Archive of Our Own ^beta

“No, Tango, I c⎯”

“Dude.” Tango levels him with a glare. “Listen to yourself. You sound worse than I did when I was hit in the throat with that hockey puck.”

“I do not,” He mumbles, feeling a tickle in his throat that signals that he should probably cough. He doesn’t, of course, because that would mean that he could prove Tango right. Nothing is worse than that. “I sound fine. I don’t even talk that much when I’m doing my part, anyway, I don’t even talk.”

“The last time you did one of your seshs, you made Skizz and Impulse run to the cornerstore to get you cough drops! What are you talking about! You literally talked so much that you had a sore throat then, and you really think it’s going to be any better now that you’re actually all sick and gross?” Tango exclaims, fluttering around and all but bodily pushing Etho to sit back down. He does so, not because he suddenly feels a bit lightheaded, but because Tango will push him if it comes to that. And Etho doesn’t really like touching people when he’s…

Not unwell, obviously, because he isn’t sick. Etho doesn’t get sick.

He just doesn’t like touching people in general! Nevermind the fact that Tango, along with the rest of TIES, has always been an exception to the rule. Etho blinks slowly, waiting for the spots to clear from his vision. He probably just sat down too quickly, like the opposite of vertigo. That’s definitely a thing, Etho’s sure. Tango continues puttering around, grabbing his laptop and placing it onto the bed instead of at his desk, where he’s sitting. Etho frowns.

“Dude, at least, like, y’know, let me work⎯”  

He doesn’t have anything in particular, no pressing deadlines, but he feels more useful when he’s sitting at his desk. If Tango is insisting on benching him, Etho would at least like to get something finished! He has plenty of digital mock-ups for experiments he has yet to bring into the physical form to play around with.

Tango matches his frown with one of his own.

“You’re sick, I’m not letting you do anything. Now, c’mon, sit down, you’ve got your laptop to watch stupid videos⎯ what’ve you been into lately, that one rant-y Star Wars channel? Do you even watch Star Wars?” Tango continues muttering to himself as he opens Etho’s laptop and queues up some of the videos that he’s talking about. As soon as that’s taken care of, he turns and adjusts the radio on his bedside table, tuning into the usual TIES channel from where it’d been turned after one of the guys had messed with it last time.

“Tango,” Etho says, exasperated. “I’m not, uh, I’m not an invalid. I can do things myself, dude! I’m not, not⎯” It might be the very worst moment for a coughing fit to overtake him. He reaches up, grabbing his mask and yanking it down to cough into his hands instead. It drags against his throat roughly, and eventually he has to double over, raggedly drawing breath into his lungs. Etho braces himself, resting hands on his knees, and slowly manages to regain his calm countenance.

“You were saying?” Tango mutters, coming over and gently rubbing circles on his back. Etho rolls his eyes, but he leans into the touch in spite of himself. “Look, man, it’s just one night that you’ve gotta take off. If you don’t, you’re probably gonna come down with a fever, and then where will we be? I don’t wanna take notes for you! You hate my notes! So just take the damn night off, have a good time by yourself, listen in on the station ‘cause you’re a nosy jerk, and rest up.”

“Ugh,” Etho groans. “I don’t like you.”

“I’m sure,” Tango says dryly. “Now get in bed before you make me wrestle you.”

“You are, you are too much, dude, alright,” He complains, slowly getting up with his aching bones. Whether that’s from his…not-sickness or only the fact that he’s been sitting with bad posture as a hunched shrimp for many years in a row, he can’t really tell. Tango’s touch, warm and seeping through the fabric of his casual t-shirt, does help. He ambles over to his bed, reluctantly shuffling under the covers and pulling his laptop onto his thighs.

“There you go. I think Skizz is gonna be on his way here with soup, don’t worry, Impy’s the one who made it, but still. It’ll probably take a while, though, so you can listen to the radio show without anyone knowing.” Tango’s smirk is toothy, of course, and Etho rolls his eyes again as he looks up at him. Tango snorts, reaching over and patting his head. “Yeah, yeah, ease up, buttercup! Anyway, I’m gonna get going now, you settle in.”

Etho huffs, and then Tango’s gone, leaving his dorm room in a flurry of movement, just as he entered it. The bed is comfortable, actually, and it does ease the ache in his bones. He pulls his laptop closer, lips twitching upwards when he notices that the video Tango had his mouse hovering over was one of the few he’d rewatched a bunch of times. A cough takes him by surprise and Etho covers his mouth with his elbow, tossing out his free hand blindly for the bag of cough drops Tango dropped off on the bedside table.

His radio is only playing static right now, of course, because the station isn’t on all the time, but it’s muted in a way that sounds more like white noise than anything bothersome. Etho hums as he clicks onto the video, reaching for his Bluetooth headphones and turning them on. The smooth dulcet tones of this particular commentator greets him, happy as always. He’s going to be honest⎯ He’s never watched Star Wars, never even been slightly intrigued by it, but Scar has a way of making it seem interesting even to a novice.

Plus, Etho likes to think he’s getting the hang of it now, after so long of watching the channel. It was recommended to him by Grian, who’d mostly played it off as a joking thing because Scar, the man who runs it, is one of his close friends. The channel is pretty small relatively, and it’s obvious that Scar simply films in his dorm room or a similar location in front of a neutral background, but it’s nice. Scar’s voice is calming to listen to, his rants are always impassioned but never overbearing, and he just carries a lot of feel-good energy that Etho enjoys observing.

He’s pretty sure that meeting Scar in real life would be mildly strange, after all this time of falling asleep listening to the guy’s voice, though.

A few coughs weakly escape him as he listens to Scar’s rant on Jedis, tabbing over and loading up one of the schematics he’s been playing around with recently. His classes are fun, for the most part, but half of them are still in that non-hands-on phase that Etho has never been very fond of, so he’s been mocking up some machines based on the theory they’re learning. Of course, he won’t know how well he’s doing until Tango manages to get him some proper materials, but it’s easy, mindless work that he can accomplish even with Scar’s voice like a podcast in the background.

A glance at the clock in the corner of the screen tells him that it’s nearing just half past seven, when Etho’s segment of the TIES radio show usually goes live. Impulse and Skizz haven’t been by yet, which is unsurprising, but he calms his growling stomach with the knowledge that they’ll be here soon. Skizz would never let a friend suffer without good comfort and Impulse is always dragged along, soup in tow, because they’re a package deal.

The stray thought reminds him of another package deal that has been haunting his mind recently…

He blinks and realises that he’s totally fucked something while fiddling on autopilot, hurriedly clicking the undo button with flaming cheeks. There’s no one in his room, but his gaze darts around anyway, as if someone could’ve seen the embarrassing blunder he just made. He’s done plenty of those, but it’s rare that he gets distracted thinking of people.

Crushes aren’t Etho’s forte. He doesn’t really understand them, but he has no other word to describe what the strange mix of fondness and exasperation he views them with is. His heartbeat speeds up slightly when he smells any kind of artificial cherry nowadays, because it always reminds him of the Cherry Blossoms perfume Lizzie carries around to spritz her and her boyfriend liberally with, and his eyes always lingers on anything that’s a bubbly pink or gentle green. 

Even his own brain betrays him! He’ll catch himself idly wondering what soup Joel prefers, or if Lizzie bakes because of the one time she came into class with rainbow sprinkles caught in her skirt. Etho isn’t a frivolous spender, especially not considering he’s still in college with a poorly paying part-time job, but the other day he genuinely stopped for thirty minutes debating if he needed a miniature stuffed frog holding a pink rose. (It turns out that he did, her name is Pinkies, she sits on his desk, and Skizz was the one to pick out her name.)

The only reason he bought Pinkies, though, which he is unfortunately well-aware of, is because it reminds him of Lizzie and Joel.

Etho plucks an earbud out, noticing the time, and catches the intro music for his usual late-night segment. He’s glad that Tango is sticking to his typical pattern. Obviously the listeners will clock onto the difference the second Tango pauses the music and asks for recommendations, but for now, the sanctity of his routine is intact. The playlist, too, is the one that he queued up in preparation for tonight. Etho hums along with the song, clicking out of Youtube and reviewing his schematic. There should be three or four songs before Tango’s break, as he always does it quicker than Etho.

Etho usually waits about five, sometimes six but only rarely, songs before he decides to pause and take some calls. There’s no reason why he does it like that, but he has since he started running that segment for TIES, so he isn’t keen on stopping anytime soon. Tango and Impulse always make fun of how set in his ways he is for an engineer, because their whole thing is about innovation, but Etho gets ‘tetchy’ when his routine isn’t followed to the letter.

He can’t help it! Something about his routine being disturbed makes his skin feel all tight, the way he used to get whenever he was in public without a mask. The feeling has lessened over time with certain things, like the radio show, but it’ll always rankle him slightly. For TIES, though, he understands. His voice sounds really rough right now, even if Etho maintains that he’s in optimal health⎯ It must’ve been all the shouting he and Skizz got into when they played Mario Kart a few days ago. He grabs another cough drop and sticks it into his mouth, tossing the wrapper onto the floor. They’ll get swept up later, if he remembers.

The honey and soothing menthol does wonders for his sore throat, thankfully. The vibrations from his humming had been rubbing him the wrong way, which is just plain annoying. Etho likes listening to music⎯ It’s his whole thing. Impulse and Skizz handle the talk show part of their radio station, often bringing on guests and treating the whole thing like a podcast, while Tango does short segments throughout the day on various tips and tricks or experiments. For a while there, he even ran a matching-making bit with Skizz and a guest star, BigB, called The Heart Foundation.

“Aaaaand that concludes our first round of music for the night! How y’all doing, how’s it going, what’s up? Now, now, so I know how our fun pal E likes to do his thing here, and his thing’s excellent, let’s be honest, it’s bonkers, so much fun, but I’m a lil different! I’m a lil different, and my music taste is way different from E’s, but I’m interested to hear what y’all wanna listen to!”

A soft chuckle, unbidden, escapes Etho’s lips.

He is a bit strict with his music on the show, he admits, and he’s more likely to dismiss someone or…roast them(?) than he is to outright simply play it. Etho doesn’t know where that term came from, and he really doesn’t care, but he hopes the people who listen more frequently know he doesn’t mean any harm by it. His filter is pretty lax when he’s running his segment, and people have shitty music taste, so. It’s not like he’s a music snob. He’ll play pop music as much as he will indulge in some obscure folk band, it all depends on the mood and volume of requests.

“Man, I don’t know what E even talks about when he’s waiting, I really gotta, I gotta listen to his show more.”

Etho snorts. He doesn’t talk at all when he’s waiting, mostly because he’s quick to resume the music, or he’ll make his listeners sit in uncomfortable silence until one calls. He has his fun! The radio show is never meant to be anything serious, and it only garners about ten listeners a night that stick through it regularly. Besides, here lately Etho hasn’t had the chance to force anyone to endure silence, because he’s had a few certain callers consistently ringing the line within half a minute.

“Oh! Oh, look at that, look at that, it’s a call. Man, I totally spoke that into existence, huh? I’m totally magificating this up… Alright, alright, let’s see, uh-huh, and now we go here. There we go! Welcome to Late Night Tunes, hosted by the T of TIES. Got any good recs for us?”

Tango is bright, excited, and eager to socialise⎯

Quite the different marker from how Etho normally interacts with a caller.

“Where’s E?” A demanding, brash voice comes through the other line, somehow managing to come off as impressively loud without hurting his ears. Etho’s used to that, though. Joel has a way of making his voice fill a space and yet not being too extreme with it. “Is he having us on for a laugh? By the way, E, the playlist’s sucked so far! Boring, boring, and, oh, I dunno, a bit more boring to spice it up.”

There’s no stopping the grin that spreads across Etho’s lips.

“Excuse me?”  

Oh no. Tango sounds flabbergasted, a harsh edge to his voice that says he’s gearing up for a fight. He wouldn’t know that this is part of the running… thing that Etho and Joel do every night he’s on because Tango doesn’t listen to the radio show at night, finding music too distracting while he’s studying or working on a project. The few times he’s tuned in, it’s always towards the later end, at least from what Etho has been told.

“I said, where’s E?” Joel repeats, voice dripping with snide sarcasm. “E, can your buddy actually not hear or is this just part of the bit to frustrate me? And what’s with the theme for tonight, man, it sounds rubbish. Why’ve you gone all sad and gloomy? Don’t tell me you’re in one of your moods.”

Etho rolls his eyes.

He goes through a mildly depressing moment and his song choices reflect that one time, and look what it does to his reputation. Joel never lets him forget it, either. Lizzie’s a bit more kind in that regard, though she judges his music taste with unerring accuracy rather than just a general statement of ‘it all sucks’, so there are pros and cons. He doesn’t really know why this whole thing has started, why Lizzie and Joel seem to make it their hobby to bother him at least once per show, but Etho can’t deny that he enjoys it most of the time. It’s fun, talking to them, and it doesn’t come with the unneeded anxiety of seeing them in-person. ‘E’ can be a bit more charismatic and… flirty than Etho himself is.

“Look, man, I don’t know who you are, or what kinda game you’re playing at, but I’mma need you to back off,” Tango says, sounding irritated. Etho winces, smile long since faded, and hopes that this doesn’t go too badly. Tango has a temper, but so does Joel, and he’s not keen on seeing where that leads. “So unless you’ve got some actual music for me to play, I’m ending the c⎯”

“Wait!” Lizzie’s exclamation is a bit breathless, like she’s just run to the phone, and distinctly different from Joel’s in terms of pitch and bubbliness. “Um, uh⎯ No, Joel, shut up, oh my gosh. Play…play Hot To Go! by Chappell Roan. Is, hang on a minute, is E really not there, though?”

“I didn’t realise E had so many dutiful fans,” Tango drawls, amused. Etho feels his skin flush, heat whispering across his cheeks. “E is, if ya gotta know, he’s out sick. Sore throat, coughing, the works. He’ll be back by Thursday, hopefully.”

“Yeah, I better blummin’ hope so, otherwise we’re stuck with you.”

“Joel!” Lizzie exclaims, sounding exasperated, and then there’s some muffled chatter as she presumably scolds her boyfriend. He’s noticed that they do that a lot, whenever Joel says something a bit too forward or aggressive. “Anyway! That one’s for E, if he’s listening. Have a good night, Ta⎯ T!”

“You’re dedicating this song to E?” Tango sounds incredulous.

Joel huffs from over the line. “And what about it? All of our songs are dedicated to E!”

Etho wonders what sort of cheesy song they’ve decided on tonight. It’s the joke that they do, two sleep-deprived college kids fucking around and making him play the sappiest love songs in existence and insisting that they’re dedicated to him. In the beginning, it had hurt a little, because Etho felt like he was being made fun of, but now he’s at the point where it actually makes his heart skip a beat. He knows that Lizzie and Joel would never truly be malicious or cruel like that, and he thinks that they view it sort of as a running gag, a way to mess around with their friend and have a good time. Etho is more than happy to be part of the joke⎯ He’s gone mildly helpless, having all their attention. He’d rather not lose it.

“Alright, well, there goes our first callers of the night!” Tango declares loudly, bouncing back to his usual peppy radio show persona. “Let’s play Hot To Go by Chappell Roan…dedicated to E, and all our people with crushes hanging out tonight.”

Etho bops his head as the beat starts, surprisingly already enjoying the tone of the song. He doesn’t tend to listen to pop music on the regular, though it is what Lizzie and Joel request most frequently. So far, most of what they’ve picked has ranged from tolerable to genuinely enjoyable, and this is leaning towards the latter category. A smile tugs at his lips as he hums along with the song, paying only half a mind to the lyrics. It doesn’t matter what they are⎯ It’s not like Lizzie and Joel actually mean what this song is spelling out.

Quite literally, in this case.

A few more songs go by, staying in the same vein of poppy music. Tango clearly isn’t keen on retrying the whole call thing after the disaster that greeted him the first time, which makes Etho want to laugh. His ribs hurt too much for that, though, his breaths wheezing slightly when he inhales and exhales. He aches all over and desperately wishes he had his heating pad, but he’d given that up to Skizz the last time his cramps got excruciatingly bad. They should’ve been by with his soup already…

Like he’s summoned them, there’s a knock against the door, and Etho grins.

“Come in,” He says, voice scratchy. He grabs the bag of cough drops from off of his bedside table and settles them next to him on the bed instead, popping another one into his mouth. “It took you lo⎯”

Etho stares, startled, at the two people awkwardly crowding in his doorway. They are most definitely not Skizz and Impulse, who he’d expected to show up with hasty apologies and a bowl full of steaming soup. Shockingly enough, there still is soup in a Tupperware container, but the ones in his doorway have bright pink hair and brown with a green streak respectively. They share a glance before looking back at Etho, Joel’s hands white-knuckled on the container he carries and Lizzie’s held behind her back nervously.

“You are. Not who I was expecting,” Etho says stiltedly.

“Of course not!” Lizzie exclaims, while Joel looks a little bit like he would rather sink into the ground than say anything. Belatedly, Etho realises that he doesn’t have his mask on, having discarded it so he could cough freely. “Um, well, y’see, we just…we just wanted to drop off the soup! You’re sick, so you need chicken noodle soup, it’s a requirement! Do you mind if, erm, if we come in and set it up, Etho?”

“Why are you here?” Etho asks, wide-eyed.

“Weren’t you listenin’, you blummin’ idiot!? We’re here to give you soup, help nurse you back to health, God. Tango slipped your dorm number to Jim, and well, y’know, he isn’t good under duress, so.” Joel’s smile is a sharp, curved little thing, proud and smug. Etho finds himself blindsided by the desire to kiss him.

“Oh,” He says, for lack of anything else. “Um.”

“We can put it here and go, E, don’t worry,” Lizzie says comfortingly, nudging Joel in the side and glancing pointedly at the bedside table. He places the soup down with stiff, jerky movements, looking for all the world like he’d rather stand there and hold it for eternity. Etho softens slightly when he realises that Joel simply doesn’t want to leave. And, to be honest, he doesn’t really want them to leave, either. “We just really want you to get better soon, ‘cause the show isn’t the same without you.”

Lizzie pouts, making Etho snort.

“I heard,” He admits in a rasp. Joel turns a stunning shade of crimson.

“You were listenin’ in?”

“Of course,” Etho says with a shrug. “I wasn’t gonna miss it.”

Lizzie giggles. “Did you like the song? Isn’t it so cute? Scott recommended it to me the other day, and I thought it was perfect for us! Well, plus I just wanted to force you to play some more pop music instead of your boring old rock tunes.”

“It was very nice,” Etho admits. “D’ya want to sit down? We can share the soup.”

“Yeah?” Joel asks dubiously, training those pretty brown eyes on him. He gives a short nod, shuffling over in the bed. He moves so he’s leaning against the wall, space on either side of him, and offers a tiny smile. “...You really liked the song, then? Damn, I thought for sure it woulda been one of those oldies that got you, the cheesy sappy ones. Can’t believe it was blummin’ Chappell Roan.”

“What do you mean, got me?” Etho wonders softly as Lizzie climbs onto the bed, bringing out a small stuffed fox from behind her back. She places it in Etho’s hands with a bright, beaming smile, eyes crinkled at the corners, and Etho’s heart feels like it runs double-time. He wants very much to kiss her, and then he reminds himself that these two are dating each other.

“Y’know, got you to like us back,” Lizzie answers as Joel precariously moves to sit on Etho’s left, taking the soup with him. Etho stiffens in confusion, Lizzie’s comforting scent of cherry blossoms and something warm and baked swirling around in the air. She’s so close he can feel the heat radiating from her body, which does nothing to take away from his daze. “E?”

“Like you back?” He repeats finally, hoarse, as his gaze darts from Lizzie to Joel.

“Uh, yeah, duh. What, didja think we’d been flirting all six months for the hell of it?” Joel asks scathingly with a roll of his eyes. The humour on his face fades the longer he looks at Etho, who simply stares back. “You actually did? Etho! Etho! We’ve been, oh my God, we’ve been recommending songs for ages trying to flirt with you, and you didn’t listen to a single bloody one!?”

“Be nice, Joel,” Lizzie exclaims. “He’s sick, c’mon! Let’s get you settled, E, and then we’ll leave.”

“Why would you leave?” He sounds a bit too plaintive, and he might be pouting, but he can’t help it. He finally has them right where he wants them, and now they want to leave! It’s not fair. Plus, he did actually want to share the soup with them. “I do⎯ Uh, I do like you. I didn’t… I thought it was a joke?”

“A joke?” Joel repeats. “A joke. A joke where we’ve been telling you to play love songs for six months…and always dedicated them to you…and flirted with you on the rare occasions we had class together, too. That was a joke?”

Etho splutters, throwing his hands into the air. “I don’t know! I don’t know, I thought it was, like, a funny bit or something, I thought you guys were playing around! I had no idea you actually…”

He flushes.

Lizzie makes some sort of cooing noise, which of course only increases the severity of his blush.

“Aww, you get all pink! You’re so cute, Etho!”

“Thanks,” Etho says dryly, feeling an urge to cover his face. Lizzie beams at him, and the feeling lessens, because she’s so happy to see him that it’d feel mean to hide his face now. 

Before he can say anything else, a loud growl from his stomach disrupts the silence. Joel and Lizzie laugh in unison, chuckles twining around each other in the air, and Etho’s heart skips a beat once more. He feels dizzy, almost, with how close he is to the two people he likes. And they like him back. The two he’s spent most of the year noticing because they’re so magnetic, cheerful, social, loud, happy⎯ They want him, renowned for being an antisocial weirdo who hides his face behind a mask more often than not.

“Let’s get some soup in ya, eh? You like chicken noodle, don’t you?” Joel asks, popping the lid off of the soup. He rummages around in his pockets for a second, eventually pulling out a couple of metal spoons. “Gonna be honest, mate, dunno how well this is gonna work out if you don’t like chicken noodle soup.”

Etho laughs, the sound ragged. “I like it.”

“That’s good,” Lizzie says cheerfully. “We weren’t joking, in case it wasn’t clear by now. We really like you, Etho, and⎯ well, if, uh, if you’re okay with it, we’d wanna take you on a date after you get better!”

“That sounds,” A coughing fit takes him by surprise and he covers his mouth with his hands, hacking up half a lung. Not literally, of course, but he feels winded by the time it subsides. Lizzie has a hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles in the way Tango did earlier, all soft and gentle and careful. “Sounds good. I’d love to, when I’m not almost suffocating.”

Joel snorts. “Talk about stealing your breath, just wait til I kiss you the first time. That’ll really show ya.”

“You’re such a braggart,” Lizzie complains. “But. Well. He isn’t lying.”

“Oh?” Etho grins. “Something to look forward to.”

“Heh,” Joel grins, a dusting of red spread across his cheeks. “Yeah, now, c’mon, let’s get something in your belly, yeah? Don’t worry, Lizzie made the soup, so it isn’t gonna poison ya or anything. Open up.”

“I can⎯ Joel,” Etho says, halfway to laughing. “I can feed myself.”

“So?” Joel’s got that familiar stubborn glint to his eyes, enticing and gorgeous in all the right ways. He’s holding the spoon up, waiting for Etho to take a bite. “I’m gonna do it, ‘cause you’re all gross and ill and someone’s gotta take care of you.”

“Just let him,” Lizzie says fondly. “He’s not going to back down. E, can I kiss you? Not on the lips, obviously, but just on the cheek, maybe?”

“Y-Yeah, um, yeah, God. Sure.”

“Look at him, redder than a tomato!” Joel crows, and Etho rolls his eyes, ready to snap back with something surely incredibly witty, when all thoughts promptly fade out as soft lips brush against his temple. Lizzie’s lips are sticky with some kind of lip gloss, and she smells like cherry blossoms even more up close, and Etho doesn’t remember how to do anything but breathe, very shakily at that. “Aww, how cute. Now, c’mon, Liz, back up, get some room goin’ on so he can eat.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t tell me what to do,” Lizzie replies, wrapping her arm between Etho’s and holding his hand. The touch sends new butterflies rolling in his stomach, and he clings to her fingers even though he’s pretty sure his palms are very sweaty. “There we go.”

“Open up,” Joel mutters. Etho scrunches his nose but obliges, allowing Joel to feed him the chicken noodle soup. It’s still very warm and shockingly good, plenty of spices mixing with the natural seasoning of the chicken. “Good, innit? Lizzie’s great at cooking. Bit of a baker myself, I’ll have to bring ya some of my bread sometime, it’s delicious, thank you very much.”

Etho hums. “Very good. Thanks, guys, for coming to see me.”

“Of course!” Lizzie says cheerfully, kissing his temple again, like she just can’t help herself. Etho’s heart stutters in a cage of bone. “We couldn’t leave you alone, hurting, sick without us doing something to help. You just focus on resting up so we can get to the date and kisses we promised.”

“Alright, alright.” Etho squeezes her hand, earning another one of those beautiful Lizzie smiles that seem to make the whole world light up. Joel feeds him another bite of the soup, thigh pressing against Etho’s. He feels warm from the inside out, and he’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with the chicken noodle soup settling in his stomach.

“Besides, how could we pass up a chance to bother you? Gotta get our regular Etho-bothering in, you know this.” Joel snickers with his words, and Etho grins widely. He doesn’t feel self-conscious about his smile in the least, not like how he normally does around people without his mask. 

“True! It’s part of the routine now, part of the routine,” Lizzie says with a nod, tilting her head and laying against Etho’s shoulder. The touch borders on too much in a positive way, sparks lacing his skin, but he stays still until the sensation eases and it’s only Lizzie against him.

“I’m glad,” Etho admits, soft. “I’m glad it’s part of the routine.”

“Me too,” Joel says unceremoniously.

“Yeah,” Lizzie agrees, grinning. “Let’s make it a permanent one, eh?”

Later, after many conversations full of laughter and a whole container of soup gone, Etho will fall asleep against Joel’s shoulder with Lizzie’s head in his lap. Eventually, Joel will succumb to sleep, too, and Skizz and Impulse will finally arrive to check up on the E member of TIES. Instead of finding Etho alone, sick and miserably watching Youtube, they’ll see an adorable, awkward little cuddle pile, limbs splayed akimbo and Tupperware tossed onto the floor.

A soft, happy ending, in every sense of the word.

⎯end.