#laurie's 2/2 not reading my renthubs before they get posted

[tunastime]

i spun a wheel to decide what to request and it gave me 5 so

5 and renthubs?

-your most favorite fluff writer ever/silly

5. Sickly / Sweet (x) (983 words)

Etho flips an egg. It's. It's not working. It's not. It's not the eggs fault that it won't cook right or the pan's fault that it won't cook even or the carton's fault for having three eggs that refuse to cook right. But he can't. The egg is too hard. There's a short breath caught in Etho's chest. He’s not. He’s not frustrated with this. It’s fine. So he puts the egg on another plate. And he cracks another one. There are three eggs on the plate. Bdubs will eat them. Ren will not, but he will be glad they’re made for Bdubs. It’s fine.

He burns his egg.

It sticks to the bottom of the pan and he stands there with the burner off, staring into the charred edges of the egg too cooked and singed. He takes a long breath. He does, he really tries. And then he starts scraping.

He scrapes at the pan to get the egg off. It unsticks but the charcoal is going to ruin the taste so he keeps scraping it. He stands there and he scrapes and he lets his brain fog over and just stands there.

“Etho, hey, good morning, love.”

Etho looks over, but he realizes his mouth is still in a fine line. He doesn’t try to fix it. He turns back to the pan. His mind loops the situation, the steps.

“Etho...hey,” and Ren’s voice gets very soft. Not. Not demeaningly soft. Just, collected. It’s a voice he uses sometimes with him and it mutes every other sound. It quiets them. He hears Ren step over, somewhere in his periphery, the known shape of him. 

“It’s okay,” Etho says in a voice not all there. Ren very slowly puts his hand over his, lets Etho decide whether or not he’s going to pull away from him. He doesn’t. Ren takes his hand between both his own, squeezes ever so. 

Ren doesn’t say anything else. There’s enough in the hands around his own that Etho can make his own sentences. It says something like let me, something like it isn’t worth the strain. So Etho lifts his hand from the handle of the pan, and Ren’s hand drifts to his elbow, still gentle, still holding. When he steps back, Ren keeps him at his side, and Etho stays to rest his chin on Ren’s shoulder. 

“What’s happening?” Ren asks as he wipes the pan out. Etho sighs. His inflection is enough that the question he’s really asking is something else.

“Dunno,” Etho says, pressing his cheek against his shoulder. Ren’s tail swishes, thwapping him in the leg when he does that. He smiles.

“One or two?” he asks.

“One is fine.”

Ren’s hand drifts to the carton. Etho shuts his eyes.

“Promise?” Ren asks. 

“Yeah,” Etho says. He fusses with the hem of Ren’s shirt. “I’ll be okay to eat lunch.”

Ren nods, something he feels more than sees. He feels him kiss the top of his head, just so, before he listens to the sound of egg frying in the pan.

“Hey you two.”

If Etho were to crane his neck around, he might be able to see Bdubs pause in the doorway before he enters. He instead catches a glimpse of him as he rounds his shoulder. He reaches out and Bdubs catches his hand, pausing by his side.

“Hiya, Dubs,” he says, cracking one eye open. Bdubs squeezes his hand.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

Etho shrugs halfheartedly.

“‘M okay.”

“You sure?” Bdubs raises his eyebrows. Etho shuts his eyes again, shrugging, goes to speak, floundering, mouth opening and closing. The answer is no. But Bdubs finishes: “Nah, don’t...don’t say anything, it’s alright. I getcha.”

Bdubs skirts past him, letting his hand go.

“Eggs, love?” Ren asks Bdubs.

“Hm?” Bdubs hums. Etho watches him look over at the plate on the other side of the stove. Bdubs nods. “Sure, sure, I’ll have the leftover ones. I’m just gonna put the kettle on and hop up here.”

“Careful,” Etho says, reaching his hand back out again. Bdubs takes it, bending to kiss his knuckles. He lets Etho let go first.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m always careful,” Bdubs smiles. He sets the kettle on the burner before he hops up onto the counter. Etho sighs, shifting to press his forehead to Ren’s shoulder. The world hurts him a little less, now. Water bubbles in the kettle. It drowns out the sound of the cicadas outside.

“You guys are too sweet to me,” he mumbles into Ren’s shirt.

“Too sweet?” Bdubs laughs a little. “Etho, we’re doing the bare minimum.”

Etho sighs, trying not to sound pathetic. “I know, I just...” He scrunches his face, still buried for the most part against Ren’s shoulder blade. He feels Ren laugh. Thwap. His tail wags. (If he were to look up and over his shoulder right now, he would see Ren plating an egg that’s just over easy enough. And toast, too). Ren says:

“I saw you were getting frustrated,” and shrugs a little. “It’s my job to help.”

Etho huffs.

“Not necessarily,” he says, unsticking himself from Ren’s shoulder. He rests his chin there instead. Bdubs reaches out, poking his hip with his foot.

 “Mm, no,” Bdubs says. “I’m sure it’s in the job description.”

Etho groans, worming away as Bdubs tries unsuccessfully to poke him again. He narrowly evades Ren’s grab at his hip and manages to flounder his way to the kitchen table. Bdubs does grab him at some point, throwing his arms around his ribs and pressing his cheek to his back. He squirms, he really does, but then Ren’s scooping him up in his arms too and he’s being crushed between them. He sighs. He’s an Etho sandwich. His chest feels full to bursting. It’s not a cure-all, but it certainly feels good.

Etho smiles.

“You guys are the worst.”