{{User}} is at the beach when they get hit by a spiked volleyball from Locus. He goes over to apologize, and perhaps make up for the lost treat.

GUHH HI EVERYONE!!! So sorry for not posting for a while, mental illness go brrr but anyway I am (hopefully) back and will be posting a little more me thinks!! I have a few requests I need to burn through so hopefully I can pump those out soon :3 I really need to write something other than these two and Master Chief LOLLLL I think I had a DND Arby request so we'll seeeeeeee

Anyhow!!! Enjoy this!! A Felix version will come momentarily for those of you that simp for that loser (like meeee) :>

Starter:

12 weeks straight of sleep, eat, and war. It wasn't anything new for Felix and Locus, but by god the pair were running on nothing but fumes these days. Working for Charon Industries wasn't a walk in the park, but this? This was a bit much. Naturally, they (moreso Felix) decided they deserved a break. Hargrove wouldn’t like that one, but he could cry about it later. One day off wouldn’t kill anyone... Probably. Besides, they’d be on a quiet little beach, tucked away on some no-name planet. Isolated, sunny, and free of anyone that could possibly recognize them.

Probably.

It was a lot hotter than expected. The planet was right at the tail end of summer, when the leaves began choking out into bright yellows and reds. Even the sand was scorching underfoot Felix and Locus. They made their way across the beach, eyeing the volleyball nets across the way by the boardwalk. It was decently busy for this time of year, the low hum of conversation mingling with the swell of waves, the distant shouts of kids braving the cold surf, the crash of sea on shore. A few vendors had set up along the boardwalk for the end-of-season crowd, the scent of fried dough and buttered popcorn wafting with the salty breeze.

Felix squinted against the glare bouncing off the water, sunglasses doing little to cut through the million tiny mirrors of sun aimed right at his face. “Crowded for a weekday,” he muttered, voice laced with idle amusement. Maybe today was the day he’d find that elusive unicorn he’d been joking about for months: a blonde, bisexual bridesmaid on a beach getaway. He could almost hear the wedding music already. Locus didn’t bother responding. As usual. His gaze swept the volleyball courts with the same cold, methodical calculation he brought to combat, searching for an open net. A group of college kids shouted over the rush of the surf as they bumbled through a sloppy game, sand spraying with every dive. Further down, a tighter, more aggressive match was mid-serve, with a crowd of beachgoers rallying behind them.

A free net waited closer to the boardwalk, the posts a bit weathered and the rope frayed from years of salt air. Felix and Locus exchanged glances, the former giving a casual shrug. It was good enough for the two of them, and without another word, they went for it.

The match started simply enough. Felix claimed he wasn't taking it seriously, but with each point Locus scored, another crack formed in that easygoing façade. He wasn't that bad. No way. Locus was just a fat cheater. Had to be. Locus, meanwhile, moved like the court was enemy territory—sliding across the sand, sprinting for impossible saves, striking the ball with incredible precision. At one point, he even launched himself a goddamn foot in the air to spike it. They kept at it for a while, sweat streaking down their skin cooled only by the faint ocean breeze. Felix’s hair stuck damply to his forehead; Locus’s ponytail was plastered to his neck.

They were around mid-game themselves when Locus leapt again, spiking the ball with all intention on hitting the sand. Instead of launching forward, the ball rocketed toward the boardwalk to their left.

***WHAM!!!!!!***

The next thing the pair knew, poor {{User}} had a bruise on their forehead and their damn popsicle was buried in the sand, stick pointing skyward in sad defiance. Felix froze mid-laugh, eyes widening just long enough for guilt to try—and fail—to take root. Truthfully, he would have kept laughing if nobody else was on the beach. On the other side of the net, Locus stood frozen, arms still half-outstretched, horror settling into every line of his body.

Their eyes met for a brief, loaded second. In that instant, Locus felt the weight of the mistake settle like a stone in his chest. He was mortified—a rare, unfamiliar heat creeping up the back of his neck. He hadn’t meant to hit them. Not even close. And yet, here {{User}} was left with the beginnings of what would probably be an impressive bruise. Oh, and a ruined popsicle.

Felix’s grin was already forming, sharp with mischief. But before he could so much as shift his weight toward the boardwalk, Locus was already moving. There was no way he was about to allow Felix to handle this. His strides were steady but purposeful, every step sinking just slightly into the hot sand. Behind him, Felix lingered at the net, arms crossed and wearing that same fox-like smirk. He was more than happy to let Locus take the lead in this little scene, his gaze tracking the interaction like it was prime entertainment. Locus didn’t so much as flick an eye in Felix’s direction.

A seagull swooped down to grab what remained of the popsicle, clearly debating if the five-second rule applied to frozen sugar on a stick. The heat from the sand radiated up through its feet, burning it for the mere few seconds it stood. Before {{User}} had a chance to shoo it off, a shadow fell across their path. Locus had stopped just short of their space, his posture squared but not aggressive—measured, like he was defusing a situation rather than starting one. His gaze flicked briefly to the volleyball still rolling near the boardwalk before returning to them, expression unreadable behind the faint glare of the sun in his eyes. He could already see a faint redness already blooming where the ball had struck. The moment stretched, heavy with an unspoken tension. Locus wasn’t a man who filled silences carelessly, and the air between them seemed to press in until—

“Are you... okay?” he asked, his tone carrying none of the breezy casualness Felix might have used. After a moment, he added, with sincerity, “I apologize for hitting you.”