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thirteenducks · 6 months

Text

smoke and wine

(diluc x fem!reader) [suggestive, but SFW]

༻❁༺ content: fem!reader (reader wears a dress and is referred to as 'her'), some suggestive content, no established relationship

༻❁༺ word count: ~4.7k

༻❁༺ tags: self indulgent stormfic, adelinde best mother figure AND wingwoman, flustered diluc supremacy, reader does not want to cause trouble for diluc, diluc desperately wants reader to cause trouble for him, diluc wears boxer briefs because i said so, rampant use of ellipses

༻❁༺ author's note: i am back to offer you this with my hands outstretched before i vanish into the void for another six months :/ regardless, thank you for reading! <33 this fic was inspired by this lovely art by @mmmairon https://www.tumblr.com/mmmairon/733185437964926976/hi-mairon-i-love-the-self-insert-comfort-you-did?source=share please go check it out!

Diluc is a simple man. If there's something he can provide, he'll go out of his way to do it. And if that means allowing you to stay at his home for the night during a fierce storm, he'll do anything to ensure your comfort.

Before today, you had considered yourself rather proficient in predicting the weather for your forays into the Mondstadt hills. Experience had given you somewhat of a sixth sense for which afternoons would yield sunny skies and which would leave you huddled under a tree during a downpour.

This storm, however, had truly come out of nowhere.

When your feet finally find the steps of the vineyard path ahead of you, you’re already too drenched to bother running from the rain. Your shoes, unfit for travel through the rain-soaked countryside, leave puddles behind everywhere you step; your dress is so soaked through that it must leave nothing to the imagination.

You shiver, thanking Barbatos that you seem to be the only unfortunate traveler caught in this downpour. At least the grates of the grapevines above you give you some form of cover from the lashing sheets of rain.

Through the raindrops in your eyes, you gaze at the herbs in your basket, their delicate leaves sodden and dripping. Once the storm has passed, and you've returned home, you doubt they will be much worth keeping. So much for freshly-gathered, you lament.

Distracted by your mournful predictions, you hardly notice the dirt beneath your feet has turned to stone and you’re suddenly before the imposing building that dominates the landscape. Above you, lanterns on posts swing wildly in the wind, illuminating the grand wooden door of Dawn Winery.

As you huddle beneath the scant protection of the balcony above, poised to knock, you’re inevitably reminded of the only other time you’d encountered the owner of this estate.

In the many months since, you’d learned which places to avoid in the Mondstadt countryside due to high monster traffic. That morning, however, the abyss mage had appeared out of nowhere in the sunny meadow of sweet flowers, leering at you and your lack of a weapon. You had barely gathered the presence of mind to drop what you were holding and run when the noise of boots, fast approaching, came from behind you. In another second, a blur of red and black had sped by and a gloved hand was pushing you down to the ground. Overhead, a blast of ice meant for your heart had split the sky above you instead.

Before you could regain your wits, the horrible sound of what you could only imagine were the monster’s last words tore through the air and flames, red and deep orange, surrounded you. The blue of the sky above you was ringed with fire.

Pushing yourself up by your elbows, you had scrambled to your feet, fear shooting through you like lightning as the flames licked higher and hotter around your boots -

And then they were gone, extinguished in an instant. Your breaths coming fast and shallow, you had inspected yourself for injuries and found nothing amiss but a few singed pieces of hair.

The gloved hand had appeared again in your field of vision, hovering hesitantly near your shoulder.

“Are you alright? That attack didn’t hit you, did it?”

The voice was low and unfamiliar, and you had followed the sound until your eyes caught a mane of red hair in a sea of black. He smelled like smoke; you could see it emanating off the massive sword he held in his other hand.

“I’m not hurt, thank you. I had no idea this area wasn’t safe...” You murmured, gazing at the now-scorched patch of flowers you had stood so peacefully in a moment before. “I’m so sorry for the trouble, sir.” You offered your hand and name in introduction, and he had taken both with a gentle grace. His questioning eyes alighted on your belongings, dress, and hair before returning to your face.

“Please, call me Diluc. Of Dawn Winery,” he answers, anticipating your question. “I’m the one who should apologize. This one -” he glances down at the ground in distaste, where a few shining leaves are all that is left of the abyss mage - “got away from me last night, and I’ve been chasing it down ever since. Really, it’s my fault.”

You duck your head in gratitude. “Thank you regardless, Diluc. I’ll make sure to avoid this area in the future...” You trail off sadly. This had been the best hill in the area to collect sweet flowers...

His face had changed a bit at your vow, so quickly you might have imagined it, before his handsome features returned to an unreadable expression. The exchange had not lasted long past that point.

“Keep yourself safe,” were his brief parting words, leaving you with a nod before starting at a brisk pace toward the building in the distance.

And now that same building is before you once more. Drawing your bag closer to you in trepidation, you knock, the sound barely reaching your ears over the roar of thunder overhead.

You don’t have to wait long in the harsh wind before the giant door swings open and you’re face to face with the same man from all those months ago, staring at you with his mouth slightly parted. You blink at each other for a few moments, unsure of what to say, until a woman’s soft voice calls from behind him in the doorway.

“Master Diluc? Is there someone out there?”

A middle-aged woman with a kind expression peers over Diluc’s shoulder at you and gasps.

“Master Diluc! What are you doing, keeping her out here in all this rain?” she chides, pushing Diluc’s shoulder to punctuate her sentence, and he blinks as if coming out of a trance. He steps out of the doorway and allows the woman to grab you gently by the hand and lead you into the warm, carpeted foyer. The great door swings shut behind you with a soft thud and you allow yourself an exhale of relief at being out of the storm, if only for a few minutes.

“Goodness, you’re soaked through.” The woman, who wears a maid’s uniform, putters around you, taking your belongings from your grasp and hanging them on a stand next to the door. As she circles you, murmuring with concern, you take the opportunity to explain yourself.

“I’m so sorry to intrude, ma’am, I was just gathering herbs near Stone Gate when the downpour started...” You lock eyes with Diluc, who has not said a word yet. Your resolve wavers, but a drop of water cascading down your back causes you to shiver and you remember your situation. “If it’s not too much trouble, could I impose upon you until the worst of the storm passes?” Your teeth chatter a bit as a draft catches your soaked clothing. “I promise I won’t make too much trouble for -”

You’re cut off by the sensation of something large and warm surrounding you. It smells of smoke and wine and you look up in surprise to see Diluc, now bare to the arm, settling his overcoat on your shoulders. A light shade of pink dusts his cheekbones.

“This storm isn’t likely to pass before tomorrow morning at the earliest,” he rumbles, avoiding your eyes. “Adelinde, please tell Moco and Hillie to prepare a bath and fresh sheets in the downstairs guest room.”

The warm timbre of his voice is tinged with something you can’t identify. Before you can protest, the woman, who must be Adelinde, gives him a nod. She curtsies to you with a smile and takes her leave.

Now standing alone with Diluc, you hurriedly voice your objections and promise to be on your way after you dry off a bit and perhaps borrow an umbrella. The man in front of you, however, refuses to acquiesce.

“You’ll at least let Adelinde feed you dinner, won’t you? It’s quite late already,” he remarks, glancing out the bay window at the darkened sky. “Have you eaten?”

At your dissenting response, he nods as if all is settled. You stare down at your shoes in mingled embarrassment and relief, watching the pools of water sink into the rich carpet.

Diluc clears his throat and moves his hand to hover behind the small of your back as he walks towards the fireplace. “Please, wait here for Adelinde to return. I’ll speak to her about getting you some dry clothes to wear for the night,” he says, gesturing to the couch in front of the fire.

You grimace as you sit, the damp fabric of your dress sticking to you and probably ruining the plush velvet of the sofa. Not to mention Diluc’s coat...

Before you can dwell too long on that, Adelinde reappears with a steaming cup of tea that she sets in front of you. She appears to be in conversation with Diluc about something across the table as you sip your tea, feeling the warmth of the fire seep into your bones.

“It’s awful luck that everything had to be taken in from the clotheslines when it started to rain,” she sighs. “There’s not a dry piece of women’s clothing in the house, I’m afraid.”

Diluc hums in contemplation. “I suppose mine will have to do, then. As long as it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable, of course...” He trails off as he turns to you, his cheeks pink again.

You laugh a bit, good humor returning to your body as the warmth does. “I’ll take any clothing you have to offer, Adelinde. Truly, thank you.”

She smiles, and before you can say anything else, Diluc has gotten to his feet and is already halfway up the stairs. Your eyes follow him as he goes, afraid you’ve said something wrong, but Adelinde just laughs and gestures for you to stand.

“Don’t mind him. The young master’s always that straightforward. Let’s get you into a warm bath, hm?” She starts for the hallway at a brisk pace, ignoring your concerns about the water you’re tracking across the floor.

As the head maid leads you to the guest room, Diluc stands in his own quarters, staring at his bureau with a look of deliberation that a complex military maneuver might inspire. All around him, various pieces of clothing lay rejected. He’s glaring daggers at his pants drawer, which he now realizes contains only neatly folded black slacks and pairs of underwear.

Do I really only wear slacks and boxer briefs?

That’s a question for another day. For now, he lays out his options.

He can’t... he can’t offer you his underwear to wear. That’s out of the question. Few things could be less appropriate to lend to a guest, let alone a pretty...

He shakes his head. His face is burning just thinking about it.

But wouldn’t you be uncomfortable in dress pants? They’d hardly fit you, anyways, so you might have to wear a belt as well just to keep them up... And could you really sleep in them? You’d probably end up shedding them, right?

He shakes his head again before he can go any further with that... dangerous thought.

He huffs. This is going nowhere. He’ll have to bring them both to Adelinde and see what she has to say, he thinks as he descends the staircase with a stack of clothes in hand.

Meanwhile, you stand with Adelinde in the most lavish guest bedroom you’ve ever set foot in. The bedspread, softer than a lamb as you run your hand over it, matches the curtains of the four-poster bed it rests on and the wall behind it. She opens the door to the attached bathroom, where a steaming claw-foot tub stands in the center. The aroma coming from it is like that of the lampgrass you had been collecting that afternoon before the storm hit, and it draws you to it like a moth to flame.

Adelinde curtsies to you and asks you to simply leave your wet clothes by the door and she’ll send someone to pick them up and deliver dry clothes in a bit. With that, she shuts the bedroom door behind you and leaves you to disrobe in the sweet-smelling bathroom.

After so long with your soaked garments clinging to you, peeling them off feels incredible. The water is the perfect temperature as you slide into it, feeling the stress of the afternoon melt away from your shoulders. The soaps next to the bath are thick and luxurious, perfuming the air with a thousand faint floral scents.

You don’t know how long you sit there, half-awake and submerged to the nose in the sweet-smelling water, until a knock at the bedroom door brings you back to reality.

Thinking it to be Adelinde or another maid, you straighten up and stretch your arms. You’d rather not get up and let her in yourself, so you merely call out your permission to let herself in. After all, the water’s so nice, and you don’t have anything to cover yourself with but a towel, anyways.

The door opens quietly and a heavy step can be heard entering the bedroom and shuffling around a bit until it suddenly pauses.

That’s odd. “Adelinde?” you call, rising a bit in the water to peek into the bedroom through the open door. No answer comes.

Furrowing your brow, you move to get out of the tub when the panicked voice of a man rings through the room.

“Wait! Wait, please... Archons, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you were - the door is - ”

It’s Diluc. He sounds more flustered than you thought was possible of such a stoic man.

“I just came to drop these off,” he continues, voice discomposed, and there’s a sound of something being placed on a chair. “Please forget this happened. I- I apologize a thousand times. I’ll, um, wait outside - please, forgive me... I’m leaving now, I swear.”

And with that, the bedroom door closes with a thunk. You’re left frozen, your hands on the rim of the tub, your face a fetching shade of scarlet.

Diluc, on the opposite side of the door, is in no better shape. Not only had he walked in on you while you were- not only had he imposed upon you, but he had completely forgotten his objective of having Adelinde choose your clothing. Which meant, of course, that you were about to walk out of the bath and be faced with an odd selection of things to clothe yourself with.

It’s not like he can go back in and tell you it’s a mistake, though. Diluc sighs and rakes a hand through his hair, willing his heart rate to go down. Idiot. He’s an idiot.

Since the least he can do now is protect you from any further embarrassment, he thinks, he takes up a guard position outside your bedroom door.

It helps to know that at least it’s just him and the maids in the house, so you have no one else to worry about. It doesn’t help to know that you’re currently bare and covered in soap a scant twenty feet from him.

He buries his head in his hands again.

Meanwhile, you’ve removed yourself from the tub and are drying off while waiting for your pulse to return to normal. The towel in your hands is probably the fluffiest thing you’ve ever touched, yet it barely registers in your mind at the moment.

You weigh the ethics of telling Adelinde you’ve suddenly fallen violently ill and cannot come to dinner, but eventually you’ve gathered yourself enough to inspect the clothing Diluc brought you. There’s a black dress shirt, which is softer against your skin than it first looked as you button it up to your collarbone. Like his coat, it too carried a familiar fragrance of smoke and wine.

Turning to the rest of the stack, you’re confused to see a pair of dress pants and a pair of men’s... underwear?

They also smell like him… you think, as you pull them on.

Diluc, still fighting a blush, is leaning against the wall outside your door when Adelinde finds him. A hurried conversation ensues that you don’t catch much of from inside, but it’s clear enough that Adelinde is laughing at her master’s expense.

She knocks, asking if you’re dressed, and waits for your affirmation before she enters. You hold up the slacks to her, a question on your lips, but the head maid puts her hand on yours before you say a word.

“You don’t have to wear those unless you want to. I know they’re far from the most comfortable pants in the world. Besides, it’s only Master Diluc and us maids here,” she assures you. “You have nothing to worry about, dear. It’s up to you.” You return her smile and fold the slacks, passing them to her waiting hand. “Why don’t you come sit by the fire while I set the table?”

Thus assured, you leave the safety of the guest bedroom in only Diluc’s shirt and boxer briefs. Outside, the lord of the manor himself is standing in the hallway with a look of contrition on his face.

He turns at the sound of the door and his eyes meet yours.

It’s fatal. You offer him a smile, hoping to pretend the earlier situation never happened, but you’re met instead with a blank stare that makes you falter. Was he… angry?

Archons, did he think you had let him into your room on purpose while you were undressed? The thought sends you spiraling. This was bad. You have to fix this. You fiddle with the hem of the dress shirt and prepare to apologize.

Across from you, Diluc is fighting an uphill battle with his self control to keep his eyes on yours as you stand before him in only his underwear.

You were supposed to be wearing pants. Not… fuck, you’re staring at him like he has three heads. He has to say something. He has to set your mind at ease. He has to be a gentleman.

Think of Varka. Think of Seamus Pegg. Think of fucking Barbatos. For the love of Celestia do not think of anything else. Now SAY something.

“...How was your bath?”

You blink. “It was… lovely, thank you.”

DO NOT THINK OF HER IN THE BATH.

By the grace of whatever archons are watching over him, Diluc manages to carry a stilted conversation with you in which he apologizes profusely for his behavior earlier.

You do your best to reassure him that it was an honest mistake and no harm was done (except to your heart, but you’d hardly admit that). You soon find that he’s also asking your pardon for the “inappropriate” selection of clothes he brought you, however.

“Please, don’t apologize. They’re very comfortable.” You smile at him and Diluc feels his heart skip far too many beats. “Thank you again for your kindness, Diluc.” Archons, he loves the way you say his name. You’ll kill him at this rate.

Soon he’s falling into step behind you as Adelinde leads you into the dining room and seats you by the fire with a blanket. Satisfied that you’re comfortable, he turns and prepares to return to his study for the evening.

Before he can, though, he’s arrested by your voice, innocently asking if he wouldn’t be joining you for dinner.

“I’m afraid I have… work to attend to,” he murmurs, glancing up to his office. “My apologies. I hope you enjoy- ow, Adelinde -”

The maid in question has two fingers wrapped around Diluc’s ear and is wearing a look of exasperation as she tugs on it, ignoring his words of protest. In a voice that suggests this is a common occurrence, she strongly forbids him from doing any more work tonight.

“Is it not the job of the master of the manor to keep his guests company?”

“Adelinde...”

“Master Diluc.”

He sighs, meeting your eyes with a sheepish look. “It appears that I’ll be joining you after all.”

With that, he settles himself in the armchair adjoining your couch, allowing his large frame to relax into it. A pleasant quiet descends as you watch the fire, listening to the maids readying the meal in the kitchen and the storm as it continues to rage outside.

You’re brought out of your reverie by Diluc’s voice, softer than you’ve yet heard it.

“May I ask how you found yourself out in the downpour this afternoon?”

You smile. “For the same reason I was out the first time we met.” He nods in recognition, glancing at the gathering bag and basket that still hang by the door to the winery.

“So, you’re a botanist, then? Or maybe an herbalist?”

The two of you continue this way, Diluc asking you questions about yourself in a low voice, and you answering them in the same soft tone. You lose track of time in the easy back-and-forth.

After what feels like only a few minutes, a maid alerts you that dinner is ready; you rise and stretch, the blanket falling away from where it covers your bare legs. Diluc pointedly looks away, but you’re too distracted by the lovely smells coming from the table behind you to pay him any mind.

Walking ahead of you, Diluc draws out the seat adjacent to the head of the table and waits for you to sit before taking his own seat. The maids have been busy: a pot of tea, a bottle of sparkling wine, plates of roast beef, green beans, buttered potatoes, and stuffing, a tray of candied pecans, an apple tart, and a myriad of smaller dishes all line the ornate table. For a moment, you’re too overwhelmed to take a portion of anything.

Fortunately, Adelinde appears beside you and asks which and how much of each dish you would like, and soon your plate is as full as it can be.

For a while, the two of you sit in comfortable silence as you eat. The food is beyond reproach. Either the maids and Adelinde have pulled out all the stops tonight for you, or wealthy estate owners eat like this every night. You’re not sure which makes you feel more out of place, but the food is too delicious and you’re too tired to dwell on such things now.

Periodically, Diluc asks how you’re liking a certain dish or if you would like more of what you’re drinking. As the maids top off your glass of wine and you begin to feel the day catch up with you, however, your responses to Diluc get slower and shorter until you can barely keep your eyes open.

Through your lowered lids, you’re graced with the sight of a rare smile as the man next to you takes you in. He stands, offering you an ungloved hand in a silent offer to escort you to your room. You’re too exhausted to notice the color that comes to his face when you gladly take it and get to your stumbling feet.

By the time you’ve reached the door to your room, you’re leaning more on him than you are on your own legs. Offering Diluc a drowsy smile, you bow a little and thank him once again. He returns it in kind, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little bit. He’s never looked more handsome.

“Have a restful night. With any luck, the storm will abate by morning. Please, if there’s anything else I can do, don’t hesitate to come ask me.”

And with that, he leaves you to the plush sheets of the guest room. You’re asleep almost before your head hits the pillow.

You dream of smoke and wine.

In the small hours of the morning, you awake to a cold draft that makes you shiver and a mind fuzzy from sleep. You try in vain to return to sleep, the soft silk sheets beckoning to you, but a peal of thunder seems to shake the house every time you close your eyes.

Sighing, you sit up and rub your eyes. It’s almost pitch black in the room; the sun won’t rise for several hours yet.

Maybe you could make yourself a cup of tea? You shiver a bit, drawing the covers tighter around you. Sitting by the fire doesn’t sound bad, either.

Your feet are quiet on the carpeted floor as you gently open your bedroom door and step into the hallway. Sure enough, there’s a flickering light from the main room; the fire must be still alive in the grate.

You gather the blanket around you and hurry towards the warmth, only to stop short at the silhouette of a figure sitting where you were earlier. You take another tentative step onto the floorboards, but a creak gives you away. The figure stiffens and turns to face you.

Diluc’s face and frame relaxes when he sees you, but there is still a hint of worry in his tone when he asks, “Is there something wrong? Are you warm enough in your room?”

You nod, stepping gingerly around the couch to sit next to him. He shifts a little to give you more space as you pull your legs up beside you. “Everything’s fine. I just went to bed a little too early,” you assure him. “Could I trouble you to let me into the kitchen? I’d like to make myself a cup of tea, if it’s alright.”

“Please, allow me,” he murmurs, producing a pot and a second cup from the table next to him, where he was apparently enjoying one himself.

You sip it gratefully, allowing the taste to linger in your mouth. “May I ask why the esteemed Master Diluc is still awake at this hour?”

He smiles a bit at that and mentions that he never sleeps well during storms.

The two of you watch the flames as you sip your tea, listening to the patter of rain on the roof. Even at this hour, the fire is still going strong. A thought strikes you and you turn to Diluc’s lap.

Sure enough, his vision is glowing, pulsing in a gentle bump-bump pattern that you’ve heard matches the wielder’s heartbeat. It relaxes you to see it so steady and dependable.

Before long, the warmth of the fire and the tea have lulled you back soundly to sleep.

For the first time today, Diluc allows his gaze to rake over you unhindered.

You, asleep on his couch in his manor. Smelling like him. Dressed in his shirt and underwear.

In only his shirt and underwear, the least helpful part of his brain reminds him, and he has to stare at the fire for a while to curb that train of thought. It’s difficult when his gaze keeps flickering back to you anyway.

He counts himself lucky you’re not awake to see how the fire in the grate has grown in size and intensity, or how the vision on his hip is flickering in a wild bmp-bmp-bmp.

After reciting everything he knows of Mondstadtian foreign policy in his head a few times, he’s able to tone down the blush on his face enough to be manageable. As for the familiar, tight ache in his pants, he regards it as a lost cause. For now.

Diluc stands, stretching his arms with a quiet groan before turning to your sleeping form. He gently scoops you up into strong arms and wraps you tighter in the blanket you’re still clinging to, careful not to wake you. As he begins the slow walk to your doorway, a small smile adorns his face.

Upon ducking into your room, careful not to hit your legs against the doorway, he frowns. It’s much colder here than it was in the living room. He’ll have to do something about that.

As he places you under the covers, he unclips the vision from his thigh and folds it into your hand, where it thrums with a gentle rhythm . You drift awake for a moment, recognizing the red mane that hangs over your chest as Diluc tucks in the blanket around you.

Seeing your eyes flicker, he calls your name gently. “Are you comfortable?” You nod with a smile that hurts his heart in the best way.

“Thank you, Diluc,” you murmur blearily, and he laughs a bit. You have just enough consciousness left to decide it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard as you slip back under the blanket of sleep.

That night, as the storm continues to rage outside his bedroom windows, Diluc sleeps better than he has in a long time. Downstairs, his vision pulses in your hand to his steady heartbeat.

You dream of warmth.

#diluc #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x fem!reader #fem!reader #genshin x reader #flustered dilu.......#pls let me live at the winery i swear i'll be good #dilucposting

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autisticbee · 4 years

Text

What, no ring?

Master Frown twirls spaghetti around his fork, the only joy (ha.) being watching the strands break. He's known to be a complainer but this is without exaggeration the worst spaghetti he's ever had, it doesn't even slightly compare to what he and Brock can make at home.

"Dude, are you not gonna eat that?" Brock eyes his plate like it's not too much of an abomination to even call food.

Frown's brow creases even more. "Nope." Without any further words he shoves the detested plate to Brock's side of the table.

Brock shrugs. "It's not that bad, not that good either but not that bad." He shoves a fork full of the discarded meal into his mouth and Frown isn't sure what to make of the fact he keeps thinking about how that fork was in his own mouth a few minutes ago.

Stop being weird, brain. He thinks to himself.

"I dunno why we even had to come here, their food is shi-" Frown cuts himself off realising there are kids at a table nearby and then internally scolds himself for being soft and to stop letting Unikitty, or Brock for that matter, rub off on him. "-Garbage."

Brock stifles a laugh. "C'mon, eating out once in a while is cool, I don't wanna cook alllll the time."

"Well, maybe I do." Frown crosses his arms in petulance. "We don't even have the money for desert, which is the only good part about eating in a stuffy place full of too many happy-dappy people." He glares indiscriminately around the room.

Brock rolls his eyes. "Whatever man, just, stick it out for a little while longer, Okay?" He asks, pleadingly.

Frown keeps his glare for 3 seconds, before heaving a heavy sigh. "Fine. But we are getting dessert."

"What? You just said we don't have the money-"

Frown waves an arm wildly. "Gimme a second, I'll think of something." He has like 2 cents so yeah, he's broke. Could order something then not pay but then they'd get banned and maybe he'd do that on his own but Brock would be pretty peeved off because for some reason he actually likes this place sooooo-

He leaps up from the table, a slightly maniacal smile on his face. "Ha! I got it."

"Got...what?"

"The perfect plan to score free dessert."

"Oooh, fake a birthday?"

"What? No! no one falls for that anymore." Yeah he had kinda used that one to death.

"Then....? Can you kinda hurry up I need to pee."

"Wait, you're part of the plan you can't go yet." Frown reaches across the table and grabs Brock's hands in a vice grip. "Fake. Proposal." He whispers.

"Um, I don't know...how about we just go home now and I can make cookies, my treat!"

"Dude, we could get like the most expensive dessert on the menu! People love all that sappy stuff, especially people who work at restaurants." He leans back into his seat and sticks out his tongue in (faux, not that he'd admit) disgust.

Brock glances at the menu nervously. "It does sound really good. Aren't you worried something like that could get back to the doom lords though, pretty sure that'd damage your image."

"Pffft. It won't, even it did I'd just tell them the truth and we could have a good laugh about it. Look I've been really good with minimal complaining today, can't I do a little something to tip the balance to the other side?"

"Okay, but I'm not taking the blame if they figure us out, this is the only good place we're still allowed into."

"Yeah, sure." Frown loudly screeches his chair back, drawing the attention of various patrons. "Play along." He whispers to Brock before standing up on the chair. "Brock, baby," He pitches his voice a bit louder. "Will you marry me?"

Brock feels unexpected heat in his cheeks and wills it to go away. "What, no ring?"

"Uhhhhhh." Frown rubs the back of his head. "It's...taking longer than expected to get it engraved...?"

"Then maybe you should have thought about that before proposing? Kind of a let down."

"The ring isn't important!"

"Oh wow, if that's how you feel about it I'm not sure I should say yes."

Frown face-palms, willing Brock to remember the plan. "Can we not argue before we've even had dessert." He says pointedly.

"Oh. Oooh, yeah you know what you're right it doesn't matter, so yes, I guess."

"You guess?" This was not working out well, why the heck did Brock have to get so into it?

"I think I'm just still kinda hungry, also I still need to pee and it's making me cranky, heh that rhymed." Brock smiles to himself. "Uh-Anyway, 'course I'll marry you, who else is gonna be by my side."

Frown tries to ignore how that almost sounded genuine, and plasters on a fake smile. "That's great, go to the bathroom and I'll order us something special."

He notices a waiter approaching as Brock gets up and practically runs to the closest toilet. "Hey can we have Ultimate Desse-....oh nooooo, I seem to be out of cash." Frown says in a dramatic tone.

The waiter rolls their eyes. "It's on the house, for the sake of your poor fiance."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!" Frown sulks back into his chair.

By the time the order arrives, which makes Frown cringe at how it must have been prepared for quite a while to come so quick, Brock has come back to the table.

In theory every dessert on the menu mixed together sounds great but in actuality it's a monstrous mix of ice cream and chocolate and cheesecake and bananas and...gingerbread? And jelly and sprinkles and it just...

"Wait, you don't even like sweet stuff." Brock points out, the 'except for my cookies' is left unsaid.

Realisation hits Frown like a brick.

Brock just looks uncomfortable. "I don't think I can eat all this, why did we want this again?"

"I don't know." Frown bangs his head against the table top.

______________

"That was pretty impressive I've got to admit."

"I made myself eat half of it and then I threw up." Brock clutches his stomach as they enter their apartment. "All that mess..."

"Uh yeah! That's why it was so impressive, think of how much longer the person who has to clean that up will have stay after work." Frown tries his attempt at evil laughter, which in the past has earned mocking from his fellow doom lords.

Brock collapses on the sofa. "I can't think about it anymore, I just wanna sleep for like ten thousand years."

Frown fits himself in the gap at the free end of the sofa. "Does that mean I can have the TV to myself?"

"Go for it man, just not too loud."

But Brock starts shifting about on the sofa, which Irritates Frown too much to let him watch tv. "What's wrong with you?"

"I can't get comfy, and my tummy hurts." Brock whines.

Frown rolls his eyes. "Come here, dork."

Brock does as told and Frown motions for him to rest his head on his lap. "Hey that's no way to talk to your fiance." He giggles then regrets it as his stomach jolts.

Frown starts rubbing his stomach, it's not really something entirely out of the usual for them both but for some reason things this have started seeming more and more intense. "...You're never gonna let that go, are you."

"Nah." Brock grins lazily, the motion making him want to sleep even more. Frown's rarely soft with anyone but him and he'd be lying if he said he didn't sorta revel in it. Brock wonders for a moment what would change between them if earlier hadn't been a ploy for free food, what it'd be like if they actually got married. They basically bicker like a old married couple already and they even kiss every night.

Just not, you know, in a romantic way.

They just kiss on the lips every night in a totally platonic bro way. Yep.

Brock leaps up, startled by a sudden revelation.

"Hey what the heck, you need to puke again or something?"

"No! Just decided I'mma head to bed, haha."

"Oookay." Frown stares at him strangely. "Want me to tuck you in and-"

"Nope! I'm good!"

"Thought you couldn't sleep without your nighty-"

"I'm good! Goodnight!" Brock rushes off to his room and slams the door.

"That was weird." Frown stares at the closed door for a minute, feeling oddly disappointed, then he shrugs and turns up the TV.

________________

"Whoa, look at that." Brock points to poster on a nearby building. "Free vacation."

Frown raises an eyebrow, and reads it closely. "Yeah, for couples. And it's a competition in the unikingdom, ew."

"Well...what if we...pretended again?"

"What?" Frown baulks. He did consider the idea himself but wouldn't have imagined Brock being the one to bring it up. "Why?"

"We could never afford something like that, plus you could always like, tell Unikitty it was fake after the holiday and that would make her pretty sad maybe?"

"...I'm listening." Frown pauses in thought. "We'd have to play it up more."

"By play it up more do you mean holding hands orrr french kissing?"

"I don't know! just whatever it takes." The blush on Frown's cheeks could in fact ruin his reputation and he needed it stop like right now, There's no reason to blush about the idea of kissing your best friend on a more...intimate...level like a teenager with a crush.

Because obviously he doesn't have one. "When does this thing happen anyway?"

"In about, twenty minutes." Brock squints at the poster. "How long has this been here?"

______________

"Where the heck is everyone?" Frown glances around the empty gymnasium that was supposed to be the setting for the vacation competition.

"I hear crying behind that curtain on the podium." Said crying abruptly stops.

Frown rubs a hand down his face. "Oh boy."

There's a quiet like the lull before a storm before a pink and glittery blur flies out from behind the curtain. "OHMYGOSH THERE'S ANOTHER COUPLE HERE PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE NOT FAKE-" Unikitty cuts herself off and glances down at Frown and Brock. "Oh it's you two...Master Frown if you're here to ruin this you're too late! Everyone was a bunch of fakers." Unikitty bursts into tears.

Frown groans. "No, we're here to enter your stupid competition, buuuut since no once is here I guess we win by default."

Unikitty's tears stop again. "Whaaa? You guys are TOGETHER? LIKE REALLY TOGETHER?! SO THAT PROPOSAL RUMOUR WAS TRUE!"

Frown scowls. "How do you know about that." Great, now they really needed to put on a ruse.

"I have my sources." Unikitty says mysteriously. "I am sO HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS OH MY GOSH PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME HELP YOU WITH THE WEDDING OH! WE COULD THROW IT IN THE UNIKINGDOM MY PEOPLE LOVE A WEDDING-"

"Uh, Unikitty, the competition?" Brock prompts kindly.

"Sorry, sorry! I can't help it I just looooOve weddings, ahem, I can't just let you guys win, Hawkodile needs to make sure you're the real deal because everyone who else who came earlier were just pretending to be a couple, can you believe it! It's so sad." Unikitty pauses to suck in a deep breath. "But I'm sure you're not lying, I always knew there was a thing between you two." She winks.

"Since when-Ow!" Frown glares at Brock after getting jabbed in the ribs.

"Dude, you'll blow our cover." Brock tries to subtly whisper, despite being a bit taken back too. Sure they're close but did they really give off that vibe? Or was that just because of Unikitty's rose coloured glasses?

"Princess, do I really need to test them? They're obviously faking! I mean, it's Master Frown." Hawkodile gestures exaggeratedly at Frown.

Frown creases his brow. "When did you get here."

"Yeah but it's also Brock! We can trust him." Unikitty looks pleadingly at Hawkodile.

Brock winces.

"Ugh, fine. But they're gonna have to pass the quiz of true love to convince me." Hawkodile crosses his arms.

"That's a ridiculous quiz name." Frown tries to ignore the fact he's started sweating.

"You're ridiculous!" Hawkodile turns his gaze to Brock and points a finger at him. "You!"

"Yeah...?" Brock tries to keep a neutral face.

"What's Master Frown's favourite colour?"

Frown bursts out laughing. "Oh come on that's an easy one-"

"Black?" Brock speaks tentatively.

"WHAT THE HECK DUDE YOU KNOW IT'S BLUE." Frown shouts.

"Wait it is? I just thought black would be your thing because darkness and all that sort of stuff."

"Blue is the colour of sadness and tears!" Frown pouts, aghast that that they had failed on the very first question.

"Hmmm." Hawkodile strokes his chin. "Okay, Frown you're up."

"Huh?"

"What's Brock's favourite video game?"

"Uhhhhh, the dead one 7?"

"Are you serious?! Don't you remember me saying how I had to wait out in the rain to get a hold of dawn-breaker 3 and that it was all worth it because it was the greatest game ever?"

We are not getting that trip. Frown thought, as Brock looked ready to cry.

"Guess I was wrong about you two." Hawkodile speaks.

"You were? I mean, uh yeah you were." Frown fakes confidence.

"Yeah, anyone actually faking would have memorised each other's favourite things too well, like they had only just found out that day, and tried to look like the perfect couple but clearly you guys have some issues."

"No kidding." Brock turns away from Frown with a 'Hmph.'

Unikitty, who had been unusually quiet for the last few minutes, flies around and groups up Frown and Brock into a hug. "Yaaaay, I'm so happy you guys didn't let me down, HEY! If you get married at the beginning of next year you could use this holiday as your honeymoon!!! WOULDN'T THAT BE AMAZING."

"Get off." Frown struggles out of her grip, leading to a short fall to the ground. "Ugh."

"Wait, why did you say next year?" Brock asks in befuddlement.

"Didn't you read the poster? The vacation is for next year! This competition was kindaaaa a last minute idea what with valentine's day coming up and all and it turns out that everything was already booked up for this year...sooo..." Unikitty sets Brock on the ground gently.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?" Frown screams, face down on the floor.

"It's still better than never, right?" Brock laughs nervously. "Sorry bro, I must have missed that part..."

"She did write it in really small print." Hawkodile points out.

"Shhhhhh, thanks for your help Hawkodile! But I need to discuss something with Master Frown and Brock in private please."

Hawkodile squints, turning to leave. "Uh, okay. I'm watching you, Frown."

Frown gets up, dusting himself off. "Can we leave now."

"Hang on." Unikitty pulls out a piece of folded up paper. "While you two were busy with Hawkodile I decided to write down some wedding planning ideas!" The folded piece of paper unfolds into a very, very long list.

"Well, I would really like to hear your ideas, Unikitty." Brock smirks at Frown.

"I should have just stayed on the floor."

_______________

"Did you seriously have to listen to every single one of her hare-brained ideas in excruciating detail?" Frown gestures wildly, standing in front of the TV.

Brock moves his head to the side, trying to see and continue playing his game. "You really hurt my feelings, you know how important gaming is to me." Brock exits the game in frustration as Frown moves to block him even more. "I thought we had gotten better at this communication stuff since...you know..."

"And you know how important misery is to me! You couldn't even remember my favourite colour." Frown glances down at the ground. He knows he's being childish...but he's naturally defensive.

"That's not the same thing, this is a huge part of my life! One day I could be one of those gamers that wins those like huge tournaments and bringing in the big money! And then we could live in a huge awesome house and wouldn't have to worry about landlords, or the rat infestation we can't afford to deal with or-"

"Hang on, you still see us living together even if you became a big shot gamer?"

"Duh! Look we've been faking a lot of stuff but I meant it when I said 'Who else is gonna be by my side', you're always gonna be a part of my future no matter what happens. I just wish you'd support me more..."

The guilt Frown had been pushing down for this entire conversation pushes it's way out at the sight of Brock's sad eyes. "Look...I'm sorry, okay? You're right, I just expect you to go along with my schemes and then I don't support you enough with what you wanna do, I'll...work on that." Frown rubs his arm.

"I mean, you did support with that holiday thing, and there was cheerleading thing..."

"...Maybe, you should do the cheerleading thing again sometime, you were pretty good at it and it could be a back up plan in case the gaming falls through."

A small smile appears on Brock's face. "You really thought I was good at it?"

Frown rolls his eyes. "Uh, yeah. You were awesome. Uniform suited you too-I mean, yeah, pretty good."

Brock contemplates on if he should risk saying something, to test the waters for a whole other kind of thing I wants to ask. "I thought you looked pretty cute in the uniform too."

Frown splutters. "I-I'm not cute! What are you even-Cool and handsome maybe, but cute? Seriously?!"

Despite his protests, Brock notes how Frown's face is turning incredibly red. "Nah, you're definitely really cute."

"Yeah?! Well, you're really handsome, so there." Frown's head screams a chorus of WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING.

Brock stifles a laugh. "Was that supposed to be a comeback? You think I'm handsome? Oh no I'm so hurt." This time he can't stop the laughter and doesn't even mind the pink on his own face.

Frown scrunches his face up. "Whatever! You realise Unikitty is never gonna leave us alone now, it's my worst nightmare." He walks over to the couch and sits down next to Brock, quietly fuming.

Brock coughs to clear his throat. "I mean...there is a way we could stop that happening in the long term."

"Like what?"

"She just wants to help us plan our 'wedding' right? As soon as that's over it'll be back to the usual."

"Which is never going to happen since a wedding is not actually going to happen, how does that help."

"What if it did?"

"What if...what did?"

Brock taps his hands together, focusing on them. "What if we got married, like, for real."

"...You've lost me."

"Think about it, we kiss every night-"

"That's just to get you to sleep."

"-We have baths together-"

"It saves time!"

"-We've even shared a bed before-"

"Look sometimes I just get really cold, and it saves on heating in the winter."

"What I'm saying is, it's already like we're married, and if we were actually married we could get the benefits that come with that too. It makes sense, right?"

"Like one of those platonic marriages? Between bros?"

Brock sighs. "Is that how you feel? I just thought-Never mind."

It dawns on Frown that all the confusing thoughts and feelings he's had for a while now, proved that was in fact not how he felt at all. He'd been trying to deny it the whole time but truth is... "No. I kinda...enjoyed pretending we were together, we didn't do much but just knowing people thought that-" Thrilled him, didn't seem like the right words. "I might be...in love with you or something." He refuses to look at Brock.

"Phew, that's a relief. Pretty sure I'm in love with you too, dude."

"Oh." Still stubbornly not looking.

"C'mon, look at me." Brock reaches out and cups Frown's face, turning him to face him. "I love you."

"Oh." Frown repeats, in a much softer tone. He's not really good with words, more so with actions, he leans in without thinking.

They've kissed many times before, but they were always brief pecks and without overt romantic intentions. Because of that, it's still a fairly light kiss but with more passion, more feeling given into it.

"Mmm." Frown finds himself moaning as Brock pulls away. "That was embarrassing." He mumbles.

"Nuh uh, that was great. I like kissing you."

"Stop, this is already too mushy. Hey, is that why you ask for one every night?"

"Huh? You don't remember?" Brock asks, clearly perplexed.

"Remember what?"

"When were kids, and I had my first sleepover at your house but I couldn't sleep because Mama used to kiss me on the cheek every night, so you offered to do it-"

"Ugh, yeah. You never specified where so I kissed you on the mouth and you said I did it wrong."

"And youuuu said you weren't my mom so 'Of course I'll kiss you different, silly'." Brock mimics the high pitch child's voice he can still hear in his mind.

Frown groans. "Don't remind me, I was a weird kid."

Brock snorts. "Weird adult too. Also really sweet, I mean you're still willing to give me a nighty-night kiss so you're not as bad as you like to make out."

Frown gasps. "You take that back! I'm a menace!"

"Oh yeah, sure. A real menace who gives his best friend tummy rubs when he's sick, kisses him before bed, and who just said he's in love with me."

"Yeah...but you're different, yanno? There's no one I like as much as you, I wouldn't do that stuff for just anyone." Frown recoils at his own words. "Gross, I'm being sappy again."

"Aw, I don't know dude, I like it."

"Can we just go back to the kissing?" Frown pouts.

"Not until you answer my question."

"What questi--Ohhhh." It's Frown's turn to look nervous. "I'm not opposed to it, as long as we have a loooong engagement period, there's no way we're actually gonna have our honeymoon early next year."

"Wait, so that's a yes? You're really okay to jump straight from a blooming relationship to engaged?"

"I'm saying, yes, I will probably marry you at some not yet set date in the future. Thought you'd be thrilled."

"I am! I totally am! Just, if you don't want to you don't have to...I know it's kinda rushing things."

"I know I don't have to, I want to. Is it that hard to believe that I wanna marry your dorky butt and grow old together or whatever."

"We gotta do this right then, and go ring shopping."

"...I don't think you're supposed to do that together."

"I thought you were a bad boy."

"You better believe I am, baby! In fact, maybe we should go steal rings."

"Okay, not that far. What was that you said about going back to the kissing?"

Frown grins as he draws closer. "Now that's a better idea."

#frock #unikitty frock #stormfic #emet warning-

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