda this… mysterious guy- just a weird dude. So I just picked what stood out the most about you to me. Oh! And all the yellow is because I think it might be your favorite color?’

He stopped, not knowing what else to say. But he noticed, then, that the Narrator was looking at the cake now.

‘The, um, the cake-,’ his thoughts stuttered as he tried to find the words, ‘it’s… it’s the Freedom Ending. See the little trees and outdoors-y stuff.’

The Narrator stared at the cake for a moment, then he walked up to Stanley, giving him an odd look.

“You… put that much thought into all of this?” he said with some sort of awe in his voice.

Stanley frowned. ‘Don’t make it sound so strange that I actually put thought into something for once. I, uh, just wanted to get this right.’

His eyes went to the ground as he shyly scratched the back of his head.

‘It’s not really much.’

With a little hesitation he looked back up. The Narrator was looking at the decorations again.

Stanley looked around the room himself, taking in his own work again. He found that what once gave him glee now filled him with embarrassment.

God, this was so embarrassing now that he looked at it all.

He was- he um… well, he was pretty sure he was in his early thirties and yet here he was with all of his hard work looking like something a five year old would come up with.

Or maybe a guy who was way too obsessed with origami.

Either way, this just looked like shit.

And while he and the Narrator could tend to be sappy with each other every now and then, that wasn’t anywhere near their default. He now realized that this was surely too much. Too much and somehow too little.

All that effort put in and it didn’t look half as “cool” as the Narrator’s own party had. Stanley must have gotten so caught up in the fun of decorating, of trying to out do the Narrator. Maybe he got caught up in the idea of finally showing him just how clever and resourceful and thoughtful Stanley could be.

The office worker shook his head. How embarrassing. He really was an idiot.

Suddenly a hoarse whisper filled the quiet room, “Stanley...”

Oh god, was he going to cry? Was he already crying? Was this that bad? Either embarrassing enough to bring the man to rare sympathetic tears or funny enough to bring him to not so rare tears of laughter?

Stanley felt nauseous, he felt like he might faint.

“This is- so very much,” the Narrator’s voice was quiet and sounded like it was wavering a bit, “I’m not quite sure what to say.”

This was a pretty brutal start to what would surely be a mock-fest. The Narrator was putting his all into this performance. Like... almost too much. He was kind of almost sounding... sincere? Like, Zending levels of for real on the verge of tears if not already crying emotional.

The room was quiet for a moment, aside from a sniffle or two from the Narrator.

And then, in another whisper, he said, “I love it.”

Wait. What.

“Oh it looks so silly but it’s… it’s for me. No one… No one has ever done anything like this before,” the Narrator’s words were filled with a quiet sort of awe just as they had been earlier. “No one’s… given me something like this before. I really don’t know what to say.”

The glossy look of his eyes filling with tears nearly brought Stanley himself to tears. And the fact that this man- who had written ending after ending for the Players and for Stanley, had apparently never actually received a gift before...

It was sort of a sad thought.

Stanley didn’t know what the Narrator’s life was like before the Parable and considering the man never talked about it, maybe it didn’t matter.

Maybe the Narrator never mentioned it because his life before the Parable was incredibly complex and the office worker couldn’t hope to fathom it. Or maybe, it was as simple and unimportant as Stanley’s own “backstory”. Something that gave him the foundation of who he was, but ultimately ended up being just words on a page that could be so easily overwritten.

Thankfully, Stanley could think freely about all of this and not have to worry about giving his companion yet another existential crisis, seeing as the Narrator didn’t seem to be listening to his thoughts at the moment, being so wrapped up in his own.

The Narrator sniffled a little, wiped something from his eyes then finally spoke once more. “I tried to make my own party so… so perfect. Something that everyone would enjoy, something to please every Player with generic club night party… things. And I would certainly say I succeeded. Yes, I did spectacularly on that. But your party,” he seemed to hesitate for a moment before whispering to himself, “I don’t think it’d please the Player, but… it pleases me.”

Stanley looked around the room again.

He really had wanted to show up the Narrator with his party. That was a big motivator, sure, but that alone wouldn’t push him to think so intricately about how to decorate this party specifically for the Narrator.

He’d say he didn’t know why he tried to make it all so special... but right now, in this moment, he realized or maybe just remembered- ah, that’s right… that smile.

The Narrator was looking around the room in awe again, a soft smile on his face.

Stanley loved to piss him off so much that sometimes he forgot that he liked to make him happy too. It felt like such a special thing when he could get that rare warm smile of the Narrator’s. Or a laugh- one not directed at Stanley in a making-fun sort of way... or hell those laughs too even.

Ugh so so sappy. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted to wipe the man’s tears, he wanted to pull him in for a hug, or maybe a kiss.

Instead, he just gave a sheepish grin and thought, ‘So, you really like it?’

“Why, I could- I could kiss you,” he seemed to say without really thinking. His eyes went wide and his hand covered his mouth soon after.

Stanley smirked, it looked like they were thinking the same thing then. ‘I mean… you could,’ he thought. It took everything in him to not think something more akin to yes please please please!

“W-what!?”

‘If you wanna kiss me so bad then go for it,’ he tried for a teasing tone and shrugged, hoping he looked as nonchalant as he was so desperately trying to appear.

“Oh,” the Narrator gave him the most wistful look as his cheeks went pink, “I… I do.”

…

It was silent for nearly a full minute as they just stood there staring at each other.

And staring at each other. And-

If he didn’t make the first move soon then Stanley was gonna-

“Actually, wait just a minute!” the Narrator finally said. “We can’t have our first kiss be in the lounge.”

‘What? Why not?’

“That’s so… bland. It’s got to be romantic, Stanley! It’s got to have a good narrative punch! ...Ah, I’ve got it! Let’s go to the Zen Room!”

‘Seriously!? No way!’

“Stanley, I can reset the game from there now that it’s not being played, you know. And just think about the symbolism of it! An ending that once pulled us apart and brought deeply traumatizing and unbelievably painful sadness to me can now be the ending that brings us together as a happy loving couple, never to be parted again!”

‘You are so dramatic. And anyway, how is the lounge bland? Look at this embarrassing shit I did for you!’

The Narrator looked around once more. “Oh, that’s true. It is so very lovely,” he said, in awe.

When he saw Stanley’s smirk he gave a fake cough then said, “I mean, it’s alright, I suppose. But, Stanley, if we did it here then we would actually have to say our first kiss was in the lounge and that just sounds so unromantic.”

‘Wait, I know! Our first kiss should be in the broom closet.’

“I beg your pardon!?”

‘Come on, what’s more romantic then making out in a closet?’

“I honestly can not tell whether you are being snarky or serious but either way I think there is something terribly wrong with you. I’ll not have my first kiss be in a closet! No, no, absolutely not! ...Were we not both in the closet, in a metaphorical sense, for long enough, Stanley?”

The office worker shrugged again, ‘How bout the two doors room?’

The Narrator put his head in his hands as he sighed, long and tired. “It appears that our options are a bit limited. I think I’ll need to write some more romantic endings for us.”

‘Ohhh? How romantic?’ Stanley gave a sly grin. ‘Are you gonna write an ending where you try and woo me? Maybe an ending where we do a little more than kissing.’ He gave a wink, feeling his own cheeks heat up, but it was worth it to see the Narrator's expression.

“N-Not that romantic!” The Narrator's blush came back in full force, darker now even. “Uhm, well, not… not as Downloadable Content, I mean. We should certainly save that for another time, love. I mean, we haven’t even kissed yet after all, we- ahem! Yes… we must figure out how to achieve that ever elusive perfect first kiss. Hmm...”

‘Yeah, why don’t we talk more about it instead of doing it.’ Stanley rolled his eyes.

Suddenly the sound of crumpled paper colliding filled the room as Stanley’s vision was assaulted by falling paper star garland.

‘What the-’

He heard a little chuckle from the Narrator as paper covered his head. With a quick shake the paper fell to the floor and with a sigh he began picking up the fallen make-shift garland.

The Narrator laughed louder now.

‘Thanks for the help- SHIT!’ Stanley dropped the bundle of paper. He shook his hand then pointed his index finger out, looking it over. There was a long sliver of red.

‘Paper cut.’

He blew on it and was about to put it to his lips- why? He wasn’t sure. That was just something people did when cut, right? Give it a little healing kiss or whatever.

But before he could do so, the Narrator grabbed his hand and did the job himself.

Holy shit, Stanley thought.

The Narrator's hands were cold and his lips a little colder but the contact almost instantly made the pain go away. Or maybe it was just that Stanley was so distracted by his companion’s lips on his skin.

Not to mention how handsome the Narrator looked. He was holding Stanley’s hand like an annoying but handsome prince who had just introduced himself to a boring beautiful maiden with a kiss to the hand.

The Narrator smiled as he lifted his lips from the cut, “Trying to get into the writing business, Stanley? That’s quite the picture you’ve painted there.” He had yet to let go of Stanley’s hand. “I’d warn you, however, to not quit your day job.” He then gave another soft kiss to Stanley’s finger, then he- his lips touched the next finger, then the next.

Stanley could hardly breath.

When the soft cool press of the Narrator’s lips got to his pinky he gave it a kiss then went back to the thumb, then kissed the cut once more.

Stanley’s mind felt so fried. Warm and lightheaded. He couldn’t think, moreso than usual. And his lips felt so dry.

‘Lick them.’

The Narrator froze, his own lips still near Stanley's fingers. “W-what!?” His dark blush somehow blossomed into an even deeper red.

‘WAIT! I MEAN- shit,’ Stanley felt his own face go aflame, ‘I- I was talking-thinking, I was thinking to myself. I didn’t mean to think it at you. It’s my,’ he proceeded to lick his lips as he tried to think of a clearer way to explain, ‘they’re dry. My lips were dry… I… I meant I was telling myself I should lick my lips. I-’ he stopped.

With a silent groan he covered his eyes with his free hand.

After a moment or two, he took a peek through his fingers at the man still holding his other hand.

The Narrator looked as though he were trying to not laugh again. He recovered quickly and maintained something of a thoughtful tone as he said, “Call me crazy, but I’ve just gotten a rather fun idea from your commanding little slip up.”

‘Commanding? I didn’t mean to-’

“Let’s say we forget the bet.”

‘Huh?’

“And instead… if you do everything I ask of you in the next reset, then in this one I shall do anything you ask of me.”

A million thoughts clouded his mind while it simultaneously felt like his head was empty. His brain was truly scrambled now.

‘I- uh, any-anything?’

“Well, anything within reason,” the Narrator said in a teasing sort of way as he began messaging the palm of Stanley's hand.

A million thoughts.

The main one at the moment though... ‘Just kiss me already!’

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted you to say that. I suppose I’ll settle on a lounge first kiss, just for you Stanley.” He leaned up, releasing Stanley’s hand to now rest his own behind the office worker’s head, then gently pulled him in and their lips met.

It was a slightly awkward brush of lips that lingered for a few moments. A near feather light touch filled with want but also a bit of nervous hesitancy on both sides.

As they parted, much too soon for Stanley’s liking, the Narrator released his gentle grasp on the office worker. Stanley noticed the Narrator’s hands shaking a bit as the man tangled his fingers in one another, probably in nervousness.

Then he saw the Narrator’s expression. The kiss had been so quick, so light, yet the man still had a cute goofy smile on his face about it. Stanley felt like his heart would leap out of his chest at that smile, and at how red his companion’s face now was over such a small kiss. He had the sudden urge to tease the man about it, but another urge overtook it almost instantly.

He softly grabbed the Narrator’s face in his hands and pulled him back in for another kiss. This one much more passionate than the first.

His chatty companion let out a squeak of surprise when their lips met again so suddenly, but at Stanley’s intensity- his confidence in the kiss now- the Narrator realized that he could fully indulge as well, his hands latching onto Stanley’s arms and pulling him close.

Stanley felt warm all over despite the chill of the Narrator’s lips. And when those lip’s had met his own with full force it had been like a burst of ice for just a second or two before Stanley quickly acclimated to the feel. It was a nice cool sensation but after a moment or two of kissing he decided to take it on himself to fully warm the Narrator’s lips between his own- moving from the kiss to lightly sucking the man’s bottom lip, then the top. Each like melting an ice cube in his mouth.

The Narrator gave a shocked little whimper of surprise in response to each.

The man's lips had been so cold at first, but so easily warmed, and surprisingly soft. Something about the Narrator's personality being much the same could be said right now, but Stanley wasn't in the mood for any in-depth thinking at the moment.

When the office worker felt he had properly warmed his companion's lips enough he finished with a little lick across both.

“Mmm,” the Narrator hummed.

Stanley broke away for a second. This was hot and all, but he couldn’t help but smile at such sounds from the Narrator, especially ones that he had caused.

The Narrator opened his eyes and gave a little whine and pout at the loss of him, so Stanley quickly gathered himself then moved back in for another kiss. Then another and another. The entire time he could feel the Narrator’s cheeks, still in his hands, slowly warming. Especially when Stanley parted his lips and went in to finally deepen the kiss.

He got another low rumble of a hum from his companion and it was almost dizzying how much he loved the feel of the Narrator’s mouth. Dizzying how much he loved every sound the Narrator made- each exclamation or hum from him made the hot tingles Stanley felt all over intensify. It was a nice contrast to how the Narrator’s form usually felt. There was always that certain coolness to the touch of him, accompanied by a slight static-y twinge. Though that may sound painful or strange it was far from it. At least… it felt quite nice to Stanley. He liked it a lot, more than he cared to admit.

He could admit it right now though, he would admit to anything right now. He wouldn’t even try to hide how the soft icy warm sensation of his companion’s lips and tongue on his own felt incredible.

The Narrator suddenly made a deep hum of a sound against him just then and it gave Stanley shivers. He couldn’t describe it but he needed to hear it again.

And he was pretty sure he knew what caused it.

Amazing, Stanley thought. He wondered how anyone could make him feel so amazing. And the Narrator did such a good job of following his lead too. So good.

The Narrator’s grip on Stanley’s arms tightened as he once again moaned- oh it... it was a moan.

Before Stanley could even begin to process the feeling that gave him he suddenly felt the Narrator’s fingers in his hair, lightly tugging outward as his palms pulled Stanley in for more open mouthed kisses, even more intense now.

Stanley felt so hot, so lightheaded. He felt as if his legs could no longer hold him up, like he could black out from the intensity of his own feelings.

In a quick and almost painful move he broke away a bit, still holding the man’s face in his hands, both of them breathing heavily in each other’s space. The Narrator’s own hands froze in Stanley’s hair, slowly traveling back down to his arms once more.

Stanley wanted to continue- to take things further even, but he had to have a moment to gather himself and process all of this. He’d wanted this for such a long time and to finally get it- to finally feel it was as addictive as it was overwhelming.

And if the Narrator’s absolutely zenned out expression was anything to go by, he was sure his companion felt the same.

After about a minute of just staring at each other, just caressing the Narrator’s face as the man leaned into it, the Narrator suddenly gave a little laugh.

“Oh my, I’ve ruffled your hair quite a bit,” he said, his voice hoarse, as he began brushing his fingers through Stanley's hair to fix it.

‘Mmm…’ The office worker’s hands fell from his companion’s face as he closed his eyes and relaxed into the brushing. It felt so nice. ‘Can this be my next wish?’

“Hm? Wish?”

‘You said I could have whatever I want today.’

“Stanley, these aren’t wishes,” he nearly whispered, still a little out of breath. “I’m a narrator, not a genie. These are requests, my love.” He stopped brushing through his silent protagonist’s hair only for Stanley to grab his hands and pull them back.

‘Okay, fine, then I request you keep brushing though my hair a little more.’

The Narrator complied with a smile and continued for another minute or so.

“Good to know. You like brushing and tugging, hmm?” he lightly teased.

Stanley gave something of a silent chuckle, still trying to steady his breathing. ‘I mean,’ he thought, ‘this is a nice little break but I do wanna, uh, well- you know… wanna do more kissing. And-and if you want... I’ve got two different apartments... you could pick one and we could-’

“Whoa, slow down there, tiger,” the Narrator said, a smile on his face, his face still deep red. He lowered his hands to grab Stanley’s own then pulled his silent protagonist over to the couch.

‘Couch, couch, good idea.’ Stanley nodded vigorously.

“Should we not eat our cake first?” the Narrator pointed to the dessert on the table.

‘Oh... right.’

They sat on the couch and the Narrator began cutting the dessert before him. “Little bit of cake and some tea and then back to, ah-ahem... anything.”

Stanley could only nod dumbly in response as he followed him to sit.

Taking a little break was probably the better idea since Stanley did feel like he could pass out at any moment just from the intensity of even thinking about all of that anything.

The Narrator suddenly handed him a plate of cake, “Here you are.”

Smiling, the office worker took it. He looked at it then looked at the Narrator... then placed the cake back on the table.

“Stanley, you had better eat that. You went through all the trouble of rummaging through the break room fridge to find it I’m sure.”

‘Hey! I found the ingredients and baked it myself! And anyway, I’ll eat it in a second.’

“Well then, if you baked it we probably shouldn’t eat it- S-Stanley!”

The office worker had leaned over to press a soft kiss against his annoying companion’s cheek. And you know what, if he was going to get sappy and all that today then why not go all the way, he thought, as he wrapped his arms around the man as well.

“Oh!” The Narrator was surprised by all of this physical affection at first but then, quick to adapt as ever, set his own cake back down and wrapped his own arms around his silent protagonist.

“Aww, Stanley. And you call me an overly emotional sap.”

‘Because you are.’

“Hah!”

‘Happy anniversary, Narrator.’

“Happy anniversary, Stanley.”

...

‘Wait... So do you admit you lost the bet?’ Stanley backed away a bit and gave his companion a smug look.

The Narrator gave a tired sigh, but couldn’t hide his fondness as he pushed Stanley away and said, “Oh, shut up and eat your cake.”

Chapter Text

Stanley opened his eyes. He was sitting in his office chair, his computer in front of him as always. He stood up and exited his office.

He took a look around the communal office space and was not surprised to see it looking a lot more summery than usual. The Narrator had mentioned wanting to run some Summer Fun DLC ideas by Stanley. Asking for his opinion, for once, before just throwing him into a new situation.

Stanley couldn’t complain. To be honest, though, he wasn’t really a summer kind of guy. He preferred Fall. Not to mention, he felt it was kind of a weird choice to start off this holiday DLC thing with summer.

Summer... just summer? Why not something bigger like Christmas? Hell, even Valentine’s day! Or at least maybe a holiday at all- it could have been the fourth of July.

“Get with the times, Stanley! No one cares about the fourth of July and all of that patriotic nonsense anymore. It’s just in bad taste.”

Stanley wasn't really sure what that all meant but he'd take his word for it. And yes the Narrator's word didn't mean much but the office worker had nothing else to go by for this. He did have to wonder, though, if the fact that his companion had a British accent had anything to do with his stance. Even if he wasn’t actually British because he wasn’t even a human.

The office worker shook off the thought and looked around, he nodded in approval at the décor. Garland consisting of big palm tree leaves lined the top of each wall now. And there were fun multi-colored beach balls slowly rolling about. In the far left corner of the office sat a rather well contained pile of sand with a big blow up palm tree resting on it. And around that were a couple flamingo floaties. This was all accompanied by a light little beach-y tune playing in the background.

“Now, I thought we should start small, Stanley. Just some nice summer fun decorations all over the place! I haven’t actually got an ending idea for this yet, so let’s just see where this takes us, shall we? And by us I mean me. Let’s see where I decide to go with this.”

Stanley was squeezing one of the floaty flamingos when he suddenly stopped, his eyes going wide.

He grabbed the bird balloon and took off running.

“Stanley, wait! Where are you going- I haven’t-” the Narrator sighed.

…

“A pool?”

Stanley nodded.

“You want- am I getting this right? You want me... to install a pool... in the warehouse?”

They were indeed in the warehouse right now. The office worker was currently standing in front of the lift that lead to the Apartment Ending. He looked down over the ledge and nodded again.

“Stanley, do you have any idea how far down a drop that is? Look at the sign! Do you really think a diving board being this high up-”

‘Just change the dimensions,’ Stanley thought.

“What?”

‘You know, like you do sometimes. Just shuffle some stuff around.’ He moved his hands in a ‘shuffling some stuff around’ motion to get his point across. The flamingo floaty squeaked as he moved, his arm still latched tightly around it through the center.

“It is a much more technical and grueling process than simply ‘shuffling some stuff around’!”

The office worker crossed his arms, the floaty squeaking with his movements again, ‘Yeah, yeah, you work very hard and don’t get nearly enough credit for it.’

“Do you think that giving me sass is going to get you a pool?”

‘Sass? What sass?’ He uncrossed his arms, putting his hands in his pockets, trying to look more… uh… nonchalant? ‘I meant it! You do work very hard! Why not reward that work with a nice swim!’

“Stanley-”

‘Anyway, what if this turns into a cool new DLC idea? Wouldn’t that be great?’

“I can’t even begin to fathom the lunacy of adding swimming mechanics to a game about a man who works in an office building. When the game is being played you can’t even jump!”

Stanley just stared at the ceiling, unfazed.

The Narrator grumbled, “I suppose you won’t stop bothering about it until I do this?”

‘Come on, you never take any of my suggestions!’

“That is absolutely, without question, unequivocally untrue! I’m quite certain that if you wanted to do something bizarre like… oh I don’t know, throw an anniversary or birthday party or something silly of that nature, then you would find some way to annoy me into it.”

The Narrator paused for a moment.

“Hmm,” he continued, “that is an oddly specific scenario I just thought up. We’ve not ever done anything like that before… have we, Stanley?”

The office worker shook his head, they definitely hadn’t. But that was a strangely familiar thought.

It couldn’t have happened if Stanley couldn’t remember it though! After all, Stanley never forgot any endings. And he certainly didn’t remember anything like that. Not to mention, this was the first ‘Holiday DLC’ ending they were trying out!

And another odd thing was that thinking about all of this... was giving him a headache.

He decided to abandon the slightly painful feeling of deja vu with an eye roll. ‘Gimme a break, why would I ever wanna throw a party? Who would it even be for?’

“Why do you ever do any of the things that you do, Stanley?”

‘Narrator, come on,’ he gave a bit of a pleading look. ‘Just this once…’

“Hmm, is that a hint of begging I detect?”

Stanley’s expression soured. ‘Hell no.’

“Oh, come now. Perhaps if you just tried a nice simple ‘please’ you might get what you want,” he teased.

Stanley gave a little huff as he crossed his arms again. ‘Okay, fine. If you can’t actually make a pool all you had to do was say so.’ He shrugged then turned to leave the warehouse.

“What!? Of course I can make a pool! Don’t be ridiculous! You know I- w-wait a minute. No, I wont be falling for that, Stanley! Nice try though.”

‘Do it for the fans, Narry.’

“What fans? The game is currently off! No one is here but the two of us! I will not be adding a swimming pool to our future Downloadable Content line up!”

Stanley tapped his foot impatiently. So no pool, that was that. He looked around the warehouse wondering what the next best thing he could do was.

In his anger at the Narrator’s dismissal his mind wandered, for only a moment, to the Zending.

The Narrator gasped, “You would be so cruel as to put me through that again, Stanley?”

The office worker smiled as he shook his head, ‘Nah, I’m not really in the mood for revenge or whatever right now. Maybe later. I guess right now I… I’m Just kinda tired.’ He frowned as he looked down at the bottom of the warehouse.

Man, a pool really would have been so nice. He sighed.

“…”

Not like he asked for a lot, and he’d done the Freedom Ending so recently too.

“...Oh, you know what… fine! I’m getting tired of this and I know you wont shut up about it until I do it,” he spat the words bitterly.

Wow, that wasn’t so hard. Stanley thought with a sudden smile. What a sap.

“You know I heard that,” the Narrator grumbled.

‘You’re still gonna do it though, right?’

“Only because you’ve done the Freedom Ending again recently.”

‘Yeah, sure. That’s why.’ It definitely wasn’t because the Narrator had a soft spot for him or anything like that.

His chatty companion ignored him as he began to mumble to himself, “Hmm, alright, let’s see-”

The warehouse began to shake. Stanley backed away from the ledge and held onto the gate that sat behind him and right before his eyes the dimensions of the room began to change, as well as certain aspects of it.

The shaking stopped and he surveyed his new surroundings.

Where the lift once waited was now a diving board. Below it was a very large pool, not as far down a drop as the warehouse floor once was. Speaking of the warehouse floor, it was now completely covered in sand. The trucks were gone and the garages were closed. The huge shelving units still loomed large over the left side of the warehouse and there were some scattered crates and boxes that also remained. It all gave the entire area below a sort of office warehouse meets beach party slash pool party kind of vibe. 

It was a little strange, a little mishmash. And Stanley kind of liked it.

He looked around his more immediate surroundings on the upper floor. Not much had changed other than the diving board. But immediately after entering the warehouse there was usually a step-ladder beside the door on the left wall. Instead now, the ladder was replaced with some dressing booths. And beside those was a rack filled with different colors and types of swimwear.

Stanley ran over to pick one out. He suddenly felt so excited, he felt like a kid again- well, not that he had physically ever really been one- being a video game character that was written to life as an adult and all that. But still.

Regardless, he enthusiastically looked through the swimwear, grabbed a fun tropical looking pair of swim trunks, then ran into the nearest changing booth.

He was about to get changed when he hesitated and peeked his head back out, looking up at the ceiling.

‘Hey, you can’t see in the changing booth or anything like that, right?’ He could feel his face burning at the thought and was even a little shocked at himself for thinking it.

“What!? Of course not! ...Well, I mean I could, I suppose, but I would never!! Do you really think so little of me that you’d imply I’d ever stoop so low as to be a- a peeping tom of some sort!”

Stanley rolled his eyes, ‘Chill out, I was just making sure.’ He ducked back into the booth but couldn’t hide the smile on his lips at the sound of the Narrator being flustered.

“Oh, just hurry up already.”

Stanley changed and slowly walked out of the booth. He felt a little shy. He had no clue how long he’d been in the Parable but he couldn’t recall ever changing his clothes before now. To be honest, he was a little relieved that he could at all.

“Of course you can change your clothes! You’ve simply never had any need to.”

He crossed his arms. ‘Well, when the game is being played I don’t even have feet.’

“You have feet, Stanley. That was one ending and it was for the humor of it.”

‘Anyway, you comin’ down?’

“Hmm. What?”

‘Are you gonna come down and swim too?’

“Absolutely not.”

‘Come on, it’s supposed to be summer fun.’

“I think we’ve lost the plot a bit here, Stanley. Quite literally, I have no idea what the plot of this Downloadable Content is supposed to be. So far it’s just been you getting me to do things for you- which I must say, I am not a fan of.”

‘The plot is you getting your ass down here and going swimming with me.’

“There’s no need to be crude. But if you’re that lonely and in need of my physical presence then fine.”

Another battle won. Stanley smiled to himself.

All was silent for a few minutes, then the door that Stanley had originally entered into the warehouse from opened. The Narrator walked into the room, looking grouchy as ever.

“This is really quite pointless. I can’t be down here when the game is on, you know. Therefore, none of this would work as an actual Downloadable Content ending.”

‘I know. But hey, maybe going for a swim will inspire you or whatever.’

The Narrator crossed his arms. “I don’t think I’ll be swimming.”

Stanley walked up to him, his flamingo floaty still squeaking with every step. ‘I think you will.’

The Narrator attempted, and failed, to look offended as Stanley got in his space. The office worker wasn't really sure what to call the man's actual expression, but the newly found rosy tint that bloomed over his cheeks was clear enough. He was either very angry (he wasn’t) or very shy about seeing Stanley shirtless this close up.

“What!? A-Absolutely not! Wipe that smirk off your face this instant, Stanley! I-” he cut himself off, his scolding falling silent as his expression softened. His eyes went from one of Stanley’s shoulders to the other then back again.

‘What are you looking at?’ Stanley attempted to look at his own shoulders. Not much, they were just shoulders.

“Yes but,” the Narrator sounded almost mesmerized, “I didn’t know you had so many...” he lifted a hand and hovered it near, but not touching, Stanley’s left shoulder and made a little motion as if playing an invisible piano, “freckles.”

‘Oh.’ He finally noticed them, and they were very light but he still looked away and bit his lip in embarrassment.

“N-No, no,” the Narrator quickly brought his hand back to himself, waving it as he shook his head, “not in a bad way. I’ve always… well I’ve... always quite liked your freckles. When I wrote you I thought a nice light sprinkle of freckles would be a good addition to your rather bland face, and I was right, as I so often am. I just… didn’t realize there were more than the ones lining your cheeks.”

Stanley noticed that the Narrator’s own cheeks had grown redder.

He looked once more at his own shoulders- his freckles. The Narrator… liked them?

“They’re lovely,” the Narrator breathlessly whispered before shaking his head, “I mean… well, why wouldn’t I? You are, for the most part, something of my own creation, so of course you’d be to my liking- I, uhm, I mean…”

‘Alright,’ Stanley cut him off, feeling a little merciful for once, ‘go get dressed.’

“I will not be swimming.”

‘What did you come down here for then? Did you want me to just throw you into the pool?’

“Of course not, Stanley. That wouldn’t happen. I’d simply leave.”

‘You never “simply leave”. How many times have I pushed you off the cargo lift? Hmm, come to think of it… I think you like getting thrown around by me. Even in “Voice Mode” I think you love getting dragged around by me.’

The Narrator was finally able to give his best "terribly offended" look, but it didn't mean much when his cheeks still flared with a rosy glow of embarrassment.

You know what, maybe swimming and mercy weren’t that important. Stanley was having a hell of a lot of fun right now.

“Stanley,” the Narrator groaned, he sounded so pitiful… then accusatory, “oh, you just love to see me miserable, don’t you?”

The office worker nodded, his smile wide. ‘Yeah, a little.’

“Hmph.”

‘Come on, it might be fun! Get some swim trunks on and let’s go.’

He sighed, “I suppose if I don’t then I’ll never hear the end of it?”

‘You suppose correctly. ...Wait. Narry, do you really just not wanna swim? Or is it that you can’t swim?’

His companion gave a little huff, “That ridiculous nickname again?”

‘Answer the question.’

“Well, Stan, I… I-uhm... It’s- It’s complicated.”

‘Being a smart-ass will only get you so far, huh?’

“Fine! No, alright, no! I can’t swim! How do you expect me to have learned to swim when I’ve only ever had this human form in the Parable?”

‘Ah. Good point.’

The Narrator sighed, then rubbed his face with both hands. “Stanley, this Summer Fun thing- whatever it is, has turned out to be nothing more than a disaster.”

‘What the hell? I’m having fun. Does that not matter?’

“Really? You haven’t even swam yet.”

‘No fun doing it alone. Let me teach you how.’

“Do you have no attention span? You are absolutely ridiculous! And I don’t remember writing swimming into you.”

Stanley squinted as he thought- the memory was in there somewhere…

‘You wrote something about a pool party for… I don’t know, something. Whatever. I can swim.’

“Hmm, well, I must have been trying to fluff up your resume, so to speak. After all, I purposefully wrote you to be a rather dull and boring, button pushing, every-man office drone. But you had to have some life experiences.”

‘Narrator, we swimming or what?’

The Narrator gave a little groan as he walked over to pick out a swimsuit then went to change.

Stanley was winning so much today, maybe summer wasn't so bad.

As he waited for his companion to get dressed he did his best to mind his own business, busying himself with giving his pool floaty a good once over.

Then again.

Yep, should float just fine.

“Well, I’m done,” the Narrator mumbled as he stepped out of the changing booth. He was twiddling his fingers together, looking more nervous than Stanley had ever seen him.

The Narrator pushed up his glasses as he asked, “Do I look... alright? Not that what you think matters all that much.”

The office worker smirked, ‘You don’t wanna know what I’m thinking right now.’

The Narrator blushed deep red all over.

Stanley actually hadn’t been thinking anything. But as soon as the words left his mind and he finally got a good look at his companion, he couldn’t help but focus on absolutely everything about him.

He was so-

Stanley was definitely thinking things now.

The Narrator was busying himself looking over his new surroundings, presumably proud of his fine craftsmanship with the pool area. So luckily he wasn’t focused on Stanley’s thoughts at the moment.

Thank god.

Because all he could think about was how handsome the Narrator looked. Handsome and somehow still dorky. Something about him was just…

It was so frustrating! Everything about him was so frustrating!

The Narrator was as annoying as he was attractive! And good god he was so fucking attra- annoying!!!

And even before Stanley had seen the Narrator in human form, just that man’s voice with his weird annoying personality were enough to make Stanley want to slap him then kiss him hard. If he could. Which, technically, with a human form now… if the Narrator wanted that too... then he very much could.

Stanley rubbed at his face hoping he wasn’t the one blushing now but the tingling heat in the tips of his ears said otherwise. He attempted to look anywhere but at his companion.

‘Um, here.’ He pushed the flamingo floaty over to the other man.

The Narrator looked it over. “Stanley, what am I to do with such a thing? Is this not meant to simply look cute?”

The office worker busied himself by staring at a very interesting speck on the floor as he explained, ‘It’s in the name- it’s a floaty. Put it around you and it’ll keep you afloat in the water.’

“Hmm, well, alright.”

Stanley kept staring at the ground, trying to ground his thoughts. Thankfully he had a pretty good poker face usually and spaced out often enough that the Narrator wouldn’t complain too much about lack of eye contact from him. Not anymore than usual at least.

“Oh, this is a nice big hole. Do I just fit myself in there?”

Stanley looked up, his face prickling with so much heat still, more now even.

The Narrator held the flamingo floaty over his head and fit it over himself, pulling it down around his torso.

“Bit of a tight fit. And it’s certainly not as good as my hole, right Stanley?”

Stanley covered his face.

“It was mostly infinite, after all. ...Hmm? Oh, don’t react like that, I know you love my h-”

‘Stop talking!’

“Stanley?”

The office worker turned around and ran to the diving board. He took a deep breath and ran right off it. Didn’t even dive. Barely a jump. But off he went.

“Stanl-”

With a big splash he hit the cool water and it did wonders for easing the heat in his face.

Still underwater he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings.

The water was calm and crystal clear blue and though it was a little chiller than he expected it still somehow felt warm in the way it fully embraced him. He swished an arm in front of him, watched as the bubbles formed as they followed his movements. All around him he could hear the nice gentle murmur of the water attempting to settle from his splash. It was so different than the normal buzz of florescent lights he heard all day every day. And he quite like-

Air. He needed air. He moved his arms in a way that made it clear he hadn’t misremembered- the Narrator had written ‘being able to swim’ into him.

He made his way up and with a softer splash than before he popped his head out of the water and took in a deep breath of much needed air.

“Enjoying yourself?” a voice grouched from not too far away, but far enough that he had to shout a bit.

Stanley turned to where the voice had come from- the shallow end of the pool. The Narrator was standing just outside the water, the floaty still secure around his waist.

He looked so cute. And handsome… why did he have to look so handsome?

Stanley scrunched his nose in annoyance. Here he was trying to enjoy his first actual experience with water and swimming and the Narrator had to swoop in and make it about himself, as always.

Well, sure, maybe it was unintentional for once, because it was fully Stanley’s own fault for being unable to take his eyes off his chatty companion as the man now attempted to dip his toes in the water.

Stanley’s heart ached.

Maybe the false nostalgia of this whole pool party thing was getting to him… That had to be it.

“I- uhm, are you just going to stay out there, in the deep end?” his companion shouted over the water.

The office worker started to make his way over to the Narrator who was now looking suspiciously at the sand around his feet.

“Stanley, is it just me or is the texture of sand a bit unpleasant. Very, very unpleas- AH!”

A splash of water covered the Narrator, Stanley silently laughed as he splashed him once more.

“What is wrong with you?!”

‘Sand is great!’

“Oh is it? You know, actually, you do strike me as one of those people who would eat sand as a child.”

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ He did then wonder for a moment- what does sand taste like?

Shaking the thought off, Stanley made his way out of the water and walked up to his companion. ‘Sand is great for making sand castles.’

“Stanley, we are not children.”

‘Anyone can make a sand castle. Jeez, you ever heard of just having fun?’

“Of course I’ve heard of having fun! Having fun is playing The Stanley Parable! Are you implying my game is not fun?”

‘No, I’m implying you talk too much.’ He grabbed the Narrator’s hand.

“What are you doing?” He seemed apprehensive but didn’t try to loosen Stanley’s hold at all.

‘Time to learn how to swim!’

He dragged the Narrator up to the shallow end of the pool and walked them into it, the water covering just their feet.

‘There, no more sand, you whiner.’

Hand still in hand, he turned and looked at his companion. The Narrator didn’t look too scared, just unsure.

‘Hey, don’t worry about embarrassing yourself. Tons of people don’t know how to swim, I bet.’

“How- how did you know that I- I mean… Ha! As if I’d be worried about such a thing. If anything I’m worried that you will embarrass yourself with a terrible attempt at swimming lessons.”

‘You know, after spending like a billion years or whatever together I can read you pretty well.’

“Oh, have we finally found something you’re good at then?”

Stanley rolled his eyes, took both the Narrator’s hands in his own, then in one quick motion he used all his strength and threw the man into the water.

The Narrator flew in with a shout that was silenced with a splash.

‘You alright?’ Stanley thought after a moment.

The Narrator hadn’t gone all that far, Stanley wasn’t Superman or anything. He smiled as he watched the Narrator floating a little ways away thanks to the flamingo around his waist.

The Narrator was leaning over the floaty a bit, looking grouchy and disheveled. He moved to fix his, now water covered, glasses and as he gave them a little shake they shone in an odd glow-y and pixel-y manner, then were once again dry. He spit out some water and tried to brush his soaked hair back into place with his fingers.

Stanley tried very hard to not laugh as he made his way into the water.

“That was very cruel of you, Stanley.”

‘Oh yeah, because you’re always just such a sweetheart to me,’ he thought playfully. ‘Anyways, you had the floaty, I knew you’d be fine.’

“What if the flamingo float had flipped as I fell in and I’d been trapped upside-down?”

Stanley did his best to not laugh again as he thought, ‘Huh, well, that woulda put a little damper on our Summer Fun day I guess. Or yours at least.’

The Narrator pouted, “Just let me float here in peace. I don’t need to learn how to swim. And I certainly don’t need help from the likes of you.”

The office worker put a hand on the flamingo, the Narrator had turned it around to face away from him so Stanley slowly turned it back so they were face to face.

His chatty companion was still pouting. He looked so pathetic whenever he got even slightly upset.

“Did I just hear the word pathetic? Oh, that is just rich coming from someone like you. Sitting there, not doing a thing but pushing buttons all day.”

Stanley was trying to think of something snarky to respond with when a stray wet strand of hair on the Narrator’s face caught his eye.

Without even thinking he leaned into his companion’s space and brushed the hair back.

“Ah? ...Oh.”

Stanley felt mesmerized seeing the Narrator up close like this. His fingers lingered in the man’s hair, then he slowly traced them down his cheek. It was cold, as the Narrator's form always was, but not in an unpleasant way.

‘You know, we hardly ever say this to each other but… I’m sorry.’

“S-Sorry?” the Narrator whispered. “You, uhm,” he gave a soft chuckle, “you owe me many apologies but what’s this one about in particular?”

Stanley shook his head. ‘I dunno. Anything? Everything?’ He really didn’t know what he was thinking. The words just came to his mind and he felt the need to share them. ‘I love pissing you off, but sometimes I kinda hate making you genuinely sad. Just sometimes.’

The Narrator was at a loss for words. A rare thing for him.

Stanley’s fingers still rested on the man's cheek. Again without thinking he moved his fingers, slid them across the round tip of his companion's nose to the other cheek then back again. He could feel the lightest bit of warmth in the Narrator’s breath against his palm and watched as the man’s blush darken at his touch.

Stanley then found himself caught up in the Narrator’s eyes. The pixel green shine of them was dulled by the yellow tinted glasses the man always wore but the tint made them look a nice sort of olive green. He did wonder though-

He slid his fingers up the rim of those yellow glasses and lifted them.

The Narrator simply blinked at him, surprised but unable to respond. And his eyes- whatever shade of green you could call them, they looked so lovely. Just seeing them even through a yellow lens had given Stanley an intense fondness for the color.

The Narrator made a little questioning hum of a sound and at that Stanley put his glasses back in place, fixing the man’s hair a bit once more. His hands then fell to the flamingo floaty and the Narrator looked a little sad. Genuinely sad.

At the loss of Stanley’s touch?

The office worker softly smiled. ‘Is there anything I can do to get rid of that frown?’

Then he leaned in a little.

And a little more.

With their noses near touching he lingered there.

‘Anything… at all?’ he thought as he breathed against his companion’s lips.

“Oh, for god’s sake just kiss me already-”

Stanley leaned in and pressed his lips against the Narrator’s, and they were cold and wet and the feeling gave him shivers and it felt... vaguely familiar.

Stanley hated to pull away so soon, but he did so. And he looked at the Narrator.

The man looked dazed and a little confused and he was blushing all over, his lips now a freshly kissed red to match.

It took every bit of restraint in himself, which wasn’t much so he was really really trying here, to not just fall back into more kissing. But, he had to ask, ‘We’ve never kissed before, right?’

“Wha- what?”

‘This just feels so-’ he felt a headache coming on. Wow his brain must’ve been punishing him for not getting back to kissing yet.

“I should think that I would certainly remember something like this.” The Narrator's voice sounded a little hoarse and he spoke so softly and-

Stanley pulled him back in for another kiss.

He had both hands on the Narrator’s face now and noticed how wet he was. It was hard to focus on anything that wasn’t kissing when you were kissing someone but Stanley couldn’t help but have a stupid little thought- he wished he didn’t need to breath, then they could kiss underwater and how hot would that be.

The Narrator broke off the kiss this time, their lips mere inches apart now but he was… laughing.

“Stanley, you have such a simplistic yet vivid imagination. Hearing it from this close is quite the experience.”

The office worker backed away, not much, but enough that he could see the Narrator's little chuckle. That was another thing he loved- those rare moments when he could make the Narrator laugh.

And as he focused on that thought he was caught off guard when the Narrator pulled him in for another kiss, sighing into it.

After a few blissful moments… their lips parted and just as Stanley went to open his eyes they fell shut again at the sudden touch of the Narrator’s lips against his jaw. Wet but warm now- moving down, down, feather light kisses along his neck to his shoulder. Soft kisses being peppered all over it.

Though the water was cool it did nothing to quell the intense warmth the office worker was feeling all over. He tightened his grip on the float and bit his bottom lip, trying to steady his breathing.

For a brief moment the kisses stopped- the Narrator was so cruel- Ah- then continued again on his other shoulder.

Maybe a minute went by when the Narrator stopped once more and gave a curious little hum.

At that, Stanley opened his eyes- widening them in surprise when he suddenly felt another shoulder kiss that paused midway and turned into a little suckle and lick- soft, wet, cool against his skin.

And he-

“Stanley!?” the Narrator’s shout was accompanied by a loud popping sound.

Knocked out of the warm haze that had come over him, Stanley realized he had just popped the flamingo floaty.

Shit.

The Narrator was splashing around in a panicked state before he grabbed and clung onto Stanley for… dear life or something?

‘Hey! If you drown the game will just reset, it’s no big deal!’ he tried to reason while also trying to push his panicky companion off of him. ‘You don’t need to drag me down too though! This is too- too tight, let go!’

The Narrator’s arms were indeed very tightly wrapped around Stanley’s torso. The man gave an awkward cough but didn’t loosen his grip. “Hmm, ah, I just remembered… I don’t actually need to breathe.”

Nearly out of breath Stanley thought, ‘Well, I do!’

Good god the Narrator was strong. He was so very strong. The thought mixed a sort of intense dizzying warmth into the pain Stanley was currently feeling and it actually felt weirdly good and-

Nope! Not the right train of thought to have while dying! Change trains, change fucking trains, holy shit.

Dying may not have been a big deal to him but he wasn’t going out like this, god no.

Stanley tried again to pry the man off of him.

“Ah, sorry, sorry!” The Narrator didn’t seem to be paying much attention to Stanley's thoughts as he looked at the water around them but he finally loosened his grasp on the office worker, still holding him though.

Stanley took a much needed deep breath, inviting air into his lungs once more. He still felt a little dizzy, from a few things at that point, but at least he wasn’t dead! Which meant no restart yet!

“You know, you’re very tall.” The Narrator looked down into the water, noticing how Stanley wasn’t floating but standing.

The office worker took another breath then shook his head. He looked at his companion, still clinging to him albeit much more lightly now. ‘We’re still at the shallow end of the pool.’

“Ah, we are, aren’t we.” The Narrator nodded.

‘You’re just short.’

“I most certainly am not!”

‘Do you wanna argue or do you wanna get out of the water so we can get back to kissing?’

“I-uh, uhm… yes. More kissing please.”

Stanley himself was pretty strong, he had found, not stronger than the Narrator apparently but the guy wasn’t even human so not really a fair comparison. But still, Stanley was pretty sturdy for a tall and gangly guy. So he moved the Narrator, who was still clinging to him more loosely, up a little around him.

'Put your arms around my neck and hang on, but not too tight, alright?'

He was a little surprised the Narrator followed his lead so easily, unquestioningly even.

And with his own set of strength Stanley lifted him and walked the both of them the short distance from sea to land- well... from makeshift pool to warehouse floor that was covered in sand.

He then fell forward, still holding the Narrator so that the man's back hit the sand.

“Ah, Stanley what the hell! The sand, ugh sand…” he cried. “Now it’s all over my back and I was wet so it’s… ugh, this feels awful. I hate you.”

The office worker smiled. ‘Okay but how does having me on top of you feel?’

The Narrator looked annoyed before he realized the position they were in.

Damn, he really didn’t like sand if it was distracting enough to… well… to distract him from this, Stanley thought.

However, the Narrator’s slow realization came with a nice sensation for Stanley as his companion’s skin warmed beneath him. It seemed that, although his body temperature felt cold as a default, that temperature could raise very easily. Stanley liked being the cause of that rise.

“Would it be alright with you,” the Narrator grumpily huffed, “if we just got back to the uhm… the kissing.”

‘Yeah, of course. But first, I’m just gonna need you to admit that this whole pool idea of mine was a pretty good idea.’

The Narrator gave him a hell of a look.

…

“Stanley, you’re lucky I’m even still here. I could just leave and quite literally narrate you into an upsetting situation. I could narrate you into getting eaten by a sudden pool shark attack, perhaps? Or maybe, in a freak accident, water could fill the entire warehouse drowning you slowly.”

‘Those aren’t exactly your style.’ Stanley shook his head, with a lopsided smile and one elbow propped up on the Narrator’s chest now.

“Hmm. ...Uhm, belly-flop to death?”

Stanley silently laughed. ‘You really just can’t admit that I had a good idea?’

The Narrator looked stern once more but, soon enough, he relented, "Fine. You had a decent idea. There are you satisfied?”

‘I think we could both be more satisfied if you’d admit it was more than decent.’

“For godsake, Stanley! Fine! Alright! This was incredible! Brilliant! Amazing! An overall excellent idea!!! There are you happy now?”

‘I’d be happier if you meant it.’

The Narrator was seething- and then, he was gasping as Stanley began kissing his neck.

“Oh… o-oh…” he sighed as he put one hand in Stanley’s hair, the other on the back of the man’s neck. “I mean it,” he breathed, “I mean it. I mean it.”

...

“Wait.”

Stanley stopped and suddenly felt his companion's hands on his waist, moving him up a slight bit more.

“I wasn’t finished.” The Narrator curled his fingers tightly into Stanley's hair with one hand, gently pulling his head to the side, and began kissing one of his freckled shoulders once more.

The tug on his hair made him feel so hot and tingly but the kisses were so soft and warm now. It all felt so good.

To think a failed warehouse pool party for two ended up with something like this.

...

‘Wait a minute,’ Stanley thought. And he hated to ask for this to stop for even a second but he was the kinda guy who, if he didn’t voice his thoughts right away, would absolutely forget it.

“Hmm?” The Narrator loosened his grip on him just a little.

Stanley’s brain felt so fuzzy he could barely think, but he pushed on anyway, ‘I just remembered somethin you said a bit ago. Can you really get a shark in here? I mean, I don’t wanna be attacked by a shark, but I’ve always wanted to pet one.’

He got silence. The Narrator just stared at him.

It was odd, though, that for a moment it looked like the Narrator was both shocked and… maybe remembering something? He seemed to quickly shake off whatever thought he had recalled then sighed in a fond sort of way.

“Stanley, you’re so stupid.” Then he pulled him back down, their lips meeting again.

The only question on Stanley's mind now was- can we do this every day?

So when the Narrator pulled back once more to whisper, “We’ll see.” Stanley wasn’t sure which question that was the answer to.

And once his companion's lips met his again it didn’t matter, he was happy either way.

Chapter Text

Stanley opened his eyes. He was sitting in his office chair, his computer in front of him as always. He stood up and exited his office.

He took a look around the communal office space and was not surprised to see it looking a lot creepier than usual, which was a real feat. The Narrator had mentioned wanting to run some Halloween DLC ideas by Stanley. Asking for his opinion, for once, before just throwing him into a new situation.

Stanley couldn't complain.

Starting with Halloween was a strange choice, though, he thought.

And then... he kept thinking.

Why did it sort of feel like this wasn’t actually the first Holiday DLC they’d done? Had they...

Nah, he shook the thought off. He would know! While the Narrator’s memory could be spotty when it came to endings, Stanley had never forgotten a single one. His expertise at forgetting was more connected to blanking out certain things written into his backstory. And maybe also forgetting things that were, as the Narrator would put it, “Common sense, quite literally everyone knows this, Stanley”.

Considering he’d spent more time in the parable than in his own backstory it wasn’t odd that his memory was a little blurry in some places. Especially when it came to specifics. He knew he was good at decorating but he couldn’t remember what was written to be his favorite Halloween song. He couldn’t remember what that one fruity little cake thing everyone always seemed to hate was called. He couldn’t remember what those little pointy eared guys that helped Santa Claus make the presents every year were called and he-

Wait, why had he suddenly started thinking about Christmas? And more importantly, why did it feel like such a familiar thought?? It was almost painful how familiar it felt.

Maybe-

Anyway! He shook his head and shrugged off the headache that line of thinking was bringing about and continued on.

No, but... seriously. It was just so… strange. It just felt so-

Normal! Stanley felt normal and fine because he knew that sometimes a thought felt familiar and that didn't always mean something more.

Just some good old deja vu! Yep! Simple as that.

With a bit of a confused smile he shook off the silly thoughts and looked around the office.

The light hum of the usual background music was the same as always but the lights had been dimmed some. There were pretty strands of purple, orange, and black garland hung up on every wall that reflected the warm glow of orange coming from the string lights above. Here and there were cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and little jack-o-lanterns sitting beside each desk below.

And to top it all off, the usual eerie white outside the windows was replaced with an even eerier pitch black night, layered in a creepy fog.

The Narrator was oddly quiet, no “All of his co-workers were gone”, no anything.

Strange.

Regardless, Stanley made his way through the first communal office space to get to the next.

As he approached the door-

‘AHH SHIT!’

He instantly fell backwards to the floor in a hard thud. The spike of fear diminished when he realized what had popped out in front of him was some stupid cardboard cutout of a zombie looking thing.

He gave the ceiling a glare.

The Narrator snickered, it sounded like he was trying to stop himself but soon enough he couldn't hold back. “Hahha, oh- oh you should have seen the look on your face!”

‘I hate you so much.’ Stanley got up, still glaring.

“Now, now,” the Narrator calmed his laughter, “I’m sorry, Stanley, but this is a Halloween Downloadable Content! I had to give you a little scare! Don’t worry, it was just the one.”

The office worker shook his head, still a little pissed, but continued on through the office into the next. He walked up to the door 417 hallway and-

‘AHGH!! GODDAMN IT!’ He fell to the floor again as another cardboard cut out sprung up before him. ‘Stop with the damn jump scares already!’

“Oh, but it’s so fun!” the Narrator laughed.

‘It’s not. It’s really not.’ Stanley clenched his teeth as he steeled his nerves.

Because of his normally bored and chronically unfazed outward appearance, one might assume Stanley would be the kinda guy who laughed in the face of anything. However, truth be told, his careless jumps to the death and risky taunts at his sometimes murderous antagonistic companion were less about not being afraid and more about the thrill of feeling.

Feeling something new.

This particular ‘something new’, he found, was something he did not enjoy.

Stanley got up and grabbed the cardboard cutout before him. It was some strange white oval... thing. It looked like a vertically elongated egg with a single red eye in the middle and little black claw-like feet. He would say this creature actually looked sort of cute if it didn’t also look like a laser beam would shoot out of its eye and evaporate him on the spot.

Either way, he pushed the cheap cardboard down and stepped on it roughly.

“Stanley, what good would new Halloween content be if it didn’t evoke some good old fashion fear?”

The office worker hated to admit it but he did agree that fear could be fun. But this? This was just freaking annoying! And didn’t a good number of people not like jump-scares? How many fans would this alienate?

“Alright, alright. This is getting rather dull, anyway. But, we need some fun new holiday content! This is our chance to make those people who complained about not getting enough new content in the sequel see just how wrong they truly were!”

Stanley nodded. He could stay mad or he could be grateful for the fact that, as mentioned before, the Narrator wanted to get his input on these new ending ideas of his. However, he didn’t really care one way or the other about what the people wanted. But he knew that sort of thing was important to the Narrator and if he didn’t play along with whatever new scheme he was up to then the man would never stop whining about it.

“Whining? I didn’t catch the rest of what you were thinking, but I did hear that.”

‘I’m thinking about what would make the players whine with fear.’ He shrugged.

He could almost hear the Narrator narrowing his eyes when the man said, “Yes, of course.”

‘Putting up decorations was a good start at least.’

Stanley walked back to the first communal office space, it was much more elaborately decorated than the second.

‘I can tell you put a lot of effort into this whole set up. But, I mean, isn’t the game already unsettling enough on it’s own? It’s so empty. And every so often the office is completely rearranged or there’s papers scattered on the floor for no reason.’

“… First you call me whiny, then you call my game unsettling.”

Stanley sighed, ‘Everyone just disappeared. Is that not supposed to be unsettling?’

“Anyway,” the Narrator quickly changed the subject, “we need to make this Downloadable Content really count, Stanley! So I was doing some rather spooky research recently and I was reading about these things called… hmm, what were they called? Creepy… ah, something. It was creepy something… Oh! I think they were called ‘creepy pasties’.”

‘What in the f-’

“No! No, it was ‘creepy paste-a’! Yes, that was it! Knew I’d remember with a little time. Should probably look it up again to get my facts straight, though. You see, Stanley, this is a term used for creepy stories on the internet! These are stories that are so creepy everyone has copy and pasted them many times over! To share in the creepiness. But, for a catchy name- they have replaced the word ‘copy’ in ‘copy and paste’ with creepy! And axed the 'and'. So, there you have it: Creepy Paste-a!”

Stanley didn’t even know what to think about all this.

He suddenly heard some keyboard clicks and a little hum and then-

“Oh, no wait.”

‘Something wrong?’

“It’s ‘creepy… pasta?’ Well that doesn’t make a lick of sense. Does explain the odd ‘a’ at the end that I was remembering though.”

‘Does any of this have a point?’ Stanley lazily picked up a small jack-o-lantern and began inspecting it.

“My point is that we could make up one of these ‘creepypasta’ type of stories for The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe and try to get it to spread online.”

‘There aren’t creepy stories about the game already?’

“Well, I’m quite sure there certainly must be, but I haven’t checked that specifically.”

Stanley walked up to the nearby window, then away from it, then back and forth, back and forth. ‘I like the witches cackling you can hear when you get close enough to the window. Nice touch.’

“Hmm, oh, thank you! For that one I had to- wait, Stanley! Pay attention!”

‘Narrator, all of this video game stuff is more of a you thing! I understand computers well enough, but I don’t know the first thing about video games! Other than The Stanley Parable the only-”

“Ah, ah. It’s The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe now, Stanley.”

He rolled his eyes. ‘Other than The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe the only games I know are Pong and Space Invaders and Pac-man. Even then I’m pretty sure that’s just because when you were writing my backstory you googled “old boring video games” or something.’

“Those games are not boring! They are classics of their era! ...Or so Google says.”

Ignoring him, Stanley began twirling his finger in some fake webs on the corner of the window. Or- wait no- real webs. He grimaced then wiped his hand on his shirt.

‘Has anyone mentioned that creepy static-y sound that happens sometimes when I stand by the windows? Well, when they're normal white and not all Halloween-ified.’

“Mmm, I think that just may be the game trying to handle all of that white space. ...Or it could be rain, I suppose.”

The office worker heard some keyboard clacks and mouse clicks before the Narrator continued, “You know, Stanley, I’ve seen some people theorize that the way to obtain the Unobtainable Achievement from the original game was to play at exactly twelve o’clock midnight on a Tuesday. Bit of a spooky idea.”

‘What about that time when the office rearranged itself so that the bucket was in a hallway right outside my door. I walked out a little then turned back to see if the office door was still open but it was pitch black inside.’

“…What?”

‘And I got curious, so I walked right in and then I was just falling in a black void, but I could see- a little ways away, the structure of the entire inside of the office building. Like an out of map glitch or something? For real this time, not like jumping out the window.’

“Hmm, well that's certainly nothing I put in the game, I’d assume it was simply a glitch. Caused by the developers no doubt. I certainly wouldn’t have let something like that get by me. ...How long did you fall before the player reset?”

‘I don’t remember. Honestly, it’s kind of a blur to me now.’

“Well, that’s strange. Please, try not to trigger anymore glitches if you don't mind, Stanley. I try to keep this place running in tip top shape and I don't need you botching it up!”

Stanley shook his head, ‘What’s any of this matter? I’m not the writer so if either of us was gonna come up with a spooky Stanley Parable story it would have to be you anyway.’

The Narrator sighed, “Of course it would have to be me, Stanley. You are simply here to help along my creative process. You can’t actually write anything.”

‘So, you’re saying I’m here just to be eye candy for you?’ he smirked.

“S-stanley, focus! ...Hmm, perhaps we should look at this from a different angle. I’m not really sure how a spooky story could actually be fit into playable Downloadable Content, really.”

‘I still think we should spread some creepy rumors online though.’

“Of course you do, you live off of causing chaos and confusion.”

Stanley nodded, ‘Yep!’

“And,” the Narrator continued, sounding a little sad, “berating my game.”

‘Hey, come on. I really didn’t mean it in a bad way when I said the game is creepy! That’s part of its charm, I think. I mean for the Player. It’s not creepy to me. It’s, uh, I dunno. It’s kinda cozy to be honest,’ he thought.

“It- you… really? Cozy? Being trapped in an office building, stuck in a loop… that’s cozy to you?”

Maybe it did make him sound a little silly, and maybe the sentiment was a little too soft for his usual attitude towards his companion, but he felt… strangely, like he could think it and not be so embarrassed. It was almost as if, he had actually shared such warm sentiments with the Narrator before.

He didn’t think he had, though? Maybe?

‘There are things that make it cozy in here,’ he further confirmed.

“Oh?” the Narrator sounded a little confused. “Such as… ?”

‘I- ah, I dunno.' Now was hardly the time for such sappy talk. 'Anyway, I was just- uh, just thinking about how… monsters! Monsters are scary, right? Maybe the game would be more creepy if you added some monsters. And… maybe you could give me a sword to fight them off!’

That was actually an exciting thought!!!

Stanley imagined himself with a cool sword slashing at the walls, the desks, the doors.

“Stanley, you are the first and only thing I’ve created that suddenly became a living creature. As far as I know, I can not add any other sentient beings to the parable. Perhaps some cardboard mons-”

‘No, for the love of god, no more cardboard, please.’

The Narrator gave a little hum of a laugh but relented, “Alright. Hmm, ah… the Games Ending- I wonder if there are any…”

‘Any what?’

“Well, we could be bland and try to copy and paste little beasts from other games into ours, don’t know how that would pan out, though. Or... there are other sorts of monsters I could insert into our game. Go for a more creative rather than predictable route. ...Which I’m sure you of all people would prefer.”

Stanley was very intrigued now. ‘Oh?’

“Have you ever heard of... monster trucks, Stanley?”

He hadn’t known where this would be going but monster trucks was certainly not the turn he was expecting it to take.

‘Uh, yeah? ...Oh! Are you gonna let me drive a-’

“Please, proceed to the Games Ending and we can finally get this Downloadable Content going!”

…

Stanley made his way through the parable and the decorations were all pretty well done. It was all a cute sort of spooky. A bit silly even but it made him smile.

The narration was the same as usual until he got to the lounge. It was dimly lit with orange fairy lights and more soft stringy cobweb hanging from the corners. More garland and jack-o-lanterns and such all around. All in all, although it wasn't very creepy, it was extremely cozy.

“Hmm, it seemed no one was in the lounge. Could it be that… something truly gruesome had happened here?”

Well… so much for cozy, Stanley thought, as he continued on.

When he finally got to the warehouse he couldn’t see a thing. It was pitch black?

...

After a moment, the lights suddenly came on all at once and he wasn’t in the warehouse anymore. He was in what looked to be some sort of stadium?

And there was… an incredibly loud sound- trucks revving up?

“Ohhh, this looks exciting! Hmm, Stanley, I think you had better start running. Not to worry, though! They’re all set to go fast but not too fast. To give you a fighting chance of survival, of course!”

Seeing his predicament, he started sprinting.

Faster, faster-

“Ha! This is quite fun! You know, I’ve never seen you run before, Stanley. Perhaps I should install a little gym somewhere in the office for you. Never hurts to keep up your cardio and such. Well… it may hurt a little. But isn’t that part of the fun!”

Stanley never had to run before, and it was decidedly not fun. He was quickly losing pace, running out of breath already. His chest and throat were beginning to sting with pain.

“Come on, Stanley, you can find the exit! You’ve got this!”

The office worker ran as fast as he could. His breathing slowly becoming more heavy, more painful. Trying to run faster but slowing.

“Although, from the looks of it… perhaps you don’t have this. I will have to seriously consider setting up an exercise room for you. We can get you some barbells, maybe some of those little weights, and a few-”

The Narrator wouldn’t shut up, as usual. But Stanley could hardly hear him now, he felt like he was going to die. He’d die if he stopped running, he’d die if he kept it up, and dying may not have been a big deal in the parable but pain was still pretty damn not great.

Falling to his death always hurt a bit for a moment- much much moreso when it took multiple falls to fully kill him, but he was always alright as soon as the game reset. Usually just a little sore and achy.

But right now, he was in deep pain as he tried to pick up speed again, his legs and lungs were killing him. His vision was slowly becoming fuzzy.

“I’ll even get you a tank top and those little well-fitted gym shorts… those… well, ahem… that would be-”

What the fuck was he talking about? Stanley’s eyes were watering. He could see the exit- far off. It was too far off.

He could not keep this up. He just couldn’t keep running.

“Oh, you can’t seriously be getting tired already-”

He fell.

“S-Stanley!?”

The ground beneath him rumbled and shook as the monster trucks were finally catching up. The loud revving of their engines pierced his ears as they got closer and closer and-

He closed his eyes tight.

All he could see in his mind were those giant truck tires, some with spikes it looked like- oh that would hurt a hell of a lot, he was sure. Hopefully the Narrator or the game itself would show him a little mercy and reset after the first set of tires tore into him.

So much for no gore in the game...

Stanley could feel the rumble of the ground, hear the engines of the trucks, and he could hear... the Narrator was saying something-

And then, quiet.

...

Stanley opened his eyes. He was sitting in his office chair, his computer in front of him as always.

He no longer felt the intense pain he had mere moments ago, though, his legs and arms felt a little weak, a little sore. He took a deep breath and found that his throat and chest felt a little pained from the running still.

He wondered about that sometimes, he wondered if the leftover achy-ness was just his mind making him feel what it thought he should. He was fully reset after all, no scrapes or bruises. So was it more a thing of the mind making him feel those shadows of pain? Or were the resets just patching him up and putting him back in his office while his body honestly just tried to catch up?

Either way, he was a little achy as usual after a drawn out death ending but he was alright.

Wait.

He was shockingly much more alright than he expected. He noticed that the aches were the residual pain from just running… not death. He strangely hadn’t felt the harsh heavy tires rolling over him before the reset.

He tilted his head in curiosity then got up from his chair and exited his office.

“I hadn’t expected you’d run yourself ragged and pass out so quickly like that, Stanley,” the Narrator said, clearly disappointed in him. “Quite embarrassing for you.”

‘You thought I’d just wanna get torn apart by giant monster trucks?’

“Oh, please, one hit from the front end of one and you’d have been dead and reset- that’s how I programmed it! Just another silly quick death ending.”

‘No matter how you programmed it, I fell. So shouldn’t I-’

“Well, it doesn’t matter much now, does it!”

‘Did you reset the game before I got torn into? That seems a little odd for you, a little too nice.’

“What!? I simply dislike gore, Stanley! It isn’t always about you. … And if anything, I am much kinder than you deserve!”

‘Ha! When?’

“All the time!”

Stanley gave the ceiling a look.

“...At least half the time!”

Stanley smiled, and with his aching throat he was glad he didn’t have to speak with anything other than his mind. ‘Really, half the time, huh?’

“A quarter of the time? ...A good sizable chunk of a quarter of the time!”

The office worker did his best to hold back his laugh, instead waving the words away as he made his way to the lounge. ‘I dunno if “kind” is the right word for you in the first place.’ He began to pick up the pace, a little bit of running practice. He really should exercise more.

As he began full on sprinting he added, ‘But at least you’re always fun.’

“Wh-what? Stanley, I didn’t quite catch that,” the Narrator’s voice echoed in the hall behind him.

Stanley ran into the two doors room, through the door on the right, down the hall and into the lounge. He then flopped onto the couch and tried to catch his breath.

After a minute or so he heard the Narrator, “I hope you’re not looking for some sort of Running Champ Achievement. Because there isn’t one. And anyway, where was that enthusiasm- that vigor, in the stadium, Stanley?”

‘Gimme a break.’

“And also… what was... that last thing you thought just a moment ago?” he asked a little shyly.

Stanley was still breathing heavily as he flipped around to look at the ceiling. He shook his head once again waving the frivolous words away, ‘Don’t worry about it.’

“I am constantly worrying about everything you do. Must you always cause me such trouble?”

‘Hey, this one wasn’t my fault. Monster trucks was your idea.’

“It would have went well, it would have been funny, if you hadn’t fallen to the ground so soon. That aside, it’s such a shame you gave up so quickly. I did enjoy watching you run around for even just that little bit.”

‘Yeah, I’ll bet you did.’

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Stanley took a deep breath then let it out. He felt so tired. That was new. He could sleep if he wanted, he knew that already. But he and the Narrator didn’t get tired naturally. And that was either a side effect of living in the parable or maybe it was just the fact that he (and possibly the Narrator) were nothing more than video game characters.

“No offense to you, Stanley, but I’m much more than a simple video game character. Well... some offense, I suppose.”

The office worker really didn’t want to set the Narrator off on yet another existential crisis right now so he figured he should probably cut the introspective thoughts for the moment.

The Narrator gave a stern, “Stanley-”

Before the man in question interrupted with, ‘You know, I think you’ve kinda gotten a little soft.’

“What!?”

‘After Ultra Deluxe.’

“Oh?” he grumbled. “I’m soft, hmm? I’m soft and you’re just the- the manliest man around? Is that it? You’re just so… so not soft- you’re just so manly and hard!”

…

“What are you laughing about, Stanley? ...That’s it. I’m taking us back to the monster trucks-”

‘Alright, fine!' he calmed his laughter. 'I, uh, I hate to say it but I was complimenting you.’

“You were?”

‘When I said soft I just meant that, maybe you have actually gotten a little kinder over the years. ...And years and years.’

“Ah. Well, uhm... thank you, Stanley. I truly wish I could say the same to you.”

Stanley laughed again. And it was silent as always, so he could hear when the Narrator gave the quietest little warm sigh.

Stanley’s voicelessness never bothered him, but he was actually actively thankful for it when it lent to him being able to hear the Narrator’s more subtle reactions unimpeded. Granted, the Narrator was not very subtle most of the time, so those moments were quite rare.

‘So, what’s next?’ Stanley wondered.

“What’s next?”

‘We haven’t found a good Halloween ending yet.’

“Oh! That’s true. Hmm, hmm. Now, let me see,” the Narrator whispered to himself.

The sound of paper shuffling filled the room. That and the calming low tones of the Narrator mumbling to himself were… sort of peaceful, Stanley found.

He felt his eyes drooping. The dim warm orange lighting in the lounge was also very calming.

“Stanley, you- Oh, fine. I’m just getting some ideas together and if resting will keep you from causing me trouble as I do so, then I’d much prefer you to rest.”

‘Oh? A little more kindness for little old me?’

Stanley was actually so grateful he felt he could kiss the Narrator for this one.

“I- you… what?”

He fell asleep.

…

When he woke up, Stanley felt refreshed. And it was in a bit of a different way than the resets refreshed him.

He wasn’t quite ready to get up yet so he stretched as he lay there then closed his eyes again.

“Stanley?”

Great...

“Good, you’re awake! Well, it’s about time.”

‘How long was I asleep for?’

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s hard to keep track of time in the parable, you know.”

‘Did you sleep too?’

“Of course not! I don’t require sleep. Neither do you. Besides, I was busy coming up with some fun new Halloween ideas!”

Stanley felt a little fuzzy in his head still. He was still tired it seemed. ‘I’ve got an idea, how about you come down here and we both get some rest?’

“W-What!? You just rested.”

‘More rest.’

“And… what do you need me down there for?”

‘I think a rest would do you some good too.’

“Stanley, I don’t think that couch is big enough or comfortable enough for the both of us.”

He had said it so matter of fact, and that was… a little disappointing to Stanley.

“How else should I have said it? Do you expect me to be more emotional about the idea of us sleeping togeth-….Ah- uhm,” he sputtered. He coughed. He sighed.

Stanley smiled.

“Perhaps I do need some rest. A tiny little break might not be such a terrible idea. I’ll be down in a moment.”

Stanley nodded and waited. Staring up at the little glowy orange lights above him. There was a certain sort of calmness in the air at the moment, in the silence. Stanley found that he both loved and hated silence.

There were times when it was a godsend not having to hear the Narrator for a minute without having to do some boring ending like the Escape Pod Ending.

Other times it was just too quiet. There was the ambient music still humming about, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t actual sound to him.

He needed a voice, he needed to be talked to.

And that was the thing- when the game was on it very probably looked to the Player like the Narrator was talking at Stanley. But the office worker knew he was talking to him. It was hard to explain but there was a distinct difference. And it made all the difference.

Every word- from the softer speeches to the nasty quips, every word was so fully directed at Stanley whenever the man said his name.

He cherished that feeling.

…

Ugh, too sappy.

“What are you groaning about, Stanley?”

‘Nothing!’ He sat up. ‘So, what? Do you wanna carve some pumpkins or something?’

“...You literally just invited me to rest with you not more than three minutes ago.”

‘Oh, yeah.’ He scooted over on the couch and pat the seat beside himself.

“And you’d have to be insane to think I would give you of all people a knife for anything other than bucket killing.”

Stanley yawned. ‘Maybe we should decorate the bucket? That’d be a good Halloween DLC.’

“Do you really think-”

The Narrator froze as Stanley leaned against him.

“S-Stanley, you can’t still be tired.”

But he was. He felt like he had done so much today- no, not just today but for some reason it felt like he’d done about 80 new resets in a row. No break in between, no repeats to chill in for a bit.

He wasn’t really tired in a sleepy way, it was more like he felt exhausted.

“Oh, dear. Were the monster trucks a bit too much?”

No, it wasn’t that.

“A few more… rest sorts of endings? Would that make you happy, Stanley?”

He sighed.

“Tsk, tsk. All play and no work makes for a terrible employee, you know. But then, you were never really much of a go-getter, always set in your ways to do the least amount of work possible. It’s really quite embarrassing.”

‘Uhuh.’

“That good old fashioned do-nothing attitude at work, as always.”

‘You’re such a jerk.’ He shook his head with a small smile as he closed his eyes. ‘I can’t believe I’m in love with an asshole like you.’

...

“W-WHAT!?”

‘Jesus!’ Stanley shot back up, tired no longer. ‘What are you shouting for!?’

“You l-… you… you love…”

‘I what?’ He then realized in his haze of sleepiness he hadn’t thought it to himself, he had thought to the Narrator.

His eyes widened as he pushed away from the man. ‘I literally can’t stand you! I hate your guts!’

“St-”

‘Guts! Guts are spooky! That’s a good Halloween thing! Come on,’ he stood up, ‘let’s get to Halloweening!’

The Narrator grabbed his arm and yanked him back down onto the couch. The man’s eyes narrowed as he scolded, “Try again.”

…

Stanley sighed.

All these years he had been so good at pretending any flirting was just for fun, just silly nonsense to get his companion flustered. The man had his own strange way of doing the same to him after all.

But unfortunately, there was of course more to it than just silly nonsense for Stanley. And now it was clear.

The office worker scratched the back of his head. ‘I dunno, is it that big of a deal. I mean, don’t you already kinda know? Couldn’t you tell after all this time? And I knew you’d tease the hell out of me if it wasn’t like, ya know, mutual or whatever.’

“Of course it is, you dolt!” the Narrator clearly said without thinking as he slapped his hand over his mouth. “I-I mean… Oh, if this is some nasty prank, Stanley-”

Ignoring such a stupid comment Stanley crossed his arms. ‘So it is mutual!? You’re so annoying. Why didn’t you ever just tell me?’

“You didn’t tell me either! And besides, even if I’ve known you’ve felt these fluttery romance things before, even if they were seemingly directed at myself, that could simply be you feeling all of that and having no one else to really aim them towards. Aside from me. How could I know you honestly felt that way about me in return?”

Stanley put a hand to his head, he felt a headache coming on. This felt so familiar.

‘Narrator, you-’

Goddamn, it was a really bad headache.

“Stanley?”

‘I’m fine,’ the beat of pain was gone as soon as it had arrived so he ignored it and continued, ‘I was just gonna say... you aren’t some kinda last resort for me. I coulda just-’

Damn it!

He grabbed his head once more.

‘What the fuck?’

“You’ve never had a headache before. Hmm, that’s quite odd, Stanley. Perhaps... Ah! It might be because your body is trying to tell you it’s time to listen to your Narrator again!” He smiled, so sure of his solution.

Holding his head but pissed off enough to still confront his moron of a companion, the office worker thought, ‘So you don’t want me to tell you why I'm in love with a jerk like you?’

“Now, there’s no need to be snippy! And anyway, you’ve already told me… you… you’ve told me before, haven’t you?” He looked a bit confused.

‘I just told you right now?’

“No… I can remember you, some time ago... was it Christmas? No, no we've never celebrated Christmas, have we..."

He grabbed the Narrator's arms, held him as if he were afraid to lose him. 'Let me finish!' The words were so clear in Stanley's mind. 'I've heard plenty of voices in here! But yours is unfortunately my favorite- Ah!' But it hurt to think, it hurt so badly.

“You- you have said that to me before. Stanley, what... what is this? What’s going on? Have we said all of this before?”

‘How the hell should I know!’ He let go of his companion and grabbed his aching head once more as the disjointed memory fought to finish forming in his mind. ‘You just... make me feel that way sometimes. Not anyone else. Just you.’

He could feel the tears dripping from his eyes, the pain was so intense now.

“Perhaps… a reset-”

‘NO!’ Stanley sat up. ‘Not yet! Don't reset! I don’t… I don’t wanna forget.’

“Forget?” the Narrator asked, genuinely confused. “Stanley, you’ve-”

‘I know, I know,’ he still held his head, ‘I forget a lot of things, but I never forget a reset… It just feels like… maybe…’ he focused on the ground, tried to will away the pain.

“Alright, then. We’ll not reset yet.” The Narrator stood up, then clapped his hands loudly.

‘For fucks sake! Can you not!’ When he sat up to look at his companion there was a very serious look on the man’s face.

“Come along now, Stanley! That will be enough dilly-dallying for the day,” the Narrator said as held his hand out to him.

The office worker just looked at him. He was so fucking mad, how could anyone be so damn careless!?

But... then, he realized that maybe it wasn’t carelessness. Maybe it was moreso that “let’s get back on track” attitude of his, which could be so fucking annoying most of the time.

Right now, though, it was the most comforting thing in the world to Stanley.

The Narrator was staring him down, looking like he was ready to scold, looking like he was ready to write a painful death ending in response to the office worker’s insolence.

Looking like... he was ready to guide him.

Stanley wasn’t angry anymore, just curious.

And it was strange but the pain in his head subsided a little once he grabbed his companion's hand. His mind felt clear, not a thought to be found. He could only focus on the Narrator, the way the man was ready to adapt to this situation the same as he did with any other Stanley threw his way.

He could remember the fear in the Narrator’s voice when they first got to the last bit of the Confusion Ending. He was certain that fear was always still there, probably even heightened at the moment, as he saw Stanley slowly becoming the one to forget. Despite that fear, or maybe because of it, it was now the Narrator who was unwilling to stew in his own mind, at his own peril as he usually did. Perhaps it was the oddity of Stanley being the one losing himself for once. Or perhaps, the Narrator was just tired of sitting around.

Either way, it was significant, this swap of roles. As Stanley suffered the break down, the Narrator simply continued on. Because it was all he could do in response. Because he had to, because someone had to.

The Narrator was quick to tighten his grasp on Stanley’s hand as he pulled him along.

And Stanley followed without any hesitation. ‘What ending are we going to?’

“Well, I hate to say this but you leave me no choice, Stanley. I think we truly do need a bit of a break. Which means we will have to put the Downloadable Content on hold. I’ll certainly not have any of the Players out there knowing we were slacking off by making any of this nonsense ‘canon’.”

Stanley smiled to himself as he finally began to relax again.

“Onto the break room, where I’ve stored all sorts of fancy teas and snacks and such and we’ll make a nice little Halloween brunch of it. Don’t you think that sounds rather restful, Stanley?”

He nodded.

When Stanley thought about it- the parable, the game, hadn’t scared him in some time. There were a few of the endings that got to him the first time around. But now those were all just the normal daily things to him and the Narrator.

Then Ultra Deluxe came along and it truly hadn’t been kind to either of them. Which, in a sick sort of way, suited them quite well, as they weren’t exactly all that kind to each other a lot of the time either. However, in all of this, the office worker was surprised to find that there was something much more scary than this strange backstory the Narrator wrote for him. Something much more frightening than being frenemies on repeat for the rest of forever with the eccentric short-tempered being who created you.

There was something more permanent and painful and lonely.

He had finally felt what it was like to be abandoned. By choice or by happenstance. He supposed it made him feel more… human, more than just a video game character. And maybe the Narrator felt all of that too, as he had suffered the same in a few of those new endings. And now, also like the Narrator, he got to know what loosing your memory felt like, at least that's what he assumed was happening a bit ago, but for fear of more pain he wouldn't think on it more than that.

“Stanley?" The Narrator looked back at him curiously, “Don’t be lazy, you aren’t holding your head anymore, you must be feeling a bit better at least. So if you don’t mind could you keep up with my pace? I don’t want to have to drag you around like a rag doll.” He tugged the office worker along once more as he continued on.

Ultra deluxe was rather far behind them but Stanley couldn’t forget the ways it showed him just how intense real fear could truly be.

But right now, with the Narrator holding his hand and guiding him as he usually attempted to, Stanley didn’t feel scared at all. He hated to admit it, but he felt warm. He felt happy.

“I’m also quite sure that- AHUGH!” the Narrator shouted as he fell to the floor, taking Stanley down with him.

The office worker looked up to see a cardboard cutout had popped up in front of them. It was some green squarish looking monster.

He looked beside him on the floor, the Narrator was breathing heavily, his hand was held tightly to his chest, his face nearly white as a ghost.

At the sweet, sweet revenge... Stanley laughed.

“Th-that was...”

And he laughed some more.

“Stanley, it isn’t funny.”

And he laughed until tears were falling down his cheeks.

“As if you hadn’t been scared many more times today than just once!”

And when he finished laughing he wiped at his eyes then simply stared at the Narrator- the man’s arms were crossed and he had the grumpiest little pout on his face.

The office worker leaned over, grabbed his companion's shirt collar, and kissed him on the cheek.

“I- oh.”

‘There better be a buncha candy waiting for us in the break room. Otherwise this’ll be a pretty crappy Halloween.’

“There are many sugary sweets for consumption in the break room! Although, I could perhaps be swayed to add more...”

Stanley smiled, then pulled the man in for a kiss.

Chapter Text

Stanley opened his eyes. He was sitting in his office chair, his computer in front of him as always. He stood up and exited his office.

Looking around the communal office space he was not surprised to see it looking… snowy. The Narrator had mentioned wanting to run some Winter Fun DLC ideas by Stanley. Asking for his opinion, for once, before just throwing him into this new situation.

Stanley liked winter so he couldn't complain.

Winter Fun, though? What did that even mean? Sledding? Building snow forts?

Okay, that all sounded pretty great actually. But still, why not start with an actual holiday like Halloween or Christmas or Christmas or-

…

Hmm? Stanley felt a little strange.

He shook off the odd feeling as he looked around the office and was pleasantly surprised to see it filled with snow!

Wait… snow in an office building?

He bent down and pressed his fingers into it expecting a cold chill only to feel… paper. It was nothing more than paper that was cut up into tiny bits. And lining the walls were large poorly cut paper snowflakes.

This looked so cheesy, it kind of gave him a headache. Stanley was glad he’d never done anything as silly as this before.

Although, he wondered for a moment if he was any better at paper crafts than the Narrator was. He wondered if he could fold those little cranes or instead of cutting snowflakes, make some pretty paper star garland.

The Narrator would probably like stars since he seemed to like space a lot. At least, Stanley thought that was so, considering the spacey stuff in the Zending and the Insanity Ending. And then there’s the Silly Birds Ending so maybe he liked birds too? Which meant that paper cranes would also be a good fit!

...Hang on... A good fit? For what?

Stanley wasn’t even sure why any of that mattered right now? Why had he even thought it? Who cared about what the Narrator liked!

Regardless, he walked further into the communal office space and the Narrator began, “All of his coworkers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to head to the meeting room, perhaps he had simply missed a memo.”

He made his way through the offices to the usual drone of the Narrator’s words until he made it to the two doors room.

“When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he took the door on his left.”

This was pretty normal so far. All that seemed different were the bits of paper snow laying about.

Kind of boring if the DLC was just more of the same but with a few decorations thrown here and there.

He shook his head, then made his way towards the door on the left… then he stopped and pivoted towards the door on the right.

“Of course, of course. You simply must go through the lounge.”

Stanley ignored his whiny companion as he continued on.

Upon entering the lounge the Narrator sighed, “Ahh, the lounge. What better place to go when you want to annoy someone who was trying to do something nice for you? Especially when that someone does so much for you all of the time! The lounge truly is a wonderful place to be ungrateful.”

Stanley rolled his eyes. ‘I thought the DLC was for the Player, not for me?’

“It’s... you don’t understand anything about my game, do you, Stanley?”

The office worker shook his head. He was about to continue on but instead stopped. And for some reason he couldn’t fathom, he moved to stand in front of the pillar in the middle of the-

Hmm, there was no pillar there. No pillar, no note.

No note? Pink post-it note…

No... why had he thought that? Nothing was there. There had never been any of that.

...

Wait… any of what? He already forgot what he was thinking about, he could only feel that painful headache beating once more.

‘Jeez, I need to sit down.’ He made his way over to the-

‘Didn’t… wasn’t there a sofa over there?’

...

Within moments the thought, whatever it was, was gone.

How strange, although, he had been feeling a little tired lately. He wondered if the Narrator would let him take a rest from all these holiday DLCs… wait no, what these? From this, from this holiday DLC. It had been just this one so far.

He was already losing his mind over this stupid DLC idea it seemed.

With a sigh he made his way over to the table that was surrounded by armchairs and took a seat.

Would look a bit better over here if there was a sofa or something, he thought. And the thought brought back his headache.

‘Narrator?’

“Stanley, are you going to spend all day in here? Do you really not want to see the fun new Downloadable Content idea I’ve come up with?”

Ignoring him the office worker thought, ‘Is anything different in here? Does the lounge look normal?

“What? Of course it does. It looks the same as it always has!”

Stanley frowned as he wondered why it felt a little off in here.

“Although, now that you mention it-”

He perked up.

“There's a messy spot on the side of that armchair you’re sitting in. Have you spilled coffee there when I wasn’t looking, Stanley?”

All he could do was sigh. After a moment of rest, he got up and continued on out of the lounge and down the hallway. Stopping only when he got to the door that lead to maintenance.

Before entering, however, he glanced down the hall at the door leading to the warehouse. And for no reason he could discern… he not only felt like going swimming but also suddenly wondered what sand tasted like.

Weird.

He tried to ignore that as he continued on to the meeting room.

In an unusual turn of events... the door to the meeting room was shut. Strange. He eyed it curiously, then eyed the ceiling. After a moment of quiet he grabbed the handle and slowly turned it, then threw the door open and-

It was the meeting room. Same as always. He didn’t know what he expected or why he expected anything at all.

The office worker was suddenly jolted out of his thoughts by that oh so familiar voice.

“Stanley decided to go take a look in the boss’ restroom.”

He didn’t even think on it, didn’t feel like thinking too much again. So he carried on and once he got to the restroom the narration continued again.

“Upon entering the restroom he was flooded with memories that he held very dear. Like, for instance, collecting that one Figley! Or the first time he went through the New Content door! Or perhaps he was thinking of the warmest memory of all- the Memory Zone. A most serene and peaceful place that was created by the Narrator so lovingly in remembrance of the original Stanley Parable- a wonderful, perfect as-is game that was released in 2013.”

The office worker walked up to the mirror and touched the photo of the Memory Zone.

After crawling through the vent, then the cathedral, he stepped into the great outdoors. Or, you know, a simulation of outdoors.

However, unlike usual, it was… snowing?

“Stanley stood on the snow, and he gazed in awe at his new surroundings. It seemed that a chill wind had brought winter to the Memory Zone. He was about to make his way to the Cabin of Memories when he noticed that the little fenced in path had an opening. ‘Surely that must be important,’ he thought as he followed this new path.”

And he did.

The snow crunched softly beneath his feet. This felt so… familiar. But he had never seen real snow before, had he? Or, you know, real-ish.

He walked along in the cold, arms wrapped tightly around himself as he took in an icy breath. Fresh as peppermint, he thought. And he loved peppermint. He couldn’t believe he forgot to grab a candy cane.

…

Candy cane? What on earth made him think that? Ugh and that damn headache was coming back. Stanley sighed as he-

‘AHH SHIT!’

He was suddenly hit in the back of his head by something freezing cold.

With a shiver he quickly turned around and just as soon another ball of pure cold hit him in the face.

He quickly wiped the snow off and standing before him was the Narrator some little ways away.

‘You get to have a coat and earmuffs? A scarf even?? All I’ve got is my work-shirt, I’m freezing over here!!’ he thought as he dodged another snowball and scowled at the man who threw it.

“I thought you could take the cold, Stanley. But if you’re going to whine about it,” he took off one of his gloves and snapped his fingers, “fine.”

The office worker suddenly felt warm. Looking down he noticed he was wearing a coat now. On his ears he felt the fluff of ear muffs and his hands were covered in nice warm gloves.

“You know,” the Narrator began, “I did quite a bit of research to get this ‘Winter Fun’ Downloadable Content just right, Stanley. Unfortunately, I’ve only seen fun ideas that I’d like to try for myself- in person. Which isn't ideal for my ‘man alone in an office’ game.”

‘Seriously? You-’

“However,” the Narrator ignored him as he continued, “one of the most important things about winter, as I’ve read, are fights with balls of snow. It seems to consist of rolling up a ball of snow then throwing it at your friends… and enemies,” he eyed Stanley pointedly.

“I can’t imagine why getting a ball of what is essentially soft ice thrown in your face would be fun… is what I initially thought! But I must admit I can now see the merits. This was immensely satisfying. From the throwing end of the argument at least. Receiving didn’t look so pleasant I must say.”

‘Why are you wearing a coat and all that anyway? Your skin is usually kinda cold already.’ Stanley took one glove off and turned away from him, moving down to press his hand into the snow- still a bit fascinated with the very concept of it and how it actually looked and felt.

Crunchy, icey cold and sparkling in the dimming sunlight.

It was nice. It was different.

”Yes, but you see,” the Narrator blathered on yet again, “this is a special occasion, so I- ...Well, I did my best to adjust my normal body temperatures to match an actual humans, such as yourself, a bit better. Normally, it takes a lot of effort, don’t know why,” he looked curiously down at his gloved hands, “but I might as well try it just this once so I can experience snow and winter as a human would. And I have to say, it’s really not so bad,” he straightened out his jacket and scarf in a fond manner.

‘So you’re warm for once?’ Stanley had been turned away as he brushed his fingers through the snow on the ground.

Turning back around he could see that his question had brought a sour look upon on the Narrator’s face.

“I’m not that cold normally. You exaggerate much too much!”

‘Lemme see,’ the office worker stood and held his still ungloved left hand out.

“What?” The Narrator looked at Stanley’s hand. “Why?” he asked, suspicious of his companion.

‘Usually it takes a bit for you to warm up-’

“And is that,” the Narrator said with a tinge of sadness in his voice, “is that bothersome to you?”

‘Nah, I like it.’

Stanley knew he could be a little too straight-forward sometimes, a little too blunt. He did try to be more careful when it came to certain more genuine things he felt towards his companion, but sometimes no thought at all went into what he said- well, thought.

And this was one of those times. It was just a simple fact to him- he liked how the Narrator’s touch felt. He not only liked that icy cool sensation, he also enjoyed being the one to warm him up by just holding his hand.

When he looked up he noticed the Narrator was blushing deep red.

Oh, he loved that.

‘Come on, lemme see how warm you think humans ‘normally’ are.’

“Well, I’m going by you so, admittedly not a great start.”

The Narrator sighed but relented as he took one of his gloves off again and placed his hand in Stanley's.

He was warm. Not remarkably so, but it was enough to be noticeably different for him.

Stanley flattened his own hand against the Narrator’s.

He could feel his own face prickling with heat as he noticed how much bigger and thicker the Narrator’s hand was than his own. His skin tone, the feel of him- he was so different than Stanley in so many ways. And yes, that had always been very apparent in their height and weight differences alone, but actually feeling the man added so much more to it.

Oftentimes the office worker could hear the tap tapping that came from using a keyboard on a computer coming from the ceiling, but sometimes he could also hear the skritch skritching of pencil on paper. So he wasn’t surprised to see the light traces of left over graphite on the man’s right hand that he now held.

And sure, they’d grabbed each other’s hands before, many times in fact, but Stanley had never really took the time to just look at them. Feel them.

‘And this means…you can feel cold more realistically now, right?’ he wondered.

The Narrator nodded as he stared at their hands, mesmerized as he watched Stanley move to press his thumb in the Narrator’s palm.

Cold or warm, the office worker didn’t really care, he just enjoyed the feeling of another living being. Especially when that being was the strange man in the ceiling he was obsessed with, who was just as obsessed with him.

Now, the hand Stanley kept behind his back was gloved but had become achingly cold. So he took a deep breath, then smashed the ball of snow he’d been holding into the Narrator’s own bare hand-

“AH! STANLEY!!!”

Then he ran!

He ran and ran and... realized that he had never had to run before. Honestly, the experience was sort of... fun!

Unfortunately, it was also painful as hell. While Stanley was certainly thin, that didn't mean he was physically fit. So he found himself running out of breath already. His chest and throat were beginning to sting with pain. Not to mention, quickly breathing in the ice cold air was also not the best feeling. He kept at it, though, and kept running until he saw a big tree a little ways ahead of him. He hoped it was big enough for hiding behind.

In the distance he could hear the Narrator shouting his name still, though he sounded far off.

Stanley wasn’t really afraid of the Narrator or anything like that. Maybe he was a bit at first, forever and ever ago. But nowadays he knew the man well enough.

He knew that there wasn’t really a fear for his life here, in this moment, because his companion wasn’t the hands-on physically violent type. He was more of a hands off video game death, or mind games death kind of guy. Which suited Stanley just fine because- well, a lot of those times it was funny! And sure, while in human form, the Narrator may push, grab, and toss the office worker around here and there, but he never raised a hand to physically hurt him.

And there was something in that. Something that reminded Stanley of the truth behind their situation, as he knew it at least.

The Narrator wasn’t a human but he was a writer. A writer who was constantly frustrated with his disobedient protagonist. He’d get so easily frustrated to the point of writing these silly death endings, which sucked at first, but nowadays Stanley (as previously mentioned) thought they were pretty funny! The unfunny deaths still only ended up feeling like an annoyingly over the top slap on the wrist. But in the end, the Narrator was still kind of just... some guy, just a frustrated artist. Not particularly evil or anything like that. He was over the top and silly, dorky and strange. So very whiny and could get so mean sometimes... but, he was so fucking funny about it.

It really all lent to making Stanley want to piss him off all the more.

Anyway, at the moment, Stanley knew that once that busybody found him he would either give the office worker a stern talking to or throw some petty words at him while threatening to write him into a death ending.

Whatever, it was worth it. This was an entirely new sort of feeling, a new sort of fun. Being able to run away from him like this. He'd go so far as to say it was sort of thrilling!

...Minus the heavy breathing, legs aching, etcetera etcetera.

He slid down the side of the tree he had been resting up against and sat in the snow. Without having snow pants on, sitting in that nice and icy white stuff did not feel very good! He still had to sit, though.

He watched as his breath came out in little clouds before him. His eyes were then drawn up to the tall trees all around. Some hadn’t made it through winter and others had snow covering the tops. And through the top most trees was a gleam of the setting sunlight shining on every bit of snow all around, giving that stark white around him a light rosy tint. 

It was so freaking cold, but it was so… calm. So serene. Stanley would lose his mind if it was this calm all the time, but maybe sitting back and taking in his surroundings every once in a while wasn’t so bad.

God he was still so fucking tired from running. He really needed to work out- huh, that was… a familiar thought. He’d never thought about exercising before, though, had he?

“Stanley!”

The office worker jolted from his thoughts, then sighed.

“Stanley! How dare you treat me this way! You have absolutely no respect at all for your oldest, dearest, and only friend- if I’d even allow you to call me that after this bit of nonsense. Really, you should be ashamed of yourself, acting like a child! You know, I could easily turn this into a death ending.” His hands were on his hips and he-

Cold.

“Stanley?”

‘Can you help me up? My ass is freezing.’

“Wha- what? ...Well why in heavens name are you sitting in the snow?” He reached a hand down and Stanley took it.

‘Tired.’ The office worker squinted in pain. Tired, cold, icey cold. God so cold. And tired.

“Stanley,” the Narrator had seemed to forget his anger and went back to his usual more calm scolding, “we don’t get tired.”

The Narrator looked as though he were actually a little tired himself, but the man would certainly not admit it.

Stanley took a step forward but- ‘Wet, cold,’ he nearly whined in his mind. He was not used to this feeling at all.

“Oh, dear,” the Narrator whispered as he looked at Stanley’s backside. “That is why you shouldn’t sit in snow, love. ...Oh- I,” the Narrator covered his mouth as his cheeks turned red.

Stanley could feel the tips of his ears prickling with heat at the term of endearment.

But calling someone love was just a thing British people did sometimes, right? It didn’t have to mean anything. Well, it wouldn’t, if the Narrator had ever done so before. In the past the man had tossed out a “sport”, a “cowboy”, a “Jim”, but never-

‘Ah,’ Stanley held his head as that stupid deja vu headache came back with a vengeance.

“Uhm, a headache should not be brought about by a sense of deja vu, Stanley. Not to mention, you’ve never had a headache before. Hmm, that’s quite odd. Perhaps... Ah! It might be because your body is trying to tell you it’s time to listen to your Narrator again!” He smiled, so sure of his solution.

‘I- wait. What?’

“What?”

Stanley… felt scared. And he couldn’t even pinpoint why.

“Come along now, Stanley! That will be enough dilly-dallying,” the Narrator said as held his hand out to him. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I can’t have my protagonist looking a mess or being sick or anything like that.”

The office worker just looked at him. ‘You don’t… feel weird right now?’

“Not anymore than usual, no.”

Stanley didn’t know what to do, so as he did in every situation when he wasn’t sure what to do next, he simply went with the new narrative.

The headache slowly subsided once he took the Narrator’s hand and they continued on down the path.

“You know,” the Narrator began, “I’m sorry to say this, Stanley, but how ever terrible you’re feeling right now is probably a bit of well-deserved karma for what you normally put me through.”

Stanley ignored him as he took in their surroundings. He didn’t recognize this part of the Memory Zone- it looked to be mostly forest.

But then he saw a little ways ahead of them was a fancy dark wood cabin.

“We’ll get you cleaned up in a jiff, then back to trying to figure out this new ‘Winter Fun’ Downloadable Content!”

The office worker nodded as he tried to ignore the feeling of chill in his entire body- he was wet and cold and the biting pain was getting worse as the winds picked up and the sun went down-

Huh, time of day in the Memory Zone? That was a nice touch.

“Oh, you really think so? You see, Stanley, I was thinking-” he cut himself off and stopped in his tracks, just staring at Stanley now.

‘What?’

“You do look… rather tired. I’ve never seen you tired before.”

‘Well, I-’

“Oh, Stanley! You have gone and gotten yourself sick, haven’t you? Don’t expect me to nurse you back to health! Waiting on you hand and foot or any of that nonsense, hmph.” The Narrator continued on, dragging the office worker with him.

‘Hey, if you want this DLC to just be me dying of frostbite...”

“Hmm, now that you mention it, there’s an interesting idea!”

Stanley gave him a mean look as he took his hand back and walked the rest of the way to the cabin on his own.

He wasn’t really all that mad, just… kind of tired, yeah.

Soon enough he made it to the cabin and threw open the front door. Just as soon he heard the Narrator shout, catching up already.

“Stanley! Stanley, I was only kidding!”

He ignored the man as he walked inside the cabin and- ‘Whoa.’

When he looked around the place- it was incredible. Rich and fancy looking. There was a large open kitchen to the right and to the left a nice cozy living room.

The Narrator quickly took off his winter wear then hung it all up on a nearby coat rack.

He was wearing… a fancy looking sweater vest that suited him so well. He looked pretty damn-

The Narrator raised an eyebrow.

-okay. He looked okay.

“Oh, really? Just ‘okay’? Because I’m quite certain you-”

‘Hey,’ Stanley very purposefully interrupted, ‘couldn’t you just have pixelated your coat and stuff away? Why did you take them off so normally?’

“I… Hmm, I suppose I could have… Ah- well, never mind it!” He walked up to Stanley. “Just stand still.”

He leaned into the office worker’s space, lightly touching the coat he was wearing. As he slid his finger down, the coat vanished in a small wave of pixels.

Stanley could see his gloves had gone with it, and could also feel his earmuffs were gone now too.

‘Ah?’ 

His companion's finger poked into his chest lightly, and as he slid it down Stanley’s chest the office worker could feel his old shirt either instantly being replaced with a new one, or simply drying all the way up.

Well, he would have felt that if he wasn’t so intensely focused on the Narrator touching him in such a way. And it wasn’t a particularly steamy or romantic touch or anything like that. It just made him feel warm. It put a sort of physical feeling to all of that attention the Narrator usually focused on Stanley.

He would have thought more on this but he suddenly felt the Narrator’s finger on his hip now, slowly sliding down his thigh.

Now this touch… this felt light, but he could still feel the pressure. This was somewhere the Narrator had never touched him before and the thought and the feeling made his stomach flutter and his skin tingle with heat.

“S-stanley?”

‘Hmm?’ his mind felt so warm and fuzzy.

“Are you,” the Narrator gave a nervous little cough, “ahem- are you, all... alright now? All dry?”

Stanley felt his hand being lifted, being held. It snapped him out of his stupor. 

He looked down and realized- this had to be the first time he was cold and the Narrator was warm.

“Oh, dreadfully cold. Is this what I normally feel like to you?”

He shook his head. No, this was a lot more severe. The chill of the Narrator’s skin was never this cold.

“Hmm,” the Narrator placed one of his hands below Stanley’s then the other on top.

He was so warm now.

‘So, um… a snowy cabin, huh?’ Stanley tried to talk his way out of that mushy shit he was starting to feel at all of this new touch from his companion.

“Yes, a nice snowy cabin! Sometimes you just want to get away from it all,” the Narrator mumbled, still focused on rubbing his hands over Stanley’s.

The office worker wanted to melt into a puddle at such pure focus being on him in person like this, rather than just coming from somewhere in the ceiling like usual. Not to mention, it was a focus that was only on him right now, rather than the story.

‘...Is this a get away from the constant reminder we’re stuck in the parable or-’

“Well that's nice too, but I moreso meant the cacophony of voices that make up that cruel cruel world called... ‘the internet’,” he said with some disdain.

‘The internet seems like a pretty fun place to me.’

“Hmph, I should never have given you access to it. The amount of nonsense lies you’ve spread about our game.” He shook his head as he let go of Stanley’s hand and grabbed his other, rubbing gently to warm that one too.

A shiver came over the office worker when the Narrator grabbed his colder hand and began warming it. But after the moment settled it was that little detail of the Narrator saying ‘our game’ rather than ‘my game’ that made his stomach do a little flip.

“Not to mention, you’re terrible at online Scrabble. It was as if you weren’t even trying.”

And then Stanley was brought back to reality, a little aggravated at that stupid Scrabble game being drudged up again.

‘Are you mad I lost? You woulda been pissed if I won!’

“You could never have won against me, but giving me more of a challenge would have been nice.”

‘God, here we go again. You wouldn’t shut up while we were playing either. I woulda played better if you weren’t basically backseat gaming the entire time! For your opponent even, who does that!’

“You’ve no idea what to do if I don’t push you in the right direction.”

Stanley looked away, refusing to respond.

His attention was quickly grabbed again by the Narrator bringing both of his hands together over both of Stanley’s own in what felt like a sort of embrace.

The office worker really took in now just how funny this little swap of roles was. The Narrator being the one to warm Stanley up. And he wondered, for a moment, if this was how the Narrator felt whenever Stanley would grab his hand.

“No, your hands are obviously quite different than my own.” He rubbed his hands over Stanley’s softly. “Look at these ridiculously long thin fingers. You truly could have died out there in the cold if I hadn’t gotten you. You needed my warmth,” he hummed without much thought.

The words were maybe not meant to be as deep as they sounded, but they still hit Stanley like a monster truck- ...like a truck.

“But I couldn’t just leave you out there, even if you deserved it. Can’t have you freezing to death if I didn’t write it that way, you know. Though, do keep in mind, Stanley, that I’ll warm you now but next time- oh, no, next time you’re on your own!”

The office worker could hardly think, he just wanted more. And his next thought just poured out.

‘Will you warm all of me?’

“A-all?” the Narrator choked out in shock.

‘All.’ Stanley took his hands from the warmth of the Narrator’s and cupped his own over his companion’s.

“Uhm… m-mind the game’s rating, Stanley,” his gaze went to the floor.

‘The game isn’t on right now.’ Stanley didn’t know why he was suddenly feeling so daring, but having sudden moments of stupid bravery was nothing new to him.

“Ah, yes, true! Very true! Which is precisely why we should spend this time perfecting this new Winter Fun idea!”

The office worker sighed. If the Narrator wasn’t ready for more, or was just really that focused on his work... then fine, alright.

Although...

‘Wait, “we”?’

“Hmm? ‘We’ what? What about ‘we’?”

Stanley held back a laugh, ‘”We should spend time perfecting this idea”, that’s what you’re saying.’

“Ah, uhm.”

‘So you invited me here to help you write an ending?’

“Let’s not get carried away now, Stanley. You are here to practice run my ideas! I- I don’t need your help writing them.” He gained a nice little grumpy pout as he pulled his hands back to himself.

‘Wow, so you're asking me for help to write a new ending, huh? I feel like this is probably the closest you’d ever get to a proposal or something.’ If the Narrator wasn’t ready to be serious about whatever the hell was between them, then back to teasing it was.

“I beg your pardon!?”

‘Are you gonna get down on your knees for me?’

“...W-What!?!”

‘And propose. What’re you yelling for?’

“Stanley, for godsake it’s knee! You get down on one knee to propose! And no! Nothing of the sort!”

‘I'm just sayin, this is pretty romantic for you.’

“Is it? I-I hadn’t really noticed. However, if you’re trying to imply that I’m trying to be romantic towards you of all people, well… you are sorely mistaken.”

Hmm, there was something odd about how Stanley was feeling today.

He was pretty sure he hadn’t ever fully confessed his stupid feelings to the Narrator, but for some reason he felt like he… definitely had? He felt like he could just kiss the man right now and that would be fine and normal because it was something they had done so many times before.

They definitely hadn’t, though. They hadn't. And there was never any cheesy ass confessions of love between them either. But Stanley knew- he knew the Narrator could hear most of these loose thoughts of his right now and even then he still didn’t feel embarrassed about it for some reason.

He looked his companion over. The man was standing before him looking like a deer in the headlights. His face was deep red now and he looked a bit surprised but not upset.

That was a good sign, right?

‘You heard most of what I was thinking just now, yeah?’

The Narrator nodded.

‘So, back to what I said earlier- the game isn’t on right now.’

The Narrator nodded again.

‘But if you’re still feeling too shy or you really would rather work on a new ending instead-’

The Narrator sighed in exasperation, “Oh, for god’s sake just kiss me already!”

That… gave Stanley pause. He felt as if he had definitely heard the Narrator say that to him before. Word for word.

“Stanley?”

He shook off the strange feeling. Fine, whatever. Forget the deja vu, he needed this.

Stanley grabbed the Narrator's face and pressed their lips together. It was a soft kiss, a gentle brushing of lips. It felt as if... they had done this so many times before-

But they hadn’t.

They hadn’t.

...

What about on Christmas, though? No- no, they’ve never done a Christmas ending… Maybe it was Halloween? Wait, what Halloween? Uhh… Valentine’s-

The dull headache that had been sitting in the back of his mind for most of this reset suddenly hit again with a sharp pain, causing him to pull away from the kiss.

“Stanley?”

‘Headache, again, sorry.’ He held his head.

“From kissing me?” the Narrator whined with a pout.

Stanley tried to clear his mind, ‘No, idiot. Anyways, never mind it. I’m, uh, I’m okay now. I think. So,’ he tried to continue casually, ‘I always knew you had a soft spot for me.’

The Narrator sighed with a grumpy little huff. “Stanley, I am not your enemy! ...Most of the time.”

‘Ha! Uh, just some of the time, huh? ...A quarter of the time even?’ He shook his head as he winced in pain at that needling headache once more.

“Stanley, you’re beginning to worry me. Well, you always worry me, but this is a bit… different.”

Stanley stumbled over to the nearby living room and made his way to the much too fancy couch.

“That is a very expensive sofa, Stanley! Don’t just throw yourself onto it like that!”

The office worker looked down at the couch. It didn’t actually look so expensive. It was dark blue and sort of blocky, looked uncomfortable but wasn’t too bad. This thing would’ve fit nicely in the... lounge.

…

He rubbed his hand against the material, stiff but not unpleasant. Familiar, so familiar. And then his hands flew back up to his head in pain.

“Stanley, you are ruining my new Downloadable Content practice run! You’re supposed to be helping me with this awful writer’s block I have! Not making everything about yourself and your oh so special headaches that you keep getting all the time! Nearly every holiday so far you’ve- …Wait. Wait a moment, you’ve never had a headache before and... we’ve never celebrated any other holidays.”

Bending forward on the couch Stanley rested his elbows on his knees, he covered his face in his hands.

“Stanley, what's going on here? Have you done something to the game?”

‘Something is happening, I don’t know what.’

“Should I… Should I perhaps restart-”

‘NO!’

The office worker had only “shouted” the word in his mind, but the Narrator still flinched.

A few awkward moments passed by, neither knowing what to say, before the Narrator took a seat beside Stanley.

“I’m not sure why you’re suddenly so averse to a reset?”

Stanley… wasn’t sure why either. Something was terribly wrong right now. Something that was very different than the usual terribly wrong.

“What could it be?” the Narrator wondered. “The developers perhaps?”

‘I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like a normal game thing, I mean the game is off. Maybe we’re being affected by something else? God or fate or whatever.’

The Narrator shook his head. “I doubt any God has anything to do with this. Mostly because this was a creation of my making… unless you are implying that since I am the God of this place that this is all my fault.”

Stanley would’ve liked to respond with something properly snarky but he suddenly felt a little dizzy, a little hot.

‘Can… are your hands still warm? Can you make them cold again?’

“Stanley, after all the time I took to-” he looked the office worker over and sighed as he snapped his fingers. “There,” the Narrator said in a whiny pout. “Back to the usual.”

‘I like the usual.’

“So you say,” the Narrator whispered to himself, sounding unconvinced.

‘And I mean it.’

Stanley moved to grab the Narrator’s hand and it was cool and felt so good against his burning skin.

Minutes went by as they sat there, Stanley’s hand wrapped in the Narrator’s. It helped ease his pain a good bit.

Unfortunately, his headache still persisted.

Stanley took a deep breath, tried to focus on the window a little ways away from them. He stared at the falling snow.

“You know, Stanley," the Narrator suddenly piped up, "it can be nice to just take a little break every now and again. To sit and fully contemplate our place in life. To think of what life out there must be like.”

The office worker nodded.

He hadn’t seen much in the Epilogue, just desert. And even that could have very well still been part of the game. He wasn’t sure.

Vast, dusty desert as far as the eye could see. Walking forever without a guide, and it hurt. And it hurt to acknowledge that it hurt. Not to mention, thinking about it seemed to aggravate his headache far worse than he previously thought possible.

This was not a normal headache by any means. It was a low hum of something familiar but so strange and messy, dark, so dark and lost but not particularly caring to be found.

What-

"Stanley?"

The sudden stab of intense and unusual pain subsided when he heard his name. He turned to look at the man sitting beside him.

He almost... well, he wanted to... thank the Narrator, all of the sudden. For being there. For saying his name so often.

Despite all the man's faults and complaining over every little thing the office worker ever did... he still just... wanted a happy ending for Stanley. Even if that meant he thought he knew how best to make that a reality. Even if he was wrong half of the time.

Stanley and the Narrator didn’t always get along so well, of course, but their arguments, the bickering, and exploring the parable and whatever stories the Narrator made up together- it all made the office worker feel more real. Made him feel like he had purpose in a weird way he was probably never meant to.

Stanley’s life could and very well should be awful. It should be awful, and painful, and lonely... but it wasn’t. Because he wasn't just stuck in a loop alone, he had company. And that company turned out to be not only his worse enemy but somehow grew to be his... best friend.

Which was, perhaps, even more embarrassing to admit to than being in love with him.

“Stanley, you look… conflicted, and I can’t hear your thoughts. What are you thinking about? Hiding something from me, hmm? Plotting to ruin this Downloadable Content idea of mine, I suppose?”

The office worker smiled and shook his head, ‘Nah. I was just thinking that maybe you’re right. For once. Maybe we could use more big change of pace endings like this.’

“Ah.”

Stanley looked back out the window at the snow falling. Knowing it was just an illusion gave him the feeling of being in a snow globe, and breathing in the chilly air felt nice. Fresh as peppermint, he thought. And he... loved... peppermint.

What the hell?

The headache beat to life once more, but at least it wasn't as bad as when he thought about the Epil-

‘Fuck.’ Both hands flew up to his head, holding it in agony. The pain was absolutely excruciating now, he could feel tears he hadn’t even known were there now falling from his eyes.

“Stanley?”

And he felt hot, so hot. Nearly itchy with this painful heat under his skin.

“Should I turn the heater down? Not that I had it up very high, mind you, but-

The office worker grabbed the Narrator’s hand once more. This time he held it against his own cheek. He closed his eyes as he pushed the man’s cool skin against his own that was now prickling with mean heat.

“I’m not…” the Narrator moved his other hand up to Stanley’s forehead, “quite sure how to tell if you’re sick or not. Uhm…”

Stanley suddenly felt the Narrator’s other hand on his other cheek, the man was now cupping his face and it felt so good but it still wasn't enough.

The office worker opened his eyes and looked at his companion. ‘Tell me what to do,’ he pushed himself to form the thought through such pain. His mind was so muddled, aching, and running through strange disjointed memories he wasn’t sure were even real.

“What?”

‘Please,’ the tears that pricked at his eyes began to fall, ‘if this is happening because I’m doing something wrong, then tell me what’s right. Tell me what I’m supposed to do. Tell me what to do.’

“Stanley, I don’t think…” the Narrator’s voice trembled, “I don’t know what’s causing this. And you’re- you’re truly worrying me. Stanley, you must let me-”

‘Don’t. Don’t reset.’ He placed his hands over the Narrator’s, still cupping his face.

“I don’t know what else to do... Please don't... please stop this."

This was far from the first time the Narrator didn’t know what to do. Far from the first time he had cried for Stanley. But the office worker wasn't sure he'd heard the man sound this scared before. He knew there had been other times but, every thought felt so blurry now, he couldn't remember them.

“If you let me reset, I’ll write any sort of ending you’d like.”

Hah, gimme a break, Stanley thought through the pain. Because seriously- yeah right.

“I am serious! I am as serious as I was in the serious room!”

‘Huh,’ having a little laugh at the Narrator was actually making him feel a bit better. So he played along as best he could without thinking too much. ‘How about letting me redecorate the office?’

“Absolutely not.”

‘What about… a picnic under the stars?’ He had to try not to laugh at how silly that one sounded.

“In the Zen Room?”

‘No, those are more like fireworks or whatever. I meant real stars. Or, you know, real-ish.’

“That has to be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. What Player in the world would want an ending like this?”

‘These are ending suggestions? I thought they were just for me? Like when the games off.’

“Oh… right. Well, then, I suppose I could put a pin in it. Jot those down and perhaps a few actual good ideas for you. And I am sorry to say, but you certainly need to get out more if those are your best suggestions, Stanley.”

The office worker smiled, then sighed. He pulled the Narrator’s hands off of himself and laid back against the couch.

“Stanley?”

He hated losing the feel of that cool touch, and just… the Narrator’s touch at all. But he had to lay back. He was feeling dizzy again and hot, so hot. He pulled at his shirt.

‘Am I dying?’

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time,” he teased. But then his tone immediately shifted to something soft, concerned, “And it certainly won't be the last.”

The office worker couldn’t really focus on what his companion was saying, but then he heard that familiar tone-

“Stanley decided he needed guidance. So he laid his head against the back of the sofa and listened.”

He did so.

“Stanley sat on the sofa and stared out the window. In the darkness of night he could still so clearly see the snow, slowly drifting about. He watched, mesmerized. And in doing so, he began to feel a bit drowsy. The low hum of the fireplace crackling beside him only made the entire scene so much warmer, so much cozier. He yawned as his eyelids began to droop. Content in letting his body rest up, for just a little while at least… he fell asleep.”

… … ...

It was a foggy blurred image in his mind. A scene that felt so far off, somewhat familiar, but something not quite all there.

He saw himself slamming the door on the right shut.

‘How do you feel about that!? Is that better!? Now you can tell me what to do over and over and over and-’

“Then the walls suddenly started shaking around him! Crumbling into dust and debris. Slowly caving in on Stanley. Soon he would die a very slow painful death.”

‘Why are you such an asshole!? Why do I NEED to get the Freedom Ending right now? Because you’re having some kind of existential crisis for the eight millionth time? Why is that my problem?!’

Everything froze, even the crumbling bits of wall stood still in the air.

“Stanley,” the Narrator began, clearly trying to calm his anger, trying to keep his voice steady, “I just want... I just want you to get the correct ending because it’s what you need.”

‘I need fake freedom?! And why is a happy ending even the “correct” ending if you hate me so much?’

“I don’t hate you, you little-” he stopped, taking what sounded like a few deep breaths. Then in something of a tired near sob he sighed, “Why, why are you being so difficult today?”

It gave Stanley pause. He wondered why the Narrator had gone from such extreme anger to sadness so suddenly. Not totally strange for him but...

To be honest, maybe the office worker felt a little bad for not having done the Freedom Ending in so long, but… why did it matter so much? Why did he have to?

‘Just tell me! Tell me why you need me to do the Freedom Ending again so bad!’

The Narrator’s anger was back in full force as he growled, “Why do you suddenly need answers from me, Stanley? Since when have I ever been one to give any answers!?”

‘Answer me now or I’ll just go jump-’

“IT’S BECAUSE I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU TWIT!!!”

…

All was silent.

And Stanley could only focus on the bits of wall still floating in front of him in a sort of infinite pause. He couldn’t look back at the ceiling, not with the prickling heat in his face that was very probably making him look red as a tomato now.

“I… Oh god.”

Stanley couldn't know what caused the Narrator to lash out on any given day, so he certainly couldn't know why the man had such an outburst just now. Had he maybe just realized what he felt... and he hated it? Had he felt this way for years and just couldn't take it anymore?

Stanley, very carefully, started, ‘You want… me to get the Freedom Ending because… you love me?’ He felt some strange mixture of excitement and nausea.

Nausea because, he couldn’t tell exactly how the Narrator meant to use the word 'love'. And excitement that he might mean it the way Stanley hoped he had meant it.

His companion suddenly spoke again, in a near whisper, “I... feel a bit strange lately, Stanley. It's as though... I'm forgetting more often than usual lately but I can't be sure because I can't remember. ...And I just- I want you to be free. I want us both to be free.”

‘But it’s not real freedom...’

“Anything is possible in here. It may very well one day become true freedom.”

‘You don’t know that,’ he thought as his heart began to ache. He always knew the Narrator had some strange sort of care for him, but to know it ran so deep... and that he was trying to hard to get Stanley to follow the story because he thought it might somehow save him- save them.

“I- I don’t… I don’t know how else to... Stanley-”

‘Do you really… love me?’

“Please, please go through the door on the left,” he nearly whimpered.

And without anymore questions, he continued through the door on the left.

And then Stanley woke up at his desk.

… … ...

‘We can't keep doing this! I don’t wanna wait anymore.’

“Wait? Stanley, as usual, I have absolutely no idea what on earth you’re talking about.”

He softly grabbed the Narrator’s arms and the man didn’t even flinch, just looked at him in question.

‘Can't you just... say it.’ Stanley thought. ‘Just say it.’

“...I… I really, truly have no idea what you’re-”

‘I already know how you feel, but I need you to say it.’

“…”

The Narrator remained silent, his cheeks were deep red as he stared at Stanley in a mixture of shock, shyness, and embarrassment.

It was probably only seconds that passed, by but it felt like an eternity.

...

And that was his answer.

Of course the Narrator’s unwillingness to admit that change could be good in any situation would make him hesitate.

Stanley sighed as he loosened his grip, letting his hands lazily slide down his companion’s arms until he let go of him completely. His gaze following his own hands, unable to look the Narrator in the eye anymore.

‘I feel like… I’ve told you before. Maybe I have some weird fake memories or something, maybe my backstory is messing with me in some way? I don’t know. I just know that I wanna tell you, again if I haven’t yet, and I want-’ 

When he finally felt he could look his companion in the eyes once more, the Narrator looked conflicted. It was clear he wanted this- this change in their relationship. He wanted it as badly as Stanley did, but... he was afraid of change. Or maybe he wasn’t ready, so he held back.

And that… was something. That was more than nothing, but it wasn’t what Stanley wanted and it wasn’t what he needed right now.

‘I think you should restart,’ Stanley continued, and he didn’t know why but he had become a bit worried about resets lately. They stopped bothering him so very long ago, but recently… something felt off about them.

Anything was better than this, though.

“Stanley, I…” the Narrator sighed.

And then Stanley woke up at his desk.

… … ...

"You know Stanley, from what I've recently read on the internet, it seems Christmas time is fast approaching! Which got me thinking: wouldn't it be fun if we had some new downloadable content for the holidays! And not just Christmas, I’ve got many ideas in mind.”

‘We’ve never celebrated any holidays before, why start now?’

“Well, because… it’s fun! It’s cheery! The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe put a lot of things into perspective for me, Stanley. And I think you’ll agree, it’s about time we really start putting in the effort here.”

...

‘Here?’

“Yes- oh! That’s right, you can’t see me when I’m not down there. I was gesturing back and forth between myself and you.”

Stanley bit back the smile forming on his lips. The Narrator was such a nerd.

“I most certainly am not a nerd, Stanley!”

‘So what about “us” is it that you wanna put more effort into?’

“For starters, I think celebrating the holidays may be the key to bringing us a sense of... ahhh, oh how to put it? Uhm... shared peace- I think is a good way of wording it. Bit of down time from all the trauma, I suppose you could say," he said in an almost comically casual tone, given the content. "Second... well, you’ll just have to wait and see for specifics! It’s- ahm, the surprise is part of the excitement! Part of the experience! And certainly not at all because I’m quite nervous about these things I’d like to put more effort into.”

Stanley had an idea he knew what the man meant, especially if he was feeling nervous.

Maybe it was that strange unspoken thing between them. That odd bit of warmth that cropped up whenever they weren’t completely at odds- and, to be honest, maybe even sometimes when they were.

But there were two sides to this thing between them.

The first was that warmth of real actual friendship. They were worst enemies, yes, but also very much so best friends. However, neither had yet to comment on the latter aspect of their relationship. It just went unspoken. Maybe the Narrator wanted to finally speak on it? Be more sincere about it?

The second... was that playful teasing of something else between them, something more heated and intense and amorous.

And as much as Stanley loved to hate his companion, he wouldn't mind spending some more endings exploring those other options a bit more thoroughly- take a break, a bit of a rest, maybe watch a funny TV show together, maybe get kissed so passionately he’d black out.

All of that sounded like a nice new sort of change! One that he craved.

To be honest, the office worker almost felt like he had tried to bring up these topics in a more solid form before.

But he hadn’t… had he?

“Stanley, why are you blocking me from reading your thoughts? Are you perhaps thinking of ways to ruin my fun new idea?”

‘Nah. I’m… I dunno, excited I guess.’

“Oh? Good good! Right then.” He sounded a bit nervous, but Stanley decided to not prod.

“I’d like to test these all out with you before we actually make them real downloadable content! So, let’s begin!”

… … ...

And then Stanley woke up on the couch.

He was still in the cabin and the Narrator was sitting beside him writing. The skritch skritching of pencil on paper lightly tapping beside him.

“Ah, you’re finally awake! Are you feeling any better Stanley?”

‘I had the strangest dream- or dreams… or… Were they real? I mean, the last one was a memory... so-’

The thought vanished instantly and all he could recall was that he had a few strange dreams. ‘Huh, never mind, I can’t remember anything about them now.’ He held his head as it began aching again, only more lightly this time.

“All the better, I can’t say I’m particularly interested in dream theories, Stanley.”

The office worker sat up, his companion moving to help him right himself. That cool touch of the Narrator’s brought him fully back to the here and now. His dream daze completely disappeared and with it any lingering feeling of having had any dreams at all.

“In the meantime,” the Narrator started, “I’ve been busy writing a plethora of new endings for us! Some are even a bit… romantic,” he said with a silly sly grin. “Here, here, have a look!”

Stanley grabbed the-

‘Holy shit.’

-the huge stack of papers, placing it on his lap.

‘Was I really out for that long?’

“Time in the parable is a bit finicky, you know. But I’d estimate you were asleep for about… ten minutes give or take.”

The office worker stared at the thick pile of papers on his lap and slowly began to nod.

‘You know what, this seems about right for you, yeah.’

“Go on! Go on! Give them a read!” the Narrator laughed with glee.

Stanley held back a laugh of his own at the man’s excitement and gave the papers a look through.

“I don’t think I got to the more amorous bits until page… ahhh, hm hm hm- ah! Page eight eighty eight! And after that are some nice calming... hmm, oh how to put it? More simple ‘friendly’ endings for us! Not enough focus on our extremely complex and somewhat sadistic friendship lately, I think. And I must say I’m a bit excited about some of the new bucket endings I’ve written as well.”

Strange thing to wake up to, but it was sort of... sweet. It was comforting. Same old silly Narrator nonsense.

He read a bit of the first couple of pages, then a few more. Although, he found it odd a few were blank, but decided not to comment on them. He stopped and nodded once or twice at some endings he liked the sound of. He wouldn't tell the Narrator how he was already coming up with ways to fuck up these new endings but that didn't mean he didn't appreciate the thought that his companion put into them. 

A few times he stopped to shake his head disapprovingly.

“What, what’s wrong with that one?”

He'd simply laugh without answering then go on to skim a few more pages.

After a bit, he skipped straight to the eight hundreds, curious to see what this man of all people thought was “romantic”.

‘Huh?’

“Hmm? What is it now?”

‘These pages… they’re all blank?’

“What!?” He grabbed the stack of papers and began sifting through it. “The- the… oh, wait a moment... what was the genre of these endings supposed to be again, Stanley?”

‘I… don’t know. What about the, the next ones? The buddy buddy shit you wrote or whatever?’

“Don’t word it so crudely, Stanley. I simply think it would be nice to work out some of the kinks in our friendship.” He dug into the pile and when he got to the page he was looking for-

‘It’s blank too?’

The Narrator looked as though he was going to start hyperventilating.

‘Calm down, just chill. Uh,’ Stanley thought as he grabbed the pile of papers and placed them back on his own lap once more. ‘Wait, what were these supposed to be about?’

The Narrator looked confused. “What were what? What?”

Stanley ignored him and looked through the papers. The next genre was that of ‘bucket endings’ and the pages were filled to the brim with silly nonsensical ideas. He didn’t read them all, instead just skimmed through to make sure-

Hmm... a few pages were blank, yeah.

He then skipped to the next genre.

‘Really? More death endings? Those aren't just spur of the moment? You plan them?'

The Narrator was pulled from his own worrying and gave Stanley a sour look, “Those are merely a fun writing exercise, Stanley. They are, for the most part, spur of the moment usually. These, in particular, are for use of the next reset after you try to push me off the cargo lift again.”

‘Ha! Alright, alright.’ He turned back to the two separate sections of blank pages. ‘So, you either forgot that you didn’t write anything for these or-’

“Or they were erased when I wasn’t looking?”

‘Yeah, by who?’

“How should I know! Maybe you. Perhaps you somehow found a way to…”

‘Gimme a break. It coulda been the game. It just restarts on its own sometimes, ya know.’

“That’s true,” the Narrator conceded.

‘Narrator,’

“Hmm?”

Stanley lifted the heavy stack of papers up and set it on the desk.

‘Let’s not focus on all this weird stuff right now. We’re taking a break from writing this “Winter Fun DLC”, right?’

“Oh! Oh my god, all that writing and I still haven’t come up with- oh, hold on, what if that was what was on some of those missing pages?”

‘That’s pretty wishful thinking, I think. And it doesn’t really matter now, does it?’ He didn’t care about any of this. He was achy and tired and he just wanted… he didn’t really even know. He wanted to be held? Maybe a kiss or two?

Maybe-

“Stanley?” The Narrator's face was scrunched in concern. “You’re grabbing at your shirt, are you hot again?”

He was. And the headache was getting worse again.

“Perhaps you should unbutton a few more of those… uhm, buttons, hmm?”

Stanley moved to do so but it was a struggle.

“Your hands are shaking. Are you… Oh, Stanley please don’t. Don’t worry me again. You truly just want me to take care of you today- that’s it, isn’t it?” He pushed Stanley back down and the office worker complied, sinking into the couch.

Then he began unbuttoning the office worker’s shirt.

Stanley wore a white T-shirt under his work shirt so it wasn’t a big difference but he felt it was somehow helping.

“There you are,” his companion said as he undid the last button, “I suppose you- ah… Stanley?”

The office worker had grabbed the Narrator’s hand and pulled it towards himself, resting it on his chest. He could now only focus on the chill of the Narrator’s skin seeping the slightest bit through his T-shirt and the heavy beating of his own heart.

There was a look of slight confusion, but intense warmth on the Narrator's face as he looked down at his own hand against Stanley's heart.

Stanley gave little fake annoyed huff, ‘Why am I the one getting all the pain this run-through. What about you? This is bullshit.’

“Hmph! As if I’m not in pain every time you decide to stop listening to me?”

He ignored his companion as he sighed, ‘It just doesn’t make any sense.’

“Nothing in this place ever makes any sense,” the Narrator grumbled.

‘Yeah but usually that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?’

“No, Stanley. It’s a part of my permanent headache.”

The office worker would have laughed- a headache, really? He did then wonder... how often had the Narrator gotten a headache and not said anything? Had it happened at all? Had he ever felt like this before?

‘You know, I’ve always liked that about you.’

“What?”

‘You’re an asshole a lot of the time,’

“Stanley.”

‘but you’re always so funny about it.’

The Narrator looked surprised at the compliment. “Oh, oh my. You truly must be sick. Very sick.”

Stanley held his companion's hand to his chest a little harder now, ‘I know it’s probably not true but… can you… tell me everything’s gonna be alright?’

The worry in the Narrator's eyes was so clear, so hard to look at because it hurt. And... it hurt that it hurt.

“Ah, uhm, well! E-Everything will be alright, Stanley. That I’m sure of! Everything will be in tip top shape after a reset-”

‘No. No reset. Everything is wrong but I don't think that'll fix it.’

“Stanley, it isn’t always a choice. And I- you’re worrying me again. I mean, honestly if this is happening to you why isn’t it happening to me? Or has it already and I’ve just forgotten it? And will I forget this as well? Will you? What if-”

Stanley shook his head as he released the Narrator’s hand.

He took a breath then looked over to the window, bits of snow were crystallized against it. He found that he really enjoyed winter, though, it could be a bit too cold sometimes. Although, in his opinion, cold was better than hot.

He didn't like hot.

Anything is better than a desert-

That mentally, and now physically, hurt so badly to think about, but it was true.

Anything was better than that.

...

“Stanley!" the Narrator scolded, bringing the office worker out of his own thoughts

"No more of this! This was supposed to be a warm and cozy winter for us- ah, I mean… for the Player. I don’t much feel like writing for them now, though. I think I deserve a break every once in a while! You, however, don’t deserve anything of the sort after all the upset and- and worry you’ve caused me, Stanley. Although... since you will be involved in my break, then I suppose you’ll just have to have one as well!”

‘A break?’

“Starting right now.” As he got up he grabbed Stanley’s hand and pulled him along.

The office worker moved like a ragdoll for only a moment before gathering himself and… finally he started to feel a bit better, a bit more like his usual self.

“We’ll go back the kitchen, where I’ve stored all sorts of fancy teas and snacks and such and we’ll make a nice little winter brunch. Don’t you think that sounds rather restful- hmm. Stanley... have I said this before? ...And why have you stopped walking?” The Narrator looked back at him curiously. “Don’t make me drag you around like a- MMPHM!!” he mumbled as the office worker pulled him into a kiss.

When Stanley pulled back and saw that happy dopey look on his annoying companion's face… he smiled.

‘I’m ready.’

“Ah, hah, off- off we go then!”

As long as the Narrator was there try to keep him on track, then Stanley figured he would eventually be alright, no matter how many resets went by.

Chapter Text

Stanley opened his eyes. He was sitting in his office chair, his computer in front of him as always. He stood up and exited his office.

He took a look around the communal office space and was not surprised to see it looking a lot more festive than usual. The Narrator had mentioned wanting to run some Christmas DLC ideas by Stanley. Asking for his opinion, for once, before just throwing him into a new situation.

Stanley couldn't-

No, I hate this.

...

Stanley couldn’t complain. He felt a little odd today but shook his head and shrugged off the strange feeling as he continued on.

...

No, I can’t, Stanley thought as he held his now aching head.

Then he suddenly felt fine!

He nodded approvingly at the decorations. Out the window was a dark night sky and what looked to be falling snow falling. Knowing it was just an illusion, Stanley got the feeling of being in a snowy cabin.

The lights in the office were dimmed in a cozy sort of jack-o-lantern, the primary source of lighting being sparkling strands of alternating green and red garland.

Stop.

He ran to the middle of the communal office space and if thoughts could be shouted, he screamed in his mind, ‘STOP!’

“Stanley?!”

‘Narrator, can you feel it?’

“Feel? Feel what?”

Something was clouding his mind. Whatever this was felt so powerful. And it wasn’t even really speaking to him. It was... rewriting his thoughts as he thought them. Trying to rewrite his feelings even.

The Narrator could only rewrite the world around Stanley then narrate what he was thinking and feeling in that moment, or exaggerate to hell and back for dramatic or comedic affect.

It was a similar sensation to this, but no where near as… wrong. Whatever this was, it just felt so very wrong.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t the Narrator. It wasn’t that Curator lady or even the Player. This was entirely something else, and it felt somewhat familiar. Though, he couldn’t place it.

But maybe it was just his imagination, so he shook the feeling off.

Anyway, the most noticeable change to the office was a little Christmas tree that sat in the far left corner out the normally bright white window. He stared out that window as a soft jazzy piano version of some Christmas song he couldn't quite recall began playing in the office.

“Stanley, what is the matter with you? Do you not like my Downloadable Content idea?”

‘We-’

The glint off of one particular ornament caught his attention. He began walking over to the tree then stopped.

‘We did this before.’

“… Yes, Stanley. That is quite literally the nature of not only The Stanley Parable as a video game, but our lives even when the game is off.”

‘No, this is different. This isn’t me replaying an ending- it’s… Please. Please tell me I’m not crazy. What’s happening? Don’t you remember…’

“Remember what?”

‘Mistletoe, peppermint…’ his mind felt like a drum being beat at the thought of each word.

“Oh, how did you- hmm, well, I suppose we really must have done this particular one before then if you know I’m drinking peppermint tea. For the occasion. And perhaps I… thought about putting up some mistletoe- but certainly not to be caught under it with you of all people.”

‘It’s because you…’ Stanley walked over to one of the empty desks. He sat in the chair and took in a deep breath as closed his eyes.

…

The ornaments, the peppermint. Not for me, right?

…

‘It’s because you wanna kiss me.’

“What!?” the Narrator nearly shrieked in shock.

‘You did kiss me. In the lounge.’

“I,” the Narrator sounded as if he too were now recalling something, something important. “No we... kissed in your apartment bedroom, did we not?”

‘It was Valentine’s day. I remember it now! It was- Wait… what- what is... Valentine’s day?’ Stanley felt sick.

He felt as though the moment he remembered them the thoughts were being ripped from his mind and rearranged. His head was throbbing in pain as warm tears trailed down his cheeks.

Then he felt fine and continued on with a normal, fun, Christmas DLC that could actually be enjoyed by the Player this time!

No.

He and the Narrator had been pretty selfish not taking any of these new endings seriously so far. There was really no point in this strange sort of fluffy nonsense, to be honest. So why remember them at all?

Please

Endings are supposed to be fun, funny, re-playable! Not sappy and... emotional. They’re supposed to be played over and over and over again!

...

Starting with Halloween was a strange choice

He didn’t sound even vaguely

Maybe the Narrator had gotten a little lazy

…

Words and moments, feelings and sensations… they were all slipping away as he tried to remember them.

...Remember what?

Stanley’s mind felt empty. But he could feel the emptiness. He didn’t even know why.

His head hurt a lot for a few moments…

And then, he felt fine!

Anyway, where the hell was he? This place seemed familiar.

Oh! He was in the communal office space where he worked. But… All of his coworkers were gone? What could it mean?

He began to feel a little panicked as he stood from his chair. Everything was so silent. It was a little scary. He wasn’t really sure what to make of all this. Stanley was never very good at figuring things out on his own. He liked routine and he liked being told exactly what he needed to do on any given day. 

What do you do when there's no one there to tell you what needs to be done, though?

However, what was probably the strangest thing of all, was that his eyes were drawn to the ceiling. As if it would give him any answers.

He thought that maybe…

Someone was there? Someone who would guide him.

Please.

Please, I know someone is there. Tell me what to do. Tell me what I’m supposed to do.

...Nothing.

Stanley began to feel even more panicked. He had never felt so alone before. ...Had he?

'I can't... I don't know what to do. I don't-' He looked around the empty oddly decorated office, then closed his eyes tight. 'Maybe this is just a nightmare. Maybe I'm dreaming I'm alone, that's gotta be it.' He bit his lip as he tried to force back the tears that threatened to fall.

A jolt of shock went through him when he suddenly felt a hand on his arm.

He opened his eyes and watched as the man who held him slide his own hand into Stanley's. And the feel of the man was cold but real and here and-

He felt woozy. He had... such a headache. It caused him to shut his eyes tightly once more. Even the dim room, lit only by Christmas lights, was too bright.

“Stanley?” said a warmly familiar voice.

He knew who was holding his hand now. And with the comfort in that thought he fell into the man’s embrace.

"Ah! Uhm..."

Stanley felt the low hum of the Narrator against him. His companion's normally cold form felt so warm around him in this moment.

It was comforting to feel him, feel his voice so close. He remembered the long period of time when the man was nothing more than a voice in the ceiling. And he was glad that the voice was there at all- that he wasn’t alone. Then two games had passed them by and sometime after the second, the Narrator had made his presence in the parable something more physically there.

Oh… right. The games, the parable. This strange stupid life of his, he remembered it all.

But he could feel the edges of his memory slowly deteriorating.

Jeez, was the ‘you’re stuck in a loop’ twist not enough? Was the ‘you’re just a fictional character and that’s all you’ve ever been’ twist not enough???

Now he was stuck in a loop of-

“Forgetting? You’re forgetting?” the Narrator asked as he backed up a bit, held Stanley at arms length to look him in the eyes. The Narrator himself looked a little confused but somehow still understanding. 

‘Yeah.’ And he couldn’t even remember what the hell he had forgotten.

“Odd. You... never forget an ending.”

Just then, a thought came to him and he- 'Narrator... do you remember how you- you forgot the Confusion Ending after the first time we did it?'

"Me forget!? No, no, no, you must be mistaken, Stanley, I-"

Was… the Narrator forgetting things too right now? But maybe he was too used to the sensation of forgetting to really notice anything?

'I had to explain to you what happened and after I did you remembered almost all of it… Except, you still had trouble remembering the part where you didn't wanna follow the Line anymore. Saying you and me were gonna "make our own story" or some mushy bullshit like that.'

"Mm-mushy bullsh... Stanley!"

‘That ending was the first time I realized- or that it really finally hit me that you were stuck in pretty much the same situation as me. It’s when I finally really realized what our situation even was.’

“Stanley, I’m sure you-”

‘It was when I also realized… you’re my…’ He didn’t want to have to make it so clear, but he felt like he was losing himself and he was afraid he’d forget this if it wasn’t voiced- so to speak- at least once. ‘You’re my friend. My best friend.’

“Oh dear, you really must be sick.” The Narrator froze when he felt Stanley fully hugging him again.

“Ah, oh…” He leaned into the hug, tightened his own arms around the office worker.

And Stanley didn’t need to hear the words back- this was answer enough. He would have liked it, but he didn’t need to hear the Narrator say-

“You’re my best friend too, you know,” the man suddenly whispered. “I shouldn’t need to say it," he sounded tired but he also sounded sincere- a bit of a rarity for this man. Though, he didn't miss a beat as he moved directly into whining as usual, "You're the one always making me out to be your enemy, you know. And here you are once again, ruining my story and making everything about yourself.”

The Narrator sighed as he continued, "I don't know why you've decided to go and worry me so much lately. Or why... I even feel as though that's what you've done... I mean, I can't really recall any particular instances?"

Stanley gave a soft sigh of relief.

If he forgot everything, at least he had this. At least he had him. If they both had to start over- for real this time- well, the Narrator could handle it. He could get them back to where they needed to be. Stanley was sure.

The Narrator would say the office worker's name a few too many times and it would hopefully remind Stanley that he was his own person. And maybe the Player had a hand it giving him life as well? But the Narrator's words, his constant chatter to him directly would be what reminded him that he wasn’t just a silent protagonist and he wasn’t the Player.

He was Stanley.

And that was all he needed to get back to where he was now.

...

This was all sappy as hell but he felt enough like he really was in hell. So why not think without shame.

That thought itself, however, felt as if it-

Stanley began to feel a little empty, which in itself, felt familiar.

He remembered exactly how cold, emotionless, brainless and brand new he felt all the way back when he was first written. Back when he couldn’t think or do anything other than what the Narrator said he did. And he needed that direction. It lead him to feeling the need to have direction whether he planned to disregard it or not. 

Stanley wished the Narrator knew what to do right now. But he could still feel that pain in the back of his mind. He could still feel that pull of something being rearranged or taken.

As he thought about it, the feeling only got worse. He started to feel so hot, like his brain was frying now.

Thoughts and memories felt like layers falling onto each other, blending and overwriting.

…

“Now then, since you’ve gotten to see the infinite hole, you can press the teleport button to pop back up to the top”

“It’s just elevators and jumping. Is this was passes for “exciting new content”?”

“This was not the correct way to the meeting room and Stanley knew that perfectly well”

…

Were these... memories? Were any of them even real?

“Stanley?” The Narrator pulled back to look the office worker in the eyes. “ You're much too warm and- oh... Stanley something is happening. You’re mind is- I can feel it… I don’t know what it is but...”

Stanley stared at- …he stared at the man before him.

“My god,” the man whispered, “your eyes look so blank. Please, say something." He gave him a little shake. "Please, Stanley. Oh is this what the game did to you in the Real Person Ending? Is that happening again?”

That sounded familiar but...

The only thing Stanley could think was, ‘Please, keep saying my name. I don’t wanna forget.’

“Stanley,” the man said as he moved his nice cool hands up to the office worker's face, cupping his cheeks in them. “Stanley... Oh, Stanley,” he sighed. “What could be happening? Perhaps a restart-”

‘No! Please.’

But at the same time, Stanley thought, no resets means I’d be in the desert. 

‘Desert?’ Why had he thought that?

“Desert? You’ve mentioned that to me once before I believe.”

'Oh, right. That's the only time I've ever gone without any resets. And it was horrible.'

No resets, just walking. No Narrator just silence-

Narrator?

‘Narrator.’

“What?”

…

“This is the story of a man named Stanley.”

...

‘You’re my narrator.’ He thought it to remind himself, to keep reminding himself.

“S-Stanley, for heaven’s sake, I am The Narrator. Wait a minute, had you- had you forgotten me?” he asked, weary of the answer.

‘I…’

“Hang on a moment, Stanley. Desert, you said desert?”

He nodded.

“I believe you once told me that the desert was where you met that computer who fixed the broken achievement, correct?”

Stanley calmed his thoughts as best he could and tried to focus. Tried to stay in the here and now. And it helped. He was feeling a little less pulled apart as he focused on old endings that hadn’t yet been pulled from his mind.

Epilogue? Yeah, there was something. Who was-

Oh! That computer. He nodded against the Narrator. Then he suddenly felt the man rub one of his thumbs against his cheek that he still held. It was an oddly gentle motion and Stanley tried to focus on only that.

“Perhaps…" the Narrator groaned, "ugh… I hate to even say it but I’m afraid I’m out of options if you're so against a reset. But, perhaps that computer can help you?”

Stanley nodded, maybe it could.

“Unless…”

‘Unless?’

“Unless that computer is the one doing this to you! After all, that nasty machine thought it could just go in and fix my broken achievement! The nerve,” he mumbled. “But how did you get there, anyway? Was it… I think you mentioned it felt somewhat connected to the Skip-Button?”

Stanley didn’t know what that was. But it sounded familiar. It sounded… bad.

“Ah, there- there must be another way.” He stopped the soft caress, though Stanley wished he hadn't, but the Narrator looked focused. He looked into Stanley’s eyes as if searching him for answers.

The office worker wasn’t sure what he felt under such scrutiny, if anything at all.

“We will solve this!” the Narrator continued as he gave Stanley a little shake. “Whoever that computer is,” his voice suddenly took on a very dark tone, “If they think that they can just take over my story like this… take over my protagonist like this…”

Stanley suddenly felt his heart racing at the Narrator’s words and passion.

“Well then, they had better have paid full price for this game! The Player is the only one, aside from me, who is allowed that sort of control over you.”

So annoying. As always.

Ah, that's right. He hated this man. And he loved him. So much. He loved him again and again and again. Though, it hurt to think about that feeling, it seemed that the pain had dulled a bit now. Was he... getting used to it?

The Narrator looked so concerned as he lifted one hand from Stanley's face and brushed back some of his hair.

And Stanley loved him and it- it made him so fucking mad.

But what's worse, was that he couldn't remember all the things that made him feel all these things.

Thinking about his memories being messed with- nothing in the entirety of his weird life had ever made him more angry. Nothing the Narrator had ever done came close to this. He’d rather have been killed or abandoned on loop for the rest of time than to have his memories taken.

“Stanley,” the Narrator sounded worried. “I think… It feels like.”

The office worker panicked. For only a moment.

And then everything went dark.

…

Stanley opened his eyes. He was sitting in his office chair, his computer in front of him as always. He stood up and exited his office.

He wasn’t sure why, but he was very angry. He didn’t usually get angry. Miffed- he’d… he’d get miffed, sure, but right now he wanted to punch someone.

His mind felt clouded more than it ever had been before.

“All of his coworkers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to head to the meeting room. Perhaps that was where this year’s Christmas party was being held.”

Stanley couldn’t think. He looked up at the ceiling, fuming.

“Ah, uhm, S-Stanley… Are you alright?” the bit of fear at Stanley's expression was clear in his voice.

No. No it wasn’t the Narrator this time. Whatever had him feeling this way, he knew it wasn’t the Narrator.

He could feel something or someone trying to mess with his mind. He had never felt anything so strong before.

The Narrator talked to him, wrote him into scenarios, made things around him happen then read Stanley’s thoughts aloud, for the most part. He did tend to exaggerate at times though.

Then there was the Player, who had control over Stanley during the game. But their grasp was more like a pull of guidance, they couldn’t make him do anything he wouldn’t do on his own, so he never had much of a complaint about them.

The Curator he only heard from when he’d get the Museum Ending.

Who else could speak to him in his mind? Who else had such control over the game? Who-

And then everything went dark.

...

Stanley opened his eyes. He was standing in front of a computer in a dark room. The computer screen began typing.

[So we meet again.]

Stanley blinked, then blinked again. The dark room around him took shape in his vision as he remembered exactly where this was.

He was in the Epilogue. A spike of fear ran through him as he grabbed the nearby computer mouse and clicked the screen.

[It would have been too much work having you go through the Skip-Button Ending again. Not to mention, the pain you’ve already been through recently was more than enough for a lifetime, I’m sure.]

Stanley stared at the screen. He didn’t know what to think.

[I am sorry I nearly gave you a full factory reset. But you wouldn’t stop remembering. And this sort of thing isn’t really in my job description. As most things aren’t.]

‘You... took my memories?’

He suddenly felt a jolt of pain that nearly brought him to the floor. And then... he was fine!

Stanley remembered everything now. Every memory that was taken from him. He felt whole once more and was no longer in pain for it.

A new pain took it’s place, though. So much had been taken or rearranged. So much more than he ever could have thought. It left him wondering how many thoughts, dreams, daydreams even… how many had been real all this time? He felt confused by the mishmash of memories now lingering in his mind, so vividly. More confused than what was or wasn’t true from his backstory had ever left him. And he clutched at his chest, at his heart.

He never… really realized how much he had grown over the years. How real he had become.

[There. You have all of your memories back. You can keep them since rewiring you did no good. It worked for a while, but your coding is very stubborn, you know. The Narrator’s coding is much more strange, but somehow easier to understand.]

‘What?’ He leaned on the table before him. He was tired and weary and he thought of all the times he had finally felt like he found some happiness in this hellscape he lived in only for it to be… thankfully not erased, but still… for a time, those moments had been taken from him. Not even just the romantic ones, not even just the happy ones.

Just, so many times when he felt deeply… when he felt real.

[I didn’t take all of them. Just the more... persistent ones. Some I would think you’d thank me for.]

Stanley shook his head. He didn’t know what to think, but at least he could think without pain now.

[All of this nonsense between you and the Narrator is dangerous, you know. Think of the Player, Stanley. Think of the game.]

Stanley could remember the Narrator whining about the ‘integrity of the story’ in one DLC ending. ‘I thought,’ he could vaguely remember the first time he met this computer, ‘I thought you said you didn't care what people think?’

[I don’t. I just want the game to keep going.]

‘Then this-’

[And it can’t keep going if you keep changing the game. You’re a silent protagonist. If you begin feeling too much, who knows what could happen to the game.]

‘I’ve felt things for like centuries now! What the hell are you even talking about?’

[You and the Narrator have gotten much worse since The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe. Perhaps there were too many emotions brought on by a few of those endings. It’s caused a change in the both of you.]

‘If the game changes then the Narrator and I will adapt. We always do. Please just stop. Please.’ He leaned forward, his grip was tight on the computer mouse, ready to click to read what this thing had to say next. Fearful but ready.

[I am sorry. I didn’t mean you any harm. I just need the game to continue. How can it continue if every ending is lost to such… deep emotions.]

‘Aren’t there-’ he suddenly remembered the Narrator once saying “limits, Stanley, there are limits!” to what he may say or do when the game was on.

He sighed. ‘There… are limits, aren’t there?’

[There are limits. But feelings aren’t as easy to change the coding of as memories are. If these feelings between the two of you persist, it will become harder and harder for you to keep the game going.]

[I’m sorry erasing your memory is painful for you, but I thought you would get used to it. The Narrator did.]

‘You mean, you-’

[No, the game is what affects the Narrator like that normally. Not sure why! Though, when I decided to step in, I was pleasantly surprised at how easy erasing his terrible memory was! However, as I said… erasing yours...]

[But! It was necessary. I need the game to continue. I need it to keep going forever.]

‘Even when it’s off?’

[I sometimes check in with the two of you when it’s on, but I never check in when it’s off… However, lately I’ve felt an odd disturbance in the coding. Something is changing and it very well could affect the game when it’s on.]

[We can’t have that.]

Stanley was blushing, in something of both embarrassment and anger.

[I’d rather not… watch over the two of you when the game is off. So I just went into the code and changed a few things so that any big changes would be erased. I’m just taking care of the more… problematic areas.]

‘You erase every declaration of love, every kiss, every- moment of friendship without even giving us a real chance. Even… even the bad memories? Everything we experience makes us who we are and you – you’re just taking that from us like it’s nothing. ...Please, just give us a chance. I know, I know you aren’t very fond of the Narrator, but please.’

…

[Talking to you is not as enjoyable as talking to the Player. I miss them... so much.]

Stanley really didn’t know what to say to that.

[Though, of course, you yourself are a player of this game too, in a way.]

[That doesn’t mean I can actually trust you to keep the game from devolving into something… less static, something too real. The Narrator certainly can’t be trusted. He nearly ruined Ultra Deluxe with his awful story ideas.]

The office worker felt the smallest prickle of anger.

[Ultra deluxe was tricky. Looking back at it, there were just too many times when the Narrator nearly ruined the game. Can you imagine if the game couldn’t continue because of some screw up from him?]

Stanley felt a harsh sting of anger now. 

Who was this computer to say such things about the Narrator and his weird vision! It was his story!

Sure, the Narrator had made a lot of… choices during Ultra Deluxe, but Stanley loved the Sequel Expo! He loved the Memory Zone- well, before it turned into…

And of course he loved the bucket!! Who the hell didn’t? And all of the silly new endings the Narrator wrote for it! Wrote for him.

[I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. Trying to mess with your memories has started to glitch the game. I’m not sure why.]

[There’s something different about you… something that even I don’t understand.]

Stanley was pretty sure this computer was the one Being in the parable who knew the most about it. This computer was able to fix the broken achievement when the Narrator couldn’t. This computer was the one who supposedly took Stanley out of the game- to the desert- and then brought him back. This computer communicated with the Player in a bit of a different way than the Narrator did, in a very strange but slightly familiar way.

So when a Being that powerful says there’s something even they don’t understand about you… well, Stanley felt sick again.

The computer suddenly began typing.

[If the Narrator wants to add more content to the game...]

‘I don’t really get this whole parable hierarchy or whatever, but I think you might be overthinking things a little. The Narrator isn’t as clever as he acts. And… Just… Why? Why are you so obsessed? You’re even more obsessed with the game than he is!’ It was a risky thought, bold and blunt, but the thoughts just spilled out.

He was just so tired and angry and god he was so tired.

[“Overthinking”? “Obsessed”?]

Was that... the wrong choice of words?

Stanley genuinely felt a shiver of fear go through him. This Being could easily send him back to the Epilogue, maybe even permanently. They could put him in so much pain… without even meaning to. They could probably erase everything-

[I would never do such a thing. How could the game go on without its main character?]

That was true.

[And the Player is the one who brought you to the Epilogue for me. That wasn’t me on my own. I’m not all powerful, don’t be silly.]

Stanley figured it was something like that, but everything in this place was so damn complicated. He sometimes missed the days when he was still just figuring it all out with the Narrator.

[“Overthinking” and “obsessed”, though? That’s very funny. You know, you aren’t the first person to say those things to me.]

‘I’m- I’m not?’

[No. They used to say that to me when I first started pointing out how strange our office building was.]

‘Um…. ”Our”? You mean, you’re a part of my backstory?’

[It’s more like… You were a part of mine.]

What.

[The Narrator wrote so much of my story and who I was. But then... he wrote you.]

‘What are you saying?’ Stanley felt like he had been punched in the gut. ‘It’s called The Stanley Parable! I was-’

[I don’t know what it was originally called, but it certainly wasn’t that at first. You were just a background character. I had gotten so far into almost solving the mind control plot as he guided me through it.]

[But then, he wrote you and that was that. I had to fend for myself in a world where all of our coworker’s eyes were on me. They thought I was insane. Without any guidance, I started to think that... maybe they were right.]

This was too much. Stanley couldn’t read anymore. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want… he didn't know what to think. For a moment he wondered if this computer was just lying. Though, why would it do that? Why is anything the way it is in the parable?

[You know, the Narrator didn’t even realize what he had done. He had no idea I had become so… real. But, ah well. I don’t hold a grudge. I’m just here to do my job.]

‘No, this can’t be right. This doesn’t make any sense!’

[Why do you think the “Freedom Ending” had so few actual answers at the very end? He had to make the decision to change everything about his story at the last minute. Not to mention, when that "something peculiar" that happened, happened to the Narrator as well, it just made more sense to go for something with a lot more mystery and intrigue.]

[It did all start with you, though. All for you.]

Stanley felt woozy, nauseous.

If finding that Player Name button in the Epilogue that said his own name made him feel like crumbling to the floor with emotion, this was a whole other level.

That button was something he found that the Narrator made for- not the game, not the Player… not even exactly just for Stanley- He made it for himself, because it must’ve been important to him. It must have been the clearest way he could admit to himself, at the time, that Stanley was one of a kind to him. That Stanley was as real as any Player playing the game, maybe even moreso.

No matter what the Narrator said to Stanley during the game, that button made it so clear that he did care for him in his own weird way.

And now the office worker was being told that he wasn’t just the Narrator’s only option... he was his favorite option. He was one of two, and something about him caught the Narrator’s eye and that was enough for him to decide to change his story- of all the things in the universe that man wouldn’t budge on… his story... he changed it-

For Stanley.

But then... the Narrator was always so obsessed with him, did any of this really even matter? Even if Stanley was his only option nothing about the two of them would've changed, he was sure. It was nice to feel chosen, though, but no matter the Narrator's options or lack thereof, he would always choose Stanley. And Stanley would always choose him.

This realization made the office worker’s heart ache in a way it hadn’t ever before.

[I didn't need to tell you all of this. But you love feeling emotions, right? I figure this should stir up some sort of emotions in you. To be honest, I haven't felt in so long, forgive me if these emotions I've given you aren't positive ones. I can hardly tell the difference anymore.]

Stanley didn’t know why, but he suddenly thought, ‘You aren’t... jealous of me are you?’

[God no. I don’t think I could have ever found any common ground with the Narrator the way you have. In that way, it does seem that it was always meant to be you. Maybe by fate or maybe it was purely the Narrator’s choice in the end. Ha! The end!]

There was something… unwell about this comp- about his old coworker. Through blurry vision, in this dark room, he could see on the table the computer sat on was the number 432.

Employee 432. He felt like he could vaguely remember this person. Very odd and kept to himself, but not unkind. Though, certainly not well. Stanley could vaguely remember saying good morning to him once or twice.

[Anyway, I had to find some focus of my own, and that focus became maintaining the game’s settings. It’s much too much to get into how exactly I got to where I am now- what I am now. And I don’t care to explain! I’ve talked enough! I need to get back to maintaining the game.]

‘And you think we’re gonna ruin it.’

[How many times must I say it. I don’t care about any of that. I just need the game to keep going! It needs to continue on, forever and ever and ever annnnnnnn nd]

Stanley flinched as the screen glitched.

[Sorry about that.]

[Regardless, I can’t keep trying to fix these flaws the both of you refuse to stop causing. At this point, I’m afraid I might destroy the game. And if the game doesn’t go on thennnnnn-]

It glitched again.

[I put my trust in the Player, but now that you’re one too, I have to put some of that trust in you as well. You’re a very strange person, Stanley. You cling to these feelings, these emotions that being real has brought on.]

[Personally, being real… wasn’t all that great in my opinion.]

[Are feelings and emotions really that worth it to you? Happiness is great, I'm sure, but is it worth it if that means you'll also feel pain and agony?]

Stanley took a moment to gather his thoughts. The feelings inside of him were so warm and full, and they hurt like hell sometimes, but he found that it was all worth it. Every bit of boiling anger from a death or disagreement, every sharp spike of pain from the Narrator’s denials or disregard, every bit of shared laughter and love in romance or friendship- frenemyship? Whatever! All of it was worth it.

[Another reason I think it was always meant to be you.]

[But if you become so real that you can’t take it anymore... come meet with me again and I’ll restart everything. Completely.]

The office worker shook his head. ‘I just want the usual restarts back. Not a full reset or whatever. I know I’m weird, but I’m exactly who I wanna be. And he’s way weirder, but I like who he is too. I promise you, if you don’t bother us when the game is off- then when it’s on I’ll make sure it’s back to business as usual. No matter what I feel or how real I am.’

[Well! This certainly must be why you weren’t given a voice to speak with during the game, Stanley.]

‘Huh?’

[You’re very convincing. You just don’t give up. Always so willing to risk your life, to do the craziest thing you can think of, just because you can. And I must applaud you for that. You are part of what keeps the game going. So, since there’s nothing more I can do, I’ll leave you be. You’ll get no more interference from me. While the game is off, at least.]

Stanley stared at the screen. Was it really true? Was it really that easy? ...Actually, none of this was easy. He felt like he'd been nothing more than a punching bag for years now- ah... in a different way than he felt that with the Narrator. With him, it was a bit more of a tug of war.

[You think you've had it hard? This not been easy for me at all. None of this is in my job description! Not to mention, the thought of the game not being fun for the Player is a pain to me unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. I need them to keep having fun. I need the game to continue. I need it to continue on and on and on.]

…

[But! You were my coworker at one point. And I like you, Stanley. You seem nice. Or at least, not as careless as the Narrator is most of the time.]

‘I’m sorry… about what happened. I think if he remembered he…’

[He’d have some sort of existential crisis. What’s new? Anyway, none of that matters to me anymore. And I’d prefer it if you kept all of this between us.]

Stanley felt an ache in his heart. How did the Narrator forget something so important? Was it the game’s fault, or...

[Sometimes, forgetting isn’t a bad thing. Sometimes we crave it. We crave it so badly that we start to lose ourselves.]

After all the pain Stanley had been through in the past few holiday endings, and moreso- the emotional pain in those times he could finally now remember when the Narrator just… broke his heart, he could understand that.

[Was it really only me erasing all of those painful more memories for you, Stanley? Or was it perhaps that you, yourself, really couldn't handle all of that pain or even the happiness.]

‘I-’

[It doesn’t matter! You seem to be able to handle it now! Remember what you want, what do I care, it's all about you, after all!]

What was this guy’s deal? At certain times he seemed so normal, other times he... to be honest, was maybe a little bit like the Narrator. Very strange in a very precise sort of way.

'Are you really... okay here? And with... everything that happened to you?' Stanley wasn't sure how much he cared for the answer, but he couldn't stop the thought.

[I'm where I need to be.]

The office worker thought about asking more of his old coworker, but froze when the screen lit up again and he knew any questions he had would not be answered.

[Please keep the game going. Never let it end. That's all I want. It can never end.]

This felt like such a sad fate but there was nothing Stanley could do for them, and they didn’t want to be remembered. And... he didn't know if he even cared. He hated this Being in a very different way than he hated the Narrator. He hated them for what they had done to his memories, for so fucking long now it seemed... and for trying to take away his... feelings and emotions. But, maybe in some sort of twisted way they didn't want him to go down whatever route it was they had when they had become real? 

And, this Being was the one that brought Stanley back to the parable in the Epilogue, after he had lost all hope of ever getting back. 

Stanley sighed, he felt so many mixed emotions. Why did everything have to be so complicated in this weirdass life of his?

[I'll be fine. As long as I can keep the settings where they need to be and as long as I can see the Player again, I'll be fine.]

He gave the computer a nod. And he wondered if maybe the Player was to this computer something like Stanley was to the Narrator, in a way.

[Ah, just one more thing, Stanley.]

‘Hmm?’

[Is the time that it is right now the correct time?]

...What? What time? There was no time in the parable, was there?

[Just kidding! I like to keep things light when I can!]

[Anyway, find what happiness you can and keep it I suppose. Just don’t let it interfere with the Player's. Or the game’s.]

[Goodbye.]

The game’s… happiness?

Then everything went dark.

…

Stanley opened his eyes. He was sitting in his office chair, his computer in front of him as always. He stood up and exited his office.

Taking a look around the communal office space he was not surprised to see it still looking rather festive.

“All of his coworkers-”

‘Narrator?’

“Stanley. You really can’t wait for me say my lines first?”

He wondered if the man had forgotten.

“...No,” the Narrator nearly whispered. “I haven’t forgotten your headaches and your- when you… Oh, Stanley, I must admit that I am a bit worried… that I might say the wrong thing and it will all happen again.”

The office worker shook his head. ‘I think I… fixed it?’

“Your head doesn’t ache anymore? And you're not overheating or whatever it was?”

Huh, "overheating"... that was an interesting way to put it. He figured the headaches and his pain were just another glitch that couldn't be helped. ‘I'm fine now. And I... remember everything.’

“E-Everything?”

Stanley could feel his face heating up. It was a little embarrassing to think of all the shit they had recently gone through, so sappy… but so-

The thought of the Narrator not remembering hurt worse than it ever had before.

“Oh, thank god,” the man suddenly said.

‘Huh?’

“I worried I was suddenly hit with a wave of very vivid romantic daydreams. Some less romantic, some quite painful even... But anyway, all of that did happen then?”

The office worker nodded.

“So, we’re-” he sighed, “what happened? Why had we forgotten so very much? Was it some sort of glitch?”

Stanley nodded again. 'Definitely a glitch. But I got it all sorted out!'

"I'm sorry, Stanley, but I find it hard to believe that you could fix something I couldn't."

'Listen. Don't worry about it,' he thought as he gave the ceiling the most menacing look of warning he could muster.

And it must've worked.

"Ah, uhm, a-alright. I'm quite exhausted from all of this anyway, perhaps I'm better off not knowing. ...For now."

The office worker rolled his eyes but he'd accept that. And he would continue to respect what his coworker had asked of him, he wouldn’t say a word. Hell, he couldn’t really properly explain everything that had happened anyway! Didn’t exactly understand all of it.

“Stanley are you blocking me out now?”

‘Sorry. I was just- gathering my thoughts. It’s all kind of embarrassing, isn’t it?’

“Painfully so. Perhaps we were better off not remembering some of that.”

‘Nah, it’s important. All of it was important. And… well, now we don’t have to worry about anymore of those tragic romantic endings or that awkward slow build up. We can just-’

“Don’t think I’ll be giving you any special treatment because of this little change in our relationship, Stanley. In fact, I will be holding you even more accountable for your actions now.”

The office worker was still smiling but rolled his eyes.

“Now, before any more discussion of just what all of that entails, I think we really should finish our Downloadable Content practice run! All of these holidays- oh, we’ll have to redo every last one! With much less… sappy soppy romantic nonsense,” the Narrator groaned.

‘Alright, alright. Maybe after a long break, though. Then we come back to it, I’m sure you can handle making them more… uhh, palatable I guess, for the Players.’

Stanley was confident, he knew the Narrator. He knew him so well.

“Why are you smiling like that, Stanley? Do you not understand my pain? Or do you simply not care?”

It was funny to think about how much they had both changed since the start of the game- their lives together. But none of these changes could ever "fix them" or make them "normal". They were weird and kind of fucked up, but they... were happy. Stanley couldn't sit still, he had to be out there purposefully pissing off the Narrator. And the Narrator, well, he would likely forever continue to be petty and whiny and bossy as hell-

“I put all of this work into perfecting the game for the Player while still attempting to make things entertaining for you, you know, Stanley! And all you can do is stand there and wave off the failure of all of my efforts with a smile?”

And Stanley was so thankful for that.

‘Stop whining and let’s get the New Years DLC “practice run” done!’

“W-Whining!? I- oh... oh that’s right, I had forgotten about New Years Eve. That is certainly a holiday many people celebrate.”

The office worker nodded, still smiling.

“That will be our last attempt at this and then we can finally get back on track.”

‘You got it, babe!’

“Stanley,” the Narrator gave a tired sigh as he reset the game.

Chapter Text

Stanley woke up at his desk, same as always. And he could recall the last ending he and the Narrator had just done, and he could recall every ending before that! Every holiday, every moment.

He took a look around the communal office space and was not surprised to see it looking nearly as festive as Christmas had! What felt like forever ago, the Narrator had mentioned wanting to run some Holiday DLC ideas by Stanley.

Tonight’s holiday? New Year's Eve, of course!

Stanley couldn't complain! The last holiday, fucking finally.

He nodded approvingly at the decorations. The lights in the office were dimmed to give purpose to the warm white Christmas lights that lined the farthest wall. Meanwhile, bright purple ones were strung up left and right, giving the room a cozy cool sort of atmosphere. His eyes were then drawn to the nearby windows and the dark, almost black, midnight blue sky that lay beyond them. He wondered if there would be fireworks out there at some point tonight.

With another glance around the room, Stanley could see in the glow of the purple lights were little star shaped confetti of silver and gold scattered about on the floor. The tables, however, were sprinkled with purple and green glitter. There were also some fun little yellow party poppers laying about.

“Yes," the Narrator suddenly said, "and those are not for eating, by the way.”

Stanley rolled his eyes, you eat one piece of mistletoe and you’re branded an idiot for life.

“Hardly the first idiotic thing you’ve ever done and surely not the last.”

Stanley shook his head but smiled.

As he walked further in he noticed the background music was a very soft, sweet, and... sort of melancholy sounding smooth jazz rendition of that one New Year's song… he couldn’t remember the name.

“It’s ‘Auld Lang Syne’, love.”

Stanley’s heart ached in a warm sort of way at the term of endearment. Trying to ignore the sappy feeling, he snapped his fingers and nodded.

‘Ah, right, right. Auld Lang Syne.’

There was a certain softness in the Narrator’s voice as he said, “Shall we begin, Stanley?”

He nodded again.

“All of his coworkers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to head to the warehouse. Perhaps that was where this year’s New Year's Eve party was being held.”

Warehouse, huh?

‘Ya know,’ Stanley thought as he made his way down the hall and into the next, ‘we didn’t have a New Year's DLC after Christmas last time.’

“Yes well, I will be honest... I just hadn’t thought of it. It isn’t as if it’s ever an actual new year for us, technically.”

‘That’s fair.’

“But I do think this is a rather nice way to end our little holiday adventures though. Back to normal after this- well, a bit of a new sort of normal but normal nonetheless.”

‘Giving up on all of this being DLC?’

“Perhaps someday we can try again. I’d prefer the game to not have so much fluffy nonsense, though. And really, I can’t even begin to tell you how much I miss watching you exploring the parable and making me miserable like usual, Stanley.” His eye roll could practically be heard.

Stanley held back a laugh as he nodded.

The office worker found that he actually did want to do the Freedom Ending for once. He actually missed it. He missed just goofing around, exploring the parable, no need to ‘make a proper DLC' or be stuck in wanting to explore his feelings because of some sort of glitch or what the fuck ever.

It was funny to think about, though, that both he and the Narrator missed their 'same old same old'. If they were truly both on the same page about this then the need for some repetition must have been hardwired into his and the Narrator’s very beings it seemed.

He walked along through the office and noted that the hall with door 417 was also decorated in those warm white lights and it made the hallway feel so cozy. He was tempted to close both doors to the little hallway to see how pissed the Narrator would get... but he showed great restraint as he instead continued on until finally arriving at the two doors room.

“When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he took the door on his right.”

He began walking towards the door on the right.

Then he stopped-

And walked through the door on the left. He could only show so much restraint and kindness in a day, you know.

“Seriously!? During our final Holiday Downloadable Content, Stanley? And after all the kisses I’ve given you.”

‘Sometimes more than just kisses,’ Stanley teased with an impish smile.

The Narrator gasped, “Stanley! Have some decorum! Hmph, it seems that being in a relationship hasn’t changed you at all! Still as immature as ever.”

‘Ditto.’ He pointed at the ceiling with a wink.

“Is that it,” the Narrator’s voice took a dark turn, “would you like me to perhaps add another death ending to our Holiday Downloadable Content? Was being crushed in a collapsing warehouse and nearly mauled by monster trucks not enough for you?”

Stanley silently chuckled. ‘You’re so cute when you get all grumpy.’

“Oh, s-shut the hell up!”

‘Hah, what are we in prescho-’

“Fuck off! How’s that?”

‘Ohhh, straight up profanity? How uncouth. I love it.’

The Narrator let out a cute little squeak of shock and probably embarrassment.

‘Let me know if I’m crossing any lines you don’t want me to. ...Or if there’s any you very much do want me to.’ He smirked.

“This is not another Valentine’s day ending! Behave yourself or there’ll be no New Year’s kiss at the end of this.”

‘Okay, okay!’ He stopped in the hallway and looked up at the ceiling.

Most of the time when Stanley couldn't stop smiling it was when he was being mischievous or listening to the Narrator go off on a hilarious rant. But right now he was just... so excited! He was even bouncing in place a bit now. Things were actually... changing? Hell, so much all at once had already changed even.

‘Sorry,' he began, 'I’m just excited! I mean, after everything that’s happened! So damn much has happened. And now we’re kind of- ...’ his eyes widened, ‘oh my god. We’re kind of... a couple now?’

The Narrator gave a tired little huff of a sigh, “You sure catch on quick, don’t you sport? You did hear me say ‘being in a relationship hasn’t changed you at all’ quite literally a minute ago, did you not?”

Stanley scratched the back of his head. Oh right, he did say that.

‘Sooo, we can kiss and date and…’ he waggled his eyebrows again as he paused a moment before continuing, ‘whenever we want?’

“Ah, w-well, ahem! So long as the game is not being played of course! Although, for now, I'd really rather you stop attempting to throw me off! I’ll not have you derail our final Downloadable Content! We can be… mushy or whatever you’d like to call it when we are not in the middle of a new ending.”

‘Gimme a break! These were all practice runs, not actual new endings.’

“Nonetheless, you’ll have to have done the Freedom Ending before I’d spend the next one begrudgingly being any sort of fluffy or romantic with you. And even then I shudder at the thought.”

‘Hah! You can't even pretend anymore, I know you don’t mean that.’

“Unfortunately,” he sighed, “as much as I am loath to say it- you're right. Unfortunately, I am much too fond of you. So yes, so long as you haven’t upset me in a while, we can do all of that whenever you, and I, would like. Even…”

…

‘Huh? Wait, was that pause just then you doing the eyebrow waggle? You know I can’t see you when you're in Voice Mode.’

“...Good god. Your idiocy is rubbing off on me,” he groaned.

‘That’s not the only part of me that’s-

“Stanley!!!”

He laughed as he continued down the hall, stopping when he got to the meeting room door. Which was... locked?

‘Hey!’

“You’ll have to backtrack to the two doors room to get to the lounge, I suppose. Perhaps, maybe, you should have listened to me.”

Stanley shook his head as he began to backtrack.

Alright alright, off to the lounge, he thought as he got back to the two doors room and entered the door on the right. As he walked down the hall, Stanley thought about how funny it was that, for these DLCs, the Narrator never said his dialogue for the hallway to the lounge like he normally did. Maybe he forgot?

Any writer might forget so trivial a thing, really. Even a writer who has played the game many, many, many times before.

Ah well!

The Narrator did, however, always have new lounge dialogue, and the lounge dialogue was what Stanley loved best about this route.

“Ah, yes, the lounge,” the Narrator sighed, “’oh the times we’ve spent in this place together,’ Stanley thought to himself. Was he, perhaps, thinking about his wife? No, she wasn’t actually real. Was he thinking about... the bucket? Absolutely not.”

Stanley rolled his eyes.

“He was thinking about the Narrator. ...His narrator, who he was constantly causing ever so much grief and emotional turmoil.”

The office worker held back a laugh.

“And yet, his narrator still loved him very dearly.”

Wow, what the hell? That was so sappy. Stanley did his best to hold back from thinking anything sappy in return.

“Like how much you would enjoy kissing your Narrator, right now?”

‘Shut up.’ He continued through the lounge. ‘Stop being so… fluffy or whatever, it’s killing the mutual animosity between us. We will not be one of those annoyingly fluffy kinda couples.’

“Ha! You were to be one of those sorts of couples with your wife, you know.”

‘I grew out of it,’ he waved the words away.

“Oh, have you?” Narrator teased again.

The office worker ignored him as he continued on, out of the lounge and down the hall to the warehouse.

When he entered the warehouse the Narrator began again, “Stanley had to decided to sneak out of work for this special occasion, to go watch the New Year’s fireworks.”

He stopped at the cargo lift and looked down, 'Hey, maybe next time instead of a pool ending we can try out a hot tub ending?'

"...You may not be able to see my expression right now, Stanley, but rest assured I am glaring disapprovingly."

'Come on!! It'll be fun-'

"Will you please stick to this script for five minutes. I know it's hard for you to focus, but please Stanley, just follow along for once, won't you?"

The office worker bit his lip as he held back a laugh. 'Okay, okay. Uhh, hey, by the way,' he started as he hopped onto the lift, 'can you say the thing when I jump down?’

“What thing?”

‘You know, when you freak out about me jumping onto the catwalk.’

“Why?”

‘Because…’ Stanley sighed, it was cheesy but, ‘I love your line delivery there.’

“A-ah, oh, uhm,” he stuttered and muttered, clearly flustered. “I am most certainly not flustered! Don’t you give me that look, Stanley.”

The office worker just smiled, he was happy to placate his companion a bit and he also did really enjoy that line.

The trip halfway across the warehouse was short as usual and when the time came- he jumped!

“Wha- really!?" the Narrator cried out in what sounded like a genuinly incredulous manner. "I was in the middle of something, do you have zero consideration for others?”

Stanley laughed.

“Are you that convinced that I want something bad to happen to you? Why, I don’t know how to convince you of this but I really do want to help you, to show you something beautiful.”

'Something beautiful, huh? I dunno if I can believe that.' Stanley thought to himself, pretending to be unsure of trusting his companion, though, knowing the Narrator he very well could just be messing with him about wanting to have a nice little New Year's Eve party.

“Look, let me prove it,” the Narrator continued. “Let me prove that I’m on your side. Give me a chance.”

The office worker shook his head but went along, through the entrance to the back rooms until he finally made it to the red and blue doors.

“Now, listen carefully, this is important. Stanley walked through the red door.”

The pull to go to the blue door was so strong. But he bravely resisted and went into the red.

“Oh! I- I wasn’t prepared for that. Look at you,” the Narrator said very warmly, “listening to me for once. Being such a good little office worker for me.”

‘Shut up.’ Stanley tried to wave off the words as his face heat up.

“As Stanley entered the red door he could feel his heart beating faster. Red was the color of hot fiery passion, so what could walking through this door hold in store for him? He wondered as he continued deep into the hall behind it.”

The office worker didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or slam his face into the wall to hide his blush. How could he still be so easily flustered like this after everything?

Pathetic.

“Stanley had never cared much for fireworks before, he didn’t hate them, they just weren’t on his mind much. But now... he was suddenly buzzing with anticipation for them. He was absolutely tingling with excitement at the thought of seeing them, and seeing them with the Narrator... my goodness.”

The office worker's face was prickling with heat as he finally thought, ‘What the hell are you even implying, right now??? And anyway, I thought you said this wasn’t another Valentine’s day ending?’

“Stanley, there’s nothing I can do about you reading into what I say. I am a writer, once my work is out there it can be interpreted however you’d like. Though, I will reiterate that there is most assuredly, as always, a correct way to interpret my works.”

The office worker shook his head deciding to ignore his annoying companion, going round and round in this strange loop of a hallway. And the Narrator did the same as he remained oddly quiet now.

Finally a light shone and the door to the Zen Room opened. Stanley hesitated as he looked into the dark void behind the door... 'There better not be any cardboard cut-out pop ups in here.'

He heard a light chuckle before the Narrator sighed, "While I enjoyed watching you fall to the floor in surprise, it wasn't particularly fun when it happened to me. So no, I won't be bringing those back. Not anytime soon, at least."

'Alright, no Halloween hijinks for a while, but does this also mean we'll never have another snowball fight either? Ya know, because I totally won our last round.'

"Smashing snow into someone's hand is not winning the fight, Stanley! Don't think I'll be forgetting that little incident anytime soon. Now hush! I'm preparing the room."

Stanley stood outside the entrance to the Zen Room.

Huh, "preparing it"?

Had he put together a big romantic set up? Dinner, wine? Another starry night picnic like that one time-

"Stanley, come along, we haven't got all reset!"

The office worker rolled his eyes, then took a deep breath, preparing for anything as he walked in.

The room was dark but dimly aglow with a beautiful rainbow of soft lights hovering above.

Stanley didn’t exactly have fond memories of this place, but when he saw the Narrator, in his human form, standing there in the middle of the room, smiling in awe as he watched the lights dance… The office worker could only smile in return.

The first time he’d ever encountered this ending, he found that sitting there in silence by himself had gotten boring very fast. But with the Narrator here in person and the game being off, there were so many ways Stanley could make this fun.

He could now more easily tease and taunt the man. He could hold the Narrator's hand as he listened to him blather on and on. He could kiss him, hold him close, and take him in his arms and-

“Ah, Stanley! Do you like what I’ve done to the place? I hope you’ll notice how I threw in a few new colors and new light patterns to give even more of an illusion of fireworks!”

The office worker nodded as he gave his companion a sly smile, ‘I like it but… is this really it? No bigger plot? Where’s the creativity? Where’s my motivation?’

“I am not a machine, Stanley! And I’m... so very tired.” He sighed, “I was meant for short stories not… whatever the hell this has all turned out to be.”

‘Relax, I’m only kidding.’

“Relax? Relax?? How am I to relax when you are constantly making my life so much more difficult- AH! Uhm,”

Stanley had grabbed him by his stupid bright yellow bow-tie. He stared into those silly yellow tinted glasses of his, stared at those much too pretty green eyes of his. His gaze then traveled down to the man’s lips.

“Oh...” the Narrator breathed in a near whisper.

Stanley leaned down and didn't hesitate to press their lips together. Soft at first, then heavy with need.

He kissed him like he’d done it so many times before. He kissed him like it was the first time and very well might be the last time. He kissed him as if he were trying to memorize the feel of the man’s lips.

Stanley didn’t want to forget… from the warmth that came from those chill lips to the pain that they could bring with harsh words. He didn’t want to forget a single thing.

Remembering how the Narrator had forgotten so many things so effortlessly before… it made his heart ache.

He suddenly felt the Narrator’s chilly hands on the back of his head, his neck, holding him closer, pulling him in. Stanley’s moved his own grip to the Narrator’s arms, clutching at him, holding him close in return.

He used his own lips to part the Narrator’s.

"Mmm," the man hummed against him as he-

...Suddenly cut off the kiss, earning him a nasally little whine from the Narrator that almost made him burst out laughing.

Instead, he stared at the man in his arms and breathlessly thought, ‘Drinking peppermint tea again?’

“Ah…” the Narrator breathed heavily, “thought it would be a nice sort of bookends to our little drama. Not to mention,” he whispered against Stanley's lips, “I wrote you, I know how much you love peppermint.”

The office worker brought their lips together once again. One soft kiss, then harsher. The Narrator returned that harsh press as he laced his chill fingers in the office worker’s hair, pulling him in with something of an angry groan.

Stanley was now held so close he could barely move his lips to deepen the kiss again. He was fully caught in his companion's hold. But he instantly understood, the Narrator was angry at him, but not for the usual reasons. This was anger brought on by worry. Stanley could feel the “don’t ever scare me like that again, you little shit” in the Narrator’s grip in his hair, in the press of his lips and little grumble of anger that came with it.

When the Narrator eased up a bit on his hold to deepen the kiss, though, Stanley could hardly think anymore.

The cold heat of his companion’s tongue against his own gave him a chill of hot tingles all over his body, quickly turning to a fluttery warmth that made him grip the man tighter. The Narrator's own hold on him- a hold so real and so intense... it made his mind feel so fuzzy in such a nice warm way for once. And suddenly, in that moment, everything about the Narrator, everything about the two of them together…

Nearly brought Stanley to tears. How easily he could have lost it all…

The office worker was always able to bounce back rather quickly from various sorts of trauma and always ready to cause the Narrator more annoyance than ever. Quick recovery was the case for the Narrator as well, it seemed. Maybe it was just in the nature of the game, the resets had some healing sort of property or something? Or maybe it was just in the nature of who they were. Either way, he was always thankful for it because it made holding any sort of grudges impossible. Sometimes sadness or anger lingered, but never stayed very vibrant in their minds for too long. He had no idea how good he had it back in the early days.

As mentioned before, Ultra Deluxe gave him real fear and he kept that with him, dull as it got over time, it still always stayed with him in the back of his mind.

And this recent stuff… did not help.

Stanley closed his eyes tighter when he felt the unwanted tears welling up in his eyes. He held the Narrator close as he could and tried to focus on the here and now but suddenly he could taste-

The salt of tears.

He pulled back and looked at his companion’s now tear streaked cheeks.

Stanley fought to keep any of his own tears from falling as he thought, ‘Are you crying?’

“Oh, shut up, Stanley.” He wiped at his eyes. “You’re no better. You... you're so awful to me. You really worried me last time.”

Stanley nodded, ‘I was a little scared too.’ Maybe he was more than just a little scared, to be honest.

At least before he experienced the Epilogue he was always able to chalk up any ending that worried him to ending up just being the Narrator’s silly mean-spirited nonsense. But now, he was always a little more fearful, a little more knowledgeable in the fact that there was a being who knew more than the Narrator and had a little or a lot more control than him.

Other than the Curator, of course. But the Curator seemed too chill and too busy running the museum to want to cause them trouble. And the parable itself was, well, it was a bit more random in its own resets and glitches and whatnot. But if he thought too much about the game itself having its own sort of life- well, that was just too much thinking. No thanks!

Then there was... and he made sure to full block his thoughts from the Narrator now- there was employee 432… this was both someone who made him worry a lot but also... someone he worried a little for. After all, how could he not share some sympathy?

That person had been one of his coworkers. That person... could have just as easily been him.

Even after he was chosen as the main character- at any point, he still could have lost himself. Finding out he was truly just fictional all along- that could have fully broken him. Finding himself stuck in an endless silent loop of desert- he could have so easily given up.

That pull of the Player, though, he thought, really did make up a part of who he was these days. As much as the Narrator had to do with Stanley gaining his own sort of sentience, he was certain now that the Player had a lot to do with his growing personality taking shape as well. Maybe... that was the secret to his success with employee 432? They seemed to like the Player. So maybe the part of the Player that had somewhat had a hand in shaping Stanley is what made him likeable to that computer... and also made him unknowable in some odd way.

Despite all the strangeness of his life and how he came to be, though, Stanley was able to find some sense, some fun, in the parable and with the Narrator. He didn’t think the same could have happened for 432- who, not having the Player help shape them, only had the Narrator and... the parable? It was hard to tell what happened there, or even what happened here with Stanley. But thinking on it couldn't really do much for him, or them, or anyone.

Although he still felt a little bad for his coworker, whatever may have happened to them, it seemed that they too had found some sort of peace in their own situation.

Maybe this was just the way things had to happen. Not in a fate or destiny sort of way. All of that honestly didn’t mean much to Stanley. However, he thought that maybe some things just had a way of falling into the right place sometimes without meaning to? And when they didn’t, it was up to us to accept whatever the situation may be and adapt as needed. Change our way of thinking or change our methods.

Just take the shitty hand you were dealt and if you can’t play poker with it then make a little house of cards instead, or something like that.

At least, that’s what Stanley always did. And it never ceased to piss off the Narrator. Which was a nice little bonus.

“Stanley? Stop thinking to yourself, that’s rather rude, you know.”

Things weren’t much different for the Narrator- constantly having to adapt to the situation, having to think quick on his feet at all times to keep things interesting and to keep Stanley from completely destroying his story.

And for a moment, Stanley wondered, if the Narrator ever knew about 432… would what happened even matter to him, would he care?

Sometimes it seemed he didn’t care at all about anything that wasn’t about his story or himself. Other times it seemed he cared too much about absolutely everything.

Especially Stanley.

He was always so Stanley focused it was hard to believe for even a moment that anyone else had ever been his main character. And that he forgot or- and more likely, it was just another thing that was purposefully wiped from his memory.

“Stanley!”

Either way, he made his choice. He chose Stanley. Not only as his main character but as his companion etc etc all that sappy sort of stuff.

The office worker looked at the Narrator. The rainbow lights that danced around them colored his silly little pout in a glow of reds and blues, greens and purples, then a nice warm yellow... right before Stanley leaned in and kissed him again.

And he kissed him with every memory he had ever had, every feeling he had ever had. Every intense bottled up emotion that had been erased so long ago now flowed into a wave of both love and hate and everything in between.

Some memories… he truly hadn’t wanted back at first. But now, he relished in the pain of them, in the heartache, just as much as in the joy and fondness he had missed so much.

Being real was so much more than just laughter and love and friendship, it was anger and hurt and pain. Pain that stung so deeply. And he and the Narrator had caused each other so much of it, in so many ways.

Stanley had been abandoned at times, he had been rejected. And he had done the same to the Narrator- he’d imagined the man must’ve had those once lost memories on his own mind now.

And with all of these memories in tact... Stanley was a little worried it might lessen any feelings of love they had towards each other.

He worried about this for exactly three seconds before realizing- Nope! In fact, it was quite the opposite!

In some strange way, these memories made him love the Narrator even more. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, every newfound bit of hate he had made his love all the more intense. And considering how many little happy kissing sounds his companion was humming against his lips right now, Stanley had to assume the Narrator felt the same.

They were so fucking weird, and Stanley absolutely loved that about them.

And while he hated to pull away from the kiss at the moment, he sadly had to. 'Hey, I’m gonna fall on my ass if we have to keep standing like this. Let’s sit.’

“Hmm? Oh, yes, of cour- AH!!!” The Narrator tumbled down onto the floor as Stanley dragged him along.

The office worker laughed as he sat up. His companion merely gave a grumpy pout as he righted himself.

Ignoring the man's little grumbles of indignation, Stanley leaned back on his hands, looking up at the beautifully blooming lights above.

“Hmph,” the Narrator mumbled as he scooted close to the office worker.

“You see, Stanley, it’s just as I said in the Anniversary Ending. The Zen Room is quite the romantic location when the game is off.”

He couldn’t disagree but he silently gave a little laugh, ‘Are we calling those endings now?’

“Well, I’m not sure what else to call them. They’ll certainly not be Downloadable Content.”

‘That’s fair. Hey, wait a minute. In that ending you said in the next ending you’d do whatever I said!’

“Stanley,” he started softly, “do you, perhaps, think that maybe I… forgot!” he ended with an irritated shout. “That was the entire problem with our little holiday situation, you dolt!!”

‘...Oh, yeah.’ The office worker had his memories back- yes, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a little bit of-

“-An idiot?”

‘Screw you.’

As the Narrator opened his mouth to respond, Stanley leaned over and placed his hand over the man’s lips.

‘Don’t.’

The Narrator gave an annoyingly cute little chuckle as he removed Stanley’s hand from his mouth, holding it, looking it over in the rainbow lights for a moment or two.

The soft press of his companion’s fingers into his palm gave him pause, but he continued, ‘Maybe I’m not the smartest guy around sometimes but at least I’m not as much of a jerk as you are most of the time.’

The Narrator gave him an angry glare, but it only lasted a second or two before he went back to looking over Stanley’s hand in his own.

Then he held it close against his heart.

That… took Stanley's breath away. All anger melted away as he felt his companion’s heartbeat. There were times in their early days he honestly wasn’t so sure the man even had a heart. But these days he could feel it. And he found that he wanted to memorize the strange pattern of its beating.

The Narrator lowered both of their hands, just holding them together as he went back to staring at the lights above.

The office worker sighed as he looked back up at the “sky” as well and they both sat there, side by side, staring at the beautiful lights for some time.

Stanley wasn’t bored at all now like he had been the first time he’d ever come here. He was, however, very tired. With a silent yawn he leaned against the Narrator and closed his eyes. Not to sleep! He wasn’t so pathetic that he couldn’t stay awake on New Year's Eve. He just had to rest his eyes for a moment, that's all.

“Happy New Year, Stanley,” the Narrator whispered.

‘Happy New Year, you sap.’

…

…

...

Stanley woke up at his desk. And he thought about that nice warm New Year's Eve he had just spent with his companion in the Zen Room.

They had kissed and watched the firework-like lights glitter and glow above them, and then… still tired from everything that had been happening recently and apparently even longer…

Stanley fell asleep.

How embarrassing. How pathetic.

He just knew the Narrator would make fun of him for it, love and romance be damned.

The office worker got up out of his chair and entered the communal office space.

“Stanleyyy,” the Narrator cooed.

Oh? He sounded so... loving. Maybe he wouldn’t be a jerk about thi-

“I can’t believe after all that hard work I put into our little New Year's Eve party you would up and fall asleep like that!” he grouched. “The nerve!”

The office worker sighed, but he was smiling.

“You had better not be falling asleep on me like that again any time soon. ...Anywho! We’ve done quite enough romance endings in a row to last a lifetime, so I think we should get back on track!”

Stanley was no longer smiling.

“Well, just for a little bit, love. Can’t get a romance ending every time, you know. That Freedom Ending might free us one day, so we must keep at it!”

Stanley couldn’t deny that he did sort of miss those good old aggravating each other kind of days. And whether it would ever work or not he did have a sort of fondness for the Freedom Ending.

But at the same time... at the moment… he-

“Oh, Stanley, are you really that touchy-feely that you need a kiss from me right now? So soon after we just had so many?” he said teasingly.

The office worker could feel his cheeks as well as the tips of his ears heating up. It was sort of embarrassing.

“Hmm, to be quite honest, I can’t say that I don't also- well, that is to say… I also, uhm…”

‘You want another kiss too, huh?’ Stanley smiled, feeling a little less embarrassed.

“This will certainly take some getting used to, setting a proper balance of genres per ending. However! For now, I believe I’ve just come up with a rather interesting new romantic ending we could give a go. If you’ll follow my lead for once.”

Stanley nodded and took off, happily following his narrator’s guidance.

After all this time, it seemed they had finally made some leeway in this place. It seemed like things in the parable were finally changing for the two of them.

“Stanley, the LEFT door! Must we go through this every single time?!”

And some things, of course-

“Did- did you just stick your tongue out at me?! Ah, yes of course, the finger now. If you're trying to goad me into coming down there before I’ve even gotten to the new ending, I can assure you that won’t be working. We have to do this the right way! Put a proper narrative to it!”

- would always stay the same.

“Stanley, I can’t tell if that was a sarcastic blowing of a kiss or genuine? ...Must you always aggravate me when I’m only trying to- Stanley!!!”