Work Text:
Nickel was perched precariously on his bed, one foot planted against the wall and pressing hard on a corner of a poster, the other foot trying its best not to bounce him off the mattress. His tongue poked out slightly in concentration, and his foot flattened the edges of the glossy paper against the wall, hoping—begging—it would just stick. He held it there for a good ten seconds, unmoving, breath held, muscles tense.
Slowly, carefully, he began to ease his foot down, watching the poster like it was a scared animal he didn’t want to startle. For a brief, shining moment, it stayed. A triumphant grin curled on his lips—until the poster immediately peeled off and flopped to the bed like a dramatic faint.
His eye twitched.
“UGHHHH!! Why won’t it STICK?!” Nickel yelled, voice cracking with sheer indignation as he launched into a frustrated bounce on the bed, knees bouncing, his whole body a little tantrum of rage.
On the small sky-blue couch nestled in the corner of the room, Balloon had been quietly writing in his poetry notebook. One leg was tucked under the other, his pen gliding across the page with practiced rhythm. He’d been sneaking glances at Nickel the entire time, a soft, amused smile tugging at his lips. Ever since they decided to share a room—after the big hotel re-furnishing project—Nickel had been determined to decorate their space and make it feel like theirs. Of course, that included plastering his half of the room with all the posters he could find.
Balloon giggled quietly at the display, but after another round of Nickel groaning into a pillow, he finally took pity on him. With a sigh, he set his notebook and pen down on the little table beside the couch and stood up.
Crossing over to the bed, he climbed up beside his boyfriend and, without a word, gently palmed Nickel's head and scooted him aside like a grumpy cat. “Alright, move. Let someone with hands do it.”
Nickel huffed but obeyed.
Balloon grabbed the poster, straightened it, and stuck it firmly to the wall with the blue-tack, pressing down on all the corners and smoothing it with extra care. He stepped back, hands on his hips, proud of himself.
“There. Perfect.”
And then it fell. Instantly.
The poster flopped onto the bed again, defying the laws of adhesion with a level of sass that seemed almost personal.
Balloon just stared at it, lips pursed in defeat. Nickel, on the other hand, exploded.
“UGHH I AM GONNA FFFFKKKNNN—!!” Nickel grabbed a pillow and screamed into it, his foot dangerously close to giving the wall a solid kick. “THIS WALL IS A MENACE! THIS STUPID TACK IS TRASH!”
“Maybe the bluetack’s too old… or maybe it’s the paint,” Balloon mumbled thoughtfully, rubbing his chin like a scientist analyzing a failed experiment. “Or maybe the poster’s cursed.”
At that exact moment, Bomb wandered down the hallway, casually on his way back to his room. The moment he passed Nickel and Balloon’s door, the raised voices and chaotic energy practically smacked him in the face. He froze mid-step, wide eyes peeking into the room.
“Uh… w-whats all the sc-screaming?” Bomb asked hesitantly from the doorway, already inching back a little like he wasn’t sure if this was a safe space.
Both Nickel and Balloon turned their heads toward him. Balloon flopped back onto the bed with a sigh, arms flared out dramatically.
“Nickel can’t get his poster to stick,” he explained simply, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement.
Nickel sat up, pointing a leg at Balloon. “You couldn’t get it to stick either, so don’t act like I’m the only failure here!”
Bomb blinked, taking a moment to absorb the scene: the crumpled poster, the defeated bed-flop, and Nickel’s ever-increasing aura of fury.
He tilted his head thoughtfully, tapping a finger to his chin. Then his face lit up like a lightbulb flickering on.
“W-what if you stapled it t-to the wall?” Bomb suggested, clearly proud of his outside-the-box thinking.
Nickel and Balloon both stared at him.
“…Staple it?” Nickel echoed, skeptical.
“Y-yeah! That w-way it won’t fall off, r-right?” Bomb beamed.
Balloon leaned over to Nickel and whispered, “Okay but like… he's not wrong.”
Nickel blinked slowly, eyes drifting back toward the cursed poster. His expression morphed from disbelief to deep, dangerous consideration.
“…Do we have a stapler?” he asked.
Balloon’s face lit up. “I think Test Tube has one.”
Nickel bounced back onto his feet, all his earlier rage forgotten and replaced with smug triumph, a self-satisfied grin tugged at his lips like he’d just solved world hunger with office supplies.
“That’s actually a genius idea! Bomb, Go ask Test Tube if she’s got a stapler!” Nickel barked, jabbing a foot toward the door like a commander sending his soldier to war.
Bomb blinked. “M-m-me?!”
His eyes widened in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. He hadn’t signed up for an errand run—he thought tossing out a helpful suggestion would earn him a thanks, not a job assignment. He glanced between the two of them, already knowing the answer before he even asked.
“W-why not Balloon?” he asked, voice laced with just the right amount of grumble.
He knew why. It was favouritism—plain and simple. Of course Nickel would rather be alone with his boyfriend than with him. He wasn’t stupid. Nickel never wanted to leave Balloon’s side for too long, and leaving him alone with Balloon? Yeah, right. As if that wouldn’t send Nickel into a passive-aggressive spiral. And Nickel? Go get the stapler himself? Pfft. Please. That’d require moving, and Nickel was both lazy and possessive.
“Because… Balloon’s busy! Obviously!” Nickel snapped, glaring. “Just go! Go go go, shoo, move it!”
Bomb let out the longest, most dramatic sigh his lungs could produce. “Ffffffffiiiiiine,” he muttered under his breath, dragging his feet as he turned around.
He stomped off down the hall, grumbling as he went. “L-lazy ass Nickel… not even a ‘please’... I-I bet he wouldn’t survive five minutes in a stationery store…”
Back in the room, the tension slowly ebbed. Balloon sat quietly on the bed, nervously fiddling with his thumbs. His eyes lingered on the doorway where Bomb had just left. A pang of guilt tugged at his chest. He didn’t mean for Bomb to feel like an errand boy—they really did need that stapler, but still… Balloon worried he might’ve been too cold. Bomb was a nice person, Balloon didn’t want him to feel like they were using him or anything.
Nickel flopped back onto the mattress with a grunt, kicking his legs up like a cat settling into a warm patch of sunlight. He turned his head to look at Balloon, eyebrows raising when he noticed the way his boyfriend was still fidgeting, brow slightly furrowed.
A soft, knowing smirk spread across Nickel’s face. He could recognize that look from a mile away—Balloon was worrying again. Sweet, gentle, emotionally responsible Balloon. Ugh, he was cute when he worried.
Well, Nickel knew just how to fix that.
He rolled over lazily until he was lying on his side, his smirk only widening.
“So,” he purred, “wanna make out while we wait?”
Balloon blinked and snapped out of his thoughts, his cheeks immediately dusted pink. “Nickel!” he laughed, gently swatting him with a pillow.
“What? It’ll kill time,” Nickel said. “Also, you looked stressed. This is purely a therapy session.”
Balloon shook his head with a smile, sliding a little closer on the bed. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Yeah, but I’m your idiot,” Nickel replied smugly, already leaning in.
Balloon sighed softly as he leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut as he closed the short distance between them. His lips met Nickel’s in a gentle, unhurried kiss, one full of quiet affection. Nickel instantly melted into it, his smug grin fading into something softer—something real. He shifted onto his knees so he could press into Balloon’s space, meeting him halfway. Without hands to anchor himself, he leaned entirely into Balloon’s touch, letting his boyfriend’s hand settle on the top of his head to keep him grounded.
Balloon’s fingers moved slowly over the grooves in Nickel’s metallic surface, tracing over the familiar, imperfect dents with the care of someone who had memorized every inch. The way Nickel tilted into his touch made his heart flutter—it was intimate, more than just kissing. It was trust.
Their kisses deepened slowly, a rhythm building between them like the tide. Sweet. Slow. Purposeful. What started as soft smooches turned into something more heated, more involved, the kind of kissing that blurred time and pulled them into their own private little bubble. Minutes passed like seconds.
Eventually, Nickel found himself lying on his back against the pillows, eyes lidded and lips slightly parted, while Balloon hovered above him, a soft pink glow dusting his cheeks. They were still kissing, their lips moving in a smooth, practiced flow, their bodies relaxed and tangled together. Balloon held Nickel close, one hand at the back of his head, the other bracing himself just above his boyfriend’s (shoulder.)
It was warm. Safe. Just them.
And then—finally—Balloon pulled back, breath catching in his throat. His lips were slightly swollen, his voice dazed and dreamy. “Whew…”
Nickel blinked up at him, eyes hazy, a lovesick smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Wow…” he sighed, cheeks faintly flushed as he shifted under Balloon’s weight.
But then his gaze wandered to the crumpled poster lying forgotten just beside the bed.
“…It’s been awfully long, huh?” Nickel muttered, his voice still a little airy. He stared at the poster like it had personally betrayed him. “Didn’t think getting a stapler would take that long…”
Balloon slowly sat up, glancing toward the door with a small frown. “Yeah… that’s weird. Maybe he got distracted?”
He looked back down at Nickel. “Wanna go check on him?”
Nickel groaned like he’d just been asked to lift a boulder with his face. His body sagged against the bed dramatically, and he turned his head to Balloon, eyes going wide and watery, pout forming like clockwork.
“Baaalloooooooon,” he whined in his softest, most helpless voice, “please? My legs don’t work anymore. I think all that kissing drained my life force.”
He gave the most exaggerated puppy-dog eyes he could muster, blinking up at his boyfriend.
Balloon blinked at him. He knew this routine. And he hated how well it worked.
He stared at Nickel, then let out the longest, most dramatic sigh of his own. “Ugh… Fine,” he grumbled, dragging a hand down his face.
Nickel immediately perked up, his smirk returning like sunshine after a storm. “Aww~ You’d do that for me?” he cooed, leaning up to pepper Balloon’s cheek with kisses. “You’re soooo good to me.”
Balloon pushed his face away with a groan, but he was already smiling. “Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky you’re cute.”
He stood up and shuffled toward the door, muttering under his breath. “Lazy little gremlin… make me do everything…”
Nickel watched him go with a dreamy grin, lying back against the pillow and sighing to himself. “He loves me so much…”
Balloon disappeared into the hallway, still mumbling. “Yeah, I love you. But if Bomb’s just down the hall talking to OJ about paperclip physics, I swear to god…”