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Florida Man Gives Gay Dating Advice

Summary:

After their eventual success in preventing the S4 apocalypses (plural)… somehow, Larry finally agrees to go on a date with Rama. Unfortunately, Cliff has opinions about how to make the date a success.

Notes:

To my gf, who can't get over how Cliff might be supportive in all the wrong ways.

Also, where is all the Negative 104 fic and Crazy Fog? Ya'll.

Work Text:

Larry didn’t have a surfeit of outfit choices. It was, essentially, the same set of jackets, turtlenecks, and loose trousers over again in his closet with one stray Hawaiian shirt that Rita had insisted on for one evening when she’d arranged a Luau Night back in the 90s. Which Cliff did not enjoy. Not that Larry had been the life of the party either. But if Rita had decided they needed to have a party, whether it be the New Year’s celebration, or Cliff’s rebirthday, Larry attended, alongside a chorus of groans.

 

Maybe he could just wear the regular turtleneck and pants. Did he need a jacket? He did tend to notice the cold more than others, but the cold didn’t really hurt him. Not any more than heat did. If anything, it energized him.

 

Keeg glowed merrily in his chest. It didn’t matter to him what Larry wore.

 

“You’re just happy I’m going, huh, kiddo?” Larry smiled slightly and rolled his shoulders back.

 

It was a relief, having his vitality and longevity back. Nothing was a guarantee. He still might die. Anyone could die, at any time, really. But with that little spark of magic, his joints and muscles didn’t complain so sharply. He was less of a walking open wound. Physically, anyway.

 

Keeg’s light crackled as he popped out and looked at Larry quizzically.

 

“Yeah… it’s been a minute since I did anything like this. Are you coming?”

 

Keeg circled around the room energetically but didn’t leave. Of course. He wanted to stick close to his dad after all they’d been through. Time travel, near death, facing down a god, and a musical battle alongside a nation of werebutts. Funny, how their lives weren’t getting any less weird as time went on.

 

He picked up the Hawaiian shirt…. Then grimaced and put it back.

 

“Stick with the classics, I guess.”

 

Larry looked down at his bandages and gave them a sniff. He didn’t trust anymore that he’d notice if the bandages were wafting off an odor. He went into his small, closed off bathroom. He had time for a quick shower and a fresh wrap-up.

 

* * *

 

To Larry’s surprise, when heads turned as he descended the staircase into the day room, he’d could sense he’d disappointed them, somehow. Or just Cliff. Amusement danced across Jane’s face. (It was probably Jane, from the casual splay of her legs over the couch cushions and the boot planted resolutely at the edge where it was sure to leave a print that would infuriate Rita.) Cliff, though, somehow managed to express disappointment over his immobile features, which was probably a latent characteristic of dad skills he'd never been able to make use of in his former life since Clara had been too young to really disappoint.

 

“Slow day?” Larry drawled as he descended.

 

“Aren’t you going on a date?” Cliff asked. “Should you be… y’know?” He shimmied his leather-clad shoulders. “Showin’ a little skin? Wink wink!”

 

Jane snorted.

 

 “Yeah, sure,” Larry said. “Seems romantic. Go for a snug V-neck, have everyone around me literally melt and die.”

 

“Cliff was all expecting a romcom staircase moment,” Jane said.

 

“Lucky thing you weren’t.”

 

“Karen’s homophobic,” Jane breezed with a shrug.

 

Larry set his hand on the newel. “Grrreat.”

 

“Yeah, it is. ‘Cause it means she doesn’t give a shit about this or me and Shelley, so she not all like… tryin’ to give you a makeover or some shit.” Jane tilted her head to the side. “Actually, she’d probably try to get you to give her a makeover… which would be pretty fucking hilarious.”

 

“I’m okay with opting out of that.”

 

“You could at least put on some tight DILF jeans,” Cliff suggested. “Dudes are all about the butt, right?”

 

Cliff emphasized his point by holding his hands out as if squeezing—

 

Nope.

 

Larry hooked his thumb over his shoulders. “I’m gonna go now?”

 

“Aww,” Jane teased. “He’s embarrassed.”

 

“Every moment of my life,” Larry agreed.

 

“Oh!” Cliff rose from the bench with a squeak that suggested his joints needed some lube. “We should grab some of Rita’s stash! Rule number one of a first date—"

 

Not a first date. I’ve met Rama.”

 

“But you’ve never been on a date! It’s totally fucking different!” Cliff insisted. “At first you’re like… vibes? And then you’re like, lemme take this ex-cultist villain I found home to my family through a portal, and then—” He turned to Jane with a nod. “—you like, save the world or some shit. And then, you take it to pound town!”

 

Larry sighed. “My god, Cliff.”

 

“I’m being supportive! So we crack open Rita’s secret cabinet in the atrium, and we, y’know, get your pre-game on!”

 

“Pre-game?”

 

“Oh my god, yeees!” Jane said, wicked glee illuminating her eyes.

 

“Pre-game!” Cliff shouted.

 

Larry took a step back.

 

“Pre-game!” he said again.

 

Oh no.

 

Cliff was going to chant.

 

“Pre-game! Pre-game! Pre-game!”

 

Jane, the spirit of chaos that she was, joined in.

 

“Pre-game! Pre-game! Pre-game!”

 

Time to practice one of his newer skills, floating up and zipping out the door.

 

To his chagrin… Cliff followed him.

 

“Don’t you need one of those hankies?”

 

“Why don’t you give Jane dating advice?” Larry begged.

 

“I tried. Hammerhead chucked me down the stairs.”

 

“And that wasn’t a sign?”

 

“So like, the hankies, they like let people know if you want to pitch or catch or—”

 

“NO.” Larry stopped and dropped back to the ground. He’d ended up in the kitchen trying to avoid Cliff, and he didn’t know why he’d headed here of all places. The only other place to go was the dining room or that breakfast nook where they tended to have team meetings.  “The hankie code is for cruising. Not dating. With dates, you just talk to your partner. Ask for what you want.”

 

“Oh. Ohhh… So the hankies are like… for when you just want to tap some ass. Like old school swiping right.”

 

“I…” Larry was about to object, but that wasn’t entirely wrong. “Yeah. Kinda.”

 

“What was your color?”

 

“I didn’t use them. That wasn’t a thing until later, and anyway, I didn’t… go out to gay bars. Drove John crazy. We never… went anywhere. Really.” Larry retreated to the window and looked out. His greenhouse could be seen from there. He needed to remember to get fertilizer for his orchids.

 

“Where are you going now?” Cliff pressed. “Not a gay bar, I guess.”

 

“Hm. I dunno. Rama said it would be a surprise, and I’m trying not to be an annoyingly anxious wreck about being out in public somewhere that’s not a mission or a Costco.” Larry shrugged. “I probably can’t cause a national disaster just by going out.”

 

Cliff put his hand on Larry’s shoulder.

 

This is why you need to get your drink on before you go. Get loooose.”

 

“As great as that advice is, I’m gonna pass.”

 

“Aw.” Cliff stepped back. “Well, he’s crazy about you anyway. Plus, if you go all radioactive explody, he can shoomph into something to keep people from dying. So you don’t got that much to worry about.”

 

“Like that ever stopped me before.” In spite of the dry words, Larry felt a bit better, remembering that no matter what, neither he nor Rama would let the other go critical.

 

This was not a normal concern for a first date. But then again, it wasn’t normal to go on your first real first date when you were only three years shy of being a century old.

 

“I’m not that worried. I just… I feel like I’m not doing it right.” Larry turned away from his greenhouse.

 

“You’re not supposed to feel like you’re doing it right,” Cliff argued. “You’re supposed to be like… I dunno. Some kind of sweaty mess. Like a crazy quilt with all the pieces shoved together wrong, or… one of those fucked up ants that shoves itself into radio cracks or up the noses of birds and smothers them to death because it doesn’t know its ass from a hole in the ground.”

 

“I… What?’

 

“You gotta feel like… Like you’re guessin’ at everything. Wondering if you said the wrong thing or moved too fast or too slow. And you gotta actually fuck it up so you can say, hey, I was an idiot, and I’m sorry, and they’ll be like fine I know you’re a fucking idiot, and you’re both okay with that. If you don’t, then you don’t care, and everyone in this fuckin’ house knows you care.”

 

“Heh. I guess they do.”

 

Larry clenched and released his hands, feeling his nerves dancing along the scarred flesh hiding under his bandages. For the first time, in a long time, he wished he could take them off for this.

 

Not if they were going out, though. And that was the point. They’d spent time together in his room. Rama was familiar with his face. It wasn’t much like Larry to seek out situations in which he’d be vulnerable.

 

“Thank, Cliff. That part… not the worst advice I’ve heard you give.”

 

“I still think you outta wear some tighter pants. Borrow something from Vic. Everything he has is either workout gear or booty-huggers.”

 

Larry held up a hand. “And that’s enough… He’s here.”

 

“What, you just know that? For real?”

 

“For real. We did spend a lot of time in each other’s heads.”

 

“Huh.”  

 

Cliff’s clanking footsteps followed Larry back out to the front hall.

 

“Now you just gotta get in each other’s—”

 

Stop. Not on a first date.” Larry stopped at the bottom of the hallway stairs and leaned his head back. “What kinda guy do you take me for?”

 

Cliff chuckled. “You want me to drive you guys? I got the Tourino running. Sort of.”

 

“No thanks, Dad,” Larry said. “The two of us can fly.”

 

“Oh yeah. Well. Good luck. Wink wink.”

 

Larry waved him off and went out onto the portico. Rama was nearby, probably floating along as some kind of vaporous cloud. Heart beating out a raucous samba in his chest, Larry waited, folding his hands in front of him, glad Cliff had finally taken the hint to let him be a messed up crazy quilt on steps by himself. Get a moment of quiet before he found a new way to fuck things up.

 

In his chest, Keeg glowed in welcome as a greenish cloud descended and formed into the familiar and dear shape of Rama, whose interminable smile had already fixed on his face.

 

“Hey,” Larry said, his voice barely an exhale.

 

“Are you ready?”


“I-I guess. I wasn’t sure what to, um…” Larry shoot his head.

 

All the brains of a crazy ant.

 

“I did leave things a bit up in the air, didn’t I?” Rama’s grin widened, which shouldn’t even be possible. He pulled out a pair of tickets from his suit jacket, like he was unveiling a grand bouquet. “There’s an arboretum. Not too far. They have this exhibit called—” He spread his hands in front of him. “—Orchids Forever!”

 

Oh! An orchid exhibit? Really?” Larry almost smacked himself for sounding so ridiculously excited about… flowers. Could he be more of an awkward idiot? He shook his head. “Sorry. Sorry. That was…”

 

Rama squeezed Larry’s shoulder. “Exactly the reaction I was hoping for! Let’s go.”

 

“Yeah.” God, he still sounded so giddy. What a twit.

 

Well, if Cliff’s advice was correct, he was right on track. (That’s how you knew you were hopeless. Taking the advice of Florida Man personified.)

 

Hopeless as he was, he took Rama’s hand and led the way as he took them up into the air. Rama let out a slightly undignified sound as he let Larry take control for a moment before Keeg glowed more fiercely and they went up and up in altitude.

 

Above the world and its problems for a few minutes, Larry’s heartbeat surged and then settled, and he looked to Rama’s face, practically glowing in its own way. Larry could do this forever with him…

 

But he also thought he could manage to be in the world with him. And that was something Larry had never tried before. Not really.

 

Time to be brave, and, perhaps, a bit completely stupid and out of control.