Infinity Smashed: Coming Out to Bobcat
Jul. 28th, 2014 10:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lb_leeTitle: Coming Out To Bobcat
Word Count: 1500
Summary: After Scorch and Flame find out, M.D. decides to tell Bobcat about her new poly arrangement with Thomas and Raige. Bobcat takes it... characteristically.
Notes: This takes place immediately after It's Better to Give. It is unabashedly silly, and as far as I know, none of those books actually exist, thank goodness.
M.D. comes home from work with a gigantic basket of… stuff. Some of it looks like food, but the rest…
“What,” Raige asks, “is that?”
M.D. fixes them both with a baleful glare. “This,” she holds up the basket and shakes it, “is the equivalent of a wedding gift from Scorch and Flame. They think I’m mated to you guys now.”
Thomas lets out a long snort and buries his face in his forearms but remains silent. Raige keeps his face straight and desperately searches for something neutral to say.
“That’s, um. Very generous of them,” he finally settles on.
Wrong choice. M.D. throws the basket down with vigor, glares daggers at him, and stomps off to change out of her stained jumpsuit… which is just three paces in her tiny place, but still, she makes those three steps count.
Raige looks helplessly at Thomas, who explains in carefully modulated tones, “Treehouse rules, man. Gifts are heavy duty. And you know how M.D. is. They’ve probably been waiting years to do this.”
“Dang straight they have!” M.D. snarls, tearing off her jumpsuit. “This is just what they managed to surprise me with; they’re still making out their wish list. With my luck, they’re going to throw a frogging party for the whole town and try to bake me a cake made entirely of meat products.”
“Come on, let’s not get hyperbolic…” Raige soothes.
“Remember that time they tried to do Christmas stockings? I had to burn those socks.”
“Okay yeah, the stockings were pretty bad. But still, they’re just trying to express their congratulations. This is good, they’re happy for you!”
“I thought you weren’t going to tell them?” Thomas interrupts.
M.D. hops on one leg, trying to get into her jeans. “Tell, nothing. They smelled you on me. By their sensory standard, I might as well have walked in covered in hickeys and with ‘Thomas and Raige were here’ spray-painted on me. I probably still smell like Axe body spray; thanks a lot, Thomas, at least Raige wears something subtle…”
Thomas snorts and goes to check out the basket. “Wow, that sounds so hard. I can’t imagine how tough that must’ve been, them being all happy for you and giving you all this crap.”
“Yeah, if my dad tries to bake me a meat cake after I tell him, I’ll consider it a huge success,” Raige agrees, investigating the basket’s contents with curiosity. He barely recognizes half of it.
“Apparently they approve of you,” M.D. says, pulling her shirt over her head and snatching Raige’s green flannel (by now, he should probably just give in and admit it’s hers) off a hook. “I think they’re relieved that something good is happening to me for once.”
“Aw, you hear that? She likes us,” Thomas says, digging through the basket and coming up with what looks like an old vacuum tube. “And what’s with all the gears and stuff?”
“I have no idea; they seem to be under the impression that those are the kind of things you give humanoids when they start dating.”
“Huh,” Raige says, picking up a pair of spur gears and spinning them. “And you… didn’t correct them?”
“No, I was too busy suffering apoplexy of shame.”
“Aw, babe, don’t be ashamed,” Thomas croons, patting her on the back. “Shame is for other people.”
M.D. rolls her eyes.
“Speaking of other people,” Raige says, “Bobcat called.”
M.D.’s ears prick up as she tugs on the flannel. “Oh yeah? How is he?”
“Good. He hasn’t heard from you since the hearing, invited us over. Said he had the afternoon free—er, by our time standard anyway.” Raige shrugs and scratches the back of his head. “So… should we tell him?”
“We might as well get the humiliation over with,” M.D. grumbles, grabbing her belt to fiddle with her jaunt-watch. “Now that my employers know my relationship status, he’s going to be offended if we don’t tell him.”
“Isn’t it kind of a formality?” Raige asks as she tweaks the knob. “I mean, he’s telepathic; if he didn’t know just from talking to me, he’s going to know the moment we walk in…”
“Good,” M.D. growls, twisting a dial on her wrist. “That’ll make it easy.”
Reality tears like a cheap hankie, and they go through. There’s the smell of burning plastic and a weird lurch as their atoms rearrange, and then they’re in the bland off-white curving architecture of the Jaunter’s League.
It turns out that Raige is right: telling Bobcat is completely unnecessary. They come in to find him at his customized desk, and even though his body language isn’t human, even Raige can tell he’s absolutely overjoyed.
Oh, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you! He says, putting his paws on M.D.’s knees. You’re engaging in developmentally appropriate social relationships!
M.D. looks pained. Thomas grins. Raige suppresses laughter and goes, “He’s right, you know. This is the most normal thing you’ve ever done.”
“We’re the most normal things you’ve ever done,” Thomas corrects. Even though technically, the ‘doing’ hasn’t started yet, but the pun is too easy.
M.D.’s lip curls but she otherwise ignores them and pets Bobcat, muttering, “Well, uh. I like them. I might keep them around a while.”
Raige puts one hand to his heart. Thomas fakes a swoon. “I’ll break out the champagne,” he says.
Bobcat leaps from M.D.’s arms and plants himself in front of Thomas and Raige, mental voice abruptly serious. Now, he says, I know exactly what your educational system is like on this matter, and I doubt it was at all helpful for this eventuality. So, before you do anything rash, obviously we need to have a serious conversation.
Raige feels his grin vanish. M.D. looks as though she’s just been cornered in a church. Thomas is the only one who doesn’t look too concerned.
“You’ve been planning this, haven’t you?” M.D. accuses.
Bobcat’s whiskers twitch and his tail curls into a question mark. Yes. Yes I have. Now sit down, I spent all day memorizing this speech and don’t try to leave, the door is locked…
M.D. makes a miserable squeaking sound.
A couple hours later, the three of them leave Bobcat’s office laden with books, gloves, condoms, and assorted other things. M.D. is uncharacteristically subdued. Raige’s shoulders are up around his ears and his face feels like it’s on fire. Thomas is hysterical with laughter.
“Well,” Raige says finally. “That was… educational.”
M.D. shudders. “Yes. Yes it was. Good to see that despite my upbringing, I didn’t miss out on the quintessential American experience of having the Talk in painful, humiliating detail from someone totally inappropriate.”
“Could’ve been worse,” Thomas says from the floor. “Could’ve been Biff.”
“Don’t even joke.”
“I had no idea Bobcat was so… knowledgeable,” Raige says.
“I guess he figured that he had to be, in my case,” M.D. replies. She eyes one of the books under her arm (Practical Polyamory: a Commonsense Guide to Consensual Non-Monogamy) and she sighs with resignation. “Books. My great weakness. I’m going to be buried in these for weeks.”
“Uh. Can I borrow some of them?” Raige asks.
“Sure, you don’t think all of these were for me, do you?” She holds up another, labeled Asexual/Sexual Relations for the Optimistic and Perplexed, then starts rearranging the stack to try and find others. “And I’m pretty sure this one about prostate stimulation is for you, since as far as I know, I don’t possess one…”
Raige feels his facial temperature go up another few degrees. “Er, that’s okay, let’s try for the… less terrifying stuff first.” He accepts the asexual/sexual relations one, though, and hangs on to Telepathic Tantra.
“What if your dad finds them?”
Raige resists a snort. “My dad doesn’t notice what I read. I’ll just keep them on the shelf with the Christine Feehan and the Gail Carson Levine, and he’ll never know the difference. Hear, pass that over; we’ll trade later.”
“Deal.”
There’s some rapid swapping of books from various stacks. Some of the titles are impressively awful; Raige gets a copy of Interspecies Romance: Making Your Differences Work For You while M.D. ends up with Under Construction: Construct Sexual Theory and some garish yellow thing entitled Happy Zappy Electric Play. Most of the covers are vaguely abstract, except for Happy Zappy which has an enormous cartoony lightning bolt with a terrifying smiley face on it.
Once they’ve gotten themselves situated with a good stack of books each, there’s still a remainder that neither of them are comfortable touching—either because it feels like advanced study (Your Prenuptial Agreement) or just embarrasses them too much (101 Sex Toys You Can Make In Your Parents’ Basement).
“What about Thomas?” Raige asks.
They look at Thomas, who beams. M.D. looks back at Raige and says coolly, “What about him?”
They exchange looks, then dump all the porn and embarrassing volumes off on him. He takes them with a thumbs up.
Word Count: 1500
Summary: After Scorch and Flame find out, M.D. decides to tell Bobcat about her new poly arrangement with Thomas and Raige. Bobcat takes it... characteristically.
Notes: This takes place immediately after It's Better to Give. It is unabashedly silly, and as far as I know, none of those books actually exist, thank goodness.
M.D. comes home from work with a gigantic basket of… stuff. Some of it looks like food, but the rest…
“What,” Raige asks, “is that?”
M.D. fixes them both with a baleful glare. “This,” she holds up the basket and shakes it, “is the equivalent of a wedding gift from Scorch and Flame. They think I’m mated to you guys now.”
Thomas lets out a long snort and buries his face in his forearms but remains silent. Raige keeps his face straight and desperately searches for something neutral to say.
“That’s, um. Very generous of them,” he finally settles on.
Wrong choice. M.D. throws the basket down with vigor, glares daggers at him, and stomps off to change out of her stained jumpsuit… which is just three paces in her tiny place, but still, she makes those three steps count.
Raige looks helplessly at Thomas, who explains in carefully modulated tones, “Treehouse rules, man. Gifts are heavy duty. And you know how M.D. is. They’ve probably been waiting years to do this.”
“Dang straight they have!” M.D. snarls, tearing off her jumpsuit. “This is just what they managed to surprise me with; they’re still making out their wish list. With my luck, they’re going to throw a frogging party for the whole town and try to bake me a cake made entirely of meat products.”
“Come on, let’s not get hyperbolic…” Raige soothes.
“Remember that time they tried to do Christmas stockings? I had to burn those socks.”
“Okay yeah, the stockings were pretty bad. But still, they’re just trying to express their congratulations. This is good, they’re happy for you!”
“I thought you weren’t going to tell them?” Thomas interrupts.
M.D. hops on one leg, trying to get into her jeans. “Tell, nothing. They smelled you on me. By their sensory standard, I might as well have walked in covered in hickeys and with ‘Thomas and Raige were here’ spray-painted on me. I probably still smell like Axe body spray; thanks a lot, Thomas, at least Raige wears something subtle…”
Thomas snorts and goes to check out the basket. “Wow, that sounds so hard. I can’t imagine how tough that must’ve been, them being all happy for you and giving you all this crap.”
“Yeah, if my dad tries to bake me a meat cake after I tell him, I’ll consider it a huge success,” Raige agrees, investigating the basket’s contents with curiosity. He barely recognizes half of it.
“Apparently they approve of you,” M.D. says, pulling her shirt over her head and snatching Raige’s green flannel (by now, he should probably just give in and admit it’s hers) off a hook. “I think they’re relieved that something good is happening to me for once.”
“Aw, you hear that? She likes us,” Thomas says, digging through the basket and coming up with what looks like an old vacuum tube. “And what’s with all the gears and stuff?”
“I have no idea; they seem to be under the impression that those are the kind of things you give humanoids when they start dating.”
“Huh,” Raige says, picking up a pair of spur gears and spinning them. “And you… didn’t correct them?”
“No, I was too busy suffering apoplexy of shame.”
“Aw, babe, don’t be ashamed,” Thomas croons, patting her on the back. “Shame is for other people.”
M.D. rolls her eyes.
“Speaking of other people,” Raige says, “Bobcat called.”
M.D.’s ears prick up as she tugs on the flannel. “Oh yeah? How is he?”
“Good. He hasn’t heard from you since the hearing, invited us over. Said he had the afternoon free—er, by our time standard anyway.” Raige shrugs and scratches the back of his head. “So… should we tell him?”
“We might as well get the humiliation over with,” M.D. grumbles, grabbing her belt to fiddle with her jaunt-watch. “Now that my employers know my relationship status, he’s going to be offended if we don’t tell him.”
“Isn’t it kind of a formality?” Raige asks as she tweaks the knob. “I mean, he’s telepathic; if he didn’t know just from talking to me, he’s going to know the moment we walk in…”
“Good,” M.D. growls, twisting a dial on her wrist. “That’ll make it easy.”
Reality tears like a cheap hankie, and they go through. There’s the smell of burning plastic and a weird lurch as their atoms rearrange, and then they’re in the bland off-white curving architecture of the Jaunter’s League.
It turns out that Raige is right: telling Bobcat is completely unnecessary. They come in to find him at his customized desk, and even though his body language isn’t human, even Raige can tell he’s absolutely overjoyed.
Oh, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you! He says, putting his paws on M.D.’s knees. You’re engaging in developmentally appropriate social relationships!
M.D. looks pained. Thomas grins. Raige suppresses laughter and goes, “He’s right, you know. This is the most normal thing you’ve ever done.”
“We’re the most normal things you’ve ever done,” Thomas corrects. Even though technically, the ‘doing’ hasn’t started yet, but the pun is too easy.
M.D.’s lip curls but she otherwise ignores them and pets Bobcat, muttering, “Well, uh. I like them. I might keep them around a while.”
Raige puts one hand to his heart. Thomas fakes a swoon. “I’ll break out the champagne,” he says.
Bobcat leaps from M.D.’s arms and plants himself in front of Thomas and Raige, mental voice abruptly serious. Now, he says, I know exactly what your educational system is like on this matter, and I doubt it was at all helpful for this eventuality. So, before you do anything rash, obviously we need to have a serious conversation.
Raige feels his grin vanish. M.D. looks as though she’s just been cornered in a church. Thomas is the only one who doesn’t look too concerned.
“You’ve been planning this, haven’t you?” M.D. accuses.
Bobcat’s whiskers twitch and his tail curls into a question mark. Yes. Yes I have. Now sit down, I spent all day memorizing this speech and don’t try to leave, the door is locked…
M.D. makes a miserable squeaking sound.
…
A couple hours later, the three of them leave Bobcat’s office laden with books, gloves, condoms, and assorted other things. M.D. is uncharacteristically subdued. Raige’s shoulders are up around his ears and his face feels like it’s on fire. Thomas is hysterical with laughter.
“Well,” Raige says finally. “That was… educational.”
M.D. shudders. “Yes. Yes it was. Good to see that despite my upbringing, I didn’t miss out on the quintessential American experience of having the Talk in painful, humiliating detail from someone totally inappropriate.”
“Could’ve been worse,” Thomas says from the floor. “Could’ve been Biff.”
“Don’t even joke.”
“I had no idea Bobcat was so… knowledgeable,” Raige says.
“I guess he figured that he had to be, in my case,” M.D. replies. She eyes one of the books under her arm (Practical Polyamory: a Commonsense Guide to Consensual Non-Monogamy) and she sighs with resignation. “Books. My great weakness. I’m going to be buried in these for weeks.”
“Uh. Can I borrow some of them?” Raige asks.
“Sure, you don’t think all of these were for me, do you?” She holds up another, labeled Asexual/Sexual Relations for the Optimistic and Perplexed, then starts rearranging the stack to try and find others. “And I’m pretty sure this one about prostate stimulation is for you, since as far as I know, I don’t possess one…”
Raige feels his facial temperature go up another few degrees. “Er, that’s okay, let’s try for the… less terrifying stuff first.” He accepts the asexual/sexual relations one, though, and hangs on to Telepathic Tantra.
“What if your dad finds them?”
Raige resists a snort. “My dad doesn’t notice what I read. I’ll just keep them on the shelf with the Christine Feehan and the Gail Carson Levine, and he’ll never know the difference. Hear, pass that over; we’ll trade later.”
“Deal.”
There’s some rapid swapping of books from various stacks. Some of the titles are impressively awful; Raige gets a copy of Interspecies Romance: Making Your Differences Work For You while M.D. ends up with Under Construction: Construct Sexual Theory and some garish yellow thing entitled Happy Zappy Electric Play. Most of the covers are vaguely abstract, except for Happy Zappy which has an enormous cartoony lightning bolt with a terrifying smiley face on it.
Once they’ve gotten themselves situated with a good stack of books each, there’s still a remainder that neither of them are comfortable touching—either because it feels like advanced study (Your Prenuptial Agreement) or just embarrasses them too much (101 Sex Toys You Can Make In Your Parents’ Basement).
“What about Thomas?” Raige asks.
They look at Thomas, who beams. M.D. looks back at Raige and says coolly, “What about him?”
They exchange looks, then dump all the porn and embarrassing volumes off on him. He takes them with a thumbs up.
