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Branzy doesn't quite know when the feeling started. Or, more accurately, he wasn't sure when he started to become aware of it.
Maybe it was when he became more familiar with the people here, when they started exchanging more casual touches with him more frequently. Handshakes, hands on his shoulder, the occasional pat on the back. Maybe it was when he started making actual friends and connections outside of his friendship with Rekrap.
Maybe it was when he started getting closer to Clown.
Yeah, probably at some point after that. When he started to realize Clown's touches were less threats and more... casual. When the hand Clown would rest on his shoulder shifted from threatening to friendly, when the pats on the head turned from condescending to genuine, when the way Clown would just stand in his personal space went from menacing to familiar.
Yeah, it was probably then that he became aware of the feeling.
It was... strange. Some sort of hollowness and aching in his chest, a feeling of discomfort from being in his own body. The want to just- be crushed by someone for an extended period of time. He wasn't really sure what to do about it, especially when the feeling was strongest when he was around Clown. As close as the two were getting, he wasn't sure how Clown would react to Branzy randomly asking "hey, can you give me a bone-crushing hug and just hold me like that for a while? Thanks."
But he wanted to. He really, really wanted to. Especially when Clown was already standing in his personal space, when Clown's hand would linger on his back or shoulder. Any time the two brushed against each other, every time they grabbed the other's hand, Branzy wanted to reach out and hug the assassin as tightly as he could, and for the assassin to return the favor.
The worst part was that sometimes Clown would do it, entirely unprompted! With very little time for Branzy to prepare himself before it happened! But the hug never lasted long enough, only a couple seconds before Clown was pulling away again and Branzy had to use all his self control to not whine and beg for him to come back and do it again. It was getting torturous, and Branzy was half convinced the jester was doing it on purpose. He wouldn't be surprised if he was, in all honesty.
But here they were, yet again. Alone, Branzy working on redstone while Clown was sitting idly by, sharpening and cleaning one of his daggers.
Branzy doesn't know what it was about that day specifically. He had just felt sort of off ever since he woke up, and not even the familiar task of working on redstone seemed to be pulling him back to himself. He kept zoning out, kept losing track of what he was doing and losing his focus. When Clown showed up, that hollowness and aching in his chest felt stronger than ever. Branzy could hardly take it, constantly daydreaming about how nice it would be to just be held by Clown for a while.
It was after he, once again, caught himself staring at his redstone without actually doing anything that he huffed out a sigh.
"I wanna be crushed," he stated simply. A few moments of silence passed before the assassin behind him spoke up.
"You wanna be crushed?" he asked. Branzy didn't have the brain power to pick out what emotions were in his tone.
"Yes."
"Are we talking by like... a machine or under a pile of rocks or something? Or by a person?"
"A person," Branzy responded, before frowning and finally turning to look at Clown. Clown was putting his dagger and sharpening tools down, before standing up. "Why would I want to be crushed under a pile of rocks?"
"I don't know, Branzy Craft. You're into some pretty weird stuff, so I had to make sure," Clown said, casually walking closer to the redstoner. Branzy felt a twinge of hope in his chest, but pushed it down for now.
"I don't think you're one to talk," Branzy shot back, shifting slightly to face the approaching assassin more directly. He did his best to keep his expression calm and neutral, to not give away just how badly he wanted Clown to crush him right now.
"I dunno, Branzy. I feel like you're into a lot weirder things than me," Clown replied, stopping a couple feet away from Branzy. "Now, when you say you wanna be crushed by someone, what exactly does that mean?"
Branzy bit his tongue and looked away, trying to think about how best to explain it in a way that hopefully wouldn't get his request rejected.
"To be squeezed to the point I almost can't breathe and just be held like that for... uh, a while, probably," he explained, still unable to look back up at the jester. Clown chuckled.
"See? Weird," Branzy's eyes snapped back to the assassin when he started moving again, taking a couple steps closer to him before reaching his hand out in an invitation to help him stand. Branzy stared at the outstretched hand, hope growing in his chest, before finally taking it and letting himself be pulled up.
Branzy was going to say something, he thinks, maybe tell Clown he should try it himself before he calls it weird or- or something, but he didn't get the chance to. The moment he was standing, Clown pulled him into his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around his middle, squeezing him. Branzy gasped at the action, heart stuttering in his chest as warmth seeped through his chest.
"You mean something like this?" Clown murmured into his ear, and god Branzy couldn't stop the shiver that coursed through him even if he wanted to. Instead of a verbal response, Branzy just melted into the embrace, willing his own arms to wrap around the taller man and squeeze him back.
He could still breathe, it didn't hurt, but it was definitely the only thing he could focus on at the moment. The pressure was more than nice; it was grounding, it was comforting, it was- it was better than he thought it would be, honestly. It was easy to relax into the embrace, to focus on how tightly he was being pressed against Clown, to take in his familiar scent and warmth and be forced to actually focus on it. It was kinda therapeutic.
At some point, he became aware of Clown subtly swaying them around. Not enough to threaten their balance, but enough that it was noticeable. Branzy wasn't sure why he was, but it wasn't bothering him, so he made no attempts to stop him. He also realized he had closed his eyes at some point, but wasn't feeling especially motivated to open them, so he didn't.
It was like he could feel his mind being calmed down, like he could feel his mind slowly being pulled back into himself. He felt aware of his body, for once. Aware of the feeling of Clown's outfit against his face, the mask pressed into his scalp, the solid ground beneath his feet, the cool air on his exposed forearms. He basked in the warmth Clown radiated, and was aware of how cool his legs felt in comparison.
God, why didn't he ask for this sooner?
"So weird, Branzy Craft," Clown whispered. Branzy huffed.
"Technically, I didn't ask you to do this, you did this on your own. I think that makes you just as weird," he muttered. He could feel the way Clown's chest shook as he chuckled.
"I guess it does," he hummed.
Branzy smiled. For the first time in forever, he felt content in his own skin. He was comfortable and relaxed, and found himself speaking before he could possibly overthink his question.
"Can this become a regular thing?"
"Getting greedy now, are we?" Clown teased. Branzy, surprisingly, didn't get even slightly anxious at the question, which was unusual when talking to Clown. Instead, his smile morphed into a small grin.
"Yes, I am. Please?"
Clown let out a dramatic sigh. "You're really giving me no choice here, are you?"
"I will give you however many cuddles you want if you say yes."
Clown's breath hitched and his grip tightened even more.
"Deal."