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scribbling-dragon · 9 months

Text

Forced Acquisition of a Child

summary:

“Jimmy,” he holds the baby awkwardly, gripping it under the arms. The blanket unravels a little, trailing below but not quite touching the floor. He’s never held a baby. He should never be trusted to hold a baby, and yet, somehow, here he is. “Why have you got a baby.”

“fWhip gave it to me,” Jimmy continues to look and sound the most distressed Tango has ever seen him, and Tango was there for the Train Incident. They still don’t have an explanation for how it appeared overnight, but Jimmy is too scared to remove it. Like the train tracks might summon another train if he does. “And then he just left.”

Or: Jimmy "doesn't know" how to take care of babies, and Tango doesn't know how to take care of babies.

(ao3 link)

(masterpost)

(2,185 words)

“But what am I meant to do with it?” He tries not to sound too distressed, but even he can hear how terribly he fails at that, voice coming out higher pitched and squeakier than he intends. He’s never beating the toy allegations. The baby he’s hold at arm's length looks rather content, only wriggling slightly as Jimmy continues to stare at it.

He doesn’t think it’s blinked once.

“I dunno,” fWhip is already walking away, shrugging and not even looking back at Jimmy. “Your problem now, don’t kill it, yeah? Alright, bye!”

“Oh my god,” he looks back at the baby he’s holding. He doesn’t even know how to hold a baby. He’s pretty sure there’s a specific way you’re meant to do it though. He’s not suited for this; he can keep the cats content, easy, they’re cats. If they’re not happy they go a kill something to keep themselves happy. Or they run to Tango so they can use him as a heating pad. Cats are simple, in that they practically take care of themselves. All he needs to remember to do is feed them and shower them in love and affection.

He's never even seen a child this small before. Are children meant to be this small? Do they normally emerge from rocks, is that how it works? It doesn’t seem like the way it should work, but he also doesn’t know enough on the topic to dispute it. He never thought to ask before, but maybe he should have. He really, really should have.

He thinks. Doing his best, at least, as the baby continues to stare at him. Unblinking.

It’s like having a mini-fWhip at arm’s length, judging his every move. Which…actually isn’t far off what the normal fWhip does. Enjoys doing, whichever. But he does normally blink a little more than this. Did fWhip have a staring problem as a baby? He can’t picture fWhip as a baby; he’d always assumed the goblin just sprung from the earth fully formed, or something. He rests a hand over the baby’s eyes, shifting his grip on it so it’s cradled in the crook of his elbow.

God, he knows nothing about children. This is such a horrific idea. Whose idea was it in the first place? Right, yeah, adoption program. It just sounds like a way of foisting childcare onto the other empires because fWhip can’t be bothered to deal with it.

He can think a little clearer now that the baby isn’t staring at him, judging his every move. He keeps his hand firmly pressed over their eyes, but not hard enough to do any damage. He thinks. He doesn’t even know how to hold a baby! He’s doing his best.

Never mind, just…think.

Think. Who would be able to help with this? The other empires have their own goblin children to deal with, and he doesn’t even want to know what some of them are doing to these unfortunate children that have, somehow, managed to end up in their care.

What smart people does he know that have good, well-rounded, and applicable life skills? He knows a lot of people. Not many of them are well-adjusted to normal life, meaning he can easily disregard over half of the people he knows.

He spins on the spot as epiphany strikes him, hooves clattering loudly over the stone as he realises he already has an answer, a remedy to all of his problems: Tango.

=== === ===

Tango hummed quietly to himself as he moved back and forth, tail flicking behind him as he rearranged a few more of the files. It’s not one of his favourite tasks, mainly because Jimmy seems unable to agree on a standard filing system, making everything they have impossible to find in a hurry because it’s in some arbitrary place that made sense at the time.

It’s been a slow process of gradually rearranging everything into a proper system without Jimmy noticing. And also repositioning the documents he puts in the now incorrect places. He had thought by organising it he’d find the system behind Jimmy’s madness. But there is nothing. There is no system. Jimmy loses his files regularly, and then they have to hunt around for them because he managed to remember a tiny detail that means they’ll be able to take one of the local bandits to a proper court and go through proper legal proceedings.

The door crashes open behind him, swinging back into the wall (he’s been meaning to put a doorstop in so that can stop happening. He’s had to repair that wall three times in the past two weeks. It’s getting tiring). He winces at the resounding crash, flinching back from where his hands are in their filing cabinet, still holding one of their thinner files.

“Tango!”

“Jimmy,” he turns around with a smile, relaxing a little as his voice registers to Tango’s ears. “You scared me for a moment there, I thought there was a problem.”

“There is a problem!” Jimmy’s across the room in a moment, looking unusually distressed and cradling something in his arms. “Look!”

And the bundle is thrust unceremoniously into his arms, leaving him fumbling to balance the file and the surprisingly heavy object he’s been given. “Um,” he says, intelligently.

“What am I meant to do with it?”

Tango isn’t even sure what it is yet, so he ignores the question in favour of peeling the blanket back and looking at the thing underneath. A pair of eyes stare back at him, bright blue and unblinking. Right. Alright. That’s a thing.

Right. Goblin King…gave Jimmy a baby goblin. He’s pretty sure goblins just naturally emerge from the stone of their caves, but that doesn’t explain why Jimmy has now come to be in possession of a baby. Even less so why fWhip specifically took the time out of his day to give the baby to Jimmy.

He grimaces at the small creature, more than a little unnerved by the fact that it hasn’t blinked yet.

“And you gave it to me, why?” He holds the baby a little further away from himself, attempting to give it back to Jimmy. Jimmy steps backwards, tripping over his own hooves, and fumbling to catch himself on the edge of the desk. He succeeds in catching himself on Tango’s desk, simultaneously succeeding in disturbing the piles of paper he had spent the morning organising. “I don’t like children.”

“You're smart, you know what to do with a child, right?”

“I might have been a bandit but I never kidnapped a child.” The baby reaches a hand towards his face, grabbing hold of some of his hair and yanking. Tango grimaces at the feeling, pulling his head back to try and avoid the small fists. “I had standards. And a limit on where my patience ends.”

“I wasn’t saying you would, Red,” Jimmy frowns at him. Tango huffs a laugh from his nose, and he watches as Jimmy’s frown deepens. “You were being mean, alright. Nevermind, I don’t think you have any standards. Your standards are terrible.”

“And what does that say about you?”

“That you're lucky to have me.”

The baby makes a small sound, reaching for his hair again. He should have cut it ages ago, should have ignored Jimmy when he said that he liked it. Sure, being able to braid his hair is an added bonus that he gets to enjoy on a morning when Jimmy does it for him, but it’s not worth this. He’s going to have to wash his hair later.

“Did you date fWhip at some point,” he asks.

Jimmy stares at him. “What?” He sounds like he’s either about to start laughing or crying.

“Just,” he gestures helplessly, movements slightly hindered by the baby in his arms. “Babies normally come from a relationship. Or maybe he just really hates you.” The baby makes another grab for his face, aiming for his ear this time. “Just- take the baby, it’s not mine.”

Jimmy almost drops the baby, but manages to catch it quickly enough that it is as though nothing happened. He then cradles the baby in one arm, balancing it perfectly and easily. He looks at the baby, then back at Jimmy, then at the baby again. The baby looks perfectly content, like it might fall asleep.

“It’s not mine either!” Jimmy’s protest is loud enough that Tango worries they might be interrupted by some concerned citizen. He’s not sure how either of them would explain the baby that is very clearly a goblin.

“Alright,” he leans back against the cabinet behind him. “Let’s take this from the top. How did you go from having a meeting with the emperors to acquiring a child.”

“It was part of the meeting.”

“It was part of the meeting,” he repeats. “Alright. Why was it part of the meeting?”

“Because…fWhip got the crown, meaning he got to make a rule. And he wanted…all of us to take care of a goblin child. Like an adoption program.”

“And you just agreed?”

“Uh, yeah?” He’s pretty sure the baby has just fallen asleep. He’s heard Jimmy, several times, protest that he doesn’t know how to deal with children, let alone look after them. He sleeps in the same bed as a liar, apparently. “He has the crown right now.”

“And this crown is all-powerful, is it? All, wow, look at me, I'm so powerful and great and you must listen to my rules?”

“Only one rule.”

“That’s not the point, dear.” He sighs. “Is the crown magical?”

“Maybe?” Jimmy shrugs. “I haven’t been able to get my hands on it yet, but it’s old. Pix found it in a ruin.”

“And his first instinct was to make a game with it? This old and potentially evil crown that might be able to…I don’t know- it might do something!”

“I didn’t think about it very much!” Jimmy protests, still looking at him with his sad eyes. Those eyes stopped working around the time that he figured out Jimmy practiced them in front of a mirror to manipulate him. “This is why you need to come to these meetings with me.”

“No.” He ignores Jimmy’s still sad eyes. “I went for a few, and that was it. You’ll have to tie me up and drag me through the door to get me there.”

“I'm not doing that.”

“Which is why I suggested it,” he smiles. “Now, what you're going to do is take the baby back to Gobland, and we can pretend all of this never happened.”

“But I can’t.”

“Why.” He taps a finger against the cabinet behind him. It isn’t an impatient move, just something he does when he’s thinking hard. He’s calculating, right now, how much work he’ll be able to do while Jimmy returns the baby. He might even be able to finish organising the cabinet. And then he can relax.

“Because of the rule.”

“Alright,” he sighs. “How do you make the rule stop…being in effect.”

“You steal the crown.”

“Well,” he claps his hands together. “Fantabulous, you’ve got your solution. Get him while he’s least expecting it.”

“That’s not a word.”

“Yes it is,” he lies through his teeth. He doesn’t know if it’s a word. Half the words he says aren’t words. It doesn’t matter, they convey his emotions well enough. “Take the baby back to the Goblands.”

“But what if it gets hurt?”

“Bigger chance of it getting hurt with us taking care of it.” He reasons. “I regularly catch on fire. If the cats didn’t land on their feet, you’d have dropped one of them on their head at this point.”

“Harsh.”

“But true,” he presses a kiss to Jimmy’s cheek as he walks past. “If you're quick we might be able to go for an early dinner at Chromia.”

“We’ll go there anyway,” Jimmy grumbles half-heartedly. “It’s a Tuesday. You and Scott have your weird little competition.”

“You love it really.” He calls over his shoulder, already occupying himself again. He prefers doing something to sitting around idly. “Have fun returning the child!” Jimmy doesn’t respond, but he does shut the door gently behind him. Doesn’t make up for the hole in the wall (Tango almost managed to forget about that), but the thought is appreciated.

Jimmy is fantastic, but if he comes back with another child Tango might just kill him.

#juno.writes #red bandit au #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #solidaritek #trafficshipping #empires smp #empires smp fic #empires smp s2 #team rancher #solidarity gaming #solidaritygaming #empires jimmy #empires tango

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scribbling-dragon · 3 months

Text

a gift, from me to you

summary:

“Pray tell, then, what is it you want me to do?” “I want you to make this.” The Sheriff taps on the design detailing the measurements and everything else he wants. “Please,” he adds, seemingly remembering his manners. “Mm.” Scott pretends to consider it. “I’ll see what I can do for you, lover boy.” [Or: Jimmy gets a hat for Tango]

(ao3 link)

(5,157 words)

Jimmy pauses, frowning as the sound of shouting outside only continues to increase in volume. He had hoped that ignoring it for this long would be enough for the simmering flame of a fight to die down. That fight has apparently sparked into a blaze, as a fourth voice joins the fray.

He casts a mournful glance over towards Tango, hoping that his partner and newly promoted second-Sheriff might take initiative and attempt to solve the problem.

“I'm not their beloved Sheriff,” Tango says, not even looking up – he’s not even doing work! He’s tinkering with some little…metal thing, poking and prodding at it.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to,” Tango glances up at him for a moment, eyes alight with amusement as he takes in Jimmy’s appearance. He looks back down a second later, pulling a copper-redstone wire between his claws, before poking around in the metal thing’s insides.

…Maybe it’s better for his safety to go and defuse the argument. Outside. Away from the potentially explosive trinket that Tango has brought to their office this time.

He sighs and stands up, feeling far more tired than he reasonably should be – the sun is only beginning to descend from its zenith and the cooler air should make him feel more energetic.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he fumbles around, reaching for his hat where he’d tossed it off earlier. Only to frown as his hand comes up empty, landing on cool wood instead. He turns his head, already frowning as he tries to figure out which corner of his desk he tossed his hat onto this time.

It’s not there.

He stands there for longer than he’d like to admit to, simply staring at his empty desk – okay, maybe not empty with all the clutter littering his desk. But he can find everything! It’s an organised chaos, and sure, things go missing temporarily but he always manages to find it in the end.

The shouting outside reaches a new peak, and there’s the sound of something heavy being overturned.

“Tango, have you seen my hat?” his voice comes out a little bit panicked, mostly because there seems to be actual destruction going on outside, but also partially because his hat has gone missing. What is a Sheriff without their hat? Not a Sheriff at all, that’s what!

“Mm.” Tango still sounds amused, which isn’t unusual but is maybe a little inappropriate right now. Another thing crashes and he winces. “Why don't you tell me?” Tango’s voice is pleased, something that makes Jimmy’s sixth sense (specifically related to Tango and him doing something that he shouldn’t be) light up, prickling along the back of his neck.

He turns back to face Tango. Tango, who is still tinkering away with his little trinket, poking around in its insides. Tango, who is currently wearing his hat.

“Ah,” he frowns. His hat is a little too big for Tango’s head, and he’s got it tipped too far forward so the brim is drooping over most of his face. “Can I have it?”

Tango tilts his head back, far enough that he looks like he’s going to tip out of his chair. The sounds of destruction outside have died down for now, at least. He’s still anxious to get out there and resolve whatever petty conflict escalated this far.

“Please,” he adds, noticing Tango’s raised eyebrow.

“Of course, dearest.” Tango says, but he doesn’t offer the hat out for him. Nor does he take it off. “Can’t have the darling Sheriff spotted without his hat, hm?”

Tango’s eyes shine teasingly, and Jimmy understands just what Tango is angling for as he steps forward and that pleased grin curls up even further. He sighs, shaking his head in fond amusement as the sounds of argument die down into a more civil discussion. He still needs to figure out what they’ve managed to damage, unfortunately, even if they seem to have resolved the argument by themselves.

“Thank you,” he plucks the hat from Tango’s head, completely missing when tango snakes his arms out, wrapping around his waist and pulling him forward. That, coupled with Tango’s tail wrapping tightly around his legs means he almost falls directly onto his partner.

“They’ve resolved it themselves,” Tango tells him, even as Jimmy rights the hat on his head. Where it belongs. He continues to hold onto him, thumbs resting just above his hip bones, trinket seemingly forgotten about, discarded on Tango’s desk. “There’s no point in running out there and demanding answers, hm?”

“I need to find out what they were tossing about. And why.”

He doesn’t even bother to try and free himself from Tango’s grip. The man is like an overly clingy octopus on some days, reluctant to release Jimmy and let him go about his day without a shadow following his every footstep. He had thought today was one of the days where Tango seemed to forget anyone else existed other than him, but he seemed to just be biding his time until Jimmy got close enough to be captured.

He sighs, though he cannot deny it’s overwhelmingly fond. If any of their friends were here right now, Jimmy is certain they’d be gagging and turning away, as though they were doing something far worse than hugging.

“C’mon, I’ll be back in a second.”

Tango pauses for a moment, then hums once and releases him.

“There, see? Look, I’ll even give this to you to look after until I'm back.”

Before he can think any further on it, before he can think enough to decide it’s actually a bad idea, he takes his hat off again and plonks it onto Tango’s head. He then turns and escapes the office as fast as he can, ignoring Tango’s confused little sound and resisting the urge to look back and see what expression he’s pulling.

He then gives in and sneaks a glance.

Okay, maybe giving the hat back was more for his own benefit than Tango’s. Sue him! He didn’t realise that Tango actually suited a hat, alright?! How could he, when the only time Tango has worn a hat before was in the dark, and Jimmy was far too preoccupied with getting said hat back from his partner’s sticky fingers.

His eyes linger a little longer than appropriate on Tango before he forcefully turns himself around and marches into the street to sort out whatever stupid, petty argument someone’s had today. One that warranted shoving someone’s cart hard enough to topple the whole thing over.

His heart isn’t really in reprimanding them, even if they look like a pair of guilty children than have been found painting the walls. Instead, he’s far more focused on the beginnings of an idea that are coming together in his mind.

===

Scott appreciates the quiet nights. The ones that have plenty of patrons, but none of his more rowdy ones. The ones that like to cause trouble, the ones that come here looking for trouble. Most of them have been identified and given to the staff so they know to be wary when those customers come knocking.

He could just outright ban him – the Sheriff has pleaded with him several times to just ban them rather than forcing him to ride all the way from the mesa because they’ve decided to start a fight and Scott cannot be bothered to sort it himself. But a paying customer is a paying customer, and most of them have the good decency to go outside before they start fighting, greatly reducing his expenses for replacing broken glasses.

Perhaps it was his own fault for even daring to utter ‘quiet’ in the privacy of his own mind. Maybe there’s some god out there that read his thoughts and decided to shove this particular problem in his direction, for him to deal with, just for the gall to enjoy a nice, slow evening.

His first warning of the incoming visitor is when someone hurries into the tavern on near-silent feet, but every single one of his shadier patrons perks up at her entrance.

Scott watches her too, well-aware that there is often some kind of lookout watching for any kind of law enforcement when some kind of deal is going on. He grits his teeth. Which means that someone is doing deals in his tavern without his permission.

He sets the clean glass down on the counter and raises a singular eyebrow at the group highest on his suspect list.

He’s had issues with them in previous months, where they didn’t want to pay the pocket change they owed him because he let them make dealings inside his tavern. He charges a fair price for the business he allows behind closed doors, for someone to even attempt to scam him? They're lucky he didn’t do something worse than what he did.

He jerks his head towards the door, keeping his eye very firmly fixed on the leader of that group. The entire table vanishes, scrambling out the door.

A few other patrons leave as the news about the Sheriff’s impending arrival reaches more and more ears.

He watches them go, more than a little bitter that the Sheriff is chasing his business away. Whatever he wants, it better be good.

He raises an eyebrow when the Sheriff finally enters, clutching something close to his chest as he makes an immediate beeline for him. Several pairs of eyes follow him across the tavern, people beginning to relax once they realise that the Sheriff is here for Scott rather than any of his patrons.

“Good evening, Sheriff.”

“Scott,” the Sheriff greets, not even having the manners to return his cordial greeting. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Oh?” He blinks as the Sheriff slams whatever he was clutching down onto the bar countertop, spreading the paper out so Scott can see the scribbles on the surface. “I wasn’t aware you were interested in leatherworking.” Slightly ironic, seeing as the Sheriff has a tiny relation to the same animals this leather is taken from. Not that it seems to bother him, what with the leather hat and leather jacket.

“I'm not.”

“Pray tell, then, what is it you want me to do?”

“I want you to make this.” The Sheriff taps on the design detailing the measurements and everything else he wants. “Please,” he adds, seemingly remembering his manners.

“Mm.” Scott pretends to consider it. “I’ll see what I can do for you, lover boy.”

“I- what did you call me?”

“You heard me,” Scott grins. “Of course, I'm assuming you're going to pay me for this, yes? My skills with…this are much sought after. I wouldn’t want it to come to light that the darling Sheriff was…extorting his friends, hm?”

“Of course I’ll pay you. Name your price.”

“He really does have you wrapped around his finger. You, my dear Sheriff, are an absolute sucker.”

The Sheriff ignores him. A valiant effort. “When will it be ready for me to pick up?”

“Give me a week.” He holds his hand out, “Half of the payment now, and half then. Have we got a deal?” He wiggles his fingers teasingly, waiting for the Sheriff to take his hand and seal the deal. He gets a sour look instead. Ah, too smart for those tricks, it seems. He lowers his hand again, only mildly disappointed.

“How much do I owe you?”

===

“You're acting weird.”

“What?” Jimmy says, in a weird, not at all normal voice. “No I'm not!”

Tango stops and stares at him. He hopes his face correctly conveys enough of the what the hell and you're joking, right? sentiment he was going for. Jimmy winces and looks guilty, so he’ll call that a mission success.

“Did you break something?” he asks. Maybe Jimmy went poking around in his workshop again and found something – it wouldn’t be the first time that he’s accidentally broken one of Tango’s projects, and it probably won’t be the last time.

He can’t find it in himself to care when Jimmy does break some of his inventions, either, as he can just piece them back together. What’s the point in making something that he wouldn’t be able to fix if it broke? Plus, most of them are hastily cobbled together from scraps when the inspiration struck him, and then promptly abandoned.

“Ah, no I didn’t break anything.” Jimmy shakes his head hard enough that Tango momentarily worries that it’s going to unscrew itself and fly away. It doesn’t, thankfully. “I just…have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

He loves surprises. Especially ones that he gets to find out immediately – the suspense kills him every single time, meaning if he has to wait for longer than a few hours, maybe a day at most, to find out what it is, he might just combust. Sometimes literally.

“Yes,” Jimmy laughs, his eyes squinting shut. Tango grins up at him, not caring that Jimmy’s giggling at his enthusiasm, because the laugh isn’t mean, just excited and endeared. “It’s at home.”

“And what is it that you’ve gotten me?”

“You have to wait,” Jimmy pushes at his shoulder. “That’s the point of a surprise.”

“But you could just tell me now, couldn’t you?” Tango teases. “I'm about to find out in a second, what’s the point of waiting – I’ll have the same reaction all over again when you show it to me, I promise.”

“Just go look,” Jimmy says with a laugh, pushing him through their front door.

“Alright, alright…” he stops. And he stares. And stares…and stares a little more. “Huh.” Is what he manages to say when everything seems to have resettled in his mind, clicking mostly back into the right places.

“Do you not like it? It’s fine if you don't, I just thought that-”

“Shut up,” Tango tells him, and then decides that’s not enough and kisses him instead. “Thank you,” he says when he pulls back. He would normally linger in a moment like that for longer, but his hands are itching to pick the hat up and run his hands over the leather.

“I love it,” he tells Jimmy, when the hat is comfortably resting on his head. It has little leather dangling bits around the brim which sway back and forth when he moves. He wobbles his head, just to make them swish. “I love you.”

“Ah, Tango!” Jimmy covers his face with his hands. “Gods, warn a guy before you say something like that next time?”

“But you go so red every time I do! How can I resist!”

He wobbles his head again, just to watch the tassels swing. Damn. He can see why Jimmy likes his hat, this thing makes him feel important.

===

Time is the best solution for any malady, just…leave something alone for long enough and everything should sort itself out all nice.

So why is it that he still dreads the flight up to Stratos? It’s a short flight, one that barely takes a few seconds, one that starts in the village flourishing in the shadow of the citadel above, and ends with his hooves touching down on the grass outlining the main pathways of the island.

The gold of the citadel is blindingly bright this early in the morning, everything turning molten in the sunlight. The quartz reflects the light equally bright, and it forces him to squint his eyes against the light.

He’s going to blame his shoddy landing on his half-closed eyes, attempting to not blind himself this meeting. He stumbles, the tip of on hoof catching on the very edge of the island and sending him forward, grasping for his balance again. Tango catches his elbow and pulls him back upright, thankfully before he can make even more of a fool of himself and do something stupid like fall on his face, though it’s not done without a snicker.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tango looks away, tilting his new hat down over his face so Jimmy can’t see it as well. He can still see well enough to spot the barely repressed grin, even as the leather tassels drift about his face and cast an even deeper shadow. His ears flick a few times as the leather strips bump into them, brushing over the short fur, Tango obviously still unused to wearing the hat and all the accessories that come with it. “I'm not laughing. Promise.”

“I can see you grinning.”

Tango’s apology would have been far more convincing if he couldn’t see the way Tango’s ears continue to tremble, even after the leather strips stop irritating them, shaking with the repressed giggles that Tango is biting back.

“No, you can’t.” Tango turns his face even further away, warm hand slipping away from Jimmy’s elbow as he tugs his hat down, lower over his face. His tail continues to flick back and forth, betraying his continued amusement at Jimmy’s expense, flames sputtering in time with his silent laughs.

“It’s really not that funny,” he complains. And maybe he’s whining a little bit, but it makes Tango turn back to him, amused gleam continuing to shine in his eyes. “I don't make fun of you for hiding from the rain!”

“You don't, you don't,” Tango huffs out a laugh, then turns to properly face him once more. “C’mon, best we get this over with, yeah?”

Jimmy clicks his tongue at Tango’s blatant dislike for Joel. “We’re allies now,” he reminds. It’s a tentative alliance, for sure, but it’s an alliance nonetheless. He doesn’t have many of those, and having a god (no matter how egotistical that god is) on his side – their side – is comforting. Even if it means getting up at the worst possible times because the god seems to rise with the goddamn sun.

He pulls Tango back when he goes to walk away, ignoring the confused, inquisitive noise that Tango makes when he pulls him around to look at his face.

He stares at Tango for several long moments, hand resting on the juncture between Tango’s shoulder and neck. He brushes his hand up and adjusts Tango’s hat, so it’s not covering his face so much anymore.

He can’t help but linger for a moment, the back of his hand grazing against Tango’s cheek. “There,” he pats Tango’s cheek, “much better like that. Now,” he takes the lead, “remember to be polite.”

“Oh, you wanna talk?” Tango scoffs a laugh, turning to chase after him. Jimmy’s face still feels a little warm from staring longingly into Tango’s eyes for several long moments just seconds ago. And…maybe Tango’s a little right, yeah, maybe most of their trade agreements and whatnot are spent trying to figure out what petty jab to use next, and when to use it for maximum effect.

Tango’s told him several times that he should be the bigger person and not to return the jabs, that only encourages him! But Jimmy has also watched Tango, the biggest advocator for maintaining a professional persona while working and also the biggest hypocrite he knows, make several rude and aggressive gestures at Joel’s back the moment the god turns away.

…He’s beginning to see why most of the times he managed to arrest Tango was after he had been ganged up on by other bandits.

“And being allies,” he continues, ignoring Tango. “Means that we need to be courteous.”

“He’s not here yet,” Tango says. “And just you wait, you’ll be eating your words the moment ‘toy’ drops out of his mouth.”

Jimmy doesn’t have a responding argument for that. Mostly because Tango is right and also because they’ve just arrived at the arranged meeting spot. The arranged meeting spot where Joel is already present and ready, probably preparing to shame them for being late by three seconds, or something equally stupid.

And despite the stupidly early hour, Joel is lounging casually and drinking something from a crudely made mug. It’s a far cry from the things Joel makes for himself, let alone deems worthy enough to be used by his holier than thou hands.

The words trip out of his mouth before he can even process anything else about their surroundings: “Did you sit on that mug halfway through making it?” The mug really does look quite squashed, wonky, and with a far too large handle. The handle is larger than the rest of the mug. “Why’d you still stick it in the kiln looking like that?”

It’s meant as an insult. A small thing designed to irritate the god and make him eager to get them out of Stratos as soon as possible. A short meeting with the god is the most desirable kind.

What he didn’t account for, however, is the small child sat just beside Joel. Though, instead of sitting in a chair, he’s seated on the lush grass. Hermes pauses what he was doing – some kind of drawing in a little sketchbook, so similar to the one that Joel carries around with him – to look up.

“Does my mug…look like someone sat on it?”

Shit.

“Not at all.” Joel stares at him, but even the unrelenting gaze promising a slow and painful death doesn’t manage to pull Jimmy’s eyes away from the child’s face, and how Hermes looks as though he might burst into tears at any second.

Shit.

He’s floundering, lost amongst a sea of words and grasping for literally anything that might save him from his fast-approaching death. One that Joel is already constructing in his mind’s eye, raising the executioner’s axe in preparation for the first tears being shed.

“Oh no, no,” his saviour is not some half-baked excuse and apology rolled into one that he managed to come up with to smooth ruffled feathers and assure the child of his incredible pottery skills. Instead, his saviour comes in the form of his wonderful, fantastic and stunning partner stepping up – quite literally.

He crosses the grass in a few strides, shawl flapping around him and flames curling with anxiety. He crouches down beside Hermes, not quite touching the demigod child, but his hands remain hovering over the child’s arms.

“What the Sheriff meant to say,” Jimmy winces, “is that your mug is wonderfully unique! I’ve never before seen such use of angles and lines, and the colours too…”

Tango’s voice trails off, though his mouth continues moving, without words. It takes Jimmy a few moments to process that it is his hearing that has failed him, not that Tango’s silver tongue has given up and left him fumbling for more words to continue comforting the child in front of them.

All that filters through his head is muffled, as though he has dunked his head underwater as everyone else continues to talk around him.

He watches as Hermes brightens beneath Tango’s praise, his uncertain frown transforming into a beaming grin as he begins gesturing wildly, hands flying all over the place. His drawings are abandoned, seemingly forgotten, as he focuses instead on speaking with Tango.

And the latter nods along attentively. If Jimmy’s ears were working properly he’s certain he would hear the way Tango normally hums along when he’s listening to something – he can almost hear the sound, can feel the vibration of it within his own chest, familiar and comforting in its cadence – and he’d be able to hear Tango asking questions, keeping the child engaged and distracted from Jimmy’s earlier shoving-his-foot-in-his-mouth moment.

“Hm,” he tries not to startle at the sudden return of his hearing and the even more sudden appearance of Joel beside him. He didn’t even see the man stand up, let alone make his way over here – get it together Jimmy! Tango might look incredibly endearing and loveable right now, but if this was any other occasion such distraction could be fatal! …Oh, who was he kidding. If this was a lethal situation and Tango revealed that he was good with kids, Jimmy would be a dead man.

“I wouldn’t have thought Tango was so good with children.” Joel echoes his own thoughts exactly. “Did you know this?”

“…No?”

Joel side-eyes him. “You don't sound very certain of yourself.”

Well, not all of us are self-assured, egotistical maniacs.

“Well, I've never seen him interact with children before,” Jimmy says, incredibly diplomatic compared to his original thoughts. “And, apparently,” he gestures at the scene in front of them helplessly, unable to communicate further.

Tango’s gone from kneeling in front of Hermes to sitting beside him, watching as the child flips through his sketchbook and narrates every brushstroke to him.

“Hm.” Joel responds.

It’s an unusually concise response from the god, but he doesn’t have much to say either today, stunned to silence by Tango’s apparent ability to comfort and then entertain a child for longer than five minutes. He’d thought Tango’s skill with children extended to his abilities to deal with babies – non-existent.

“He’s good with kids,” Joel says. “I’ll give him that…say, how much d’you think he’d charge for a babysitting service?”

“You're not paying my partner to babysit your kid. He has more important things to be doing.”

“Haha, I'm sure he does.”

“Don't be disgusting, Hermes is right there.” Joel doesn’t flinch as Jimmy jabs him in the side, only giving him an unimpressed look that just says: you think that would hurt me, mere mortal? Or something equally pretentious.

“I was talking about the obvious signature of getting promoted,” Joel side-eyes him again- seriously, would it kill him to actually look at Jimmy properly for once! “What were you talking about?” He has a grin on his face that Jimmy knows means Joel knows exactly what it is that he was implying, and Joel knows that Jimmy knows this.

He, very maturely, does not rise to the bait.

“You mean the hat.”

“It’s an interesting little thing. You commission Scott to do it?”

“Yeah.” He pauses. “How could you tell?”

“A guess.” Joel glances over at him from the corner of his eye. “Mostly because I know you're an absolute sucker for him and would settle for nothing but the best.”

“I am not a sucker for him-”

“Oh, look,” Joel interrupts him. “He’s letting Hermes try the hat on.”

What?

He looks over to the scene he’d momentarily dismissed in order to argue with Joel properly, pausing as he takes it in. He watches Tango laugh when the hat slips over Hermes’ face and makes it disappear completely.

His eyes go all squinty as he laughs, the creases around his eyes only increasing as Hermes lifts the hat to glare at him from beneath it, having to brush aside the leather tassels to actually see him.

It’s an unfairly attractive quality of Tango that Jimmy hadn’t even realised existed until a few minutes ago.

It distracts him throughout the rest of the meeting, especially when Tango chooses to remain sitting on the ground and entertain Hermes for the duration of his and Joel’s discussion over the gunpowder prices, during which Jimmy has to explain why his prices are higher than the unethical creeper farms found on the edges of the mesa – most of which he's working on wiping out.

A few have inevitably fallen through the cracks, but he makes Joel, unwillingly, hand over the details of their locations so he can go hunt them down when he has the chance.

It's a relief, really, to have someone that entertains Hermes throughout the meeting. Where he would normally be sat on Joel’s knee or tugging at his toga for some kind of attention, now he’s content and docile, happy to sketch Tango in that wobbly and rather ugly way that only a child can achieve.

Tango still coos over the drawings Hermes shows him, acting as though he’s been gifted the most precious treasure when Hermes offers out one of said drawings at the end of the meeting, half-hiding behind Joel’s leg as he does so.

It’s only then that Tango manages to reclaim his hat from the child, settling it comfortably back on his head.

“So,” Jimmy says as they touch down into the village below, slowly making their way back to the village stables to collect their horses. “Good with kids?”

“I'm really not,” Tango scoffs. “What, you think I’d tell him to just shove off? You almost made the kid cry, dearest.”

“I didn’t think you’d sit and let him draw you.”

“The kid’s a budding artist,” Tango shrugs. “Who knows, maybe one day he’ll be incredibly famous and this drawing will be worth thousands.” He waves the small piece of paper around. The sketch on it is only recognisable as Tango because of the cat-like ears and the flame-tipped tail. “See, he’s signed it and everything.”

“That is barely legible as his name.” Jimmy says, though he does so with a smile.

“Uh-huh, alright, you wanna talk about you and Joel then? I thought you hated the guy but I look up and you two are laughing together?”

“I don't hate him, I just have a healthy dislike for him,” Jimmy protests. “I wouldn’t ally myself with someone I actively hate! And anyway, I was laughing at him not with him.”

“Sure, sure,” Tango nods along, speaking in a way that means he’s not at all convinced. “Only, I could’ve sworn you two looked like you were friends?”

“We’re not friends!” Jimmy’s protest this time is much louder, gaining the disapproving looks of many nearby villagers. He clamps his mouth shut, ears going hot with embarrassment. “I still don't like him.”

“Okay, alright,” Tango laughs. At his expense! Laughs at his suffering! “Not friends, got it.”

He’s still smiling like he knows something Jimmy doesn’t, though.

Most unfortunate of all is the look Tango sends him a moment later, grin flashing amongst the dark shadow of his hat over his face, eyes glinting dangerously; teasingly.

===

“It’s so stupid,” he bemoans, possibly for the third time, maybe the fourth. He hasn’t really been paying attention to how many times he’s complained, but it’s a few. More than one, at least.

“Uh-huh,” Scott couldn’t sound less interested if he tried. As it is, the tavern is almost completely dark around the two of them – the only two people left inside the building. Correction: only awake and mostly sober people left inside the building. “You’ve mentioned it.”

“And it’s your fault,” he accuses, pointing a finger at Scott’s back. He’s cleaning his glasses – all the man does is clean the glasses behind the bar, it’s like he has nothing better to do!

“My fault?” Scott turns around, cloth and glass still held in his hands. “How is it my fault? I made it all to your specifications, Sheriff. If anything, it’s your fault that Red looks so good in that hat.”

“Noo,” he slowly sinks down to the counter, resting his forehead against the cool wood.

“Shut up.”

#juno.writes #red bandit au #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #trafficshipping #solidaritek #team rancher #team ranchers #tango tek #solidaritygaming #solidarity gaming #empires smp #empiressmp #empires jimmy #empires tango

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