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captainschaos · 2 months

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ran late on this, but my last and biggest writing for @mcyt-aro-week! day 6: coming out / found family & day 7: free day!

just some really fun fluffy writing for the big ol polycule of a household I like to rotate in my head, a bunch of aromantics, queerplatonics, and family <3 really a very self indulgent writing but truly that's gotta be the point of it all yayyy ^_^ (includes joel, lizzie, cleo, bdubs, etho, and tango btw)

[ao3 link] words: 3002

(I'm also including a longer pronoun reference for this one since I use a lot of funky ones. like I said this piece is self indulgent LOL) Lizzie: she/her Bdubs: she/he Tango: he/it Cleo: she/they/rot Etho: he/she Joel: she/he

-/-/-

Lizzie felt quite lucky to have such a splendid garden behind the house. Full of life and fresh fragrances, light and color, it was truly an environment with instantaneous spirit-lifting effects. And even better- she’d built that!

Well, not exactly. She can’t take all the credit.

“What’s all this!” Bdubs exclaimed.

“Hm?” Lizzie peeked around the corner from the garden bed she’d been working in, and spotted Bdubs at the bed over. She was biting his lip, frowning down at the leaves he was inspecting.

Lizzie stood and made her way over to look over Bdubs’ mossy shoulder.

“Just a little dehydrated, isn’t it?” she said.

Bdubs’ frown remained persistent. “I’m not sure.” She looked up at Lizzie with those enormous eyes of his, head tilted just a little bit, questioning. It was very cute. “Isn’t the color a bit off for that?”

Lizzie had to work very hard to steer away from those beautiful brown eyes to look back at the sickly plant. “Hm… you might be right. I still think it could just be thirsty though, and that’s definitely easier to fix! So maybeee we just give it extra water for a few days, and hope it goes away?”

Bdubs immediately burst into his hearty laugh, and Lizzie found herself giggling along with her.

“Oh, yes~” he said in that funny way she did. “If we pretend it’s not bad soil or something then surely it will be so!”

Lizzie laughed, and brushed her knuckles over Bdubs’ cheek before stepping back to the plants she was working at. “Exactly!”

Bdubs’ gaze seemed to linger on Lizzie for a moment, smiling dopily, but she quickly hopped up and headed back toward the house. “Grabbing a watering can it is~!” Lizzie blushed just a bit, but quickly got back to work in the garden bed.

Lizzie liked this way they went about their… crushes, no use beating around the bush. Not having to hide it, but they had both agreed they didn’t feel the need to make it a standard kind of romantic relationship. It was for fun, more than anything else.

There was something very freeing about being the only two alloromantic people in a house of aromanticism, surrounded by webs of queerplatonic and otherwise non-standard relationships, when considering a thing like theirs. Both of them had their marriages, Lizzie in a happily constructed romantic relationship with Joel, and Bdubs the happy queerplatonic partner of Cleo, but they were also both very aware of their feelings for each other. Those feelings didn’t go much deeper than fluffy romance for the two of them, but the underlying friendship and their security in the net of other dedicated relationships around them meant they could feel just fine about that.

Funny thing about aromantic ideas, they’re actually a lot more freeing for everyone.

Bdubs pushed open the back door to the house, stepping into the mudroom behind the kitchen, singing, “I’m home~!!”

“You were in here 15 minutes ago, moss man!” Tango snickered from where he stood by the sink.

“And that’s a long time for people to miss my beautiful face!”

Tango set a sparkling clean bowl on the towel that had been laid on the counter beside the sink. It seemed the phoenix had ended up with the dish duties for the day. “Of course!” He murmured the next part under its breath, with a teasing twinkle in its eye, “would have liked another five minutes of peace and quiet though…”

“HEY!”

Tango burst into laughter, setting down the sponge as he flipped to face Bdubs, leaning back against the counter as he clutched his stomach. “Oh, it’s too easy!”

Bdubs put her hands on her hips, expression split between an offended scowl and a suppressed grin. “What’s easy?! Being- being rude!?”

With a last huff of laughter, Tango took two fresh towels from a drawer, and tossed one to drape over Bdubs’ face in a gentle attack. “Making you mad, mossy. Come help me dry, will ya?”

“Hmph!” Bdubs’ voice remained angry, but his big eyes were smiling when she pulled the towel off his face. “Only because I’m so nice. Unlike some people.”

“Yeah, yeah. Grab that pan.”

The two of them fall into an easy rhythm in moments, only the soft clatter of stacking dishes interrupting the comfortable silence. It’s like that with them, the teasing and ribbing flowing as easily as simple, undemanding company. Partners of the same partners, that’s kind of how it settled. There was something rather reassuring about the metamour relationship for them, where they knew what the other liked because they knew what they liked themself, a kind of mirror of affection. Maybe in a world where they hadn’t found themselves colliding from shared orbits, they would have run into each other on their own and filled the gaps. But probably not. It was too comfortable like this, why would they change anything? Held in proximity by the people around them, and happy to do so.

The drying was done in just a few minutes, and Tango giggling at its own last joke at Bdubs as she stepped back out into the garden, watering can in hand. The phoenix put his hands on its hips, surveying the now clean kitchen. Seemed everything was done here, so now to decide what to do next…

The phoenix jumped and let out a very manly squeak as a loud BANG sounded from upstairs.

“I’m fine!” Cleo’s voice followed.

“You sure?’ Tango shouted up, already hopping up the stairs two at a time.

“Yep, I’m sure! Just don’t come u-”

Whoops. Too late. Tango had already pushed open the door to Cleo’s workshop. In its defense, the zombie ought to have known he’d come running at any scary sound.

There were bronze feathers scattered across the floor, and a life-sized figure in smooth, blank clay laying awkwardly on its side. There was some kind of contraption wrapped around its torso to cling to its back, mangled wiring in two flared shapes. Wings. A few of the bronzed feathers hung from these outstretched tendrils of copper, still swinging from the momentum of the crash, and a few splinters of clay were still spinning where they’d shattered from the elbow that had taken the brunt of the impact when the statue fell.

“Turns out, wings are a real pain to balance!” Cleo said, shooting Tango a flicker of a smile before kneeling to gather the feathers that had come to a stop at rots feet. Tango’s own wings readjust as it kneels to join her.

“Wait, was this-?”

“Yeah, it was for you, silly,” Cleo cut him off with a chuckle. “Or of you. Something like that.”

“Whah! Wh-” Tango made a series of strangled sounds as his hair started to flare up, golden flames flicking to frame his flustered expression.

Cleo laughed even more at that, and began to teasingly shake one feather at it like a disapproving finger. “I do nice things, Tango! Don’t be so surprised.” But their smile betrayed that there was no real hurt.

It wasn’t everyday that the two of them did things like this for each other, but it also wasn’t rare either. Tango and Cleo exchanged the occasional gift, went on the occasional date, all in a platonic sense but certainly with gestures generally associated with romance. Their relationship was more based in much smaller gestures, like huddling up together when a storm had them on edge, or holding hands on the walk to stressful adulting business. They were founded on that kind of comfort, and it occasionally, naturally for them, bloomed into these kinds of things. They’d been jokingly called girlfriends enough times for them to be able to laugh about that kind of thing, so sure! They were “just” friends, but also did dating things. Why not? But it still managed to make Tango’s wings puff up with happy embarrassment about gestures like this.

Cleo particularly liked getting those kinds of reactions from Tango. As she watched the phoenix stumble for a response to rots jabbing, they laid a hand on his shoulder briefly. “I’ll forgive you for the rudeness because you helped clean up though.” They rubbed her thumb over his shoulder quickly before letting up and walking to the desk in one corner of the workshop, where rot very gracefully dumped all the collected feathers. Tango followed and did the same, finally seeming to recompose itself to jab back.

“You’d better! I gotta say, bangin’ around up here with a surprise, not even with the door locked? Rookie mistake on your part.”

“It was meant to be locked!” Cleo exclaimed with a playful pout. “I told Etho to lock it when she left a minute ago.”

Cleo then registered the footsteps that had been passing by a few seconds ago, but were now halted outside the room. A very quiet voice piped up. “I thought I’d locked it.”

Tango exploded with laughter as Cleo banged open the door, laughing too hard to even pretend to frown at Etho. His own eyes were smiling though behind her mask.

“Foiled! You have to help me fix it then, since Tango already took cleanup.”

Etho leaned over to peek into the room, eyeing the contraption on the back of the statue Tango was currently standing back up.

“Sounds fun, actually. You were having trouble with the balancing, yeah?”

“Yeah, extra limbs are always hard. And attaching the feathers is more of a puzzle than an art, really.” Cleo stepped to the side to let Etho into the room, and began to actually assess the damage to the statue. “I’ll need to patch up that elbow too… I’ll need fresh clay.”

“I can grab you some,” Tango offered.

“You’re my hero, that’d be lovely Tango.” The phoenix nodded, and hopped to the door, pausing in the frame before ducking out of sight and down the stairs.

“Coming right up!”

So Cleo was left to look at Etho while he looked at the statue.

“Well?”

“I would have thought that’d do the trick, honestly,” Etho began. “It looks even enough, particularly over the leg positioning.”

Cleo chuckled and stepped to stand beside her, crossing rots arms as rot assessed the structure. “Well, that’s what I’d thought too, but,” they gestured to the bits of clay shattering on the floor, “boom.”

“Yeah… not ideal, huh?”

“Nope!”

“Hm… have you tried anchoring it with some kind of extra plating?”

The two of them were quickly caught up in flowing discussion, as natural as water rolling downhill. Didn’t even have to think about it, they clicked so well, and ideas seemed near-telepathically tossed between them. They were built on understanding, like that. It’s why a partnership worked so well, why they were home to each other. Who cared if Etho was a good kisser or any of that, it was never a thought that crossed Cleo’s mind, or vice versa for the fae to think about the zombie like that. They didn’t have to think much about their relationship at all past the few establishing conversations they’d had about it, it just fell into place. They understood each other, in ways no one else did. If that’s not what “queerplatonic” was for, then what was?

After several minutes of this, Tango returned from digging through closets and storage chests with a package of fresh, soft clay, and Etho took a step back as Cleo reached out for it.

“Thanks, Tango!”

“No problem!” The phoenix glanced between the two of them. “You guys get it figured out?”

“I think so,” Cleo mumbled, already only half-focused on conversing, hands now occupied with smoothing over the clay patch on the statue’s elbow. It made Etho chuckle, noticing the way they stuck rots tongue out between her teeth just the tiniest bit in focus.

“I think rot’s got a handle on it now,” Etho said. “I’ll leave you to it Cleo.” The zombie’s focus broke for just a moment to shoot him a soft smile in silent thanks, before turning back to work. Tango seemed to be settling in to chat idly while she worked, but Etho turned on heel and headed downstairs.

There was a breeze coming in through the open windows near the front of the house, and it drew Etho toward them. She found herself wandering into the living room, where he picked a seat near one of the larger windows, and-

“RAH!”

“Joel!” Etho exclaimed with a laugh as he suddenly found one of the house’s two brown and green folk on top of him. Not soft enough to be Bdubs’ mossy form though, and the shout was definitely Joel’s. If it wasn’t for the sound and feel of her, though, Etho wouldn’t be able to identify him through the pile of person on top of him.

“What Etho, you stuck? Fallen into my trap? Seems like I win, Etho, if you give up that easy!” Joel was managing to poke one finger into Etho’s ribs with each sentence, so Etho started working on detangling her arms to poke back.

“I didn’t tap yet!” After a second the fae managed to grab what seemed to be Joel’s shoulder and tug him to the side, so the smaller figure was tucked somewhat into the spot in between the side of the armchair and Etho’s body. Somewhat. She was definitely still halfway on top of Etho, with one of Etho’s arms pinned behind him, but at least he could see Joel’s overly pleased grin now. “There.”

Joel pushed at Etho, partially readjusting and partially for the continued fight of it. “You’re pinching my leg, Etho.”

“Well whose fault is that?”

“Yours,” Joel said with a smirk. Etho flicked her ear.

“Okay, sure! Says the guy that jumped on me.”

But as much as they were poking at each other, verbally and physically, neither of them were really trying to get away from the other. They just needed an excuse, of course. For the closeness, for them to be able to sit like this- and the wonderful thing was, they always found it with each other. The both of them had old problems with putting up walls, with their reputations seeming to push out any room for moments of weakness, but all it takes is one excuse to knock those down. Double Life’s soulmate bond, of course, but past that, little moments like this. For whatever reason, it was able to override any protest their proud minds might make. This was a sparring match, clearly, so they could relax and be fulfilled by the contact and presence of the other. And there was fun in the game, and a kind of admission of love under Joel caring enough to “attack.” At this point, they’d broken the walls down enough they were far more comfortable with the casual and sweet, but there was still such a power to these kinds of interactions. The ability to completely ignore any kinds of social rules, and just lay on top of each other in a chair that really didn’t fit them.

“What are you two doing?” Lizzie piped in with a chuckle as she appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and living room.

“I’m winning,” Joel said, beaming as she reached back to poke Etho’s ribs another time to demonstrate. “See?”

Lizzie shook her head as the grinned at the sight of them. “You’re going to break that chair.”

“Joel might,” Etho said, which Joel of course repaid with an elbow to the gut. “Ow!”

“He might fall out of it, if nothing else.” Lizzie glanced to give Etho a friendly wink. “You can give him a good shove, I won’t tell.”

“Hey!” Joel shouted as Etho started to slowly push her in a way that would roll him over the chair’s arm and onto the floor if kept up. “You’re my wife, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I mean, I think being your wife is the perfect reason to want to see you pushed onto the floor,” Lizzie said with a last giggle as she turned away from the doorway. “Love you!”

Joel suddenly found himself on the floor. “Love you too.” He pushed himself up to sit criss-cross, and crossed her arms to match as she glared up at Etho. “Can’t believe you’d team up with my wife against me.”

Etho giggled as he peered down over the armrest at Joel, propping his cheek up with one arm against it. “Let’s be honest, I could get anyone in this house to team up to get you.”

Joel huffed, but not quite in an annoyed enough fashion to cover her own giggling. “Yeah, you’re right.”

And she was. Across the web of relationships stretching through this house, there were a million little reasons for anyone else to join in on the fun, to feel comfortable enough to get in on the teasing without worrying about anyone going to far, to have affection worth demonstrating in such a way. Because Joel may have been married to Lizzie, but Lizzie was kissing Bdubs, and Bdubs was linked up to Tango through partnerships with Cleo and Etho, and Joel was tangled back up into it through each unique, inescapable connection. None of them were the same, but they were all built on this household. This house, safe and vibrant and alive as it was, shared by all of them, connected all of them. It was a messy thing, all the complexities and relationships that didn’t fit in boxes or under labels, but it was their family of a strange sort. The people who were havens of safety, the place they’d built to just exist together, comfortable and happy. Far from conventional, always a blur of interwoven interactions, but at the end of the day, dinner was usually at six, and everyone would have a bed to sleep in at the end of the night.

What more could you expect from a home?

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