Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Look, sweetie-pumpkin-rockstar, just hear me out—”

“I’m not listening to anything that you have to preface with ‘sweetie-pumpkin-rockstar’.”

“Alessandra liked it!”

“Because look at how well that turned out for the two of you.”

Chang grimaced. “Okay, whatever, just hear me out—”

“Similarly, I don’t want listen to anything involving that wretched – what was it called again, a keytar? I told you to get rid it – or anything that you have to announce from on top of my piano. Again, please get off.”

Instead, Chang stomped his feet down onto the keys, discordant notes drowning out Duncan’s gasp. “Oh, sure, when Winger and his posse need a jingle, you’re totally there! But when I want us to team up and take the musical world by storm—”

“Did you break the keys?!” Duncan tried to shove him away, or at least prevent his feet from grinding down and further cracking the , but Chang wriggled away and dragged his feet across the keyboard, voice increasing in pitch as he moved up the scale.

“Asian man on keytar and some British weirdo, we could have been huge!”

Chapter Text

“See, the difference between you and I,” Duncan said, angling his head so that it looked like he was focused on attaching his new cufflinks, while still watching Chang fume out of the corner of his eye, “is that I’m a productive member of the High Greendale Order, whereas you tricked your way in because you thought it would ‘get you chicks’. And you wonder why you got passed up for the promotion.”

“There weren’t even any chicks.” Shuffling closer, Chang stared at Duncan’s cuffs – specifically at the cufflinks, garish against the ratty tweed of Duncan’s jacket. “Only you.”

Choosing not to reply to that, Duncan permitted Chang to creep closer as he finished setting the cufflinks. Under normal circumstances, his society partner wouldn’t be allowed in his apartment – there were occasions where Duncan welcomed Chang’s company after a meeting, but not in his private abode, especially considering that Greendale members should never know another’s address. Today, however, was an opportunity to celebrate. What better way to do that than to flaunt his good fortune?

“What’s so special about those ugly things anyways?” Chang asked as Duncan topped off their brandy, unable to disguise his whine. By now he was hunched over, fixated as Duncan none-too-subtly flexed his wrists so that the cufflinks glinted in the light. “Bet they just mark you as the next offering.”

Duncan hesitated – Pelton had been awfully quick to go over the benefits and responsibilities of his new role – then scoffed. “You don’t have the clearance to know any of that! …it does give me free access to the pool.”

“The pool’s nasty.” Sighing in jealousy despite his rebuff, Chang touched the nearest cufflink lightly, almost unthinkingly.

Then suddenly he was leaning back, relaxing against the arm of the couch in that constructed-casual way he did when about to do something that would infuriate Duncan to no end.

“Y’know,” he said, enjoying the upper hand of a game that Duncan was still trying to figure out with a smirk, “I hear that Nadir and Barnes got their pesky little noses pretty close to some sensitive business, trying to figure out what happened to Bennett and Winger.”

And how disappointed the two aspiring private eyes would be if they learned how their ‘deceased’ friends were now happily reaping the benefits of devoting themselves full-time to the Order. Duncan doubted that this was an offhand conversation. “How do you know? You’re not supposed to be talking to them. Or anyone, for that matter. You’re in the lowest possible status, stop acting like you have free will.”

“You stop acting like you don’t want to talk to me! …me and Nadir are still Netflix friends. Sometimes we text. He lent me some money a few months ago, gotta pay him back at some point.”

Slowly understanding what Chang was trying to do, Duncan crossed his wrists to hide the cufflinks from the other man’s gaze. “You wouldn’t.”

“Of course not,” Chang said, hand to his chest in innocent offense, “but, if they just happened to find a clue that lead them not only to their pals, but to an entire conspiracy – well, I’m not going to stop those two from getting excited about it.”

“I knew we should have kicked you out the second you showed up,” Duncan said, snapping out one of the cufflinks hard enough to split some stray sleeve strands further and tossing it at Chang’s waiting palm with a snarl. “There you go, you big baby, I hope you’re happy now.”

Chang just laughed, turning it over in his hands and admiring it. Within a few seconds of looking at it closely, his grin fell. “Hey…you ever notice how our secret symbol looks kind of like an anus?”

“…well now I do.”

Chapter Text

“This,” Chang said, “is foolproof.”

The bartender set two shot glasses in front of them, next to the salt and lime slices, with a curt nod. Chang didn’t spare the salt and limes a glance before snatching up his shot and jabbing Duncan in the side when he didn’t grab his right away.

“I recall you saying that an hour and a half ago,” Duncan said, voice slow so that the full measure of his reproach wouldn’t be dulled by slurred words.

Chang huffed, shoving the shot into Duncan’s hand. “Yeah, and?”

“And,” Duncan said forcefully, raising his shot glass with a sneer, “you fool-proofed us having a flock of drunk birds for midnight. I notice we are still lacking in a flock of drunk birds. In fact, I’m not sure you really know how to foolproof anything. Otherwise, you…you’d be incredibly proofed. Where’s my bird?”

Chang raised an eyebrow. Duncan squashed the urge to rip it off. “Sorry man, didn’t know you were into poultry.”

Before retaliation could be formed, Chang was looping his arm and glass through Duncan’s arm. Duncan jerked but Chang pulled back, downing his shot as Duncan’s spilled onto his sweater when their bar stools teetered dangerously.

“Look…look at that, you toss,” Duncan whined, free hand fluttering over the mess. “You just made me waste good tequila there. Shame on you, you’re going to pay for that. Also? This was my nice jumper.”

Smugness rolling off in him in waves, Chang released Duncan’s arm. “Try getting more action than me now, drunky.”

Duncan paused at that, his brain whirring to catch up to the implications of that statement. It didn’t help that the buzz of conversation in the bar was growing steadily louder. “I’m sorry, that sounds like you were plotting something. You…said this was for both of us. That we’d both be able to get hot babes here.”

“I lied.” The barstool creaked as Chang tilted back, arms crossed and nose raised in the air. “I used y—”

Raucous cheering drowned him out. Disgruntled, Chang leaned forward in a sudden motion, gripping Duncan’s forearms to steady himself as he sat up, tilting his face so that he could yell into his ear.

“I used you, to make myself look better! ‘Cause you’re a loser who wears ugly sweaters to a bar. I’m irresistible compared to that.”

The cheering began to die out as Chang reverted back to his arms-crossed-leaned-back position, satisfied with his established superiority. Duncan pursed his lips and fixed Chang with a heavy gaze. “Then…where’s your babes?”

A sudden snarl was the only warning Duncan got before he Chang threw himself back into his personal space.

The cold air was a relief, he’d admit that. Duncan staggered onto the street, scrubbing his hands over his face and wincing at the pressure against the developing bruise on his cheek. A screech interrupted the brief peace.

“You can’t do this to me!” Duncan turned to see Chang thrashing in the grip of his aggravator, a burly cook who grunted when Chang’s sharp elbow clipped his shoulder. “I have babes to smooch at midnight!”

The cook dumped Chang onto the sidewalk. “You’re quarter of an hour off that, mate.”

“What?” Stumbling over Chang’s hip as the other man flopped to the ground, Duncan caught himself on the cook’s greasy sleeve and jabbed a finger against his chest. “You cannot be bloody serious, I spent an entire evening with this asshole for my midnight kiss, and…you are awfully blurry, you wouldn’t happen to have my glasses with you?”

The cook levelled him with what he assumed was an unimpressed look before turning back into the bar, leaving the two to a thick silence.

Eventually, a nudge to his ankle pulled Duncan out of his wallowing. “Yo,” Chang drawled when Duncan finally deigned to look down at him. “Help me up.”

Duncan did, but only when trying to kick Chang in the head brought him only dizziness and jabs at his aim. “I hope you’re happy,” Duncan said once they’d both stopped swaying. “I hope you had so much fun ruining me that it doesn’t matter if either of us got a kiss.”

“I was the one who tripped you up when we arrived,” Chang admitted, sounding almost wistful as they started to pick their way down the sidewalk. “And getting you on that rant about Freud? You were so loud, I barely had to try. That was pretty great.”

“Greater than scoring?”

“Woulda scored if you hadn’t sassed me.” Duncan snorted and shoved him. More accurately, he tried to shove him but wound up just awkwardly jamming his hand against the other man’s neck, who scrunched up his face and slapped it away. The two of them went quiet.

“I can fix this.”

Groaning, Duncan glared at Chang from the corner of his eye. “Really. Should we head back to the bar we were just banned from and turn back the clocks without anyone noticing?”

His derision was impaired by the distraction of Chang urgently tugging his sleeve, forcing him to spin on his heel and face him. When Duncan was able to open his eyes without feeling nauseous, Chang was gazing up at him with an expression that was significantly more solemn than he’d expected. “If it’s still in the hour, it’s gotta still count, right?”

“No. And even if it counted,” Duncan said, spreading his arms wide, “there’s no one else around! How could we find anyone willing within the hour?”

“Ugh, just…shut your mangled trap about this okay? No homo.”

Abruptly, Duncan remembered that his glasses were still back at the bar, likely bent beneath some sticky table, so he couldn’t try to puzzle out Chang’s expression before it was mashed up against his face. Duncan accidentally stooped down a couple of inches when Chang grabbed his collar, his own hands floundering in the air above the other’s shoulders.

It wasn’t much of a kiss – just a scrape of teeth against the corner of his mouth that lasted a few seconds longer than it needed to when Chang had trouble settling himself back onto the soles of his feet. Chang’s fingers twitched against wool as Duncan opened and shut his mouth several times.

“That…” He paused to swipe a dab of saliva off his cheek. “That was awful. Have you never done a New Year’s kiss? Because that was a disgrace.”

Chang scowled, shoulders dropping as he released Duncan’s sweater. “I actually had a wife, we got crazy at New Years! And shut up. I just saved us from total humiliation.”

“From who? There’s no one else around.”

The answer came in the form of a quick punch to Duncan’s upper arm. “I’m gonna hurl,” Chang spat as he tottered past, crossing his arms. “That was so freakin’ gay.”

“I’m sorry,” Duncan said, falling into step and shoving Chang’s shoulder, “but who was the instigator there?”

“Shut up, gaylord.”

“Oh ho. Tell me, where did that idea come from anyway – is there anything you need to get off your chest?”

“SHUT UUUUUUP.”

Chapter Text

“Look at me. I could snap your arm.”

When Duncan did not look up from his grading – couldn’t even deign to reply, the asshole – Chang adjusted himself noisily on the couch, sliding the banana back into his mouth with the wettest sound he could manage, then brought it back out with a pop.

“I said look at me. I’ll bite off your face. Break your neck. Loooooook at meeeeee.”

Finally, Duncan looked up, huffing when Chang thrust the banana back in. “Are you serious right now. Do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing? You haven’t even peeled that!”

“Mmf!” Chang had to pull it back out, coughing as he did. “Yeah, so?”

“Did you even wash that?”

“You ever wash yours?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Whatever.” Tapping the banana against his cheek, Chang moved from the couch to the desk, clambering on and crossing his legs. “You want me to rip off your nails or anything yet?”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed when one of Chang’s feet crinkled his papers. “You can’t honestly be trying to give me a subconscious pain kink.”

Rubbing his thumb up and down the peel, Chang shifted his gaze side to side as Duncan glared at him. “Um…no. That’d be weird. …why, do you want me to punch you?”

“Ben!” With a frustrated grunt, Duncan threw aside his pen and shoved at the other’s knees. “That isn’t how psychology works! Maybe! At the very least, you aren’t making it work. It’s just weird and off-putting.”

Now scowling, Chang hopped off the desk, tearing at the peel as he marched backwards to the door. “Fine! I don’t need your vanilla ass anyways!” With a vicious chomp he shoved the now exposed banana into his mouth; it came away bitten in half, bits splattered around his mouth as he garbled out a, “suck my DICK!”

“That was the least erotic thing I’ve ever seen, you arse!”

Chapter Text

Duncan had a feeling that his new roommate had misled him on a few things. The lighting was only “good” for a few seconds in between bouts of flickering, the hallway walls appeared to be more suspiciously grimy than a canvas for tenant creativity, and he had to sleuth around for the correct door because half the numbers were worn off.

But eventually he found it, and with a brief struggle with the lock and a reminder to call the movers with specific directions, he was finally in, and falling flat on his face.

“Hey, don’t trip,” Duncan heard as he picked himself back up, rubbing his nose and glaring blearily from the stack of two-by-fours (What? Why?) to his new roommate. Foot propped up on the back of the couch and head twisted in his direction on the arm, the man regarded him with mouth hanging open with half-chewed chips. What looked like a soap opera played on the tv behind him, rattling off what seemed to be Spanish. “I need those.”

Resisting the urge to start off this relationship through yelling, Duncan stepped over the two-by-fours. He almost held his hand out, but stuffed it into his pocket when the man made no effort to get up and greet him. “Er, of course. You’re Benjamin Chang? …do you want me to move those…?”

“Nope.” Chang shifted, and although Duncan couldn’t see anything over the couch he did hear a series of soft thumps of things falling to the floor. “You pick up groceries yet? I’m on my last bag of chips, can’t get anything out of the vending machine guy till next week.”

Perhaps it wasn’t too late to get that apartment that was just a bit farther from the school.

Chapter Text

This was a mistake. This whole investigation of furry subculture psyche, this infiltration, it was as immoral as his inklings of conscience had told him before this endeavour. And maybe it was the private message listing all his personal information that brought about this revelation and regret, but the point was that Duncan saw the error of his ways now and as such this should not be happening to him, ever.

immortaleltigre: n i mean who evn haz a frckin terrier as theyre fursona
immortaleltigre: lammmmmmmeeeooooo
woofcan: And yours is a tiger made out of fire!
immortaleltigre: duh its awesum and wicked n totes me?????
immortaleltigre: nyways point is u cant touch these losers
immortaleltigre: only i geta jerk em around so back off b4 i start blabbing
immortaleltigre: or mayb the prof neds a personal visit from el tigre??? >:) >:) >:)

Chapter Text

“Bride or groom?”

The man jerked, eyes glazed as he glanced over– either he was really high, or close to tears, but either way he looked as miserable as Duncan himself felt, if not more. Sympathetic, Duncan silently offered him a readily accepted flask.

“Bride,” he grunted before taking a messy gulp, slouching further into the pew without any regard vodka dripping down his chin and onto his shirt. Although the two of them were crammed into a back corner with a swarm of heads to obscure their vision, the man went back to staring forward.

Duncan hummed as he took the flask back. He’d only managed to catch a glimpse of the woman on her way down the aisle, but she was a catch – Alessandra, if his blurry vision when he’d double-checked the invitation this morning hadn’t deceived him, a Latina beauty that any fucking prick would be lucky to have. “I’m here for the groom myself – my cousin, he’s ten years younger than me. Has a fantastic job. Now he’s got a wife. Great for him, bloody great for him, I’m so happy.”

Snorting as Duncan took a swig and offered the flask again, the man gave him a sideways, appraising glance. “You wasted?”

“As the trash.”

“So if you and I slipped out to find we’re they’re stashing the wedding cake, think you could blow chunks on it?”

“Promise me some chimichangas and we have a deal.”

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, but did you say you’re here to get support for murderous tendencies?”

Biting back a groan, Chang turned around to meet the man trailing behind him with a glare. Some pasty nerd with a sweatervest, damn if that ever screamed anything other than ‘my loved ones are telling me I have an alcohol problem so I’m here to make them shut up.’ The rest of the group had already filtered out of the room, leaving only him, the Brit and the counselor nervously shuffling his papers.

“It was support for an uncanny tendency to suggest murder as a solution to basic problems, dick,” Chang snapped as he headed for the door, the other man still on his heels. “Don’t put words in my mouth, it’ll make me feel threatened.”

“That’s not a thing you’re supposed to come here for. You disturbed everyone, you know that, right?” Now the asshole was walking beside him, squinting from behind his glasses as Chang scowled and hunched his shoulders. “Especially when you started giving examples of past suggestions. Did you notice that most of your scenarios involved a phallic murder weapon?”

Chang sneered. “You trying to imply something?”

“Have you ever considered that this, ah, habit of yours is a result repressed homosexuality?”

“Have you ever considered yourself a gaywad for caring so much?”

Chapter Text

“I’m starting to think that you’re not actually a regular here in Chinatown.”

Chang sniggered, accidentally slopping his shot over his hand as he edged his stool closer to lean into Duncan’s side. Unthinkingly, Duncan put his hand on Chang’s far shoulder to steady him, already feel the buzz himself. “We…we aren’t even in Chinatown, racist asshole, frickin played you! Now enjoy your ‘authentic Asian experience at this ENTIRELY RACIST—” Shot at the bartender quickly refilling their shots, who only grimaced in kind. “—themed bar night.”

Chapter Text

“Ben…please…”

Unmoved by the whimpers behind him, Chang set the emptied bottle on the counter, nudging the current crowd around for space. One bottle left, forty ounces of cheap vodka, and Duncan struggled against the tape securing him to the kitchen chair, keening.

“Doing this for you, dude,” Chang said solemnly, screwing off the lid and tipping it into the sink. Whining turned into a yelp as chair and man toppled to the floor. “If you want me to stop being pissed at you for being too wasted to pick me up from jail, well, you have to make a sacrifice.”

Chapter Text

Britta threw her hands up in vehement indignation, hissing, “Technically, it was Jeff thinking it’d be cool to invite Duncan and host the party somewhere with a minibar that ruined Christmas.”

“I think it’s kind of beautiful, in a weird ‘let’s pretend that any tension that happened four seasons ago counts as sexual chemistry’ way,” Abed said, patting Troy’s shoulder as he gaped at Jeff and Frankie trying to extricate Chang and Duncan from each other’s passed out iron grips. “But your overbearing support of Chang and his new lifestyle was definitely a deciding factor here.”