Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To say Tango knew what he was doing would be a massive overstatement.

It’s one of those funny things in life. He’d say he could work his way around a death game or two by now; he’s not bad at them by any means. Still, he isn’t the best, isn’t the worst, and most certainly, never knows what the hell he’s doing.

“Top? Whatcha doin’?” Skizz looks at him with bright, nearly glowing red eyes. His shadow has too many limbs, freewheeling against the stone walls, and Tango pointedly looks away. He loves his friends, trusts them with everything, but he can’t deny the shiver that runs down his spine at being so close to another Red. His fingers itch for a blade, and he knows that Skizz must be fighting it ten times worse, especially given the way he was one of the first to go to Red.

“Headin’ out,” Tango answers vaguely. Skizz tilts his head. “Y’know. Around.”

“Around,” Skizz echoes curiously. If they were literally anywhere else but a death world, Tango knows that Skizz’s wings would be fluffed right now, maybe a few extra sets peeking out from wherever they are when they’re not tangible, flicking out and fidgeting. Skizz is pretty constantly in motion even when he doesn’t intend to be because of his wings, which have a mind of their own. Of course, they aren’t anywhere else, and it’s only him and Skizz awake right now. Inside a base on a death world where Skizz is confined to a mortal form, not even one pair of fluffy white wings to grace his back. 

“Yeah.” Tango sounds unconvincing, but his true answer isn’t any better.

“It’s our day off tomorrow,” Skizz says meaningfully. “Tomorrow. Not tonight. Anything’s free game tonight.”

Tango laughs nervously. “Whoa, Skizz, sounds like a threat.”

“It’s not,” Skizz says with a huff. “But you need to be careful. The Bad Boys aren’t really on good terms with us. Not in any significant way. I don’t want you getting shot down because you decided on a nighttime visit to your s⎯”

“Don’t say it.” His voice is harsh, the words ringing out against stone walls. He can feel Skizz scrutinising him, that same old feeling of too many eyes on him. The sensation has slowly lost any strangeness, just part of who Skizz is, becoming nostalgic instead. Tango’s hair flares, sparking higher. Skizz stops speaking for a second, long enough for him to get a word in edgewise. “That’s not⎯ I’m not visiting Jimmy.”

“You’re not?”

“Hasn’t looked at me twice all game, Skizz, so no. Not really in the mood to see my rancher right now.” Tango’s heart twists uncomfortably in his chest. There’s only one other person within this entire death game who understands what he’s feeling. They’ve never been the closest, but there’s… something. Tango desperately hopes so, anyway, that he isn’t imagining it when they share glances.

“Then who⎯” Skizz starts, then stops, sounding baffled. “Oh no, not him. Tango. You’ll get yourself killed.”

“I don’t think so,” Tango says quietly, tail curling around his own wrist in an attempt to self-soothe. He’d go anywhere else if he thought there was a better choice, but he knows there isn’t. He wants to feel loved for a night, properly loved, and not in the way the rest of TIES love him. Jimmy is out. His rancher has barely said two words to him thus far. He doesn’t know what happened between now and Empires, when they were finally settling into a groove.

“Dude.” Skizz sounds incredulous. “Have you forgotten about his pet Red? Even if, by some miracle, he doesn’t attack you on sight⎯ ‘cause let’s be real, these rules are flimsy at best and he’s never feared them before⎯ then you know Martyn won’t let it go. You’re on your last hours, man. Your entire presence is a threat.”

“I’m not worried about it,” Tango says with more force, looking up and meeting Skizz’s gaze head-on. Skizz wears a deep frown, arms crossed over his chest. As a Red, he doesn’t need sleep. It’s why he’s the one keeping watch, and Tango usually trades off on the next day. They’ll keep switching until everyone is either down to Red or they’re dead. “Look⎯ Trust me, okay? Just trust me. I can handle myself.”

“I don’t want you hurt, man.”

“I know.” Tango wilts, a little. “But, um, well. If I keep going like this, dude, I won’t make it.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am,” Tango says fiercely, then gives a short, breathless laugh. He runs a hand through his hair, bypassing the smouldering flames that flicker from the tippiest parts. It’s spiked up in swooping peaks, nothing quite as dramatic as his usual mohawk, but limited supplies will be what they are. “Skizz, I don’t know how, but I am. Never been more sure of much.”

“If he hurts you⎯”

“C’mon.” Tango’s chuckle is a little more real this time. “If he’s anything, it’s smart. He isn’t going to make an enemy of a whole team just because he gets startled, or because he doesn’t trust Reds. You’ve seen his silver tongue smoothly talkificating before, he’s just⎯ He’s, um, he’s kind of amazing?”

“I guess, yeah.” Skizz looks slightly more reassured. “Scott isn’t stupid.”

“No,” Tango agrees, feeling a little like the wind’s been knocked out of him. Saying his name makes it all so much more real. “Scott isn’t stupid.”

Skizz lets him leave the TIES base without further comments, although Tango feels his watchful gaze against the back of his neck the whole way out. He bears it, because he knows that it’s just Skizz’s way of caring, angel attributes pushed to their furthest limits within these games. Tango’s blood boils if he thinks about that particular injustice for too long, though, so his attention quickly redirects to his surroundings. His shoes, thick, heavy combat boots, slip across the sand. He can’t run like this. Sometimes he wonders if that’s why they built near here, and then he remembers who he’s thinking about. Scott prefers his aesthetics over strategy, which is not to say that he doesn’t think of it at all, only that it isn’t first priority.

The waves lap against the shore, softly crashing with the full moon highlighting Tango’s path. His footsteps are washed away with ease, giving no sign that he’d been there at all. Outside in the cool night air, his hair simmers down until there’s no flame left, leaving him with a little less light than he started. He pauses on the shore. The island greets him on the horizon, beautiful and imposing as always with walls of bamboo and sugarcane that are impressively difficult to see through.

He’d forgotten about this bit. Tango isn’t… great at swimming. He can do it, undoubtedly, it’s the only reason TIES was comfortable building near the ocean, but it’s not his favourite. This is what he means by never knowing what he’s doing. Tango sighs and sits down on the sand heavily, pulling his legs to his chest and beginning to undo the laces of his shoes. He steps out of them and his bare feet sink into the sand, making Tango hum. The sensation is odd, unusual, but kind of nice nonetheless. It gets progressively damper as he walks forward, deciding to take his chances with everything else he has on.

The shoes are definitely too heavy, but his usual dark red pants and undershirt along with his dark grey leather vest should be fine. He hopes that ocean water isn’t bad for leather. He should probably look into that once they’re back with the Hermits, and not stuck in a death world.

“Oh, I hate this,” Tango mumbles once he’s about knee-deep. The water is warm, but it progressively gets colder the further he walks in, and the waves are already starting to crash against his skin harshly. He knows he needs to get it over with and dive beyond the breaks already, but it’s so annoying. Why couldn’t Scott have kept that nifty land-bridge that led out to his perfect island? Tango knows it ruined the view, but it was so much more convenient than this swimming.

He takes a deep breath, glaring down at the water. The things he does to feel like he fits in his skin a bit better… Tango dives beneath the waves, pushing past the currents and foam-lipped eddies. He knows better than to open his eyes underwater, so he just keeps swimming, breaking the surface every now and then with a gasp. He forces his eyes open at one point to check that he’s on the right track, looking above the crests for a moment at Scott and Martyn’s pretty islands. He’s nearly there, so he braces himself before pushing his head back underwater and continuing to swim.

Tango is panting by the time he makes it to the islands. His steps drag against the soft silt and sand gently sloping up to the main part of the island, and he barely has the wherewithal to walk over in the direction of the singular break in the wall of bamboo and sugarcane. He knows Scott prefers that people knock on the door, even if it’s silly, and Tango will take whatever brownie points he can possibly get. His tail sparks to life behind him with a wet sputter, flicking rapidly. The good thing about being a blazeborne hybrid is that his skin heats at quite a different rate than other mortals, which means his clothes are drying very nicely the second he’s out of the water.

He really hates being wet.

Tango lifts a hand and gently knocks against the door, nerves like a physical ache in his throat.

“Huh?”

“What?”

“No, I swear I heard… Someone’s at the door. Go!”

“Why me!?”

“You’re the Red! Also, what happened to being gallant?!”

“I’d like t’see you being gallant for me for once, actually⎯”

“Martyn!”

He barely manages to stifle his laughter, bringing one claw-tipped hand up to cover his mouth. He doesn’t think that the proclaimed Mean Gills know that he can hear them. It’s funny to listen to how nervous they get immediately. He grins dopily at the door, feeling a little endeared. Tango takes a step back, cupping both of his hands around his mouth and looking up.

“I think you oughta invest in some proper wallification!” He calls, his voice carrying and hopefully reaching the two men beyond the bamboo and sugarcane barrier. He can hear some minor shuffling noises, and the low cadence of voices, but can no longer make out specific words. Looks like Martyn and Scott learned their lesson on that one, at least. Part of Tango wants to pout. He kind of liked eavesdropping. They’re entertaining when they really get going.

The door creaks slowly as it opens, swinging inward to reveal a suspicious Martyn. Tango’s breath catches in his throat. He’d forgotten what the man looked like now that he was on Red. Those vicious bruises he sported for days while Yellow had finally come to fruition in the form of coral pushing outwardly from his skin, starkly crimson around the bases. His skin has taken on an ashy tinge, his eyes red to match the headband tied around his forehead. The coral growing from him doesn’t seem to hinder his movement in any way, although it looks like it hurts, just a bit.

Tango’s never been happier to be one of few who the lore of these games doesn’t affect. He knows that most of the other players in their death games experience a few changes per game, some permanent, some not. It was that first game that gave Jimmy his canary wings, bestowing them upon him the minute he respawned at home safely after his third death. A permanent modification he never asked for. Tango has always wondered if they would disappear if Jimmy ever broke his curse.

(He’s not as in-tune as some are with the makers of these games, and yet, still, Tango doubts it. They are not so merciful as that.)

“Does that hurt?” Tango blurts out without thinking. Martyn stiffens, red eyes widening slightly. Nervously, Tango’s tail whips behind him. He can feel it moving restlessly, just as obvious as if he’d been doing some other kind of nervous fidgeting. He can’t help it. Martyn is Red, of course, but he’s also…pretty. Tango doesn’t do well around people he finds attractive.

“What?”

“Uh, I just mean, y’know, all that coralification…can’t be good for the health.” Tango tries for a smile. It comes out weak. Martyn blinks before taking a breath, drawing himself up to his full height and piercing Tango with an intimidating look.

“What are you doing here?” He asks coldly. Tango winces.

“Um, no offence, but I really think that’s something better explained to both of you. The Mean Gills. ‘Cause, like, not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and I think a Yellow maybe is more trustworthy? Also, it’s Scott.” Tango finishes off like that explains everything, and to him, it does. 

It’s Scott. He’s seriously never seen a more loyal person. These games are viewed with a small layer of apathy to everyone; at the end of the day, it’s the game, and the things that happen within aren’t meant to affect their lives outside of them. But not Scott. No, not Scott. He throws himself fully into every alliance he has, even when others shatter around him, and most startlingly of all⎯ His allies always stick by his side. Tango is pretty sure Scott has never been betrayed. All that to say that there must be something about the guy that’s honest, and thus, trustworthy.

“Ha.” Martyn says flatly. “Nice try. State your purpose or get off the island.” His hand drops to the pommel of this sword. Oh, goody. This is going just fantastic. Tango is starting to regret ever having this idea, but the mere thought of going back to TIES has his hair flaring with stress. Day in, day out, stone walls, his best buddies, a soulmate who won’t look at him, and a creeping feeling that he’s not deserving of anything.

…Yeah. This might be worth the death.

“Martyn,” Scott calls, walking up behind Martyn. The latter splutters, hand dropping from his sword as he turns slightly to intercept Scott. He keeps his feet pointed towards Tango, though, and he’s pretty sure that Martyn could have his sword drawn against his throat before Tango could so much as say ‘marco’. “Calm down. Tango isn’t going to hurt us.”

“You literally have no way to know that,” Martyn deadpans. Scott ignores him, looking over Martyn’s shoulder to meet Tango’s gaze in a flash of brilliant yellow. His eyes remind Tango of stars. The contrast of yellow against the blue-purplish scales scattered out from the corners of his eyes is beautiful.

“Hi, Tango,” Scott says easily, as if they’ve only bumped into each other while running errands. “What brings you here?”

Tango feels oddly exposed, with them on one side of the door and him on the other. Still, he thinks this is better than if they’d invited him in. He can’t imagine doing a walk of shame back to this stupid door once they say no. At least this way, all Tango has to do is jump back in the ocean and quickly swim to TIES and hopefully forget this night ever happened. He takes a deep breath.

“I need you to fuck me.”

Right. That’s definitely one way to put it.

Not like he had a whole speech planned or anything, no, of course not.

Tango’s hair flares with a fwoom sound, billowing hot air out around him. His face feels like it’s burning, and he knows he has to be blushing, that he’s turned red to match his pants. His tail curls around his own wrist once more. He kind of wants to sink into the ground and never resurface, pointedly glancing away from either Scott or Martyn. Oh, wow, look at that, what a beautiful night sky. Shame he never pays attention to it, really. Maybe he should just forget all about this and go off in the woods and stargaze and get blown up by a creeper. That sounds much preferable.

“Sorry, what?” That’s Martyn’s incredulous voice. Tango keeps his eyes on the sky, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Maybe if he pretends hard enough, they’ll leave him be and simply shut the door in his face so he doesn’t have to explain himself.

“Tango, darling⎯”

The noise he makes at that is a cross between a squeak and a choke.

Tango’s gaze has never snapped to someone faster in his life. Scott raises one eyebrow, something amused to the faint curl of his lips. Martyn is a lot more obvious in how much he finds it funny, grinning broadly with a sparkle in his eyes. He looks animated like this, less terrifying corpse risen from a watery grave specifically to threaten Tango.

“Maybe you oughta come in,” Martyn says, taking a step back and leaving enough room for Tango to squeeze past onto the island. He frowns, glancing from the coralified pirate to Scott, who gives him a slight dip of his head. Well, if they’re both in agreement… Tango walks forward, edging carefully past the Mean Gills without touching either of them. It’s very difficult, but luckily neither of them seem to have qualms about being pressed against each other instead.

“I didn’t mean to, uh, say it like that,” Tango clarifies, hair spitting sparks. Martyn eyes it with unabashed curiosity, while Scott keeps his gaze on Tango, a look of understanding filling his face as he nods again. “I swear, I had this whole, like, speech planned to explain, and then⎯ Y’know, you guys are insanely pretty, okay, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to function when you are.”

“Do your flames change colour in other worlds, too?” Martyn interrupts, not at all on the same subject track. Tango blinks.

“Huh? Oh, oh! No. Well, sort of? In the games, it just goes from green, to yellow, to red, like now. But when I’m with the Hermits, it’s usually just yellow and maybe some oranges and whites thrown in, kind of like a real fire. But then, ohh, then there’s some cool stuff you can do with dye! The dyeification process can be annoying, but I can have any colour flames if I work it right. Naturally, though, only regular fire occurs, and then of course the blue flames.”

“Blue flames?” Martyn repeats, making an interested noise in the back of his throat. Tango nods, bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly.

“Yeah, so you know how flames have that colour chart for heat? Some of the hottest flames are blue, which is really neat, so when I get overwhelmed with emotion, my flares get blue instead of whatever other colour. That doesn’t happen a lot, though. The guys used to make a game of it back home to see who could get me to blue fastest, heh.” Tango grins, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Oh, and since I use redstone so much, a lot of the time my flames will glitter, ‘cause of the dust particles everywhere.”

“That’s so cool. Er, y’know, metaphorically,” Martyn says, gesturing uselessly at the air. Tango laughs. “You wanna go up the deck? We’ve got…beds. Better than the floor, at least.”

“Sure,” Tango agrees. He’s a little more relaxed now. It takes him a second as he looks at Martyn’s easygoing grin to realise that was probably the intention. Tango smiles back, feeling stupidly fond. The Mean Gills turn around, leading the way back to their outdoor pavilion, and Tango follows them up the steps with ease. He hadn’t thought about that, actually. There isn’t very much privacy up here. The two beds on the deck portion are separated by a plant, but there’s two more beds underneath the small roof, shielded from the elements and pushed together.

“So, you wanna explain?” Scott asks curiously once they’ve all sat down. Mean Gills on one bed and Tango on the other, perching on the edges. They’re nearly close enough for their knees to brush, and even that small touch makes Tango’s throat close with fear and want. He pulls his legs close to his chest, sitting criss-cross atop the bedcovers.

“Do I have to?” Tango asks with a small laugh. Martyn snorts.

“Mate, if you want us to do anything tonight, you’re gonna hafta talk about it first. You say the word, though, and we’ll forget all about it.”

Tango kind of envies how easily he speaks in the ‘we’ pronoun, like he’s utterly confident in his standing. He probably is. Scott doesn’t seem like the type of person to beat around the bush. Tango knows that Jimmy does it a lot, too, after he’s spent a bunch of time with Scott. He’ll start talking with ‘we’ and then laugh and apologise with that usual rakish smile of his, brown eyes shining. As if Tango could ever care enough to be mad at him for that.

“We’re flexible,” Scott promises. “This isn’t something we’d use against you, Tango. You don’t have to be worried.”

He realises belatedly that Scott mistook his lack of reply as nerves and shakes his head, tail flickering against his wrist. Another perk of being a blazeborne is that he’s relatively impervious to hot temperatures, though the downside is that colder temperatures affect him a lot easier than most mortals. The second life game had been hell because of the perpetual winter they were stuck in. This one, a breezy summer, is much nicer.

“No, no, just, uh, just lost in thought!” Tango explains with a cheerful grin, waving his hand in the air. Scott relaxes with a nod. Martyn is almost tucked against his side, leaning into him like it’s natural, his sword slung across his thighs and glinting ominously in the moonlight. Tango’s mind can’t help but spin at the possibilities, running wild with flashes of stealing the sword and running Martyn through, or burning Scott’s neck and taking the sword in his other hand, or reaching for his own small blades he has hidden away on his person and waiting until they’re vulnerable to kill them.

He shakes his head, beating back the Red instincts. 

“How ‘bout this, mate, let’s start by what you meant when you said ‘you’. Like, did you mean ‘you’ as in both of us, or one of us? I dunno how comfortable I am leaving you alone with Scott until we talk some more, but it’s probably doable.”

“Why’d you assume it was him?” Tango asks with a slight frown. Martyn blinks.

“Is it not?”

“This is why we need to talk about it,” Scott cuts in, exasperated. “We’ll never get anywhere if we’re all making assumptions. Tango, you said you had a speech? D’ya wanna go ahead and start with that?”

Tango flushes, flares flickering higher. 

“Yeah. Well, look, I don’t know⎯ I don’t know how to explain it, alright, it’s a bit tough! ‘Cause the guys, the guys are great, they’re my best buds, I love them to death, but it’s not. The right kind of love?” He makes a noise of frustration, curling his claws against the fabric of his pants. “No, no, that’s not what I mean. There’s no right kind of love. But⎯ Look. Jimmy. You know what I mean?” He looks towards Scott, seeking understanding that he isn’t crazy, that he hasn’t been imagining the distance he’s faced throughout this death game. Scott wears a pained expression. There’s a canary feather hanging from his ear that nearly matches his eye colour to the letter. Tango’s own is tucked beneath his shirt right now, strung on a bit of chain.

“Yeah. I know what you mean,” Scott says quietly. “I don’t know…what we did wrong, or if we did anything wrong. He won’t talk to me outright, so I can’t ask, either. I’m sure he’ll tell us when we get home. But⎯ Tango, are you…touch-starved?”

“That word makes it sound so serious,” Tango bemoans, dropping his face into his hands. “It’s not that serious! And I’m not, it’s not,” He makes a few various noises to try and express what he means. “TIES are touchy. Like, we hang out and high-five and fist-bump and it’s all great. So I’m not touch-starved, exactly. Can’t be, I don’t think. Not with some sort of severity, anyway.”

“That’s not how it works, mate,” Martyn says seriously. Tango lifts his head from his hands to frown at the other man. Maybe it’s closer to pouting, but he’ll never admit it! Martyn leans forward, propping his elbows on his thighs and linking his hands together. “You can have that and still be touch-starved. Brief affection isn’t the same as being held. I’m not saying a couple of hugs would fix it, but it would definitely help. Aren’t you lot the hugging type?”

“Skizz is,” Tango admits. “But I kind of⎯ get weird about it. I do this to myself with the Hermits all the time, ‘cause I don’t like asking for aff, ugh, affection. And sometimes it is too much, and I don’t wanna be touched at all, and then. Ugh, it just spirals into a whole mess. So Skizz doesn’t hug me unless I ask, but I can’t ask here! We all have bigger things to worry about than that!”

“That’s why you brought up Jimmy,” Scott says in realisation. “Because he doesn’t make you ask, he just hugs you all the time. Hangs off of you like a limp koala. But he’s…not available this time around.”

“Yeah,” Tango says with a huff of laughter. He also feels like, even if he somehow mustered the courage to face the soulmate who’s been ignoring him without a word of explanation for almost two weeks, all of Jimmy’s touching wouldn’t be enough. Not when Tango is still torn up in emotional turmoil about him. “So that’s where, uh, that’s where you both come in.”

Martyn makes a face. “Wait a minute, you asked us to have sex with you because you’re touch-starved? Won’t that just make the bloody problem worse?”

“How do you mean?” Tango asks in confusion.

“You’ve gotten no intimate contact for, what, the last fourteen days, and you want to dive right into the deep end with a threesome?” Scott replies in bafflement. “Tango, that sounds horrible. I’d actually hate to do that. It’d be a sensory overload nightmare. I mean, well, I guess everyone is different. Is this what you usually do? Like, with your Hermits, the ones you have that kind of relationship with? Or Jimmy, I suppose, when you visit?”

Tango isn’t sure how to answer that.

Because of course it isn’t what he does. He normally doesn’t let it get this bad, either, but there’s been a few times when he’s into a project too deeply and will forget basic human interaction, leading him to grow touch-starved relatively quickly. Not to mention, this time around, it isn’t just the fact that he hasn’t been held in a long while that’s doing him in. His own thoughts are working against him, making him feel useless even when he knows TIES don’t think the same. He wants to be loved, but his soulmate is ignoring him. He thinks that Scott would be good at that sort of thing. Good at making someone feel wanted, cherished. He imagines that Martyn must be, too, since they’re together.

But regardless, when the touch-starvation happens on Hermitcraft, after Tango realises why his skin feels too tight and every little touch from a Hermit burns, he…has a cuddle pile. Lots of thick, fluffy clothes and blankets and pillows and everybody comes to either his base or a neutral location and they all hang out and watch movies all night long and end up sleeping in a big group cuddle. It works both the fastest for remedying Tango’s touch-starvation, and it’s the most fun!

He can’t do that here, though. Not only does he not trust everyone in this world enough for that, it’s still a death game. There’s no time to call a pause and have a cuddle night with his bros. TIES would do it on their day off, Tango thinks, but he’s already dragging them down enough. He can’t add more onto their weighted shoulders, can’t be more of a burden. That’s why he chose Scott, and by extension, Martyn, instead. He trusts them not to kill him, especially Scott, and he figured they’d be okay with cuddling afterwards. Plus, afterglow makes everything softer and nicer.

It’d be the easiest way for Tango to pretend he was loved.

“That much touching, like, bare skin and everything…” Martyn mutters, seemingly to himself. “No, yeah, I think I’d actually kill someone if they made me go through that after fourteen days of no intimate contact.”

“Shh,” Scott says, elbowing his partner in the side. “We aren’t here to judge coping mechanisms, Martyn.”

“Oops,” Martyn says, glancing at Tango. “Sorry mate.”

“You’re right, though, a little.” Tango hedges, fiddling nervously with his fingers. “I mean, I mean, it’s true. I wouldn’t mind having sex, but it’s not⎯ not what I normally do. But what I normally do isn’t viable.” He makes a frustrated noise. “TIES have enough to worry about, I can’t ask them to drop everything and cuddle me.”

He groans.

“Even saying it now is humiliating.”

“So what you normally do is…have a cuddle? A proper one?” Martyn checks. Tango nods, feeling his face warm with embarrassment. This is why he went for the other route. Asking after sex is nowhere near as shameful as asking for platonic affection is. Besides, he truly can’t be more of a burden on his teammates than he already is. He knows they’re going to die one way or another; he won’t make that easier because he spent precious minutes begging for a cuddle pile instead of helping them fortify and gather supplies.

“That sounds lovely.” Scott says sincerely. “I don’t know why you didn’t ask TIES for that. I mean, I don’t know about Etho, he’s a bit unknown to me, but I’m pretty sure that Skizz and Impulse wouldn’t mind.”

Tango has to stifle a laugh. He knows that Etho gives off this mysterious, collected reputation, but oh boy, it’s the furthest thing from the truth. Etho is as much a freak and weirdo as the rest of TIES, he just hides it better by not interacting with very many people outside of the Hermits.

“Yeah, but,” Tango gestures vaguely in the air. “We have stuff to do. We can’t waste time cuddling.”

“So that’s why you’re here with us and not them,” Martyn continues. “But⎯ Oh, mate. Did you ask for sex on the off-chance we’d cuddle you after?”

Ah. That sounds really pathetic in Martyn’s calm accent.

Tango winces.

“...Maybe? I mean, sort of?”

“Honey,” Scott says, all soft and way too kind. Tango never thought that he cared one way or the other about pet names, but now he feels like he needs to hear Scott call him some all the time. It’s certainly nicer than just hearing his name from those pretty pink lips. “We don’t have to have sex to hold you. It doesn’t work like that. I mean, it’s not like you’re hard on the eyes⎯ You’re gorgeous. But we don’t have to do anything like that if all you need is cuddles.”

“Yeah, but.” Tango huffs in frustration. “Then you guys don’t get anything out of it.”

Scott looks taken aback. “Why would we need to get anything out of it? I know death games warp everyone’s perception, but life isn’t one big trade. You don’t have to work to be taken care of, Tango. I like to think we’re friends, y’know, and I prefer seeing you happy.”

“Yeah, I mean, can’t say we’re the closest, mate, but it’s not like I dislike you. And there doesn’t have to be any feelings attached.” Martyn agrees. Tango frowns. “If you want to have sex, or just get off, whatever, we can do that in the morning, maybe when you’ve got a clearer head. I think that you should bring this up with TIES, too. You’re not a burden, dude, you’re just mortal. It’s perfectly natural to need some hugs every now and then.”

“That’s not⎯ That’s not all of it, okay? The touch starvation isn’t everything. It’s, it’s more like… I’ve been. Uh, Void, this is tough to spit out.” Tango laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I’ve been lonely, okay? Not in a platonic sense, but. I just want to feel wanted, okay? And with Jimmy⎯ I thought maybe this would be a good alternative, since you’re the only one who could possibly get it.” He glances up at Scott, face warming.

“You want both, then?” Scott’s eyes have a particular gleam in them, like he’s finally figured it out. Tango sure hopes so, because honestly, he’s starting to talk himself in circles. He can’t imagine how they’re faring, trying to follow his convoluted thought patterns. “You want to be held, but you also want to be wanted… And you’re sure it won’t make it worse? We can always cuddle tonight and have sex tomorrow, Tango. I know it might not seem like it, but we do have time, even if it’s not a lot.”

“It won’t make it worse,” Tango says decisively. “But, uh,” his gaze flicks to Martyn. “We can save that for the morning, if it’d make you feel better.”

“I just don’t want the wrong thing happening, mate,” Martyn replies. “Like, you’ve obviously come to us for some relief, and I don’t want to fuck that up. I want it to be good for you, so you can get what you need. I know we’re not the first choice, and me even less so, but I don’t want to do the wrong thing and then you end up worse off.”

“Martyn’s got a thing about responsibility,” Scott says in a stage whisper, cupping his hands over his mouth. Tango laughs, while Martyn makes some sort of offended noise in the background.

“It’s important!” Martyn splutters, throwing his hands up. “Tango’s gotta have picked us for a reason!”

Scott shrugs. “Eh. I mean, his other options are Nosy Neighbours and the Clockers, so…”

Martyn makes a face. “S’pose we are the best of the lot, then, huh?”

“Certainly the only ones actively fucking.”

“You’re so crude,” Martyn complains. “No one would expect what a dirty mouth you’ve got, I swear.”

“I know, I like subverting expectations,” Scott says primly, smirking. Martyn rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t pick you guys because you’re the best of the bad options,” Tango interjects, smiling slightly. “I picked you guys because you’re the most trustworthy. I mean, you’re honest, y’know? I know you aren’t going to use this chance to stab me in the back or something.”

“It’s just rude, innit? Stab a man after sleeping with him?”

“You could always pull a Martyn and stab a man before sleeping with him.”

“Oh, right, make me seem like the aggressor there, thanks so much,” Martyn says sarcastically. Scott giggles. “You’re just the best boyfriend ever.”

“I know,” Scott says, smacking a noisy kiss to his cheek. “You’re lucky to have me.”

“Are⎯ Are you⎯” Tango stumbles over the question when their gazes turn to him, bright red and gleaming yellow. “Are you guys together then? Like for real? Outside of the games, I mean.”

He doesn’t really know how all that works. He’s been focused on getting comfortable with Jimmy outside of a death game, so the fact that his soulmate’s husband was still open to other relationships hardly crossed his mind. He knows that Jimmy and Scott are permanently intertwined, through thick and thin, which is more than fine with Tango. He doesn’t have any other romantic partners right now except Jimmy, but his platonic commitment with TIES is just as important. Scott, though, his dating history is a complete mystery to Tango, aside from their shared partner.

“Yeah,” Scott answers effortlessly. “I haven’t told Jimmy yet, but I wasn’t planning on it anyway. He can find out after the games for what he’s pulled in this one, I think. Never let it be said that I’m not petty.”

“Oh.” Tango blinks. He gets it, a little. He’s still mostly sad about Jimmy right now, not necessarily angry with him, but he understands where Scott is coming from with his irritation.

“I’ve got Ren back home, you know,” Martyn says, and yeah, Tango does remember hearing about that… Something about Xisuma having to whitelist another player for free visits to the Hermits. He knows that Ren and Doc are dating, too, though. This web of interconnected players must get big. “And he doesn’t care who I get with. We’ve talked about it before, said it’s no big deal whatever happens, as long as he’s told before he has to find out from someone else.”

“Wow. I’ve been, like, so out of the loop with this stuff,” Tango says, laughing. “Up until, y’know, Jimmy, I never⎯ Never really cared one way or another about romance, but oh my God.”

“Your world is the worst for it. Or not the worst, but it’s the biggest polycule I’ve ever seen. I swear nearly everyone is connected.” Scott says. “I wouldn’t touch what Grian has going on with a ten foot pole. At least on Empires we talk about it, most of the time.”

“Whoa, whoa, no Hermit slander here!” Tango exclaims, shaking his head. “I dunno what you mean, but I’m sure G’s being totally reasonable!”

“I’m more in the loop than you are, apparently, and I can confirm that Grian is not being totally reasonable,” Martyn says dryly. “I dunno what the man’s doing with his life, honestly. All I know is that Scar and Mumbo are definitely involved, and then he gets really weird about Joel and Tim sometimes, and then his whole secret soulmate bullshit… Yeah.”

“Wait, that wasn’t a bit?”

Scott and Martyn look at him incredulously.

“No⎯ Oh my gosh. Did you think the Divorce Quartet was a bit, too?” Scott asks through his laughter. “I mean, Pearl was playing up the jealous girlfriend act, but trust me, that was just as messy from the inside as it looked on the outside. Martyn and I even hooked up that game once or twice, and that’s when Pearl and Cleo got together. We weren’t official like they were, though, there was a lot of spite.”

“Good times,” Martyn comments. “We were very adventurous.”

“Half of it I can’t remember, honestly, because we got drunk.”

“Jeez!” Tango exclaims. “Y’all are wild!”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” Martyn says, laughing. “I feel like we ought to take all night just to talk about that.”

“Let’s do it from bed, then,” Scott chimes in. “I’m sleepy.”

“Aww, is the wittle baby tirwed?” Martyn coos, making Scott roll his eyes. He smacks his boyfriend’s arm, standing with a huff. Tango grins up at him, feeling a little endeared. Scott extends a hand.

“Care to join me, since he’s being a prick?”

“Hey⎯”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Tango says cheerfully, accepting the help. Scott’s hand is cooler than his own, which is no surprise, and the scales feel odd against his skin but he’s sure that his claws are the same way for the other man. “So, tell me about your relationships, then, if we’re gonna spend this whole time gossiping. There’s Jimmy, and now there’s Martyn…”

“Officially or non-officially?” Scott asks. Tango blinks at him.

“What does that mean?”

“Well, like including flings, or just committed relationships?”

“Honestly, I wanna hear all of it.”

“Ugh,” Martyn groans, trailing behind them. “You’ll be up all night. My man’s got an extensive history.”

“Are you calling me a slut, M?”

“Never. Unless you’re into that…?” Martyn trails off teasingly. Scott huffs a laugh, his hand squeezing Tango’s own. He feels warm, touching Scott like this. It’s not overwhelming, and he knows he was right in his mental assessment that sex wouldn’t be too much. Still, he respects Martyn and Scott’s wishes, and he has to admit that a night of simply being held is far too appealing.

“Shut up, Martyn. Anyway, sparks, there is Jimmy and now Martyn, and then there’s Sausage from Empires. We have a sort of friends with benefits thing going on, though he’s occasionally my partner, too, it just depends on what world we’re in. After that, I have Owen. He’s my queerplatonic partner, which is basically a boyfriend without the romantic or sexual components.” Scott is ticking them off on his fingers now, which is funny for no reason. “Pearl and Cleo are also my queerplatonic partners, if you didn’t know that.”

“I did not know that,” Tango confirms, wide-eyed. Scott laughs.

“If I go after him mine’ll never sound impressive,” Martyn complains, getting into bed on the opposite side of them. Scott gestures towards it after he does, so Tango takes that to mean that he gets to be the one in the middle tonight. He climbs into bed, curling carefully in the centre in a ball. “I’ve just got Ren, y’know, life partner, and then now Scott, my boyfriend, and Cleo, my soulmate.”

“Just soulmate?”

“Do you call Timmy your boyfriend? Husband?” Martyn asks with a raised brow.

“Well, no, but⎯”

“That’s what I thought,” Martyn says triumphantly, not wasting any time before pulling Tango in close. The touch catches him off-guard, but soon he melts into it, allowing Martyn to guard his back. The other man’s arms wrap around his waist, keeping him secure, and his chin sort of hooks over Tango’s shoulder so he can still look at Scott. “You, I’m assuming it’s just Tim?”

“Yeah,” Tango says around a yawn. “And TIES.”

“You’re together platonically?” Scott murmurs, nudging his way into the cuddle pile. Their legs are all tangled together and Scott reaches out, taking Tango’s hand in his own once more and gently intertwining their fingers.

“No, no, but…family. We’re family.”

“Aww,” Scott murmurs. “That’s sweet.”

“Very sweet. Y’know who else is sweet?” Martyn’s breath tickles his cheek slightly. “Tango.”

“I agree,” Scott says mischievously. Tango groans, opening eyes he hadn’t realised closed to glare at the siren. “What?” Scott smiles innocently. “You can’t say it isn’t true. You’re sweet and adorable, Tango, there’s no escaping it.”

“‘M a grown man, not adorable,” Tango says, pitching his voice as he repeats the word in a mocking tone. Martyn’s laugh ghosts across his skin, and Scott’s smile looks like a beautiful thing in the moonlight. It’s strange; he doesn’t remember being this tired until he was surrounded by warmth and comfort, physical contact on all sides.

“Nah, accept it, mate. You’re adorable, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Ugh, shut up,” Tango complains, closing his eyes and pushing his face further into the pillow. That sets them both off again, laughter soft and rising above the gentle sounds of waves crashing against shore. You don’t get this kind of ambience in the TIES base; Tango thinks he could get used to it, and the two men holding him, even more. It’s a dangerous thought to have in a death game, yet he’s too safe and too tired to push it away.

“Goodnight, Tango,” Scott says quietly, fingertips brushing against Tango’s temple as he moves some of his hair out of his eyes. “Sweet dreams. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Martyn agrees, soft. “Sweet dreams, Tangs.”

Tango hums, feeling himself drifting off. He’s not normally one to fall asleep this easily, but he feels incredibly protected between Scott and Martyn, like nothing can reach him here. Like even death is no longer an inevitability.

“We’re keeping him, right?”

“Are you kidding? He clearly needs to be loved. Of course we are.”

“Good. I mean. Assuming he’s amenable.”

“He approached us, I don’t think we have to worry about that. All we have to do is show him how good of boyfriends we could be.”

“Easier said than done, mate.”

“Don’t rain on my parade, M.”

“Alright, alright.” A soft laugh accompanies the whispered words. “G’night, Scott.”

“Good night, darling.”

He must imagine the conversation, a fragment of a dream with no visuals to accompany it, but it’s a nice thought, in the end. Tango allows it to pull him completely under the thrall of sleep, trusting that he will wake up safe and sound. Hopefully, by the time that sun rises, he’ll actually be able to get what he came here for, even if he feels as wanted as he ever has, simply being held close.

⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Text

⎯⎯⎯

It’s sunlight that wakes him, spilling across his face in warm rays and piercing the backs of his eyelids with too much brightness to bear. Despite the light, it’s not a rushed awakening, nothing hurried about it as Tango curls inwards on himself with a sleepy hum. He’s so comfortable in a way he hasn’t been for a while, not since coming to this world, and he wants nothing more than to cling to the sleepy feeling trailing after each thought. There’s something heavy and warm draped against his back, keeping him safely protected. He turns his head, nuzzling closer into a forgiving surface, different from a pillow but not…quite familiar, all the same.

The syrupy pace of his thinking freezes in place.

He relies on Skizz to wake him at TIES, not the sun, and moreover, he hasn’t felt a need to sleep since he turned Red. Even now, that alien, bloodthirsty instinct prowls restlessly beneath his skin, buzzing in a way that reminds Tango of lit redstone torches. He’s still Red, then, nothing too strange occurred before he fell asleep. All at once, realisation dawns on him, like a wave crashing onto shore. A metaphor that might be a bit on the nose, considering the company Tango kept the night before.

He becomes aware of the breathing filling the air in the next second, the chest beneath his cheek steadily rising and falling. Not with the cadence of someone who’s still sleeping, though the man at his back is heavy with unconsciousness. Tango forces bleary, sleep-crusted eyes open, unfortunately lifting his face from that well-built chest to squint up at the man holding him. Martyn grins at him when he notices Tango’s awake, one hand casually continuing to comb through Tango’s hair while the other rests against the back of his own head, protecting it against the harsh wooden headboard of the bed.

“Hey, Tangs,” Martyn murmurs, voice considerably slower and rougher with sleep. It’s a little fascinating in all the right ways. Shivers dance down Tango’s spine. He realises belatedly that they’d gotten turned around somehow in the night, and that it’s Scott who is plastered to his back, nose pressed against the base of his neck with an arm slung over his chest and fingers just skimming Martyn’s side. Their legs are all tangled together still in a hopeless mess, and Tango feels trapped, but not in a bad way. Not like he’s claustrophobic, looking for space, but rather like he’s compressed, contained for his safety.

“Good morning,” Tango whispers, mindful of the sleeping leech attached to his back. Martyn’s smile grows crooked, twirling blond curls around his fingers absently. The touch feels nice, and Tango’s glad that he hasn’t flared⎯ His flames theoretically shouldn’t be able to hurt any other players, regardless, or catch anything on fire, but Tango’s discovered that even hard-and-fast rules can be bent. He’d rather not take his chances.

“Always a good mornin’ when I wake up to a pretty face,” Martyn agrees, making Tango flush, lazy heat spilling across his cheeks.

“Flatterer,” He accuses, making Martyn huff a laugh. He can feel it rumble through the man’s chest where he has his hand planted for stability, thin fabric of Martyn’s pirate blouse against his skin. Tango sort of wishes there was no fabric, instead, and that Martyn had discarded his shirt sometime in the night.

“For you? Always.” Martyn winks.

“You start talking like that with nothing to back it up and I’m gonna be pretty upset, man,” Tango teases, half-meaning it and half-not. He doesn’t mind if Martyn won’t back it up, but he certainly wouldn’t say no. As nice as it is to be held, especially last night, Tango can feel that itching once more, the kind that feels as if it’s under his skin. A little like Red bloodlust, now that he thinks about it. It’d probably be more productive to channel those instincts into something…pleasurable.

“Who says I can’t back it up?” Martyn raises an eyebrow. His eyes are red now, not the green that Tango’s grown to expect, but no less beautiful because of that. They remind Tango of redstone; the glimmer of that useful ore hidden away in deep caves, often overlooked by others who didn’t know how to appreciate it in its totality.

“Kiss me?” Tango asks, half-cocked, fully expecting to be shot down.

Martyn blinks. “You sure?”

“Gonna be honest, I’ve been thinking about it for⎯ a while.” Tango blows out a breath, attempting to shrug before he remembers that he shouldn’t jostle the siren on his back.

“How long is a while?” Martyn wonders playfully, lips curling into a smirk. There’s a gleam of genuine curiosity in his pretty redstone eyes, though, and hey, nobody ever said that Tango wasn’t a nice dude. He can be indulgent when he feels like it, even though he sort of wants to combust at the idea of talking more about his feelings in front of Martyn. They did enough of that last night, in his opinion.

“This game, at least?” Tango guesses, gaze dipping to Martyn’s lips. They’re a little thicker on the top, an enticing shade of reddish pink, and bitten raw slightly at the corner as if Martyn’s been repeatedly pulling his bottom lip into his mouth and chewing on it. “I noticed because, ‘cause of Scott, ‘course, been watchin’ him since the first game, but, uh, I sort of…couldn’t look away once I saw you, too? It was just curiosity about, well, y’know. This. Since Scott can have…high standards. But then I noticed how cool you are, so impressive, always ready to jump on the bit and always looking out, and your PvP skills are insane, like, seriously, dude, leave some for the rest of us.”

“My bad,” Martyn says with a light laugh. “Guess I’m just too skilled. Sounds like a you problem, mate.”

“And that sounds like something Scott would say,” Tango replies, grinning. He thinks it’s cute, how easily their mannerisms rub off on each other. Martyn snorts with a roll of his eyes once he notices that Tango’s right. Of course he is. He pays an embarrassing amount of attention to Scott, and by extension, Martyn. “So, about that kiss…?”

“Might be a bit difficult with the limpet on your back,” Martyn says wryly. Tango pouts. He’s normally better about stuffing such instincts down, but he really wants that kiss, what can he say? He’s tempted to just non-subtly move Scott out of the way, no matter how much he enjoys the warmth of the siren against him. Martyn’s hand slips from his hair in the meantime, almost absent-minded. “I know what you’re thinking, and, mate, don’t. Scott’s so pissy if he’s woken early.”

“That’s cute,” Tango says thoughtlessly. Martyn laughs.

“You say that now! You’ve never seen it!”

“Yeah, but, like, how bad can it be? He’s Scott. He’s always adorable when he’s all offendificated and stuff. His face gets red, y’know, and then he’s all huffy and I can almost imagine the sparks spitting from his hair. It’s even cuter on Empires, since he’s an ice elf and everything.”

“Does he look much different?” Martyn wonders, intrigued.

“Oh yeah.” Tango nods eagerly. “He’s, uh, what’s the word? Like, fancier? Not in a bad way, but he wears lots of layers, lots of gold jewellery, and the lore really took it out of him. I guess the server took on a mind of its own at one point, and everyone had to work together to get rid of the big baddie. For a while, it was like they were really…stuck in the world, not just players. He was doing way better before we got here, though. Everyone on Empires was.”

“Sounds neat,” Martyn says thoughtfully. “I’ll have to ask⎯” He cuts himself short, expression clouding. Tango blinks in confusion.

“Martyn?” He prods, wary of overstepping. Martyn shakes his head, glancing back at Tango with a small smile.

“Nothing, mate.”

“I don’t like liars,” Tango says carefully. “You can tell me if you don’t wanna talk about it, man, but honesty is a big thing for me. Especially in worlds like this one.”

Martyn winces. It almost makes Tango regret saying anything. “I was going to say I’d ask Tim about it. But that’s⎯ sensitive right now, obviously.”

“Not really,” Tango says, frowning. “He’s still my rancher, my soulmate. We’re just hitting a rough patch, I guess, and it’s made me kind of upset? It doesn’t mean you can’t talkificate about him, or to him. Y’all are close, aren’tcha? I’d hate to skadoodle my way into the middle of that and cause a rift or whatever.”

“I wish I knew what was going on with him,” Martyn says in frustration. “Maybe then I could actually knock some damn sense into him. Void knows he’s only hurting himself, you, and Scott with this avoidance bullshit.”

“I dunno,” Tango says. He hasn’t given much thought to Jimmy’s motivations⎯ He’s been a little distracted with not dying, and failing miserably at that. Really, he’s been too focused on his own feelings of inadequacy to think too hard about why Jimmy is avoiding his partners. “He’ll tell us when we’re out. I just hope he isn’t gone first again.”

“Breaking the curse isn’t that easy, mate,” Martyn says, all soft. “Long as it’s good entertainment, it’ll keep, and Tim’s never been good at hiding his distress. It makes it all better, more worth it for Them.”

Tango shivers. “Yeah. Fuck, that’s creepy.”

Martyn surprises the both of them by laughing. “Tell me about it, man.”

Before Tango can say anything else, or perhaps redirect the conversation to a more enjoyable turn, there’s a faint groan from the man behind him. He feels Scott shift against the covers, humming as his arm curls around Tango’s waist with more intention, and he presses a barely-noticeable kiss to the back of Tango’s neck. He tenses, slightly, with the affection, but only because it sends sparks of pleasure pooling in his stomach. Void. It really has been too long since he got laid.

“Would it kill you two not to be a pair of gossiping hens first thing in the morning?” Scott grumbles in complaint. Tango can’t even try to take it to heart, not with the way Scott is dragging absent fingers against his side, tracing random, nonsensical patterns over the cloth of his shirt. He’s touchier than Tango thought he would be, on those rare occasions he allowed himself to imagine and fantasise. 

“It would, actually,” Martyn replies cheerfully, apparently taking the attitude in stride. Tango laughs, allowing himself to be a bit louder now that the third occupant of their beds has woken.

“Ugh,” Scott huffs. “G’mornin’, Tango.”

“Morning, Scott,” Tango chirps, feeling unimaginably happy. Martyn grins at him, crooked once more, and Tango really wants to kiss him silly. He’s been thinking about it for far too long by now, always wondering what would happen if he just kissed Martyn right in the middle of one of those dramatic rants of his. He shifts slightly, making Scott let out a faint noise of protest. “Sorry, sorry, pretty, just gotta give me some room to work here.”

“Mm, well, hello there,” Martyn murmurs, gaze following Tango while he props himself up better now that there’s no longer a grown man attached to him. Scott has moved further back, allowing Tango the freedom to change his position while still keeping an arm loosely draped over his waist. He’s beginning to suspect it’s a bit of a fixation for the siren.

“Hi,” Tango says with a small giggle, because he’s embarrassing like that. His cheeks burn as he leans in close, nearly to the point where he can nudge his nose against Martyn’s. “Can I kiss you?”

“After all this build-up, I’ll be bitter if you don’t, mate.” The look in Martyn’s is sly in a very attractive way. Tango hums thoughtfully, tilting his head as he figures out how he wants to do this. He brings up a hand, cupping Martyn’s cheek and leaning in for a soft, chaste kiss. “That the best you got?”

“I’m easing into it, I’m easing into it,” Tango complains, breath ghosting across Martyn’s lips as he pulls away a little. The kiss was nice, of course, but nothing special, just a press of lips. He can definitely do better; the good thing about being a redstoner is that Tango is very, very used to repeating experiments until he gets the optimal result. “Not my fault you’re so pretty. All higher thought processing just goes out the window, dude.”

“Now who’s flattering who?” Martyn’s chuckle is breathy, and Tango nearly swallows it as their lips meet once more. This time, he shifts closer, brushing his lips against Martyn’s in a few soft, short kisses before leaning into the main event. Martyn sighs, relaxing into the touch, and Tango almost grins before he remembers that it’s a bit difficult to smile and kiss someone. He sucks Martyn’s bottom lip into his mouth, running his tongue against it and finding that worn spot he’d noticed earlier, earning a slight hiss from Martyn.

“Bad?” Tango checks, pulling away briefly. Martyn’s redstone eyes have grown lidded, gaze clearly trained on Tango’s lips as he shakes his head.

“You’ll figure out soon enough that Martyn likes a little pain with his pleasure,” Scott says, reminding Tango of their audience. He blushes a violent shade of crimson immediately. For Void’s sake, he practically just felt up the man’s boyfriend! Even if it had been discussed the night before, it’s still shameless in a way that has Tango’s hair flaring in embarrassment.

“You,” Martyn grumbles. “You need to shut up.”

“Aww, c’mon, you can’t do that to me. I like talking far too much for that, sweetheart.” Tango can hear the smirk in Scott’s voice. He doesn’t even have to look behind his shoulder to see the man. “Besides, you seem to enjoy my talking an awful lot. Pretty sure you don’t actually want me to be quiet, do you, puppy?”

Martyn inhales sharply at that, and Tango watches as his eyes get a little hazy, a little more distant than just a moment before. He has to stifle a noise of his own. That, the sight of Martyn dipping into a visibly more relaxed and submissive headspace, is so hot he doesn’t know how to handle it. He should’ve known that the Mean Gills were anything but vanilla. Tango hasn’t even been with Scott prior to this, and yet he knows probably too much about the man’s sexual escapades. Sexcapades, if you will.

“No,” Martyn mutters, though it’s sullen. Scott’s laugh rises above the sound of the waves.

“That’s what I thought. Good boy for being honest, darling.” His voice is barely more than a purr, at this point. Tango notes idly, with no small amount of humour, that his bad mood from waking up has seemed to disappear entirely.

“So, that’s a thing for you?” He wonders curiously. Martyn makes a small noise of acknowledgement, eyes still half-lidded.

“From Scott, yeah…”

“What, you don’t think I can do the same sort of commandificating?” Tango asks with a laugh. Before either of them can get the wrong idea, he continues speaking. He thinks the pet name is hot, definitely, but that’s because it’s Scott saying it and Martyn reacting. “Cause, uh, you’d be right, honestly. Not much one for taking control in the bedroom.”

Martyn’s smirk becomes razor-sharp.

“Kiss me,” He demands, looking only at Tango. He can’t help but obey, leaning forward and capturing the other man’s lips once more. This time, Martyn doesn’t wait for Tango to set the pace, immediately diving in and licking at the seam of his lips. Tango parts them, allowing Martyn access to his mouth, and gasps as the other man’s tongue unfurls against his own, hot and wet. Martyn licks up his noises eagerly, pressing Tango closer to his chest as if he could get even further inside. He grabs at Tango’s waist, grip tightening slightly in a way that makes Tango whimper.

“Let him breathe, puppy,” Scott chides, voice cool and collected. Martyn’s hold on him goes lax immediately, sucking gently on Tango’s lip before pulling back entirely. A wet string of saliva connects their mouths, and Tango stares at it, glistening in the sunlight, before Martyn licks his lips and it severs.

“Void,” Tango mutters. “That was way, way too hot.”

Scott snorts. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“I’ll probably self-combustificate at this rate,” Tango jokes, shivering as he feels Scott move closer. He doesn’t hesitate to lean back into the man, a small squeak escaping his lips as he’s pulled into Scott’s lap and away from Martyn. However, the blond pirate is quick to move, too, sitting up properly as he moves closer to face both Tango and Scott. His lips are redder than they were before, making a small spark of pride alight in Tango’s chest.

“Honey, how do you want to play this?” Scott murmurs, far too close to Tango’s ear for his health. That smooth, low voice, paired with an accent that is so undeniably Scott? Yeah, he’s gonna die of a heart attack. He can see it happening now, the death message in chat and the loss of time.

“Eyes on the prize as always, Smajor,” Martyn says mockingly. Scott rolls his eyes. Tango takes the time to shift slightly out of Scott’s lap, not quite all the way but just enough to turn so he can see the both of them. He likes looking at Scott’s face too much for that.

“Expectations are important, Mr. Responsibility. Don’t get on my case just because you’ve had a taste and now you’re impatient.” Scott pauses, that devious smirk of his spreading over his lips once more. “Unless you want me to restrain you, puppy? I’m sure we’ve still got the silk from last time around here somewhere.”

“You wouldn’t.” Martyn says, wide-eyed. Scott laughs.

“Wanna test me?”

“No,” Martyn grumbles, narrowing his gaze. “‘Cause you’re evil enough for it.”

“Mhm. And you’re not the focus this morning, so control yourself for a few moments, alright?” Scott turns his attention back to Tango, who flushes under the scrutiny. Honestly, he finds all this bantering rather entertaining, and it had been doing a marvellous job of distracting him from how close he and Scott were at the moment. Of course, now he’s experiencing it in full-force. “Tell me what you want, honey.”

“That, for sure,” Tango manages, strangled. Scott raises an eyebrow.

“What? Me calling you honey?”

“Any, uh, any pet name, actually,” He says, nodding rapidly. “‘S really nice. Never cared before, but with you, it’s⎯ wow. Yeah.”

Scott has a small smile on his face, the amused kind that somehow doesn’t look like he’s making fun of Tango. “Alright. Thanks for telling me, sweetie. What else do you want? We’re here to make you feel good, okay? All for you, because you deserve it, deserve to be cared for after how good you’ve done.”

The noise that escapes Tango is a mix between a whine and a choking noise.

“Someone likes to be praised, huh?” Martyn wonders, that gaze so intelligent and observant, following every movement of Tango’s. This attention is overwhelming, but in a good way, in the kind of way that means he never wants it to stop. “You like hearing how good you are, Tango? How talented, gorgeous, perfect you are? How you’ve been doing so well in this game?”

“Oh, fuck, Void, yeah,” Tango whispers, thoroughly red-faced by now. “Yeah, uh, yeah, yes, please.”

“Perfect,” Scott murmurs approvingly, pressing a kiss to Tango’s temple. The affection, as chaste and sweet as it is, makes Tango’s heart skip a beat in his ribcage. “What do you want from us physically, sparks? We can go as slow or as quickly as you’d like. I have no trouble with it, at least. Martyn?”

“None here, either,” He confirms, glancing from Tango to Scott with a nod. “All good for whatever you choose, Tangs.”

“You only have to tell us what you want, sweetness. You think you can do that for me?” Scott takes Tango’s hand in his own, tracing patterns against his palm. It’s not distracting, really, sort of soothing in some distant way, grounding with the way Tango feels like his brain has melted and is now leaking out of his ears. He feels a little fuzzy, honestly, not quite subspace, but definitely something more relaxed than usual. He’s less ashamed about what he wants, no longer as worried, as stressed that he’s too much of a burden for everyone around him.

“Yeah, I can, I can,” Tango stammers. Scott hums, not pushing further, only waiting as he collects his scattered thoughts. Martyn is at his other side, not touching but close enough to where Tango is so aware of his presence. He feels small, almost, put between the two of them like this, and it isn’t a bad feeling. “Want it, uh, want it t’be good for y’all, too⎯ ‘n I wanna…want to get fucked, please.”

“Such good manners,” Scott coos, and even that praise has Tango melting like putty in his capable hands. “Is oral on the table? Do you have a preference on who fucks you, darling? No one’s feelings will be hurt if you do.”

“Can, uh, can we⎯ I want, wanna suck your dick, please?” Tango asks, looking at Martyn through his lashes shyly. He can hear the way Martyn’s breath hitches, just as obvious a tell as when Scott had called him puppy. “And then⎯ Scott, would you fuck me?”

“Filled from both ends,” Martyn comments, voice rough. Tango bites his lip at the very thought. Fuck yeah, that sounds exactly like what he wants right now. A way for him to be useful, but also be selfish while doing so, allowing himself to be taken care of by Scott in turn.

“Yeah, yes, can we?”

“Of course,” Scott says easily. “It’s all about you today, sweetheart.”

And isn’t that something to get used to.

Tango bites his bottom lip, stifling the noise that threatens to escape because of that thought. The idea of being the centre of attention for these two, especially after so long of feeling unimportant, just another one of four and not useful enough on his own, is addictive. A hand cradles his cheek, making Tango’s gaze snap to who it was, finding Martyn only grinning crookedly at him. His thumb brushes against Tango’s lower lip and he parts them on instinct, allowing Martyn to drag it down slightly.

“Don’t muffle yourself, firecracker,” He says, not an order but definitely stern in a way that makes Tango want to listen immediately. He’s not normally this pliant in bed, definitely not one to immediately hand over the reigns for control, but honestly? Nothing sounds nicer than that right now. “Let me kiss you?”

“Mhm,” Tango hums, tilting his face towards Martyn. He wastes no time before placing a kiss against his lips, soft and sweet. It lingers there, gentle, and Tango’s eyes sting with tears because he feels⎯ cherished. Martyn kisses him again and again, repeatedly like he doesn’t want to stop. On the third kiss, or maybe the fourth, Tango can’t keep track, he reaches for Martyn’s shirt, pulling him close and holding him there. He parts his lips, sliding his tongue between Martyn’s and turning the kiss filthy very, very quickly. He licks against Martyn’s tongue, his teeth, finding sharp little points and pressing there gently, leery of accidentally cutting himself.

“Void, you’re beautiful,” Martyn murmurs as they break off, eyes heavy with desire.

“Looked in the mirror lately, gorgeous?” Tango snarks, slightly out of breath from just a bit of kissing. He wants more, and he doesn’t feel greedy for doing so for once. Martyn grins, showing off those sharper teeth of his, and Tango wonders idly if that’s just a Mean Gills trait. Scott certainly has the sharpest teeth, outright fangs, but Martyn’s don’t look as blunt as a regular human’s, regardless.

“Can I take this off, honey?” Scott murmurs, lightly tugging at his sleeve. Tango turns his head, breath catching when he realises how close Scott is, that expectant, star-filled gaze trained only on him.

“If I can get a kiss out of it, yeah,” Tango replies, chest aching with want. Scott’s lips curl into a smirk that has no right to be as attractive as it is. He leans forward and places a kiss against the corner of Tango’s lips, barely more than a peck. Tango makes some sort of horribly embarrassing whine, needy as he is, and his flares jump higher with embarrassment.

“Use your words, darling,” Scott teases, that conniving little glint in his eyes.

“Kiss me for real,” Tango demands, not aware of how bratty he’d sound until the words were already out of his mouth. Scott raises an eyebrow. He softens in the next second immediately. “Please?”

“Good boy,” Scott says, coming close once more. His approval is like a drug, making Tango’s head spin. He doesn’t have any more time to think, then, as Scott’s lips are finally on his. It’s careful, a bit hesitant in a way first kisses can only be, but Tango refuses to get left off with only that. He takes Scott’s bottom lip into his mouth, sucking lightly and then biting down, earning a muffled noise from the other man. Pride sparks in Tango’s chest. Scott’s hand comes up to hold the back of Tango’s head, fingers curling through the hair there and moving him as he pleases. Tango goes a little foggy, following Scott’s lead without hesitation.

“There we go,” Scott says as he pulls away, making Tango blink against the sunlight pouring in from all sides. He moves his hands down, grasping lightly at the hem of Tango’s shirt. “May I?”

“Uh-huh, lemme just⎯” Tango shucks off his vest first, handing it over to Martyn without worry. The other blond places it against the ground carefully, which makes Tango’s heart skip a beat. Clearly Martyn’s been paying attention to him, too, if he can tell how important that vest is. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Scott pulls the shirt over Tango’s head, tossing it aside without so much as batting an eye. Tango shivers without his extra layers, but thankfully he’s quickly warming up in the sunlight. He feels exposed, bare, as his two lovers drink in their fill of him. He only barely resists the urge to cross his arms and cover himself up, having a sneaking suspicion that Scott would have none of it. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re so handsome. Yes or no to marks?”

“Yeah, oh, yeah, go ‘head,” Tango replies, breathless. Scott’s grin almost turns predatory, then. Despite being the Red, he feels like the one balanced on a knife’s edge right now. Scott nuzzles against the crook of Tango’s neck, beginning to place kisses along the length of it. Tango’s breath hitches, eyelids fluttering as one of Scott’s hands runs down his side.

“Fuck,” he hears Martyn mutter, and then there’s lips on his, kissing him once more. Tango whimpers as Scott’s teeth graze against his pulse point, grabbing desperately for Martyn’s shirt and yanking him close. Martyn’s knee slides between his legs, nudging against his growing erection, and Tango gasps. Fuck, he wants more, needs more.

“Please,” Tango says against Martyn’s lips. “Please, wanna be fucked, please.”

“Sure, baby, of course,” Scott says, pulling back from where he was attacking Tango’s neck with his teeth. He manages to pry his eyes open, eager as he looks down at Scott. “You okay with me telling you what to do, Tango?”

“Yeah,” Tango laughs. “I thought that was obvious?”

“It never hurts to check!” Scott claims, grinning. “How about this, baby? You suck Martyn’s dick while I get you ready to take me.”

“Yeah, fuck, okay, yeah,” Tango breathes, turning his head and capturing Scott’s lip in a kiss. He can feel Scott’s smile against his lips, and even though it’s not quite the best kiss in the world, it still makes Tango’s heart all aflutter. He loves feeling Scott’s happiness. They trade lazy kisses for a few more seconds before Scott moves, pulling his own t-shirt above his head and tossing it to the side. Tango’s eyes go wide.

“Void, you two are so fucking hot,” Martyn groans. He’s positioned himself back against the headboard, pants shucked off at some point when Tango wasn’t paying attention. He’s casually stroking himself, hard cock in hand. His mouth waters. Martyn smirks, eyes lidded. “C’mere, firecracker. You want a taste of this?”

“Oh, gods,” Scott groans theatrically. “You’ve got him talking like he’s in a bad porno.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Martyn says with a laugh. Tango joins him, grinning widely at the exasperated look on Scott’s face. “You’ve said just as many crappy one-liners as I have.”

“Yeah, well, not today,” Scott says importantly. “Normally I waste those on you, since it gets you off. You have bad taste.”

“I’m sleeping with you, maybe rethink that, prick.”

“Hmm. Well, I guess maybe you make exceptions for the men you sleep with, because Tango certainly isn’t in bad taste, either. You just get off on shitty dirty talk,” Scott teases, voice dripping with smugness. Tango snorts at the offended look on Martyn’s face.

“I get off on perfectly reasonable dirty talk!”

“Suuure, M, sure,” Scott drawls. He presses a kiss to Tango’s temple, sliding his hand down and patting his ass. “Move for me, baby. Go on, suck Martyn’s cock. He gets testy if he’s not given enough attention.”

“I do not⎯” Martyn splutters. Tango laughs, crawling forward between his legs, and he shuts up right quick after that. He runs his face along the inside of Martyn’s thigh, eyes lidding as he presses a kiss to the soft skin there. “Gods, you’re so beautiful. Fuck, firecracker, c’mere.” Martyn’s hand winds through his hair, giving no sign that the flames hurt him.

“Nnngh,” Tango moans at the light tug, allowing Martyn to pull him closer to his cock. He trails wet kisses against that buttery-soft skin, parting his lips and sucking a mark gently into the skin. He bites down, remembering what Scott said about Martyn liking a little pain with his pleasure. He feels Scott pull his pants down, lifting his hips to aid the other man. “So, so hot,” Tango murmurs, pulling away from Martyn’s thigh to the bobbing cock in front of his face.

He brings up a hand, carefully stroking along the shaft of Martyn’s cock. He collects the precum from the drooling slit, rubbing it in against his skin. Tango leans in, pressing his lips to the tip in a kiss. He lids his eyes, looking up through his lashes at Martyn as he takes the head of his cock into his mouth. Martyn audibly moans at that, red eyes blown with lust. Tango takes in more, inching down and laving his tongue along the spongy underside of the head of his cock.

He gets distracted momentarily with the feeling of fingers circling his hole, wet lube drizzling down between his cheeks. Tango whimpers, pushing back into Scott’s hold. He can feel Scott’s hand pressed against his ass, keeping him there as he gently presses one finger into his hole. Tango moans, getting used to the feeling. It’s strange, not quite pleasurable, at least not until Scott crooks his finger just right, brushing against that spot that makes Tango see stars.

“Shit, Tango,” Martyn hisses, tangling his fingers in Tango’s hair and pulling him closer. He goes as far as he can muster without triggering his gag reflex, inhaling the musky scent of Martyn deeply. He smells like the sea, a little bit, and warm and distinctly masculine. “Fuck, baby, so good, so good for us. You’re doing so well, firecracker, so perfect.”

Tango whines at the praise, almost wanting to close his eyes against the sheer amount of sincerity in Martyn’s eyes. The man groans at the vibrations through his cock, hips twitching as he bucks slightly into Tango’s mouth, making him gag. Martyn whispers a curse, easing back immediately, and Tango carefully pulls off of his cock, a string of frothy spit and drool connecting his lips to the head.

“Sorry, firecracker, didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Tango says, hoarse. “You can, if you want. You can fuck my mouth.”

“Void, how are you real?” Martyn breathes, wide-eyed. Tango laughs, not answering before he takes Martyn’s cock back in his mouth. It fills him in all the right ways, making Tango lose himself a little bit in the repetitive motions as he bobs his head and sucks at his cock. He relaxes his throat, eyes falling shut as he sinks down on Martyn’s cock to the hilt, burying his nose in the thatch of blond hair at the base.

“Isn’t he gorgeous for us, Martyn?” Scott hums, pressing another finger into Tango’s hole and carefully scissoring them. Tango moans, pressing back into him even as Martyn’s hips start thrusting. His cock fills his mouth, thick and full. He chokes slightly, eyes watering, but it feels so good that he doesn’t even care. “So, so good, Tango, taking my fingers well. You’re doing so good for me, baby. You look so pretty like this, all stretched out on my fingers, taking Martyn’s cock.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re beautiful, I love it, love what you do, firecracker,” Martyn murmurs, running his fingers through Tango’s hair. “Absolutely gorgeous, baby. You’re doing perfect. You want more? Want Scott’s cock inside you?” Tango whimpers audibly at that, squirming against the bedcovers.

“I’ve got you, Tango, don’t worry,” Scott murmurs, fitting a third finger into Tango’s hole. The stretch burns even with the extra lube, but it feels good, making him feel pleasantly full. He whines, pushing back against the touch. “Shh, shh, baby, I’ll fill you up, I’ve got you, love. You’re so precious, sparks, so good for us.” Scott’s cock nudges against his hole, his fingers slipping out and gently pressing in. Tango gasps around Martyn’s dick, whining as his eyelids flutter.

“Good, good, so good,” Martyn repeats with a moan, fucking up into Tango’s mouth. “Gonna, ‘m gonna cum, baby, you want me in your mouth or on your face?” He withdraws slightly, leaving Tango’s mouth empty. Little whimpers and noises escape him as Scott pushes into the hilt, burying himself deep in Tango.

“Mouth, please. Cum in my mouth,” Tango asks, gasping. He moans as Scott’s hand wraps around his hard dick, stroking quickly but not too quickly. His cock is long and curved, hitting all the right spots that make Tango see stars. Martyn hums, running his hand against Tango’s hair and burying his fingers there. He pulls, not in a way that hurts, but noticeably so, tilting Tango’s head as he fucks his cock back into his mouth. Tango’s eyes fall shut, allowing the sensation of being rocked back and forth to soothe him.

“Jesus,” Martyn breathes. “You’re so good, so pretty for us, Tango, doing so well. I’m gonna, oh, fuck, Tango.” He cums with a moan of Tango’s name, spilling into his mouth and down his throat. Tango swallows around Martyn, curling his tongue around the shaft of his cock and licking it clean. He pulls back slowly, working Martyn through the aftershocks, and swallows the last of his cum. It’s salty, a bit bitter, but nothing Tango hasn’t tasted before.

“So tight around me, darling, fuck, so perfect,” Scott murmurs, leaning over Tango and pressing his front to his back. He pulls Tango close, a hand finding his nipples and playing with them. Tango whines, arching his back as he presses onto Scott’s cock. “You wanna cum, baby? You want Martyn to make you cum?”

“Please, please,” Tango says, a litany of moans and noises falling from his lips as Scott fucks against his prostate. His mind is all fuzzy, hazy with pleasure and want. He needs to cum, wants it so bad. He looks down, pupils blown with lust as he watches Martyn’s hand wrap around his cock. It’s so much bigger than his own are, and it feels rough, callused in different spots from holding a sword the way Tango’s are callused from messing with redstone. “Martyn, oh, please, more, can’t I have more?”

“Shh, firecracker, yeah, I’ve got you.” He twists his hand just right, and that’s it, right as Scott fucks against his sweet spot⎯ Tango is gone. He’s cumming with a shout of someone’s name, garbled, Scott’s hand pinching his nipple as Martyn strokes up and down his dick to work him through the aftershocks. “Oh, there you are, gorgeous, you’re adorable. Beautiful as always, precious.”

“Nnh,” Tango whines as Scott keeps fucking into him. “Keep, keep going, please, Scott, wanna feel you, want you t’cum in me, please.”

“Of course, baby, anything for you, such a good boy,” Scott murmurs, thrusts steady and unrelenting as he chases his own orgasm. Tango falls into overstimulation as easy as breathing, shuddery little whimpers escaping him. He shakes slightly and Martyn mumbles soothing little praises, nuzzling their noses together and pressing gentle kisses to his lips.

“Oh, there you are, firecracker, doing absolutely beautifully. So good for Scott, aren’t you? Perfect.”

“‘M close, baby, pretty close, gonna cum soon,” Scott warns, sinking his teeth into the side of Tango’s neck. They’re sharp, nearly sharp enough to draw blood, and the very thought of it brings a moan from his throat. Scott’s thrusts grow shaky and uncoordinated as he nears an orgasm. “Oh, fuck, Tango⎯”

Tango whimpers as he’s filled, twitching in his hold.

“Look at that,” Martyn breathes. “Did so good, Tangs, absolutely perfect.”

“Mhmm,” Tango hums. “So did you.”

Scott huffs a laugh. “We should take a bath, darlings.”

“Nice try,” Tango says. “Like I can walk after that. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve done anything? I’ve got jelly legs.”

“Aww,” Martyn coos. “How cute. Poor wittle baby.”

“Look at that, he’s being a prick again,” Scott murmurs fondly, making Tango snort. “We have a bath downstairs, in the storage area. It should be full of fresh water…might not be the warmest, though.”

“I can do that,” Tango volunteers. “If someone wants to carry me, that is.”

“Sounds like a job for the big, strong Red.”

“Thought I was being a prick?” Martyn says mockingly. He gathers Tango in his arms easily, cum sliding down his legs and making him feel slightly icky. He could definitely use a bath. “I’ve got you, firecracker. Since our ice princess here is far too delicate to carry someone.”

“Listen, I just figured that after last time⎯”

“Oh, you shove it.”

“What happened last time?” Tango asks, laughing, as Martyn carefully clambers off the bed. He manages to keep his balance, remarkably, and Tango quickly latches his arms around his neck. Scott grins, following them from the bed and out from underneath the sheltered awning.

“Well, M here has the stubborn streak the size of Saturn’s rings, and he insisted on carrying me to bed the first time we slept together. He didn’t actually fall, so I suppose I should be impressed.”

“I certainly am,” Tango says, giggling.

“Mm, what do you want to do for lunch after this?” Scott wonders, draping against Martyn’s shoulder as they walk underneath the deck. They bypass the walls of chests, walking to the corner where there’s a few curtains strung up, thin and soft. Scott nudges them aside quickly, revealing a makeshift bathtub made of wood that’s full of water.

“Not fish, please,” Martyn groans, settling Tango onto his own two feet. “We’ve had so much fish.”

“Well, duh.” Scott rolls his eyes. “Tango, honey, what about you?”

“What about me?” Tango asks, blinking, before he slides into the water. It is cool, but not cold. It takes barely more than a thought before Tango heats the water around him, making it a comfortably hot temperature. Martyn slides into the water in front of him with a relaxed sigh. 

“What do you want for lunch?” Scott clarifies, slipping into the water behind Tango and wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Oh, I didn’t know I was invited,” Tango says, blushing.

“Of course you are,” Martyn says, tilting his head behind his shoulder to look at him. Those pretty redstone eyes gleam, even in this dim lighting underneath the pavilion. “Won’t you let us wine and dine you, firecracker?”

A smile stretches across Tango’s lips. “Oh, Void, yeah, of course.”

“Good,” Scott says with a huff of laughter. “Now, seriously, what’d you want for lunch?”

“Dunno,” Tango yawns, leaning back against Scott’s chest. “I’ll eat anything that’s not just carrots and potatoes.”

“Mm, I’m not picky, either,” Martyn agrees.

“Yeah right, Mr. I won’t eat fish.”

“We’ve had too much lately!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I just like giving you a hard time.”

“You’re lucky I love you, you prick,” Martyn mutters, sullen. Scott snorts.

Before anyone can say anything else, Tango hears distantly, a loud knock against the door. He freezes, and Martyn hums.

“Wonder who that is. We’re just so popular lately.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “They’ll have to come back later. Right now, we’ve got a pretty little netherborn in our bath, and there’s no way we’re open to visitors.”

Tango laughs. “How rude!”

“Of course,” Martyn murmurs. “You’re our top priority.”

And for someone who hasn’t felt like anyone’s top priority recently⎯ well, that’s just too good to hear.

⎯end.