All Rangavar wants to do is get to the bottom of the mystery at the research facility, but a bit of magic may get in his way. All Arro wants to do is eat, but the plot may get in his way. Rangavar and Arro will have to work together if they want to defeat this mess.

Another Plot-Based™ chapter. That also means that the word count per chapter is going up, and also the paragraphs are getting fatter. Maybe that is the true weight gain story. The plot was the one thickening all along.

Also multiple, separate people keep referring to Jethe very specifically with the word "spooky" and I'm so here for it.

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Kill, Marry, Fuck
Chapter 22


Jethe didn’t let go of the front of Rangavar’s jacket, holding him roughly against the shelving. The array of books, folders, and other miscellaneous paperwork jutted sharp and unevenly into his folded wings. Leaning close to Rangavar’s face, Jethe growled, “What were you doing behind that door?”

“What door?”

Jethe bared his teeth and slammed Rangavar against the shelves behind him again. “You may think this is a game, but you have no idea what you’re playing with.”

Feeling a tad more convinced that he should do whatever Jethe wanted, Rangavar appeared the sticky note and tentatively held it up. Jethe snatched it out of his paw and squinted at it. He flicked it at Rangavar’s nose. “Where did you get this?”

Rangavar pulled his face away. “Arro brought it home on accident. Said he didn’t fix the outlet, though.” He thought quickly about his predicament; Jethe could sense auras. That’s how he’d been finding he and Arro, and how he’d known whenever they entered an off-limits area. But if Jethe was telepathic enough to sense auras, then he might be telepathic enough to sense lies, so Rangavar knew he had to tread carefully.

Jethe paused for a moment, studying his face. Then he sighed and crumpled up the sticky note. “Well, that request was taken care of yesterday. But that’s okay. You’re not going to remember any of this.”

“Huh?”

Jethe released him, dusted off his jacket, and suddenly looked smug. He clapped his paws on Rangavar’s shoulders and forced the shorter dragon to look up at his eyes.

Rangavar felt a mounting, dizzying pressure in his head. It took a moment for him to recognize it, even with his natural telepathy; someone was trying to enter his mind. In and of itself, it wasn’t a weird ability. It had been super illegal for centuries, though.

At least Rangavar had finally been presented with a battle he could win. He grit his teeth and resisted. If the Faerian wanted to know what was in his head, he wasn’t going to get it by trying to force his way in.

However, Jethe only gazed at him calmly, looking very sure of himself. “You’re not going to remember this. You’re not going to remember this conversation. You’re not going to remember the hallway where you followed the note this morning.”

Rangavar scowled. “Wha—”

“You’re not going to remember this. You’re not going to remember this conversation—”

Ohhhh. As Jethe droned on, Rangavar’s eyes widened in understanding.

Jethe had the type five mutation.
It explained literally everything. Well, not why he seemed to be around the building all hours of the day and night—but otherwise, literally everything. Jethe wasn’t trying to read his mind. He was trying to control it.

At least Rangavar was immune. He idly wondered if he should let Jethe know, but found himself debating whether or not that would be wise. If he gloated about resisting, then on the plus side, the Faerian would stop talking at him—which he was still doing right now, and Rangavar knew he should probably be paying attention. But on the other paw, if Jethe knew he couldn’t just ‘solve’ his problems by quite literally telling them to go away, then what would he do to Rangavar instead?

“…that you’re not interested anymore, and convince Arro, too,” he finally finished.

Wait. Shit. Rangavar hadn’t been listening. If he wanted Jethe to believe that his abilities had worked, Rangavar probably should have been paying attention to what Jethe actually wanted him to do.

At least he must have looked realistically confused, because Jethe seemed satisfied with his work. He wrapped a friendly arm around the back of Rangavar’s shoulders and none-too-gently steered him out of the room.
Rangavar might not know what Jethe had told him, but he did have at least one thing on his mind:

He needed to tell Arro.

~~~~~

The fat Faerian was in the middle of wolfing down a cinnamon bun in the kitchen when the front door flew open behind him. He absently wondered when he could get Rangavar to try these things. They were really sweet, and his track record with sweet things hadn’t been going too well.

“Arro!”

Arro turned around, his gut shifting heavily. He felt guilty to have been caught snacking. But he’d start his diet tomorrow, right? He was supposed to have started it today, of course, but who else would eat these cinnamon buns? Probably not Rangavar, that’s for sure.

Arro leaned on the counter and swallowed the current bite stuffed in his mouth. “Hi. What’s up?” The Darkal looked frantic for some reason.

Rangavar went up to the counter and leaned on the other side. “Jethe is a type five.”

“What?”

Rangavar scowled. “That’s how he’s been finding us.”

Arro thought for a second. “Is that the ability to turn invisible?”

“What? No. That’s the fourth. The fifth altered gene makes him a way stronger telepath than anyone else. It makes sense now. He can sense us wherever we go.”

Arro couldn’t help but feel a bit skeptical. “Or maybe he’s just a really strong telepath. It’s a bit rude to assume that someone can’t be telepathic just b—”

“It’s not ‘because he’s a Faerian’,” Rangavar interrupted, thinking two steps ahead, somewhat to Arro’s annoyance. “He’s not just a normal telepath. He tried to erase my memories today.”

Arro paused. “Wait, really?”

The smaller dragon clambered onto one of the stools. “Yeah. And…” He paused, awkwardly. “I think he may have been erasing yours.”

Arro thought for a long moment. Then waved a paw. “I can’t think of anything weird he’s done around me, so I doubt it.”

Rangavar frowned. “You almost forgot about the entire lab you went into, and also completely forgot something REALLY important inside of it.”

“Oh yeah?” Sure, he’d forgotten until he saw the sticky note, but he’d been tired and distracted. “What’s that then?”

Rangavar scowled. “There’s a staircase to the basement.”

Arro paused. “Are… are you sure?” He suddenly felt less confident. “I didn’t see one…” he said slowly. It must have been hidden. Right? He would have remembered something as important as that.

The Darkal made a small, frustrated noise in his throat. “After I got in today and saw it, he tried to erase my memories, too. That’s what fives do; they play with everyone’s thoughts and actions, and minds are their playgrounds.”

“But you remember him doing that,” Arro pointed out. “I remember him telling me to go home, but I don’t remember him trying to convince me of anything else.”

Rangavar leaned his head on one paw, looking annoyed. “I’m immune, but unless you’re a type five, then no, you wouldn’t remember.”

Arro frowned. “Darkals are immune?”

Rangavar looked away. “Well, no… it’s actually a longer story than that. It’s not important. Jethe thinks that he erased my memory successfully. But…” He bit the bottom of his lip. “I think we can use it to our advantage. To trick him.”

The Faerian snorted. “So he can track us around the building and play with minds. That doesn’t sound like an advantage to me.”

“No, I’ve been thinking a lot on the way home.” He glanced back up at Arro intently. “He can tell where both of us are at once, but he can’t be two places at once.”

“So what you’re saying,” said Arro, around his current mouthful of cinnamon bun, “is that someone should be the distraction.” He swallowed. “Not to shit on your plan, but it’s a bit stupid.”

Rangavar scowled. “How is that not ‘shitting on my plan’.”

Arro blushed. “Okay, sorry, I worded that wrong.” Oops. “I mean, he’d obviously go towards whichever of us was the one being suspicious. Like, if I were standing outside, and you were making your way to the basement, we both know who he’d go after.”

“I already thought of that.” Rangavar leaned forward, resting his arms on the countertop. “That’s why I thought of something better.”

~~~~~

It was easy for the fat Faerian to distract himself from his anxiety with some food and videogames, but Rangavar found it much harder to calm his own mind. Their new plan pretty much guaranteed that at least one of them would get in huge trouble, but apparently, the facility’s way of dealing with it was to send maintenance to quite literally ‘clean up’ these types of messes. All they could hope for was that the facility continued that trend, and nothing more serious happened. Although Rangavar wondered exactly how hard they could push Jethe’s thinning patience. He hadn’t ever seen Jethe emote as much as he had earlier today.

He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Arro cussing out the TV screen downstairs. He got to lie directly in the middle of the mattress when Arro wasn’t up here. He was starting to notice it sank a bit unevenly on the heavier dragon’s side.

He figured he should go down and eat something. He wondered what sickly sweet, doughy, greasy monster the fat dragon would introduce him to today. Or more likely, force him to eat today, which Rangavar didn’t like. Although sometimes, lately, it seemed more like Arro was doing it as an excuse to be funny rather than just pushy.

Rangavar rolled over on his side. Despite being annoyed, he admitted to himself that sometimes, it was a bit funny, although he wasn’t sure why he felt that way. If anyone else tried it, he’d be pissed enough to even consider risking magic to stop them. But for some reason, Arro got a free pass.

It was also weird to think that just a week ago, he was pretty sure that Arro was angry at him, as they were stuck around each other most of the time. He’d thought that Arro may have even still hated him a little, especially for inadvertently hurting his feelings on more than one occasion. And it was true they had a bit of tentative fun now and then, but mostly by chance, right? Now, as he thought back, though… maybe Arro had been hanging out with him not just by chance, but by choice?

The Darkal rolled over further and pushed his face into the blankets. And maybe… he’d enjoyed hanging out with Arro, too. Talking about work, playing videogames together… they’d even gone out drinking a bit before that. Or, so he’d been told. He only vaguely remembered the night, mostly just getting the sense that he’d had a good time. A genuinely good time.

The Faerian now seemed comfortable around him, and Rangavar realized he felt the same way. Comfortable.

He was dragged from his thoughts by Arro yelling downstairs again. He really ought to go see what he was up to. Maybe it would at least help take his mind off things.

Rangavar descended the stairs to see Arro glaring at the screen with his arms crossed over his chest, his arms resting on his huge paunch. He turned his head to see the smaller dragon, the fat around his neck bunching up to limit its movement. “Sorry.” He let out a frustrated growl. “Did I wake you up?”

For some reason, Arro always seemed to think he was sleeping whenever he was upstairs. “No, I’ve been up.” He looked over at the screen, noticing that the Faerian had been losing his videogame. “Why don’t you just take a break?”

Sighing heavily, Arro sat up and put down the controller. “I think I will.”

The fat dragon ponderously hauled himself from the couch as Rangavar reached the kitchen. He’d finally gotten more fruit to eat, and figured maybe he needed a break too, just from his thoughts instead of a screen.

They ended up eating together at the counter again, Arro still looking a bit frustrated but calming down. Neither of them spoke for a while, during which Arro downed massive quantities of food that neither of them commented on. They both had their own ways of dealing with stress.

“Do you want to go out drinking or something?” Arro suddenly asked, shoveling down his last donut. “It would be, you know… We wouldn’t be thinking about the plan we came up with for tomorrow night. It could be fun.”

Rangavar looked away. “I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow. You know?”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Arro sighed and wiped some sort of sugary goo off his lips with the back of a paw. Rangavar wasn’t sure which food it was from. There were so many possibilities.

It was bad enough that tomorrow was a day off for both of them, so they’d have all day to dwell on the plan. They’d have to fight their anxiety until nightfall.

Rangavar tried to think of distractions. “We could go to the gym.”

Arro frowned. “Right now?”

“Well, no. It doesn’t have to be right now.” Rangavar looked down at his paws. ‘Right now’ was never a good time for the gym. “Tomorrow, maybe. To keep us busy. So we don’t think about tomorrow night.”

Arro nodded slowly. “Maybe.”

After a moment, Rangavar sighed. “I swear to Vaugh waiting is half the battle.”

“I’m still thinking it might be fun to go out,” said Arro. “We wouldn’t still be hungover by tomorrow night.”

Rangavar thought for a second. “Why don’t you cook, or bake, or something. You seem to enjoy stuff like that. I could try to help.”

“Hmmm.” Arro pretended to be thinking as he looked off into an imaginary distance. “I can’t think of anything to make that would give you the chance to stab things.”

Rangavar’s instinct was to growl and throw something at him, but there wasn’t anything around to throw, so he settled for growling. “You know what—”

“Hey, I’m kidding! Well, sort of kidding,” said Arro smugly. “You know, we could combine our ideas. Get really drunk, then make food.”

Rangavar raised a brow. “When did ‘going out for drinks’ turn into ‘getting really drunk’?”

Arro grinned. “When you suggested being hungover tomorrow.”

“I did not ‘suggest’ getting hung over tomorrow,” Rangavar said with air quotes. “That’s actually the opposite of what I said, I do believe.”

“Are those things really so different, though?”

“Yes!”

Arro snorted. “Not if you do it right.”

Rangavar rolled his eyes.

“Come onnnn, it’ll be fun. Drinking, I mean. We don’t have to get drunk. We can just relax a bit.”

Rangavar thought for a moment. “Fine. But only because it’ll be a distraction. And it’ll get us out of this damn house for a change.” He paused. “I mean, get me out of this house. Although you’ll be coming too. So yeah, I guess ‘us’ makes s—”

“I know what you mean, and you’re right.” Arro got up from his stool.

Getting up from his own, Rangavar turned away before Arro saw his cheeks become a darker shade of gray. “Yeah. Let’s go get some drinks, then.”

~~~~~

A few hours later, Arro was yelling at Rangavar to come down from the brick fence around the perimeter of one of the tall buildings in the city. “How come when you’re drunk, your instinct is to climb on things?” he growled. “That’s actually like, probably the worst time to climb on things.” Rangavar had done this the other time they were drunk together, somewhere else in the city, albeit the Darkal was even more sloshed that time. It was a wonder he hadn’t been picked off by natural selection by now.

“I’m not even drunk,” he countered. “MAYBE buzzed. And I just wanted to come up here to see if I could.”

“No, you’re definitely drunk.”

“Tipsy,” Rangavar offered.

“Drunk.”

Rangavar made a face and sat down on the brick fence, unsteadily spreading his wings and wobbling back and forth.
Perfect. Previously, Arro hadn’t been able to reach, his fingers just slightly shy of the top. Now that Rangavar had forgotten and dropped his legs over the edge, Arro grabbed ahold of his ankles and pulled.

“A—!”

Rangavar fell practically on top of him, but the sturdy Faerian caught him with Rangavar’s arms falling over his shoulders and Arro’s paws ending up under his thighs so that the small dragon just slammed into his soft, squishy chest.

Arro considered just standing like that for a moment, Rangavar in his arms. Then he blushed, and quickly let the smaller dragon onto the ground.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Rangavar slurred. “Darkals have unbreakable bones.”

“I know. I totally should have let you face-plant on the pavement. I’ll keep that idea for next time.” Arro lightly gripped the loose ridge of scales between Rangavar’s shoulder blades like he was a hatchling. He didn’t need the Darkal running around the city from him.

“Let go!”

“We’re going home now.”

“That’s no fun.” Rangavar stumbled as the larger dragon pulled him along. He giggled slightly. “Orrrr, have you considered… we could go back for more drinks.”

“Nooo way, I’m taking your light-weight ass home.” He glanced down at the other dragon and shifted his grip so that he had his arm firmly around Rangavar’s shoulders instead. Despite himself, he found himself grinning a bit at the smaller dragon’s antics. Now, if only they weren’t so annoying to keep up with.

Oblivious, Rangavar stumbled for a moment and caught himself against Arro, his arm delving deeply into the fat Faerian’s plush rolls. He muttered out something that may have been either a curse or an apology. Arro laughed.

Unlike Rangavar’s natural inclination to be more physically active while drunk—which Arro did not understand AT ALL—Arro was more or less in the mood for some food. He was still hoping to make some when they got home, as originally planned. Well, he’d probably have to supervise Rangavar a little extra, but he could work with that.

The streets weren’t completely silent at this time of night; even though it was pitch black outside, it was still only due to the sun setting so early. As usual, the natural residents of the city were still out and about. Arro and Rangavar really hadn’t been out drinking for very long; just until Rangavar seemed done, which Arro had decided on when the Darkal’s own reasoning waned. He felt pleasantly buzzed himself, but hadn’t attempted to outdrink the Darkal this time. So he was stuck being the responsible one.

He was startled to notice when, up ahead, there was another Darkal on the street. He actually did a double-take, since he hadn’t seen any others on Karraden the entire time he’d been here.

He nudged Rangavar. “Guess you’re not the only Darkal on Karraden anymore.”

Rangavar stared at her. “I’m sure I haven’t been the only Darkal on Karraden this whole time.”

“Hey, stop staring.” Arro pulled him closer to shift his attention. “Unlike you, she’s not too drunk to notice.”

“I’m not ‘drunk.’”

“Uh-huh.”

As they passed each other on the street, she turned to look at them. She was pale gray, her straight black horns glinting darkly from the streetlamps around them that lit up the night. For some reason, Arro found her gaze unnerving. Not just like she was noticing them; more like she was analyzing them.

After they’d long since passed each other and were safely out of earshot, Arro looked down at Rangavar. “Did she say anything to you?” Darkals preferred to communicate mainly through telepathy. Arro wouldn’t know if they’d spoken.

Rangavar shook his head. “Nah.”

“Maybe she recognized you’re just too drunk to think right now,” he teased.

Rangavar wrinkled his nose. “Not ‘drunk’. Tipsy.”

“At least you’re not too in denial to up your status from ‘buzzed’ to ‘tipsy’.”

The smaller dragon didn’t comment, looking downwards, seemingly more involved with where he was putting his feet.

When they got home, Rangavar stood in the kitchen and blankly looked around while Arro closed the door behind them. “Weren’t we going to make food or something?”

“Yes.”

“You still want to do that?” The other dragon seemed less than enthused.

“You agreed to, so we’re doing it.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed. “It sounded so much easier a few hours ago.”

“Before you got drunk?”

“Hey, it was YOUR idea to go out drinking,” Rangavar pointed out.

Arro grinned. “Okay, you’re right, I know.” He rummaged around in the cabinets for a pan. “But I didn’t know I’d have to drag you home after two drinks.”

“A drink and a half,” Rangavar retorted.

“I… I don’t think you’re making the point that you’re trying to make.”

After a moment of realization, Rangavar slapped his forehead. “Shit, wait, I mean—”

Arro laughed at him and set a pan on the counter. “Hey, grab the flour?”

The Darkal brightened. “Sure.”

Arro realized a second too late that the flour was on the top shelf, giving Rangavar a great excuse to climb on the counter, which the Darkal loved immensely and absolutely should not be doing while drunk. “Hey, never mind, I’ll get it.”

Before he’d even turned around, Rangavar was already on the counter and delving into the cabinet, his paws hanging on the open doors. Arro stood behind him so that he wouldn’t fall. “Why do you like to climb things so much?”

“I’m not sober.”

“That’s… that’s true. Definitely true right now.” Arro snorted. “But that doesn’t answer the question.”

Rangavar pulled his head out of the cabinet. “I don’t think the flour is in here.”

“What?” Arro frowned. “I’m sure I bought some.”

“I don’t see it.” His eyes scanning the shelves, he took a step back—his foot not landing on the counter as he forgot about where he was standing.

For the second time that night, Arro was forced to grab him, Rangavar making an unintelligible noise in his throat as he collapsed backwards into Arro’s plush body. Arro grunted. Thank Vaugh Darkals were so light. “Why don’t I do the baking while you go sit somewhere. You’re clearly a hazard to yourself.”

Arro had his paws under Rangavar’s arms while the Darkal’s back was leaning into his massive belly. They were close enough to the counter that Rangavar still had his feet on it in an awkward sitting-position from atop Arro’s stomach. “You have to let go of me,” he pointed out.

“Are you going to behave if I put you down?”

Rangavar giggled. “I might.”

Arro rolled his eyes. “You’d better decide, because I can wait like this all night.” Actually, he supposed that wouldn’t be so bad. Rangavar’s warm body leaning on him, Arro’s arms hugging him from behind—

“You have to put me down eventually. I’m too heavy.”

“You’re not heavy at all.”

“You won’t be saying that after five minutes of trying to hold me.”

Okay, fair, he’d get tired. But he wasn’t going to admit that to Rangavar. “I’m a Tripe, remember? Super-strength.”

Rangavar shifted his weight a bit. “That’s still a stupid word.”

It was another moment before Arro finally gave up. He didn’t want his back to start hurting from arching it against the Darkal’s weight. He backed away slightly to let Rangavar’s feet slide off the counter and held him up until he could set them on the floor.

“I knew I was too heavy.”

“You’re not ‘heavy’, you’re tiring me out in other ways right now.”

Rangavar snorted. “Because I couldn’t find the flour?”

“What? No.” Arro scowled at the smaller dragon. “Although, we do still need that.”

“I can run to the store,” Rangavar helpfully offered.

“Nooo you can’t. You’re not going anywhere.”

Rangavar made a face and gave Arro a thumbs-down.

Arro tried to wave him away. “Go sit on the couch or something.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Look for the flour.” Arro waved again. “Now go.”

Rangavar went into the living room and plopped down on the couch. “What if we don’t have any flour? Are you going to go to the store?”

“Leaving you here without supervision? No way,” the larger dragon teased.

He saw the Darkal lean back against the couch as he searched. He eventually did find the damn flour, just not where he remembered.

“What’s the thing you’re making?” Rangavar called over to the kitchen.

Arro grabbed a bowl. “Cookies.”

“That’s a cute word.”

He ended up working in silence, pretty sure that Rangavar fell asleep at some point. No matter; he was definitely waking up the Darkal for some damn cookies anyway, whether he wanted them or not. Especially after the trouble he’d been putting him through tonight. Arro found drunk-Rangavar endearing, but taking care of drunk-Rangavar was also work.

Later, Arro poked the Darkal sprawled on the couch. He was stretched out too far in the middle for Arro to sit down, regardless of how huge the new couch was. Rangavar made an unintelligible noise in his throat and rolled over.
“Hey buddy, I need you to sit up.”

Rangavar grunted and was still for a moment. But before Arro could prompt him again, he pushed himself up and moved to the side. “You made the… the…”

“Cookies?”

“That’s what I said.”

Arro snorted. “You didn’t say an—You know what? Yeah. That’s exactly what you said.” He took one off the plate and tried to hand it to the smaller dragon. “Now here.”

Rangavar held it in both paws. He took a bite. He was facing across the room, but said, “I know you’re staring at me.”

Arro blushed and looked away. He cleared his throat. “Is it good?”

“I dunno.” The smaller dragon shrugged. “Most things are good when you’re drunk.”

“Glad to see you’ve officially accepted your status from ‘buzzed’, to ‘tipsy’, to ‘drunk’.”

Rangavar scowled as he took another bite of cookie. Arro just grinned at him.

They descended into silence as Rangavar paid a great deal of attention to his one simple task, and Arro began shoveling down his own cookies with vigor. He really hoped Rangavar wanted some more. Arro might be drunk now, but knew that if he ate all the rest himself, he’d be pretty upset with himself when he was sober in the morning.
As Rangavar finished his cookie, Arro pushed the plate back at him.

“I already had one.”

“Look at all these. Have another.”

Rangavar groaned and turned to press his face into the couch. “Please don’t make me eat them. I hate when you do that.”

Arro paused. “You do?” He suddenly thought back on all the times he’d done that. Rangavar hated that… Rangavar hated that? No wonder the Darkal didn’t like him. He must hate him. He must—

“Hey, okay, I’ll have another cookie.”

“Huh?”

Rangavar turned back over and stretched with his arms over his head. “I can feel you getting upset.”

“Oh.” Arro blushed. “It’s not about that, it’s just…” He paused, his brain struggling to string words together. He wasn’t exactly sober himself. “I didn’t mean to make you hate me.”

“What?” Rangavar looked at him and frowned. “That’s a bit of a jump. I didn’t say anything like that, I just said—”

“No, it’s okay, I get it.” Arro flattened his ears and looked down at his lap. Not that he could see it, as usual. He was actually getting fatter. And here he was pounding down cookies. Rangavar must think—

“Hey. Please don’t be sad.” Rangavar suddenly scooted over and leaned on his shoulder. “You’re just a bit drunk right now.”

Arro was stiff as a board. Rangavar was leaning on him? Voluntarily? “Y-you’re the drunk one,” he stammered. Rangavar was leaning on him. Voluntarily.

The smaller dragon made a noncommittal noise in his throat.

“You know when you’re drunk, you get really cuddly.”

Rangavar sat up and glared at him.

Arro wanted to slap himself across the face. He ruined it. “I don’t mean that in a bad way! I mean like, it’s really cute.” Wait, fuck, that was worse. He felt his face turn red. “I mean, not that you’re not cute all of the time! Just—” Slapping himself across the face wouldn’t be enough. He needed to get slapped across the face with a chair. “I just think you’re even cuter right now.” He was appalled by the way words kept spilling out his mouth against his will.

Rangavar pushed himself off the couch. “If this is a Darkal joke, it’s not funny,” he growled. “We’re not ‘cute’, just for being—”

“No!” Arro pleaded. “I mean you’re cute in particular.” Why couldn’t he just shut the fuck up. His fat mouth wouldn’t stop moving.

Rangavar had been making his way towards the stairs, but paused and flicked an ear at him. “…You mean because I’m drunk?”

“Yeah,” he lied. Wait. Fuck. Darkals could hear lies. “I mean… please ignore me,” he groaned instead. Begging for mercy seemed like the best place to settle at this point. “I am also drunk.”

“Yeah…” said Rangavar slowly. “You are. We both are. I’m going to bed.”

Arro wanted to yell and bury his face in the couch for all eternity, but knew that Rangavar would hear him from upstairs. Should he go outside and scream at the sky instead? Well, Rangavar would probably hear that too. He’d have to get far away from the house. Honestly, the idea of wandering off into the sunset was incredibly appealing right now. Except that it was night, and he had nowhere to go.

Arro curled up, trying to arrange his body to fit on the couch. Maybe he could just sleep down here tonight and when he woke up in the morning, everything he said would just go away. Yeah. Maybe everything would be fine. Rangavar was pretty drunk, right? Maybe he wouldn’t even remember. Maybe he wouldn’t know that Arro thought he was cute.

~~~~~

Rangavar stared at the ceiling. He was guessing Arro wasn’t coming to bed anytime soon, so it was fine to stretch out his arms across the mattress. He knew the big Faerian would just wake him up when he wanted to get in. But he wasn’t sure that Arro wanted to get in tonight.

Rangavar closed his eyes. Fuck. He was more drunk than he’d wanted to get tonight. But not too drunk to sense Arro’s thoughts and emotions.

He’d called Rangavar cute. It was something Rangavar heard a lot from other species, constantly degrading and demeaning Darkals. The word ‘cute’ was usually condescending. It was rude. He should be pissed. But then, Arro insisted that’s not what he meant, though. That he just thought Rangavar was cute. Not Darkals. Just him.

He hadn’t been lying.

Rangavar rolled over, a bit drunk and not really sure what to do with this information. If Arro wasn’t being condescending… and said that it only applied to Rangavar in particular… then what exactly had Arro meant? He’d called Rangavar cute. It was such a vague and unclear message. So cryptic. It could mean anything.

Rangavar’s head was swirling as he began to drift off. ‘Cute’ wasn’t applicable to someone like him. He supposed it could be applied to attractive dragons, like Arro. Arro was cute. But Rangavar? He couldn’t think of a single reason to be called cute. Especially not by Arro. Not a single possible reason that the fat Faerian would say that. Rangavar might have even assumed he’d heard him wrong, except for Arro saying it over and over and over and over…

When sleep finally overtook him, he was still mystified.