Work Text:
The Frustration
“Stupid Wander! Stupid games! Stupid hugs!”
Lord Hater stormed his way through the black and red corridors of the skullship, stepping over or kicking aside dazed and injured watchdogs. The scene of mayhem was familiar after almost a year and a half of dealing with his two enemies.
“Peepers!” Hater yelled.
“Y - yes, sir?” Hater’s commander pulled himself out from under some broken pieces of rubble from where the zbornak had thrown him into an instrument panel, again.
“You deal with all of this! I’m going to my room, and under no circumstances am I to be disturbed. Is that understood?”
Peepers straightened, pausing in his efforts to knock the dents out of his helmet to pull off a rather weary salute.
“Completely, Lord Hater.”
“Good!”
Hater didn’t pause, but went on stomping through the hallways until he reached his personal apartment, locking each set of doors behind him until he had finally reached the inner sanctum.
As he entered, he peered around for Captain Tim, but his pet was nowhere to be seen, probably out tormenting some of the watchdogs he’d passed in the hallways.
With a sigh, Hater slumped forward, resting the heated bone of his forehead against the wall.
Normally, Hater would feel a little disappointed that the arachnomorph wasn’t in his room when he returned. His little Tim-Tim was such a comfort when he’d had a bad day, but this time it was kind of a relief. He didn’t want his beloved pet to see him like this.
After another encounter with Wander.
An image of his nemesis floated before his eyes and he lifted his skull from the wall, then let it fall back with a thunk as he tried to drive the picture away.
That smile.
Thunk.
His voice.
Thunk.
His singing.
Thunk.
That stupid, dumb, annoying face!
THUNK.
“Ow!”
Hater pulled his head away from the wall, rubbing the front of his skull.
Slowly, he walked over to his bed, sinking down to a seat on the soft mattress. He leaned back farther until he was lying down, legs hanging off the edge and eyes staring vacantly up at the ceiling.
Wander.
He couldn’t get Wander out of his head, couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was so frustrating! So annoying and weird and happy and affectionate.
And he’d been so close!
Hater could practically feel the hug the nomad had given him earlier, those noodly arms wrapped around him and orange head resting on his stomach, big eyes staring up at him from under that lousy, awful, green hat. He could still feel how the warmth of that hug had seeped into his bones.
It was somehow still inside him like a fever he couldn’t get rid of.
But Wander had left now, rescued by the zbornak yet again; all the soldiers littering his destroyed hallways were evidence enough of that.
Wander was gone.
Stolen.
Taken.
Rescued from his merciless clutches.
His absence was like the chill of deep space.
Still, maybe he should be grateful for once that Sylvia had interrupted and whisked the little nomad off.
He’d almost given himself away.
He could still feel that moment, stretching out to somewhere in the distance, still see the scene playing in front of his eyes like a movie he couldn’t turn off.
Wander had been chained to a torture rack, as usual, and Hater had been pacing back and forth, ranting to him while the nomad listened patiently, that easy smile wrapped around his face. It had been too much, suddenly. Hater had felt his anger flare. He’d leaned close to sneer at Wander, to really gloat about how his most hated enemy had finally been captured.
Of course, the gloating hadn’t really been doing much good. Wander hadn’t been scared, he’d just kept smiling, eyes shining that bizarre mix of joy and affection that made no sense at all.
And that was always frustrating.
But this time, something had stopped Hater cold.
He hadn’t noticed until then just how close he’d gotten to the little pest. He found his eyes focusing almost unwillingly on Wander’s smile, on the orange fuzz on those gently curving lips, and his rant had trailed off into nothingness.
Wander’s smile had seemed rather sly then, sly and knowing in a way that had always stoked Hater’s anger, and lately had been stoking much more than that.
He felt his skull heat up, his heart pounding in his frozen body, too fast. He seemed to be holding his breath, though he didn’t know when he’d started.
A thought had drifted through Hater’s frozen skull then, settling itself insistently inside his cranium, taking up all available space.
They were so close, so close already. How easy it would be to finally move that final couple of inches, to give it all up. All he had to do was lean forward, and…
And then Sylvia came crashing through the door.
“Ugh!”
Hater closed his eyes, covering his burning face with his hands.
He didn’t know when it had started, when his intense hatred for Wander at morphed into…whatever this was. He hadn’t noticed where the line was, when his feelings had begun to shift. It all muddled together in his mind.
He only knew it was getting worse. Whenever he got too close to the furry pain, his cheekbones would get hot, his hands start to feel shaky and his heartbeat increase inside his ribcage.
He didn’t know how to stop it. There was no way to dampen the fire inside him.
He couldn’t stop hunting the nomad; he knew that much. He’d tried, good gob, he’d tried! He’d tried to focus on his conquering, but even planning an entire planet-destruction tour hadn’t been enough to distract him. As soon as Wander had shown up again, he was all Hater could think of.
Being close to Wander was torture, but being away from him was worse.
And he had to be careful. He couldn’t let what had almost happened today happen again. He couldn’t let anyone know how he felt, not Peepers or the watchdogs; they’d probably all desert, and Hater wouldn’t blame them, not the zbornak who would most likely laugh and mock him by posting more internet videos, and certainly not Wander.
Oh, Grop, not Wander.
Just the thought of Wander finding out was a nightmare.
That sweet, happy smile, a warm, furry hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay, Hatey.”
Or:
“I’ve always known.”
Those sparkling eyes looking deep inside him. Seeing his secrets without judgement, just understanding.
Or, worst of all:
“I love you too.”
Warm, fuzzy lips meeting his. A small, warm body held against his chest, no air between them.
“Oh flarp!”
No, Wander finding out would be the end of the universe.
Hater sat up, suddenly, eyes trailing across his messy room to rest on his door, still securely locked.
He was alone; he’d made sure of that.
He still felt hot inside, flustered and uncomfortable and so so restless.
It was good he’d given orders not to be disturbed. He needed to quiet the feelings, at least for now, to relieve this frustration he was left with after every encounter with his most hated enemy.
He was going to need some time to himself before he saw any of them again, especially him.