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It was the holidays again in LazyTown and that meant one thing.
Silly holiday photos.
It had become a tradition sometime after one of Robbie’s schemes—He’d dressed up as Santa to try and convince the kids to spend a quiet day inside in front of the fire (and also to nab all of their carefully made holiday cookies.) In the resulting scuffle between himself and Sportacus, Robbie had lost his fake beard and Sport had lost his hat. The kids had immediately mobbed the hero (“are those your REAL ears?”) and all concern about the villain’s dastardly plot was lost to the excitement. It was the perfect out and all he had to do was slink out of town hall in the chaos, but he found himself incapable of moving.
Sportacus was like a deer caught in headlights, looking for all the world like he wished a hunter would put him out of his misery. His eyes were wide and panicked and Robbie could feel how much the elf wished he could just cover his ears and pretend this never happened. In a split second he made a decision that, looking back on, he should have regretted. He could have been rid of the overactive kangaroo! But no, he had to go and be decent.
“Of COURSE those aren’t his real ears,” he sneered, laughing like it was something the kids should have realized right off. He pointedly ignored the shocked look on Sportacus’s face. “SportaLOSER was just playing along since Santa was going to be late to LazyTown this year and he didn’t want you to be disappointed. He’s a terrible actor though, so he asked me to help out.” He pulled himself to his full height, putting on his very best narcissistic face in order to fully convince the children. He knew he was going to be in a lot of trouble later if Santa showed up early enough to see the kids, but he’d burn that bridge if he came to it. In the mean time, he had to seal the deal. “I didn’t want to be Santa all by myself, so Sportanice here said he’d dress up like an elf. The ears are fake and glued on.” Robbie wondered absently if the kids would be suspicious of Sport’s audible sigh of relief, but they didn’t seem to notice it.
“Wow Robbie, that’s really nice of you!” It was the pink girl, whose name escaped him. Stacie? Stevie? No, Stephanie. Maybe that was it. He didn’t have time to make sure though because he was suddenly mobbed by all the children who were hugging him around the middle hard enough to squeeze the breath out of him. The cacophony of voices didn’t help.
“Did you bring us presents then?”
“Did you like the cookies that I made?”
“Does that mean you’re going to stay and play with us?”
He grit his teeth, frozen in place. How was he supposed to answer any of those? He started to open his mouth to respond when Sportacus answered in his place. “No kids, Santa will still bring presents later tonight when you’re all in bed. I’m sure he liked the cookies just fine. Maybe you all could let him breathe?” All at once the children let go and backed away from him, though their bright grinning faces were still staring up at him expectantly.
“What?” he snapped, feeling about what he’d imagine a cornered animal would feel like. He was starting to regret the lie.
“Are you going to stay and play with us?” That was the computer boy. Pixie. Pixel?
At first he wanted to shout no, of course not, why would I want to play with a bunch of BRATS, but the way they all stared at him with their big bright grins and the way they all seemed to hold their breath in anticipation, he couldn’t say no. “Oh, alright.” He was slightly more prepared for the mobbing the second time, but he wasn’t prepared for the look that Sportacus gave him. He thought it looked something like gratitude. Awful.
They had played board games, and did crafts, and sang songs, and even danced all night long. He wanted to be angry about it, but in the end they’d shared a traditional winter cake and presents with him and honestly he was so touched that they even invited him that he couldn’t stay mad. Right before the party ended, they’d insisted that he be in the group photo, his Santa costume replaced with the frankly hideous sweater that one of the kids (Ziggy? He was really getting the hang of their strange names) had made him and the pair of giant feathered sunglasses he’d gotten from Trixie. He didn’t think he’d ever been so happy in his life.
After that, the children had shuffled off back to their homes, happy and filled with cake and holiday cheer. Robbie had started to do the same when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, holding him back.
“Wait, Robbie.” Of course it was the (now confirmed) elf. He turned, ready for the chiding of a life time, his shoulders instinctively hunched. Instead, he was met with the hero’s wide grin. “Thanks for earlier. You didn’t have to do that, it was really nice of you.”
Robbie flushed and looked away, lips pulled into a grimace. “Yeah, well, do a better job of hiding it will you? I won’t always be there to save the day. Not all heroes have a noisy crystal you know.” He folded his arms as if to make a point about how huffy he was. Sportacus only laughed, and the sound drew Robbie’s attention back to where it was. He tried not to focus too hard on the elf’s cheery grin or the frankly obscene sparkle in his eyes.
“Of course Robbie, I will do my best to be more careful in the future.” If he was perturbed by the blush consuming Robbie’s face or the way he nervously wrung his hands, Sport didn’t say anything. Instead, he held out a small package, wiggling it gently until the villain took it. “It’s not much, but happy holidays. Have a good night!” With that, the elf back flipped away, yelling ‘ladder!’ as he went.
Once he got home Robbie ripped the package open to find a jar of lemon curd (he was conflicted; on one hand, it was made with sports candy, gross but on the other hand it was mostly sugar and butter. In the end, he put it in the fridge and ate it by the spoonful on quiet days at home), a handful of cookies Sportacus must have gotten from the kids (he’s been here for YEARS don’t they know yet that he can’t eat sugar?), and a very nice maroon scarf. The villain was near tears with how touched he was, and also consumed with a nagging sense of guilt. He didn’t give the children anything (aside from a couple of tacky crafts at the party) and didn’t plan on anything for Sportaloon at all.
In the confines of his lair, he swore two things from that point on. Holidays were scheme-time off limits, and he’d never show up to a party empty handed again. He tried not to question his intent to go to more parties.
That had been three years ago, and it was the start of a new tradition. The next year, Robbie hadn’t even bothered with the Santa costume, instead wearing the ugly sweater from the first holiday party. Ziggy had been delighted to see Robbie still had the old thing, but Stingy had poked fun. “Don’t you have any OTHER ugly sweaters? I of course have at LEAST ten.”
Any grin Robbie had been wearing immediately fell from his face as he fixed a glare at the boy in front of him. “Why, no, I don’t. Should I?”
Stephanie had intervened then before things could get any worse. “Some people like them. Hey, I have an idea! Why don’t we all go and try to find the silliest outfits for our group photo this year? It’ll be fun!” Of course there was a resounding chorus of agreement, followed by one small voice in the back.
“Yeah, but where will we get our silly outfits?”
For the first time, Stephanie seemed to be at a loss for words. “Well… Maybe we could make them?”
“I don’t think we have enough time to make anything REALLY silly though.”
“I guess you’re right. Maybe it was a bad idea…”
Robbie couldn’t stand the sight of her crestfallen face, and before she could call the idea off he made his second impulsive holiday decision. “We’ll go to the stores in town and find something.” Before he could stop himself, he pulled out his coin purse that was stuffed with a few gold coins and passed them out between the children. “Consider this a lesson in thrifty spending. Everyone gets the same amount of money to buy something SPECTACULARLY hideous. The uglier the better, and we’ll come back and show off our ugly outfits and take a picture together before dinner. And no Stingy, you cannot just keep the money for your piggy bank, no matter how hungry it is. Now shoo! You’ve only got,” he pulled out his oversized pocket watch and squinted at it for emphasis, “…two hours! Better hurry.”
In a flash all the children bolted out of town hall and to the line of stores, shrieking with glee at the prospect of their really awful holiday picture. He huffed out a breath at their retreating backs, his lips upturned into a smile, as he pulled a few more coins from his purse.
“Robbie! What a great idea, I just know that this will be a lot of fun for the children! Thank you!” Sportacus’s fists were planted firmly into his hips and Robbie couldn’t help but scoff at the ridiculous man.
“Oh, don’t get too complacent Sportadork. This is a competition.” And besides, I forgot gifts for you and the kids and maybe this will make up for it. He kept that part to himself as he shoved the extra coins into Sportacus’s hands, grinning wider at the confused look he got. “That means you too. You’ll never find ANYTHING as HIDEOUS as I will though, so don’t work yourself too hard.” He thumped the hero on the back before pulling his hand back and wincing (I won’t be trying THAT again anytime soon) and strolled off to the local thrift stores, on the lookout for the worst outfit imaginable.
After that day, the Thrift Store Games became a staple for the ragtag group of kids and nemesis. They’d find the grossest, tackiest, most mismatched group of clothes and accessories that they could, meet back up at Town Hall, and compete for who was The Worst. The first year, Trixie won with her outdated New Years glasses, the Hawaiian shirt that was two sizes too big, and the frankly impressively awful pair of bunny slippers that she had decorated with two doll sized Santa hats. Once the picture was snapped, they ate their dinner, laughing about each other’s terrible outfits and swearing they had to do it again the next year, thanking Robbie profusely for the money to play. Sportacus waited for Robbie after the party and handed him yet another gift; a nice new sewing kit and a box of fancy truffles. Robbie was too dumbstruck to tell the elf that he didn’t have to give him anything and missed his chance when he cart wheeled away.
The next year, they were prepared. The kids had made a large cardboard crown and sash to go to the winner, proudly emblazoned across the front “LT’s Ugliest Outfit”. The desire to win had tripled across the board, everyone practically drooling at the opportunity to wear the winner’s regalia for their annual photo. Again, Robbie handed out the shiny coins he’d saved up for the occasion, winking at Trixie as she got her cash.
“You were good last year, but this year you’re going down” he snarked with an astounding amount of confidence considering he was competing against children who didn’t have a shred of fashion sense to start with. “I’ve got a good feeling about my chances.”
“Oh please, I could dress worse than you any day of the week.”
He got down on her level and grinned, a wicked glint in his eye. “I don’t think that’s something you should brag about Loud Girl.”
At first she seemed taken aback, nervous, and then she cackled. “Okay old man. See you in two hours!” She sprinted off with the coins as Robbie straightened back up.
“You know, you’re really good with them! I think you’d have a lot of fun if you stopped being so cranky and spent more time playing with us! They like you a lot Robbie.” Sportacus was always quick to point out Robbie’s virtues, hoping maybe one day he’d change his ways. He didn’t expect too much, but it didn’t hurt to try.
Robbie, in turn, snorted. “Yeah yeah, Sportakook, but what’s the fun in that? Besides, activity? EXERCISE?” He held out the coins for the hero, waving his other hand absently. “Honestly, it’s like you don’t know me at all.”
“Well,” Sportacus started, leaning in conspiratorially and a cheeky grin on his face, “I might know you a bit better if you spent more time playing with us and less time trying to run me out of town.” He barked out a laugh when Robbie jumped back, aghast.
“Fair point, Sportadweeb. But seriously, have you ever considered being a villain? You might be good at it. You’ve certainly got a hidden mean streak in you,” he sniffed. Sportacus only laughed again.
“I’ll see you at the party, Robbie. When I’m wearing my crown!” At that, he back flipped away from the villain, leaving him shocked and spluttering in his wake.
“In your dreams, Sportaloon! That crown is mine!” He pointedly ignored Stingy’s echo from the distance.
In the end, neither of them won the crown. It went to Pixel and his too-tall white cowboy hat and rainbow faux fur vest. That year, he stood triumphantly between the two adults, crown haphazardly tipped to the side on top of the hat, sash practically lost in fake neon fur, grinning so wide it seemed like his face might split. Sure, he probably cheated by looking at online inventory, but if so, Robbie wasn’t even mad. Pixel looked ridiculous and his excitement was infectious.
When the party was over, Robbie was ready for Sportacus and his now annual gift. “You know you don’t have to do that.”
Sportacus held the gift out to Robbie, a smart looking gift bag in blue and white with a sharp black bow. “Do what?”
Robbie snatched the gift and winced at his own eagerness. “Get me anything. You don’t have to. I mean, I never get you anything! Is it a hero thing? Some kind of mandatory hero complex ‘get the villain a gift and maybe he’ll be nicer’ ploy?”
Sportacus stared at him wide eyed and lost for a moment before his face split into a grin. Robbie would have to examine later why exactly the small action caused his stomach to flip and flop like it was trying to emulate the blue menace before him. “But Robbie, you always pay for everyone to go to the thrift store and play this game!”
“Well yeah, but how are a bunch of kids and a superhero supposed to pay for thrift store finds? Do you even get paid?” He pawed at the gift for a second and narrowed his eyes at the hero. “How did you pay for this? Maybe you’re more villain then you let on! Besides, you still don’t have to get me anything just because I pass out a few bucks to the brats.”
To his credit, Sportacus looked absolutely offended at Robbie’s insinuation. “I did a few odd jobs for the Mayor for some spending money! I would never…” it was around then he realized Robbie was holding in a cackle, his cheeks puffed out and eyes bright. When Robbie saw that he saw, he practically howled with glee. Sportacus crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, but smiled anyways. “Anyway, it’s nice to get gifts for the people you care about!”
The laughter immediately got caught in Robbie’s throat, turning into an indignant splutter at the end as he stared at Sportacus, dumbstruck. “Care…?”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence before Sport was checking his watch, brows furrowed. “Sorry Robbie, it’s almost bed time! It was nice talking to you though!” At that he sprinted off, leaving Robbie to snap up his dropped jaw on his own.
That year the elf had gotten him a jar of obscenely nice apple butter, a nice new blanket, and an entire jar of butterflies dumped directly into his belly.
When it came right down to it though, Robbie was excellent at “avoid your feelings and examine nothing,” so the latter gift was shoved away for further examination later. (Or Never, he thought as he snuggled into his new fleece blanket. Never is good too. In fact, it’s perfect.)
And if he had been a little nicer that year, or toned down the attempts to ferry the elf out of town, it was certainly not because he might actually like the flip flopping buffoon.
This year, he was prepared. More than prepared even. He’d spent most of his not sleeping, not scheming free time working on a gift for Sportacus. He was determined to not be outdone again this year. What kind of villain would he be if he allowed the blue kangaroo to one up him four years in a row? Not a very good one, he thought. As he put the finishing touches on the peacock blue suit, he beamed with pride. It was one of his better works, and there was something to be said about making something with persistence and hard work. Not that he’d ever say it.
He carefully folded the suit and put it in a box along with a couple of very nice dragon fruit and wrapped it with some patchy orange paper he found buried in a drawer he never used before slapping the same sharp black bow that he had gotten last year on top. He only had a couple minutes to marvel at his work before he was off to Town Hall for this year’s holiday party.
The rules were laid out same as the years before; find the ugliest things you could with the money you were given, ugliest costume got the Worst Outfit regalia. He was determined to win this year, maybe more so than he had been in the past. He had considered, on more than one occasion, to just steal the sash and crown. In the end, he always convinced himself not to. (Don’t want those brats crying the whole time. It has nothing to do with wanting to win fair and square, or not disappointing the kids. No. Never. Just don’t want to listen to them whine.)
“Good luck Robbie!” As always, the sports elf had to wish him well before taking off himself.
“I don’t need it, Sportajerk! I’m gonna win this year for sure.”
Sportacus ran backwards, grinning the whole time. “That’s what you said last year!” Before Robbie could retort, he flipped away, laughing the whole time.
The villain sniffed divisively, convincing himself that no, he was not impressed, only assured of his own victory.
And oh, how certain he would win he was. It seemed this year that the cards were all in his favour when he got to the first thrift store and found the most hideous skirt he’d ever seen. It looked like it was made out of every ugly grandma quilt that he had ever seen, and it was perfect. He just needed the perfect, awful, accessory to go with it. That’s when he spotted it; a Christmas tree themed hat, complete with little baubles and battery powered LEDs. He could feel a tear spring to his eye when he saw it, and that sealed the deal. If it was so ugly it made him CRY then it was SURE to be a winner.
He paid for the items and left, the strut in his step at LEAST a mile wide at his impending victory. He was already rehearsing his victory speech in his head when he first heard it; the wheezing, whining cry of a very distressed child. He recognized it as Ziggy immediately, and ran to his side as quick as he could.
“What’s wrong candy kid?” Deep down he saw himself in all the kids, and while he’d never admit it out loud, he cared about them and wanted them to be happy. Just… Quietly happy.
Ziggy’s cries quieted down to whimpers, and then to sniffles when he saw the villain. “Oh Robbie, I was blowing a bubble gum bubble and it popped!” He wailed again and scrubbed at his eyes. Robbie gave him a minute to regain his composure before waving him on. “I’ve gotten bubble gum all over my holiday outfit!”
Robbie patted Ziggy on the back awkwardly, wondering if and when Sportacus was going to show up. Isn’t this touchy feely helpful stuff more his realm? Shouldn’t his crystal be going off? When he realized the elf wasn’t coming, he huffed out a sigh. “Well, let me see it.” He took the outfit from the kid, wincing at the very sparkly elvis jacket half covered in sticky gum. If it hadn’t been destroyed, it would have been a real contender. “There’s no saving it. Maybe we can find you something else…?” He pulled his pocket watch and frowned. They only had a half hour before the agreed meet up time; certainly not enough time for another trip to the thrift store. Robbie breathed heavily out his nose and made yet another rash holiday decision. He made a mental note to slap himself when he got home. “Here, you can have mine.”
Ziggy looked up at him, his eyes wet and large. “Really? But then you won’t win!”
“Yeah well, just take it before I change my mind. There’s no way this can lose. We’ll get you a belt or something so the skirt fits.” He shoved the bag into Ziggy’s chest and stood up, his back cracking in protest before he helped the child to his feet.
“That’s the other part of my costume!” Ziggy pulled a down-right repulsive fake wrestling belt out of the bag he had been holding.
“There. It’s perfect, and you’ll never ever hear me say that about something so horrible ever again. Go on now, and get yourself dressed up for the contest.” He was prepared for the kid to run off, or maybe even thank him. He was not prepared for him to hug him as hard as a little kid could possibly hug another person.
“Oh, thank you Robbie! You’re the best!” With that, he ran off as fast as his little legs could carry him, ready to wow the crowd with his gruesome attire. Robbie watched him leave, the affection on his face open, even if only a little bit.
“Why Robbie Rotten, is that sentiment on your face?” There was a hint of laughter in Stephanie’s voice and he was embarrassed to admit that he literally tried to wipe his face before realizing she was poking fun at him for being nice. He turned to tell her exactly what he thought of her and stopped dead when he saw both her and Sportacus.
“I have never been sentimental in my life and you both know it,” he sneered. “I just couldn’t bring myself to wear that ugly thing, that’s all. When did you even get here? Shouldn’t YOU be helping the kid in distress?”
“We got here a minute or two after you did, when my crystal went off. I didn’t want to interrupt you! But what will you wear for the picture? You’re the one who started this tradition after all.” Sportacus seemed legitimately concerned and Robbie found himself with the unnatural desire to make him feel better. He was going to have to take a vacation for at least a week once this was all over to make up for the emotional exhaustion.
“It’s nothing, Sportaflop. I’ll just… I don’t know. I still have the sweater.” He tried not to dwell on the disappointment when he realized there was no way he was winning the crown this year.
Stephanie crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Robbie, and for a second he felt like he’d said the wrong thing and that she was two seconds from accusing him of actively trying to sabotage the party. Before he could break out into a cold sweat, her face lit up in a devious kind of glee that he was both terrified and proud of. She was going to be a force to reckon with when she got older, he thought. “I’ve got an idea! Here.” She pulled probably the silliest oversized bow tie he’d ever seen out of her little bag and passed it to him. “I couldn’t decide between the bowtie and this ugly hat, so you can have the tie.”
“Th…Tha…Th…” he tried to force the word, but she cut him off.
“—And you and Sportacus should switch pants. That would be the FUNNIEST thing. Then we’ll all have a silly outfit!” She was a perfect emulation of Sportacus, her fists on her hips and her big wide grin like she’d figured out the entire world. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he was impressed. And embarrassed. And maybe a little concerned.
“And how exactly do you think that’ll work? Do you really think Sportafool wants to—“ he looked at Sportacus, ready for backup, but instead he found consideration. “Oh, not you too! These are custom tailored, you can’t possibly think you’d fit…!”
As it turned out, they fit just fine. Sportacus cinched the belt tight under his armpits, his blue jacket tucked into the hem and his crystal clipped on to the belt buckle. He had to roll the pant legs up a few inches to keep them from dragging in the muddy snow. Robbie, on the other hand, was trying very hard not to spend too much time thinking of how low Sportacus’s pants slung on his hips and how he showed leg all the way to mid-calf. The only thing that kept him half way decent was his insistence that his blue under shirt was extra long to prevent it from riding up, otherwise he’d be showing off an obscene amount of midriff.
“You know, I HAVE a full sized version of your little costume at home. I COULD have just worn some pants that fit.” Robbie still wasn’t sure how he ended up in this situation, but he thought that the pink girl might also have some latent magic powers that shouldn’t be trifled with. He had to admit though, Sportacus looked absolutely absurd his blue jacket and Robbie’s striped pants.
“Yes, but that wouldn’t have been as funny!” Sport looked for all the world like a kid with a brand new toy and Robbie couldn’t bring himself to be upset. The elf was right of course.
“Alright Sportaflip, let’s go get our picture taken.”
It was almost unanimous. The combination of the wrestling belt, the way too long skirt, and the tacky tree hat was a combination that just couldn’t be beat, and Ziggy was crowned the rightful winner of the annual holiday party. The cheering was so loud that Robbie thought his ear drums might implode and that would be the end of his hearing, but he couldn’t stop grinning either. And, if he found himself high fiving the tiny king, who was to say it wasn’t because he’d been the one to pick out most of the outfit?
Which wasn’t to say that Ziggy was the only one to turn heads. The children had all squealed with laughter when Sportacus and Robbie walked in, the very picture of ridiculousness that had become the hallmark of their winter party. Their cheer, as always, was infectious and even HE had to admit that Sportacus was a sight to see with his belt fixed all the way up to his chin. Robbie couldn’t help but wonder if Sportacus’s crystal went off, if the light wouldn’t flicker out his eyes and mouth like the world’s worst organic lighthouse. It was a funny thought.
All too soon, dinner was over, crafts had been made, and it was time for the kids to go home and get in bed before Santa arrived with their gifts. The fever pitch of excitement had dulled down to a quiet roar as they packed up their drawings and friendship bracelets and started heading towards home. This year, Robbie waited for Sportacus right outside the door instead of stalking off towards home. Sportacus seemed thrilled.
“Robbie! Today was a lot of fun.” As had become tradition, he held out the package for Robbie to take, a box this year. Before Robbie grabbed it from him, he held out his own box for Sportacus to take, who seemed genuinely taken aback. “Is this for me?”
“No, I’m just handing the package with your name on it to you so you can give it to Bessie for me of course it’s for you.” He took the package from Sportacus and decided maybe it’d be okay if he opened it there instead of at home in his chair. He balled the paper up and shot it into the nearby garbage can. Wouldn’t want Sportanerd to get mad at him for littering. Inside was a box of chocolate covered strawberries and a very nice looking pair of noise cancelling headphones, and he worked very hard to suck back up the tears welling in his eyes. He was prepared to blame the cold wind, but Sportacus didn’t say a thing.
The elf it seemed had the same idea as he had and immediately started ripping the paper off. “Robbie… Did you make this?”
The sincerity in his voice almost made Robbie’s throat close. He would have blamed that on the cold wind too if pressed. “Yes. Do you even own anything other than your hero clothes? Do you even wash that outfit? You needed something different. Nicer. In case you need something for a nice occasion, as though one NEEDS an excuse to wear a nice suit.” He savored the swelling of pride in his chest as Sportacus ran his hand over the wool reverently, as though he’d given him precious gems or the entire world in a box.
“This is… Really nice. And very thoughtful! You must have spent a lot of time making it, thank you! And are these dragon fruit? I’m so excited to try them! You must have broken out in hives buying them since you seem to be allergic to health.”
Robbie had been working very hard to quell the blush rising to his ears up until that last line. He squawked indignantly. “Says the man who keeps adding the healthiest junk food possible to my gifts. How many times did you go into a sugar meltdown just LOOKING at my presents? And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, added chocolate covered sports candy to the fray.” He waggled a finger accusingly at Sportacus, who only laughed.
“You’ve got me there Robbie. But you liked the gifts, right?”
“I’ll admit, I finished last year’s apple butter in less than a week.” He grinned inwardly at the horrified look Sportacus gave him. “What? That’s the fastest I’ve ever eaten anything apple in my life. You should be honored that I even ate it.”
Robbie could see how much it pained Sportacus to concede that point. It WAS better than cake, after all. “Yes, I suppose. Well, Robbie. Thank you again for this beautiful suit. I can’t wait to try it on and see if it fits! I should go do that now, before I get too sleepy.”
“Sportacus, wait.” His fourth holiday decision and he was starting to wonder what kind of villain he was even shaping up to be. To his credit, Sportacus looked startled at the combination of his name and Robbie grabbing his arm. “Maybe you’d like to try it on in the lair? I haven’t seen it on you yet, and I need to know if I need to make adjustments. Besides,” he added quickly before he lost his nerve at the way Sportacus seemed to be tearing up a bit. “You still have my pants. We should trade back.”
For a second, Sportacus didn’t answer and Robbie squirmed in place a little, feeling awkward and embarrassed at his impulsive invitation. Before he could take it back, Sportacus spoke. “Robbie… You said my name… I don’t think you’ve ever said it before!” His head was cocked to the side and his lips were pinched into a weirdly happy expression and Robbie wasn’t sure that the elf wasn’t going to start crying on him. It didn’t help the awkwardness.
“Uh…yes. I suppose I did.” He looked away, his cheeks puffed up and arms crossed in what was probably a petulant pout, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “So, are you coming or not?”
“Of course Robbie! I’d be delighted.”
Out of all the ways he expected the hero to rush towards his home, he never would have guessed that it’d be walking on his hands and personally invited.
There was a first time for everything, he supposed.