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The closest Floyd could get to sleep was laying back in the sand and staring wide-eyed up at the starry sky. He got in a staring contest with the moon, gazing unblinkingly at it as everything turned to silver. Black crept in around the edges of Floyd's vision; not sleep, only his vision narrowing.
The moon gazed back at Floyd until the sun rose and tagged it out.
When Floyd finally blinked, it hurt. His eyes immediately watered, his eyelids ached, his eyeballs felt like jelly in their sockets. Upon opening his eyes again, Floyd couldn't see anything at all. So he just closed his eyes again and waited for his vision to come back.
Branch was a comforting weight on Floyd's legs. His presence meant safety. By the time Floyd got his vision mostly back, Branch was waking up. He lifted his head and the sun caught his ears just right so that Floyd was able to see through them like colored glass. “Morning,” Branch mumbled. “Do you think that Bruce has coffee on this island?”
Floyd tried to chuckle but it came out as a wheeze. He licked his lips. “The odds seem good,” he managed. “Something to drink sounds good.”
Branch pushed himself to his feet, then hauled Floyd to his.
Floyd's bones felt like twigs ready to snap and his muscles tightened. He groaned in pain, unable to hide it in time, face contorting into a grimace. Laying on the sand hadn't been so bad but now he was moving and that sucked.
Branch sighed. His expression was sad but unsurprised when he looked at Floyd. “Feeling pretty bad, huh?” Branch asked.
Floyd whined. Now that he was upright, his head pounded and talking felt impossible. He wanted to sit down again.
The next thing Floyd knew, he was in Branch's arms and being carried back to Bruce's sand castle home. It felt strangely familiar, as though Branch had carried him before. But that was impossible; he'd been a baby last time they saw each other. Floyd must have been mistaking Branch for one of his other brothers.
“There you are - hey what's wrong with Floyd?” John Dory's voice boomed.
“The ring pops are wearing off,” Branch replied. “We slept on the beach last night. Does Bruce have a bath here?”
John Dory snorted. “Have you seen this place? It's half water. Come along, brother.” They changed direction and it was a minute before their oldest brother asked, “Do you want me to carry him?”
“Nah,” Branch said. “I've got him.”
Floyd cracked open an eyelid to see John Dory's reaction to this.
John Dory had a complicated expression on his face, full of pride and sorrow and longing. All his kids were grown up. He tugged on his vest and looked away from the both of them.
Floyd closed his eyes again. He tucked his face against Branch's neck.
They walked in silence. There were no heartfelt, drunken confessions from John Dory and no whispered worries about their sensitive, weak brother shared with Branch.
When he broke his silence, John Dory only said, “It's kind of a spa. Thankfully Bruce lives here so there's a troll-sized version.” This was followed by a chuckle. A door opened, the lighting changed. The air became more humid. “You want me to get Bruce?”
Branch shook his head. “I think I can figure it out.”
The silence stretched and then John Dory said, “Right. Well, holler if you need me.”
“Sure,” Branch said, voice completely and utterly lacking in conviction. He would not be calling John Dory for anything, Floyd suspected.
“Hey, Branch, I said I'm sorry,” John Dory began.
Branch held Floyd just a tiny bit tighter. His heart jackhammered in his chest so hard that Floyd could feel it. “Yeah, and then you tried to leave again. If you want to be on your own so badly, just go. No one is keeping here.” Branch's voice was low and sharp.
Floyd felt like he was missing something…and he felt just like when he was tiny and his big brothers were arguing. He let out a soft whine, hoping to distract them from their fight.
Branch gave a sharp exhale. “Do whatever you want, John Dory, I'm going to take care of Floyd.” He began walking again. Eventually he put Floyd down, gently laying him on something soft. “How does a bath sound?”
A bath sounded heavenly. Floyd couldn't remember the last time he had a bath. Or a shower. Or anything that even remotely resembled either of those things. He made a positive noise in his throat, hoping Branch got the message.
“Alright. Just hang tight and I'll get it ready for you.” Branch gently patted Floyd's arm and then got up.
Floyd heard Branch move around and the sound of bottles clinking together. When he opened his eyes, Branch was reading the labels and sniffing the bottles.
“Aha, I knew Bruce had to have something with all those kids.” Branch selected one and took it to a hot tub a few feet away. He poured the contents into the water and made a satisfied noise as the water turned a faintly peach color. Branch added a couple more bottles of different colors and scents until the water was swirled with pink and orange and purple. It smelled divine, fruity and sweet but not overpowering with hints of floral undertones. “Let’s get these shorts off.”
Branch unbuckled Floyd’s belt, then hooked his fingers in the belt loops of Floyd’s shorts and began tugging them down.
Even though Branch wasn’t being rough, the jostling hurt. Floyd hissed and grimaced, unable to help but express his discomfort.
“Sorry,” Branch murmured. “But they have to come off.” And they did come off a moment later. Branch made a face and tossed them aside. He stood and took off the suit he’d been wearing since the show. “Ready to go into the water?”
Floyd managed a tiny nod of his head.
To his surprise, Branch lifted Floyd's head and put something beneath it. It almost felt like a pool floatie. “So you don't drown,” Branch explained. Then he picked Floyd up and walked into the water with him.
The hot water made Floyd's breath catch but it only took a couple minutes to adjust. As he floated on his back, Floyd began to be aware of…something. Something was happening to his body, a strange and pleasant feeling enveloping him. “I can't feel anything,” Floyd said, and was surprised to find his words slurred.
“Bruce has a numbing potion,” Branch said. “It won't give you your energy back like the ring pops but it should stop you from hurting for a while.”
“Too many ring pops, Branch,” Floyd said. “I've been sober for too long.”
“I'm sorry, Floyd,” Branch said. He scooped water into his hands and gently poured it on the roots of Floyd's hair to wet it. “I don't know what a normal dose is.”
This prompted Floyd to open his eyes. He shot Branch a puzzled look.
Branch winced. He looked away, scooping more water onto the dry bits of Floyd's fur and hair.
Floyd was beginning to suspect that Branch had a substance abuse problem. He wondered if he shouldn't have shared that ring pop with him. But the guys said that Branch took a hit while he was rescuing Floyd! Yeah, stupid, because he hadn't slept in a week.
Floyd thought of the seriousness with which Branch had said he'd find a way for Floyd to perform, how he'd emphasized one show only. “What's your normal dose, Branch?” Floyd asked.
Branch's ears drooped lower than Floyd’s ever seen a troll’s ears droop. “Eighteen,” he whispered. “A day.”
“Branch, that's six days without sleep,” Floyd said, brow furrowing. The water hadn’t worked its magic on his face and it hurt to frown.
“Consecutively,” Branch said under his breath.
It took Floyd a moment to understand what Branch meant by that. “You mean, you ate eighteen ring pops a day…every day?” Floyd asked to clarify because surely he must have been wrong.
Branch nodded. He ran his fingers through Floyd’s hair, massaging in shampoo. His fingers on Floyd’s scalp felt nice. “It was bad for a long time.”
“Are you better now?” It was all Floyd could think to ask. Branch seemed fairly well-adjusted. His coloring was just desaturated and his ears seemed permanently lowered. Floyd shifted his arm so that it brushed Branch’s chest and took in the difference in their fur colors. Floyd’s fur was paler, a soft blue, while Branch’s was a darker gray-blue. And Branch’s hair…well it had never been that dark before.
“Believe it or not, this is better than it was.”
Floyd didn’t know what to say and so he said nothing at all. Guilt swallowed him whole and all Floyd could think about was how badly he’d messed up.
Branch seemed content to let the subject drop and focused on his work. After finishing with Floyd’s hair, he scrubbed Floyd’s fur clean. Even though Floyd couldn’t feel much, Branch was being gentle with him. He worked with care to lather and rinse Floyd’s fur, leaving it looking even paler than Floyd thought he was. The layer of grime that came off was equally gross and embarrassing but Branch didn’t seem bothered by it. “Do you care if the earring comes out?”
The cotton ball earring had been in Floyd’s ear for so long that it was now gray instead of white. He’d hung onto it as his only momento from his BroZone days. Now that he was reunited with his brothers, Floyd could stand to lose it. “Go for it,” Floyd said and tilted his head to give Branch better access.
Branch took the earring out and tossed it onto the ground away from the hot tub. He massaged Floyd’s earlobe between two fingers. “I have some jewelry at my bunker back in Pop Village,” Branch said. “If you don’t mind waiting on a replacement.”
“That’s fine with me,” Floyd said. A tingle of excitement went through him at the thought of wearing Branch’s jewelry. He loved his brother so much. He lifted a hand and cupped Branch’s cheek. “I love you,” Floyd said because he hadn’t said it enough in Branch’s lifetime.
“I love you too.” Branch nuzzled Floyd’s palm. “Now that you’re clean, do you think you can eat something?”
Floyd’s stomach had been suspiciously quiet for a long, long time. Velvet and Veneer didn’t feed him while he was in the perfume bottle and Floyd had lived off his hopes and dreams. As a result, the only ambition Floyd currently had was to spend time with his brothers; especially Branch. The ring pops and the drink Branch gave him were the only things Floyd had consumed in a very long time.
His silence must have stretched for too long because Branch’s face scrunched up with worry. “We can see if there’s broth on the menu or something light,” he suggested.
“Alright,” Floyd agreed, mostly to make Branch stop worrying. He caressed Branch's cheek then ran his palm along the length of Branch's ear.
Branch closed his eyes, basking in the touch. This lasted a few moments until he abruptly shook his head, eyes snapping open. “Okay let's get out of this bath. It's pretty gross in here now.”
Floyd snorted. “I'm enjoying it,” he said lightly.
“I'll run you another bath after you eat something,” Branch promised. Again he lifted Floyd and carried him. He set Floyd onto a cushioned bench this time and grabbed a towel. Floyd's hair was the first thing he dried, squeezing the water out of it and soaking it into the towel. This took quite a while because Floyd had quite a lot of hair.
Floyd could have just shaken his hair dry but Branch looked like he was - well not having fun, exactly - but very determined to do it his way. That was fine with Floyd. The ring pops hadn't fully worn off yet and the bath had left his aching body strangely numb and raw at the same time. Besides, it'd been so long since Floyd had a kind touch and even longer since he'd been with Branch that he enjoyed the pampering. “You're so good, Branch.”
Branch tilted Floyd's chin up and kissed him. His mouth was soft and warm against Floyd's. The kiss ended too soon, though, and Branch went back to drying Floyd's hair. This time he wore a pleased smile.
Branch dried Floyd's face and worked his way down from there, making sure that not a drop of water was left dampening Floyd's fur.
Floyd helped where he could; holding out his arms, sitting forward, lifting his feet. He even briefly stood up - legs weak as cooked noodles - to let Branch dry off his butt and thighs. The problem was, as Branch was drying Floyd off, the pain was beginning to return. Not immediately, not in the same great crushing way as before, but enough that Floyd was aware he had limited time to be up and about. Floyd tried very hard to sit patiently while Branch dried himself off but he was having trouble. “Branch, I think we should get food soon,” he said, trying to be subtle and casual and failing spectacularly at both.
It was decided that they'd go to eat without clothes. Branch carried Floyd again, going down to the restaurant part of the sand castle. They set up in a corner booth along the wall. “I'll be right back,” Branch said before walking towards the bar to get Brandi’s attention.
Floyd slumped forward, his head in his arms, and watched the patrons of the restaurant. He's never seen their species before but they didn't seem like the type to want to eat a little troll.
We've been torturing little trolls, Veneer's cracking voice echoed in Floyd's head.
Floyd squeezed his eyes shut but when he did all he saw was the purple of the diamond perfume bottle. His breath caught and his eyes flew open again. No purple. No hard, diamond walls keeping him prisoner. Still, his chest rose and fell with harsh breaths.
“Brandi said they don't have soup but she can make you a fruit smoothie,” Branch said. “Hey, Floyd, are you alright?” His hand rested on Floyd's back.
Floyd gave a neutral hum. He didn't want Branch to worry more than he already was. “Yeah, I'm fine, Branch.”
Branch slid into the booth next to him and put his arm around Floyd's waist. “It's been almost two days so after we eat, I'll take you to bed.”
“Promise?” Floyd asked, lowering his voice and flashing Branch a look he hoped was seductive.
The fact that Branch did not rise to the bait probably meant Floyd missed the mark. “Soon, okay? Just hang in there for a little while longer.” He turned his head, looking out for Brandi on the way with their food, ears perked up with anxiety.
It was Bruce who brought the smoothies, delivering them on a silver platter. He sat down opposite them and opened his mouth to speak -
“Daddy! Daddy!” A high, loud voice said.
“What is it, my little gumdrop?” Bruce asked.
Branch put a smoothie in front of Floyd.
Floyd's head felt like it was made of lead when he tried to lift it off the table. Pain pulsed behind his eyes. For a few seconds he just stared at the smoothie, wondering how in the world he was going to stomach eating real food. But Branch was looking at him like he might die if Floyd didn't eat and so Floyd put his lips around the straw and sucked.
Cold sweetness filled Floyd's mouth. It wasn't just fruit; there were spices too, more noticeable on the aftertaste. Because Branch was still watching him, Floyd swallowed. He felt too full.
“Did you develop a feeding kink while we were gone, Branch?” Bruce asked. His kid was nowhere to be seen. He had his smoothie resting on his belly, straw in his mouth, indigo eyes watching both of them.
Branch's ears immediately turned red, his shoulders raising in defense. “W-what? No.”
Floyd wondered about that.
“Then quit staring Floyd down and let him eat in peace, brother,” Bruce said mildly. He pushed the third smoothie towards Branch.
Floyd smiled briefly.
Branch growled softly to be contrary but he snatched his smoothie and drank half of it in one long gulp. “Happy?” he spat.
“Absolutely,” Bruce replied with a smile, winking at Floyd, and went back to his own smoothie.
“How many kids do you have?” Floyd asked to distract them both from the fact that he didn't intend to eat anymore.
“Thirteen,” Bruce said and his smile widened. Fatherhood was a good look on him. “One for each year I've been with Brandi.”
Branch and Floyd exchanged looks.
“Uh, so, does that mean you're expecting another one next year?” Branch asked.
Bruce shrugged. “If it happens that way I'll always be happy to have more kids. Thirteen is kind of the perfect number, though, you know? It's good luck.” He turned his attention to Floyd. “What about you, Floyd? Do you have any kids?”
Floyd's stomach twisted and for a second he thought he'd throw up all over the table. “No.”
“Branch? Poppy seems like she'd like a bunch of kids. Got any little seedlings back home?” Bruce asked, focusing on Branch now.
Branch looked briefly horrified. “Um, no, no kids. Poppy and I are, uh, taking it slow.” He slowly rotated the smoothie glass with the tips of his fingers, staring at it like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “We've only been a couple for almost a month.”
This time Floyd and Bruce were the ones who exchanged looks.
Floyd wasn’t sure how he’d feel if Branch already had kids. His little brother was a man now but…parenthood was something else.
“Oh, so Tiny Diamond isn’t your kid,” Bruce said thoughtfully.
Branch made a face. “Poppy and I aren’t glitter trolls,” he said, sounding confused.
Bruce shrugged. “My kids don’t look like me.” All of his children seemed to be like their mother.
Floyd put his head back in his arms, pushing the mostly full smoothie glass away. He’d slept a little before Branch got him the ring pops and not at all before that and Floyd was currently at that point where being awake was making him nauseous. Or maybe that was the smoothie.
Branch's palm rested on the small of Floyd's back. “Are you done eating, Floyd?” he asked, making no mention of how little Floyd actually ate.
Floyd nodded. His eyelids were getting heavy. Maybe the ring pops were finally worn off and he could sleep just a little. Though what his dreams would bring him, Floyd was afraid to find out.