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lavenoon · 11 months

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Asterisms (~5.6K)

*An asterism is an observed pattern or group of stars in the sky. Asterisms can be any identified pattern or group of stars, and therefore are a more general concept than the 88 formally defined constellations.

Bloodstain Fool by @naffeclipse, og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic

menace4menace one-shots in order: Falling into Orbit, Conjunction, [You are here]

A bit of a disclaimer/ context: There is another drabble that will be referenced in this one, but I wrote it as a vent when I was in a very bad spot mentally and never cleaned it up, so it's now unfortunately in the "canon to the menace4menace storyline but too raw to share" limbo. You don't need to know the details to understand though (I hope). It does end with another sleepover, so that's where we start off here!

“So, are we friends now?”

You take another bite from your breakfast apple, legs crossed on the couch. Eclipse at his desk tenses, his shoulders rising, and the scratch of his pen coming to an abrupt halt. But he doesn’t turn back, doesn’t spare you his standard glare.

After a moment, he continues writing, as if you never said anything. That’s just fine — you’re too stubborn to stop now.

“Because comforting someone during a breakdown is kind of friend behavior.”

Impossibly, he tenses further. From the way his writing sounds he’ll soon tear through the paper and just start carving onto the desk.

“You were talking nonsense and I simply corrected you. If you interpret that as comfort, that is not my problem.”

You hope he feels how scathing your disdain is through vibes alone as you direct a deadpan stare at his back.

He probably doesn’t know what “vibes” are.

“You invited me over too.”

“And you owe me for that.”

Fine, then. If he insists on framing it as more debt that he’ll hardly be able to collect you can let it go. Otherwise you’ll just back him into a corner of stubbornness, and something tells you he’s the type to double down.

It does mean you spare him the mention of the blanket. A soft red throw currently protecting you from sticking to the leather of the couch. Eclipse refused to acknowledge its existence, much less elaborate on the reason for the new addition to his couch yesterday, and you weren’t in the mood to ask either. The afternoon was stressful enough.

You sigh.

“Okay, sure. You can start a little tally on the back of the I.O.U. note I already gave you.”

Some of the tension leaves his shoulders, and you almost want to sigh again. How exhausting to see everything as transactional.

“No need. I remember.”

The question about animatronic memory dies a quiet death on the tip of your tongue — at the last second you decide it’s not a good idea to imply doubt right now. Instead you take another bite from your apple, and chew. Hopefully you can drop this conversation after. It didn’t really go the way you wanted it to.

Just to make sure it sticks you decide to change the topic entirely.

“What are you writing?”

There’s the softest huff as his shoulders drop further. The defeat is evident, and you press your lips together to keep a grin down. Friends or not, he’s learned his lesson about your stubbornness.

You’ll get him on the friendship, too, sooner or later.

“A report.”

Oh, he wants to be like that. Fine. You’ll play.

“On what?”

The pen stops for a moment, then continues.

“The latest bounty I apprehended.”

“You have to write reports on that?”

In a way, it makes sense — you just didn’t think about it before. But you’re no stranger to writing reports, and detailing the events of how a certain bounty was caught seems reasonable.

Eclipse turns to look at you for the first time, and his expression is about as tired as an animatronic could manage to look.

“Yes. It’s not like the movies.”

You take another bite from your apple as you keep up the eye contact, and then he turns back. Seems like your silence was enough of a concession for him.

Leaning back against the couch, you’re just thinking that you don’t miss writing reports one bit.

“Reports suck. My condolences.”

Eclipse doesn’t stop writing to look back, but you do hear the soft static sound of a laugh.

“Speaking from experience?”

You chuckle softly, matching him. Writing reports and bills - the worst part of your chosen career.

“Yup.”

He hums.

“Is that why you haven’t made any efforts to work again?”

Well, not quite — looking for work hasn’t been on your list of priorities without the immediate pressure of paying for your lodging. An oversight, you’ll admit, given that you can’t rely on your boarded room forever. But without any credentials, without your degree or even an ID you don’t really know where to start, hypothetically.

Besides, even if you wanted to, you know that research has to go through a few more necessary steps before you can consider picking up your former work again.

So you shrug, even though he can’t see.

“Eh, mostly I don’t think my job field exists yet. Caring about kids with learning disabilities was a pretty recent development even in my time.”

This time, the pause feels heavier than before.

“... You worked with children?”

You have no idea how to read his tone. Not angry, you don’t think, but there’s something that you just cannot make sense of. It sparks something defensive in you, even though you can’t tell if it’s judgement coloring his voice. You chose your job for a reason, and you know it’s a good one.

“Yeah, I mean. No one gave a fuck about my problems in school growing up. I didn’t want that for other kids.”

“Hm.”

That’s… It’s not acknowledgement, but it’s also not a rebuke. You don’t know what to make of it.

You’ll poke the bear just one more time.

“You don’t like children?”

That poke went through. Eclipse carefully sets his pen down, and turns his head your way. Just his head - it’s unsettling, and you flinch at the suddenness. You wonder if that was exactly his intention when he narrows his darkened eyes at you.

“Continue this line of questioning and you’ll find that I absolutely will kick you out.”

There isn’t a hint of humor in his voice, nor even a crumb of softness. This time you decide not to bet on that being a bluff. Not with those eyes. You shrink back, hunched on the couch and pondering the nearly finished apple in your hand. Eclipse turns back, you think. You only hear the click of his neck and then the scratch of his pen again.

The lump in your throat grows at the renewed tension that you don’t know how to alleviate. Maybe just a straightforward approach — you did push him too far.

“I’m sorry, I won’t ask again. I just care about them.”

This time, the scratch of his pen only stutters, but doesn’t stop. You’ll take that as progress, even if his tone is still hard.

“You got to be a child.”

You think back to your childhood, and the responsibilities you had to take on much too early. A huff of air escapes as a sigh before you can stop it. There’s nothing you really process as you stare off into space. The smile you manage twitches pathetically before you let it fall again.

“I guess, for a while.”

Still longer than Eclipse got to be one though, to be fair.

This time you sigh on purpose, and extract yourself from the blanket. Folding it is a bit hard with only one free hand available, but you at least don’t leave it as a scrunched up mess. You ramble on a bit, just to put out any metaphorical fires you might have set.

“I’m filing this away as another thing I shouldn’t ask about. I won’t pry, and I get that you probably have complicated feelings about it. I have my own, different ones. We can both be justified. I’ll drop it now. Gonna wash up a bit.”

Without giving him any opportunity to reply you slink into the kitchen, disposing of the apple core before escaping further into the bathroom.

Not a lot you can do in here without your toiletries, and you don’t think Eclipse has a habit of expecting human visitors, much less preparing for their needs. The blanket already was a surprise, after all. You’ll just have to deal with a bit of discomfort until you make it back to your room.

Maybe Eclipse is right. You are awfully curious, and there are a lot of lines you don’t know you’re crossing until you’ve waltzed right over them. He has every right to set those boundaries, and maybe you could learn a little tact. At least you can try. After the unexpected kindness he showed you, no matter how much he denies it, you really do owe him that.

For now you’ll just not mention kids again, and definitely change the topic once you’re back out.

Carefully you reemerge, and assess the situation from the entrance to the living room. Eclipse is still writing his report, focused and quiet, but his shoulders are relaxed. Well, as much as you’ve ever seen him relaxed. There is of course the pure physical difference — maybe he doesn’t have to relax as much as humans do to really feel the effect.

You’ve seen him tense for sure. More often than not, which only exacerbates the thought that he doesn’t know how to truly relax.

Not that you do, either. It’s not rest if you feel guilty for resting, occupying your thoughts with more anxiety, and that’s unfortunately what you keep doing, again and again.

Yesterday, in the park — that was the latest botched attempt to relax for once. And that didn’t do jack shit for your mind until Eclipse came by and poked you until you spilled it all. Kinder than he gives himself credit for, but just as blunt as you needed. Hard to argue that self deprecation is deserved with nearly ten foot of all that glaring down at you and calling you out on your bullshit.

Not that he did in so many words, but his threats were convincing in the moment. Now you’re just left wondering.

Apparently you stare just a little too long.

“What?”

The question is curt and somewhat grumpy — the familiar grumpy, and thus leagues better than the hostile tone from before.

You don’t think. It’s a bad habit.

“Could you throw me?”

Eclipse straightens in his chair, pausing his writing again. You don’t know what to make of that, even with his pointed follow up.

“Excuse you?”

Any other person might agree that you’ve made some very unwise decisions, and this is barrelling towards yet another added to the ever growing tally. However, you’re you, and as long as he doesn’t sound outright hostile you don’t see the harm in elaborating.

“Yesterday, you said you’d throw me in the pond if I don’t shut up. I’m not asking you to, just if you actually could.”

You watch as he sets the pen down, this time turning on the chair to face you. His stare is so deadpan, you’ll need a graveyard for kitchenware stat. Slowly, and without looking away he rises.

That doesn’t bode well for you. On instinct you wave your hands through the air, though you don’t have much hope.

“I said you don’t need to prove it!”

While Eclipse is deceptively calm in his approach, you’re not oblivious enough to believe him. You duck, not quite a crouch, but you’re keyed up already. Your options are limited and you don’t have time to think - and then he’s past the coffee table, and you make a break for it down the hallway.

Hearing him laugh definitely isn’t reassuring.

You’re just reaching for the bathroom door when his hands wrap around your middle, and you screech. Or laugh, you aren’t quite sure. Unceremoniously you’re whipped back, your safe haven back out of reach. Eclipse lets go only for a moment, and only to turn you into a position facing him.

That grin is not reassuring. It might be the happiest you’ve seen him yet.

Before you can even begin to process that contradiction his hands are on you again, and then you’re up.

You blink. Rare enough you get to look him in the eyes on face level.

“Does this answer your question?”

And still he sounds so happy. In a strange way, it makes sense. Maybe. If you think about it — a playful, if extremely short chase that lets him show off how big and scary he is, without any of the risks his job usually involves. It’s not even like he’s holding you particularly tightly. The pressure from his hold is mostly under your arms, and that’s gravity from dangling, not him grabbing too hard.

Just as you think about it, his fingers loosen around you even more. Just a hint, and you are still held securely, but a noticeable change. Before, he felt bad about the bruises he left on accident, and now he’s trying to adjust? Is that it?

And yet, all that combined with his unbearably smug attitude.

You suppress a grin, just barely, and decide to deflect. This morning has had enough realizations and tense conversations.

“... Do I even weigh anything to you?”

The bubble of happiness bursts, and he narrows his eyes again with a scoff. Seamlessly he turns, back towards the living room, and just for a moment you brush your fingers against the ceiling. Also rare enough you get to do that, even in places that aren’t housing a ridiculously tall animatronic.

He ducks under the doorway, and for a second you hope to touch ground again. None of that.

“At worst you’re a burden on my mind.”

The dissonance between the way he’s still holding you and the venom in his voice is too great, so you promptly decide to disregard the latter. Actions over words, or something. And sure, there are nicer ways to tell someone you think about them a lot, but this is the guy who doesn’t believe in friendship.

You pat his shoulder, and close your eyes for posterity.

“I’m flattered. You should have said ‘No, it’s like holding a couple of grapes.’”

When you open your eyes again you’re met with a narrow-eyed glare, radiating suspicion. Also, you have to look up again. If you weigh so little to him, the only explanation is that he wants to be taller. You file that hypothesis away for another time, when you have access to walls to climb on.

For now, Eclipse has caught onto the fact that you continue sprinkling memes into your conversations.

“I’m not saying that.”

He dips you a little lower, and then many things happen at once. Air breezing past you, and his hands no longer holding you up — but you’re not just falling.

No, the bastard did throw you.

The springs of the couch creak as you land on it butt first, and your back hits the armrest at an angle.

“Oof.”

Unaffected by your suffering, Eclipse brushes past you to settle back at his desk.

“Now let me finish my report, or I’m kicking you out.”

His shoulders are lower, again. You smile.

Then, with a soft chuckle, you right yourself, twisting to face him even as he doesn’t face you.

“Actually, can we do it the other way round? I wanna ask one more thing -”

Before you get to finish he’s already turning back, eyes narrow in warning. You throw your hands up placatingly and continue without pause.

“Nothing about you, stop looking at me like that. After that I’ll leave and you have the entire rest of this beautiful day to engage in boring as fuck work stuff.”

Because he did remind you of that issue creeping closer and closer, and you have not the slightest idea how to go about fixing it before it all goes south.

For a sigh, he slumps. A bit theatrically, you want to say, especially when he starts rubbing his forehead in exasperation, too — well, notably, the little swirl, just above his eye. Reminds you of when you did the same, just gentler.

“I feel like that will be a welcome reprieve after your exciting presence.”

Right, back to the conversation. You click your tongue and flutter your eyelashes innocently.

“Ahw, you just keep flattering me.”

If you ever decide to measure how narrow his eyes go, you’d need to pinch your fingers together, and he’d definitely take offense. You’re tempted all the more.

“Ask your question before I change my mind, you menace.”

So he doesn’t mind the question. Could have said so in a few more words, but you’ll take it. After another little dig — you have your dignity to defend. You straighten and level your own haughty scowl at him.

“Says the guy who just threw me on the couch.”

His hand still set on the table tightens into a fist.

“Star.”

Right, the question. You lean back, bouncing slightly on the couch.

“Fine, fine. Where could I work? Without any proof of my existence or education?”

Right now, you’re boarding for free, but your conscience is starting to weigh on you. As ideal as it is, that’s not how things work, and you’ll need a source of income if you don’t want to be dependent on other people’s goodwill.

Eclipse’s expression sours, and his shoulders droop with an overly exaggerated sigh.

“I suppose it’s in my favor too if you get some faked documents. I’ll just need some additional information.”

He really just jumped past a few steps you didn’t expect to be that easy of a hurdle. Then again, his legs are a lot longer, sure it’s easier for him. You can roll with that.

There is no way you’re going to bring your name into this though. If you already get to reinvent yourself…

Or, even better -

“Sure. Can I have the last name Smith?”

“Smith?”

The suspicion is palpable, though he doesn’t seem to get the joke. That’s no problem, you’ll gladly help him out. No ulterior motives at all.

“Yeah! Like the ‘I’m here undercover so I’m picking the most obvious fake name ever’ name.”

His expression tells you everything you need to know about what he thinks of that idea.

You smile, and remain silent. The proof that you can shut up. And if the timing just so happens to also make it prove that you can be a menace even without opening your mouth, well, that’s between you and your steadily growing grin. The moment stretches as Eclipse’s eyes narrow further, and his next sigh bursts with frustrated static as he turns away.

“Why did I ever think you just being quiet would be enough?”

Mumbling to himself he rummages through a drawer, and you sit up on your knees to catch a glimpse of loose pens and papers and paperclips.

“Silence is golden, after all. I didn’t have to say anything to annoy you.”

Words are one thing, actions another. You take the notepad and pencil he holds out to you, and settle back on the couch.

“You’re a walking headache. And here I thought I was immune.”

“You keep saying that, and yet you keep inviting me back. I don’t think I’m that bad, or you’re a masochist.”

Oh, oh and you thought you knew his bad glares. But this one is just a tad too disbelieving — did you really have the audacity to say that? — and rather than doing the proper self preserving thing and apologize, or something, you just snort.

Eclipse has had enough of you.

“Just write down the information you want. If it’s ridiculous, I’m not getting it. If anything’s missing, I’m making up the least flattering filler possible.”

Again he turns back, and you dutifully write down all the info he could need. Your desired name (including the Smith), age, and height - and then stop at the gender. After a moment of deliberation you doodle a little mischievous cat face and carry on. You think your birth town already exists, so you note it down too. What else, what else…

For a minute or two, the room is silent except for the scratch of two pens.

Once you’re done (at least as done as you can be without knowing what information exactly is necessary) you stand up, dusting yourself off just to stall for time. By the time you step next to Eclipse at the desk and hold out the notepad again he too has put down his pen. You shake the pad once before he takes it.

“All done.”

“Good. Now get out of here.”

He stashes the pencil back in the drawer, but the notepad he leaves on the desk. Doesn’t even spare you a last glance before he picks up his pen again. There’s no fight to be won here, so you just snort and step away. Overstaying your welcome is not something you’re particularly interested in, and you’ve already teetered the edge for a while now.

Except you stop at the entrance to the living room, one hand on the doorframe. There’s a lot left unsaid, both because you’re embarrassed still about your little breakdown, and because Eclipse is about as emotionally aware as a rock and pricklier than a cactus. But if you’re leaving now anyway…

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you turn back. Eclipse is still writing.

“Hey, Eclipse?”

“Yes?”

He draws out the sound, clearly annoyed. Woe is him, you haven’t actually left his apartment yet.

“Thank you, again.”

Just like any time before, he stiffens at the expression of gratitude. At least he doesn’t notice your smile in response, given that you manage to suppress the amused huff.

You’re undeterred.

“You’re a better person than you give yourself credit for. Though if I may recommend a different succulent to emulate, aloe would be a much more pleasant alternative.”

He turns on his chair after just a moment of processing your barb, a growl already building up. But before he catches you with his glare you’re laughing, and dipping into the hallway.

“See you soon!”

“Don’t you dare!”

But for all his posturing, he doesn’t chase you again — doesn’t chase you out. After just demonstrating how easy it would be for him, that speaks volumes.

Oh, you’ll definitely see him again soon. Life would be much too boring otherwise.

—

It’s a few days before you see Eclipse again, and by pure chance, too. For once, you’re out and about with a purpose, and seeing a bounty hunter isn’t it.

No one will fault you for a detour, though.

Especially not when you see that he’s talking to someone - a man, wearing nondescript worker’s clothes, and not the kind of work Eclipse engages in. No, this is someone your eyes would simply pass over in a vintage photograph of a street scene, or some sort of group shot.

So Mr. No Friends has other reasons to communicate with people — and you’re just dying to know about what.

Your current position puts you at Eclipse’s back, and that’s where you prefer to be for now. Means he won’t see you until it’s too late, and you’re already close enough to listen in. So you step closer, carefully and quietly, though you make no secret out of your curiosity. With your eyes on Eclipse you creep closer, arms crossed behind your back. You lean forward just slightly, like that will put you closer to the conversation.

And then you get spotted.

“I saw him last around — Sorry, who’s your friend?”

Your automatic smile stiffens as you drop your gaze to the speaker. Those narrow eyes are nothing compared to what Eclipse will look like when he sees you’ve been eavesdropping.

“My -”

Eclipse turns, a wide eyed glare finding you quickly. Think of the devil. Rage simmers just below the surface, and you remember the last time you announced yourself as his friend. Your smile twitches, and you direct a wave at Eclipse’s not-friend. An informant, maybe? That would fit into his broody bounty hunter reputation.

The impulsive part of your brain supplies a feathery Eclipse as a chicken-puddle as he clucks offendedly, and you decide to talk before you start laughing.

“Oh, no, I just owe him.”

Somehow, you feel like his glare is worse now.

Maybe-Informant scowls, then turns back to Eclipse.

“You’re branching out, huh? Anyways, I last saw him lurking around the industrial area, hiding out in different warehouses. Lots of people on his tail these days, might be a hassle finding him in that maze.”

Definitely an informant then. Your curiosity is officially sated, even at the cost of Eclipse once again being mad at you.

“I’ll find him. Keep an eye out.”

He turns so suddenly that you end up taking a step back, to no avail. His hand wraps around your upper arm, though the grip isn’t tight — but his fingertips touch. Just so, and no tighter, and then he’s dragging you after him.

For a second, you contemplate making a show of it. Back of the hand to your forehead, pretend despair at being dragged away. You decide against it, because you don’t actually want to make Eclipse’s reputation worse, and you also remember why he started helping you out in the first place.

So instead, you opt for a wave. It reaches nothing but air. You don’t even see the informant anymore, and don’t get the chance to look around either before Eclipse drags you off into an alley.

At least he starts talking before you get to voice your comment about risqué behavior during daylight hours. You’re in deep enough trouble as is.

“What are you doing here?”

You shrug, the motion pulling his hand up before he lets go of your arm. Not that he looks any happier, but also not like you aren’t used to that by now. You’ve seen him really angry, and this isn’t it.

“Job hunting.”

Nonchalant as the response is, his reaction is the opposite. You’re pretty sure you see his eyelid twitch.

“Job - I haven’t even gotten you your papers yet!”

Alright, maybe you’re just a little impatient. Indignance pulls up your shoulders again, and you pace down the alleyway to gesture at nothing.

“I know, but I got bored! So I came up with a story that will keep most people from asking questions - saying you left Germany as fast as possible at the cost of documentation is apparently very easy to believe. We’re not exactly popular. Now everyone pities me instead of focusing on the everything else, which does play into my hand.”

Eclipse stays and watches you, deceptively calm where you are restless. You trail to a stop and look at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

It comes out almost impressed.

“... You’re more devious than I thought.”

Uh oh, can’t give him standards. You wave off the questionable compliment and step closer again, even if it means you have crane up your neck higher. The distance between your faces is big enough even if you don’t stand half an alley away.

“Don’t give me too much credit. I didn’t think of that lie any sooner, and I had to prepare contingency plans for multiple possible lines of questioning before I felt safe enough to even attempt telling it to anyone.”

A static rumble of a sigh as he briefly hides his eyes behind a hand.

“This is who I…”

Wait, what? You barely understand the mumble before he trails off, but immediately perk up.

“You what?”

But just as quickly he drops his hand, instead glaring down at you.

“Nothing. Did you have to prepare the other lie too?”

He’s lost you.

“What lie?”

You’re not exactly in the habit of lying, don’t even enjoy this one you came up with.

There’s a twitch to his expression, and when he elaborates, his voice is strained. Considering he’s technically always gritting his teeth this is the first time he sounds like it too.

“That you ‘just’ owe me.”

Oh.

You blink.

Break eye contact to look down.

Hide the manic grin growing on your face.

He’s mad because you denied being his friend.

That’s the only explanation that makes sense to you, the only reason he’d be mad about this. At some point within the past few weeks he’s changed his mind from being allergic to friends to wanting to be yours. Sure, he hasn’t admitted it in so many words. He doesn’t need to. Not with this reaction — and that glare earlier that now makes sense, too.

Maybe he hasn’t even realized it himself.

“Don’t come up with a lie now.”

Oh, stars, if he gets any grumpier about this you absolutely will lose it.

“I’m not. I’m trying not to laugh.”

“What?”

You look back up. The grin is undeniable, and your cheeks are starting to hurt.

Eclipse does not look amused.

“You’re mad because I affirmed your broody loner reputation? I assumed that’s what you want, but I’ll gladly call you my bestie next time.”

He physically flinches back. This look you know, and remember well despite only having seen it once - disgust. But you no longer believe you’re a very squishy bug to him. You really, really want to laugh.

“Do not insinuate we are friends.”

“Why is it an issue then if I ‘just’ owe you?”

“That’s -”

You watch him struggle for a moment, shoulders a tense line as he breaks eye contact to scowl off into space. But only for a moment. After all, there’s giving him time to sort out his thoughts, and torturing him by putting him on the spot.

… Though you’re probably doing that already. All the more reason to intercept.

“You want to be friends.”

Now if only you could reign in the smugness radiating off of you.

Eclipse meanwhile looks terribly offended.

“I do not.”

He’s a better liar than you are, but unfortunately for him, he already gave himself away. You chuckle softly, and lean back against the dingy brick wall behind you to cross your arms. The satisfaction still drips from your tone.

"Wasch mir den Pelz, aber mach mich nicht nass."

His eyes narrow. The tone may be undeniable, but still he doesn’t know what exactly you said, and it only irritates him more. You should talk German to him more often.

When you don’t elaborate after a moment, he growls.

"What?"

Your cheeks really hurt now.

"Wash my fur but don't make me wet. I prefer it over 'you can't have your cake and eat it' because I have it to eat it."

The glare drops into something resigned. He’s gotten used to your bullshit then, and is already tired of it. To be fair, you are doing it on purpose, at least partially. Or maybe more accurately, you are simply embracing being a natural menace.

Eclipse grumbles. Somehow, the sound reminds you of a pissed off cat.

"So now you're insulting me in German."

You close your eyes, though that does nothing to diminish your grin. With a chiding waggle of your finger you continue.

"No, I described the situation. If you interpreted that as an insult that's not my problem."

Oh, yeah, you love being a menace. A glimpse back up shows Eclipse’s hands balled into fists and his eyes closed — maybe counting to ten in his head. You hear it’s supposed to calm you down. You wonder if it works.

His eyes are golden and blazing when he narrows them at you again.

"I detest you."

And you’re much too elated to take him seriously.

"You want to be my friend."

Still allergic to the word, his shoulders rise in defense. If he narrows his eyes any further, they’ll be closed.

"I experienced a momentary lapse in judgement. I'm cured now."

And yet, he hasn’t left. Is “shit-eating grin” an expression yet?

It takes enormous effort to tamper it down into something good natured, and shrug innocently. Bat your eyes just to really sell the act.

"Sure. Whenever you want another sleepover just hit me up."

Eclipse’s expression jerks. You drop your gaze to watch his hands, and catch them on the tail-end of unfurling. Instead, he crosses them, and apparently decides to just ignore your offer.

“I have work to do. And you, little Star, want to get out of this part of town.”

You click your tongue and lift one hand up to your heart, fluttering your lashes in adoration.

“Ahw, you care about me!”

There’s that lemon face you love!

“Leave before I lose the rest of my sanity!”

He’s all coiled tension, ready to go off as he extracts one arm to point towards the main road. If you tease him any more, he might just start steaming like a cartoon. … Probably less than ideal as an animatronic.

Better to call it a day here. Placatingly you wave your hands, though you can’t help the soft laugh that escapes with your words.

“Yes, yes. You take your non-breather breather.”

Rather than acknowledge your parting comment he just turns, walking further down the alley. There are other little backstreets, so maybe he plans on leaving that way.

Your cue to go then, too. You’ll take the main road, not because he told you, but because even you have enough self preservation skills to realize that traversing an unfamiliar network of seedy alleys in the late afternoon rapidly turning evening is a bad idea.

But still you hesitate at the crossroads. You didn’t really say goodbye, and somehow that doesn’t sit right with you. Though getting mushy on Eclipse is probably worse than being a menace, so you turn for one last tease.

The narrow walls carry your voice, and all the delight in it too.

“Bye, bestie!”

You laugh at his frustrated roar from deeper in the alley, and dip around the corner. There, gave him enough to chew on.

Let him stew in those thoughts.

#post let luce #dcamv #bloodstain fool #menace4menace #my fic #i am also already 2k plus into the next one so.#self indulgence go brr #im okay btw no one worry bc of that vent #sometimes u cant be nice to yourself but can filter reason through blorbo and call yourself out #i also keep getting distracted from tagging bc i have to do on mobile bc tumblr decided to be a little BITCH <3 #yknow what i can just shut up i do not NEED to tag ramble lmao fsgbj #enjoy <3

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