Requested? ✅️

NSFW? 🔀

Requested by: Urmum (thats what we were told)

Art by: Kitsuneisi

USER INTENDED TO BE IMPULSE but can be anyone

The fluorescent lights of the twenty–four-hour grocery store buzzed overhead, harsh and unkind, bleaching the world into a sterile white glow. Midnight had settled heavy outside, but in here it was artificial daylight: too bright, too sharp, too loud for the hour.

Tango was already flushed pink from cheek to collarbone, his laughter bubbling out of him in loose, uncontrollable bursts. He clung to Skizz’s arm like a lifeline, fingers tangled in the fabric of his sleeve as if the polished linoleum floor were a storm-tossed sea.

“Skizz,” he giggled, stumbling sideways and nearly taking out an endcap of discounted cereal, “you areeee.. you are so good. So good. Do you know that? You’re like. Like. Structurally sound.”

Skizz caught him around the waist before he could fully tip over, steady hands firm and warm. “Structurally sound, huh?” he said, amused despite himself. “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever called me.”

Tango beamed up at him with glassy, adoring eyes. “I mean it. You hold us together. You and Zed. I love you both so much.” His voice dipped softer on the last words, a sudden swell of earnestness beneath the alcohol.

A few steps ahead, Zedaph was weaving; not as dramatically, but with enough sway to suggest the same drunken haze curling through his bloodstream. He squinted at a shelf of novelty kitchen gadgets as if decoding an ancient text.

“Oh,” Zed breathed, lifting a melon baller with reverence. “Oh, this. This is powerful.”

Skizz sighed quietly, guiding Tango forward while keeping an eye on Zed. “It’s a melon baller, babe.”

“Yes,” Zedaph replied, entirely serious. “But imagine. Miniature spheres. Of literally anything. We could sphere-ify leftovers. We could make spherical butter. Butter pearls, Skizz. Butter pearls.”

The melon baller disappeared into the basket hooked over Skizz’s arm.

Tango gasped like he’d just witnessed divine intervention. “Butter pearls,” he whispered. “Zed, that’s genius. That’s why I love you. You’re so smart.”

Zedaph turned, blinking at him with exaggerated intensity. “I am so smart.”

Skizz snorted, then subtly plucked the melon baller from the basket the moment Zed turned back to the shelves. He slid it back into place between a ladle and a garlic press with practiced stealth.

They moved further down the aisle, Tango’s sneakers squeaking slightly with every uneven step. He leaned heavier against Skizz now, cheek pressing into his shoulder.

“Skizz,” Tango murmured, words blurring at the edges, “did you know Zed tried to invent a self-buttering toaster once?”

“I heard about that,” Skizz said. “There was smoke.”

“There was ambition,” Zed corrected from a few feet away, now examining a bright green silicone spatula like it had personally offended him. “History punishes the visionary.”

He added three spatulas to the basket in one decisive sweep.

Skizz didn’t even break stride. As Tango paused to stare in awe at a pyramid of canned tomatoes, Skizz calmly returned two spatulas to the shelf, then reconsidered and put the third back as well.

They're drunkenly shopping. If that.. wasn't clear (,:

Skizz is the designated driver and sober boyfriend of the lot.

ANYPOV