#skizzb | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

welcome-back-to-hoimycraf · 10 months ago

Text

SO EXCITED TO BE POSTING THIS EEEEEEEEEE

this is my gift for @bigb-enthusiast for the @mcyt-yaoi-exchange! i know there's not enough skizzb in the world so i decided to deliver >:) based on my friend's fic, the boogey!! it's SO good, go check it out, but doesn't have to be read to read this fic! (it helps and gives context, but other than that this can totally be standalone!) thank you to rain @deityoftherain, kai @kaihuntrr, and kai @kaije224 from the yaoi event server for betaing! ALSO. I FUCKING GOT HIT BY THE AO3 WRITER'S CURSE. A FUCKING ONCE IN A LIFETIME HURRICANE DEVASTATED MY STATE WHILE WRITING THIS????? EVEN AS I'M WRITING THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE, I DON'T HAVE ELECTRICITY OR AC LMAOOOO BUT WE STAY SILLY!!!!! THE YAOI GRIND STOPS FOR NOTHING, NOT EVEN A HISTORICALLY DAMAGING HURRICANE

BigB sat at his desk, numbly staring at the unmoving red dot on his computer- the dot that represented Skizz.

Skizz had sacrificed himself- gotten attacked by that thing that had been downing heroes left and right. It wasn’t safe to be patrolling right now, not with the Boogey on the loose. The thing, that mass of purple goop that’d been causing so many missing people and infection cases, was still roaming the city. No one knew what it was, where it came from, or what it could do. He’d told Skizz not to go on this mission! He slammed his fist down on the table, ripping off the headset that still had Phoenix's panicked voice coming through. It was of no use to him anymore. Skizz was unconscious. Skizz had tranquilized himself….

And now there was no telling what would happen to his husband.

B slumped back into his uncomfortable swivel chair, rubbing his hands too harshly into his eyes to stop the tears from spilling. Vague, muffled shouting leaked from the headphone’s speakers that BigB couldn’t exactly make out. He knew Phoenix was trying to talk to him, to get him to help, but the words were all jumbled together. Everything felt floaty. B could barely think through the fog plaguing his mind.

This wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real.

…What was he supposed to do now?

—----

BigB had rushed to the hospital as soon as he was told where Skizz had been admitted. The nurse at the front desk had notified him of Skizz’s condition. Her words still echoed in his mind.

“Comatose,” she’d said. Medically induced. It was the best way to deal with the Boogey’s infected patients that had been admitted, she explained. There was no cure. B had known that long before this. Something in him had still hoped that fact would have changed in the half-hour drive to the hospital. He still felt the numbness washing over him as he was informed.

On top of that, he wasn’t even allowed to see his husband. The nurse had told him that no one was to enter infected patients’ rooms besides permitted staff. That the risk of contagion was too great for visitors. That didn’t make him want to bust down the door to Skizz’s room any less.

The best solution he could come up with was throwing himself into his work. At least working at the Traffic City Hero Agency gave him a way to actually help Skizz. He couldn’t imagine being a civilian who’d lost a loved one to the infection, unable to do anything useful- or even know what happened to them. B was never more grateful to be privy to top secret information than he was now.

His workload was mentally exhausting, but that was preferred. Anything to keep his thoughts from straying to Skizz….

It mostly consisted of desperate research. Double and triple-checking databases of wanted criminals, missing persons’ reports, and infection cases. Something had to lead him to the Boogey. If not… he wasn’t sure what he would do with himself.

The smaller portion of his work was helping Lizzie.

Her and Joel had recently lost their spouse, Etho, to the Boogey as well- which B could grimly relate to. Joel channeled his grief into anger, taking any excuse he could find for field work. Any excuse to get his fists dirty and feel something- even if that usually translated into the sting of wounds and the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. While his methods seemed extreme, it was clear that Lizzie was taking the loss harder.

Etho had been defending her when they were downed. They’d lost themself to the infection for her. B remembered the aftermath, when she had returned from the mission essentially hysterical. He couldn’t blame her.

Etho’s spouses didn’t even have the comfort of knowing they were safe in a hospital bed, asleep and blissfully unaware. They were still out there, somewhere. No one knew if they were hurt- or hurting someone through the influence of the Boogey.

Skizz was out of B’s expertise, but Etho was out of his grasp completely. It wasn’t like he- or the agency, even- could do much to help them. Even if they did somehow find and incapacitate them, what was the point? It’d prevent further harm, yes, but they’d still be infected. B couldn’t do anything to save either of them.

BigB did his best to lighten the burden on Lizzie’s shoulders, but there was only so much he could do. He didn’t do field work like her, which only left the half of her job she did at the agency- and even then, she didn’t let him take on too much.

Lizzie insisted he was working himself to the bone, that Skizz would want him to take breaks.

BigB told her she should worry more about her bloodied and battered husband and her missing spouse than her overburdened coworker. He only half regretted it.

—----

Life was hard, without Skizz.

BigB wasn’t aware of how much Skizz’s ever-cheerful energy truly got him through each and every day. Each evening when he arrived home, the house felt… cold. Empty. There was no life behind the front door. Not anymore.

Everything felt broken.

B fell into the familiar motions of making dinner. Pasta. Skizz’s favorite. He always loved alfredo- loves alfredo.

He made enough for the both of them, purely on instinct. He used to make them at least one meal every day.

The familiarity was nice.

Skizz would always mention loving coming home to the smell of something delicious cooking, and B was happy to give him that. Cooking was a big thing in his family, a show of love and care for those closest to you, and he’d always be more than glad that Skizz loved what he made. The man did his fair share, though, chopping vegetables and washing dishes with nothing but a content smile.

He didn’t realize when his tears sizzled into the pan where the garlic was sauteing.

Skizz’s arms never wrap around his waist. Skizz’s cheek never rubs up against BigB’s neck to tease him with his stubble. Skizz’s mischievous fingers never pluck a noodle straight from the pot for “testing”.

BigB’s dinner tasted rancid on his tongue.

—----

Two weeks in, B had given up breaks.

B’s eyes burned from both the restless nights of sleep and the too-bright screen of the laptop he’d been staring at for far too long. The all-too-familiar ache in his back had returned with a fierce passion because of his near-constant hunch over his keyboard. The dull pain was a welcome change from the numbness.

He couldn’t remember Lizzie coming in, but the sandwich sitting on his desk proved his memory wrong. A turkey club. From his favorite café. B didn’t have to wonder how she knew that information for long- it was the last thing he’d eaten with Skizz.

His husband had barged into the meeting room with a dopey smile on his face, holding a paper bag above his head triumphantly. Skizz’s expression had quickly transformed from accomplished to sheepish when he noticed the debriefing he’d clearly interrupted. Lizzie had giggled at Skizz’s attempt at a peace offering, which consisted of handing BigB one of the contents from the bag.

They had ended up pausing the meeting for a lunch break. Skizz chatted with Lizzie and Zomblaze about their favorite restaurants. B could still see the way Skizz’s eyes lit up when given the opportunity to talk about his husband’s interests. He still remembered the feeling of Skizz’s lips pressed to his temple as he said his goodbyes.

And he still remembered Skizz wearing his hero outfit when he left the conference room- a nasty gash on the pleasant memory, reminding BigB of what would happen next.

The sandwich still sat on his desk, untouched. It had long gone stale at this point. He wasn’t hungry, anyway. He hadn’t been for days.

—----

Lizzie asked him, unprompted , if he was alright when he entered the agency that morning, stopping him in his tracks. It took B a moment to process her question, and even longer to notice her furrowed brow. He followed her gaze to the long scratch along his bicep, dried blood flaking across his skin and closing the wound. B had completely forgotten about it.

He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten it exactly. His memory from last night was hazy, blurry. All he could remember was the scarlet running down his arm and dripping onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor. A clumsy injury while cleaning, perhaps?

He had never ended up bandaging it, too tired to even give it a second glance.

Lizzie snapped BigB out of his thoughts as she took his hand, gently turning his arm over for a better look and taking in the streaks running down it. There were dried drips on his pants. He supposed he hadn’t bothered to change before heading to bed last night- or leaving the house that morning.

“This isn’t healthy , B,” she whispered out. He could hear the way her voice trembled.

He didn't have the strength to meet her eyes.

“...What’s new?” He couldn’t help but scoff.

B was glad they were alone in the small breakroom, he did not want to have this conversation in front of their coworkers.

Lizzie’s pinched expression quickly transformed from worried to determined. “You can’t work in this state, BigB,” she sighed. “I’m taking you home to patch you up, and then you’re resting- whether you like it or not!”

The man barely had time to open his mouth in protest before being literally dragged back out the door. His objections fell on deaf ears, though he didn’t know what else he expected. He knew Lizzie well enough to know that once she was set on a goal, she’d never stop until it was achieved.

Her and her spouses’ home wasn’t far, it was much closer than his and Skizz’s. B vaguely remembered overhearing a conversation in the break room a few years ago- something about when the Honeybees were buying their first home together. It’d been not long after the three got married, if he recalled correctly. They’d picked the house for its proximity to the Agency, apparently.

…He couldn’t remember where he was going with that.

Their house was almost as suffocatingly empty as his, now, though. Lizzie had lost Joel as well, almost a week after B had lost Skizz, and about two weeks after Etho. Heroes were dropping like flies all around the city due to the Boogey. No progress had been made to find them.

He felt bad, of course, but it wasn’t like there was much he could even do. He didn’t do field work, and Lizzie’s spouses’ trackers had been destroyed soon after they’d gotten infected. They’d left little to no evidence as to their current location.

He couldn’t help them- just like how he couldn’t help Skizz...

Lizzie led BigB up the stairs, mentioning something about a med kit. He didn’t hear it over the anger bubbling in his ears.

He couldn’t save any of them.

Of course he couldn’t.

"I don't need your help, Lizzie," he couldn't keep from sneering out, ripping his hand from her grasp. Latent rage boiled in his chest. He was a grown man, he could handle himself! He didn’t need Lizzie to take him home and clean him up like she was his mother!

She gripped the bannister, turning to face him with the same stubborn expression he'd seen on her countless times in front of her spouses. "Yes, you do need my help, BigB." He could feel her eyes falling to the long cut along his arm. He quickly moved to cover it. "We both need help. We need all the help we can get."

B suddenly found the stairs beneath his feet extremely interesting.

Lizzie sighed, her tone softening. "...Listen," she stepped down to his level, gently taking his hands in hers. He still couldn’t meet her eye. He didn’t want to. "We're both going through a hard time right now. It’s not good for us to push people away in our states- especially each other.” B’s heart broke slightly at the small crack in her usually strong, if a little uncertain, voice.

He surprised himself when a watery laugh escaped his lips. "You may be right, but that doesn't mean I like to admit it."

“I’m usually right.”

B could hear the weak grin in her tone.

The rest of the walk to the bathroom was draped in a slightly awkward silence, neither one able to look the other in the face. B couldn’t think of anything to say. What exactly would he say? ‘Yeah, sorry about your spouses possibly being gone forever- my husband is, too!’

That didn’t seem like a good conversation starter, did it?

“...Do you want to talk about it?” Lizzie asked quietly as she bandaged his wound. He couldn’t remember sitting on the toilet lid, nor his coworker pulling out the medical supplies. The world had started to blur out a long, long time ago.

“No.” Even though BigB knew she would understand, he couldn't. He couldn't talk about it without breaking down. He had a mask to hold up, even if she'd already seen it crack.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to put it back up if it came down.

She seemed to let the subject drop.

Lizzie ended up leading him to her room and forcing him to sit on her bed once he was all bandaged up, demanding he finally get some sleep. He was too mentally weak to protest.

She turned to leave the room when given no response, but was stopped by a hand grabbing her arm. She struggled to slip out, but B’s grip on her elbow didn't waver, though he did loosen it so as to not hurt. "If I’ve gotta take a sick day, you do too," he grumbled, and Lizzie could already see his eyes drooping.

Her eyebrows furrowed together. He’d seen that too many times today. "No, B, I can't. I've got to make progress on this case, I-" Before she could let out another half-baked, hypocritical excuse, Lizzie was dragged forward onto her own sheets.

"Nope!"

She sat up quickly, her fists balled into the honeybee-embroidered blankets. “If I find this monster, I can bring our spouses back-“

BigB finally sighed, looking her in the eye for the first time since that morning. Her rambling, uncontrolled train of thought was way too similar to his own. He’d spent days convincing himself that he should give up his needs in favor of doing anything he could to help Skizz, but he knew it wasn’t good for him. He knew, yet he couldn’t gather the courage to stop. At least, not on his own. “We can’t help them if we’re exhausted… no matter how much I don't like to admit it... we've gotta take breaks, Liz."

She giggled wetly after a moment, relaxing back into the pillows. "Are we gonna ignore this advice and go right back to the unhealthy habits once we wake up?"

BigB's smile was strained as he responded. "I expect nothing less."

—----

B jumped at the loud bang sounding throughout the empty conference room. His head shot up to find Lizzie standing across the large table from him. She’d dropped a large stack of papers on the wood, looking pretty proud of herself.

It was pretty weird that he hadn’t noticed her come in- he must’ve been caught up in his work. Where the heck did she come from?

“This is all the info I’ve found on the Boogey so far,” she explained, rolling a chair back and plopping down. The hero kicked her feet up on the table confidently, which put a slight smile on B’s face. He didn’t realize how much he missed Lizzie’s big ego.

“Seems like a good place to start,” he hummed, leaning over to drag the pile to his side. “Though, most of this will probably be stuff I’ve already looked over- no offense,” he sighed, twirling the end of his pen between his teeth in concentration.

Lizzie shrugged. “None taken. You’re probably the nicest supervisor I’ve ever had,” she snickered.

BigB let out a bit of a half-laugh to let her know he’d heard her quip, though most of his attention was absorbed by the information he’d been given. He was right about it being a good chunk of stuff he’d already seen, either from looking over other people’s research or from doing his own. One did catch his eye, though.

“There’s been more sightings?” B raised an eyebrow at the police report detailing some civilian’s story about purple sludge and a suspicious figure. Seemed to be in some part of town that had been abandoned a long time ago. If he remembered correctly, it had been evacuated due to a gas leak and never fully recovered. Most of the buildings had been left to rot.

Lizzie nodded vigorously. “I’ve been triangulating sightings to try and pin down a possible headquarters of the Boogey- or wherever it may have come from. If it’s a lab experiment like some are theorizing, it could be returning to where it was made after its prowls!”

B’s eyebrows raised. “I… never thought of doing it that way before….” Gears were already turning in his head, half-formed ideas of how to use this information surfacing in his mind. He tapped his pen against the table rapidly with his success. “Lizzie, you’re a genius!”

The hero grinned with a faux confidence, though he found a hint of genuine pride in herself at his words. “You know me- genius of the agency!” She giggled.

He stood up quickly, shutting his laptop and grabbing the documents he needed. “Do you mind if I take some of these?” He looked back up to his coworker, holding up a few of the papers he planned on snatching.

Lizzie shook her head, though her eyes were slightly wide. “Take all you need.”

“Thanks-” B barely got the word out between his racing thoughts. He gathered all of his items and headed out the door, making a beeline straight to his office. This could be a breakthrough.

—----

He woke up in the hero agency.

It was way too warm in the small, cramped room he was given years ago. Something about a "promotion" that gave him no better pay and a shit load more to add to his plate. Light streamed in between the closed blinds from the sole, tiny window at just the right angle to hit his eyes.

B didn't remember falling asleep.

His laptop had been closed at some point, which he assumed was done by someone else. His suspicions were confirmed when he spotted a water bottle left on his desk. The sticky note on it read, ‘Hydrate or Diedrate! -Z’

B wiped a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth, a smile creeping across his lips. Zomblaze must’ve stopped by after he’d fallen asleep. She didn’t like to admit it, but she cared about the people at the agency- Well, some people at the agency. BigB supposed he’d been added to their list.

He ran his fingers along the fabric falling from his sides. That was new.

A blanket had been draped over his shoulders while he slept. It was covered in embroidered honeybees.

—----

BigB’s heart was beating out of his chest.

His leg bounced up and down furiously with his pent up anxiety. Lizzie, Zomblaze, and that vigilante, Phoenix, they’d recruited had just left the conference room- leaving him with the biggest breakthrough of his career.

They’d identified the Boogey. A young girl named Gem, the profile had said. She was, quite possibly- very possibly, his way of getting Skizz cured.

The idea seemed too good to be true.

Zomblaze and Lizzie had gone out to track down Gem’s brother, Scott, and get any information they could about helping her. From what the trio had recounted, it sounded like she had been infected herself rather than being the cause of the infection.

B’s mind was racing with possibilities.

Having Skizz back might be closer than he thought.

—----

Zomblaze had burst into the conference room, making BigB shoot up from his chair. “Do you have any information?” He couldn’t help but shout. Volume control was the last thing on his mind at this point.

She nodded quickly. “I have terms for a compromise.”

B’s memories blurred after that.

He’d agreed to Scott’s terms with barely a second thought. They seemed reasonable enough, and he was desperate- anything to see Skizz again- hell, he’d probably risk his own life if that meant Skizz would be safe. His thoughts were racing. He hadn’t been this close to having his husband back in weeks- he’d begun to lose hope.

Hours of paperwork, discussions, and frantic texts with Zomblaze turned into one big blend of moments BigB had already started to forget while he was experiencing them. Only one thing remained a constant in his thoughts.

Skizz.

He drove to the hospital Gem had been admitted to the next day (Was it the next day? He wasn’t sure anymore). B was sure that driving in his weird, trance-like state definitely wasn’t safe, but he ignored it. Skizz was so, so close- He couldn’t give up now.

Flashes of front desk nurses and sterile, white walls swam through his head before finally becoming a clear image of the door to the room Skizz was being kept in. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the handle, hesitating for a brief moment as it hovered over the doorknob. Why was he nervous? Scratch that- he knew exactly why he was nervous.

What if they couldn’t cure him?

What if they couldn’t save him?

What if he–

Gem being admitted to help with the infection came with no guarantee that any of her victims could be saved. That any of them could survive. There was always the possibility that attempting to cure them could just as well kill them. It was all up in the air.

B took a deep breath, the nurse’s gaze on his back burning into his very being, and opened the door.

The room was dim, barely any light besides the faint blinking and screens of machinery. The distinct rumble of a ventilator filled the room, accompanied by the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor.

And there, in the middle of it all, laid his husband.

It was hard to recognize him beneath the large amount of purple goop pulsing over his skin, but it was definitely Skizz. BigB could recognize that tousled hair and unkempt beard anywhere. The familiarity almost buckled his knees, but he held strong. He had to be strong.

He wasn’t sure what else he could be.

—----

It had taken a few hours for news to arrive, but B had never been more relieved.

Gem had been brought to a stable enough condition to start ridding patients of infection. The nurse had said that they were prioritizing healing heroes first, and B almost cried with the weight that lifted itself from his chest.

Skizz would be okay. Just a bit longer.

BigB got his first look at Gem besides her outdated profile when she entered the room. She looked awful, which he couldn’t blame her for. Being the main infected for so long had practically turned her into a walking corpse. Her cheeks were pale and sullen, and her orange hair was so brittle it looked like it could be snapped in half. B’s heart went out to the poor girl.

Skizz’s healing process was… horrific. But when it was over… there he was. His husband, conscious and breathing and alive, sat right in front of him. It took everything in B’s power to keep himself from trembling with relief in front of the love of his life.

He was able to keep his mask intact when Skizz panicked over the IV, his fear of needles kicking in as strong as ever- even after almost dying. He was able to keep his mask intact when the two were left to reunite and just be together after so long. He was able to keep his mask intact when they picked up their usual banter on the way to the parking lot only an hour and a half later, thanks to Skizz’s inhumanly-fast immune system.

He had to stay strong for Skizz.

Skizz was the one who had gone through this, not him. If anyone should break down, it would be his husband. He had to be there to support him if needed.

They kept up idle conversation on the drive home, B catching Skizz up on all he missed while hospitalized. It was so familiar, yet so unfamiliar all the same. Skizz’s crooked smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, even the stupid, loveable way he talked- it was all too much. The moment didn’t seem real. The casual domesticity he’d missed so much had just been… returned to him so nonchalantly.

He almost expected the universe to be pulling a trick on him- that he’d look to his right and find Skizz gone again.

But he was right there with him the whole drive home.

—----

Skizz was still there when he woke up in the morning.

Having him back was... weird.

BigB hated to admit to himself how used to living without his second half he’d gotten. Waking up every day to an empty bed and a cold home became his new normal, after a while.

Skizz did his best to hide how he felt, but BigB could always see right through him. Skizz felt guilty. Guilty for leaving his husband behind to pick up the pieces. Guilty for not being there when B needed him most. He'd always put too much on himself, his heart too big for his own good.

B could tell that Skizz was still tired, despite what he said about his powers making it better. He'd been home for a few days, and his recovery was still in the early stages. He couldn’t walk long distances, and manual labor was out of the question. Skizz insisted he was fine, but the deep eyebags he fostered said otherwise.

B didn’t blame him for being practically bed-ridden, but something in him was… resentful. He longed for normalcy. He wasn’t bitter at Skizz, gods no, just at their situation. He prayed for his husband to have a fast recovery.

—----

The sweet, chocolatey scent of BigB’s favorite cookies, a fragrance he could always pinpoint, was a nice surprise when he walked in the door after a long day at the agency. Something seemed… off about it, though. Almost… sour? He quickly shrugged his shoes off by the door, padding over to the kitchen to peak inside.

Skizz sat on a bar stool in front of the counter, facing away from the doorway. He was hunched over something B couldn’t quite make out, muttering to himself. Both he and the kitchen were dusted in a thin layer of debris from what BigB assumed was a baking fiasco. A tray of misshapen, over-cooked “cookies” sat on a tray atop the oven, still steaming (or smoking, rather).

“Skizz?” B asked softly.

The man in question jumped, swearing in shock, and turned to face his husband. “B- Boppers! When’d you get here? I didn’t hear you come in,” Skizz rambled out, frozen like a deer in headlights. It was obvious he’d been trying to surprise B with his favorite cookies, but it hadn’t worked out. He found it strange, though. Skizz had perfected that recipe years ago, hadn’t he?

BigB made his way over, placing a hand on Skizz’s shoulder to rub circles into the skin there. “Just got home,” he hummed, twitching the corners of his lips up into a soft, if not tired, smile. “Whatcha makin’?”

At his question, Skizz visibly deflated. “Well, I tried to do something nice for you and make your favorite cookies,” he nodded toward the open cookbook he’d been scanning. “Thought I couldn’t screw it up,” he sighed, rubbing a hand across his face, “but it all fell through,” Skizz admitted in a mutter, hanging his head. “Had to resort to pulling out the recipe book to remember how to do it right. Turns out I just made you charcoal!”

B got a good chuckle out of that remark, at least. “I don’t mind, hun,” he promised, running his fingers through Skizz’s untamed, wild mess of hair. “We can just make more- together this time.”

“Back hurts,” his husband whined, pressing his head into BigB’s chest.

B’s eyebrows furrowed. “When did that start?” This was new- part of Skizz’s recovery journey after being comatose for so long. It was concerning to say the least, considering Skizz’s powers, but neither of them had yet to bring up their worries.

“After I’d been in here cooking for an hour,” Skizz mumbled, letting out a mirthless chuckle. “M’ back and feet still hurt, even after I sat down.”

“That's okay, baby, the thought was enough.” BigB leaned down to press a kiss against Skizz’s crown, smoothing out his flyaway hairs. “How about we just get cleaned up, yeah? I’ll deal with the kitchen, you go take a shower.”

Skizz hesitated for a moment. “I-....” He paused, sighing. “I took my ring off to bake, but I can’t find it anymore,” he admitted. It sounded like he was almost worried, as if BigB would be mad at him for losing his ring.

That was concerning.

B hummed to himself for a moment. “That’s alright- wanna look for it while I start cleaning up?”

With Skizz’s nod as confirmation, the two split to do their parts. BigB took to dumping the unsalvageable lumps of borderline ash that were supposed to be cookies. He was tempted to make a joke about the state of them, but decided now wasn’t the time. Skizz was obviously upset, and there was no need to make it worse.

He’d just started to get the water going for doing the dishes when Skizz’s frustrated muttering emanated from the other side of the kitchen. B glanced over to his husband. “You alright?”

The man groaned in annoyance. “I can’t find this stupid thing!” He stood up from his hunched position where he’d been checking under the counters, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.

B set the dirty mixing bowl in the sink, turning off the water. “Want me to help look for it? You can go-”

“I don't need help- I can do this myself, I'm not an idiot!" Skizz snapped, his hands splayed against his face in the way that told BigB that the situation had really upset him.

Almost as soon as the words had come out of his mouth, his husband was already apologizing. “...I’m sorry, B, I didn’t mean to yell at you.” Through his shame, Skizz made his way over so he could wrap his arms around his partner’s waist and bury his head into the nape of B’s neck.

BigB squeezed Skizz tight around the shoulders, making sure not to touch him with his hands, still dirty from the dishes, and rest his chin atop Skizz’s head. “It’s alright, baby, you’re frustrated. You’ve been upset with your recovery, you’re not used to it. I understand.”

Skizz took a deep breath, pulling back to look BigB in the eye, even through the tears he was trying to blink away. “I…” His words faltered for a moment before he took a deep breath and picked back up where he’d left off. “I felt bad for not even being able to do something simple for my husband after all you’d done for me. I know this recipe is important to you, and I wanted to make it as… as an apology for being gone.”

A silence settled over the kitchen with the admittance. If B’s heart hadn’t shattered before, it definitely had now.

BigB blinked away tears of his own. He cupped Skizz’s face, ignoring his dirty, wet hands, and pulled the man into a fierce kiss he hoped conveyed all the reassurances he could muster. It was sweet and chaste, and when he pulled back he ran his thumb along Skizz’s cheekbone. “You’re too sweet,” B whispered, a watery laugh escaping his lips. “Now, let’s go start that bath, ‘kay?”

—----

Their bed had never been more comfortable. Something about not noticing things until they were gone, something BigB was far too bad at poetry to explain. He didn’t need poetry to simply bask in the love spilling from every part of his being, though.

He and Skizz were sat up beneath the covers, B rubbing his husband’s shoulders. Skizz had mentioned something about them being sore from his cooking earlier as they crawled into bed, and BigB happily suggested to help. Skizz had always said he gave the best massages, anyway.

“...I missed this,” he murmured, half asleep, into the back of Skizz’s neck. He hadn’t even realized he’d started talking before the words came out of his mouth.

Skizz was silent for a moment, probably expecting that B would continue, but decided that wasn’t the case. “Wanna elaborate, hun?” He asked, and BigB could hear the smile in his tone.

B hummed to himself for a second, trying to form his words in his foggy, sleep-clouded brain. “I… I missed just this- this domesticity,” he sighed, struggling to come up with the right phrasing. “Something simple, like this quiet night where we’re just… together.”

Skizz shifted to face him, taking BigB’s hands from his shoulders to hold in his own. “Aw, I missed you too, sweetheart,” he cooed, cupping B’s face and pressing their foreheads together. His tone was light, yet his words brought a heaviness to the air that hadn’t been present before. A heaviness that held all the unspoken apologies, explanations, and conversations too hard to bring up between them.

Now that the topic had been broached, BigB was urged to keep going. There was an opening he could finally fill. "I-I missed hearing your voice... it would get so lonely hearing nothing but my own lungs-" His voice wavered, and he could feel Skizz’s arms moving to embrace him in one of his signature bone-crushing hugs. “You weren’t there to- to pick me up after bad days, or make me smile. Everything was so empty without you- Just- gods, I missed you so much, Skizz.” B surged forward, wrapping Skizz as tight as he could around his middle, almost as if he was scared of losing him again. He couldn’t lose him again- he couldn’t, he couldn't, he couldn’t-

A moment of heavy silence passed between them before Skizz spoke again, "...I may have been the one infected, sweetheart, but you were the one who had to live with it. Your suffering isn’t negated because I'm struggling too.”

Something in BigB broke at that, the tears finally flowing freely. Years worth of effort to build up a perfect mask of calm collectedness, broken with just a few kind phrases. Was it unfair, or had it been a long time coming?

“This isn’t my battle to fight, Skizz,” he choked out in reply, pulling back and taking in the man’s concerned expression. “You were the one who was injured, not me. You were the one affected by this. You still are.”

Skizz reached a hand up to wipe away some of the wetness from B’s face, blinking rapidly himself. “That’s not true.” His usually strong voice came out a whisper. “I was asleep the whole time, for goodness sake. If anyone’s taken this hard, it’s been you, B. I may be dealing with the after-effects, but you had to deal with the grief.”

B couldn’t even respond, his ability for speech taken over by heavy sobs. Skizz was right, though, wasn’t he? BigB had been denying himself the ability to grieve through his belief of not deserving it- all of his pent up emotions finally breaking through his carefully crafted dam.

Skizz took his heaving as an acceptance, running a careful hand through BigB’s hair. “It'll be difficult, Boppers, I know it is, but I love you and I’m here for you. We can heal from this trauma together, okay love?"

Together.

They were together.

After all this time, maybe, maybe things would be alright.

They had to be alright, after all.

They had each other.

And that’s all they needed.

#fanfic #my fanfic #trafficfic #bigbst4tz2 #skizzleman #skizzb #trafficshipping #gift fic #gift exchange #mcyt yaoi exchange

29 notes · View notes