Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Branch chewed on the end of a pencil, staring hard at some blueprints in front of him. His brow was furrowed, jaw clenched, body still, like a predator waiting for prey to move so he could lunge for the kill. Only, in this instance, the prey was a series of lines and equations, and they weren’t going anywhere. The blueprints detailed design concepts for ways the techno trolls could maneuver on land while still being surrounded by the comforts of water. Standing on their fins for too long was exhausting, and it kept a lot of the kingdom apart from everyone else.

He was brought out of focus by a fidgeting figure beside him, flickering lights distracting him from his fixation. He turned and saw King Trollex, bouncing on his fins with his hands clasped. The king’s bioluminescent markings were duller above water, but they pulsed anxiously as he watched Branch. Both of them were taking this very seriously, like Branch was doing architectural surgery. He realized that he hadn’t said anything in several minutes and was probably stressing his buddy out.

“So,” he started with, removing the pencil from his mouth. The king perked up, flashing a brief orange light. Branch searched for something insightful to say. “I think, so far, that the schematics look good. You’re using vinyl for the outside, that’ll be good, that’s waterproof.” The orange flickering melded into an easy green glow.

“We actually picked that up from the Rock Trolls,” he said “When they came underwater, that is. We thought they were using leather, but Queen Barb says that if it soaks in, the leathers get ruined. So, yeah. Vinyl.”

It was obvious that tensions weren’t completely ironed down. That little green fish that never left Trollex’s side shuddered, recalling the attack, and Trollex himself spoke with some strain. Still, he was trying. Branch could empathize.

“Our main issue is that it covers everything. Even if we have windows, you guys wouldn’t be able to really touch anything outside. And your voices would probably be muffled, too.”

King Trollex sighed, cuddling his fish closer. It beeped at him reassuringly.

“Right. I want everyone to be able to interact like normal, y’know? But I gotta make sure my people are comfortable. And safe.” The lights dimmed to an indigo, blending in with the natural color of his skin and almost making it seem like he wasn’t glowing at all.

Branch resisted the urge to put the pencil back in his mouth, instead deciding to tap it against his chin as he went back to frowning at the paper. He understood why this was delegated to him–he was the most engineer savvy of the pop trolls–but this wasn’t something he had ever really dealt with, and he was kinda stumped. It didn’t help that this was one of the first collaborative projects between kingdoms. This needed to go right. For everyone. Poppy had insisted it would be a great way for Branch to get to know everyone, but he mostly felt like he was doing busy work with a nightlight hovering over his shoulder. Neither trolls really felt closer.

“Maybe…” Branch drew out, trying to bring something to the conversation. 

Ding~!

Branch flinched as his bracelet gently chimed at him. The flower bloomed a brilliant green and sparkled at him, cheerfully reminding him about Hug Time. Almost on instinct, Branch folded the petals back in and turned back to work, but the sound and the light had caught Trollex’s attention. He pointed.

“What was that?” He asked. The markings on his wrist mimicked the green flickers and Branch felt himself flush with embarrassment. 

“Oh, that’s–that’s nothing,” he stumbled. “That just means it’s Hug Time.” There was no recognition from King Trollex, so Branch continued. “It’s a Pop Troll thing.”

“Oh…” Trollex’s earfins lowered slightly, almost as if he was disappointed. Branch found himself hurriedly backtracking.

“I mean, I mean it’s not just a Pop Trolls thing. Like, uh, I think they started it but it’s not like it’s just for them. They’re probably happy to include anyone, honestly. I know Poppy didn’t hesitate hugging Hickory when we met him.” Trollex chuckled slightly at Branch’s ramble, and then it fell awkwardly silent.

“Do you…does that mean we hug now?” He asked.

“Uh, yeah, I guess. If you want.” Branch spread his arms, but it looked less like he was offering a hug and more like he was receiving an invisible, cumbersome package. He…still was not used to hugging anyone but Poppy. Another chuckle left Trollex as he slipped into Branch’s hug. The pop troll was immediately surprised as one of Trollex’s hands cradled his head like he was a little kid. 

Branch couldn’t help but be intensely aware of every little thing about the hug. He had always been sensitive around textures and such. Trollex had smooth, cool skin, and Branch could feel the beat of the techno troll’s pixelated heart. 

It was maybe a five second hug all together. It wasn’t bad, Branch decided. Trollex stumbled as the two separated, tripping a little on his fins. They stared at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“Sorry man, that was weird, wasn’t it,” asked Trollex through a grin. Branch shook his head defensively.

“No! No it was fine, sorry I don’t really–I’m not really the best for the experience, heh.”

“Well that makes two of us! You’re a lot bigger than anyone I’ve ever hugged. Usually hugging's for kiddos and some of the critters we live with.” As if proving a point, he snuggled Beat Drop to his chest like it was a little plush toy. It beeped with cheerful affirmation. Branch laughed a little more. It was a cute sight. 

He turned back to the blueprints and lifted his pencil, but was suddenly brushed with a curiosity.

“So, what do you guys do for affection? Besides singing together, of course.” Trollex’s lights lit up a bright green.

“Well, we hold hands, we dance. That’s pretty basic stuff,” he mused. “Our lights actually do a lot of the talking for us.” He held out his arm, and the lights flickered into his regular rainbow sleeve of color. “We can control them, to a degree. I really like the rainbow look. But, when it comes to solid colors, purple is neutral, but it gets happier closer to blue. Since most of us have a default pattern we like to maintain, purple comes out when we’re focusing hard on something else. Green is cheerful or excited! Like your bracelet!”

Branch looked back down at his bracelet, now curled back into a bud, seemingly satisfied with the hug. “Guess I picked a good color then.” Trollex nodded.

“Yellow is nervous or bothered,” he continued. “Orange is kind of nervous, too, but it could also mean embarrassed or flustered. Then red is distressed or hurt, and pink is affectionate or lovey. It can also be proud. If our markings aren’t glowing at all, that usually indicates someone’s really upset or numb.”

Branch thought about that, remembering his own decades of gray skin. It was pretty similar, honestly. And the fact that pink was affectionate? Poppy would love that. It fit her perfectly.

“Tencho trolls can be any color though, right? Are yellow techno trolls more anxious than others?” Branch asked.

“No, no your skin color doesn’t matter at all. It's all about the lights. They’re like facial expressions for us! And making our own patterns, that’s like makeup!” Trollex beamed, and Branch could read his expression just a little better, thanks to the neon green undertones.

“That’s incredible.”

“Yep! There isn’t a lot of color once you go really deep in water, everything gets swallowed up by blue. So our emotions glow to stick out. Everyone always knows to go help if they see a red light anywhere.” 

“I can’t imagine always being on full display like that,” Branch admitted.

“Yeah, not everyone digs it, but it’s part of what makes us unique.” A thought seemed to jolt into the king’s mind. “Oh! You know what else we do?”

Branch looked inquisitively as Trollex held up two fingers towards him, offering a peace sign. He slowly lifted up his own peace sign, and Trollex nodded eagerly, touching the tips of their fingers together.

“Peace…” He changed his hand to be half of a heart and Branch mirrored it. “Love…” They intertwined fingers. “Unity…” Trollex pulled a small beaded bracelet down his arm. Branch hadn’t even noticed it; it was made of clear beads that took to whatever color shimmered underneath it. He watched as Trollex pulled the bracelet over their clasped hands and fashioned it on Branch’s wrist. “And respect! We trade bracelets like that!” He pointed to the bracelet as they unclasped hands. “I got that bracelet from my first trade, and now it’s yours!”

Branch admired the accessory with a sense of wonder and awe. The small, translucent beads shimmered at him, not drawing too much attention to themselves, but making a lovely addition to his attire nonetheless. He suddenly felt embarrassed by the whole thing, especially because he hadn’t upheld his end of the trade. It was more of a gift, and an important one at that. He had to set things right.

“So, like this?” Branch offered his peace sign back to Trollex, who happily reciprocated. “Peace, love, unity, and…” Branch pulled his hug time bracelet onto the king’s wrist. “Respect! Right?” Trollex stared, wide-eyed, at the bracelet. It was just a little too big for him, and his lights pulsed a quiet yellow underneath.

“Yeah!” He grinned. “You’re giving this to me?” He was a little quieter, making sure that he wasn't making any sort of assumptions.

Branch nodded.

“Wouldn’t be a trade, otherwise! Besides, Poppy loves making those things. I’ll have six more before I could even explain where mine went.”

“You aren’t worried about forgetting?”

“Trust me, I’ll be reminded.” He smiled with makeshift annoyance, knowing that if he was anywhere in public, he’d be bombarded with hugs on all sides. It was impossible to forget. It was strange, kind of looking forward to it after two decades of dreading it and carefully planning around it so that he was never above ground when it happened. “I’ll show the bracelet thing to Poppy. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Awesome! Let her know she’s welcome to come trade with us anytime.”

“Yeah, we can visit you guys! We might need some kind of air bubble though…” Suddenly, an idea rocketed into Branch’s head. “That’s it! A bubble!!!”

Trollex tilted his head and Beat Drop let out an inquisitive chirp as Branch rushed for a new piece of paper. He scribbled in silence, newly invigorated.

“Wanna share with the class?” Trollex asked playfully.

“The Funk Trolls!” Branch said. “They have technology–these bubbles! Poppy and I rode in some when we visited. They let some things pass but not others, and they’re pretty sturdy, and they can carry weight! And they fly! With their help, we could maybe fill them with air or water, that way, all trolls can go above and below water.”

Trollex pumped a fist in the air. “That’s what I like to hear! Woo!! Breakthrough!!!” He grabbed Branch’s hand. “Let’s go talk to Queen Essence and King Quincy right away!”

With a firm nod, the two bolted out of the room, laughing with excitement, hands entwined, like they had been best friends from the start.

Chapter Text

Trolls were trying their best to all get along now that the kingdoms were united, and the leaders were doing a great job of being understanding. Funk got along with everyone, and classical, techno, and country were quick to latch on to the idea of everyone being buddies. There was…tension with the rock and pop trolls. People weren’t super hyped that they both tried to wipe all the other cultures off the map at one point or another, but Poppy was fighting tooth and nail to get everyone on good terms, to spread friendship and seek to understand everyone.

Still, change was sudden and unexpected. Not everyone immediately got on board with every other type of music. It wasn’t an uncommon pop opinion: classical music was boring, and so were the trolls associated. Come on, they didn’t even sing! At all! Not even a little!

Branch had been nervous meeting with the esteemed Wolfgang Amadeus Trollzart, but he was quickly rising the ranks as one of Branch’s favorite people to work with. He was calm, mild-mannered, but still full of passion and energy. Above all, he was detail-oriented and professional. It was such a breath of fresh air. Trollzart seemed to share a similar sentiment. Branch was quiet and focused, genuinely happy to learn more. They both fell into natural leadership positions, and this time, it was Trollzart’s turn to do the teaching.

His wings flittered, jingling like a glockenspiel. Branch hadn’t even heard of a glockenspiel before the world tour.

“Alright. Pop quiz. Let’s review.” He held up several flashcards and Branch straightened up, rubbing his hands together eagerly. Trollzart started flipping cards rapidly, with his dutiful student answering just as fast.

“Trombone. Trumpet. French Horn. Euphonium. Tuba. Clarinet. Flute! Piccolo!”

“Good, good.” Trollzart daintily set down the first round of cards. “Now, percussion.”

“Timpany. Xylophone. Marimba. Vibraphone…is that another xylophone that you put in there to trick me?” Trollzart’s bell-like laugh exposed his guilt. He had done that.

“ Very good. Now…” He removed one final card: a stringed instrument about the size of a ukulele. It had a chinrest, was made of polished wood, and had no hole like an acoustic guitar. “Is this a violin ? Or a fiddle ?” Branch took the card in his hand, inspecting it closely. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead.

“It’s…” he felt like he was taking too long. He didn’t want to fail here! Not on the last question! His gaze remained fixed on the card, not wanting to look up and see Trollzart’s completely neutral expression, the one that masks all judgment, the one that pierces through you, impassive. “It’s……uh…”

Ding~!

Dang it! Stupid Hug Time bracelet, ruining his focus. Whatever, he could recover. He couldn’t afford to get distracted. What Branch didn’t expect, however, was for the instructor himself to pull away from the lesson.

“What is that?” Trollzart asked, flitting his wings until he was level with Branch’s wrist. His feet just barely hovered above the table that he was sitting at. “How lovely, is this a tuner?” He placed a finger delicately on one of the petals of the flower that had bloomed. “It struck a beautiful concert A.”

Branch remembered talking about concert notes. Some instruments were tuned differently, so an A on a piano may be a B on a trumpet or an E on an alto saxophone or an F on a french horn. He didn’t quite get why that was the case, but he figured it would come up in a lesson sooner or later.

“No, uh, it’s not that practical. It’s a Hug Time bracelet.”

“Hug…Time?” Trollzart spoke as if he had never heard either word.

“Pop trolls like to, uh, hug and stuff. Hug Time is when it’s time to hug, so you find another troll and…give them a hug,” Branch said, realizing that he had said “hug” far too many times in one breath.

“How frequent is this?”

“Every hour.”

“Hm.”

Trollzart didn’t seem particularly impressed as he folded the petals back into the bracelet. Looks like the classical troll wasn’t planning on partaking in that tradition. Branch felt a hint of disappointment, but mostly relief. He didn’t want to crush the guy. Poppy always said his good hugs crushed her ribs, and while she asserted that was great for her, it would not be great for a troll half his size.

“You’re quite the…physical bunch, aren’t you?” Trollzart said, his head tilted slightly.

“Yeah. I’m still not…super into it all, but I’d like to say I’m pretty good at the fist bump thing now.” Branch held out his fist and Trollzart seemed amicable enough to the idea of returning the gesture, touching fists with a gentle bap. “Do classical trolls not hug?”

“Oh, no, not really.” He spun in the air so that his back was facing Branch, and for a moment he thought he had upset the conductor. Trollzart gestured calmly to his wings. “Our wings take up most of the space on our backs, so wrapping our arms around each other would impede our flight.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Branch said with a shrug.

“But,” Trollzart continued, turning back to face the pop troll. “Don’t think we aren’t affectionate. We may just show it in different ways.” He held a hand out, indicating Branch. “May I?”

“Uh, sure!” Branch, at first, thought he was supposed to take Trollzart’s hand, but just as he started to lift his arm, Trollzart moved to his shoulder, nudging him out of the seat.

“Up you go. Now, arms out. Let me get a good look.” Branch t-posed while Trollzart flitted around, scrutinizing him. It was like that for a minute or so before his arms were waved back down.

“Tuning is very important for us classical trolls,” Trollzart said, flying up to Branch’s vest. He began to examine each leaf in his hands, wiping away any dust, dirt, or lint. “If we’re out of tune, we can’t make a full sound. The goal in an orchestra is for each part to blend seamlessly as one. Voices build upon each other, and shouldn’t stand out unless the sheet music intends it to be so. Solos aren’t too common for us, but, even then, we would never let someone perform alone if they were out of tune! That wouldn’t be fair to them. They wouldn’t be getting their best sound.”

Branch nodded. “Some people around here play ukulele and guitar,” he offered, trying to relate. “Poppy showed me how to tune her ukulele once. She has an electronic tuner, but you still have to turn the knobs and stuff.” 

“Yes, much of the music you and the other tribes make is greatly assisted by electronics. The technology is not as widespread where we come from. We mostly focus on building off of each other. Coming together as one, even if that sound isn’t on the exact decimal point of perfect.” He flew up a little, seemingly satisfied with the front of the vest, then went to address the back. “Warming up, tuning, it really brings us together, even before we play an actual song. Plus, I know well enough that my students bond over the monotony of longtones.” He laughed, a joke that he got and Branch didn’t. Though Branch did find it interesting that there were aspects that even the classical trolls found boring.

“So it’s more of an…authentic sound? Since it’s not corrected by autotune, and all your instruments are acoustic?” Branch offered.

“Yes, yes exactly. Even recordings rarely do our performances justice. You really have to see them live, feel the rush of the sound as it’s happening. It changes people, music.” The two fell into a contemplative silence for a moment, before Branch turned, unable to keep down an anxious question for any longer.

“So, uh, what does this have to do with you messing with my vest?” It came out a little harsher than intended, but for “not being very physical,” Trollzart was really in his personal bubble.

“Hm? Oh! Yes, my apologies, I got carried away. I meant to walk you through the process.” He pulled back sheepishly.

“Please,” Branch urged.

“The second thing us classical trolls like to do for each other is ensure that we look our best. That our uniforms are clean and straight. That our hair is nice and neat. That we remain professional and formal, for whatever occasion we may be facing.”

Thinking about it, Branch recalled seeing groups of classical trolls fussing with each other’s hair, pressing down loose strands and gently adjusting curls. Not all of them wore clothes, so hair seemed to be the big thing.

“I admit I got a bit carried away preening you,” Trollzart said. “You have thus far respected my reluctance in engaging with your culture’s affection, and I will do the same.”

Branch couldn’t help but study the expression on Trollzart’s face as he said that. He recognized the look, like someone had dumped out a box of colored pencils and then haphazardly shoved them back in with no regard to what color went where. He got the feeling that he looked like a big project to Trollzart, a lovely cabinet begging to be organized. A desk to be dusted.

He glanced at his vest, surprised by how it looked noticeably nicer. He wasn’t…great about not getting covered in dirt and leaves and wood shavings. Living underground does that to you. Poppy always was complaining about finding pebbles and sticks in his hair when she combed through it. One time she found a small bird. That was not a fun day.

This could be okay. This could be a bonding activity!

“If, uh, if you want to do my hair, you can, I’d be okay with it. I do want to know about all the other cultures, and I think this kind of thing would really interest Poppy.” Branch smiled nervously. “Just, no curls, if that’s cool. And no glitter. And be fast.” He realized he was being weird about it. “Please.”

Trollzart looked delighted regardless and nodded with determination, suddenly producing a comb from his cape. He flew over to Branch and made deft strokes, not making any comments about the mess, which was relieving.

“Oh, hey,” Branch picked up the abandoned flashcard. “What was this? A violin or a fiddle?”

“It’s both. The only difference is what you play on it. I learned that after speaking with Miss Delta Dawn.” He could hear the smile in his voice, even if he couldn’t see it. “Isn’t that beautiful? How one thing can be so different even though it’s the same? How an instrument is shaped by the one who holds it? How we are all connected, even if we hadn’t realized it?”

Branch smiled to himself. That was pretty special.

Chapter Text

Branch was relieved to have Cooper with him. The funk family had invited him up to the ship to tour it for real, outside the threat of a rock apocalypse, and in the vast sea of unfamiliarity, he was glad he had something that could ground him. He knew Cooper! He had known Cooper for years. Cooper was normal.

Branch, less normal, was glued to his side, looking around the ship with wide eyes. Everything was so techy and sleek. The whole place pulsed with its own rhythm, and none of the ledges had handrails. Cooper let out a small yelp as Branch stepped on his foot, again, and despite the former insisting that it was fine, Branch was hot with embarrassment.

“Branch, man, give my bro some space.” Prince D pressed his head in between the two, separating them and taking his rightful place next to his twin. Branch got immediate separation anxiety. God, he wished Poppy was here. Queen Essence slipped in beside him, her long, silver lashes dipped low in sympathy.

“What’s got you so worked up, baby?” She asked. Branch was shocked at her gentle tone, how she addressed him like she was his mother, too. If he was a more emotional person, he might have burst into tears then and there. Luckily for him and his pride, he swallowed all his emotions! All the time! And he wasn't about to stop now!

“Just…just not used to being in the air. Or not knowing anyone. Or…any of this.” It was taking every ounce of restraint not to look down.

“Do you want to try a bubble?” King Quincy asked. The bubble technology had become widespread with its integration into techno trolls’ transportation. Branch had ensured it was very safe. It wasn’t his favorite thing in the whole world, though. He had more revisions he wanted to make. Plus, the thought of being even higher made him queasy.

“I’m okay,” he swallowed. Cooper tilted his head down to him.

“It’s cool Branch! Nothing’s gonna happen on our watch!”

“Yeah, man, it’s chill.” Prince D agreed. “Even if you fall, we'll catch you. We've got the stuff for that.”

Branch nodded stiffly, cracking a smile in the hopes of convincing everyone that he was a-okay and that they should drop the subject. The king and queen shared a knowing look.

“Let's go over here next. We'll show you two the nursery,” Queen Essence offered after a brief pause.

The nursery was the safest place on the ship: fully enclosed, with nowhere to fall, and with every measure taken to make sure the place was safe through any turbulence or crash. The windows had colorful, wiggly curtains and cushions were everywhere so that the stumbly babies wouldn't fall straight onto the metal floor. The music was quiet and had a steady beat, something that sounded familiar but that Branch couldn't quite place.

“Oh my goodness–! Your majesties!!” 

A bipedal, navy funk troll with gold makeup seemed to nearly faint as the group came in. She scrambled to the doorway, giving a quick bow to the royalty.

“Blu, it's so good to see you.” The king walked over to her as she rose from the bow, giving her an affectionate nuzzle on the cheek. Queen Essence did the same, followed by Darnell. Cooper, in his excitement, sort of slammed his whole head into hers, which was met with laughter from all parties. They weren't laughing at him, no. Branch could tell they were just…happy. A family back together. Imagine that.

He couldn't reach Blu to nuzzle her and he didn't want to anyways, considering he had known her for less than 30 seconds. For a moment he thought he was going to slip under the radar entirely, but Queen Essence tilted her head to gesture to him.

“This is Prince Branch of the pop trolls. He's taking a tour.”

“I-I'm not the prince!” He stammered. “There isn't a prince, really. I mean, I'm dating the princess, kinda, yeah, but, uh, it's only been a few weeks and–” another ripple of chuckles. Cooper nudged him and wiggled his eyebrows like a kid on the playground teasing another about a crush. Branch buried his face in his hands, the attempt to playfully embarrass him having fully succeeded. It felt weird. It felt…hollow. Like someone else should have been teasing him. Like he was missing something. It was something he felt when he watched Cooper and Darnell banter.

Which means it was something to shove away and deal with later! Not addressing that right now–no sir! 

“Well, I'm Blu. I run the nursery. It's very lovely to meet you Mr. Branch.” She seemed to cut through the teasing, giving Branch space to recover.

“You too,” he agreed, recovering.

“We haven't been here in a long time,” King Quincy admitted. “It'll be nice to be able to be with the kids again, after all these years.”

He leaned and snuggled against Cooper. Darnell and Queen Essence followed, the latter of which looked like she was two seconds away from bawling. 

Branch very suddenly felt awkward and like he wasn't supposed to be a part of this touching family moment. He turned his whole body to face Blu.

“So there's kids here?”

She nodded and gestured him further in.

“Most of these guys haven't seen a pop troll in real life. Just a warning: you're going to be a hit,” Blu said.

“I just hope they aren't disappointed,” Branch said, his voice low enough that he wasn't quite sure if Blu even heard him. He walked into a circle where some kids were playing on a big mat shaped like a keyboard. When you stomped on it, it made the note sound! Lots of notes were being stomped.

“Hi,” he offered to the crowd. He didn't know what he was doing. He had never been around kids! Except Tiny Diamond but…that was different. That was way different. A couple of the funk trollings stared over at him, their eyes wide. “What are you guys–ACK!”

Branch was interrupted by a swift headbutt to the back of the knees. The kids broke out into a chorus of giggles.

“No headbutting!” Blu scolded from the other end of the room. The giggles quieted, although slowly.

“Are you a rock troll?” One of the trollings asked.

“Pop, actually.” Branch pulled into a sitting position. The kid who asked looked unconvinced.

“Sing a pop song!!” Another demanded.

“Sing! Sing! Sing! Sing!” He was suddenly surrounded by excited and very determined kids.

“Okay! Okay okay!” He waved his hands in surrender. “But you gotta be quiet okay? Look, some of your friends are sleeping over there.” 

Some of the younger kids were cuddled together on cushions, napping away. Branch's group agreed, and one slid him a toy piano. A smaller one than the mat on the ground. They stared at him, eager and hungry.

He didn't know what to play.

His fingers hovered over the little plastic keys. The longer he waited, the more his audience squirmed, and he didn't have even a full minute before he knew he'd lose their interest. He was just gonna have to go for it.

He raised his hand and...!

Oh god no he couldn't do that. No no no. He was not thinking of the right songs. Oh God–

His mind, desperate, flicked back to the rock-pocalypse. What was a song he could sing? What was a pop song??

Hands on the keyboard. Just do it like Poppy. She was better at this than him, what would she do???

Oh. Right.

“Yooooo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want!”

Branch went through the medley Poppy had made for him and Biggie when they first met the country trolls. It was a little awkward without any other voices, and just a baby piano as instrumentals, but Cooper caught on after a moment or two and provided some harmonies, with Prince D following with some beatboxing, offering in the much-needed percussion.

“Shake that!”

All the kids whooped and hollered, immediately forgetting their promise to be quiet. The three performers had to rapidly hush them while still letting them express their excitement. Wouldn't want them thinking that they can't enjoy things, but also Branch wasn't looking to get himself and the family kicked out of the nursery.

Ding~!

The remaining rambunctious kids were briefly distracted by a green flower blooming on Branch's wrist. A couple clapped. A couple immediately lost interest. Cooper bumped against Branch's shoulder.

“Ooooooh! You know what time it is!”

Branch gave Cooper a firm side hug, and then nervously offered the same to Prince D, who accepted. 

“You aren't going to hug each other?” Branch asked as the two brothers went back to standing side by side. Cooper fidgeted back and forth a little.

“It's a little hard to give hugs with these!” He said, tapping each of his feet. “I'm sure the kiddos would love some hugs though!"

"Good idea," Prince D agreed. "Line up kiddos!”

Before Branch could even think about protesting, there was an assembly line of baby funk trolls, waiting to experience the pop hug. 

Branch held back a sigh and started scooping them up to give squeezes to. His social battery was plummeting and he was grateful when the twins began chatting to themselves, leaving him be for the most part. The kids were also fairly quiet, seeming to take this hug affair very seriously. That was, until they actually got into Branch’ arms, where they were a giggly mess. Almost all of them were crazy ticklish.

The quiet let him hear the music of the room a bit better. Soft, with a beat and some ambient sounds, like he was in a coffee shop. It was remarkably relaxing.

“Hey,” he said, referring to the brothers with a soft voice. He had gotten through most of the kids in the line. “This music–”

“Do you like it?” Cooper immediately leaned forward, tapping his feet excitedly. 

“I do, yeah. What is it? It doesn't sound like the music you play in other parts of the ship.”

“It's somethin’ me and my bro have been working on,” Darnell piped up, eternally chill beside his giddy brother. “Callin’ it lo-fi. It's supposed to be for the background, for chillin’ out ‘n stuff.” 

“It's really nice.”

The last funk troll curled up into Branch as he gave them a little squeeze, settling on his lap and deciding to fall asleep then and there. He looked at the kid with idle curiosity, almost envious. Imagine being able to fall asleep that fast.

“Alright,” Blu came over and plucked the sleeping kid from Branch's lap. The king and queen were just behind her.

“Let's keep going,” the queen offered.

Right. The tour. They weren't done yet. With everything that was going on, Branch felt less interested in walking around on a spaceship and more like holing up in his bunker and sleeping for three days straight. As they left, he gave one last look at the baby who had fallen asleep on his lap, searching for something he couldn't quite place.

Cooper and Darnell seemed fairly tired as well. Or, at least, Cooper did. It was hard to tell with the other prince, he was normally pretty subdued anyways. Branch mused about what time it was, deciding that it was probably mid-afternoon. They had to get up early to catch the ship as it flew over pop village, and it would fly back over again in the evening, which is when Branch would be dropped back off. So that's in about hours 4 hours, which turns into 1 hour 4 times, into 30 minutes 8 times, into–

“How about we take a break,” The king said, right as Branch was telling himself he only had to do 10 minutes 24 times. 

“You pop trolls have hug time, we have something a little different,” Queen Essence said. 

Cooper nodded, speaking sternly like a general announcing where his troops would be placed in the war. “ Nap time, ” he declared. Prince D chuckled.

“It's not nearly as frequent, of course. But sometime in midday, it's common to rest a little bit with the people you care about. Sleeping side by side builds trust,” the queen explained.

“Plus, you get to cuddle,” Darnell added, which made his brother tap his feet in excitement.

“Branch.” King Quincy stepped beside him. “I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to join us. We have another room you can go to if you'd like to wait or rest on your own. We can get you food if you'd like.”

Branch considered. He was pretty tired. Less because of the physical activity and more because of the social activity. Taking a nap around other people…would that affect his battery? I mean, ideally he wouldn't be conscious, but he had a pretty hard time getting to sleep on his own. Maybe he could just…scope out the room. It's not like he had to cuddle or anything.

“I'll stick with the group, I'm pretty tired, too.” The response elicited even more happy taps from Cooper, which made Branch smile in spite of himself.

They found their way to a large room, surprisingly similar in structure to the nursery, with dim lights and cushions everywhere. Funk trolls were pilled up, snoozing away in each other's company. 

“Sleeping with others is ideal for us because of our body structure. It's hard to completely lay down on your own, and not super comfortable.” Prince D gestured to a pair of funk trolls, each one sitting down and resting their head on the other's back, like a little yin yang. 

“That makes sense.”

“We've still got pillows for people who like to go solo though.” 

That would be Branch.

The five trolls got comfortable, with the funk family piling into a clump and Branch laying down a short distance away. He always liked having lots of pillows. It was wayyy better than just, sleeping on the ground, which he had done for an embarrassingly long amount of time. He thought it would toughen him up! Prepare him for the gritty reality of life. 

Mostly it just made his back hurt.

But that was in the past. He held a small pillow to his chest and closed his eyes, listening to the steady lo-fi rhythm that was present in this room as well. His anxieties weren't quite quieted, and he wasn't sure if he'd actually be getting any sleep, but he was glad to be there. It was relaxing, and he was among friends.

Chapter Text

“Mighty kind of you to help me with this, Branch.” Delta Dawn hummed as Branch dutifully loaded crates into a storage room. “Word's been going around that you've been talking to all the kings and queens, I was wondering when you'd stop by to see little ‘ol me.”

“Yeah,” Branch breathed, pushing a particularly heavy crate up onto another. He decided to not mention the part where it was Poppy who told him to try and meet with everyone. Besides, at this point, his interest in the others’ practices was starting to overpower his social awkwardness. “You don’t call yourself the queen though, right?” Delta gave him a snort laugh at the very question.

“Oh, no, nothin’ fancy like that. I’m more of a sheriff.” 

Right. She was the one who had thrown them in prison. She had never…actually apologized for that whole thing, despite Poppy’s adamant apologies for causing trouble in the first place. Maybe she didn’t need to. It was hard to get mad at a leader for following their own rules. The way she disregarded pop music, though. Branch wondered how much she still held on to that sentiment. 

The grinding of wood took him out of his musings as he watched Clampers chew through the latch on the top of the crate with devastating efficiency. Spitting out a mouthful of wood chips, she began counting the goods inside, making sure everything was accounted for. Delta had noticed Branch’s apprehension when they had started working, and had sternly told him that “Clampers takes after her momma, neither of them ever left  my side. She’s a great help, and this is a good way to get her energy out. You got an issue?” Branch vehemently denied any issue, but he was nervous around the little girl. She did nearly bite his leg off.

“Everythin’s here Auntie Dawn!” She piped up, leaping off the crate.

“Atta girl, Clampers. Now, what say we get some supper cookin’? I’m sure you two kiddos have worked up a dust devil’s appetite.” Delta gave a sharp point over her shoulder with her thumb, beckoning for everyone to get out. Branch bit his cheek, holding back a comment about how he was very much not a kid anymore. He knew better than to start a disagreement with the sheriff. Not again. He couldn’t go back to jail .

Delta clapped her hand down on his shoulder to keep him moving and all but shoved him into a chair at a large dining table in the next room. The chairs were wooden and ornately carved with embroidered pillows on the seat. There was a checkered tablecloth laid out and a centerpiece of a bowl of fake fruit. Looking around, the walls were adorned with various wooden signs that said things like “ gather ” and “ it’s so good to be home ” and “ bless the food before us, the family beside us, and the love between us. ” Mason jars were tastefully scattered around, filled with string lights or little sweets or packets of coffee creamer. It was all a little silly to Branch, but he couldn’t deny that it made the place feel homey. A well-loved space. 

Clampers begged to help with cooking and Delta set her to cut tomatoes into slices. Huh. Most trolls he knew wouldn’t just hand a knife to a child, and he certainly didn’t trust it in the hands of Clampers, but she seemed to know exactly what she was doing, cutting tomatoes like a professional chef and never once nicking herself on the blade.

As the heavenly smell of various cooking meats, vegetables, and breads filled the room, Branch found himself embarrassed that he was just sitting there while the two country trolls were doing so much work. He scooted off the chair and walked over to the kitchen, trying to stand in a place where he wasn’t in the way.

“Do you want any help?” He asked. He was pretty okay in the kitchen. He had kept himself alive for twenty years, hadn’t he? But Delta didn’t even look at him before she threw a dismissive wave over her shoulder.

“Oh don’t you worry hon, you’ve done plenty to help. You sit down and relax, I’ll bring over some biscuits while you're waitin’.”

Not the answer he wanted.

“Are you sure?”

“Yessir.”

It was confident and it was final. There was no use even trying to argue. Branch slowly began to make his way back to the table, wondering if he could maybe clean a little? The place was nearly spotless, but he had to do something . 

Ding~!

“Clampers, go give that boy a hug, will you?”

Branch was surprised as Delta immediately sent her niece over at the sound of the hug bracelet’s chime, and even more surprised when the hug involved no teeth. The little girl wrapped her arms around his legs with an iron grip.

“Squeeze!” She said, for good measure, before bounding back to slicing veggies. Branch had hardly even gotten a hand down to pat her on the back. He stood there, dumbfounded, earning him a glance from Delta. Seemingly deciding something, she dusted her hands off and trotted over to him, giving a bear hug of his own. Half of his body was engulfed in auburn hair and he was fully lifted off the ground for the duration. He had to admit, it was a top-tier hug…for Poppy’s standards. It was a little too much for him. He had to gasp for air when she finally separated.

He shook his head, looked up, and she was right back to cooking.

“You…” he was still reeling a little. “You know about Hug Time?” He asked, lamely. This earned him another snort laugh from Delta Dawn.

“You know, you ain’t the only one going around learning about other folks.” She put something in the oven and was immediately working on something else. “I got to learn all about this ‘Hug Time’ when I met with Poppy last week. It’s cute. I like it.”

“Do country trolls do anything like that?”

“You askin’ if we hug? Of course we hug! We’ve got arms, don’t we?” She walked over and thrust a plate of biscuits into Branch’s hands. Each one was topped with a large spoonful of jelly. “These arms are also for workin’, though. That’s what we do with most of our time.”

“You work until yer in a wooden onesie!” Clampers shouted.

“Atta girl, Clampers.”

“Wooden onesie?” Branch asked.

“Coffin.”

“Oh.”

Branch made his way back to the table, setting the plate down. He took a bite of one of the biscuits. It crumbled in his mouth and was incredibly sweet from the jelly. Not like candy sweet, though. It was something else. It was fantastic. Branch grabbed two more, resisting the urge to take the entire plate. 

“Workin’ together is like our dancin’ and huggin’. It’s what we do, all day every day. We still dance and hug, but we don’t make a whole livin’ out of it like you guys over in the Pop Village,” Delta Dawn explained. “We tell stories and get our hands dirty and make each job just a little easier for one another. Dig a well with your friends, you’ll never feel closer. Dig a well alone, and the water will always be too dusty.”

Ouch. That stung. The water quality in the bunker was entirely serviceable, but the whole place, hollowed out by his hands alone, filled with bedrooms for no one, fear and paranoia permanently carved into the walls…Branch knew what she meant. He frowned into his delicious biscuit, his ears dipping downwards.

This seemed to catch the sheriff’s eye. She glanced at Clampers like she was consulting with a warden. Clampers was washing dishes, and looked, wide eyed, from her Aunt Dawn to Branch. A silent decision was made. Again. Delta gave an exaggerated sigh.

“If all yer gonna do is sit there and mope, then get in here. Wash your hands; I’ll make work for ya.”

“Oh,” Branch replied, startled. “Okay.” Again, there was no room for objection, not that he had any. He appreciated the bone being thrown his way, the chance to feel useful. He washed his hands and began taking instruction from Sous Chef Clampers, who showed him how to properly batter little pieces of a vegetable called “okra” so that they could be fried. Once he was done with that, Delta had him mix some kind of pudding batter. Then, Clampers showed him how to shred some kind of meat, and Delta had him carefully weave pie dough together to make a lattice on top.

By the time they were all done, Branch couldn’t have been more grateful that he was allowed to help. Even if the two had gotten a bit snippy with him at times and even if it was a total mess, he was proud of the spread. He didn’t think that he could have managed just sitting there for all the time the food would have taken anyways, even if conversation was flowing smoothly.

The only issue was that they now had enough food to feed a small army.

The three sat at the table and grabbed servings of bread and vegetables and meat and pudding. Clampers took much less than he would have expected. It seemed she was more about chewing things–not eating them. Or she had been sneaking tastes while cooking.

Delta Dawn told a story about when she was little, about her parents and working and growing up in the desert. The settlement hadn’t actually been founded very long ago. Lots of older country trolls grew up on their own, braving the sandy frontier without a community to support them. She said that there were other country settlements outside of her own, scattered all around Lonesome Flats. She wasn’t in charge of them, though. All she was was the string keeper, and now that that was gone, she was a regular sheriff of a regular town.

Branch told a few stories of his own. He mentioned offhand that he lived alone for a long time and built a hideout away from people, but mostly talked about Poppy. Tales of how she befriended the bergens, how she sought to unite all trolls. How she was wrong, sometimes, and stubborn, and painfully optimistic, but always, somehow, pulled it off and saved the day. How he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Then he got embarrassed and pretended to drink iced tea for several minutes when he realized he had been rambling. His crush on Poppy was about as subtle as the girl herself. 

When they were all finished, there was still about eighteen thousand pounds of food on the table.

“What do you do with all this?” Branch asked. He couldn’t imagine that someone as resourceful as Delta would just throw it away. She gave a warm smile.

“We open our doors,” she said.

“Huh?”

Delta trotted over to the front door and threw it open, calling out into the street for anyone who could hear.

“SUPPER’S READY!”

Suddenly, the ground began to rumble, and Branch’s chest tightened. An earthquake? A sinkhole? An avalanche, somehow??? No, looking out the window, it was the stampede of townsfolk rushing to the door, all coming to eat together.

Clampers bit Branch’s hand.

“Ow! Hey!” He turned to her and she grabbed the hand she bit, tugging him into the kitchen. It was a good thing, too. The dining room was flooded with people just seconds after. They had just barely avoided the tidal wave of hooves. It reminded him of when Poppy invited the whole town into his bunker. Branch rubbed his hand, thankful for Clampers leading him out but unsure if the biting was entirely necessary.

“Sorry, Mr. Branch,” she offered.

He watched the commotion from the kitchen. It was like an impromptu party, everyone grabbing food and laughing and talking. Children squeaked and chased each other around, knocking into furniture and getting told “don’t do that” and promising to behave only to be running around again five minutes later. Adults caught up on each others’ lives, sharing hardships and successes. 

When Delta Dawn was finally visible again, every guest made sure to approach her individually and thank her for the meal and the company. She smiled and told them that it was nothing. That she had help. That she couldn’t dream of eating all this food herself. That it gave her an excuse to pick up the house. She deflected, but in a way that made it easy to see through her words. 

“I did this for you ” seemed to carry from her every breath. “ I love you. I’m so glad I get to work hard for you. I want you to know how much I care. I love you. Thank you for being here. ”

Branch had a feeling they knew. He had a feeling everyone just…knew.

When Delta Dawn started a song in another room and the guests began to clap and tap in time, Clampers bit Branch again. It was gentler, though, like she was just resting her teeth on his arm. He guessed that was just how she got people’s attention.

“I wanna go sing with Auntie Dawn,” she said, thrusting a couple containers of tupperware at Branch. “I’m goin’. Thanks for your help! You can go whenever.”

And like a little kid with no social grace, she pattered off.

Branch chuckled, looking into the containers to find cornbread and pudding. A little note was stuck to the topmost one, written while he had been focused elsewhere.

This is how we do it down here. Figured your friends might like the sweet stuff. 

You’re a funny kid. Don’t let me take up your whole day, but come back real soon, yeah? 

~ Delta Dawn + CLAMPERS

Chapter Text

Branch knocked three times on a scuffed door, covered in its entirety by patches, posters, and stickers. It said things like “GET OUT” and had pictures of skulls and advertised tours that had been over for decades. One of those tour posters seemed to be cut straight from the back of an old shirt. Huh.

“What?” Snapped a voice from inside the room. Branch was relieved that he had even been heard, considering the loud guitar and drum music playing within. He could feel the bass in his chest as it vibrated the walls and floor.

“It’s Branch! You said we could meet today!” He yelled in, hoping his voice carried. He didn’t like yelling. Hopefully this would be short. But, considering that it had been several seconds without a response, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to get what he wanted.

Suddenly, the music paused. He heard footsteps trudging over. Then they stopped. 

Then the door flew open.

“AAAAAAAAA!” Screamed Queen Barb, holding a guitar like a baseball bat.

“AAAAAAAAAAA!” Screamed Branch, mostly just surprised. He shielded himself with the only thing he had on his person, a carefully wrapped bowl of salad. Luckily for him and the salad, no attack came, just some smarmy laughing from Barb.

“Haha! Gotcha, smokestack. What’s that?” She jabbed a finger at the salad.

Smokestack was her nickname for Branch, since he was grayish and had nearly black hair that Barb said reminded her of a chimney. Popsqueak and smokestack. Branch did not care for it. He also did not care for being screamed at and threatened with a guitar! So much for avoiding a headache.

“It’s a salad,” he said, dryly.

“What, they don’t let you eat leaves in Pop Village? Had to sneak out to my place?” Barb spun the guitar, and Branch couldn’t help but feel like she was swinging it a little too close to him on purpose.

“It was for you.”

Barb froze, expression shifting. She stopped swinging the guitar.

“Oh.”

He pushed it towards her and she took it gingerly, like it may explode on her. Most of Poppy’s gifts exploded, so it wasn’t that unfounded of a worry.

“I figured since you had been out traveling with Poppy, you’d been eating mostly sugar. Plus, the volcanoes don’t really provide the best environment for farming.” He was trying not to sound annoyed. He was failing. “So yeah. Salad.” 

He gestured into the room and she stepped to the side, letting him in. That…wasn’t what she had been expecting. She shook the salad container, staring at the tomatoes and leaves and avocados. Huh. There was even a little plastic fork tapped to the side of the bowl. She peeled off the plastic wrap Branch had put on it and tossed it to the side. (She’d pick it up later. Probably.)

“Sorry, man, didn’t mean to work you up that bad,” she said, genuinely attempting to apologize but kind of sounding like a jerk about it. “I forgot you were like, uptight and stuff.” She placed the salad on an end table and vaulted up onto the back of her couch, which was ripped and stained and had several t-shirts laying around that she hadn’t gotten to putting away. Branch moved a shirt and sat down on the couch like a normal person.

“It’s fine,” he said.

He stared at her.

She stared at him.

She slowly picked up the salad, removing the fork. With a drawn out crunch, she grabbed a forkful and ate it. Ew. Leaves. She tried to mask the fact that his salad gift sucked, but he smirked at her and reached into his pocket.

“I also got you some dressing.”

“Asshole!” She said, leaning over to shove him in as he cackled at her. She ripped the dressing packets out of his hand and immediately drenched her salad. “Making me eat dry leaves!”

“I didn’t make you!” He said. He was shoved again. “You deserve it! You deserve only leaves! You’re lucky I put avocados in there!”

Barb wasn’t Branch’s favorite. After she, you know, shot him with a rock zombie-fying laser and tried to do the same to everyone else, especially Poppy, he wasn’t really that into the idea of being chummy with her. Oh, and she sent bounty hunters after them! Branch still couldn’t listen to jazz without shivering with discomfort. 

But Poppy had taken to Barb almost instantly, despite everything, and Barb seemed genuine in her desire to make amends. The girls liked to hang out and Branch was there a lot of the time. Both of them bonded over playful annoyance at Poppy’s antics, and Branch eventually found out that Barb hadn’t been too excited about getting close to Branch at first, either. He was kind of collateral damage. Kind of. And he was the first one Barb used the power chord on. She wasn’t…super hyped about trying to face that guilt head on.

He had spent more time with her than any other leader, though. (Aside from Poppy, of course.) He was comfortable enough around her at this point. Rock music still gave him headaches after a while, which was why he was hoping this would be a quick trip. Thankfully she hadn’t turned the speakers back on yet.

Barb munched on her dressing, garnished with a hint of salad.

“How did the conferences go?” Branch asked. Her and Poppy had been out together, smoothing things down in other nations. They were doing their best to unite the trolls that hadn’t been at the rock-pocalypse concert and to ease the concerns of those who were. Branch wasn’t invited–and that was fine! He was cool with it! It was chill! Poppy gave him some management stuff to do in the village and urged him to talk to the leaders, so he was totally busy. In fact, he didn’t even want to go! He was glad ! It sounded boring . And not the fun kind of boring like whittling or drafting up all-encompassing peace treaty documents.

...

Okay he had really wanted to go–but that’s not the point!

“It was pretty whatever. I didn’t really do much. Poppy did all the talking.” Barb shrugged. “Like, what am I gonna say? Sorry I tried to destroy your livelihood~! Hugs and kisses~! Let’s all just try again~!” She took on a high-pitched, overly flowery tone. “That’s not gonna work for me.”

“So Poppy said all that stuff instead?”

“Yeah pretty much.” Barb paused to go spearfishing in her bowl for a moment. “I did apologize though. I tried to explain what I was thinking. Kinda talked about dad. I dunno, it was lame.”

Branch could see the embarrassment hot on Barb’s face as she avoided eye contact. He understood. Maybe not to this degree, but…he understood. He couldn’t imagine having to be emotionally vulnerable in front of the whole nation. He just had to be emotionally vulnerable to one nation. And it sucked. It was worth it, though. He wanted Barb to realize it was worth it, but didn't know what to say.

Ding~!

Barb threw her head back and groaned as Branch closed the bracelet, which had been trying to do the talking for him. 

“Seriously? Did you do that on purpose? Is 'Hug Time' connected directly to the amount of pity you feel?”

“No, trust me. I’ve checked.” Branch had had too many convenient Hug Times go off in the past. He did thorough research on the topic. “It's every hour. You just get unlucky.” There was a pause. “Did…you hug Poppy?”

“Uh, yeah, I hugged Poppy.” Barb made it seem like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The mandated time thing is weird, though. Like you’re in a hug cult.”

“Would you believe me if I told you these were made to actually make us hug less ?”

“What?”

“Everyone was always hugging, so nothing got anything done. This sets aside special time for hugging, so people can do other things in the meantime.”

“Gross. You guys are so weird,” Barb said with a mix of repulsion and genuine fondness. Branch knew the slippery slope well enough. Soon, she’d have her very own hug time bracelet and would be on democratic meetings to cuddle with babies. And would enjoy it. Or something like that. “Like, that just makes the whole thing awkward. Hug when you feel the hug, y’know? Otherwise you’re just stressing about the hug beforehand. Like, 'oh no, who’s around me, what have I been doing, am I holding anything dangerous, do I go over the shoulders or around the waist'–it would be a whole thing!” Barb flopped her arm out and let it fall back down for emphasis.

“Believe me, I understand. I understand better than anyone.”

“Like, affection shouldn’t be regulated . That’s weird.” She sat in silence for a moment, trying to leave it at that, but she blurted out one last, “what if you don’t even like hugs?!”

Branch understood. He understood better than anyone.

They chatted for a bit more about the conference, about Poppy. She had a couple more things to wrap up and had cheerfully sent Barb home early since Barb had admitted to being stressed out about the whole thing. She said that she thought that Poppy’s “you did such an amazing and super job I’m so proud of you everyone loves you” was a bit much, but she was glad to get a break. Then, they talked about their plans for the next few days. Branch had been invited to a welcome back party for Poppy, which he was going to attend the latter half off. Plus he had a few more meetings with some of the funk troll engineers about other ways their technology could help trolls get around. Barb talked about a few gigs she had set up, and how it was her dad’s birthday soon. Branch silently wondered if the One Nation Under Rock was originally her present for him.

“Oh, and me and Riff are gonna beat each other up tomorrow, so I’m looking forward to that.”

Branch raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Beat each other up? I thought you were friends? Or at least on a boss/employee basis?”

“Oh, no, yeah, we’re friends! We’re tight! That’s why I’m beating him up!” She extracted the last of the salad dressing from the bowl with her finger and licked it off. “Guess the pops don’t really do that. It’s a friend thing. Like play fighting. Like rats!”

“Oh, like you shoving me and threatening me with a guitar,” Branch said with a smirk. Barb laughed. “And me feeding you unseasoned leaves.”

“Smokestack, that wasn’t play fighting.” She looked over at him with a glint in her eye, like a cat right before it pounces towards a hanging string on a sweater. “That was a declaration of war. Hyah!”

Branch had been expecting the tackle and ducked as Barb launched herself towards him. He rolled off the couch as she landed on the armrest, immediately jumping for him again. She pinned him to the ground, kneeling on his chest and grabbing his wrists.

“That all you got? Going down just like that?” She teased. Branch grinned. Never.

He twisted one of his arms, shaking her grip loose and pushing her off his torso. She didn’t let go of his other arm, so he was pulled up with her. Perfect. He planted his feet in a crouch and prepared to strike, but she suddenly pounced over him like a game of leapfrog, grabbing him by the waist and lifting him into the air. He thrashed like a freshly caught fish, and she threw him back into the water. Which is to say, the couch. The force of his body knocked it over and he scrambled to recover, standing at the ready. 

The couch was in between them now. It was your typical stand-off. Her eyes were locked on him as they slowly inched around, waiting for the other to make a move. Branch looked up and down at his surroundings. He was on enemy turf; he needed any advantage he could get.

He stopped. She stopped. They stood, knees bent, arms out, ready . Then POP! Branch ducked down, hitting the floor and obscuring himself from Barb’s view. She gasped and vaulted the tipped over couch, only to find that he had used that time to scamper off.

Something soft hit her on the shoulder and she whipped around. No Branch. He was hiding . What a nerd. She looked down to see what had been thrown and saw a balled up t-shirt unraveling itself into a pile on the floor.

“Smokestack, you can’t hide forever~!” She taunted, moving so that her back was against the wall. That way, she only had three sides to worry about, front, left, and right. “This is my room.”

She noticed a tuft of navy blue fur peeking out from behind a vanity. Aha. Gotcha. She slowly prowled closer, trying to make it seem like she still wasn’t quite sure where he was hiding. Step. Step. Step. Then break for the vanity! She leapt into the air and behind the vanity, knocking it over to retrieve her fluffy foe, but when she saw what was in her grasp…

“Debbie?”

The bat was chewing on some hair, her eyes boggling in either direction. She sniffed the air twice, and then suddenly, her eyes focused on something above her. Barb froze.

“Hi-yah!” 

Branch, who had been patiently waiting on the ceiling, dropped down onto Barb. She let go of Debbie, who flew away without any interest in the situation, as the two trolls wrestled on the ground.

Once both Barb and Branch were tired out and equally convinced that they had won, they wrapped up their conversation about the conference and future plans, and Branch went on his way. Barb had punched him in the shoulder as he left.

“See ya, smokestack. Don’t be a stranger.”

“See ya, Barb,” he had said, giving her a light punch back.

He would look down at his vest, later, finding a small tear near the shoulder. It sent a bad feeling through his chest, like he had let go of something important. Like he had gotten carried away. Like he had failed at something. He sewed up the hole, trying to think of what Poppy would say to him tomorrow, what he would say to her. She would be so excited, so happy, so proud of him. There would be so much he could teach her, so much he could do for her. He cut the thread, smoothed down the fabric leaves, and decided that it was okay.

...This was okay.