Work Text:
June 1989
Mike had to pay his dues at Mythopolis before he could be promoted to jouster. In his current position, he walked the floor in an awkward dragon costume with disproportionate wings, knocking kids over with his heavy tail. The dragon’s mouth was permanently open as Mike’s dark porthole to the world, just behind the tongue.
Will knew Mike wasn’t allowed to talk or take his head off while on duty, and that just made visiting him all the more fun.
When Mike saw him leaning casually in the golden glow of the ticket redemption counter, he turned with a jump and knocked a kid over as he stomped towards the light.
“Hi, I’m not sure if you can help me,” Will said cheekily. “I’m looking to deliver lunch to a…Kraktor the Incinerator?”
Mike looked around and pointed at himself with a shrug.
“Are you sure? You look like more of a Kraktor the Delicate Protein Searer.”
Mike folded his green arms and tapped his foot.
“Ah, who am I to judge?” He handed him a brown paper bag. “Homemade stromboli. Made by me actually, not mom. She doesn't make them shaped like shields.”
Mike looked in the bag through the dragon’s mouth and was frozen like that for a moment. He touched his plush green cheek, then pumped his hand out from his heart.
Will’s face flushed. “Shit, that’s cute. Maybe you are an incinerator.”
Mike fanned himself with a green claw and could tell Will was getting flustered.
Will looked at his watch. “How about that. It’s time for your break….ok-don’t-ask-why-this-is doing-it-for-me-and-just-meet me-in-the-boiler-room-please and-thanks,” he mumbled without stopping to breathe.
Mike struggled to fit his wings and tail through the boiler room door as he dragged him in. Will pulled his head up and off like a veil and kissed him, pressing up against his soft scales as Mike almost toppled over. “Wow, okay. This—is happening! I should be the one thanking you for the like, sweet gesture—“
“You can eat in a minute, I just had to do this. You’re so cute when you’re a dragon mime.”
“Oh. Should I be quiet now too?”
“You can try,” Will panted, peppering his face with kisses and latching hard onto his lips.
“Mmh—Will—? Are you harboring a secret attraction to sports mascots?”
“Uh, no?”
“This is like a—a weird fever dream,” Mike managed between kisses. “You can call me Kraktor if you want.”
“Again, no,” Will grinned. “But I’ll admit, I’m jealous of this costume. I wish I could just zip up around you like this.”
“Me too. I want you to be sweaty inside me.”
It flew right over his head how delightfully bad that sounded. Will sighed.
“Push me against the chamber door, dragon tamer.”
“Your tail’s getting in the way,” he laughed, deepening the kiss. “God, if I’m this gone for you as a dragon, wait until you’re jousting.”
“I won’t be able to set foot in this place again without thinking about this.”
“That’s the idea.”