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“I’ll be honest,” Jax called, walking behind the rest of the group. “That might’ve been one of our best shows yet.”
Zooble didn’t slow. “Hardly!” she barked over her shoulder, drumsticks still hooked between her green claw-hand. “You sang the wrong line in two of the songs.”
Jax pressed a hand to his chest like he’d been shot, gasping. “First of all, it was one song, not two. Second of all, I was experimenting.”
“You... you said ‘cheese’ instead of ‘breathe,’” Gangle murmured, bass guitar still slung awkwardly across her back.
Ribbit snorted. Jax glanced at the frog, then shrugged. “Okay, fine. Minor lyrical reinterpretation, whatever. But you can’t tell me that crowd wasn’t insane.”
“He’s right,” Ribbit admitted, “that crowd was a lot bigger than I'm used to.”
Zooble snorted. “The pit was good. I’ll give you that.”
“Oh, now you’re giving me credit?” Jax scoffed, bumping his shoulder into Ribbit’s as they headed down the backstage stairs. “Write this down. Historic moment.”
“I’m not giving you credit,” Zooble shot back. “I’m giving the crowd credit. They were carrying your sorry vocals.”
Jax gasped. “My vocals were flawless.”
“You still said 'cheese' though,” Gangle reminded him quietly.
“I was experimenting.”
“Then do that during rehearsals,” Zooble insisted. “Like those things every other Thursday that you're supposed to come to on time!”
Ribbit grabbed his jacket when he leaned too far into her. “You’re delusional.”
“Am I?” Jax grinned, letting them steady him. “It was packed.”
The hallway backstage smelled like sweat and lingering smoke. Cables meandered across the floor like snakes and stray water bottles teetered on the edge of the large circular table in the middle of the room flanked by four plum-colored sofa chairs. Glitter clung stubbornly to the corners, catching what little light the flickering bulbs threw.
“Yeah... maybe we should just be glad that we nearly filled the venue?” suggested the ribbons, who was making her way to her bass guitar case propped up against the wall.
Ribbit nodded in agreement. “Eighty-seven percent of the seats filled is good enough for me.”
“Boo, Ribbit's being a nerd again!” Jax punched Ribbit's shoulder, forcing a yelp and a “Hey!” out of the amphibian. “Plus, eighty... what, seven? That's basically ninety, right?”
“That’s not how math works—”
“And ninety is basically sold out.”
“That’s even less how numbers work.”
“Which makes us,” Jax finished smugly, “basically legendary!” Jax suddenly put his arm around Ribbit's neck from behind. They yelped, and stepped on the hare's foot really hard, which made him want to scream too.
“If you guys get in a physical fight again,” warned Zooble. “someone's gonna find a drumstick up their a%s.” He raised his drumsticks just enough to make a point. Jax immediately took a step back, hands up, grin still plastered on.
“I was just joking,” Jax said with a chuckle. “Relax. Ribbit bruise easily?”
Ribbit rolled her eyes but didn’t move away from him. “I bruise because you don’t know your own strength.”
“That sounds like a you problem, not a me problem.”
Zooble huffed and turned back toward the couches. “If either of you end up on the floor, I’m not dragging you to the ER, just know that.”
Gangle lingered by her case, watching them with that quiet, careful look. “You two always do this.”
“Do what?” Jax asked, too quick.
“You know… fighting.” Ribbit cleared her throat and shifted, fingers already digging into her jacket pocket. She pat herself down once. Twice. Her brow furrowed.
“S%@t,” they muttered. “Did I lose my lighter again?”
“I’ve got it,” Zooble called, already fishing a small yellow lighter with tiny stickers on it out of her pocket and flicking it open. The flame appeared, dancing in a blue hue, then shifting to the typical red-orange. Zooble closed it, snuffing the flame, and tossed it toward Ribbit, who caught it with a bit of a fumble. “Because every single concert we do, you lose it.”
“How adorable,” Jax teased with a mock swoon. “But... in case you’re wondering, I’ve been taking them since our first gig, so—”
“You have?! I—” Ribbit groaned exasperatedly, then shot him a glare sharp as daggers. “You hoarding little b%@#h.”
Jax snickered despite himself.
Ribbit tilted her hand, shielding the flame as she lit a cigarette. The action brought her just close enough to Jax that their shoulders brushed. He followed suit, tapping his cigarette to hers, and for a moment the smoke from the two of them curled together in the dim light—close, casual, but somehow charged.
Zooble lit his next, sharp and practiced, then held the lighter out between him like an offering. Jax tapped the end of his cigarette against it, inhaled, and exhaled toward the ceiling.
They hovered there for a second, three plumes of smoke curling together.
Zooble lifted their cigarette. “To Pink Flamingo Rebellion!”
The three made quiet miniature cheers for their band name, tapping their lit cigarettes together in a lazy, improvised cheers.
Gangle watched them from near the wall, popping off ther happy ceramic mask and slipping that into the bass case as well. “… I still don’t really get why you guys do that,” she said softly. “Doesn’t it... like.. suck?”
Zooble glanced at her, then shrugged. “Yeah.” Roughly, they stuck the cigarette into the side of their head where a little hole was. They smoked so weirdly.
Jax grinned. “That’s part of the fun.”
Ribbit took a drag, eyes half-lidded. “It’s stupid if you ask me.”
“But—but why do you do it then?”
“Because, these two bozos—” Ribbit pulled Zooble and Jax in, pressing the two of them close to her sides in a linear group hug “—got me into it, and now I'm stuck on a bus that doesn't go to my stop.”
Gangle though about it before letting out a singular “Oh.”
Ribbit released them from the lopsided hug with a dramatic sigh. “See? Peer pressure. Tragic. I used to have standards.”
“You f%@king liar,” Zooble muttered. In response, Ribbit stuck out their tongue mockingly.
They all drifted toward the cluster of plum-colored chairs. Zooble claimed a chair first, dropping into it heavily and immediately spreading out like she’d paid rent on the entire damn seat. The unbuttoned white shirt with black flower doodles fell open slightly as they sprawled, belts and spiked accessories clinking together. A cloven hoof leg hooked over the armrest, the other peg-like one planted wide, drumsticks still in her grasp as she leaned her head back.
Jax took the chair opposite her and made a show of mirroring it—slouching low, knees spread, one arm thrown over the backrest like he was posing for an album cover no one had asked for. He tipped his head back, eyes half-lidded, the ghost of a grin still tugging at his mouth.
“Look at us,” he said lazily. “Peak professionalism.”
“F%@k you, bunny wh%@e,” Zooble spat without opening her eyes. Jax scoffed, very offensedly at that, mind you.
Gangle lowered herself into the smallest chair with far more care than necessary, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her leather skirt before crossing her legs neatly at the ankle. The little collar and bow at her throat shifted as she fidgeted, bracelets sliding softly down her wrists.
Ribbit did not so much sit as rearrange themself. They took off their guitar, leaning it against the back off the chair, perched sideways in their chair at first, then changed their mind, swung a leg over one armrest, and finally ended up half-sprawled across it, back draped over one arm of the chair and feet hooked over the other. The loose fishnet top rode up as they stretched, revealing the black spaghetti strap tank beneath—and the faint glitter catching along their skin under the low light.
Jax’s eyes flicked over without meaning to. He looked away a second too late.
Zooble cackled out of nowhere.
“What?” Jax asked, curiosity making him lean forward and rest his arms on his knees.
“Nothin', just thought of somthin' funny.”
“You wanna share with the class, Zoobie?”
They sat up, eyes in a squint, and took the cigarette out of their head hole (god, was there a better nome for that?).“Mmmmm... nope.” They shoved it back in, but not before a stream of smoke got forced out, making Zooble resemble a chimney to Jax. He rolled his eyes and tsked.
“Are... are you okay, Ribbit?” Gangle's words dragged Jax's attention to the other girls sitting at the table.
“What? Oh—yeah, yeah.” Gangle looked like she had reason to ask the question—Ribbit looked like she had been in her own head-space there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “Just... does the crowd make you guys uncomfortable at all? Or is it just me?”
Jax straightened and tapped his chin, thinking cartoonishly. “Ehh, not really. You got stage fright now or what?”
“Nah,” Ribbit conveyed, kicking their feet slightly. “Like they're all just... weirdos?”
Gangle and Jax shared the making of a drawn-out “Ohhh” from that clarification.
“I—I get it, yeah,” Gangle agreed, twisting the ends of her ribbon hands together. “They can be... interesting.”
“The world's fulla creeps,” said Zooble. “you just gotta deal with it and ignore them.”
“I know...” Ribbit murmured, dragging a finger along the rim of their chair. “But that one person in the fourth row? The one that yelled marry me after just about every song?” Their voice had this mix of disbelief and irritation. “They were… really committed.”
“The one with the glowsticks?” asked Jax.
Ribbit snapped their fingers and pointed at Jax. “Yes, that one! Been at the last three shows, too.”
“Holy—three?” Jax's brow furrowed. “What, they made of money or somethin'?”
The frog shrugged. “I don't care if they are, I'm not marrying a freak stranger, thank you.” Ribbit took another drag with a shallow chuckle. “I mean—I get it's supposed to be a joke, but... it just makes me really uncomfortable, y'know?”
“Yeah... I'm sorry, Ribbit,” Gangle murmured, eyes flicking between Ribbit and the floor. “That would bother me too, honestly.”
“Meh, its fine. What can I do anyway?”
Jax frowned slightly, glancing at Ribbit. He felt that little tug in his chest—the 'I wish I’d noticed sooner' one. She shouldn’t have had to deal with that alone. But… the makeup was already starting to sting. He caught a glimpse of the faint shimmer along her hands and wrists, the sparkles she’d carefully applied to everyone tonight. “I’m washing this paint off, Ribsy. You mind?” There was a softness in his voice, because he knew how proud she was of doing everyone’s makeup—and how happy it made her to see them look good.
Ribbit readjusted their position so they were sitting upright and properly. “Nope. I gotta get this off too.”
Jax tossed his jacket over the back of his chair, smirking. “Race to see who gets it off fastest?”
Ribbit gave a competitive grin as she stood up. “Oh, you’re so dead.”
They bolted for the bathroom at the same time, shoulders knocking hard enough to send them both stumbling sideways. The race felt less about makeup and more about proving something neither of them could name.
Ribbit’s foot caught a stray cable and Jax’s hand shot out, steadying them. Jax froze for a heartbeat longer than necessary before he pulled them up.
“Careful,” Jax murmured, voice low. “Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself.”
Ribbit rolled their eyes. “You’re one to talk, Bun-Bun.”
They reached the bathroom door, and Jax held it open with a flourish. “After you, m'lady.” Ribbit stepped inside, but not before a glance over their shoulder that made Jax’s chest tighten.
When he made his way in, however, Ribbit was already bending over a sink with flowing water coming from the tap, scrubbing under her eyes with a shocking amount of vigor.
“Crap!” He made a scramble to the sink nearest and turned the faucet on. He removed his gloves by tugging at them with his teeth (his hands would've taken too long) and spat them out onto the floor, and then matched the intensity of Ribbit's face-washing methods the best he could.
“And—” Ribbit stood upright and rid her face of the dripping water. “—I am the winner. Again.” She flicked the spare water on her hands onto the back of Jax's head with a snigger.
Jax froze. Water trickled down the back of his neck. “… Oh. It’s like that?”
Ribbit grinned. “It’s absolutely like that.”
He scooped water in both hands and flung it at her as counter-attack.
She gasped. “You jerk!”
Water flew between them, splattering against mirrors, tile, and anything else unfortunate enough to be in range. Their laughter bounced off the cramped bathroom walls, loud and reckless and still buzzing with leftover stage energy.
“Get back here!” Ribbit laughed, lunging for him with dripping hands.
Jax yelped dramatically and bolted for the stalls. “Absolutely not!”
He retreated into the nearest stall and barely had time to shove the door shut and put his back against it before Ribbit’s hand smacked against it from the other side. “Oh, you pussy!”
“Strategic retreat,” Jax shot back.
Then Jax dropped to his knees, flattened himself against the tile, and shimmy-crawled under the divider into the next stall over. The bathroom floor was definitely disgusting, but it was gonna be worth it.
A second later, he heard Ribbit shove open the stall he’d just abandoned. “… Are you kidding me?”
Jax clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his snickering. Footsteps. A pause. Another stall door creaked open—the one beside his old hiding spot. Not this one.
Jax opened the door and darted toward the sinks while Ribbit was still checking the wrong stall. The faucet was still running full blast, water rushing white and loud. He cupped both hands under it, gathering as much water as he could hold. In the mirror he saw Ribbit get into a squat, likely intending to see where Jax's feet were, but her plans were foiled when she saw none under the stalls.
Their head turned toward him just a second too late as Jax sent the miniature lake in his hands right onto their front. He cackled, turned back to the sinks, and with a new handful of liquid turned back to Ribbit.
A split second later something soft—but surprisingly solid—smacked him full in the face. “—Ngh!” He stumbled back a step, hand flying to his nose. The water he had was released and splashed to the floor. It didn’t hurt-hurt, but it definitely had some force behind it. He looked down to identify the culprit that hit him.
A completely wrapped, singular pristine roll of toilet paper sat at his feet, looking like it came straight from a janitor's closet. It's wrapping was pink covered in tiny blue leaves.
“… Where did you get an entire roll of toilet paper from?”
Silence. Jax looked up. “Ribbit?” She wasn't standing in front of him anymore.
Before he could even turn, ice-cold water was poured straight down the back of his shirt. Jax shrieked. Not yelped. Shrieked. Like a little fucking girl.
He jumped so hard he nearly slipped, clawing at his back as water soaked down his spine. “YOU ABSOLUTE—CHEATER!”
Ribbit cackled behind him, already backing away with wet hands raised in triumph. Her tiny denim shorts were already darkened at the edges from splashed water, torn tights clinging to her thighs.“I started the game, you doof! I make the rules and I say that that counts!”
“Well your game sucks!” Jax snapped, shivering dramatically.
“You're playing it, aren't you? Stay mad!”
Jax scooped up the abandoned toilet paper roll from the floor and hurled it at her. It hit Ribbit square in the shoulder with a soft thud and exploded slightly on impact, shedding its pink wrapping skin and unraveling a loose tail of paper that immediately began soaking up bathroom water like a starved sponge.
Ribbit glanced down, frowning in mock disappointment. “Really? That’s your move?”
Jax just grinned and flicked more water at her from the sink behind him. Ribbit shrieked and retaliated, sprinting over to the sink and sending a splash back. Water flew in little arcs again, dripping off the tiles and splashing onto the floor. They ducked and lunged, laughing as the mess grew, puddles forming around their feet.
With a mischievous grin, Jax snagged her wrist mid-splash and shoved her gently against the wall. Ribbit froze for a heartbeat, then burst into little froggy giggles, wriggling but not resisting too much.
“Let me go, weirdo!” Ribbit said uncontrollably laughing. They pressed against Jax, but obviously not pressing hard enough to actually force him away.
Jax hummed in thought, though it was more a hum of mischief than actual thinking. “Uhm... y'know what? I don't think I wanna.”
“Really?” she teased. “You gonna handle me gently at least, Bun-Bun?”
“Hey, remember that you started this,” he murmured, poking her in the chest with his free hand.
Her hands slid up his soaked shirt, no longer pushing him away. “You hid in a stall. Doesn't matter who started it, I think I won.”
“What, I can't sneak up on you now?”
“You're a coward, and a coward surely can't in my opinion.”
“Prove it.”
Ribbit hooked a foot behind his ankle and shoved. Jax stumbles, balance compromised, and now he was the one hitting the wall. She pressed in before he could fully recover, hand braced on his collarbone.
Ribbit planted their palm beside his head. “You think you’re so slick, huh?”
Jax huffed a breath that was half laugh, half shiver. The back of his shirt was still soaked, fabric clinging to his spine. Her hand was cold where it pressed on him, thumb hooked just slightly in the neckline like she might tug.
“I am slick,” he breathed. “That’s what happens when you dump a gallon of sink water down someone’s back, right?” Water dripped from both of them onto the tile in slow, steady ticks. Somewhere behind them, the faucet still ran full blast, white noise filling the small bathroom and swallowing the sound of their breathing.
Neither moved to turn it off.
Ribbit’s fingers slid up his chest again, slower now, tracing the damp outline of fabric of his white tank that did nothing to hide the fact that he was soaked to the bone, lilac fur plastered to it. Testing.
“You’re shaking,” he whispered. “Is Froggy cold?”
“You’re still talking,” Ribbit shot back. “Is Bunny stalling?”
“Shut me up.”
She grabbed the front of Jax’s shirt and pulled him down before he could smirk about it. The kiss landed crooked at first. Jax made a involuntary noise against her mouth, but then leaned into the kiss. His hands came up, sliding wet and cool along her waist before gripping tighter and finding their way under her top.
God, she was cold.
Her skin felt like a stone pulled straight from a riverbank, cool and slick from the fight, and the contrast against his soaked fur and the heat underneath it sent a shiver straight down his spine.
They tasted of smoke. It wasn't strong enough for Jax to choke on; it was just the ghost of smoke clinging to her mouth, warm and bitter at the edges. And under it, something sweeter. Sugary. Bright.
And then the heat. A slow, sharp kick that bloomed against his tongue a second after the sweetness did.
Ribbit's thumb brushed the base of one of the hare's ears by accident and his shoulders jerked as a small moan escaped him accidentally. That spot was sensitive, apparently.
He flattened his ears slightly as he angled his head, and suddenly he wasn’t just responding, but pushing back. Not to overpower Ribbit, but to match the intensity she gave. Jax's own pulse hammered in his ears, and he knew hers couldn’t be any steadier.
Jax wished he could live in this kiss for all eternity, forever entwined in the sloppy, soaked ballet with Ribbit, their passion undeniable. They pressed so close to each other they might as well have been two halves of the same heartbeat, a single thing. The intensity burned through him, and for a moment, all that mattered was the heat between them, the wildness of her touch, her mouth against his.
But then his heart did something strange. It skipped, just for a second, and he realized this was the most alive he’d ever felt. All the chaos of their fight, the cold water, the teasing—it was freeing from the demands of life and all, but absolutely nothing compared to this. He wanted her like this. Every part of her, even the parts that made him crazy.
However, not every good thing can last forever.
Jax's ears perked upright when a new noise was introduced: the slow opening of a door. They both whipped out of the kiss, turning their heads toward the entrance to the bathroom. They were frozen solid, statues of granite.
Out the door came a red mannequin character with a cowboy hat, a bright yellow janitors bucket and mop wagon in his tow. The first thing he looked at was the floor. The floor that had more lakes than fucking Alaska and Florida combined. Then, ever so slowly, he tilted his head up to meet the gaze of the two losers who were kissing a moment before, Jax and Ribbit.
They stared at the mannequin janitor for what felt like an eternity, like deer in headlights of a parked car on the street.
“Wha—” the mannequin began, but disappeared before he could finish even the first word. Like, actually disappeared. Poof, bye-bye.
Jax couldn't help but snicker under his breath, but failed trying to hold it in. Ribbit joined in, releasing Jax from their grip so they could just laugh. Together.
“How are gonna explain this?” Jax said through a chuckle, pulling his wet shirt from his body.
“What if...” began the amphibian, hesitating. “We don't? Pretend like everything is perfectly normal and if anybody asks, just say 'oh, y'know...' and just don't finish the sentence.”
“You absolute genius.”