I Love The Characterization - Tumblr Posts

McCree x Waitress! Shy! Reader

For a second time, his cup was filled. Coffee poured down the glass pot, swirling and thick as ink, not the smallest drip of milk to lighten the bitterness.

Much like the drink– McCree wistfully contemplated, tapping his cigar on the ashtray– he was a bitter man, with no joys to sweeten his life.

An ex-criminal, former agent of a putrid organization– convulsing to rise from it’s own ashes.– and now bounty hunter, his life was not meant to be filled with the sweetness of a lover’s touch. Flings, there had been many, faces he had forgotten. Voices he could give no visage, only able to recall the delightful warmth of those meaningless bodies.

But what could they bring, beyond a time-worn memory?

Your soft hands came to his sight, setting a perfectly cut slice of apple pie by the fresh coffee. It was still steaming, as you playfully pointed out with a wink, a carefree gesture that brought a smile to his lips.

“Thanks, doll.” His voice was lowered to a delicious purr, accent thick in his voice as he watched you flush in place, sputtering a feeble answer, fleeting back behind the bar, eyes everywhere but on him.

Sweet little (Y/n) was the only one waiting for him after every adventure, with warm smiles and reassuring hands, ready to take on every command that fell down his lips.

How would you look by his side?, he wondered at times when the dinner became dull and empty.

To have you receive him after every mission, with warm words and a chest for him to lay his head on?

Jesse realized, after a while, that it was not sex what drove him to you, as a moth flutters helplessly around light, unable to look apart.

You were soft, kind, gracious. You never judged him, not even as he came stained in blood, nor did you ask questions, beyond warning him not to dirt the floor.

Not even once had you raised your voice at him, in five years of this strange relationship– he’d come, he’d go, often whistling a merry tune as he walked you back home, arm wrapped around your shoulders, or in sheer silence, but still refusing to walk away from you.

Too kind, too kind. Too good for a varlet like him.

But still. There was a yearning. A want. He was a man, after all.

The clock marked near midnight, the oddest of hours to enjoy black coffee and pie, but McCree knew he would not be sleeping tonight. Your shift would come to an end soon.

“Say, darlin’.” His voice ripped your gaze from the counter, as you gingerly made your way to the cowboy. Seeing as there were no other customers, you didn’t complain as his hand guided you to sit on his lap. “Mind if I walk you back home?”

Your sweet, sheepish smile almost made his heart burst.

“If…it’s not too much trouble” doubt laced your voice, and McCree silently prayed that you’d not be dissuaded. “I’d like that.”

As if you’d never deny.

Not even as his hands wrapped around you thighs, lips finding the sweet flesh of your throat, would you ever deny him.

Jesse would never need to break you

Not when he had you wrapped around his finger like this.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

…How did I do?

I hope you enjoyed this!,,,,

I’m sorry this is so late, but I couldn’t leave my boy!  Enjoy Stan, Ford, an eyepatch, and a very contrived reason for the boys to be pirates for Stanuary Week 3: Ocean!

The whole thing is below too if you’d rather read it that way ;)

“I think we’re catching up!” Ford shouted joyfully at Stan as they sped through the marina on their stolen motorboat.

“OK, I take it back!” Stan grinned at his brother. “Maybe your idea wasn’t half bad as I said it-” his sentence died at the same time as the motor. “Nope, I take that back,” he said, frantically trying the motor again and again. “The whole ‘let’s dress up in suits so we can go to a fancy restaurant and get our boat stolen by-”

“I didn’t know we were going to get our boat stolen!” Ford responded, maybe a little louder than was warranted.

“Well it was still a dumb idea!” Stan said, matching his brother’s volume. He then groaned as he caught sight of the fuel gauge. “And did you have to pick the one motorboat in the marina that was out of gas?”

Ford peered over his brother's shoulder and sighed. “Not like I did that on purpose,” he answered irritably.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan acknowledged grudgingly. He slumped in his seat in defeat and began untying his tie as he watched The Stan O’War II leave the marina. “You got any ideas how we can get back to the docks?”

“I suppose waiting for help is out of the question,” Ford said as he flopped into the other seat.

“Definitely- we don’t wanna get caught with a boat that ain’t ours.” Stan put a hand over his eyes and let it drop down his face. “Heh. Never been charged with piracy before, and I don’t wanna change that for a pathetic old motorboat.”

A movement caught his eye, and he looked up at something else coming out of the marina.

A grin grew on his face as an idea began to form. “’Course, for the right ship…” he muttered, and sat up straight. “Hey, Ford, d’ya think you can swim over to that?” He pointed to the large replica 16th century galleon lazily sailing out into open ocean- the same direction as the Stan O’War II.

Ford adjusted his glasses and squinted. “Judging by the trajectory, if we wait a few moments we’ll hardly have to swim at all- she should go right past us.” He looked over at his brother, who had taken off his suit jacket and was rolling up the long sleeves of his white shirt. “What are you doing?”

“C’mon, roll your sleeves up too!” Stan was hardly able to contain himself as more and more of a plan came to light. “Your tattoos will help!”

“Help what?” Ford asked as he watched Stan stuff his pant legs into his boots. “Why are you still wearing boots?”

“What, you aren’t?” Stan asked in a huff. Stan stood back, giving Ford a critical look, then nodded as an idea came to him. “OK, you’re gonna have to chop up your pants- make ‘em like long shorts,” he pulled out a folded knife and tossed it to Ford. “Make ‘em as raggedy as you can.”

“Stanley…” Ford said excitedly, as a light began to dawn on his face. “Is this going where I think this is going?”

Stan met his brother’s gaze with a wicked grin. “You bet your bones it is.” He fished around in his pocket and pulled out an eyepatch, putting it on with a practiced motion.

“Where did you get that thing?” Ford asked, halfway through cutting up his pant legs.

“Heh, I always carry around an eyepatch; you never know when you’re gonna need one,” Stan said. “An’ it’s never let me down before.” He looked over at the galleon, eying its progress. “Alright Sixer, we’ll have to swim for it any second now. You ready?”

“This is a ridiculous plan,” Ford said, tying Stan’s discarded tie to his own to form a makeshift sash to put across his chest. “And absolutely brilliant.” he stated with an excited smile of his own.

“Knew I could count on you,” Stan clapped him on the back. “OK, your call for when we make a break for it.”

Ford once more squinted, then gave a nod. “Three… two… now!” and they jumped off of the motorboat into the cold water.

Within a few strokes they were holding on to one of the ropes trailing the galleon, and taking a deep breath, started to climb up the side of the ship.

The first opening they saw was a gunport, wide enough for them to push the cannon back with their legs and shimmy through the square opening. They rolled in, landing on the floor flat on their backs as they tried to regain their breath.

“I… remember rope climbing…” Stan stopped and gulped for air, “Being a whole lot easier… in high school,”

“That was… forty… forty years ago,” Ford answered, as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Ha!” Stan let out as much of a guffaw as he could. “Good point there…,” he coughed then groaned as he sat up, holding out a hand to his brother and helping him up. “OK, you take the helm, I’ll take care of the rest of the-” he stopped as the door creaked open to reveal two children who couldn’t have been more than ten years old, eyes wide at the two pirates in front of them. Stan gave them a grin and lifted up his eyepatch to wink, putting a finger to his lips to signal silence. The kids smiled in return and crept back, closing the door. Stan turned around to catch Ford wearing a small grin. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Ford answered, unable to stop his proud smile.

“Sure,” Stan answered, but was clearly pleased. He looked around to see they were in some sort of exhibit in the ship- ships logs, swords, guns, hats… “Oh yeah,” he growled, and took a blue sea coat and hat off of a mannequin. He checked his reflection in one of the display cases, frowned, then unbuttoned a couple more buttons on his shirt. “That’s better,” he muttered, ignoring a snort from Ford. “All right.” He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s capture a ship.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The tour guide smiled widely, “…using only the same type of hand tools that- who the devil are you?”

Stan took the microphone from her unresisting hand, his other hand steadily pointing a sword at her. “The new command of this ship!” he said into the microphone, and motioned for the girl to move so he could face the tourists on the ship. “I’m Pineson the Blackhearted, and over there,” he nodded his head towards the helm, where Ford was standing with his sword pointed at the helmsman, “is my associate, Captain Poindexter!”

“Really?” Ford called in a dry voice.

“But you probably know him better as Ford the Feared!” Stan continued smoothly.

“Better,” Ford nodded, then moved his gaze to the helmsman. “I’ll take over now, if you please,” he said, copying his brother’s ‘trust me’ smile. The man looked at him with wide eyes, and backed away.

“Now folks, everyone remain calm,” Stan said in his showman voice. “Me and Captain Feared here are gonna take care of these two, then you get to join us on an epic pirate quest! What say ye, me hearties?”

There was a cheer from the crowd, and Stan knew he had them.

“Um, what are you doing?” the tour guide asked, and Stan shut the microphone off, shoving it in his pocket.

“My job,” Stan answered. “This is the pirate tour right? We're scheduled for today,”

“I didn’t see anything on the calendar,” she started.

“You were probably lookin’ at the old one,” Stan shrugged, unconcerned.

“Let me double check…” she reached for her walkie talkie, only to find Stan had already lifted it.

“We’re working for authenticity here,” he said, and couldn’t help his wicked grin as he dangled it in front of her. “Look, kid, whether or not we got mixed up, we’re already here and got the crowd goin’- you wouldn’t wanna disappoint them and have ‘em leave bad reviews, wouldja?”

The tour guide’s eyes widened. “No.” she said resolutely.

“Alright, just follow me, we’ll get you and the helmsman all taken care of, and be off!” he turned to the crowd and switched the microphone back on. “Ladies and gents, the ship is ours!” he said, and the crowd applauded and cheered as he gently steered the guide towards the helm, where Ford was waiting with an excited helmsman.

“We’ll keep you in the captain’s cabin and come getcha back when we’re done, sound good?”

“Aye Aye!” the helmsman answered enthusiastically. “This is the best first day ever!” He happily went into the cabin, and the tour guide skeptically followed.

“Glad to hear it, kid!” Stan boomed and slammed the door behind them. He then glanced out to the water, still being able to see the Stan O’War II in the distance. “You can drive this thing, right Sixer?”

“Probably an inappropriate time to ask, but yes. I definitely can.” Ford answered with a grin. He pulled a lever that jolted the whole ship as the engines kicked in. “Go do your stuff, Pineson the Blackhearted.”

Stan’s eyes gleamed as he went to address the crowd. “All right, crew, what’s say we get this started?”

Stan happily started spouting off all of the pirate stories he had amassed from his childhood as he moved through the crowd, effortlessly falling into his tour guide patterns and reveling in the attention. He taught some kids sword fighting techniques he made up on the spot, sent the hecklers to swab the deck, and charmed the tourists with cheesy jokes.

The best part, of course, was when he caught Ford chuckling along.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Stanl- Blackheart!” Ford suddenly shouted after who knows how much time had passed. “We’ve caught up to our quarry!”

Stan had to shake himself out of a long story about Calico Jack and take a moment before he remembered what exactly they were doing there. “Uh, right!” he looked and saw their boat- their home- a little way off from the galleon. They could very easily swim up to it and take the thieves by surprise. But it was now or never.

He turned back to the smiling tourists. “You’ve been a great crew, but it’s only a matter of time before the Royal Navy catches up to us!” He began to back up to the helm to join Ford. “Ready?” he muttered.

“After you,” Ford grinned.

They jumped up on the side of the ship and grabbed a rope, taking the moment to pose as the crowd cheered. “Rubes,” Stan said fondly so only Ford could hear him. “They fell for it hook, line, and sinker. An’ they also gave me a chance to brush up on pickpocketing,”

Ford chuckled. “What?”

Stan took off the sea coat, hat, and sword and let them fall to the deck. “Meh, I only got like $50, no one carries cash anymore,” He straightened up and once more addressed the crowd. “Don’t forget to let out your tour guide!” he shouted, and with a final salute, jumped into the water, Ford close behind.

Stan couldn’t help his grin as he and his brother made their way to take their boat back. Yeah, they could be in for the fight of their lives in the next few moments… but they also just got the chance to be pirates.

I love your memes so much (I think my favorites so far are the socially acceptable behavior and the death jokes)! With the Scourge finally meeting Super post, it’s almost like you read my mind because I was going to ask what you thought their first meeting would be like lol. If you’re willing to take a request, do you think you could write about Scourge trying to teach Super about pop media or something while Sonic walks in like “wtf is going on here.” Have a great day!

Thank you! I'm glad you like my memes! Ngl the death jokes one is one of my favourites haha. Man I need to talk more about Scourge and Super honestly fhssfhsfh I didn't plan that post about their meeting I just thought "who's the prep" and next thing I knew I was halfway through typing. Many ideas are ones that come to me in the middle of the night that I post before I think about them too much lol

I went with a movie marathon bc I figured trying to kill Sonic's friends, destroy the world, and then having amnesia and trying to not become evil again didn't give Super much time to think about watching movies and also bc I don't know anything about pop culture bc I live under a rock lol. Hope you have a great day too!

~~~

"So," Scourge said, flicking off the movie and returning to the home screen, "I guess horror isn't your thing, either?"

Super smiled weakly at him, cushion still clutched close to his chest. "Sorry. Just... bad memories."

"Yeah, yeah," Scourge said, waving away the words, determined to not think about them too hard.

He'd been kicked out of the house for the day because Sonic apparently had some important shit to do that he absolutely could not risk Scourge messing up. What, exactly, that important shit was, Scourge had no idea. Sonic always had important shit going on, and it could range from a new mission to preparing a surprise (or prank) for one of his friends. It was rarely something Scourge needed to be kicked out for, though, so when Sonic shooed him out of the house a few hours ago, Scourge had listened with only minimal bitching. He'd probably find out what Sonic was doing later, anyway.

He would have spent his time bothering one of the Freedom Fighters, or some of his friends outside the Freedom Fighters (and wasn't that a novel concept, Scourge actually had friends now) but most of them were busy and the rest lived out of the way. Scourge had been in the middle of debating if the trip to the Floating Island was worth bothering Knuckles and Porker when he'd gotten a text from Ebony asking if he would mind keeping Super company for the day. Apparently she and Pyjamas also had some shit to do, and for some reason Super couldn't come, but he hated being alone and thus required a babysitter. Not that Ebony had phrased it like that, but that was the way Scourge saw it.

Honestly, he'd been tempted to say no. He wasn't friends with Super, and bothering Knuckles sounded way more entertaining. But Ebony had promised to pay him (further solidifying Scourge's opinion that this was a babysitting job) and who was he to turn down cash?

Thus, movie marathon with Super in the back room of the Groovy Train, because apparently he lived under a rock and didn't know anything about movies. Poor fucker.

He'd tried a mystery first, but he'd quickly gotten bored, and Super had only been mildly more invested in it than him, so he hadn't felt guilty about turning it off. Western was next, but Super had been into that even less, so Scourge had taken the opportunity to try his personal favourite genre: horror.

It was an enormous flop. Psychological stuff freaked Super out, and not the way it was supposed to, and the second they'd switched to a movie with gore, he'd gone almost as green as Scourge at the first sight of blood.

It was pathetic, really. Hard to believe this was the same guy who'd constantly only lost to Sonic by the skin of his teeth and nearly committed murder multiple times.

Really, this wasn't on the list of things Scourge wanted to do with his time. He didn't have anywhere near the kind of issues with Super as Sonic did. He mainly just found him annoying. Terrified of his own power, pretty non-confrontational, quiet and polite and nice. A pacifist through and through. Potentially-universe-destroying powers aside, the most entertaining thing about Super was how riled up Sonic got about him. All in all, not someone Scourge would have ever imagined willingly spending time with.

Prime Sonic would probably like him.

Maybe that's why he grated on Scourge's nerves sometimes.

"Thriller, then," Scourge said, shifting away from the horror genre and flicking through the collection of thrillers. "Thrillers are okay if you pick the right ones. You ever seen a thriller?"

Super squirmed a little. The green tint to his face was finally fading. "Sort of. I know I... I mean, I know Sonic likes thrillers, so I have some memories, I guess. So thrillers might work."

Despite his words, Super didn't look enthusiastic at all, frowning down at the carpet with a frustrated pinch to his brows.

Ah. Scourge bit back a curse. And there was the reason Super didn't irritate him as much as he should have. Why he spent more time feeling sorry for him than he spent annoyed at him.

Desperately trying to be your own person, away from Sonic, was so, so fucking difficult when part of your identity would always be permanently tied to the bastard. Like a weight dragging you down, the way it tied you to a set role and refused to let you grow beyond that role, the name branded on the back of your head no matter how much you tried to get rid of it, a voice whispering in your ear that you're still Sonic, will always be Sonic, and you can change your name and your fur color and your actions but that won't change the fact the multiverse has labelled you as yet another Sonic, and all the speed in the world won't let you escape from it completely...

Hard to be constantly mad at someone who understood just how stifling the Sonic name could be, even if they'd gone in completely opposite directions when dealing with it.

"I didn't ask if Sonic had seen one," Scourge said, nudging Super with his arm. "I asked if you've seen one."

Super blinked at him, finally lifting his head from the cushion. Scourge did his best to keep his face and eyes blank; no need to turn this into a big deal.

Sonic - his Sonic, the one from this dimension - had done more for Scourge than he'd ever know by refusing to see him as just another Sonic. A lookalike, yes, but never another Sonic. He wouldn't have accepted that even if Scourge wanted to be a Sonic. The title was already taken, no possibility of sharing. One Sonic the Hedgehog, one Hero of Mobius, and only one. Scourge had no choice but to be someone else if he wanted to stay in this dimension, because Sonic sure as hell wasn't making room for one more.

It was ridiculously fucking refreshing, to have someone unknowingly reject his relation to the Sonic name just as viciously as he'd rejected it in the first place.

Scourge wasn't one for passing on good karma or some stupid shit like that. Being nice to random strangers just because someone else was nice to him didn't come naturally to him. Returning a favor to someone who'd extended one in the first place, sure, that made sense. A debt repaid. Easy to understand. But passing it on to someone else? Scourge still couldn't wrap his head around it, despite the Freedom Fighters best efforts to change that. Maybe that would change in time, or maybe Scourge was stuck like this, selfishness ingrained into his very nature, his home dimension latching onto his core and leaving him destined to be an asshole for the rest of his life, only giving him room to become slightly less of an asshole like he'd managed so far.

But.

But not even he could deny Super a hand extended in understanding. The offer of I see you, not Sonic, I see your rejection and I reject it with you.

How could he, when he himself had spent so long denying how desperately he needed it?

It wasn't a favor for a favor, or a debt repaid. But it was a mutual understanding that was almost impossible to find with anyone else. Which was apparently enough for Scourge to... not like him, but tolerate him, if nothing else.

Which was a huge fucking compliment back in his dimension, so anyone who said he was being unfair could shut the fuck up.

"No," Super said at last. He smiled at Scourge again, and this one was a little stronger. "No, I don't think I have."

"Cool." Scourge considered the screen, then flicked away from the thriller genre. Carefully avoided Super's eyes so he wouldn't have to see any... ugh, gratitude. "And you can start later. I watched a thriller last night, I'm not in the mood for one right now. Pick something else. Anything else." He reconsidered. "Actually, anything except a romcom. I'm not watching a shitty romcom with you."

(And thank fuck Super wasn't close to him or any of his friends, because if he was he could've pointed out that Scourge watched romcoms with Sonic, and completely ignore him when he said that was only because they enjoyed shitting on them together.)

Super examined the menu with a thoughtful look on his face. After a few seconds, he perked up.

"What about action?"

Action. He could do that.

Scourge obediently started to flick through the selection of action movies, eyes darting between the descriptions and Super's face in his search for something they might both enjoy. Eventually, he picked one at random and settled down, arm curled around a bowl of popcorn.

His phone buzzed just as the movie was starting, and with a weary sigh he pulled it out of his jacket, angling the screen away from Super when he saw it was Sonic texting him.

Sonic: Where are you btw

Scourge: groovy train

Scourge: stop pullin that face im getting paid for this

Sonic: I'm not pulling a face

Scourge: ye u are i kno u

"Thank you, by the way."

Scourge lifted his eyes from his phone. Super wasn't looking at him, eyes glued to the screen; apparently he was just as shit with eye contact when dealing with emotions as the rest of them.

"For what?"

"For giving up your time to stay with me for the day. I know I'm... not the Sonic you'd rather spend time with."

Scourge should probably say something comforting in response to that, shouldn't he? But, well. He wasn't wrong.

"'S whatever," Scourge said, leaning back against the couch. "I've been kicked out of the house for the day anyway. Might as well earn some cash while I'm at it."

Super nodded, still refusing to look at Scourge as he lifted a handful of popcorn to his mouth.

"Say," Scourge started, eyes only half focused on the movie. The subtitles were on, so he didn't need to fully pay attention anyway. "Why didn't your moms bring you with them, anyway? Since you hate being alone so much."

"They're not my mums!" Super protested, face flushing a deep red.

"Yeah they are. The only thing stopping them filling out adoption papers is the fact you're legally still a wanted criminal." He nudged Super with his foot. "C'mon, don't dodge the question. I know you'd rather be with them than with me."

Super sighed, eyes drifting away from the movie for a brief moment. "They're... going somewhere with a lot of chaos energy. For Pyjamas. So I can't go. Ebony offered to stay behind with me, but she already does so much for me, I didn't want to make her miss out. I said I'd be fine on my own, but..."

But Super has anxiety, Ebony's text that morning had read, and I'd feel better if there was someone there to keep him company, just in case he has a flashback or panic attack.

Damn. Imagine having parents that cared about that kind of shit. Lucky bastard.

"Lucky you got me, then," Scourge said. "All the other Freedom Fighters are boring as shit. And have shit taste in movies. If we're going to catch you up movies, you can't be exposed to shit ones, or you'll end up with shit taste-"

"Then you should've been the last person called," a dry, snarky voice interrupted.

Scourge whirled around to find Sonic leaning against the doorway, arms folded, signature smirk in place. His eyes were firmly fixed on Scourge, but anyone who knew him could see the tension in his arms and shoulders.

Beside him, Super had gone very, very still.

Sonic and Super kept... a respectful distance from one another. Very respectful, and very, very far away. Sonic wasn't at Super's throat anymore, nor was he planning to drag him by the ear and throw him into a jail cell, and Super didn't have a problem with Sonic when he wasn't hopped up on chaos energy, but the friction between them never really went away. They weren't banned from seeing one another, but not doing so was usually a deliberate choice on both of their parts.

Scourge was going to choose to interpret this as Sonic missing him so much he was willing to exist in Super's presence, mainly because he could not be bothered to try and figure out the actual reason he was here. Sonic would tell him later if it was important.

"Oh, like your taste is any better?" Scourge said, puffing up his chest in faux indignation. He was not going to let any potential awkwardness ruin this for him. He wasn't getting paid enough to deal with that.

"Better than yours," Sonic shot back instantly. He looked like he wanted to approach, but he didn't actually budge from the doorway. "You know, when I told you to find something to do to keep you out of the house, I didn't mean corrupt Super with your shit taste in films. The fuck are you even watching? Some shitty action film put together with cardboard and a piece of string?"

"Excuse you, this is high quality cinema," Scourge gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in offense. "I wouldn't force Super to watch garbage, how dare you, just because we're not watching one of your shitty thrillers-"

Sonic darted over in an instant, snatching the bowl of popcorn and tipping it up on Scourge's head. Apparently being in close proximity to the guy who tried to murder his friends was a price Sonic was willing to pay if it meant he got to bully Scourge.

"We're breaking up," Scourge announced, flicking some popcorn at Sonic in retaliation. "You don't love me and you're only here for my leather jacket."

"Pretty much," Sonic agreed, flicking the popcorn back at him. Scourge caught it in his mouth.

Beside him, Super was chuckling quietly, nervously, like he was afraid of being heard but too amused at their bickering to hold it in. He kept his own bowl, previously balanced on the arm of the couch, clutched close to his chest like he'd done with the cushion earlier, but he wasn't eyeing Sonic warily, nor did he look like he was about to bolt. Scourge pointedly didn't draw attention to it.

"You owe me more popcorn," Scourge said, digging around the couch for stray pieces of popcorn to eat. No way was he wasting perfectly good popcorn. "And we're watching a horror movie next week."

"We were already going to watch a horror movie next week. It's your turn to pick, and you always pick a horror movie."

"Oh, like you don't always pick thrillers?"

"Shut the fuck up. Where's the popcorn?"

"Left the bag on the counter in the kitchen," Scourge said, grinning. He waved Sonic away. "Come on, waiter, I'll give you a popcorn tip if you're fast."

Sonic stuck two fingers up at him as he headed for the kitchen, popcorn bowl in tow. He playfully gave Scourge's ear a little pull as he passed, but was careful to make sure it didn't hurt. He didn't look at Super. Huge upgrade from when this started, when he couldn't go two seconds without glaring at the guy.

Scourge settled back down on the couch as he listened to Sonic swear and struggle to work the microwave, a cry of "Then why the fuck is there a popcorn setting?" ringing through the open door as he read the instructions on the bag. Super was more relaxed than he had been when Sonic first walked in, and there was a faint smile tugging at his mouth.

Playing babysitter and having a movie marathon with Super might not be so bad if Sonic was there.

... Providing Super didn't mind their habit of talking during movies, of course.