It Really Bugs Me, You Know

So, as the designated checkbox implies, this work is thematically charged by that hilarious and extremely well-written story about Jin the pool cleaner guy being very flustered and turned on by his very hot client Malos that I'm sure many of us fondly remember from some weeks back. However, it was more directly inspired by a culmination of various computing efforts on the part of yours truly: a random conversation generator with transcription from the TTGC characters' datamined field & battle voice lines. Most days when I'm bored and decide to run it, I don't get anything particularly compelling, but on the night I sat down to write this, after a two-nickels-but-it's-weird-that-it-happened-twice string of Addam calling for Mythra and getting Minoth stealing her thunder every time, I got this absolute gem:

Addam: Aggravating little--!
Minoth: Searching all those nooks and crannies sure took some time.

Well, what with my being absolutely enamored by Minoth's (perhaps only implied) wildlife kinship, I knew exactly what I had to do, and I hope you'll enjoy what I came up with (the exact incipient typed thought was, for the record, "Addam calls an exterminator and he's hot, actually,"). This was a blast to write - again, as I said, it ended up being a pretty strikingly similar scenario to the linked work, and credit where credit is due, but all of it grew pretty organically on its own and soon left any semblance of template far, far behind. Please suspend all your disbelief with a mighty fortitude; you're going to need it.

My recommended listening, if you're into that sort of thing, is Charles Aznavour, and this song is great to start with. And, a fun tidbit courtesy of my genius partner after I regaled them with the loadout of true TTGC field skills: "Mythra has Bitchyology" - unawares and independent of her Girl Talk skill (though she is Miss Not Appearing herein). Neat!

Addam Origo liked to think of himself as a pretty savvy man-about-house, hanging up picture frames here and cobbling together handmade toys there. It matched his personality well enough, and his wife would only tease him endlessly if he wasn't, in fact, the perfect hardware husband.

Well, it was constructive projects and tactile things that he could handle. Pests and provender? Not so much. A green thumb was probably the thing he hungered for most in life, but it eluded him nevertheless, practically outright threatening that he'd never grow the merest sapling until he was too old and gnarled himself to ever see it sprout.

His wife's name was Flora, and she stayed true to her name with delightful succulents and strawberry bushes and just a general springish touch to their whole stonework abode. Neither the plants nor their infant son ever endangered the other, and as long as that was so Addam found that he could make conceding, if a little disgruntled, peace with his perpetual agrarian ineptitude.

When the strawberry bud weevils came out, however, Flora loved to briskly place the matter into his woefully incapable hands and wheel off to work. She'd come home day after day and he'd still be fiddling with traps and toxicants and torsionous snares because the little blighters just wouldn't die-! And it was just a little strawberry bush and love, it isn't worth the aggravation, it's certainly not as if that's our only food to eat, and look, they're not bothering Xander so won't you come sit down, I've brought home pan-fried tartari from that place you like, Pyretta's?

He could tell it annoyed her, even ate at her like the very weevils, a little bit, that her perfect projects were being marauded over by such revolting little creatures, and that the man who should be her knighted prince in silver kneecap (read: foam kneepad) armor couldn't defend her best bastion of floral wonder in the slightest, but what was he to do? It was just as much out of his hands as it was quite literally in his hands, sorry to say.

Ugh. Weevil grubs on his hands. He had to suppress a shuddering shake of his head. Maybe...maybe he'd just hire an exterminator, and have the whole thing done with after all. Would he tell her? Well, that all depended. Maybe he could lend a hand to the undoubtedly expert bug man and claim some credit not entirely spuriously, shall we say.

He looked up the area's relevant firms on the down low, regardless. The first outfit he called went straight to the answering machine. The recorded message was read out by a very bored and yet very potentially portending violence woman's voice: "You've reached Torminix Exterminators. We're probably out right now because we're not done killing the last guy's bugs yet. Give us a call some other time." It was patently obvious that the handset was fastidiously snatched up by another employee just then, one who added a more gracious, if sniveling, tag of "It's never too late to change those insects' fate!"

Well, nothing for that lead, anyway. The next institution proved much more fruitful. "Indolin Pest Control - 'Keeping Pests in Their Place'!" a cheery voice floated over the phone after nary a second's ring. "This is Haze, how may I help you?"

"Ah, hello, uh...er, my name is Addam." Because, of course, he was one of those people who introduced themselves back to the customer service representative - not usually on purpose, mind you, but it happened all the same. "Never mind that - anyway..."

"I've been having a problem with some nasty little beetley fellows eating up my wife's strawberry plants from the inside out. I've tried everything, every kind of gaucherie and gimmick, but they're just so damned persistent!" Whoops, didn't mean to use an expletive! "Oh, sorry," was his comparatively weaker outward apology.

Haze had been humming along with inexorable agreeableness, and now put in a reassuring "Oh, don't worry - we understand perfectly just how frustrating it can be to deal with invasive species situations like these."

Invasive? This called for a gulp (that is, he took one despite himself). "I-is it really that bad? Do you know the kind I'm talking about, then?" He could hear her nod firmly, and decided that she must be a very pleasant person, indeed. "More accurately, they're 'Anthonomus signatus'. They really are beetles, in fact - you've got a good eye there, Mr. Addam!"

"Do I? Well, thanks. I must say, I've never been a very good hand with, ah, the creepy crawlies and the windy whirlies." Haze giggled at his childish terminology, and indeed it bore a sharp contrast to the quasi-encyclopedic knowledge she had just bestowed upon him, but soon enough her mirth was interrupted by a dull, austere voice in the background, though it was impossible to tell if it came from in front of her or behind her, carried low as it was over the line.

"Ms. La Norne, how many times must I tell you? Find out what the customer wants and assign them a technician. No more of this fruitless small talk." Her own voice suddenly became much smaller, answering him, "R-right, Mr. Malthus. I'll get on it at once." Doubtless, the imperious spartan swept away without so much as a further parting word.

Mustering up her strongest erstwhile cheer as she returned to Addam, Haze started in again with gusto. "Okay, when would you like us to send someone out to you? We can offer an arrival window of two hours, though the actual extermination process shouldn't take long." Addam sratched his tilted head in slight confusion, though of course she couldn't see. "It won't? Well, I've certainly been having a beast of a time, myself."

"Nope!" was her swift and decisive reply. "We'll be sending you our best man, and he's very good at his job. Very good." He imagined that she was nodding her head knowingly and wagging a finger imbued with something just as sage. Now that was good news, wasn't it? Addam let out a relieved breath. "Okay then, Haze, I'll take you up on that. Say, the day after tomorrow, around noon?" "Perfect!" she confirmed, scribbling something down in an appointment book.

"Oh, and before we go, I just want to say: your 'fruitless small talk' was much appreciated, and I do hope your boss won't be on your back about it too terribly often." It was the little things that were most important, after all, what really mattered most. "That's...very kind of you, Mr. Addam. Thank you."

"Oh, but look at me, I'm almost forgetting to do my job - that's what he means, you see. Okay...your technician's name is Minoth, and he'll see you between twelve noon and two o'clock sharp on Thursday the 7th. Have a wonderful day!"

"Ah, you too," Addam echoed her, but it was too late; she'd already hung up. Oh, but by the foot of a giant - she'd forgotten to take down his address, nor phone number either. He began to redial, praying that he'd get the endearing receptionist again and not the oppressively sterile Mr. Malthus. To be sure, the man couldn't be all that bad, but all the same he liked the pleasantry.

When that next Thursday the seventh of the month rolled around, it was a sight too humid outside to bear sitting inside in the seepover heat and mug, so Addam hauled the playpen out onto the patio and absently watched Xander play, the child pointing gleefully at every passing butterfly and making objectively adorable cooing faces at the neighbors' cat in the next yard over, an inexplicably doglike Maine Coon named Tora.

Somewhere along the line, Addam had forgotten that contractors usually let themselves up your driveway without ceremony, and even when they did it was usually a full-size van in white or asparagus-flavored green-gold or some other nondescript color. Needless to say, a low-slung vintage pony car in a mysterious flavor of blackish purple was not what he was expecting. Not at all. (Never mind the fact that it was very nearly two o'clock and they were practically late.)

The juxtaposition only deepened when the driver opened the door and stuck a long leg out, well before the rest of him emerged entirely too tall for such a zero-leg-room vehicle. His hair was, proportionately, just as long, tied up in a ponytail much more careful and lustrous than Addam, privately, thought a blue-collar worker, even if in a white-tinged way, had any right to have. The random scar jagging over his left eye then further added to the incongruous portrait.

Jerking his eyes off of the man's face - Minoth was his name, he suddenly remembered - Addam took in the rest of whatever it was that was currently occupying his humble tarmac. His pants looked to be leather just like the seats of his stupidly small car - mustn't he be absolutely sweltering, then?

In the back of his mind, Addam thought he should offer the tall-dark-handsome stranger a glass of lemonade. In the front of his mind, he shouted something incomprehensible at the back half. Somewhere in the middle...absolute emptiness - perhaps nihil chaos, even.

Oh. The handsome stranger was staring up at him - studying him, Addam realized with a gulp. Well, but of course he was. Addam was doing the same to him.

"So," came the first drawled and impossibly dulcet syllable. "You're the strawberry prince, huh?" Damn if this one didn't have an attitude, then - it certainly wasn't Haze or that Malthus fellow who were making up such colorful descriptions! "I've got weevils in my wife's strawberry bushes, yes. I'm not sure if my story's all that scintillating, otherwise," he called back.

Praise be to the good Lord in heaven above, would wonders never cease? He'd returned the swat with excellent and even rather snappy repartée, if he did say so himself - and he did! Minoth didn't appear to be quite so impressed, however, as he ambled shamelessly over the pseudo-garden path and up the paver-stone steps, making a pointed effort to gaze in at Xander. "Cute kid," he offered bluntly. "Er...thanks? I made him myself. In a...manner of speaking."

No, he had not intended to say that. Not in the least. The swivel of Minoth's head so as to align with Addam's eyes as he processed this comment was menacingly slow. "Listen, Prince...either you're a fucking idiot or you're just really flustered. I'm not really sure if this is true if it's the former, but if it's the latter, don't get yourself all in a twist; I like you already." Before Addam could make a rejoinder, Minoth abandoned any conversation that could include the baby as a buffer and cut to the chase.

"Come on, show me those beetles of yours." Between that and the very unfortunate innuendic cadence of "I've got weevils in my wife's strawberry bushes," Addam could feel himself getting very, very red. Luckily, the sun was still blaring down and the humidity was well beyond flushing bounds, so he had a valid excuse. ...Well, not that this cowboy-expy exterminator would be fooled. That much he could tell already.

Addam made to usher them both towards the side of the house not blessed with any modicum of shade, where the strawberries liked to grow, and Minoth's version of following was a careless saunter alongside, rather than straying behind. Addam supposed that was natural enough, but whatever common knowledge he had had on the subject had been wiped well clean this afternoon, it appeared.

When they reached the bushes, Minoth bent over without comment and began to inspect the plants - and call on the good Lord again, because what was this fascinating man wearing? Fucking assless chaps? Over a pair of lighter brown...undergarments? Gosh, fine, call them undergarments, and never mind the material. Was it spandex? More leather? Satin? It was going to be a long, long fifteen minutes.

Addam wished fervently that he could somehow immediately develop a stringent disdain for whatever it was he was witnessing, and yet he couldn't tear his eyes away. He gave thanks a third time that his son couldn't hear his frightfully unseemly, completely undone panic of an internal dialogue. Wait, he'd left him all alone in the playpen unsupervised-! Good heavens, now he'd have to speak to the man after thinking all those...most private thoughts.

"Sorry to bother you already, but I feel dreadfully silly - my son's still up on the patio, I should really go sit with him." Minoth didn't turn around (and, implicit in that, didn't change posture). "Don't sweat it - literally or figuratively. I'm almost done already, and then we can mosey back on up and you can offer me a lemonade like I know you want to."

Addam knew, he just knew, that if this pest of a man - and yes, he would convince himself that he was one if it was the last thing he did - had been looking in his direction he'd have winked, not so saucily as to be audacious, but certainly enough to be salacious.

Ah, what the hell? (See, he was turning over to the dark side now, such a reprobate the minister would never let him back in their church. As if he wasn't thinking other things equally sinful, or really far beyond the pale of a simple denotational invocation of "hot place where all the handsome devils are.") He would engage the foe directly.

"How do you know I want to offer you a drink?" Addam asked, trying to give an inflection of confidence but failing miserably. He could hear the worker let out a snort. "You're not just sweating because it's a sauna out here, Mr. Origo. We both know it, and you know that I know, and I know that you know that I know...in consequence, and so on."

As he spun out this last ludicrous phrase, Minoth stood up, turning on his heel, and dusted off bare hands, carefully juggling a perforated baggie full of weevils between them. "That's it?" Addam was beyond incredulous. This brutal, sultering embarrassment, and "All you did was pick them off with your bare hands? I could have done that! Well, maybe I couldn't have, but practically anyone else could have!"

"Prince, Prince," Minoth placated him, laying a solid hand, far less rough than would be expected, across his own bare shoulder. "Relax. I gave a little extra treatment to the bushes, too. These little varmints won't be back in your lifetime or mine - you can take my word for it."

Addam lifted his chin, crossed his arms. "Is there anything else you want me to take, now that that's over with?" The other man threw his head back and laughed, full-bodied and almost a shout. "Here, take my arm, why don't you? Show your guest a proper welcome, come on, Addam."

And there they were, trudging back across the grass with arms linked and hair frizzling, and indeed, that lemonade did sound rather excellent right about now. They'd never even actually exchanged names, had they? Ridiculous!

True to his word, Addam quickly stepped inside to retrieve the pitcher of fresh lemonade, which was already furiously sweating itself, and a pair of glasses. Xander was still plopped immobile in the center of the playpen, but was making a baby's approximation of furrowed brow up at Minoth, who was staring what looked like wholly endeared right back.

There was a pair of brown gloves tossed carelessly on the table, and Addam would have known in an instant that they weren't his even if his memory of the scene before Minoth had arrived were quite a bit fuzzier: they were leather, just like everything else, of course. Again, ridiculous!

What was the temperature out, anyway? Upon closer inspection, the digital thermostat next to the patio door bleared a miserable 95º. How on earth was he surviving? "Aren't you hot in all that?" Addam blurted out, at last.

Minoth smirked at him, looking like he'd won a prize that he knew he'd earned and hadn't even had to think twice about losing. "I know you think so, and after all what is truth but the chosen actuation of those precious few silent thoughts?" The only silent thought going through Addam's head at that moment was "God, will he ever shut the hell up?"

Glasses clinked and sun glinted. "Well, this is pretty nice. Mind if I stay a while, Addam?" "I...I suppose not, Minoth," Addam said, realizing that this was the first time he'd actually fit his mouth around the odd collection of letters. "But you must have other appointments today, no? Your boss - or supervisor, or whichever, can't have just left you a wide-open schedule." Of course, given that he'd come at the very end of their scheduled period, the day was already much more eaten out than it necessarily needed to be.

Minoth gave a colossal groan. "Thomas A. Malthus can suck my en-tire dick, ass, and balls." "Really?" Addam posed, quizzical and disbelieving. "No, you're right. Not a snowball's chance in hell. But you can." That...that-! Addam blinked furiously, trying as hard as he could to put the enormously offensive non sequitur aside. He must have heard wrong - he simply must have!

"Where's this animosity coming from, anyway? I heard him be a bit of a stiff-arm to Haze in the background, but nothing more than that." With a cavalier wave of his hand, Minoth dismissed any depth there was to it. "Just fucked me over big time when I was a little younger. A bit of a shame, since I used to like the guy and he's a terrific businessman - and I mean that in the worst way. Why do you think Torminix hates him so much?"

"I don't know," Addam allowed carefully, "I never got past the paragon of comportment that was their answering machine message." If Minoth had more knowledge on that specific branch of the topic, he didn't supply it. "Not so much a grudge as a fact of life that we don't get along, but I'm his best employee. Maybe one of these days I'll find myself becoming independently wealthy and I won't need to work for him anymore, eh?"

Oh, Addam didn't like that grin at all - except, that was the awful part about it: he was also quite madly, nigh insufferably, taken by it. "Say, what do you do for a living, Prince?" It was only this far in that Addam began to get a mind to make him stop using that damned infantile moniker. Strawberry prince, indeed. "I'm an accountant - no prince. I work from home. And my wife," he bit the syllable, "is a teacher. That means she works...not from home."

"So she's going to come home eventually, is what you're trying so hard to get me to notice. Well." He huffed a laugh. "If this wife of yours really does exist, I'd quite like to meet her." Of all the gall-! Addam made a wordless, infuriated gesture at the playpen complete with toddler, which Minoth followed obligingly before looking boredly back at him, completely unfazed, like he'd been expecting it. "I'm giving you an out on that terrible joke you made, Prince. Don't let it go to waste."

"That's pretty cushy," Minoth continued, changing the subject back and figuring something up in his head. "Even if she's got a lowball teacher's salary like they all seem to have, you two must be pretty well off." Addam bristled at the easy claim of familiarity with his personal finances, but said nothing. "Ever thought about getting a tertiary income in there?" Oh, no. No, no, no. Time to say something.

Addam summoned his most ardent affront and cleared his throat in preparation. "Stop giving me that womanizing look - gender neutral, or whichever, I don't give a damn - and sit up, will you?" He did as bid, shockingly. "Just what are your intentions? Did you really just come over here to mooch a glass of lemonade and proposition me?" Minoth crossed his arms and somehow sat up even taller. "I came over here to do my job - I'm very good at it, as Haze no doubt mentioned to you."

Addam crossed his own arms in begrudging mirror. "And now your job is done. Thus, you must have some ulterior motive, and based on the way you handled the job, I don't think it's extended quality control." Minoth shrugged. "I already told you. I'm just having such a nice time, it seems a shame to even think about leaving. Ain't that right, Xander?" Xander giggled affably, and if it weren't for the frightfully conspicious embroidered tag sticking out from the side of the toddler's onesie, Addam would have thought Minoth had done some detective work on them before he'd come.

"Did you ever stop to consider that perhaps you're overstaying your welcome? Somehow I don't think you've ever had to suffer anyone else the indignity of living with you." Living with him? Goodness, perish the thought - they hadn't even gotten past this unfortunately hostile first interaction in one piece, yet. His guest was leaning back in the wrought-iron chair again now, boots (literal cowboy boots! with gold filigrees and treads somehow still in perfect condition) propped up on another chair and hands akimbo behind his head.

"You'd have to ask my current housemate about that. He's a big guy, and he doesn't take any shit, but you wouldn't know that because he's the nicest man you'll ever meet the overwhelming majority of the time." Much nicer than you, surely, Addam thought to himself.

And yet, he had fine manners and certainly carried himself well, so what was the deal? What on earth was his deal? Addam's train of conflicted thoughts was summarily interrupted by another musing from Minoth. "Now my college roommate...he was a different story. Very particular about his hair and the smartest jock you'd ever meet, but he was an asshole what he wanted you to believe was through and through."

"You went to college?!" There were any number of stresses Addam could have put on the sentence, from back to front expressing incredulity at the possibilities that higher education was even on the periphery, that this man would ever deign to steer his absurd little vehicle through the parking permit hoops of any respectable university, that such an event was well in the past, or the one he had gone with in the end: him? The insect whisperer in a leather leotard?

Minoth looked at him sideways through squinted eye, the other fully shut. "Careful, Prince. I wouldn't try that tack with anyone who isn't quite as enamored with you as I am." Oh, just say it so casually like that, why don't you? And thanks for the free advice, into the bargain.

"Of course I went to college. I studied theater, actually. Hey, close your mouth, the gnats'll get in. My roommate, like I mentioned, was a computer science major and absolutely insufferable, always moping around after one of my poli-sci friends and letting his twin sister and her girlfriend traipse right through the room at all hours of the day."

"Oh really? And what were their majors?" Such useless, inane information, yet Addam found himself eagerly requesting it anyway. "More computer science, and gender studies, I think." And why exactly was Minoth telling him all this, anyway? He probably just felt the need to prove a point, after all. "Okay, so you went to college, alma mater and all. Congratulations."

"Ah, ah, I'm growing on you, aren't I?" Minoth cackled triumphantly, tilting the chair back to terra firma and pointing a victorious finger. "You're getting sarcastic now - that's what I like to hear." "And why, pray tell, is that?" Addam felt, rather unfortunately, actually curious despite himself and all self-preservatory instincts.

Minoth shrugged once more, back to casual and in control of the situation. "'Cause. The more hot and bothered I get you - actually hot and actually bothered, not your sun and sand act - the more likely it is I'll get to kiss you before I go on my merry way."

The very insolence! "I. Have. A. Wife." Addam choked out. "How many times must I tell you?" The hand waved in air carried tremendous temerity. "So, I'll kiss her too. That's equality, isn't it? Learned that from Nia - the sister's girlfriend, you know. Say, Xander, you want a hug?" Thankfully he had the apparent good conscience not to toss off something so insensitive as an "I'll kiss the baby, too!"

"Wha- I- You leave him out of this! It really bugs me, you know, how you think you can come in here and do one little bit of menial labor - not even, really, at that - and think you're suddenly ingratiated into my household!" Now Minoth threw both hands up in a conceding gesture. "Fine, fine, I can tell when I'm not wanted. Your bill'll probably come out in three business days, or whatever jargon they use. Nice doing business with you, Prince." He stood with a theatrical air, and his retreating figure moving back down towards the driveway was more enticing than Addam wanted to admit.

"You're leaving? Just like that?" And, of course, the cowboy turned back with a roguish smile. "Make it worth my while, and I might not. How's that?" Addam felt the laziest of smiles blossom over his own lips. When Minoth ambled back into his personal space and took his chin in hand, Addam could only make the barest motion to cover Xander's eyes, but he soon forgot all about his son - shameful, yes, but...it was worth it.

"We should..." he awkwardly cleared his throat, "...we should sit down, shouldn't we." The only agreement he got was a low hum as Minoth nuzzled the hair around his temples with his nose. It seemed that when one got more sarcastic, the other got less - and what did that mean for the rules of this ridiculous little escapade? Addam scooped Xander up and Minoth wrangled the playpen through the laundry room until they could resituate it in the kitchen, near the breakfast nook. He would probably just nap peacefully, now.

"Would you look at that..." "What?" Addam felt more than a little snappish, still. "I'm all sweaty from my back-breaking menial labor out in the strickening heat." "You should take a shower, then," Addam bumbled back. Minoth's grin was electric now. "That's right. But Addam, you're a frugal man, surely - all that time spent cooking the books, you're not one to waste good money, are you?"

"I don't see what- well, yes, I suppose that's so." "That's so," Minoth echoed him, nodding sagely. "And if that's so, and if I should take a shower, and if you're going to let me use your facilities, why then, it's only economical for you to join me. What say you?" Heaven forbid this entire encounter - just forbid it, wholesale! "I say that I'd better get done the rest of my grumbling about you now, because your face is so damned handsome that I'm sure I'm wholly unprepared for the rest of you."

Minoth looked so very like a cat upon hearing that. "The rest of me, huh? Where do you wanna start?" Addam made a sharp point to the ponytail, snapping his fingers as he did so. "That ponytail. Either you keep it up because you're dreadfully ugly without it, or because all of us mere mortals could never handle your true, unmitigated beauty." Feline smugness turned into almost giddy delight: Minoth never could have imagined it would go quite this well.

"Such praise, Addam!" he preened uselessly. "Almost makes me wanna-!" But Addam knew what he wanted and cut him off with the delivery of that very thing. Once he'd gotten Minoth to reciprocate with hands on shoulders, he reached forward and pulled out the hair tie with an awkward flourish. The hair remained stuck up in a learned shape for a few moments, but once Minoth pulled back and shook it out, it all came tumbling down.

It was the latter, the latter, oh so definitely the latter. "Holy fuck. Holy fuck, Minoth." The named man made a deliberate show of cracking his neck and rolling the muscles with two carefully arched fingers before replying. "I know I should chide you for your language - it's practically prewritten into the script of cliché - but that was hot, so...why don't I make you do that again?" Why don't you, indeed.

Dizzily, Addam led him through the master bedroom into the bathroom adjacent. Once there, he had three more occasions to swear: when Minoth dropped the chaps, confirming that what lay underneath was in fact a pair of fairly tight spandex undershorts; when he pulled off his already form-fitting tank top, revealing a broad chest marred only by a single deep gash directly in the center (there were also faint lines under his pecs, but very faint), which he must have been referring to when he put a sedulous finger to his lips in a hushing gesture; and when, at last, he removed the shorts. (Sorry to interrupt your respectful looking, Addam, but one must also note the conspicuous ragged scars on the very inside edges of his thighs; of course, to the current reverent observer they just looked like beautiful streaks of lightning in a sea of dark.)

Addam didn't know what to actually say about this last action. Somehow, he'd implicitly agreed to sharing a shower with another man, but as a former competitive swimmer (well, in high school, anyway), he didn't expect either trepidation or exhibitionism when it came to revealing, ah, the goods. Only matter-of-fact-ness, right? Minoth's hands were offering, congenial, respectful as they fluttered about Addam's waist, ready to remove his quite frankly lame polo shirt or his much more possibly seductive belt, so that was close, anyway.

It would be vast impropriety indeed to discuss in detail whatever happened inside the tiled confines of the shower stall, but most of what Addam could remember was Minoth washing his back in between nips at his ears and neck and shoulders, and every time Addam tried to turn around to look at him he'd instantly get insistently turned back, and Minoth would only get more businesslike in his ministrations.

"This really isn't fair, you know," he'd said, almost whined. "In this whole rigamarole you can't pretend that you don't know I was...enjoying the view from behind you." "And turning around to interrupt me helps how?" Touché. "Well...it's something, anyway." Minoth only laughed...rather giggled, in fact. "Mmm, you're smitten, darling. Very adorable."

"Besides," he continued, "the part of you I like best is your front, for a variety of reasons, so I'm not exactly getting my kicks right now either." "Oh? Then what a waste of time this is, hmm?" Addam rather hated the way his voice bounced off the walls - he'd long ago quelled his habit of singing in the shower once he'd realized just how embarrassing it could be. The way Minoth's voice sounded, however, was absolutely intoxicating.

He was about to say more toward the end of switching positions when two strong, soapy hands came looping in around his chest. Something else behind him was also very close, but he wasn't going to think about it. That is, he was going to try his damnedest not to think about it. That is, he was going to lose himself in thoughts about it. Damn it, the truth will out and the truth was out, alright?

"Can't kiss you like this," Minoth mumbled into his shoulder, thankfully distracting Addam from his...other appendage. "Mmm, no, you can't. Did you want to change that?" Perhaps they did, perhaps they didn't, it was impossible to remember or perhaps even know, but Addam distinctly remembered thinking that Minoth couldn't possibly have heard his string of cursing moans like he'd apparently so wanted to since their mouths were so close together nigh constantly the rest of the time.

Eventually, precious eventually, the water was off and the steam had cleared and they were, rather bluntly, left standing naked in the empty shower. They were clean, as their goal had been, but Addam still felt horribly dirty when his first thought came to check up on Xander. He wasn't sure if he should offer Minoth fresh clothes - somehow he felt that the man would be very particular about things like that, and certainly he wouldn't argue that his outfit of arrival had been very handsome. Maybe he could just wear the undershorts again...?

Well, but let's not spare any further thoughts to undergarments, shall we? Addam pulled out another of myriad pairs of chino shorts, plus a second just in case, and when he turned to move to the closet for a shirt, Minoth was staring at him with a very unimpressed look. "Something wrong?" he asked meekly. "I'm not wearing those," came the flat reply.

"Well, okay, that's fine-" Minoth kept on talking heedless of his most recent tone. "Not that there's anything wrong with them, Prince - of course, you look very cute in them. But for me? Not a chance." Grumbling for no specific reason, Addam resigned himself to rummaging in the back of the dresser for something with a less preppy cut, perhaps a pair of old jeans? Ah, yes. Oh, and look, they even had a flare at the bottom, perfect.

Minoth accepted the garment with gratitude and a stolen kiss, because of course Addam had already forgotten the reason he was getting dressed with someone who was not his wife in the room. From the closet, Addam finally retrieved a short-sleeved tropical-floral-patterned button-down for himself and the one odd long-sleeved article of the same type that he kept shoved in the back for...just this occasion, apparently.

He knew he looked more like a perpetual Daddam than a twenty-eight-year-old Addam in any outfit, and certainly in this one, but nevertheless when he retrained his gaze on Minoth after leaving a respectful opportunity for re-robing (on second thought, why had he even bothered?) the man still looked hotter than the sun. It was incredibly maddening and so, of course, Addam guided him back into the kitchen by way of his lips primarily, his hands secondarily.

Xander was, sure enough, still asleep and only a little fitful. Minoth gave Addam an asking glance, and upon receiving consent from the father reached down and ran an achingly gentle hand over the tousled little head. The two men, then, ventured further on into the den, where Minoth readily heaved onto the couch first and pulled Addam after him into his lap.

Addam looked rather confused by the event, so Minoth attempted to explain it to him, in a roundabout way: "Well, now I'm all showered off, but I'm still, oh, awful tired. Good thing there's such a handsome man here to kiss until I fall asleep. What a stroke of luck for both of us!" Oh, was that all? Fair enough, and that's what they did to pass the next hour-and-something until the fateful return of the wife.

They made a little bit of small talk as they sat, stuff like "How come you got this much free time to make out with me today?" "Tax season is over." A simple enough reason. And, more pressingly: "Say, Addam." "Mmm?" "What's your wife's name?" "Flora," Addam provided with a knowing groan. "Pretty..." Minoth murmured, and tucked Addam back into the hollow of his shoulder before he could argue any more.

When she pulled in to the driveway at a sharp quarter after five, Flora of course took immediate notice of the foreign (to her) car parked in prime spot, but just chalked it up to some distant and/or extended friend of Addam's begging a place to keep it for a day or a week; that happened more often than you would think, because he was a true bleeding heart for things like that. Well, it was half that and half that he was just a bit of a pushover, sometimes.

"Hello? Anybody home?" She usually made the quip more rhetorically than anything, but since she didn't get an answer it seemed like a fair enough question, in retrospect. "Oh, Xander, how are you, sweetie?" Upon picking him up, the first thing she noticed was the red cast over his forehead. "You're all burnt! Addam, did you forget to put sunscreen on him? Oh, let me get some aloe." Minoth was saved from having to supply a close-lipped "uh-uh" by her quick decision on a course of action.

He listened to her clopping heels march around the kitchen at speed for the next several minutes as she hummed to herself and did what sounded like organizing miscellaneous bits and bobs in a bowl of keys, filling a pitcher of water, and setting the table. (Absently, he wondered if those were usually Addam's jobs - oh well.) After some time, the clopping stopped; more careful listening revealed that she had switched to a pair of ballet flats. Minoth found that he liked her already - but of course! He'd known from the start that he would. That is, once he'd decided that she did, in fact, exist in the first place.

Before long, the idle conversation started up again. "I stopped at Pyretta's again, love, but I decided to get dumpling soup instead of tartari tonight - it seems like the same type of dish, so I think you'll still like it, and Xander can have some too." Inwardly, Minoth was delighted - his favorite, they might as well have baked him a cake! - but outwardly he just gave what he hoped sounded like a generically pleasant and agreeable groan.

"Did you work on the strawberry bushes today?" Well now, they were up against it, sure enough. "Sure did," Minoth called back in a chillingly accurate parrot of Addam's voice that made its owner jump in his sleep a touch. Too soon, Flora was bustling in with a very predictable towel-drying-hands preoccupied gesture. "You sound tired - must have really worked hard, huh?"

"...huh?" She was tiny, not much more than five feet tall, and had rich dark brown hair in two neat plaits, cut against by striking blue eyes. Caught red-handed, Minoth could only wink at her, but he felt that it was a good one, anyway. Hopefully even if he wasn't acting his smoothest he still wouldn't get burned here.

"Addam, who's...that wasn't Addam, was it?" Her face had flushed something awful at the wink, and her freckles came into striking relief now. "Xander, do you know who this is?" If nothing else, at least her son, infant unawares in the other room though he was, would still be on her side. Xander only giggled again - he seemed to like doing that. Whose side was he on, in fact, anyway?

Clearing his throat, Minoth gave the first offering of his real voice. "I'm right here, madam, so why not ask me?" "Yes, well." The poor towel was being mercilessly worked to within an inch of its life. "I'm not sure I do want you to be here, so. So there."

Minoth wanted very badly to kiss Addam to wake him up, but that would be in rather poor taste, now wouldn't it? He settled for a plain old jostle. "Wha- yes, yes, I'm up. Oh, Flora. Flora! Flora. Flora..." His rampant waffling was in no small part due to the bore gaze she was training on him much despite her own agitation.

"This is, ah...this is Minoth! He helped me get rid of those pesky weevils this afternoon." "And is that all he helped you do, Addam?" She gave his name a fierce and fearsome stress, and Minoth began to doubt himself...just a little bit.

"He, er...he helped me take a shower?" Not a euphemism, not in the least. "And just how old are you, Addam? I can't remember the last time you seemed to need help doing a thing like that, and I knew you for quite some years before we were married." The gaze and gait gave a dagger twist, again, on the last word.

Addam hung his head. "You're right, of course, but-- But he wouldn't leave! He showed up at quarter to two, did what he came out here for, and then he just wouldn't leave! So it's hardly my fault." Minoth's grin was supremely lazy beneath him. "Go on, Addam, tell her what I said." He hated that he knew exactly what Minoth meant, but continued, "He said that he'd kiss you too - for equality, of course."

Flora's first reaction, naturally, was shock and appallment, but then, as Addam and Minoth could both tell, she thought about it. In depth. "Oh." was all she could come up with, after a minute or so. "Well. That's...certainly something to consider." "Flora!"

"What, you're going to stop me? How would that be for furthering equality of the sexes, hmm?" "Flora!" Addam cried out again, unsure of the exact quantified gain of repeating himself, but then he quieted his perturbation. "You...you're not mad at me, then?"

"Well, of course I'm a little annoyed that you did it without telling me, but I think I can understand why." "You can?" "Why, yes. He's very attractive." And Addam should have been righteously indignant at the outrageous amounts of eyes Minoth was making at his wife, but instead he just felt warm and content, to say nothing of relieved.

Now that they'd finished tussling above him, Minoth held out a conciliatory and inviting hand. "Thank you kindly for the compliment, Flora. Might I offer you a seat on your sofa?" He accented the crucial word emphasizing the absurdity of it all, and she just blushed more, because of course he was smooth and charming and somehow everything Addam wasn't in all the best ways that there were left over from how much she loved her husband.

"Well...certainly I'm at liberty to take a seat on my own sofa whenever I like, but if I want to trade places with Addam, which I do want to do, then he'd have to get up, and I don't think he wants to do that." Minoth rolled his eyes in affectionate amusement. "Have it your way. My arms are long, I'm strong enough, I'll hold you both." "You're certainly welcome to try," Flora conceded, taking his proffered hand at last.

Somehow she slipped into an awkward slanting position because yes, Addam was being very selfish and burrowing himself into his current piece of hard-won (not really) cowboy real estate with all his might, so when he eventually, inevitably, fell down to the floor out of his own hubris, Minoth clung to Flora very tightly, to keep her from tumbling down with him, so tightly as to bring their faces very conveniently close together...for equality, after all, yes?

Neither spared a single solitary thought to helping Addam up as he grumpily righted himself and rubbed at his injured back (and pride, no doubt). Minutes passed, and they were still in their own little world, and soon enough he simply had to say something.

"Do you two want to starve, or are you just going to subsist on each other's lips from now on?" Flora peeled herself off of Minoth just long enough to punt back a "Jealous much, love?"

"Not jealous, more so scandalized," he muttered indignantly. "What was that you said, quarter to two? I'm not so much being promiscuous as beating your record, I think," Flora snipped in clear, unbothered tone. The thought made Addam a little sick.

"Ladies, gentlemen, occupants of this address, calm yourselves - there's enough of me to go around!"

The line was so horribly hackneyed (even Minoth thought so; he'd cringed a touch as he'd delivered it) that no one said anything for a few silent moments. Eventually, Addam bit out a "Well, I'm hungry."

Dinner was remarkably peaceful, and Flora looked more and more enchanted with every passing word that came out of Minoth's mouth. There was just something about the way he told a story, the way he gestured with his spoon that made it look sharp and sparkling even though it was just a humble piece of pewter silverware and technically covered in a thin film of brothy seafood stock (and probably dried saliva and...whatever else, but that was immaterial, you see!).

Addam felt himself getting, quite honestly, a little pissy at the whole affair, because the day's milieu had gone from defending his wife's honor on a pitifully suburban patio built of creaking pavers to being made to watch as another man swept up her heart in velveteen tones. Minoth seemed to notice this, of course, and bumped his foot under the table at all the right moments and none of the wrong ones - suddenly, he didn't mind so much, all over again.

Cleaning up was a similar affair, with Flora washing, Addam drying, and Minoth putting away. He made a point to whisper conspiratorially "Hey Xander, where does this go?" for each piece, and Xander gladly pointed him to what was either a random place or decidedly the wrong place, on purpose. Huh, Minoth thought upon opening a cabinet with a sliding rack upon which dessert plates were placed, I don't really think forks go here, but whatever.

"You fancy a game of Clattertongue Ratscrew, Minoth?" Addam asked when they had done. "Sounds kinky. Why not?" "Not as much fun with just three people, is why not," Flora provided wisely, ignoring his crass crack. "We usually play with our neighbors - a pair of the fieriest and most fiercely competitive women I've ever seen." "I'm not convinced Brighid doesn't keep a lighter up her sleeve for when she needs an edge," Addam agreed.

"So, we'll deal Xander a hand. Simple." Minoth had lifted him out of his high chair by now and was making faces just ripe for some second-hand embarrassment on the part of the parents. They dealt out four hands, indeed, but when it came time for Xander to play a card, the three adults ended up taking turns flipping over one of his cards for him.

Eventually, after watching enough slaps on the center deck, he began to imitate them. Minoth was initially knocked out practically from the jump, but he quickly slapped back in and soon eliminated Addam and Xander before he and Flora became locked in a tense back-and-forth. One fateful red ten down, and Xander's chubby little hand was tragically trapped beneath Flora's slim palm.

Her first instinct was to kiss it better, as she had just played her last card, while Minoth took in the reality that a something-like-two-year-old was about to give him the smackdown in a teenager's card game. After a series of boring card after boring card amounting to not a single interesting combination (and they were playing with a cadre of special rules to boot), just one desperate incorrect slap was all it took for Minoth to find himself brought low by the triumphant toddler.

"Oh, my clever little boy - look at that, we've won!" Flora exclaimed as she scooped Xander up into her lap. "Excellent work, Xander!" Addam added, running a fond thumb over his miniature cheek before following it in with a kiss. Minoth was doubly, triply, quadruply irked by every laugh that escaped the boy's mouth, because apparently now Xander was decidedly not on his side.

"Hey, who said he was playing for the house?" Minoth demanded at last. All three Origos swiveled owlish heads toward him. "Would you rather we say that he beat you outright?" Flora asked mischievously. Oh, time to backpedal, and hard. "N-no, that won't be necessary." Weak! What a waste.

In fact, he'd said it with the same exact inflection of frantic apprehension as he'd had that time Haze and her girlfriend had taken him to a gay bar and Lora had invited him to take her on at arm wrestling after she'd completely obliterated some chump named Cressidus, but they didn't need to know that.

The mountain of a man (at the time, Minoth had wished fervently that he'd brought Vandham along, even though he knew his own big man probably wouldn't have offered him any help, only guffawed at his distress) had come with a twinky-looking fellow named M-something - Michael? Mickey? - who smiled way too much to be entirely right in the head. A sad kind of act for the kid to have to put on, doubtless for a perfectly good reason, and Minoth didn't pry.

Anyway. He stood up then. "Well, not to be a sore loser, but I think it's time I make my exit. Thanks ever so much for the wonderful company, Addam, Flora." They were now as dumbfounded as he had been just a second ago after taking his bitter, bitter defeat, and peered woefully shyly up at him from the carpeted floor. "Wait, aren't you - won't you stay?"

Minoth shook his head, a little wistful and a little disbelieving. "Nah, I don't live out of the trunk of my car - it's a little small for that anyway, isn't it? Unless you want me to leave and come back...?" Addam and Flora shared a glance, then turned back to him and nodded in slow tandem. He laughed warmly. "If you say so. I'll just let old Vandham know he's on his own for the night."

"Just for the night?" Flora suddenly asked, bolder than she'd ever dreamed. "What, are you going to book me in for a three-day two-night vacation? I won't pretend that I haven't been incredibly brazen, but there's no need to do anything crazy." "Well, but if you're just going to keep coming back every night..." Minoth rubbed his jaw appraisingly. "Very practical, isn't she? All in the name of efficiency, and no more - no more!"

"But you can't be serious, can you?" he asked gravely, coming down from the quip. Flora didn't look so sure, after all. "It's so silly, I know, but I'm not one to go back on my word. I said what I said, so do with that what you will." She needed to convince herself just as much as she needed to convince the other two with her, and didn't seem to be putting much effort towards either endeavor regardless. With that said, Minoth took matters into his own hands.

"Alright then, take two, from the top: If you say so. I'll just let old Vandham know he's on his own for the rent. Heh, maybe that birdbrain freeloader Roc will finally start paying their fair share, too. That sound alright to you two?"

"It sounds like crazy talk, you know that, Flora?" Addam burst in. "We dated for months before either of us got up the guts to so much as give a peck on the cheek without asking first!" "Addam, Addam, Addam. My prince," Minoth started, and Addam got an unexpectedly pleasant queasy feeling in his stomach even though he was so definitely not in the mood.

"I am but your humble guest," he said, spreading his arms wide in supplication. "I won't say that I don't agree with you that it's crazy, but I also won't say that I wouldn't love the opportunity to so quickly become better acquainted with both - all three - of your lovely selves. Flora's right, I would find myself coming back over here every chance I get. Wouldn't it be nicer just to keep me around de facto?"

He offered a hand to both of the seated individuals, hauling them up from the floor with ease and summarily capping off the conversation. "Come on, walk me out, why don't you?" Deciding to fall in with the ridiculous affair after all, because, well, damn it all, Addam recalled their first touch of that afternoon and threaded his arm around Minoth's elbow, and Flora followed suit, shifting Xander wholly to her left side. As they made their way out the door, she tried to put together more of the loose pieces of the day.

"Oh - that little coupe out in the driveway is yours, isn't it? I didn't expect a contractor to come in something like that. More one of those asparagus-reminiscent vans, you know." Jerking forward, Addam waved a wild, insistent finger at her, adding "That's exactly what I was thinking!"

Minoth snorted, at both of them. "Come on, with style and swagger like this? You wouldn't catch me dead driving a pissmobile like that." Both Origos rankled at the crass termage, a little bit, but he wasn't wrong. They exited through the front door this time, taking the pocket-sized sidewalk under a large birch tree that canopied the front yard.

The early evening air was blessedly cool, even if only in contrast to the merciless day, and Flora leaned happily against Minoth as they walked. Eventually, they came to a standstill that served no purpose besides just letting them appreciate the most eager fireflies and the bask of the moon, and Minoth had to break the silence.

"Anyway, I'd better get going if I'm ever going to make it back to y'all at any semblance of a reasonable hour," he said, and they made no protest. He dropped a kiss on each of their cheeks and then, after considering something, brushed a final kiss over the top of Xander's head, before wordlessly strolling over to his car and slipping easily in. Once inside, he gave a single wave, barely perceptible through the heavily tinted windows, and revved the engine.

After said little coupe had peeled out once again, Addam turned to Flora and took a very, very deep breath. "We're...we're in trouble, aren't we?" "We? I don't feel particularly troubled," Flora answered him calmly, even giddily. "Fine, I'm in trouble! We don't know his age, or his last name, or where he lives, or-" "Don't we? He lives here now." Addam near about crossed himself. "Don't remind me."

"Addam." She pulled him back into the house after her and bid him follow her to Xander's room to tuck him in for the night. "You know he's very understanding - we definitely want him to stay the night, but if more than that is really so preposterous, which I could surely understand, then you can just tell him so. ...when he gets back, because we don't have his phone number."

"What, are you afraid of the big bad cowboy?" she teased in response to his bemused look. "Big bad cowboy," Addam echoed, then snorted. "He comes moseying up the steps and the first thing he does is start in calling me the 'strawberry prince'."

"Oh, is that what that was about? Cute," Flora pronounced. "I wouldn't call him cute so much as dreamy..." And just like that, the prince of a sweet little fruit was lost in reverie.

His lady gave a final smoothing to their son's auburn hair before encouraging him to "Say good night to Papa, Xander, there's a good boy," and he probably said something appropriate for a not-quite-two-year-old that I won't repeat here because, well, no need to embarrass the lad when he's riding so high on his great recent success in gambling and adjacent activities.

Ably dragging Addam back into the abode proper, Flora pulled out a book of crossword puzzles and a pen - she never bothered with a pencil - from her stash and set to solving. In general, she got along pretty well with most of the clues, and Addam lackadaisically supplied all those silly precious few that she somehow missed. So wrapped up did they get in confounded search for trivial knowledge that they soon rather forgot about their erstwhile guest.

He made pretty good time to his old residence, all in all. "Well, Vandham," Minoth called out as he wheeled into the condo with arms once again spread wide, "I'm finally leaving you in the lurch, you big lug." At the initial call, Vandham had heaved up from his seat at the table in the dining room, which was really the same as the sitting room, and the foyer too, and now lumbered closer to the door.

"What, you pulled a bloke? Congrats, old man," he cried, slapping Minoth rather incongruously on the back. "Not just a bloke, but a bird, too," Minoth corrected, then stopped and frowned. "That's...not like me, and that's not what I should be calling them either, anyway. They're wonderful people, with good jobs and a lovely home and a beautiful little boy."

"In other words," Vandham began appraisingly, "they're nothing like you in the least." The cowboy sighed and shook his head. "Nothing like me in the least - you can say that again." "No point, you already did," the big man rejoined, barking a laugh. "And in other other words, you mean the guy's a right boyish lookin' fella with huge tits, and the dame really does seem like a bird, or a flower, or something else you'd write in one of those sappy little stories of yours."

"Her name's Flora," Minoth said quietly, then whipped head complete with ponytail around. "Wait, how did you know that?" "I dunno, mate, me 'n' Roc jus' seem to know things. It's like our little special superpower, eh?" Roc gave a knowing cackle from their perch on the arm of a chair in the sitting room side of the apartment. "Sounds good to me, Vandham!"

"Yeah, yeah, you 'just seem to know things,' sure. Like as not that's just my fault for letting slip things I shouldn't have - which means I'm not giving you my new address because I don't trust your official new housemate not to lockpick their way in in the middle of the night, just for a prank," Minoth finished, jerking a swaggering thumb in Roc's direction; the third occupant only crowed another laugh.

"So you're off, just like that?" Vandham asked wonderingly. "That's right!" Minoth replied, relishing the thought as he traipsed back into the inner sanctum of his bedroom. "See, I always knew keeping frugal would come in handy - not so much to move now, is it?" "Sure, sure, you're a genius, Minoth. Whatever you say."

It only took two trips with the three of them hauling boxes together to get everything Minoth owned loaded into the back of his car, plus a single smaller item he placed reverently into the passenger seat and buckled in. "Alright, well, abyssinia, folks!" he called up once the other two had made it back up to their floor and out to the balcony to wave, and then he was off again.

Taking a shortcut through an industrial park led him, as it happened, directly past Indolin on his left, and he didn't hesitate to roll down the window and flip an emphatic middle finger up as he passed the building, even - or perhaps especially - blessed (cursed?) as he was with the knowledge that his boss stayed there after all hours, practically lived there, all in the name of serving greater glory to the proud auspices of his mother who'd left him the business.

She'd hated it, in fact, and why shouldn't she, but he refused to admit that. Oh well, a job's a job's a job, and if Minoth actually had a habit of doing this every time with ritual commitment and without fail, well...well, well, well. So he did.

His petite and very stylish (he didn't even need to say so himself) mode of transportation could make a great ruckus upon starting if he so chose, but when running it remained fairly quiet. So, when Minoth turned back into the Origo's driveway and purred into the same spot he'd taken that afternoon, it was far too self-defeatingly easy to unceremoniously cut the motor, crank the seat recliner all the way back, and stare up at the sagging cloth of the ceiling. Because, after all, it was indeed entirely too capricious and insane, and he had begun to doubt himself mightily once again.

Inside, Flora and Addam had finished their second crossword, this one with far less cheating to the back page and the subsequent slap-fight arguing it engendered, and were starting a third when Flora mused an absent, harmless thought. "How far away do you think he could possibly live?" "Well, the exterminators' headquarters are half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes, from here, so by triangulation...an hour and a half, at most?"

"Oh, well if I were him I wouldn't ever dream of doing all that driving in one night. Maybe he decided not to come back?" "Oh, perish the thought," Addam muttered, but followed patiently behind Flora as she went to turn on the floodlight sconces by the garage, just in case. And of course, the spots of blacktop they lit up were not half so empty as had been expected.

"Minoth? Is that you? What are you doing out here?" He had his eyes covered with the back of one hand as they approached, the window still open from earlier, but nevertheless gave the limp excuse of "A little light reading." "Of the safety warning on the sun visor? In the dark?" The students Flora taught every day gave smarter excuses than this for much lesser crimes, for goodness's sake!

"You don't have to stay at all if you're not comfortable, you know," Addam said quietly. "Although, at this point I'd just feel bad that we didn't put you up as a weary traveler." Minoth laughed softly. "You're really beautiful, you know that, Prince?" "So you've told me...I'd say I don't quite know how that figures in, but it seems it figures in to an awful lot."

"Well, you know. If I had been living out of the trunk of my car, this wouldn't be so weird at all, and indeed I'm not quite as put-together as I may seem. A little stumblebum, you might say." "And you feel you fit here much better than you do wherever you just came from?" Minoth nodded slowly, gratefully. "I kinda forced myself in with all the bravado, but it was so much nicer than just all that."

"This feels far too serious for a day like this," Flora said, briskly straightening up. "Come on, come inside now - and don't bother bringing anything but yourself." Minoth sheepishly obeyed, but with the minor caveat that he plucked up the contents of the passenger seat as well.

"What's that you've got there?" Addam asked once they had passed their companionable silence into the house. Minoth wrested aside the cloth that covered the top with pride - it was adorable, really. "That's a stick bug, as you probably know, and the other is a blue milkweed beetle." "And you...keep them as pets?" Addam managed to get out, because, well, how could anyone with the job he had also do that?

"Yeah. That one's Cole - he's a grumpy old codger, and thinks he's so smart, but he snaps at me every time I try to get at my Iona. Now she's a beaut, and very sweet. I'd just about dote on her if he'd only give me the chance."

How could one dote on a beetle, for heaven's sake? Well, yes, it - she - was very pretty, but only in an aesthetic sort of way, not in a way that could inspire this what seemed to be almost paternal affection. Xander had better not develop a penchant for eating bugs any time soon, that much was for sure. Well, never mind that, there were more important things to discuss.

"So, Minoth." "So, Addam," he replied, not untraining his gaze from the insect cage. "Haze never gave me your last name, and since we have this little...arrangement going on now, I believe it's pretty important that we know." Minoth's only answer was a surprisingly triumphant exclamation of "Castigo!"

It sounded more like a flourishing battle cry than anything else, but given that it also sounded vaguely romantic (in the vein of languages, of course) and matched his demeanor, both Addam and Flora soon deduced that he had, in fact, answered the question posed to him.

Flora, however, was quickest to the punch. "Castigo? That's pretty close to Origo, isn't it?" "Hmmm...yeah, I suppose it is. You wanna make it even closer?" he offered slyly. Blank stares, blanker than any fresh whiteboard. "I'm joking, I'm joking!" Addam forced a cough to try to coax some color back into his face. "Ask us again in a month or two, won't you?" And, well, maybe he did, maybe he didn't...perhaps you'll just never know.

Much later that night, Addam found himself indulging in quite a few of the privileges that Mr. A. Malthus was purportedly not allowed to enjoy. And then, later than that, he found both himself and Flora lounging on top of a well-asleep Minoth who didn't snore because of course he didn't, he was just perfect like that. His right forearm curling protectively and even possessively over Addam's right pectoral muscle and his left forearm wrapped contentedly around Flora's waist were practically the only signs that he was even there.

"You know, this is such a very silly thing you did, Addam." "Me?! You're the one who invited him to stay indefinitely!" "Maybe so, but you're the one who called him out here in the first place." "Well...but wasn't it a rather even exchange? More profitable, even?" "Oh yes, it was very clever of you, dear."

And they weren't looking, and it was much too dim even if they had been, but a blissful smile crossed over Minoth's face at the thought of how very much he liked to hear their voices - and arguing about him, of all things! His strawberry prince and princess, indeed.

*rots your teeth and also your brain*

Minoth: My work here is done.
Addam: But you didn't do anything! I hate you.
Minoth: I will now refuse to leave.
Addam:
Minoth:
Addam:
Flora: What in the fresh hells is this?
Minoth:
Flora:
Addam:
Minoth:
Flora: You better not leave.

Don't ask me what this is; at this point I honestly don't know. If I had to guess, I'd say it's just a hell of an concept rolled through with a devilish commitment to not including a single hr tag. I would say that I'm trash and this is stupid implausible bullshit and please leave your meanest comment telling me so, but it got serious at the end? I mean, of course, you can't just write eleven thousand words of anything, even if by accident, without actually putting effort into it, but I wonder if perhaps I am incapable of executing anything seriously in such a way that it could even hope to be perceived otherwise. To that end, I am very eagerly soliciting comments that will guess at the exact nature of how/why Amalthus fucked Minoth over (there are hints within, of course, but the biggest one is that what was just supposed to be 2K of modern AU crack somehow ended up being vaguely about sad little transbi Minoth - happy pride! :).

Yes, obviously Addam, if only this Addam, would be a golfer, but he needed to play a team sport, and I didn't want to waste time tripping over the fact that Paul Thornley most definitely says "I don't know her" to the word "soccer" since this setting is not strictly either America or England. I know I described the car as having a blackish tinge to its purple, but this one can be a good starting point (by leaving it ambiguous we can say that he has a Mustang but a Firebird is really what I conceptualized it as). And so I, uh...I accidentally named Minoth after an ancient Greek torture device, didn't I? Wow...

As a parting note, I will leave you with this other concept that I've also become absolutely enamored with (though it's of my own design): a bird/bug-type collectible called the Addamant Origole (because AddaMinoth can only attempt to garner half the ring-to-it ease and capitalization transcendence of JinMalos). It's like the Addam's Tears collectibles in spirit (pun unintended), only...gosh, not nearly as heartwrendingly sad. Also, shhh, never mind the wife and kid's names...

And hey, just for kicks, if you want you can find me on Discord through the Xenoblade Reddit server (not really an avid user thereof, but maybe it'll turn out to be convenient for this, at least). Thanks ever so much for reading all the way to the end, and have a lovely day!