So Sweet, And Such A Beautiful Story :))

so sweet, and such a beautiful story :))

Closing Time

This piece began first as a private daydream, Later, it grew into a daydream shared with a newfound friend (@imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese). With that came a wash of creativity over me that I decided, for once, to fully submerge myself in. The song that I imagine Drifter singing in this piece is titled “Martha”, and is sung by Tom Waits. You may listen to it here: https://open.spotify.com/track/75QoXqTlvBwuITzow9egCB?si=faa697d56fa84e32. The song that Eris imagines at the end — the trumpet and piano duet — is titled “Closing Time”, and is also by Tom Waits. You may find it here: https://open.spotify.com/track/7vYZWL2XhKratVh27IdgK7?si=ce1af40fab964e08 There is nothing violent here — only tenderness and kindness founded upon a moment of healing. I am not expert in handling tender moments between individuals, and sometimes struggle to describe them. I make up for it, perhaps, in metaphor. I’m always inspired by music, and I guess that’s where the daydream emerged from in the first place. I also cooked this up in a day which is absolutely hilarious (neurospicy brain things) Please enjoy. Comments are appreciated! *Note: I also don't have an Ao3 account (I'm in the long queue) so I'm just going to leave this parked here for now.

The door opened slowly with a gentle push, creaking loudly in response to decades of wear and neglect as it swung open and away from the Drifter. For a place that had been left largely forgotten and untouched, likely intentionally by its owner, any sort of movement and sound felt sacrilegious, like intruding upon a sacred space that should have, perhaps, been left alone.

Drifter breathed a heavy sigh as he hesitated to take a step into his old bar. It should feel like a place he owns, one that he feels welcome in, he tells himself. But the air responds otherwise — it is thick, musty, and overbearing, weighed down heavily by memories of his past, of old selves torn away and discarded, of ghosts rather forgotten, and of a time that no longer seemed accessible. It had been weighed down by the burden of change.

Why had he come here? A rhetorical question to himself, but one that occupied his mind nonetheless.

He had lingered outside enough. “Eh, gotta go in at some point, I guess,” he muttered to himself as he erected a wall of indifference once more. With soft and quiet steps, the Drifter finally stepped into the bar with a sense of trepidation that he wished he didn’t have to feel, especially for a place he once had some attachment to. Though he’d expected things to look different, he had to admit that the space of his bar — though theoretically the same as how he’d left it last — felt different. His heart skipped a beat as his senses became attuned to the apparent dissonance in the once lively (though chaotic) space he owned. After all, the mind can only prepare one so far — the heart, however, will always be tugged along, albeit unwillingly, in directions unwanted. For someone who had survived so much, who thrived on instability and change as a means of putting up walls and abandoning the past, it would seem that for a rare moment, the Drifter would finally admit to himself that he’d been subconsciously wishing for something in his life to, at least, remain the same.

The silence was piercing — ringing even. It was in stark contrast to a memory of a boisterous time once filled with excitement and activity. He could almost imagine it, but as he called forth that memory in his mind, the dissonance grew louder, more discordant. He found himself stemming the discomfort by fixating on the sound of his footfalls as it punctuated the silence. Grounding, as Eris had once taught him. Where these footfalls had once been crisp and confident, heard in tandem with the voices of comrades and enemies both lost in time, they were instead now faint and muted no thanks to the thick layer of dust that blanketed what used to be dry and clean wooden floorboards. As each step unsettled the caked-on dust on the floor, leaving imprints of his boots, the Drifter directed his attention to his footfalls and simply looked. Dust was gently being dislodged, then lifted, and finally fell off the tips and soles of his boots. He could feel it — that each step carried with it the burden of time laid bare for him to witness. Breathing in deeply, Drifter felt the discomfort ease ever so slightly, as he was finally reminded of why he’d come back to the bar in the first place.

To learn to embrace change while not abandoning the past. It was an answer to his question from before, but one that he knew, acutely, that its execution would not come as easily as hoped. Ideally, he would think the process into existence.

Before his mind could stray any further, he felt a buzz from the datapad tucked neatly beneath his robes. Drifter retrieved it, and smiled softly when he saw who the message was from.

EM: Germaine. You are not on the Derelict. D: Aw Moondust! Missing me already? You should just say so! EM: Answer the question, Rat. Where are you? D: I’m at the old bar. The one I used to own? From waaaaaaaaaay before? EM: It’s three in the morning, Germaine. What are you doing there? Are you alright? D: Catching up on old times, I guess. EM: I see. Would you like company? D: Yeah. Thanks, Moondust. See ya in a bit.

The gentle smile didn’t leave Drifter’s face even as he tucked the datapad back in its place. For him, Eris’s company was always welcome. But this was even more so true for today — with the weight of the past and of this space still holding him down like a Sisyphean boulder on his shoulders. Though he wasn’t expecting her to know more about it, or to help him lift it, he imagined that it would be nice to have her company while he worked through and unfolded the attachment to this place that he had long since buried. There was, after all, comfort to be found in the gentle intimacy of vulnerability they had since learned to share in time.

Just as he’d finished pondering, Drifter felt his arm brush against yet another thick layer of dust as he walked past a large, boxy object. He turned, and let out a tiny, silent gasp of awe as he came to realise what we in front of him — it was a piano. It had been such a long time since he’d played one, not to mention seen one in the first place. The piano was no Steinway, of course. Just an upright Baldwin that had been salvaged from way before. Drifter chuckled as he recalled just how out of tune it was when he had salvaged it, and how he’d managed to tinker with the piano enough that it at least sounded mostly reasonable. For a moment, he wondered if his work had stood the test of time.

There was a quietude that ached in the space around him, as Drifter took the time to take in the scene in front of him. Slowly, he took a few steps back, and gazed softly at the piano. The sight was, frankly, captivating. Moonlight streamed in from the holes in the roof that had since come to plague the bar, touching the piano ever so lightly. In these beams of moonlight, particles of dust travelling in the air were illuminated. For a space where its stillness initially bordered on suffocation, Drifter finally felt himself attuned to the sensation of the most minute movements. The way the breeze drifted in inconsistently, cold to the touch. The way his breathing shifted the dust travelling around him, visible through the rays of moonlight. The way the clouds cast shadows on the ground as they momentarily blocked the moonlight. He felt just a little better about being here.

Inspired, he pulled out the piano bench and sat on it. No one would have issues with someone playing a piano at the base of Felwinter Peak at three in the morning, of course. Drifter pulled his gloves off, placing them neatly on the top of the piano. He had done so instinctively, as if wanting to truly feel and reminisce the texture of the keys with his own fingers. As he swiped one finger gently across the surface of the piano’s unopened cover, he was reminded once again of change — of time and age. Parts of the dislodged dust now hung on the tip of his finger. The truth is, he didn’t have to do that. He could’ve simply opened the piano cover. Yet, for the Drifter acknowledging that presence of dust, feeling it, and shifting it away, felt like an active recognition and acceptance of a time long gone. Of change.

Drifter proceeded to lift the cover of the piano, which took a little bit more than a gentle struggle simply because of how long it had been left unopened. It inspired a simple metaphor in his mind — he thought of how the dust, when left undealt with, would work itself into the seams of the piano like a glue that seals all things shut, making it even harder to pry open. He visualized that momentarily in himself, with the dust that had settled into the seams of his own box that contained his past. It was, indeed, one that he was also struggling a little to open. He would try today, perhaps.

Beneath the cover lay the piano keys. Some were chipped, and some were stuck in a half-pressed position no thanks to the lack of maintenance. But for Drifter, it was, in fact, the same as he had left it — it had been untouched for decades, chips consistent with his memory, and the sticky keys were still, well, sticky. There was no fixing those, he remembered, chuckling to himself.

It would become clear eventually that for the Drifter, memory is a muscle, and muscle memory never fails. His hands naturally fell into position, and for some strange reason, prepared themselves in the key of D#. He pressed down on the keys ever so delicately — perhaps to him, they seemed so fragile that they might break under the weight of his burdens. But they didn’t.

He produced a chord in D#. It was, to him, extremely familiar. Let memory lead, let memory take charge, he told himself. The heart knows what it needs. And from there, he began to play a tune. He knew not what it was titled, or who had sung it originally, but he only remembered hearing it being played once by a visitor to the bar who had kindly asked for permission to play the piano. All he knew was that it was a golden age tune — a song from a time now long gone.

As he progressed through the instrumental introduction to the song, Eris stepped quietly into the bar, undetected. The Drifter was too immersed in the moment that Eris refused to even think of interrupting it. Gently and silently, she perched herself on a bar stool that was still intact, knees crossed, listening to his performance intently.

And so, he began:

“Operator, number please It's been so many years Will she remember my old voice While I fight the tears?

Hello, hello there, is this Martha? This is old Tom Frost And I am calling long distance Don’t worry ‘bout the cost

Cause it’s been 40 years or more Now, Martha, please recall Meet me out for coffee Where we’ll talk about it all”

The words fell out of his mouth so naturally like a confession sung aloud to himself. There was a genuine tenderness to his singing voice, a huge shift from his usually crass and rather loud expression, Eris thought. It felt like a warm embrace — not silky smooth, but with a little of a rough texture. Eris couldn’t help but recall the first time she ever placed her hand on his cheek, and how he leaned into her hand in return. That texture of his voice, for Eris, was reminiscent of the feeling she first felt when her hand brushed against his beard. It was comforting.

At the same time, Eris knew in this moment that her Rat was feeling more than just “old times” as he’d rather call it. If the lyrics weren’t enough proof of this, the melancholic instrumental lines that accompanied the song were. In this song was nostalgia tinged with grief — of love once found and later lost, of time spent searching to no avail. She took a look around the bar and was met with the same scene of moonlight the Drifter had seen earlier. If he feels it’s too much, he will know he’s at least surrounded by moonlight, she thinks to herself, reassuringly. He continues:

“And those were the days of roses, poetry and prose And, Martha, all I had was you, and all you had was me There was no tomorrows, we'd packed away our sorrows And we saved them for a rainy day

And I feel so much older now And you're much older too How's your husband and how's the kids? You know that I got married too?

Lucky that you found someone To make you feel secure Cause we were all so young and foolish Now we are mature”

As the chorus fully set in, it was evident by now that Martha, for the Drifter, was Orin. The mood in the air was suffused with a warm, gentle longing to revisit the past, to catch up with an old friend, an old lover. Perhaps it might’ve seemed that the Drifter was singing this to or for Orin, but Eris knew better than that. Despite the clear dedication to Martha drawn out by the lyrics, Eris had no doubt that her Rat was instead singing to his memory of Orin and his experiences with her. He was, in some way, acknowledging the reality of his past — one that he had, at many times, tried to shut away with bursts of denial. The intention here was indeed very different.

A second chorus, then:

“And I was always so impulsive I guess that I still am And all that really mattered then Was that I was a man

I guess that our being together Was never meant to be And Martha, Martha I love you, can't you see?”

Eris heard the Drifter stutter a little on the last line. And then he paused for a moment, hands frozen in time. Finally, in the drawn-out silence, he said to himself, quietly, “I loved you, Orin. This dude who wrote the lyric’s still hung up on Martha. But for me? I don’t love you. I loved you.” Eris held her breath and clutched her Ahamkara bone closer to her chest as she heard the Drifter draw out the end of the word ‘loved’, clearly juxtaposed against the original ‘love’. She let go of that breath, and smiled. It was not that she needed reassurance — that safety and security had long been found in the foundation of their friendship and relationship. Instead, she simply felt a sense of pride for her dear Rat, who had finally taken steps to work through the grief he was feeling from his time with Orin and beyond. It was no wonder that she had grown to love this man so very much.

Picking up his playing once more, the Drifter worked his way through the final chorus, before concluding with the words:

”And I remember quiet evenings Trembling close to you.”

And with that, silence. Drifter exhaled — it was a heavy one, but also seemed to bring him relief, as if he’d finally come to terms with what it meant to let go. He removed his hands from the keys, and proceeded to place them by his side as he pressed them softly into the bench. He gazed upwards, looking through one of the holes of the roof where the moonlight seemed to be pouring in from. It was a tiny whisper directed at the ray of moonlight, but one audible enough for Eris to hear from where she was seated.

“Thanks for keeping me company through it, random ray of moonlight.”

Eris stood from her bar stool, finally making her presence known. And though slightly startled, the Drifter wasn’t shocked enough to whip out Trust — he had been expecting her after all, though he had frankly no idea how long she’d been behind him all this while.

“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling, while walking towards him, still seated at the piano. In turn, he scooted over to the side as an invitation for her to sit beside him. She does.

There was a moment of gentle silence — the air was no longer as still as it once was, and it was quiet enough that they could hear each other breathe almost in unison. She placed her hand over his, and he turned his palm over to intertwine their fingers together.

“That was beautiful, Germaine. How do you feel?” Eris asked, in hushed tones.

For a man of many words, the Drifter struggled to gather any for a proper response. He simply sighed, and squeezed her hand. There was a warmth in his gesture, as if to say, I’m working through it still, thank you for being here. She squeezed his in return, gently soothing, take your time, I'm here. With yet another sigh, he leaned over, and positioned his head on her shoulder, snuggling softly into the precious space that he’d already claimed to be his, multiple times. She turned to kiss him on his forehead, before simply leaning her head on his.

It wasn’t clear if he had started to cry, or was simply taking in the moment. That was meant only for Eris’s eyes, and not more. But if Eris had to say something about it, she would’ve described the moment as one: filled with echoes sounded from a duet between a wistful trumpet and a plangent piano; lights turned off after a long day; doors creaking closed, and then locked, gently; it is time to return home.

Hehe so I was just in the mood to finish up this lil kissy story- cause, y'know, this world just needs more of ✨them✨ kissing :]

"I wish you would stop taking my stuff," Eris growled as she approached the Drifter, her keen gaze locked on his face.

  "I dunno what your talkin' about, Moondust." He replied, flicking his jade coin in the air with an innocent smile. "I didn't take nothin'."

  "Really?" She scowled. "Then how is it that before I had arrived my earpiece was where it always was, in my ear, and now it has disappeared without a trace?"

  "Maybe it fell out?" He suggested with a shrug.

  Eris took a deep breath to steady her annoyance. "I have had that earpiece for years, never once has it fallen out. You clearly took it."

  "Oh, yeah? Well if your so sure I've got it then why don't you check?"

  Eris was aware of his games. She knew he was playing with her, trying to trick her into coming close to him, to touch him, in order to search for her earpiece. That was surely why he took it in the first place, she suspected.

  "No." She replied curtly. "I see through your schemes."

  "What if I said it ain't a scheme? That I'm just tryna clear my name?"

  "I would not believe you."

  "Well, alright then." He said, leaning against the wall. "Have fun checkin' my whole ship for your little earpiece."

  "You have thus confirmed you have it." Eris stalked closer, sticking out her palm. "Give it to me. Now."   "Nah, nah," he smirked. "You'll have to find it yourself."

  Eris sighed in annoyance, walking up to him.

  He smiled broadly the entire time she ran her fingers along him, shivering as she brushed her hands down his chest and back, and grinning all the wider when she grabbed his hands to make sure he wasn't holding it.

  "This is ridiculous." She spat. "If you have it in your shoe..."

  "Don't worry, Moondust, it ain't in my shoe." He told her.

  "Well, then, where is it?" She demanded. "I gave you what you wanted, now give me what is mine."

  "And what exactly did I want?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

  "For me to touch you, I suppose."

  "And you want your earpiece in return?"

  "Yes, Rat, I do."

  He shot her a sly smile as he reached his hand into the space between his shoulder and his arm guard, pulling out the earpiece.

  Eris snatched it from him, making sure that it was really hers before putting it back into her ear.

  "You are a pain," She said as she grabbed the collar of his coat, pulling their faces unnecessarily close.

  He smiled slowly. "And that's why you love me, Moonlight. Don't bother denyin' it."

  In a mere moment, Eris's expression faded from annoyance to astonishment, her eyes falling from his teasing blue eyes, to his smiling lips.

  And a second later, she parted the gap between them, pulling him closer as their lips tangled together.

  She could feel him trying to ease her irritation with soft, sweet kisses, touching her gently, clinging to her lips with warm affection. And in return, she kissed him rough and hard, pulling him close, before jerking her face from his.

  "Do not take things that are mine again, do you hear me?" She ordered, their faces close, bodies touching.

  "Yes, ma'am," he breathed out with sunken eyelids, leaning back into her.

  Finally she let go of his coat and slipped her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, letting her lips soften and relax against his, begging him not to pull away. And neither of them did for the longest time. 

And bonus, have a lil sketchy:

I hope someone will enjoy this nearly ten minute waste of time 🙃

what can I say? I love these two silly blorbos :))

I can so see this happening, not kidding omg 🥺🙏💕

She is there, and she gives him a reason to keep fighting- a reason to hope. A reason to trust 🐍🌕

Story

Part 3

Eris and Drifter are raising Luna. Luna is being a naughty child and keeps playing in Eris' artifacts

Note: Luna is now 4 years old.

Thank you so much for the request, it was really fun to write hehe! I would also like to mention... I put the name of this story down as 'spaghettios', lol XD

"Luna!" The Drifter called as he walked down the hallway, peeking into each room as he passed by. "Luna! Ugh, how does she keep sneakin' away?" He grumbled as he glanced into another room.

  He had a sinking suspicion he knew where Luna had snuck off to as he approached the slighly open door which led to Eris's work room, the room they had included into the house when they built it so that Eris could do her work from home and watch their child on days when the Drifter had to run his Gambit at the Tower.

  "Hey, Eris?" The Drifter said, knocking two fingers against the wooden door. "You seen Luna?"

  He pushed the door open, and to his relief, there was little Luna. She was attempting to reach up on the desk for Eris's Ahamkara bone, but Eris pushed it further from her reach before she could grab it.

  "How is it that you continually lose her, Rat?" Eris asked teasingly. "You can not keep up with a small child?"

  "Heh," the Drifter chuckled as he entered the room. "It ain't my fault, she's just-"

  "Excuses, excuses." Eris interrupted with an amused smile. "Take her, she keeps trying to play in my artifacts. And don't lose her again."

  "I won't," he replied, taking Luna's little hand in his own. "C'mon, Luna, let's go eat lunch."

  "Lunch!" Luna agreed, no longer focusing on Eris's Ahamkara rock, she followed the Drifter out of the room and to the kitchen, sitting down at the kitchen table.

  "Alright Luna, Mac 'n cheese? Or spaghettios?" Asked the Drifter, putting both cans of food up to Luna and watching her as she looked back and forth between her options with a serious and contemplative expression.

  "Mac cheese," she replied in her high voice, leaning forward and putting her small hand on the can of Chef Boyardee Mac 'n cheese.

  "Alright, Mac 'n cheese it is." He said, grabbing a pot which hung on the wall and smoothly sliding it atop the stove. He then proceeded to open the can and empty the contents into the pot.

  "Alright, Luna, that'll take a minute to heat up. You want some juice?" He asked as he reached into the fridge, grabbing a box of apple juice. But when he turned to give it to Luna, she was gone. "Do what?" The Drifter stared, appalled, at the empty seat. He began to search under the table and chairs, calling Luna's name and wondering to himself how she managed to escape again.

  He cursed under his breath, getting to his feet and hurrying down the hall, hoping Luna wasn't already in Eris's work space.

  "Hey, Eris," he peeked in the room. "Luna ain't in here is-"

  "No, Luna, give that here," Eris spoke gently but firmly, kneeling on the floor with her hand outstretched.

  Luna was laughing and giggling, Eris's Ahamkara rock in her little arms.

  "I like big marble," she said, hugging it to herself. "Is mine."

  "Luna. Here."

  Luna turned to Eris, looking down at the rock then back up at her. After a moment she obediently dropped the rock into Eris's waiting hands.

  "Good girl, Luna, thank you." She said as she put it back on her desk. She looked over at the Drifter who was walking into the room. "You lost her again." She remarked simply.

  He sighed. "Yeah... didn't hear her leave or anything."

  "If you lose her again, Germaine, you will be eating nothing but spaghettios for the rest of your life."

  "I like spaghettios!" Luna interjected squeakily.

  "Eh, I'm with the kid, spaghettios ain't so bad, Moondust." He chuckled, taking Luna's hand and guiding her away. "Maybe I'll cook us all some for dinner tonight, huh? Wouldn't that be good, Luna?"

  "Germaine, wait," Eris called before he had made it out the door.

  "Aw, you miss me already, Moonlight?" He turned back to her, smiling broadly.

  "No, but look what our daughter has managed to get a hold of as we were speaking,"

  "Oh, Luna," Drifter groaned, looking down and seeing two cards from the Deck of Whispers in her little hands. "You can't have that, give it to your mama,"

  "Is mine," Luna said, frowning with confusion when Eris took them. "I like cards."

  "You got plenty of toys out here, Luna, c'mon." Drifter took her back to the kitchen, handing her a plush Hive worm half as big as her when she sat down. She happily hugged the worm and began playing with it while the Drifter went to check on her food.

  "Alright, kiddo, the noodles are hot so we're gonna have to let 'em cool down." He said as he set the pot on a hot plate atop the counter, stirring the steaming noodles with a wood spoon. "You excited for noodles, Luna?" He smiled back at her, thankful she was still in her chair.

  "Noodles! Noodles!" Luna replied in her high, happy voice, throwing her worm plush in the air and catching it.

  "Noodles, noodles, noodles," the Drifter countinued to chant, pulling out a plastic bowl and fork.

  He poured the noodles into the bowl, eating the remaining few that clung to the pot.

  "And here you are, kiddo," he slid the warm bowl of Mac 'n cheese in front of her, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on top of her head before turning back to the stove.

  He listened to the sounds of Luna happily humming as she ate her lunch while he opened a can of spaghettios, pouring the contents into the Mac 'n cheese pot and putting it back on the oven.

  Suddenly the Drifter's Ghost appeared, letting out a chirp as it zoomed over to Luna, catching her bowl of food just before it would have hit the floor.

  "Woah, that's a no no, Luna" the Drifter said as the Ghost slid the bowl back in front of her. "Thanks, Ghost. Good catch."

  Luna made a noise which sounded a lot like 'thanks, Ghost', as she countinued eating her cheesy noodles.

  The Ghost let out a happy beep, soaring over to the Drifter and brushing it's shell against his elbow before dissappearing in a shower of sparks just as Eris entered the kitchen. She gave the Drifter an odd look, approaching the table beside them and whatching him as he sat down and began eating the spaghettios.

  "What's with that look?" The Drifter asked through a mouthful of floppy circle noodles.

  "I should not be surprised, given your history of foods consumed, but regardless I did not expect to walk in on you eating spaghettios."

  "What's wrong with me eatin' spaghettios?" He asked, taking another bite as Luna said, "I like spaghettios."

  "It happens to be food for you daughter, not for you." She smiled teasingly down at him before looking over at Luna, who was happily enjoying her noodles.

  "I'll just buy more!" The Drifter replied, gobbling more of his food. "It's not my fault spaghettios are delicious."

  "Uh-huh."

  "Here, have a bite." He offered her his bowl of food, which she reluctantly took.

  "Hmm..." she ate a bite, then handed the bowl back to him.

  "Well?" He asked as he took another mouthful.

  "It is... okay." She replied. "Though I would prefer the meals that you cook far over a can of pre-made foods."

  "Alright, fair enough." He scraped up the last of the floppy noodles from his bowl, preparing to eat them until he saw that Luna was once again not in her chair. "Hey, where'd Luna go?" He asked, setting his bowl down.

  "What?" Eris looked over at Luna's empty chair. "How did we not see her leave?"

  "Exactly!" The Drifter stood. "She keeps dissappearin'!"

  "I suspect I may know where she went," Eris said, guiding them down the hall.

  When they entered Eris's study room, they, unsurprisingly, found Luna. She was sitting on the floor, happily playing with a Hive bone like it was a toy airplane.

  "I do not recall leaving that on the floor." Eris frowned, grabbing the bone from her daughter's hands while the Drifter bent to pick her up.

  "Luna, you sneaky girl," he said as he nuzzled his nose against her cheek, causing her to laugh.

  "I suppose she inherited that sneakiness from you, Germaine." Eris replied, standing beside him.

  "Nah, nah, I think she got it from you." He smirked.

  "I wanna play with the airplane," Luna added.

  Eris smiled. "I will have to be more careful about closing this door, so that she can not continue to play in my artifacts."

  "Heh, yeah... sneaky kid." The Drifter chuckled, hoisting Luna up onto his shoulders. "C'mon, let's go eat some spaghettios."

  Luna voiced her agreement with a wide smile. "Spaghettios!"