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In More Ways Than One

Summary:

Hood just wants to wind down after a long day. Fortunately, he gets to do exactly that with the people he loves most.

Notes:

Dear LORD it's been a while. But regardless, I'm alive and kicking! Admittedly, I've been obsessed with these three as of late, and the hyperfixation is still going strong—enough to compel me to write this. Turned out a lot more fluffy than what I initially had in-mind, so please enjoy it!

And to anyone who has read my fics before this, you may notice that the writing style has changed. Didn't spend all that time not posting doing nothing, after all! This is also the first fic I've ever gotten beta read! Anywho, I hope you find the new style much more pleasurable to read. Expect it to continue improving in the future!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

To be blunt, Hood is fucking exhausted. From running around the city helping Delta find her lost cat, to carrying out two different jobs for Zeta in the same day, to missing the evening train and having to wait, only for it to cancel on him, the only thing he wants is to relax. Why does he do so much for others and get nothing but misfortune coming his way every time? 

He mumbles curse words under his breath as he half-drags his feet across the pavement, scraping the rubble beneath and leaving faint scratch marks in their wake with every step. For the love of Alpha, he's supposed to see his partners tonight. He could've been there by now, but instead he's here showing up late at night to the Dearest's mansion like a street rat that's come to collect the scraps of the food it was offered days ago.

After some time, he finally reaches the mansion, using the keycard given to him to unlock the gate. It creaks open, the nearby crickets scattering into the grass. He walks up the cobblestone path—almost tripping while he's at it, and rings the doorbell as he steps on the front porch. It plays a high-pitched, annoying jingle that causes him to ball his hands up into fists and his toes to curl as a pang of irritation resonates through him. God—I forgot why I never ring that…

He waits, settling his hands into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie and tapping his foot impatiently before—“Hood! Hello darling! We've been expecting you!” Mommy Mearest says, her voice cutting through the evening silence.

He looks up at the taller woman, forcing a smile with his eyes along with the tone he typically talks to people in. “H-hey! Psychic wanted to see me! Is he here?” In all honesty, he really does want to be more genuine, especially for one of his partner's masters. Though this alone is already hurting his eyes, and the hesitancy in his voice isn't doing him any favors either.

“Well of course he is! He's waiting for you right in this room with your other little friend!” she replies in an exaggerated, almost artificial motherly tone as she steps aside to let him in. He quickly wipes his shoes on the rug and thanks her, eager to get past the pleasantries and keep his partners waiting no longer.

As he makes a left and enters through the door at the end of the hallway, and there they are right in front of him sitting on the couch. Psychic and Void, eyes now locked onto him like hawks. “Well look who finally decided to show up,” Void says, crossing his arms while putting one leg over the other. “What took you so long, Hoodie?”

Hood's eyes widen at the nickname, a warmth suddenly rising in his chest not provided by the burning fireplace. “Uhh…I was busy.”

“Busy as in looking for a reason to not come?” Psychic asks, though lacking any serious bite that would normally come with a question like that.

“N-no! It's not like that! I just…” he trails off, his response provoking laughter from the two and prompting him to reach for his hood. 

“Ay, c'mon Hoodie. You know we're just playin’ with you,” Void says, calling out the obvious attempt to hide away from them and causing the embarrassment to go straight to his face in the form of a blush. It's moments like these where that nickname feels more like an insult—a play on his name that exists for the sole purpose of humiliating him. Of course, Hood knows that's not what the former is trying to do with it—at least right now. He just hates how that one word can completely break his composure and leave him a flustered mess when he uses it at the wrong moment. Suppose it's his fault for approving it.

“Here, have a seat,” Void says, patting the empty space between him and Psychic. Hood reluctantly steps forward into the light from the doorframe, still denying them the full view of what he's feeling as he walks towards them with his head lowered. At this point, he acknowledges he's doing too much to conceal the shame that's already dancing for his partners. Why does he try so hard? A question for the ages, truly. He reaches them and sits down, having to squeeze himself between them as he closes his legs to accommodate the tight fit.

At that moment, he notices something about the room they're in—there are two couches. If that's the case, why is he sitting here? More importantly, why does Void want him to sit here? And why is Psychic of all people okay with it?

Suddenly, he feels something prod him in the right side of his stomach, abdominal muscles twitching as he instinctively tries to pull away from the sensation. He yelps, his upper body jerking to the left and accidentally shoving Psychic against the armrest of the couch. “You good, Hoodie? You've been starin’ at that couch for a while,” Void asks, leaning back as he puts his hands behind his head.

“D-don't do that!” he protests, half-laughing his response. “You're gonna hurt Psy!” he says, gently punching Void in his underarm.

“I'm good,” Psychic says. Gently nudging him to scoot over. The alphian obliges, deliberately ramming his body into Void to give the psychomancer more space.

He chuckles, watching Void's smug demeanor collapse as he's given a taste of how Psychic feels. To be honest, he isn't really that angry about being poked in the first place, but someone has to show him that he's not the one pulling all the strings here. “Gah! Okay! Okay! I'm sorry!” Void says, playfully shoving him back.

The two continue at it, shoving, laughing, and crawling on top of each other as the couch creaks below them. Meanwhile, Psychic watches from the other side, a genuine smile manifesting on his face as he also gets shoved. It's almost like just watching them be happy with each other is enough for him. Almost. Void then jumps on Hood, knocking the wind out of him as he asserts himself onto the other.

“Why you—!” Hood says before burying himself deep into Void's chest and rubbing his face into it. The pop star's laughter grows more intense as he tries to push him off. But why would he? Hood responds by binding his arms around Void's waist and pinning him against the armrest, ensuring his total entrapment.

“WAIT! I—HAHA! HOOD! T-THAT'S NOT FAIR! I—! HAHA! OKAY! YOU WIN!” Void explodes in laughter as he squirms desperately underneath him. Hearing him admit defeat? It's something Hood relishes in much more than he would ever admit. Satisfied, he releases Void and gets up off of him, catching his breath all the while.

“Hah…you…asshole…” Void says as he's met with his cocky expression from above.

“I learn from the best…”

The world outside is still, and soon the final laughs of the two on the inside as well. The three sit without a word, exchanging the occasional glance with each other as the crackles and pops of the fireplace fill the stillness of the room.

“Hey…Void?” 

“...Void?”

In response, he gets the sound of snoring coming from the one that had been tackling him in hugs five minutes ago. Void, now slumped over, his headphones slowly drooping down his head. He catches them before they have a chance to hit the ground and wake him up.

“Already?” Psychic asks. “You must've really tired him out from that,” he says. Hood places the headphones around his neck, the cold metal causing his neck to twitch briefly before his body heat warms it up.

Psychic glances down afterwards, seemingly deep in thought as he taps his left index finger against his lap in rhythmic succession. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Hood asks, turning his body to face him.

“Could I…ask something of you, Hood?” Psychic asks, offering a hand to him, which he takes. His palm meets his as they lock fingers, his skin feeling like there's supposed to be nothing there, but there is something—if you could even call it skin. The physiology of his taller partner is something he definitely should be used to by now, yet isn't. “Could you and I…be affectionate like that as well? Well—I don't mean exactly like that, but…something similar?”

Whatever shock Hood feels is soon replaced with a burning feeling of affection in his heart. The only thing he wishes is that Psychic wouldn't be so hesitant to tell him sooner. “Of course. How do you want to do it?” he asks, putting his other hand on top of the one he's holding.

Psychic breaks eye contact, circling them around the room as he sheepishly scratches the back of his head with his other hand. “Like…I dunno. Just…hugging, but less intensely?”

“You mean like this?” Hood says, letting go of his hand and pulling Psychic into a hug—his arms gently, yet firmly squeezing his waist. Soon enough, the hug is returned, with the latter adjusting his position to face him as well and wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling their faces closer—no more than an inch apart. Hood observes the eyes of the other man, watching the deep magenta in them dilate as his eyelids gradually conceal more and more of them. God—those eyes. He thinks of them as the most beautiful ones he's ever seen—they stand out compared to every other human or alphian he's met, that's for sure. And with how soft Psychic's face looks right now? Dare he say he looks…adorable?

“Yeah…exactly like this…” he says, voice quiet as he presses his forehead against his, eyes fully shut. The realization pierces through Hood faster than a bullet—he cannot find a shred of tension or hesitation in the hug at all. Does he really trust him this much? Enough to where he feels he can completely let his guard down around him? He wants to say something—to tell him how much he loves him. Yet…he doesn't. It's times like these where words are inadequate. Hood simply presses his forehead against Psychic's with the same amount of pressure, closing his eyes as he feels tears of joy pricking at the edges of them.

After being intertwined for what feels like an eternity, Psychic pulls away, and Hood quickly wipes his eyes to prevent him from seeing his tears. Even if held at gunpoint, Hood could not explain the sensations he's experiencing at the moment. Happiness? Relief? Gratitude? It's almost too much for him to handle. He grabs his chest, as if all of the feelings are about to spill out right here in front of him. And as far as he can tell? Psychic feels the same way—eyes fixated on the couch cushions while using one hand to support his weight. Could he blame him? With how closed-off he typically is, there's a lot to take in when those barriers are torn down—especially of his own volition.

Okay…just chill…

A few more moments of silence before Psychic sits up straight, fixing his collar and clearing his throat. “I…thank you, Hood.”

“Anytime.”

“And uh…one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Could you tell Void to be more like that when he and I hug? I'd like them a lot more that way.”

Notes:

Thanks for reading—kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, as always!

(Man- these three are going to be the death of me...)