Ooo for the song thing, #58?
Ough this one </3
This is gonna be past!Scarian and current!Redscape so. Ye not part of any current/public AU <3
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Some days Scar wonders if he'll ever be alright again.
Letting Grian go was the hardest thing he'd ever done, and even now waking up alone in what used to be their apartment feels... wrong.
Lonely.
When he wakes up to the blaring alarm he stares at the ceiling far longer than he used to.
(He remembers Grian used to wake him up.)
He gets up and wanders into the kitchen, empty and cold save for the little cat bowl sitting on the floor.
(There used to be three.)
He makes breakfast and sets a plate on the table, and he eats with the sound of the TV in the background.
(He used to talk to Grian while they ate together.)
This is how his days pass; he walks to work, remembering how he used to walk with Grian, and at work he takes his lunch, during which he used to call Grian, and then he goes home to his empty house, devoid of the vibrant, lively Grian who used to greet him.
Every day passes like this.
At least, they used to. Nowadays, Scar finds that old routine being broken in the best way possible.
"Hey, Scar."
Scar turns around, blinking as he finds himself looking at Mumbo. Instantly the coldness that had taken root in him fades, warmth and excitement filling its hollow place. Even the sun shines a little brighter as he stops, waiting for the other man to catch up to him.
"Mumbo!" he greets, grinning brightly. His heart flutters as Mumbo reaches out to take his hand, and Mumbo smiles back at him, and all Scar thinks about is Mumbo.
"Where to today then, love?" Mumbo asks him, and Scar hums.
"Y'know, I think today I'm up for anywhere," he decides, swinging their clasped hands between them. "Long as it's anywhere with you."
When Mumbo joins him in the mornings, Scar knows everything is going to be just fine.
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"Alright, here we go!" The bartender announces, leaning up to place the drinks on the bar.
"That's one whiskey, neat—" He says, sliding the lowball cocktail glass with amber liquid in front of Eddie.
"—And one Whammin' Slammin' Booty-Bangin' Pina Colada."
He places the extravagant cocktail in front of Steve. It's decorated to the nines with a straw, an umbrella, a piece of pineapple, and a little bit of tinsel on a toothpick. A whole party decoration in a drink.
"You guys have a good night." The bartender says warmly, already moving down the bar to tend to other customers.
Eddie stares down at the whiskey in the glass before him and pouts a little. Beside him and watching his boyfriend closely, Steve rolls his eyes.
"Oh, quit being dramatic," Steve says, sliding the cocktail across the bar so it's in front of Eddie, who had ordered it. He steals the glass of whiskey back at the same time.
"It happens every time."
"It happens most times."
"That isn't much better!" Eddie protests, even as he leans down and takes a long sip from the straw while they both get to their feet and leave the bar. Steve's hunting for a table they can snag, his eyes narrowed in focus. Eddie follows him blindly, his cocktail cupped in both hands.
"I'm serious, Steve! What is it about this adorable face—" He says, gesturing to himself, barely letting go of the straw to talk. It doesn't seem to faze him that Steve doesn't even glance back. "—Says I don't want to enjoy a Whammin' Bammin' Big Booty Colada?"
Steve comes to a stop, pausing his search for a moment to look back at Eddie. His expression seems unimpressed on the surface but Eddie can see his lips twitching up at the corners.
"We've had this conversation too many times, babe." He sighs halfheartedly and takes a quick sip of his own whiskey, eyes casting back out across the bar. "You have scary dog energy, you know this. You specifically dress like this on purpose."
Eddie picks up the pineapple wedged on the edge of his glass and bites into it, sending it down with another sip of his cocktail as Steve leads them further into the back of the bar. He finally spots a spare empty table.
"C'mon, I think I found one." Steve urges, one hand snaking back to make sure Eddie's following.
"Is it a crime to wish to not fall victim to stereotypes?" Eddie prattles on, following Steve duly by slipping his hand into Steve's outstretched one. His cocktail wobbles precariously as he takes another gulp.
"Like when that waitress gave me your awful black coffee! And you got my delicious delicacy that I paid extra hard-earned money for..."
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i like to think that when steve and eddie go out, people always lean into their assumptions and are like hmm ok preppy boy with the polo? oh he gets the fruity cocktail! and eddie is always like >:( i don't want this expensive puddle of piss gimme the bonanza supreme cocktail pls. like excuse me i paid for that.
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