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A few weeks had passed since- everything.
The first contestants practically evaporating within the eyes of everyone else, finding out that they were created for the sole purpose of a game show, the mass genocide of the rest, Knife and Suitcase’s duel- which had been interesting to hear about, waking up within Mephone’s android-like brain, and then being revived.
Not to mention the death of that disgusting, sad excuse for a man, Steve Cobs.
Taco halted in her motions of hammering down one of the stair pillars inside the mansion, her face darkening. It had been weeks. Weeks since the death of Steve cobs. She was glad the man was dead.
Shoving down the other thought inside her head, that he had also died that same day, she swallowed down the lump in her throat. Rapidly blinking away the blur in her eyes with a semblance of frustration, she zeroed in on tending to the one side of the stairs.
He wasn’t dead. Not yet. Taco wouldn’t accept that until Testube herself delivered the news, that she couldn’t repair him. Until that happens, he isn’t dead.
A pair of footsteps walked up to her, the person clearing their throat, “Hey, Taco.”
The blonde stiffened for a moment, before carefully turning her head to face the curly green-haired man. Her eyes flickered to the scar on his right eye for a moment, before she forced that thought to the very back end of her mind.
“Pickle. Hello,” she greeted, carefully controlling her tone.
“Bow wanted me to hand these to you,” he gestured to the dark planks of wood in his hands, before bending over to lay them on the ground, “she thought you would most likely run out soon. Do you need more?”
Taco glanced at the wood, “I think this is enough. Thank you, Pickle.”
Pickle just curtly nodded his head, lingering there for a moment. With some sort of hesitance, he began to walk away. Taco stared at the back of his head, a conflicting expression evident on her face.
“How have you been?” she blurted out, immediately backtracking at the surprised look on Pickle’s face, “Sorry- sorry, nevermind, you should go get your- um, chores done.”
“Right-” Pickle paused, stepping to walk away before he turned back to Taco, “Well-.. I actually don’t have anything to do. As of right now.”
“Oh. That’s- that’s very good. I’m just.. hammering down some nails here. Well- you could already see that- okay.”
Pickle gazed down at the uncharacteristically odd sight, with Taco being all over the place in her words and mannerisms. Scratch that, this wasn’t as odd as it would have been back in early season two.
He came to the realization a little while ago that she had almost completely lacked any form or type of social skill, appearing uncomfortable by just standing next to another person. For crying out loud, she was worse than himself! That was saying something.
Clearing his throat awkwardly, “Well, I’ve been doing okay.. I could be doing better, but it is what it is.”
Taco’s tense posture slightly relaxed, “Ah-, yes- I suppose so..”
“..And you?”
“Pardon?”
“How uh, how have you been?”
“Oh. I’ve been fine.”
An awkward silence settled over the two. Taco’s unconvincing tone didn’t help either, that she was obviously, in fact, not fine. That was left unspoken in the air.
Pickle felt something akin to relief when he saw Microphone walking over, waving them down.
“Hey guys! How’s it going?” her chipper tone had asked.
“Ugh, it’s going absolutely terrible, Mic. I’ve been doing nothing but hammering down at these railings, and they’re still nowhere near done!”
Microphone chuckled, “Awh, I’m sure you’ll be done soon, just gotta have a lil’ patience!”
The blonde just scowled at Microphone, causing the girl to laugh in response, playfully swatting away Taco’s hand. Fixing her gaze onto Pickle instead, there was a sort of understanding between the two, which relieved Pickle of the prior suffocating silence.
“You’re as loud as ever, huh?” Pickle huffed out, a barely noticeable smile on his face.
Putting a hand onto her chest and puffing it out, Microphone grinned, “Just my job! Besides, everyone is so tired this morning. Gotta spice some things up around here, y’know?”
“Well maybe they’re tired because it is the morning. You do know it’s only-” Pickle checked his watch, “-eight in the morning, right?”
“I’d hardly call that early,” Taco muttered under her breath.
Nudging the girl with her elbow, Microphone rolled her eyes and sighed, “You know, not everyone around here is a night and day owl like you. Some of us actually wake up at a normal time.”
“So what you’re saying is that one in the afternoon is the perfect time to start your day and have breakfast?”
“One in the-” Pickle laughed, clearing his throat, “One in the afternoon? Good god, you’re worse than me, Microphone. How is that even possible?”
Microphone chuckled in response, putting a hand over her mouth as she tried to lower her voice a bit. Taco let out a fond huff, rolling her eyes and going back to sizing up the right sized wooden planks.
After a moment or two, she found herself zoning out once more, her eyes unfocusing as her smile slowly disappeared.
From behind, Pickle glanced over at Microphone. The woman in question looked down towards Taco, eyes filling to the brim with concern. Her brows were up-tilted, staring at Taco with worry and some sort of sorrow.
“Taco, you know what we should do later?” the curly black-haired woman suddenly spoke up, catching the other’s attention, “we should have a girls night!”
Feeling total whiplash from a moment ago, Pickle suddenly realized what Microphone was doing, now noticing the foggy look disappearing from Taco’s eyes. She was distracting her. It probably wasn’t healthy to do this, but no one else here was really even equipped to deal with their own problems properly. Distractions were all anyone could use nowadays.
Pickle crossed his arms in faux offense, “Wow, in front of me? When I can’t attend? Ugh, how rude.”
Microphone glanced over at him, her face lightening up in gratitude when he gave her a thumbs up, before putting her hands on her hips with a smirk.
“Well, you and your boys can have a guys night or something, this-” Microphone pulled Taco over by the shoulders, “is reserved for cool people only.”
Putting a hand to his chest, Pickle sarcastically drawled out, “Oh how dare you insinuate that I’m not ‘cool’. I’m awesome.”
Suddenly feeling a smack against his face, Pickle whipped his head around to see a floating pillow, illuminated by a faint silver glow. The pillow suddenly dropped, lifeless on the ground, and they were now face to face with a grinning ghost Knife.
“She’s right, Pickle,” Knife nonchalantly shrugged, “you’re not cool. You actually kinda suck.”
“You are so lucky that you’re a ghost,” Pickle glared, holding up a clenched fist.
“Yup, you’re right.”
Knife proceeded to launch another pillow at Pickle, the man catching it right in front of his face with an annoyed groan.
Taco had let out a surprised laugh, the woman staring on with glee as the two bickered. Seeing Microphone sigh with relief had pulled some of the tension out of Pickle’s shoulders, the green-haired man going back to bicker with Knife.
“Guys!” a higher pitched voice called out, belonging to Marshmallow, “breakfast is ready!”
Everyone who was in the main room of the mansion walked towards what they now remade to be the dining room, Lightbulb running past a few and dragging Paintbrush along with her.
“Huh, wonder what they made this time?” Microphone asked out loud, walking next to both Taco and Pickle, Knife floating behind them.
Pickle just shrugged, and the others had entered the room, sitting down at the long table. A few had been digging into the bacon and eggs on the big plates, and some were just sitting down. A comfortable atmosphere had settled along the room, even if it wasn’t a calm one.
Loud chatter echoed across the room, many different conversations being had at once. Taco just stared down at her plate, idly poking around at the food with a fork. Next to her, Microphone glanced over, her lips thinning with worry before she shook it away with a smile on her face.
“Is it still difficult to hold the fork? I can help if you need it.”
Taco sighed, “No, it’s not that, but thank you for the offer. I suppose I’m just.. not hungry, today.”
“Right..” Microphone worriedly glanced to the side, before back to Taco, “Well, if you ever need anything, I’m here for you, okay? Like, if you wanna talk-”
With an almost desperate, pleading look from Taco, Microphone abruptly stopped talking.
“I’m fine, Mic. There’s nothing wrong.”
“..I get that. I won’t press you for anything, but you know you’re allowed to mourn him. Just like everyone else.”
Taco had gone silent, her head dipping as her eyes were downcast. Her lip wobbled, before she exhaled with a shaky sigh.
“I miss him,” she had uttered quietly.
“I know,” Microphone replied, “and that’s okay. Hey, why don’t we go visit Testube and Fan after this? Checkup on how progress is going, yeah?”
Taco stared up at Microphone, a bittersweet smile on her face, “I’d.. I’d like that. Thank you.”
With the kitchen doors being slammed open, it had silenced the entire room as a familiar scientist had appeared.
Her hair frazzled, glasses slightly tilted off her face, Testube had her arms outstretched from where she just forced the doors open. She was heavily panting, and the sight alone would’ve caused concern if it weren’t for the bright gleeful smile on her face.
“Everyone! We have good news!” she shouted, garnering the full attention of the other residents from the mansion.
Behind her, Fan came running up, excitedly jumping down to her side, “We did it!”
A few people were confused, some questioning what Fan meant by that, but a certain blonde couldn’t hear as a loud ringing settled in her ears.
Without sparing a second, Taco jerked up out of her chair, the thing sliding back with a screech. She bolted out of the kitchen, stumbling on her feet slightly as she pushed past Fan and Testube. A few shouts could be heard from behind, but she didn’t care.
Racing to the mansion’s doors, she shoved them open and stumbled onto the mansion’s porch. As soon as she locked eyes with the familiar figure in the distance, the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She dashed forward, her strides increasing in length, butterflies swirling in her chest rapidly as he turned back at her.
Leaping forward towards him with a shout, tears cascaded down her face as she grinned, “Mepad!”
The humandroid caught her in his arms, stumbling backwards as he lifted her up to properly hug. Taco had buried her head in his shoulder, her arms tightly, yet carefully, wrapped around his neck, and her legs had crossed around his torso, clinging to him like a koala.
Mepad had simply wrapped his arms around her back, before carefully lowering her to the ground. Her face now buried in his chest, she pulled back to look up at him, almost checking to see if he was actually real.
“Hello, Taco,” Mepad smiled warmly, lifting a hand to hold the left side of her face.
Taco, face soaked with tears, her eyes wide and watery as her face was flushed, leaned into his hand with a wobbly smile. Mepad used that hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, settling his hand back onto her cheek as he used his thumb to wipe away any stray tears that had fallen.
The blonde had buried her head into Mepad’s chest once more, hugging him tightly, “Never do that again,” her voice had been slightly muffled from both her sobbing and her being pressed against his sweater.
“If I had not done that, you all would have been gone, forever,” he quietly spoke, a gentle hand resting at the back of Taco’s head.
Taco’s grip tightened, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his sweater, “I missed you.”
Mepad wrapped his arms around her fully, a content smile on his face.
“Ahem,” Knife had loudly coughed, causing Mepad to glance up.
In front of him was basically everyone else from the mansion, only a few missing as they were watching from a further distance, or just now exiting and making their way over. Mepad locked eyes with an emotional Marshmallow and politely waved at her, causing the girl to smile happily.
“You done clinging onto him yet?” Knife had teasingly gruffed out, raising an eyebrow.
Without missing a beat, Taco untangled her arm and raised it back, flipping off the direction of Knife’s voice. The crowd broke out in laughter, everyone excitedly coming closer, a few also hugging Mepad with relief.
With Taco’s hand intertwined with his, Mepad let himself be dragged back to the mansion by everyone else, keeping up with the many different conversations happening around him at once.
Everything would be okay.