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“So you really don’t have a crush on Princess Peach?”
Mario rolled his eyes, not even looking up from the pot he was stirring. “Luigi, we have been over this.”
Luigi leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching him with a knowing expression. “Yeah, and every time we go over it, you don’t actually deny it. You just… gesture vaguely and change the subject.”
“I don’t gesture vaguely,” Mario muttered. He gave the sauce an unnecessarily aggressive stir. “And anyway, it’s already been proven.”
“Proven?” Luigi raised an eyebrow. “By who?”
“By… circumstances,” Mario said, as if that settled it. “You saw everything. We saved the kingdom, we worked together, she didn’t—” he waved the spoon in the air, searching for the right phrasing “—she didn’t say anything like that, just gave me a little smooch on the cheek. So. Proven. It's just a crush.”
Luigi blinked. “Mario, that’s not how that works.”
Mario finally turned to face him. “It is how it works. If there was something there, it would’ve come up. A big emotional moment, some fireworks, dramatic music in the background but nothing. Therefore, it is what it is.”
Luigi stared at him for a long moment, then broke into a small, amused smile. “You know what? Alright. If that’s your conclusion, I’m happy for you.”
Mario nodded, satisfied, and turned back to the stove.
Luigi paused, then added, “I’m just a little surprised you haven’t tried taking things to the next level.”
Mario froze mid-stir.
“Next level?” he repeated carefully.
“Yeah,” Luigi said, shrugging. “You know. Ask her out. Dinner, a walk through the kingdom, maybe not during a crisis for once.”
Mario let out a short huff. “We’ve been a little busy, in case you didn’t notice. There was the whole—” he gestured broadly "—everything situation and all that.”
“Sure,” Luigi said easily. “But things are calmer now.”
Mario glanced over his shoulder. “Relatively.”
“Relatively calm is still calm,” Luigi replied. “You could just… ask.”
Mario turned back to the pot, lowering the heat. “I’ll get to it eventually.”
Luigi smiled. “Eventually.”
“Yeah,” Mario said, grabbing a plate and starting to serve the spaghetti. “Eventually.”
Luigi gave Mario one last look—half amused, half I’m definitely not done with this conversation—before a knock came from the door.
“I’ll get it,” he said, pushing off the counter.
Mario nodded, perhaps a bit too quickly, focusing very hard on arranging the spaghetti.
Luigi opened the door.
Standing there, one hand resting casually on the frame as if he’d been there a while, was Fox McCloud.
“Hey,” Fox said, offering a small nod. “Hope I’m not early.”
Luigi smiled. “Not at all. Come in.”
Fox stepped inside, glancing around with quiet familiarity. He’d clearly been here enough times that he no longer looked like a visitor—just someone who hadn’t quite decided where home was yet.
“Smells good,” he added, nose twitching slightly.
From the kitchen, Mario called out, “It’s ready!”
Fox leaned slightly toward Luigi as he slipped off his gloves. “He always this intense about pasta?”
Luigi let out a quiet laugh. “You have no idea.”
They stepped into the kitchen together.
Mario looked up, brightening a little. “Fox, hey. Perfect timing.”
Fox gave a short approving nod toward the pot. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Mario slid a plate toward him. “Sit, sit. You’re just in time.”
Fox took the plate, eyeing it with genuine interest before sitting down. “You know, for a guy who spends half his time jumping across collapsing platforms, you’ve got surprisingly steady hands.”
Mario smirked. “It’s all about balance.”
Luigi sat across from them, watching the exchange with mild amusement.
Fox took a bite, paused, then nodded once. “Okay. That’s—yeah, that’s really good.”
Mario tried not to look too pleased and failed miserably.
“Told you,” Luigi said.
Fox leaned back slightly. “You ever think about expanding? I mean, you’ve got the branding already. Mario Brothers—easy transition. Food, service, the whole shebang.”
Mario snorted. “Yeah, I’ll add chef to the list right under hero and plumber."
Fox gave a small shrug. “Diversifying skill sets. It’s smart.”
Luigi grinned. “He’s got a point.”
Mario pointed his fork at him. “Don’t start.”
Fox glanced between them, sensing something just beneath the surface. “What’d I miss?”
Luigi didn’t hesitate. “We were just talking about how Mario definitely doesn’t have a crush on Princess Peach.”
Mario nearly dropped his fork. “Luigi.”
Fox raised an eyebrow, slowly turning toward Mario. “Oh?”
“There is no ‘oh,’” Mario said quickly. “There’s nothing. It’s been—” he gestured vaguely again “—proven.”
“Proven?”
“Proven that it's just a crush,” Mario added firmly.
There was a brief pause.
Fox leaned back, folding his arms, clearly evaluating this like a tactical problem. “So let me get this straight. You’ve gone on multiple high-risk missions together, trusted each other in combat, saved each other’s lives—”
“That’s called teamwork,” Mario cut in.
“—and your conclusion,” Fox continued smoothly, “is that there is somehow absolutely no emotional attachment between the two of you?"
Luigi pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh.
Mario frowned. “When you say it like that, it sounds—”
“Incomplete?” Fox offered.
“Wrong,” Mario shot back, though with noticeably less confidence.
Fox took another bite of pasta, unfazed. “In my experience, if you wait for the perfect moment, you miss the window entirely.”
Mario crossed his arms. “I said I’ll get to it.”
Luigi tilted his head. “Eventually.”
Fox nodded once. “Eventually’s a dangerous timeline."
Mario hadn’t meant to stay out.
That was the thing he told himself later, anyway.
It had started simple enough after all. Just a walk to clear his head after dinner. Luigi had turned in early, still wearing that look, specifically the one that said this isn’t over, and Mario had needed air. Fox had lingered just long enough at the door for it to be obvious he was thinking the same thing.
So they walked.
The Mushroom Kingdom at night was quieter than usual. Lanterns glowed softly along the paths, casting warm pools of light over cobblestone streets. A few Toads bustled about here and there, but for the most part, the world had settled.
Mario walked with his hands in his pockets and his gaze drifting ahead.
Beside him, Fox had that same easy, measured stride he always did, as though he were pacing himself for something even when there was nowhere to be.
“You always this wired after things calm down?” he asked.
Mario let out a short breath. “Yeah. It’s like… when everything stops, your brain finally catches up.”
Fox nodded once. “Fair. I get that.”
They walked a bit further in silence before a small building came into view with its warm light spilling out through its windows and low chatter drifting into the street.
Mario slowed slightly. “You ever been in there?”
Fox followed his gaze, then shook his head. “Can’t say I have.”
Mario hesitated for half a second. Then, with a small shrug, “Well… no time like the present, right?”
Inside, the place was cozy in a way that felt almost unfamiliar after everything they’d been through lately.
Mario and Fox found a table near the back. A Toad came by, and before long, drinks were set down in front of them.
Mario picked his up, turning it slightly in his hand.
Fox raised his with a cheerful enough toast. “To… not being in any immediate danger.”
Mario smirked, clinking his glass lightly against Fox’s. “I’ll drink to that.”
The first drink went down easy.
The second one even easier.
By the third, the stories started.
“—and I’m telling you,” Mario said, leaning forward slightly, “that platform was not stable. I don’t care what anyone says.”
“You jumped on it anyway.”
“I had to!” Mario threw his hands up. “Luigi was on the other side, and the whole thing was collapsing. What was I supposed to do... wait?”
Fox took a slow sip. “Assess the situation.”
“I did assess it,” Mario shot back. “And the assessment said to jump.”
Fox let out a quiet laugh. “That’s not an assessment. That’s a decision.”
“It was the correct decision,” Mario insisted.
Fox tilted his head. “You made it?”
Mario paused. “Eventually.”
“Dangerous timeline.”
Mario pointed at him. “Hey, don’t you start with that.”
Somewhere between stories about collapsing castles, malfunctioning Warp Pipes, and a very heated, possibly one-sided debate about whether or not a Blue Shell had any business having that kind of tracking accuracy, things got looser.
Easier.
“You ever miss it?” Mario asked at one point, quieter now, turning his glass slightly on the table. “Home, I mean. Your home.”
Fox didn’t answer immediately.
“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “But after so much time, you get used to moving. Different places, different people… mostly the same job.”
Mario nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
Fox glanced at him. “You?”
Mario huffed lightly. “I mean, Brooklyn’s… Brooklyn. Loud, messy, everything’s breaking all the time.”
“Sounds like home.”
“But this place,” Mario continued, glancing around the room, “it’s different. Feels like… I don’t know. Like something I didn’t use to know I was looking for.”
Fox watched him for a second.
Then, casually, “Peach helps with that?”
Mario froze for just a fraction of a second and then immediately reached for his drink. “We are not doing this again.”
Fox leaned back slightly. “Just asking.”
“There’s nothing to ask,” Mario said, a little too quickly. “It’s... we work well together. That’s it.”
Fox nodded slowly. “Right.”
Mario narrowed his eyes. “Don’t right me.”
“Hey. I said nothing.”
“That’s worse,” he muttered.
Another drink.
Another story.
Fox was halfway through recounting a near-miss dogfight. Something about a last-second maneuver that definitely sounded like it should not have worked when Mario interrupted him.
“Okay, but you went back, right?”
Fox blinked. “What?”
“You said you left," Mario said, gesturing. “But then you went back.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Fox shrugged, like it was obvious. “Because I wasn’t done.”
Mario sat back, considering that.
“Yeah."
Because I wasn’t done
Mario turned the words over in his head like they might mean something more if he looked at them from a different angle. He didn’t say anything, only taking another drink.
Then another.
At some point, the line between relaxed and loose blurred.
Mario was leaning back in his chair now, one arm slung over the backrest, whatever tension that existed from the day worn down into something softer and less guarded. His words came a fraction slower and just a touch heavier.
Fox, for his part, wasn’t much different. Still composed but his insufferably smug smirks came easier.
“You know,” Mario said, gesturing vaguely with his glass, “you talk a lot about assessment for a guy who boasts about flying directly into laser fire.”
Fox snorted. “It’s calculated laser fire.”
“That’s not a thing,” Mario said, shaking his head.
“It absolutely is,” he replied. “There’s a difference between reckless and—”
A pause came to him as he watched Mario very deliberately try to set his glass down, only to miss the table by a mile.
Fox reached out without thinking, guiding his hand and the glass to their correct spot.
Mario blinked at his hand in the paw of Fox’s and at the glass steadied on the table. “…I had that.”
“Mm,” Fox said. “Looked like it.”
He huffed, but didn’t pull his hand back right away.
For a second, neither of them did.
There was a lull.
A full, warm lull.
Fox’s attention drifted toward the front of the room where a piano sat, half in the shadow as though it had been waiting all night for someone to notice it.
He tilted his head slightly. “Huh.”
Mario followed his gaze, squinting. “What?”
Fox nodded toward it. “You play?”
Mario let out a short laugh. “What? No.”
“You hesitated.”
“I did not hesitate.”
"Okay you didn't hesitate, but," Fox stood, ignoring his enibriation entirely, “c'mon.”
Mario blinked. “Oh no. No, no, no. That's not happening.”
Fox glanced back at him. “You said no time like the present, right?”
“That was for walking into a bar, not,” Mario gestured toward the piano like it had personally offended him, “whatever that is.”
Fox just smirked, already heading toward it. “I’ll start. You can sit there and judge me if you want.”
Mario watched him go.
Then, after a second, he groaned, dragged a hand down his face, grabbed his drink and followed.
Fox slid onto the bench like he’d done it a hundred times before.
Mario hovered beside him. “You better not be terrible.”
He flexed his fingers once over the keys. “Guess we’ll find out.”
The first few notes were simple and measured before settling into something smoother, rounding out with low, rolling chords that filled the room without demanding attention.
Mario blinked, a little surprised. “Okay. That’s—”
He stopped and let out a short laugh despite himself.
"So bad it's funny?"
"No. It's good. Really, really good."
A few Toads glanced over. Someone murmured something appreciative. The attention of the room drifted slightly toward the sound.
Fox leaned in a fraction. “You sure you don’t play?”
Mario shook his head, but there was a faint smile tugging at his mouth and his mustache. “Not like that I don’t.”
“Then sing.”
“Absolutely not.”
Fox didn’t stop playing. “C’mon. You’ve been talking all night.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I’m good at talking,” Mario said.
Fox gave him a look and a grin. “Debatable.”
Mario scoffed. “Oh, that’s how it is?”
“Prove me wrong.”
He hesitated, looking between the piano, Fox and the small, curious audience that was definitely pretending not to watch now.
“One song,” he muttered.
Fox shifted slightly, making room. “That’s all I need.”
Mario sat and waited for Fox to adjust the tempo, just enough to give him something to latch onto.
The rhythm picked up.
Faster.
Warmer.
Something with a pulse.
Mario exhaled once and leaned in.
“Well now listen here, I ain’t no saint—
Just a plumber with a habit I can’t quite paint—
Jump too high, land too fast,
Fix the pipe but I don’t fix my past—”
Fox’s playing sharpened to match him and push him forward.
A grin broke across his face as he jumped in.
“Got a rocket with my name and a sky to chase,
Too many close calls I can’t erase—
Fly too hard, burn too bright,
Still turn around in the middle of a fight—”
Mario shot him a look which was half surprised, half impressed before laughing, actually laughing and leaning back into it.
Together now.
Louder and looser and all
"Oh we crash and we burn but we never stay down—
Kings without crowns in a mixed-up town—
Fire in the hands, stars in the sky—
Tell me, tell me, you ever wonder why?All that running, all that flame—
Still circle back to the ones who stay—
Say you’re done but you’re never through—
Yeah, guess that makes two—”
The tempo kicked
“Goodness, gracious—hold on tight—
World’s on fire and it feels just right—
Spin that wheel, take that fall—
We’re lighting up the night, we’re risking it all—!”
By the end, they were both laughing through the last line, their voices a little rough, timing a little off, but neither of them caring in the slightest.
Fox hit the final chord with a hard flourish and then leaned back, catching his breath. “Not bad.”
Mario let out a breathless laugh. “Not bad?”
Fox shrugged. “You kept up.”
Mario nudged him with his shoulder. “I carried that.”
“Debatable.”
They sat there closely for a second longer than necessary, still riding the energy their high.
Then Mario cleared his throat, standing a little unsteadily. “Okay. That’s— that’s enough of that.”
Fox stood too, just as steady, or not. “Yeah. Probably.”
Mario stepped away and misjudged the distance slightly.
Fox caught his arm without thinking.
Mario blinked at him.
Fox didn’t let go immediately. “Careful,” he said, a little quieter now.
Neither of them moved right away.
Mario rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away. “We should, uh… probably head back soon.”
Fox nodded once. “Yeah. Eventually.”
Mario huffed out a laugh.
“Yeah,” he said. "... eventually."