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This isn't an unusual occurrence for you, is it, Dave? You descend the stairs into your apartment and find your futon mattress on the floor, covered in all your bedding, and spilling over with all of your boyfriend's creepy host plushes for his little game. This would only seem peculiar to you if there were no trolls to be found sitting in this aggregate of soft and fluffy things.
Normally at this point, Tavros would briefly grace you with one of those shy smiles that you've only seen him give to you. He'd ignore you from that point on, going back to brushing Aradia's hair. She'd turn her lively eyes to your direction and give you a little giggle with a face flushing ruby. Like you had caught them in a moment. And really, you had.
You always try your best to keep your intrusion to a minimum.
As you drop down off the ladder, the usual scene plays out. You feel a familiar little flutter in your chest as you witness the joy on Tavros' face. And you're not even the one who caused it. You cup your hands in the kitchen sink and catch a few sips of the cold water before moving on.
Safe inside the bathroom, you can let your mind wander back to when you were stupid. Er. Stupider. Back when you really didn't get quadrants at all.
You had accepted Tavros and Aradia's relationship based solely on the fact that she was there first and you had to if you wanted him in your afterlife. And you really did want him.
You remember all your training sessions up on the roof where you weren't just running through forms, but also slaying invisible Green-Eyed Monsters. You gathered up all your XP and put your skill points into self-esteem along the way.
With enough time and level ups, you got over that jealousy by ascending to supportive human matesprit tier. You even decided to tell Tavros all about it.
The damned troll actually laughed in your face.
“But, Dave,” he had worried at you. “Haven't you ever had someone, who offered you advice on being better, or helped you feel less of, umm, a certain emotion which compromised your calmness? Who looked out for you, and worried, and had your back? But also kept you from doing really, stupid things? And maybe hugged or, uh, petted you, when you needed that, type of comfort? That you would feel you loved, even though you have expressed you feel your human love for me, as well?”
You laugh under the noise of the shower head as you remember how much you pretty much wanted to beat yourself up right then and there. How much you really didn't get about trolls even then. How much you appreciate all that your fairy deathmother does for your boyfriend. Matesprit. Whatever. You love him and that's all there really is to it.
You shampoo your hair, playing through a slideshow of the mental snapshots you've collected like you were the moirail tabloid paparazzi and hiding in the bushes like a creep who didn't want to give theirself away.
You've caught these little glimpses of the bits of affections between the two trolls piled up on the floor of his living room. Those moments when you stumble upon a beautiful view. When you turn away and respect their privacy. Something always stays with you, though, and you just can't leave it out of your thoughts.
They're stored in your head like photographs in your pictures folder of every type of happy Tavros can be, right there between the way he grins at you when he thinks you're not looking and the breathy smile left on his face after making love.
You barely register using the body wash as you lose yourself.
You feel like a disingenuous anthropologist as you play them through your head, curious but perverted beyond ethics. They threaten to stretch your face wide despite your best effort against it. You know these are intimate and special moments, but you just can't help but be drawn to them. To the fluttering in your stomach when you think about them together like that.
It's even worse when they've spent the most time with your pillows on top. Your Bro would be impressed with the perverse satisfaction you get from falling asleep with your face buried in their ambrosial mixed scent.
Finished up in the shower, you step out and grab for your towel. You slip your shades back on as soon as your face is dry. You wonder what it will be that you will find after you dry and dress.
The pair always take your post-training cleansing ritual as time to wrap things up and clean up your place. Sometimes Aradia would be gone, and sometimes she'd be fussing about making the three of you some food. As much time as she spends in your dream bubble, she does have others that does tend to after all.
What you see when you step out of the bathroom comes to a shock to you, however. Neither of the trolls have so much as moved from their place on your living room floor. You stand there for a moment staring, watching the blush rise up on Tavros cheeks as you witness Aradia stroking his hand and whispering in his ear.
You feel a similar blush warming up your own face while standing in front of this intimate moment. Voyeur, you scream at yourself and demand that you turn away. You disobey direct orders from your internal Drill Sergeant, standing still even as you will your legs to move and your eyes to unglue themselves.
Things are out of control on your end, but you manage to spin on your heels. You have every intention of absconding to your bedroom to work on some new beats and trying to get the sight out of your head.
Things don't go according to your plan.
You're stopped by the sound of Tavros calling out your name with the resonance of a desperate sort of confidence.
Turning back to them, you raise an eyebrow.
“You're welcome to join us,” Aradia tells you.
Your other eyebrow joins the first and you can't will them down for the life of you. You wordlessly question this, glancing between the other Hero of Time and your boyfriend for reassurance. Confirmation that you've heard this correctly. You're curious, but also rather nervous. And you're not really sure why.
Tavros pats the spot in front of his lap, a host plush in particular, and smiles up at you.
You close the distance quickly, before you lose your nerve. And why is there a nerve for you to lose in the first place? This shouldn't be something so difficult, it's just sitting with your boyfriend and his moirail after all.
The process of settling in to the pile is much like nesting to you. You shift pillows and plushes and adjust your position more than once before you're finally comfortable. Your head rests on Tavros' lap and one of your legs is now crossed with Aradia's but the three of you are fit snugly in the pile.
“Would either of you care to explain to the culturally retarded human what it is exactly that I'm intruding upon right now with this?”
Both trolls grin down at you, Aradia with a little shoosh escaping from between her upturned lips. Tavros' hand is upside down on your cheek, thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth. And suddenly you really just don't care.
“Oh, okay,” you mutter, with calm confusion.
But everything really is perfectly okay as long as Tavros keeps stroking your cheek. You let your eyes fall closed and just relax.
“How was, your fighting education, that you teach yourself, today?”
As a small hand folds into your own, Tavros' breath hitches and breaks up his words more than usual.
You lethargically describe what you did today, each set of exercises and practice swings. You admit that they were mostly made up. You have no idea if you're even doing anything more than swinging a sword around like a madman on the roof of what's left of your apartment building in dream bubble. In your non-alpha afterlife that you'll never even need these skills in anymore.
The soft hand in yours squeezes tighter and a lilting voice offers some words of advice. Some questions. A light titter of high laughter mixed with a deeper hesitant chuckle.
With a little more talking, you find yourself admitting that you have only continued your sword practice out of memory of your Bro. And you just miss him, a little. Okay, a lot. And what the hell, you demand, how are they getting these things out of you.
Tavros bends forward and places a soft kiss to your forehead. You reach your free hand up to stroke through his hair, falling limply to his neck as he sits back up. Aradia squeezes your hand tighter.
She leaves you with the hope that you might one day cross dream bubbles with Bro. You take a long, deep breath. That would be pretty nice, wouldn't it, Dave?
You still haven't opened your eyes back up. Something tells you that you'd be shocked at how serene your face would look at this moment. You can't remember ever feeling something like this just from laying in an heap of bedding and fluffy toys.
A clawed hand lifts your sunglasses away, you hear them set on the coffee table. When the hand returns to stroke your hair, Tavros gasps again.
Something clicks, and you snap your eyes open. Aradia's hand half blocks your vision, but you stare directly up into Tavros' opaque eyes. He has the hand not on your cheek playing with the end curl's of his moirail's hair. As she holds your hand and rakes through your own hair.
You open your mouth to question Tavros, but he quickly silences you with a finger over your lips. You raise an eyebrow when he shooshes you.
Your thoughts flood with questions about if he's pitying you differently now, if he wants to end his flushed relationship with you and feels pale for you instead. These worries race and you can't stop playing through recent events to find what you might have done wrong for him to change his quadrants feelings about you.
You feel like you're drowning. You can't breathe.
He probably senses this panic in you, because he bends over again and presses against your lips. The kiss is slow and deep but demanding. His tongue parts your lips. Tavros gets his message across to you and knows it when you pull yourself closer to him by pulling on one of his horns. Your chest relaxes as the Hero of Breath resuscitates you with his kiss.
Aradia still feathers through your hair, but when you finally pull away from Tavros, her face is turned away and blushing. Her wings shudder lightly. She paps your head a few times when she notices you smirking at her. You grip her hand tighter.
The atmosphere is hazy, your head is clouded with a thick fog. You're willing to bet that there are some kind of pheromones involved here. Something makes you feel so high on these calm feelings. It's as though you're simply floating.
In the back of your head, you can hear the other two talking back and forth. Tavros' arm squeezes tighter around you when Aradia says something. Her hand falters once when he says something to her.
You need to adjust your position and sit up to perform a reenactment of the 7th inning stretch during the infamous 1987 Superbowl.
After a few minutes of the three of you twisting, you end up with your back being supported by one of Tavros' arms that wraps down around your waist. Your legs weave with Aradia's. The trolls lean their heads together, shoulder to shoulder. Aradia continues to pet your hair but she changes it up by holding Tavros' hand.
The conversation returns but this time you're drawn into it more.
You hear Tavros berating himself. You're not sure what it's about, and this is the first time you've heard him be so open about his confidence issues in front of you. It isn't like you didn't know about his feelings. You have eyes.
But something about this pure honesty strikes you low in your stomach, like being driven through to the hilt, punched in the face, and spit on.
Your expression become serious, widened eyes meet his.
“Tavros,” you hear yourself say. “Tav, step out of the beat here and take a look at this movie playing out right now. Try to put a little faith in the writers. Do you really think this little piece would have been kept in the final cut if the main protagonist was complete shit? Trust the story to play out like it should. You'll like the ending.”
He just looks at you. His mouth hangs open slightly and you bring your thumb up to brush his bottom lip. He looks confused and excited all at once. You figure that he's just unsure of toeing the line. Crossing the boundaries of his quadrants. And maybe he's getting off in some weird troll way about all of this.
That's just fine with you.
You pull his face to yours, softly kissing those lips. Reaffirming the exact quadrant you are in with him. You lay multiple pecks against his dark lips and move to kiss at his cheeks and nose and chin and eyelids and every last inch of gray skin you can find.
When you pull away, Aradia is tenderly admiring you. You recognize it instantly. While you've never actually witnessed the expression, the slight upturned mouth and the gentle eyes, you understand the appreciation she is sending your direction. You've felt the same affections enough times towards her when you see how happy she makes Tavros.
You advert your gaze, then untangle yourself to turn towards Tavros. Your hand presses against his chest and you push him supine. You crawl up him. Leg over his, head on his chest, you wrap your arm over his waist.
Your hand reaches Aradia's and you pull her down as well. She curls up alongside Tavros, a hand and cheek resting on his chest across from you. Your eyes meet, time slowing between the two of you. You smile subtly as your eyes slide closed and your breath evens out.
When you wake up later, you will find Aradia gone and a tray of cranberry-orange muffins in the kitchen. Tavros will have been awake the whole time, stroking your hair. His eyes will be red like he had shed some tears, and you will be able to empathize with those emotions.
You'll snatch up your sunglasses and quickly cover your face up again. Tavros will clean the pile up while you get yourself some apple juice. Things will go back to normal routine.
You'll play video games together and make popcorn to watch a movie and eventually fall asleep in your bed that will carry the scent of the three of you this time.
You won't have any ability to predict if something like today will ever happen again, but you will carry this memory with you for your entire afterlife.