Work Text:
Marlin removes the lid and takes a deep breath of the steam, first through their nose, then through their mouth. Their nose twitches a bit at the sting, and the feel of the cooked food rolls through them, warm and comforting and fighting for its life. They put the lid back on the crockpot and open their bread container. The bread bowls they made yesterday are ready, and they select the biggest one, cut off the top and removes the center, flatten the center between their fingers and fiddles with it until it's spoon-like, put the rest of the bread away. One, two scoops of delicious stew, peppers and onions and peppers and potatoes and peppers....
They are eating good today.
Marlin puts their bread bowl on a plate with the bread spoon and carries it into the living room, clicks on the TV. A remake of an old Human movie, Grease, featuring many buttery crustaceans, is coming on and they're gonna watch it for the billionth time.
Now this is how you spend a day off. None of that 'shopping' Callie invited them on, just them, the couch, a movie they don't have to pay attention to and food hot enough to singe their tentacles as they let their mind drift.
They eat their spoon halfway through the bowl and have to get a real spoon, and by the second bowl, they've let the movie fade into pleasant background noise. The soothing burn in their mouth and throat reminds them of home, and it's a pleasure just to lie back and watch the lights of the lava lamps bubble, and rise, and fall. Marlin has an even dozen on each wall, providing a soothing dim light, and they all move differently.
Bubble, rise, and fall, as the one next to it's still rising and the one next to that has two bubbles and oh there goes another one. Marlin lays back on the couch and watches, absently raising another spoonful of stew to their mouth and biting down hard on a jalapeno, lets the burn chew through them as they chew through it, and the next spoonful is even hotter and the tears that flow down their face are a way of knowing things are just as they should be.
Someone knocks on their door.
Marlin sighs and relaxes deeper into the couch. Should they get more stew after this? Mmmm, maybe not; two bowls is quite a bit, and they've taken enough bites from the bowl at this point that they'd need to carve out another loaf of bread. Dessert? Lucky experimented with cupcakes last week, and they have some raspberry-lemon swirl cupcakes with vanilla frosting. Before taking one into the living room, they should turn it upside-down over the box and wait for all the excess sprinkles to fall off, bugs are a normal problem when living halfway underground but no need to encourage them.
Someone knocks again, harder.
Marlin stretches and turns on their side, eyes back on the TV. Looks like the Crabs and the Lobsters are having the dance-off for dating rights. They always liked this part. Oh, and here comes the shrimp kickline...
Knock. Knock. Knock-knock-knock -knock-knock-knock-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!
Marlin scrapes the last stew out of the bread bowl, sighs, and starts eating the bread itself. Soaked in the gravy, it still manages to soothe their throat. Delicious. Amazing.
What a perfect day.
“Marlin, it's us.”
Another delicious, delicious bite. Mmmmmm. Maybe—yeah. Marlin grabs the remote and rewinds the TV, back to the start of that song and dance-off. Always has been their favorite part.
“It's Marie. And—oh, come on, open the damn door!”
A bit of gravy drips on their cheek, and Marlin chases it with a finger, licks it off. Too good to waste.
“We're not going to go away, captain. Come on, seriously?”
Warm and all full of good food, their eyes itch for a nap. Well, why not? The crockpot's set to warm, nothing is going to burn or go wrong if they leave it, and it's nice and cozy here, alone and doing nothing on their day off.
“If you don't open up, I'm going to open it for you, Marlin.”
Nope. Marlin's sleeping now. Sleeping squids can't help with anything. Sleeeping squids should not be disturbed. Marlin pulls a zapfish plushie off the top of the couch to use as a pillow, yawns, and closes their eyes. Gets comfy. Yes. Nice nap time.
Their door opens with a quiet click and they take deep, slow breaths. Footsteps come closer. “Oh, for... stop faking it!”
Marlin is totally asleep right now. Snore.
Someone closes their door, more steps closer. “Think that spicy food finally killed them?”
“No, I think they're just stubborn.” A finger shoves into their shoulder. Marlin twitches but doesn't open their eyes. “Up, lazy bones! Come on!”
“Something smells like burning.” A cough. “Seriously, this is burning my eyes, what did you cook? ”
“Do you really expect anything Marlin made not to eat the plate?” A finger pokes Marlin's side this time; they bite back the urge to squeal. “Maybe they're not faking it.”
“Aw, and I picked their lock for nothing?” More footsteps. “Think they'll mind if I grab myself a drink before we head out?”
“Probably not.”
A cupboard door slams. Marlin stays where they are. “Ugh, how do they live like this? Think it'd be okay if I rearranged things sensibly for them?”
Marlin's ear twitches.
“They'd probably thank us.”
The sound of moving dishes makes Marlin tense. Just stay calm. Stay calm, and don't move. Putting everything back will be a lot easier than what they have planned. Stay.
It's all a bluff anyway, it has to be. Marie bluffs hard .
“All right, guess we should leave,” says Marie. “They can try on their new Captain's Outfit later.”
“And after all the work we did, trying to find just the right clothes!”
Footsteps. The door opens, and closes. Silence, save for the movie, where the shrimp heroine is now singing about love again. Marlin keeps their eyes closed, doesn't move, and starts counting to 300 by 3's.
At 249 there's a sigh, and then their door opens again. “Guess they're really not faking it,” Callie mutters, and the door closes.
Marlin waits another count of sixty, just to be sure. Victory. They've saved their day off.
Time for cupcakes.
Marlin opens their eyes and sits up.
“Knew it,” says Marie.
Marlin jumps and throws the remote at her.
Marie ducks. “Come on, we told you last week, you need an official captain's uniform!”
“I do not!”
Marie opens the door, and Callie peers in, grinning. “Do so-o,” she sings. “Come on, we spent hours shopping for you, since you wouldn't come with us!” She holds up armfuls of shopping bags. “At least try them on?”
Marlin groans and rubs a hand down their face. “I'd rather wear rags.”
The shopping bags are tossed on their lap, and once again, Marlin learns they can never win against those two.