Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Yeah!” Chatterbox exclaims, “That’s my boy!”

Twinkles looks at him with curious eyes, flicking them back and forth between the king and queen.

“Goddamnit!”

Ray stomps her foot and clenches her fists in frustration. A confident smirk plays on Chatterbox’s lips, enjoying her tantalizing outburst. She’s so yuckin’ cute when she’s angry. The pair bicker frequently in love-soaked spats of passion and annoyance. Every sleepless night spent with tangled limbs and hot breaths stemmed from a fight about some insignificant problem or other. Real fights leave them both too emotionally destroyed to function and usually get resolved before the sun sets. This feels somewhere in between. Her eyes shine like mercury, burning holes through him.

“You CHEATED,” she whines.

Chatterbox can’t stifle the chuckle that shakes his chest. Air blows through his nose like that of a raging bull.

“Nuh uh. Twinkles just didn’t want me to get hurt. You yucked up.”

“Twinkles is confused.”

She huffs, throwing a long raven braid over her shoulder. Chatterbox pats a gentle reassurance on his buddy’s shoulder. Twinkles still stands between the chaotic pair, hell-bent on preventing the gun tapping against Ray’s tan thigh from causing any further damage than the hole in the wall. 

“Sorry Twinkles, we made a bet to see who you’d choose.”

“Choose?”

“Ya. And apparently Chatty is your favorite.”

“I told you Twinkles and I are boys. Ride or dies.”

“Twinkles loves both of you.”

“But you chose him right NOW.”

Her foot taps impatiently. Chatterbox loves that about her–the urgency with which she experiences life. Every moment a new challenge to enjoy and overcome. He’s like that too when she’s not around. Ray sighs and clicks the safety back on her pistol, tucking it into her mini skirt’s waistband. A perfect encapsulation of her danger and beauty.

“I’m just disappointed, Twinkles.”

Twinkles looks at him sheepishly and all Chatterbox can offer is a shrug. She’ll get over it. 

“You know what that means, Cups.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolls her eyes. “Yes to Chatty Day.”

Chatterbox’s demeanor shifts to one of pure mischief, rubbing his gloved hands together like a cartoonish villain. He’s been a real villain in a lot of people’s stories. The cannibalistic clown that haunts the dark alleyways, a high-pitched laugh on the other end of an unknown number that sends shivers down his victim’s spines. Being the hero in hers made him uncomfortable at first, but then it became a badge of honor. The more Chatterbox learns about the vixen of Los Santos, the more being her safe place becomes a point of pride. Safety for them looks different though, never an indication of physical status. They’re clowns, after all. The hospital acts as a second home, the nurses and doctors more than acquaintances. 

“You’re so yucked.”

His smile bleeds into his voice as the trio exits the Paleto house, the warm salty air of the ocean whipping around them. Soft curls escape Ray’s braids, fluttering around her face like silken ribbons. She pulls on her signature bunny mask to hide an amused grin threatening to spread across her face. Yeah, I knew you couldn’t stay mad. Chatterbox opens the passenger door to his Club. A soft touch of gratitude on his shoulder as she sinks onto the worn seat lets him know he’ll be in a new kind of danger later. 

“We’ll see what you come up with. There’s no way you’ll be able to beat Yups to Cups.”

A dark chuckle. 

“Wanna bet? You’ve already lost once.”

“I’ll take that risk,” Ray giggles. 

Chatterbox shuts her door with a shake of his head. She’s got a point though. Chatterbox vividly remembers the day of pure yuckery. She’d planned everything so meticulously for days in advance. Chatterbox contemplates whether he’d be able to be as organized. Probably not, let’s be yuckin’ real. All of her activities involved their family and friends in the chaos, something he loved about her. She cares so much for the people around her. Ray’s a constant glowing beacon of dedication and perseverance. And he’s a moth drawn to her flame. Sure, it means he gets burnt sometimes, but he’ll gladly be consumed by her inferno. Her kisses and longing glances make the fires of hell seem inviting. Twinkles flies past them on the highway, honking erratically. It shocks Chatterbox out of his memory-fueled daze. He gives the steering wheel a gentle squeeze as if to refocus himself on the road stretching ahead of them. 

“So…uh…you got any specific requests, anything you’ve been wanting to do?”

“Oh no, Mr. Box. You’re not getting any help outta me.”

Yuck. Worth a shot. Chatterbox drums his thumbs along to the beat of the music. She hums along absentmindedly, picking at some stray skin along her fingernails. Ray kicks her feet up on the dash, dark burgundy combat boots rocking in time to the music. He takes a sneaking glimpse at the toned legs stretched before her.

“I saw that, scumbag.”

Ray playfully punches his shoulder with a soft thud of her fist. He rubs the sight of impact, a crimson flush on his cheeks thankfully hidden by his mask. 

“Owwww, yuck.”

“I didn’t even hit ya that hard.”

“I’m not allowed to admire my queen no more?” he teases. 

“Mmm, I guess it’s okay.”

“So whatcha hit me for then?”

Her head turns away, focus shifting to the world passing by outside the window.

“I dunno,” she whispers, barely audible over the growl of the engine.

“You okay, Cups?”

Chatterbox’s brows furrow with concern as the energy in the car switches to something more pensive and hesitant. He’s a real dumbyuck. He knows that. Bobo taught him the best he could, but there’s only so much a cannibal can teach a young clown. But if there’s one thing Chatterbox mastered at the hands of a volatile guardian, it’s how to read body language. He’d picked up quickly how to gauge the energy in the room, ducking and weaving through Bobo’s moods like a boxer in the ring. Failure meant long days and nights in a cage. Failure meant being left alone to fight his demons hiding in the shadows cast by the bright lights shining into the cage. Failure wasn’t an option. When Chatterbox talked to Ray about it, she seemed so worried. Like he might be fragile. But he frequently finds himself sending Bobo “thank you’s” into the ether, grateful for the useful tool to figure out the complex creature beside him. 

“I’m fine.”

The soft murmur gives Chatterbox little confidence. Okay, so not fine. He pulls the car over to the side of the road. The dust from the desert around them floats around the car, suspending them in a red cloud. Ray plays with the hem of her skirt as she squeezes her eyes closed.

“Please don’t.”

It’s too late though. Chatterbox already dug through every second of the day, every facial expression, every movement, every change in tone. He reads her like his favorite book, searching through the snapshots in his mind. 

“Cups…you really upset about Twinkles?”

Ray crosses her arms over her chest into a self-soothing hug.

“No…I…”

“Then what…”

“Okay so maybe I’m a little mad. It’s not even a big deal like…I know you guys are besties or whatever but like…I just want to be people’s number one, mkay?”

“You’re my number one, Cups. Why do you gotta be his too? Am I not doing enough?”

Chatterbox flinches as he says it, the sting of her possible response already lashing at his heart. 

“I’m not saying that,” she whimpers earnestly.

Desperate for the need to touch her, to bring her back from the spiral, he reaches over to trail a finger across the skin of her bicep. The hairs on her arm bristle at the faint caress as if electricity buzzes through the two of them. Ray’s fingers loosen their grip on her arms, emerging from within herself. 

“I just…am I really your number one? What about Kirk or Tessa?”

“Cups?”

Ashen eyes meet the golden browns illuminated by the falling sun. Chatterbox brushes his thumb against the cheek of her bunny mask, a comfort she can’t feel but understands all the same. 

“You’re my one and only. Until Death rips me from the land of the living and maybe even after. I love Kirk and Tessa. But you’re my number one for as long as you’ll let me love you.”

Ray’s mask shifts as she chews on the inside of her lip. He holds her gaze, a desperate look like that of a man starved for understanding. Please hear me. Sometimes her thoughts echo louder than his words, making it impossible to break through to her. Please.

“Mmmm…‘kay…if you say so,” she resigns.

Thank yuck. Chatterbox puts the car back in drive, yanking the wheel to merge wildly back into traffic.

“I do yuckin’ say so.”

Ray gasps and grabs his forearm.

“Chatty. Drive better.”

A hint of a smile floats in her tone, easing the remaining tension in the car.

“I don’t got a driver’s license.”

. . .

The burning orange sun flashes in the rearview mirror as Chatterbox backs out of the Gworl’s house driveway. Ray waves before disappearing behind the cheap wood of the Southside home’s front door. Bullet holes decorate the concrete of the fence, no doubt a byproduct of the recent beef between the Manor and the Besties. Chatterbox grumbles to himself about the safety of the home, still unsure why she likes to sleep here. Probably just to protect Max. She’s tough. Raised by the strongest gang in the city, Ray knows how to keep her head down and when to act. She’s different from any other gangbanger he’s ever met though. Vivid, unique, and one hell of a clown, Ray stands out against everyone else in this wretched city. That’s why I gotta make this a day to remember. Chatterbox reaches for his phone and narrowly misses a light pole. 

“Kirk! Hey buddy, I need your help.”

“What’s up, bub? Get into a sticky situation with the cops again?”

“Worse, I think.”

“The fuck did you do this time?”

“Uh…well…I need help with Cups.”

Kirk lets out an enthusiastic giggle.

“Now that sounds like fun. You in looooove trouble?”

“I wouldn’t say trouble,” Chatterbox scoffs, “Just…you know I’m no good with planning stuff.”

“You…planning somethin’? That’s like asking a dolphin to run a marathon.”

“I know, Kirk. Please help.”

Chatterbox misses a car by an inch, weaving in and out of traffic on his way to the Funhouse. Honks blare through the air as if scolding him for his recklessness. 

“You’re gonna owe me big time, bitch.”

“Okay, sure. Can you call Sooty and meet me at the Funhouse in fifteen?”

“We’ll be in there like swimwear, buddy.”

Chatterbox sighs heavily as the call ends, a building knot in his chest at the prospect of failing his queen. The sight of the Funhouse looming before him as he drives up to his fortress gives him some respite. The windows wink at him as the light flickers from within, a familiar friend. Chatterbox runs his hand along the worn wood of the porch railing as he walks toward the front door. Crickets and frogs sing a comforting tune as dusk settles on the farmland, the rumble of the local farmers leaving for the night echoing off the mountain. Grapeseed’s rolling hills settle into a sleepy daze as the oranges in the evening sky fade to a midnight blue. 

The house creaks as he enters, a soft welcome. Hi, house. Chatterbox makes his way into the dining room, pacing circles around the messy table. I gotta make it memorable. Something she’ll never forget. Something that’ll never make her doubt my love for her. His hand slips into the pocket of his burgundy slacks. The clack of the dice captures his attention. Removing them from the folds of his wrinkled plants, Chatterbox jostles the worn black and red dice around in his palm. His head snaps up as the crunch of the gravel outside announces Sooty and Kirk’s arrival. The pair finally seemed to be on better terms, even if only for the sake of maintaining cohesion in the clowns.  

“Hiya, Chatty,” Sooty chirps in her usual sing-song tone.

“Hey, Sooty. Hey, Kirk. Thank you guys for coming so late.”

“I was up at the farm anyway,” she smiles.

“You work too much,” Kirk shakes his head.

“Yeah, but you guys like eating don’tcha?”

Kirk nods enthusiastically as Sooty hands the boys two sub sandwiches fresh from Funhouse Foods. He digs in, crumbs falling through the cracks of the old wooden floorboards. Chatterbox discards his sandwich on the table. Kirk takes advantage of his disinterest, chowing down on his too. Sooty frowns. 

“Not hungry, Chatty?”

“Who cares,” Kirk muses, “More for me,” muffled by the remnants stuffed in his mouth.

“I’m fine, Sooty. I just want this to be awesome.”

“That’s understandable. Yups to Cups was yuckin’ fun.”

“I wanna beat that but my way. She’s going to yuckin’ jail.”

“Jail date,” Sooty smiles.

“Hopefully.”

“Her plot armor is crazy,” Kirk adds.

Chatterbox nods, continuing to fidget with his dice. 

“Why don’t you just steal the wheel bullshit she did?”

“It wasn’t bullyuck, Kirk. And I don’t wanna just do the same thing.”

“He wants to be romantic, Janky.”

“Sheila doesn’t care about that dumb shit.”

“Sure. That’s why you guys are always yuckin’ cheating.”

Chatterbox dodges Kirk’s wild swing of his fist. 

“What about the Bingo? Did you guys ever finish that?” Sooty suggests.

“I could do that. I guess…”

“Why are you fuckin’ with those dice?”

He looks down at the red and black plastic shifting around in his hand.

“Actually…” Chatterbox struts over to the kitchen drawer where all of the junk seems to accumulate. 

Rummaging around, he reveals a small crimson notebook, crinkled from being stuffed into his pockets one too many times. Chatterbox rips out the used pages with random scribblings of plans to yuck over the clowns or CG over the years. He crumbles them and throws them haphazardly at Kirk. 

“A pen…a pen,” he mutters to himself.

“Pen,” Sooty tosses him a pen that she keeps tucked into her boot.

The pen bounces off his head. 

“Ow.”

Chatterbox grabs the pen and writes the numbers 1 through 6 in two columns. He begins scribbling down a series of words and phrases in both columns.

Column 1:

Column 2:

Sooty peeks over his shoulder while Kirk digs through the fridge. 

“Roll the dice for the activity?” Sooty smiles.

“My queen does have the luck of the die on her side.”

“How many times she won clown risk now?” Kirk mumbles, cheeks full of leftovers.

“Three cuz she’s yuckin’ awesome.”

Chatterbox clicks the pen closed as if to punctuate the sentence. Kirk moves over to check out the list. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of his name. 

“She better hope she don’t gotta rob me. I’ll go down fighting like a coon fightin’ a tomcat for the last burger at the bottom of a dumpster.”

“No you yuckin’ won’t, Kirk. If ya hurt her I’m gonna have to kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try bucko,” Kirk chuckles.

Sooty shakes her head, “Alright boys put yer peppas away.”

The paper crinkles as Chatterbox rips it out and folds it up. He makes another copy to keep in the book. 

“Could you make me a lil’ photo thingy, Sooty? So that I can text it to her to look at?” 

Sooty’s eyes light up.

“I’d love to! Is there anything else you want help with?”

The relationship between Sooty and Kirk may still be sorta strained, but Chatterbox can’t help but soften toward her recently. She notices everything, always helping out the best she can. And she looks out for Cups. Which is the most important thing.  

“Would you be able to get invites ready just in case she rolls the hide and seek? I think we should have it somewhere cool with lots of hiding spots.”

“The Fun Factory? Or the Playground?” Kirk suggests.

“Ooo the Fun Factory for sure.”

“I’ll get something really cute put together, Chatty,” Sooty assures.

“Thanks, Sooty. You know I’m no good with that stuff.”

“What are you good at?” Kirk snickers.

“Yuck stuff mostly,” Chatterbox shrugs.

“I’ll wiggle my finger to that.”

Sooty’s infectious giggle lilts through the air of the old house as the trio make their way back out to the porch. A small white moth flutters around the dim yellow light of the lantern by the front door. Chatterbox watches it for a moment. He thinks of Ray’s light, of her ethereal glow that draws him to her. Like the moth he flits around her, desperate for her warmth. Perhaps every scathing remark, every hit of the wrench, every wicked smile is a red-hot ember kissing his skin. But to be burned by her is to be loved by her. Wasn’t I thinking about this earlier? He blinks out of his self-imposed daze. Sooty and Kirk exchange a knowing glance. 

“You like that lantern, bub?”

“I…sorry. I think I’m just tired and worried about…I just wanna make her happy.”

“I know for a fact you make her happy, Chatty,” Sooty soothes.

“I yuckin’ hope so.”

Chatterbox waves as Kirk and Sooty drive away into the darkness of Grapeseed nights, the absence of street lights making every turn an adventure. He retreats into his stronghold, climbing the aching wooden stairs to his childhood bedroom. Chatterbox removes his mask and smoothes a hand over his hair, tousled from the long day. A heavy sigh escapes his lips. Suck it up, Chatterbox. They’re her family. The icy glow of his phone illuminates the memories carved into his face. A few rings before a warm voice greets him.

“The numba one stallion, how ya doin’?” Taco chimes.

“Taco, Taco, Taco. I’m doing something special for your sister. You think you could help me out?”

“Sounds fun. Whaddya have in mind?”

“As much as I hate you yuckbags, you’re her family too. I’m planning a couple of games you sacks of yuck could be involved in. Could you make sure there’s some of you available tomorrow for the games if she rolls for them? It would make her really happy, I think.”

“Games? Count us in, you yucker.”

“Thanks, Taco. I’ll let you know when to gather everybody.”

“Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

Chatterbox fights the smile tugging at the edges of his lips as he ends the call. CG may be a lifelong enemy, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy their banter. I might even like some of those yuckbags. Ray shows him a whole new side to the group. Rather than a bunch of ruthless gangbangers, some of them could go so far as to fit in with the clowns. They just care a little too much about the money. Chatterbox closes the balcony door before tossing his phone on the bed. 

Steam blooms in the bathroom as he runs a hot bath, creating flowers of mist against the cooler night air. He lathers soap over his sore body, air hissing through his teeth as he finds cuts he didn’t know existed. The life of a clown. The buzz of his phone on the bed falls on deaf ears, too consumed in his thoughts about how to best set up the next day. Yuck, am I bad at planning. Chatterbox chuckles to himself as he stands out of the water. It drains slowly, a small whirlpool of all the dirt and stress from the day. He grabs the plush red towel Ray convinced him to steal from the local home store. Never before did he think or consider what types of towels to get, always just grabbing the first one he saw. Ray changed all of that. Maybe the nicer things aren’t so bad sometimes. The soft material wicks away the moisture from his skin as he stands bare to the stars. Chatterbox examines his face in the broken mirror. His calloused hands rub his jaw, surveying the gruffness of his growing facial hair. Yuck it, I’ll just shave tomorrow morning. Wrapping his towel around his waist, he steps out into the bedroom to grab a pair of boxers for the night. 

Ray lays in the bed, typing away on his phone. The moon’s fairy light reflects off her tan skin, her midnight hair cascading down her shoulders in loose waves. A tiny white tank top covers her chest, and a pair of black pajama shorts with red cherries hugging her hips. Chatterbox’s breath catches in his throat.

“C…Cups?”

“Oh, hi!”

“Hi.”

“I texted you.”

“I…was in the bath.”

“I see that.”

Her eyes travel down his toned chest and abdomen to the towel held around his hips. He’s no bodybuilder, but the years of working on the farm and running from the cops keep him in good enough shape. Chatterbox suddenly becomes aware of his nakedness, a hot pink flush coloring his cheeks. He scratches the back of his neck. 

“Uh…”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

She bites her lip as she takes him in, eyes lingering on his arms as his muscles flex with each small movement. 

“Ye…yeah. You live here, Cups. This is your home too.”

Eyes sparkling, she puts the constellations to shame, an enigma of beauty and power. Power over me.

“M’kay.”

Chatterbox shifts his weight anxiously.

“I’m just gonna…”

“Please. You’re entirely distracting.”

“Distracting you from what exactly?” Chatterbox snickers.

He walks to the dresser, pulling out a pair of black boxers with red hearts to match her shorts. Another one of her thieving finds. 

“Breathing properly mostly,” Ray giggles. 

“Well, I can’t have that. You told me dying is illegal.”

Chatterbox pulls on the boxers before removing the towel, ruffling his hair to get out the remaining water. A sultry smile creeps across her face.

“Guess you’ll just have to put me in handcuffs then.”

“Cupssss,” Chatterbox shakes his head in amusement as he walks over to her.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a freak.”

“You’re my freak.”

He puts a knuckle under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. Ray meets his gaze willingly as she puts aside his phone. Chatterbox admires her face, noticing as her eyes dart back to the phone. 

“What were you doin’ on my phone?”

Mischief brews behind a sweet smile, an attempt at masking the glee bubbling up in her.

“Just…nothin’.”

“Nothing? You lyin’ to me, Cups?”

Chatterbox’s chestnut eyes darken like a predator measuring its prey before the kill. His thumb strokes her chin. The consuming desire to taste her builds in his gut, her soft peach lips parting in anticipation of him. Chatterbox leans in but denies them both the satisfaction. 

“I don’t like lyin’.”

“O…Okay…so maybe I did a little something.”

Ray tries to lean into the kiss. Chatterbox backs away just enough to prevent their touch. A meek whine floats through the air.

“What did you do?” his voice rumbles in his throat.

“Sent some texts.”

No longer able to hide her smile, Ray titters with excitement at her ploy.

“Lemme see.”

She offers up his phone, texts still on the screen. He reads through her stirs, laughing whole-heartedly at the mess she’s getting him into with several of the clowns and CG. Chatterbox tosses his phone back on the bed before taking her angelic face in his hands.

“You are trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” she whispers.

“The best kind.”

Their lips crash together in a series of hungry kisses that leave their breaths coming in short gasps. No longer interested in any oxygen than what’s in her lungs, Chatterbox wraps Ray up in a tight embrace. Ray scoots back on the bed, pulling him with her. They sink into shared ecstasy in the cool air from the drafty room. Like two puzzle pieces, their bodies and souls mold together in divinely designed perfection. 

Hot touches give way to gentle caresses as moans give way to shuddering sighs. Ray’s head rests on Chatterbox’s chest, rising and falling with his deepened breaths. Sleep beckons them both into euphoria-laced dreams. Chatterbox waits until her eyes flutter closed, soothed by his finger tracing feather-light hearts on the small of her back. Then he closes his eyes. Behind the darkness of his eyelids, he imagines the tantalizing possibilities of tomorrow. Dreams of her addictive laughter drown him in bliss matched only by the sound of her saying his name. And what he’d give to hear both forever.

Chapter Text

Ray stretches out her lean limbs, the sheets shifting down her thin frame. The cold morning air nips at her skin, biting kisses that taunt her awake. She hums softly as the soft sun bathes her in dull light. Hands groggily search the bed next to her, disappointed at the absence of his warmth. 

The alluring smell of coffee and toast wafts into the bedroom with a tickling breeze. 

“Chatty?”

She rubs the sleep from her eyes, stumbling her way into the bathroom. On the edge of the tub sits a bottle of bubble bath, a warm towel, and a note.

Good morning, my queen. Any long day should start with something sweet. Come downstairs when you’re done. King’s orders.

Gratefulness spreads a silly grin across her face, one Ray tries unsuccessfully to stifle. The steaming water from the bath soothes the goosebumps peppering her skin. She sinks into the sweet-scented bubbles, groaning with relief. Fuck, I needed this actually.  Her eyes flutter closed. The water grows cold and her fingers pruny as the minutes slip away. Finally giving in to the cold, Ray stands and wraps herself in the fluffy black towel. She takes the time to finish her skincare routine. Vanilla-scented lotion soaks into her tan skin, leaving her a decadent treat. The towel falls to the bathroom floor. Instead of getting dressed, she slips on his dress shirt hanging in the back of the door and a pair of black lace underwear to match her raven hair falling down her shoulders. Just because I gotta do whatever he says doesn’t mean I have to make it easy for him. She saunters down the stairs to the kitchen. 

“Good mornin’, Cu-”

Ray smiles slyly, batting her eyelashes as he takes her in.

“Hiya, Chatty! Breakfast smells good.”

He clears his throat and pulls nervously on his ear. They’d just lay together naked last night, but every time he sees her he still reacts like it’s the first time. It’s adorable . A hot pink flush colors his cheeks.

“Uh…yeah…”

Chatterbox hands her a hot cup of coffee. She takes a sip and practically melts.

“You remembered my sugar?”

“Two spoons because you’re twice as sweet,” he boasts. 

Her giggle lightens the room.

“Ya.”

Ray leans over the kitchen table, eyeing the golden-brown bread stacked on a plate.

“Cinnamon sugar toast.”

“You are a genius.”

His hand rests on the small of her back as she digs in, moaning happily as the sweet bread dissolves in her mouth. 

“God, this is perfect.”

Chatterbox sweeps her hair away from her neck. His touch sends electricity down her spine. 

“Just like you,” he whispers.

The hot air from his breath brushes against her ear as he nibbles at her earlobe. His stubble from the day before scratches the delicate skin.

“Oh no you don’t,” she pushes back against him.

He anticipates the fight, a hand snaking to her throat. 

“I can’t have something sweet for breakfast too?”

Voice gravely from sleep, Chatty knows her weaknesses. His other hand travels up her thigh and lingers on the intricate lace on her hip. She lets out an incessant whine as his thumb rubs across her jaw. Oh, you motherfu—. And then his warm hands are gone, leaving her leaning into nothingness. 

“Finish your breakfast, then come upstairs.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she grumbles.

“Today I can, Ray Mond,” he calls from the stairwell, “Today I can.”

Peach lips pressed into a pout, Ray fusses with her hair as she finishes her coffee. He can’t keep getting away with this bullshit. She grabs a final piece of toast for the road as she makes her way back to the bedroom. The door creaks as she enters. 

“Whaddya want?”

“You mostly,” Chatterbox cheekily replies from the bathroom.

“Okay, what else though?” she smiles as she checks her texts.

That answer never gets old. It’s one he’s given time and time again since the beginning of their relationship. But she keeps asking. They both pour into each other to replenish what everyone drains from them. Without her, he claims he’d have given up clown leadership a long time ago. But he led before her, and she’s sure he’d lead after. There better not be an after. Ray chews the inside of her lip. I’ll kill him . As if hearing her spiral, Chatterbox peeks around the corner.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, me.”

“C’mere.”

Ray follows the order happily, lured in by the smell of his shaving cream and the mischief in his voice. He’s rubbing the cream on his face as she enters and her gray eyes light up.

“Wait! Chatty!”

Chatterbox raises an eyebrow at her sudden chipper attitude. His hand rests with the razor on the edge of the sink.

“Yes, Cups?”

“Can I shave for you?”

“You wanna shave my face?”

“Ya!”

“You ever shaved someone’s face before?”

“Can’t be that hard.”

“Well, I’ll teach ya.”

Chatterbox hands her the razor and directs her close to him, a hand resting on her hip. It may be your day to boss me around, but you still can’t tell me no. She leans in as he bends forward so she’s not reaching up. He murmurs instructions, careful not to move too much. I got this. Ray absentmindedly sticks her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrates. She holds her breath with each stroke of the razor. It crosses her mind how easy it would be to kill someone this way. He better hope he never pisses me off. Satisfied with her handiwork, she nods confidently. 

“Okay, good I think.”

He surveys the now smooth skin in the cracked bathroom mirror before rinsing off the stray patches of shaving cream.

“Looks great, Cups. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Ray brags.

She puffs out her chest, hands perched on her hips. Chatterbox pokes at her exposed midriff and she breaks into giggles. 

“Stoooop.”

“The yuck you so proud of, huh? I thought you liked my stubble.”

“I do,” she pouts, “But I think I did a real good job for a first time.”

“You did. Now can I have my shirt?”

Ray spins in an exaggerated circle, arms floating over her head.

“This shirt?”

“That shirt,” he growls.

The single button holding the shirt closed over her chest is quick work under his skilled fingers. Fuck. Might have trained him too well. Chatterbox proves her point by using the shirt to pull her now bare skin against his own.

“It’s my turn to cause trouble, you know that?”

“Can’t make it too easy on you,” Ray nuzzles her nose against his. 

“What would be the fun in that?” he agrees.

She becomes like putty in his hands as her lips part to interlock with his. Chatty’s fingers weave through her wavy hair, cradling the back of her head. Like an artist, he leaves her thinking about every tender caress, finding meaning in each shallow breath. The maestro of her pleasure pulls away just before the crescendo. 

“We have chaos to orchestrate today, Cups.”

Ray groans at yet another tease.

“Can’t we cause chaos here?” she stomps her foot in defiance.

“C’mon.”

She follows him out of the bathroom as he slips on the dress shirt, buttoning it up to his neck. He’s already wearing his favorite pin-stripe slacks and his red vest rests on the bed. 

“You can’t look so good and expect me to just…”

Ray gasps as he turns around with her first corset in his hands. The vertical black and white stripes elongated her waist, directing lustful eyes to her bust. No fucking way. He points to the rest of her original clown fit on the bed. How did I not see that? A midnight black miniskirt that just barely covers what it needs to and a pair of red and white striped stockings lay opposite his vest. 

“Chatty! Where did you find this stuff? I thought I’d lost it!”

“I’m a god,” he shrugs, “And also Max found them for me. I wanted to keep it a surprise for a special occasion.”

“You’re a fucking genius! I mean…”

Chatterbox throws his head back with laughter, continuously amused with her feeble attempts to mask her potty mouth. Ray punches his shoulder.

“It’s not that funny.”

“It's pretty funny. And I told ya before you got the permanent swear pass.”

“Well…hmph.”

Ray pouts as Chatterbox tucks a stray curl behind her ear. It’s impossible to stay mad though as he beams with pride at his surprise. She dresses quickly, hopping on one leg as she pulls up her stockings. The ribbons on the corset give her trouble as she reaches desperately around her back to pull it tighter. 

“Need help, Cups?” Chatty raises an eyebrow as he closes the final button on his vest.

“Nooooo.”

She continues to fuss with it, huffing and puffing to put the big bad wolf to shame. Knowing she won’t ask for help, Chatterbox steps behind her and tightens the corset just right. He ties it off in a clumsy bow at her waist.

“Thank you,” she grumbles. 

“Any time,” he pats her hip.

Ray skips over to the dresser, parsing through her jewelry to decorate the iconic look. A black ribbon around her throat, silver rings dawn her knuckles for fashion and force, and butterfly clips to flutter through her woven hair. When she turns around to face the dapper clown, he’s leaning against the wall, eyes locked on her. 

“What? Do I look dumb? Is it too much? Should I change? Oh my god, I have to find something else to wear.”

“Cups.”

“No, you’re right. It’s not clown enough for the clown queen. GOD, why is looking good so hard ?”

“Cups.”

She’s pacing circles on the ragged rug next to the bed. Despite the years of wear and tear, she’s managed to burn a noticeable ring into the sturdy fibers with her frequent overthinking. Ray told Chatty just to throw it out, but he refused. Claims it’s a piece of her now in the home. 

“I could always just wear different boots,” she taps a finger against her chin as she contemplates the option.

“Cups.”

Voice dropping into a low and commanding tone, Ray blinks out of her self-indulgent spiral.

“Mm?”

His eyes are dark and focused, piercing through the fog of her worry like a honey-colored light. A nervous buzz in her gut leaves her feeling vulnerable like a mouse caught under the paw of a watchful cat. Ray tugs at her braids to redirect the anxious energy. 

“You look great.”

“Only great?” 

The cat steps closer, poised for the kill.

“You look beautiful.”

“Only beautiful?”

Her voice pulls upward into a playful squeak, fully aware of the buttons she’s pushing. In this cat-and-mouse game, the mouse always wins. Ray blinks in feigned innocence.

“You remember what I told you when I first saw you in this outfit, Cups?”

I’ll never forget.

“No.”

Chatterbox hovers over her, a looming and delicious threat. He’s always been that for her. A threat. At first she thought he might kill her. And he told her he’d intended to. Those terrifying phone calls sent shivers down her spine and made her feel alive for the first time in years. Fear gave way to tantalizing suspense when an unknown number popped up on her caller ID. Suddenly she looked forward to the sound of his fearsome laughter, a predictable part of her day amongst so much unknown. Then the threat shifted. Now the threat is the loss of him, the impending doom around every corner of his possible absence. 

“I told you ‘Now that’s a clown’ and I meant it.”

“You promise?” she squeaks.

Please never leave.

“Pinky promise.”

“That’s sacred, you know.”

They link pinkies, sealing his word with a quick kiss.

“I know.”

Ray gives him a twirl.

“I’m ready.”

“No, I don’t think you are,” he chuckles, tugging on his mask.

“Okay, there’s no way it could even be anything that bad,” she muses as she starts toward the stairs. 

Chatterbox follows behind, and Ray senses his eyes on the hem of her skirt that offers peeks at her curves as she sways her hips. Look good and hard, bucko. She does a little spin at the bottom of the steps. 

“We’ll see about that. I been goin’ easy on you.”

“Is that what you call it?”

He types away at his phone, giving a half-hearted grunt in reply. Never could focus on more than one thing at once. Usually, that focus is on her, but seeing as he’s miraculously planning a day for her, she’ll let it slide. My little idiot. Ray wanders to the front door and grabs her mask from the entryway table. She’d tossed it there after sneaking in the night before. Rubbing her fingers over the scratched plastic, memories of an uncomfortable past flash through her mind. 

A lot of things have changed in her life since meeting Chatty. Masks, usually something easily disposed of in her gang life, take a whole new meaning. Chang Gang might have their favorite “looks”, but masks always served a very specific purpose–to hide. They’d change their identities with different outfits and voices. Always running. Even back then she loved this bunny mask. It stuck out from the usual choices. And then she’d disappeared. Crafting a new mask to wear around new friends. When the city called her back, she thought she’d perfected it. A mask of normalcy that could get her where she wanted to go. A mask for a life outside of her gang. A life she could call hers , not afforded to her by any man or group. For a while, she wore it flawlessly, a sane smile that never touched her eyes. Made friends that were mostly normal and worked a typical job. She was still running from the truth of who she was. And then they showed up. The clowns. Specifically, the clown now standing in their home planning a unique day for her . He saw through the fragile mask, coaxing her out of the carefully crafted shell. He wore a mask too. He hid the rage and insecurities of a battered soul behind a painted smile. But he wore it proudly too. The clowns embraced all the broken pieces of themselves and wore the masks not to hide but to showcase their unique identities. And for once, when she puts on the mask, she doesn’t feel like she’s running.

A gentle touch on her shoulder makes her jump out of her skin. Fuck sake. Ray clutches at her pounding heart.

“Don’t DO that.”

“Sorry! Sorry,” he frowns, “You okay, Cups? I called your name twice.”

“Yes, Chatty. I’m fine.”

Ray secures the bunny mask quickly in a useless attempt to move on from the swirling thoughts. He never lets her run.

“Nuh-uh, Cups. You better tell me what’s going on.”

“Or what?” she pushes back.

“We’re not starting our day until you tell me what’s wrong. I want you to have fun.”

Strutting out the front door, Ray twirls her wrench in her hand like wielding a sword to protect her from the emotional bullshit.

“I’m just bein’ sentimental, Chatty. No biggie.”

“Senti–wha’?”

“Sentimental. It means…like…thinking about the past.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

Ray scrunches her nose, “Both sometimes.”

She stands in front of the bright red Club passenger door. Chatterbox hurries past her to open it. And then shut it again. 

“Actually…”

Eyes widening as it sets in what he’s thinking, Ray groans.

“Please don’t make me drive.”

“I’ll tell you what. We’ll do our first roll for the day.”

“ First roll?”

A mischievous fire lights in his golden eyes, leaving her touched by the warmth of the morning sun. 

“That’s the name of the game today, Ray Mond.”

“I thought it was ‘Yes to Chatty Day’ not ‘Yes to the Dice Day’?”

Ray kicks her hip out to the side, folding her arms over her chest.

“Um…well…I’m deciding when you roll the dice, so.”

A perfectly plucked eyebrow raises in skeptic uncertainty.

“You had me spin a wheel. What’s the difference?”

“I had specific things planned.”

“Who said I don’t?”

He planned? Ray blinks in confusion before squinting at the broad-shouldered clown, looking a little too good in his suit. A little too put together. A little too confident.

“Did you make Sooty plan stuff for you?”

“She’s helping with some of the organization stuff but all the stuff for today is my idea.”

“No help?”

“Just with getting people organized.”

“Mmm’kay.”

“You think I’m too stupid to come up with fun bullyuck to do?”

Now it’s his turn to take a sassy pose, sizing her up. Ray holds out a hand for the dice.

“No. You’re the smartest person I know. I told you that.”

“Oh, alright,” he smiles and unfurls from his defensive stance.

Chatterbox reaches into his pocket and pulls out his die, worn from years of use. The gold dots denote the numbers scratched and faded against the black and red plastic. He lays them gently in her hand, closing her fingers around them. He lingers. The heat from his skin under the glove travels up her arm like a creeping vine to her cheeks. His touch still gives her butterflies. Rabid butterflies that turn her gut upside down. Ray meets his eyes.

“Six and below, you drive.”

I like those odds. A curt nod. Chatterbox lets her hand go. She shakes the dice in her hand before dropping them into the grass. They jump around in the dirt, landing next to her strappy combat boots. Please don’t make me drive. They lean over, heads parallel, as they try to decipher the total. Ray throws her hands up in victory. 

“Seven!”

“Cups. Four plus two is six.”

“I hate math.”

Chatterbox chuckles as he picks up the dice, dusting them off on his vest. Dust flies through the air as she kicks at the gravel driveway. Her boots beat down on the earth as she stomps her way to the driver’s side, swinging the door open with such force it rocks the car. 

“How do I know these dice aren’t loaded?” Ray grumbles as she clicks her seatbelt on. 

“You think I’d cheat?”

“You better not. Cheating is worse than murder.”

“Not that kinda cheating, Cups,” Chatty facepalms. 

“Chatty, you and I both know we like to look for loopholes.”

“Okay, well, I take the dice serious. You know I use them all the time to decide stuff.”

“That’s true.” 

Ray starts up the car, the engine roaring to life. Chatterbox double-checks his seatbelt.

“Okie, where we going?”

“Hospital first to get lots of bandages.”

“Where’s the hospital?”

He’s leaning forward, typing into the GPS as she says it.

“Already on the map, Cups.”

“Thank you,” she lilts, dancing along to the bumping dubstep on the radio. Chatty beatboxes along to the ear-numbing bass as they race down the highway toward the city. He’s so talented. Ray takes a glimpse at him out of the corner of her eye. Funny, creative, a leader, a get-away god, and really REALLY good at… Chatterbox reaches over and yanks the wheel to the right. They swerve around the SUV they nearly plowed through. 

“Oopsie.”

“I’d like to at least make it to the hospital, Cups.”

Ray takes a hard left, shifting gears out of habit as they careen toward the hospital. They do a clean 360 into a parking spot that leaves Chatterbox clinging to his seatbelt.

“What?” she asks innocently, “Sometimes I can drive.”

“Holy yuck.”

He tumbles out of the car, landing on his hands and knees. Scrambling to his feet, he jogs toward the lobby. Ray follows after. A flash of bright green catches her eye as she rounds the corner.

“Tinkles!”

“Hiiii,” the vibrant clown waves.

“Wait, I’m mad at you.”

“No, don’t be mad at Twinkles.”

Twinkles crosses his arms and flops to the ground in an exaggerated pout. Chatterbox glances over from the nurse he’s talking to for bandages.

“C’mon, Cups. Look at him!”

“He’s so cute,” Ray sighs.

“Wha-huh?”

“Yeah,” Twinkles giggles.

Chatty shoots daggers at Twinkles as he stands from the pristine floor. Ray remains oblivious, linking arms with Twinkles as they walk back towards the car.

“So since you’ve doomed me to this day of having to listen to Chatty, do you plan on hanging out?”

His eyes dart nervously over to his leader stalking behind them.

“Uh…”

“You’re more than welcome, Twinkles. In fact, you’re even a possible person for her to roll for!”

“Really?” Ray bounces on her toes.

“That sounds like fun!”

“Wait, people to roll for?”

“You’ll see.”

“Ooo, the suspense,” Twinkles does a little dance.

Chatterbox bursts into a beatbox to match the rhythm of Twinkles’ movements. The pair jive on their created groove as Ray watches on. My boys. The two clowns both saved her in their own rights. Twinkles showed her what a truly innocent friendship could look like, even if he got a crush on her in the end. But, like, who doesn’t? And even now, even having chosen Chatty, she knows Twinkles will do anything for her. He’s already proven it. I wish he could have shot Peters more. Ray giggles to herself at the realization that both Twinkles and Chatty had shot the same man for her that day. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Nothing.”

“That’s what you said last night too and it weren’t nothing,” Chatterbox snickers.

Ray punches his shoulder. 

“Ow! Yuck.”

“Why? What happened last night?”

“ NOTHING ,” Ray and Chatterbox assert in unison.

Twinkles scratches his head. Ray flicks Chatterbox’s forehead. He swats at her hand, giving it a gentle tap. The lovebirds start playfully swatting at each other, taking ridiculous ninja stances and running around Twinkles. He pulls out his wrench.

“Twinkles is going to turn this fight around.”

They raise their hands in surrender, breathless from their bickering. Neither of them would be willing to hit Twinkles. 

“You win this time,” Ray pants.

Chatterbox’s hands rest on his knees as he drinks in the air. 

“Okay, enough bullyuck.”

“You’re bullyuck,” Ray shoots.

“The yuck does that even mean?”

She shrugs, “I dunno.”

Twinkles raises his wrench toward Chatterbox.

“Don’t make Twinkles do it.”

“I’m not doing nothing,” Chatterbox sighs.

“Maybe Twinkles is choosing me after all.”

“Twinkles isn’t choosing anybody.”

“Yeah, he’s not choosing anybody.”

“Technically…”

“Ray,” his voice drops in warning.

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes, “So when do we start?”

A chime on Chatterbox’s phone provides the answer.

“Perfect timing. I’m gonna send you somethin’ Sooty made to help us today.”

“M’kay.”

Ray looks down at her phone, foot tapping impatiently as she waits for the new message inevitably coming her way. The guide lights up her screen, one side red and the other black with numbers in a list down the screen. Each number had a phrase or name in golden lettering.

“Awww it’s so cute! It matches your dice!”

“Yeah! She did a great job,” Chatterbox shows his phone to Twinkles.

“That’s so cool!”

“So what do you say, Cups? You ready for your first roll?”

“Yes, oh my god, let’s go. Gimme the dice. C’mon c’mon c’mon.”

Ray’s whole body buzzes with electricity in anticipation of what might come. Hopefully something crazy . The sleepiness of the morning fully dissipates, revealing her true nature. Chaos incarnate. Chatterbox hands her the dice which she promptly drops on the ground. The three clowns lean down.

“It’s…”

Chapter Text

The dice tumble across the cracked and dented sidewalk in front of the hospital. Their haphazard dance catches the eye of various on-lookers, but none more intrigued than his queen. Chatterbox tilts his head as he tries to read the numbers. Hawk-like eyes, dark and sharp like a shattered walnut, brighten like the golden dots. 

“One and three!”

“What’s that mean?! What’s it?!”

Ray bounces on her toes, the excitement bubbling like lava from an erupting volcano. The force of her joy is just as powerful–and violent. She squeezes his arm as she bounds to read the text over his shoulder. 

“Ow! Yuck, you’re strong.”

“Shut up and tell me what the dice sayyy,” she whines.

“You’ve got the text too, Cups.”

“I can’t read.”

Chatterbox shakes his head and laughs. 

“Alright, alright.” 

He double-checks the list, heart fluttering against his chest as she gives his arm another squeeze. Physical touch isn’t something he'd ever thought he’d enjoy. A childhood of physical abuse from his father followed by the empty hole left by his mother’s neglect primed Chatterbox for an isolated existence. Then after Bobo found him, physical touch really became associated with violence and pain. The clown life was an unexpectedly harsh one, made even harsher when one’s guardian had a taste for human stew.  Raised to hunt man, Chatterbox soon saw himself as only capable of inflicting damage through touch. Failure in his childhood meant time in a cage under a blinding light that left him nowhere to hide. And so he cowered in the shadows. Cops and gangbangers alike beat the yuck out of him whenever he emerged just long enough to disrupt their lives. Then she came along and had to yuck it all up. Physical touch from her was something he craved. Even a grazing pass with her fingers on his arm or thigh while they talk sets his whole body on ablaze. Yuck, he’d even take a kick in the teeth if it meant feeling her warmth. Light from her didn’t scare him. He wanted to bathe in it. He sneaks a look at her face in his peripheral, greeted with eyes like the moon–bright and bathing him in light. Oh, yuck. Why was she lookin’ at me? Chatterbox clears his throat. 

“The red die is a one so that means yer makin’ a prank call.”

“Okay! Let’s go!!”

Ray grabs his hand and drags him toward the car, giving Chatterbox little time to snatch the dice off the ground. He stumbles forward and shoves the dice back into his pocket. Twinkles waves goodbye, giggling at his friends' insatiable need for speed.

“To the nearest payphone!”

“Cups! Slow down! We got all day!”

Chatterbox would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate her enthusiasm. The boundless energy bubbling out of her like the spring of life itself renews his passion for yuckery daily. Being a clown keeps things exciting, sure, but before her, the world still seemed so dull. Everything exists in neon technicolor when she’s at his side. Chatterbox buckles his seatbelt and turns the engine. Ray bounces her leg, the excitement radiating from her like a beacon for chaos. 

“And the black die is a three, so yer prankin’ Kirk.”

“Oooo, Kirk. Hmm…”

Her slender finger taps against her lips as she stares out the window. The car weaves through traffic as they race north toward Chumash. It’s not the nearest payphone, but it is the safest. Kirk won’t think to look for them there. The sun beats down on them as it finally breaches the highest point of the mountain ranges that make up the rugged terrain of Chatterbox’s childhood. The woods raised him in danger and resilience. The trees provided cover when hiding from an angry Bobo. The squirrels provided a quick meal when disappearing from a hunting gang. The murder kitties…well…they provided excellent motivation to run a little faster. The crunch of metal as he sideswipes a truck takes him out of the daze of memories. Wake the yuck up, Chatterbox.

“Out of the way, YUCKBAG!” Ray screams out the car window.

“Yeahhhh!” Chatterbox laughs. 

He’ll never stop being impressed by how quickly his queen adjusted to the clown life. Like she was meant to be yuckin’ with them all along. I shoulda been there. It’s silly, he knows, to blame himself for not finding her so many years ago. Yuck, he probably wouldn’t have even been able to rescue her. He’s a new clown. A better clown. The Chatterbox before prowled in the darkness; her light would have been inconceivable to him. Sometimes he sees bits of his old self in her though. Always yuckin’ fighting. If she’s not taking down some external threat, she’s ripping herself apart. He gets it. 

Chaos feels safer sometimes. 

White light pierces through the mist gathering in his eyes. Who knew falling in love could make him so yuckin’ emotional? The glint of the sun off the metal siding of the convenience store temporarily blinds him. Newspapers fly through the air as the car comes to rest against the now-crumpled newsstand. 

“We’re here!”

Ray’s already halfway out of the car. 

“Okay! I think I know what I’m gonna say.”

Chatterbox leans an elbow against the payphone. She walks in tight circles in front of the scratched metal, covered in stickers and advertisements from over the years. Weather worn, they’re unintelligible jumbles of pictures and words. Not that Chatterbox would want to read them anyway. Not when his favorite book paces in front of him.

“You’re gonna do great, Cups”

“Duh!”

The confidence in her voice masks the uncertainty in her eyes. Chatterbox despises the mask she still wears in front of him. Especially when he’s removed his mask for her. It’s just them, anyway.

“It’s okay to be nervous. You don’t do this a lot. But I seen how you threatened GeeGee. That was yuckin’ awesome.”

“I’m not nervous,” she laughs uncomfortably, “Why would you think I’m nervous?”

“Cups…”

“I’m not nervous!”

Time to shut up. Ray’s tongue holds a razor to his throat. He swallows and holds a hand up in surrender. 

“Alright. You’re not yuckin’ nervous. Whenever you’re ready.”

Long nails rap an uncertain beat against the receiver as she holds it to her ear. A deep breath in as she takes a step closer.

“Can you read me his number?”

Chatterbox slowly reads out his best friend’s phone number, giving her time to punch in each digit. The chirp of the phone ringing makes even his heart race. Chatterbox is no stranger to prank calls. After all, it’s a prank call that brought her into his life in the first place. He still gets yuckin’ nervous sometimes, especially when calling people who wouldn’t hesitate to yuck him up. But that’s the fun of it. The adrenaline. Kirk’s drawling voice booms through the phone.

“Hay-llo?”

Ray pinches her nose. 

“Is this a mister Kirk Jerkems?”

Nasally and high, she sounds entirely unrecognizable. Chatterbox slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle the laugh budding in his throat. It presses his mask tight against his lips, curling into a thrilled smile. 

“Who the fuck is this?”

“This is Sally. Don’t you know me?”

Ray glares at him, trying to choke back her laughter. 

“Sally who? You sound like Squidward after he sucked on a lemon and then heard Spongebob singing in his yard. Puckered up and tight as fuck. Unlike Ratchet’s asshole.”

She holds a hand over the mic of the phone to let out a laugh before quickly bringing it back to her ear.

“You really don’t remember me? Sally? Sally from back home?”

“No, I don’t fucking remember you. What do you want?”

“I’m just calling to warn you.”

“Warn me?”

Chatterbox watches her quizzically. He’s entirely unsure where this is going, but he feels a strange sense of pride hearing one of his own lines from her lips. They really were made for each other. 

“Yes, warn you. About Ken.”

“Who? I ain’t afraid of no guy named after a fuckin’ Barbie doll.”

“You don’t wanna know about Ken?”

“Ken who?”

“Ken deez nuts fit in your mouth!” she screams in her normal tone before slamming the phone back into place. 

The pair make eye contact before erupting into raucous laughter. 

“There’s…no…yuckin’...way.”

Chatterbox gasps for air between words, clutching at his chest. 

“I’m gonna die,” she squeaks out through unrelenting giggles.

“Yuck, I wish I coulda seen his face.”

Ray’s phone starts to ring. They stop laughing for a brief second. Little giggles break through the attempted silence.

“He…Hello?”

“HICCUPS!”

Kirk’s voice thunders through the phone despite not being on speaker. The dam breaks, laughter once again flooding the seaside air. The waves crash against the sand just as their bodies crash into each other, holding the other up as the rolling mirth washes over them. 

“When I get my hands on you two….Ohhhh.”

His threats would be more intimidating if the smile on his face wasn’t so evident. 

“C’mon, Kirk,” Chatterbox chokes out, “That was yuckin’ funny.”

“I’m gonna get you back so good, Hiccups. Mark my words.”

“What should I mark them with?”

Chatterbox doubles over, wheezing with amusement. 

“Y’all really are two peas in one fucked up pod.”

Kirk hangs up and Ray smiles proudly. 

“Told ya I could do it.”

“I never doubted you, Cups.” 

Chatterbox offers his arm to his queen, which she takes with a dramatic sweep of her hand. He escorts her back to the car. Opening the door and bowing, she giggles at his showmanship.

“Maybe we should do this more often. I’m getting the five-star treatment.”

“You saying I don’t usually give you the five-star treatment?”

“Mmmm, like four and a half stars.”

“Four and a half yuckin’ stars?”

“Ya!” Ray scrunches her nose beneath her mask. 

Chatterbox shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“Yer yuckin’ something, Cups.”

“The best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“I…can’t even argue with that.”

He hands her the dice as he pulls away from the shopette, lingering as their fingers brush. Despite his gloves, the heat from her body lures him in. An ever-tempting distraction from their mission for bedlam. He coughs. 

“So…uh…time to roll again.”

"Okay! Where do you want me to drop the dice?"

"Uh... here."

Chatterbox reaches into the back seat and grabs an old Funhouse Foods chatterbox from a week ago. He dumps stray crumbs out the window before handing it to Ray.

"This'll work."

Ray checks the box for any remaining food bits or sauce.

"This is gross, but I'll accept it this one time."

"Picky. Picky," Chatterbox grumbles.

"Sorry for having standards, your majesty."

Her dripping sarcasm pricks at his confidence, digging under his skin in a way only she can. It's yuckin' hot.

"How you gonna talk about standards when you're dating me?"

"I'll have you know, Mr. Box, that you've set a standard that no other man can meet."

"You mean it?"

"Haven't I told you that before?"

“No!”

“Hm, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s bad for your ego.”

“I have an ego?”

“Chatty, you literally say you’re a god all the time.”

“That’s because I am.”

“Sometimes, ya.”

"You're probably right. I can be a yuckin' idiot."

"But you're my idiot."

Chatterbox glances over to her, her gaze warming him in places the sun cannot touch. The smile under his mask rivels the painted one. A genuine grin that reaches his honey-dipped eyes.

"Roll," he whispers.

"Okay," she hums.

The dice bounce around in the thin cardboard box with a dull clack.

"The red one is a two. And the black one is five."

Checking his phone, he nearly sends them off a cliff as they take a turn too fast. Ray instinctively grasps his arm as he puts it out across her chest to protect her. The pressure from her nails cuts into his skin, leaving tiny crescents as she sits back.

"Chattyyyy," she whines.

"I'm sorry. I shoulda pulled over to check my phone. Didn't realize how fast I was goin'. You okay?"

His heart pounds in his chest with a requited urgency. Too yuckin' close. He hates being responsible for her getting hurt, whether it's just the usual clowning around that gets her or something potentially more serious. BonBon was ultimately his fault. He let too much slide. And it left her vulnerable to the sinister jester.

"Just drive better."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll check for the meaning. Just...get us to wherever we're going."

He grips the steering wheel, knuckles turning white to match the polyester gloves soaking up the clamminess from his palms. Losing her would kill him. Especially if he was the reason. I would be the dumbyuck to kill both of the women I marry. Chatterbox adjusts his bowtie which suddenly feels more like a noose. He’s been thinking about Giggles a lot more in the recent weeks. Ever since that phone call to GeeGee, dreams of wedding bells and a pier visit him nightly. Pastels paint the seascape, and lights color the secluded pier in a pleasant glow. Something soft and safe. She deserves that. 

Giggles may have been his wife, but he’s not sure if what they had was love. It felt different with Cups. More warm than practical. More real. Yuck, he’d lied to Giggles in the first place that they were already married. No wedding. No dating. Just violence and sticky hot blood from their enemies. Ray Mond didn’t just join him in the darkness, she dragged him out of it. Beckoning him in from an ocean of tragedy to the shore, she guided him away from the sharp rocks of his creation. He’d murder anyone who dared try to snuff her light. But what if… Chatterbox takes in a shaky breath. And the thought returns. What if it’s him? What if he’s the perpetrator of her turning to ash, slipping through his fingertips? No stranger to his destructive tendencies, the worry of his propensity for carnage lurks in the back of his mind. Sometimes it makes him scared to even touch her. Scared to talk to her. Scared to…

“Oh my god. I have to throw rocks at GeeGee?!”

“Alriiiiight,” Chatterbox cheers, lifted out of the pit his mind concocted for him.

The brewing storm in his mind dissipates to match the clear skies overhead. 

“You really love to get me in trouble.”

“What kinda trouble could you possibly get in?”

“Kitty will be mad at me! I don’t wanna instigate anymore.”

“What’s instipate mean?”

“Instigate. It means to like…start stuff.”

“Well, you’re not starting yuck. She started it.”

“But we already got revenge, Chatty! So this is starting something new.”

“Lemme ask you this. Do you wanna do it?”

“It would be kinda funny.”

Ray fusses with the hem of her skirt, fiddling with the flattering fabric. He missed this outfit so much. The first glimpse at her feeling truly alive. Truly beautiful. Wholly her. 

“Then I have an idea of how to make this happen. You trust me?”

“With my life.”

“Let’s do it.”

“M’kay!” she brightens.

“Food first though.”

Chatterbox drifts into the food court parking lot, hitting only one car on the way. A bright red scratch on the damaged SUV’s midnight paint marks his impact on some random yuckbag’s life. It’ll buff out. He kicks the door for good measure.

“In my way,” he grumbles. 

“Chattyyy!”

“Whaaaat?”

Ray’s smirk beneath the mask and twinkle in her eyes betray her false outrage at his tantrum. They stride toward Funhouse Foods where Sooty waits for them. 

“Goooood morning, your majesties!”

“Hi, Sooty!”

“Heya, Sooty. You got our picnic ready for us?”

“Picnic?”

“Yep, yep, yep!”

Holding out a woven basket decorated with colorful ribbons that jostle with each movement, Sooty beams with pride. The smell of freshly made bread wafts through the basket. A red plaid blanket rests on top of the deep brown weave, tucked under the caramel-colored handle. 

“I put a couple sandwiches and a few BoomBoom Blasts. And four Hiccupcakes!”

“Thanks, Sooty. That’s perfect.”

Ray crosses her arms skeptically.

“You? You planned a picnic?”

“Why is that so surprising? You think I can’t have good ideas?”

“You have the best ideas. They’re just usually chaotic. Not romantic”

“Picnics can be chaotic. Gotta look out for murder kitties!”

“Yeah!”

“That’s true,” she narrows her eyes. 

“Plus we might be spending a lot of time on the run so it’s good to have a meal ready in the car.”

“Okay, now it makes sense.”

“Yeah!”

“Is that why you had a random food container in your car?”

“No, that's from when we caught a Darag lacking. He had it on him so me and Kirk ate his food in front of him. The guy wouldn't stop screaming; it was really funny.”

“You’re a psycho,” Ray giggles affectionately.

“Chatty, do you need me to clean out your car?”

“No, no, no. It’s fine.”

Chatterbox turns to leave, catching a glimpse of Ray widening her eyes and giving Sooty an exaggerated nod. Ray picks up the basket and gawks at the weight. Sooty touches Ray’s arm in affirmation before getting back to work prepping food for the lunchtime rush. The food court used to be bustling. In fact, his queen worked at the chain restaurant that made the mall reek of burnt oil and salt when he first ran into her after the economic collapse. The Chang Gang princess, reduced to slicing vegetables for a living. Like most gang bangers though, she eventually found her way back to pushing drugs for her overlords. Ray relished in it though. Something that he couldn’t quite understand. Why would anyone want to spend most of their time making money? It was important to her though. And that he could understand. He understood it enough to spend his own time in that rundown taco shop just so she could get a taste of freedom more often. Those concrete walls felt more like a prison than the actual prison he’d be taking her to later. If her yuckin’ plot armor cooperates. For a girl who commands chaos, she never seems to be touched by the fires that lick at her fingertips. Never a consequence. Not a state-sanctioned one anyway. It’s also why it’s so important she has some yucking fun today. She’s earned it ten times over with how much she’s helped CG, the clowns, and most importantly–him. 

“C’mon, your highness,” he jabs. “Your crusty chariot awaits.”

Ray skips past him, clunky combat boots jangling with each step. Peeks of her tanned skin beneath the flowy skirt catch his eye. The picnic basket swings in her hand, no doubt jostling around the food to create a mess for later. It’ll all taste the yuckin’ same anyway. She reaches the car first, tapping her foot impatiently as if she wasn’t behind him just a few moments ago. 

“Hurry up! It’s been hours.”

“Cups, it’s been five minutes. We were at the food court for five minutes. We still got all day.”

“ Hours,” she enunciates. 

“Oh, so now you’re in a rush to throw rocks at GeeGee?”

They settle into the car, falling into playful banter as Chatterbox drives to a spot just outside of Grove Street where gang members dressed in cerulean blue congregate outside of a dilapidated SouthSide home. GeeGee’s hot pink sports car sits in the middle of the gaggle of yuckbags, freshly polished in the morning sun. 

“Okay, so here’s the plan.”

Chatterbox leans into Ray, whispering as if the idiots outside might hear them. 

“I’m gonna call GeeGee from my prank call SIM so she won’t recognize the number. I’ll make up some stupid yuckin’ story about finding one of their boys somewhere and how if she doesn’t come to get him, I’m gonna dump him in the ocean. Then, we’ll hide in a bush somewhere on the way to the spot and throw rocks at her car as it passes.”

“What if she chases us?” Ray questions in a hushed tone.

“Well, then I get us away because I’m a yuckin’ god.”

“See? Ego.”

Ray pinches his arm mischievously. He flinches and rubs the spot.

“Is it ego if it’s yuckin’ true?”

“Good point. We should probably use a different car if we want to be really sneaky.”

“You scared, Ray Mond?”

She adjusts her mask, making sure the bunny caricature stays fastened to her face.

“That’s Cups to you, yuckbag. C’mon, let’s go.”

The tires spin against the asphalt as he heads to the perfect spot in Sandy Shores. The growl of his engine announces their departure, Manor members lazily looking for the source of the noise. 

Clay-red dust trails behind them and masks the small Club in a haze. This will come in handy if we need to get away. Chatterbox finds a small plateau overlooking a dirt road into Sandy with a few thickly-leaved bushes. He hops out of the car to get a better look. Small trailers flash in the distance, clothes fluttering on their lines in the constant breeze whipping through the lifeless desert. Well, not quite lifeless. Motorcycle-riding locals drift past toward the small community of Stab City hidden in the hills. And then there’s the Lost MC that still claims this turf. Grapeseed is so much better. Chatterbox pulls at his ear, thinking through what he’ll say to GeeGee on the phone. The slam of the car door behind him spooks him out of his brainstorming session.

“This seems like a good spot.”

“Yeah, I think so too. Find some good-sized rocks while I call GeeGee.”

Ray saunters off, raking through the tough soil for rocks large enough to do some real damage. Her long onyx braids fall over her shoulder as she bends down to collect a few stones. Chatterbox’s eyes follow them, admiring the shimmer of sweat on her shoulders. It’s only mid-morning but the sun already seeps the air in a sweltering heat. The lack of trees doesn’t help, no relief on the barren terrain. Better hurry the yuck up and get this over with. Chatterbox switches his SIM cards and makes the call.

“Hello?”

GeeGee’s nasally tone makes his skin crawl, like nails on a chalkboard.

“Uh…yeah. Hello? Is this Giavanna?”

“Yes, how can I help you?”

Chatterbox chooses to use a gravelly deep voice, something serious and commanding. 

“You’re part of the Manor, yeah? Y’all wear that bright blue color?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“I think I’ve got one of your boys here. He’s got a thick British accent. He’s in a real bad way. Could use your help?”

“Did you hurt him?” GeeGee’s voice runs cold.

“No. No. I just found him like this. We’re out in Stab City. I’m Cerce from the Lost.”

“Cerce? I’ve never heard of you.”

He turns and starts to walk around as restlessness sets in.

“Do you want to help your boy or not?”

“Yeah. I’m on my way.”

“See you when you get here. Oh. And Giavanna?”

“Yes?”

“Come alone. He’s somewhere he shouldn’t be. The fewer eyes the better.”

“I get it. Secrets and all that. I’ll be there.”

Chatterbox turns around as he ends the call to find his queen staring out toward Stab City on the edge of the small plateau. A weak breeze flutters through stray waves that become dislodged from their dedicated place in the plaits resting against her back. She’s still. Stillness terrifies him. 

“Cups?”

He softly announces his approach with a tender touch to the back of her arm. 

“Hm?” she hums.

Her gaze doesn’t falter from the makeshift community in the distance like it’s singing some siren song he can’t hear. Then he notices her fingers tracing the scars on her abdomen. Oh. Sometimes memories of the past, recent and distant, take her too. It’s something of himself he sees reflected back, something Ray helps to heal purely by existing in his world. He wants to be better for her. To help her. To give her the space to save herself. 

Chatterbox gingerly joins his hand to hers, the roughness of the scars a stark contrast to the velvet skin around it. 

“Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi. I made the call.”

“Okay.”

Their heads rest together, as he wraps his other arm around her waist. The intimate hug freezes time around them, the world suddenly silent as if holding its breath. Chatterbox presses a masked kiss to her shoulder. She takes a steadying breath in, resting her body back against his. 

“You got him in the end, you know. You won.”

“Not before you, and Twinkles, and Sooty got hurt.”

“That’s not your fault, Cups.”

“Mm, maybe.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

Chatterbox tightens his arms around her as if to root himself to her. To ground them both to the earth beneath them. She gives his arm a reassuring squeeze as if to thank him for holding her back from the ledge. The sound of the sporty engine’s whine jolts them both out of the safe bubble only they exist in when alone together. Time for chaos. Ray shoves two jagged rocks in Chatterbox’s hands, staining his white gloves with the now sweat-moistened clay. They dive into the bush shielding them from even the keenest eyes on the road. Hearts now pounding in harmony rather than resting in unison, Chatterbox and Ray share a silent but expressive look. They nod a countdown. One. Two. They whip the first rocks at the vivid car below. Shattering glass breaks the anticipatory stillness, sending glittering diamonds across the worthless desert. Ray lets out an involuntary cheer before slapping a hand over her mask. The car screeches to a halt. GeeGee steps out, surveying the damage. 

“What the fuck?!” she screams in frustration. 

Ray takes another rock in her hand. 

“One more,” she giggles. 

“That’s my girl,” he smiles proudly. 

As GeeGee turns around to get back in her car, waving her arms emphatically while on the phone, Ray launches another rock down the hill. It clangs loudly against the back of her car, sending dark gray smoke into the air.

“NO FUCKING WAY,” GeeGee squeaks.

“Time to go,” Chatterbox laughs, grabbing Ray’s hand and running to the car. 

They hop in and fasten their seatbelts before looking over at each other. 

“Dare you to take a jump over her to the next hill.”

“God, I yuckin’ love you.”

Chatterbox revs the engine and Ray grasps her seatbelt firmly. 

“Ready?”

“Yuck it.”

Pressing the pedal to the floor, the Club kicks up a cloud of dust before hurtling the lovers over their latest victim. 

“Watch for falling rocks!” Ray screams out the window, giving GeeGee a wave.

The crisp sound of a gunshot and the ping of metal against the trunk stops Chatterbox’s heart for a second.

“You okay?”

“Her aim fucking sucks.”

He blows air through his nose in amusement as she whoops and hollers with each wild turn he takes through the hills. Ray’s phone starts to ring. She promptly hits the red button on her screen, rolling her eyes.

“She’s gotta learn to have a little fun.”

“Yuckin’ rights.”

Launched forward, Chatterbox’s head hits the steering wheel. What the yuck? GeeGee’s fuschia car approaches again in his rearview mirror. He yanks the wheel to the right, expertly dodging her attempted pit. 

“Hang on!” he yells. 

Ray casually reaches behind her to grab the picnic basket. They’ve come a long way in trusting each other. That much is clear. She grabs out a small white box as he dips around a curve that leads them onto Great Ocean Highway. While not the sportiest car in Los Santos, Chatterbox’s tricked-out Club makes quick work of the distance between them and the city. Ray kicks her feet up on the dash, picking apart the cupcake as she snacks on the sweet treat. Sweat trails down the back of Chatterbox’s neck as he dodges another attempted hit from the angry Italian behind them. Gentle humming from Ray soothes his nerves as she bops along to April’s song on the radio. Cars and looming buildings whizz past them as he expertly maneuvers through the streets of Los Santos. He turns into the red garage, pulling into a corner on the second floor. GeeGee flies past them, continuing up the ramp on the opposite end. Ray emits a giggle as Chatterbox lets out a relieved sigh. 

“Aaaaa,” she smiles as she holds up a piece of cupcake.

Chatterbox lifts his mask and opens his mouth. A burst of sugar hits his tongue as she stuffs in a piece of her cupcake. Twinkling eyes meet hers as he backs out of their hiding spot.

“Hungry?”

“A lil’.”

Chatterbox takes the back alleys to Vespucci beaches, sand littered with vivid beach towels and umbrellas. Rolling down both of their windows, he turns up the music louder in the car. Ray sings and dances along in the passenger seat as locals give them a wide berth. Slowing to a stop, the pair hop out in sync. Chatterbox pops the trunk and grabs the blanket out. The wind takes it, draping it easily over the hot sand. Ray sets down the basket at one of the corners. Plopping down onto the blanket, Chatterbox kicks out his legs with his hands behind his head. Ray lays out two of the sandwiches and two of the now melty drinks. 

“Oh, I don’t need a sandwich yet, Cups.”

“You’re gonna make me eat alone?”

Ray removes her mask, lips pressed into an adorable pout.

“I’m just not that hungry yet.”

“I can’t believe you,” Ray drops down next to him, arms crossed.

“I’ll tell ya what, Cups.”

Turning over to rest on an elbow, Chatterbox reaches over to brush his hand over her thigh. She raises an eyebrow at the flirtatious touch.

“You eat, and then you decide how much to share with me.”

She squints her eyes, measuring the bargain. 

“So you’ll eat?” 

“Mhm.”

“M’kay.”

Hungrily unwrapping the sandwich, Ray begins to babble on about some recent drama she overheard at the PayWool. Cheeks puffed out with food, Chatterbox can’t help but think she looks like the little chipmunks that nest in the barn. He reaches up and pokes one of her cheeks. Ray scrunches her nose.

“Wha-?” she mumbles.

“Yuckin’ cute.”

A crimson blush colors her cheeks and she looks out to the ocean. Red really is my favorite color. Ray holds out the sandwich and Chatterbox dutifully takes a bite. Sooty does have a knack for food. With both her and Wendy keeping the fridge stocked, he’s been having to put in a little more work on the farm to keep ready for anything. Staying fit for him never stemmed from a need to look good. Gotta stay fit when he runs from the cops regularly, slipping into crevices and dodging into tight hiding spaces. He’d long ago resigned to the unspoken fact of his monstrous appearance, something he hadn’t reconsidered until recently. Ray smiles with satisfaction at him eating with her. The way she looks at him makes him feel… what’s the yuckin’ word for it …desirable. 

Deciding to share his scars with her didn’t come easy. Previous viewers screamed in his face. But her, she saw through every single blemish on his flesh and soul alike. “ You’re so handsome,” she’d told him. Touching his face with a tenderness Chatterbox only saw given to beautiful things, like flowers and puppies, Ray challenged everything he’d ever thought of himself. 

“You having fun, Cups?”

Ray nods enthusiastically, mouth still full of the delicious food. Thank yuck. His nerves move out with the tide, dissipating into the expanse beyond them. He takes a sip of his BoomBoom Blast. Surprisingly still cold, it gives some relief from the summer heat. Restlessness starts to settle in, and he begins to fiddle with the dice. Ray offers him a few more bites from the sandwich before boredom begins to twist its talons into her as well.

“So what’s next?”

“All done with your snack?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright then, Ms. Cups,” Chatterbox holds out the dice, “Roll.”

The dice jump around the blanket, erratic from the uneven sand. Ray takes a picture on her phone, saying something about the “aesthetics”, whatever the yuck that means. 

“So?”

Chatterbox looks up at her with a gleam in his eye. 

“You’re gonna yuckin’ love this.”

Chapter Text

“Cups! That’s not what that means!”

Chatterbox rubs his forehead as Ray paces circles around the picnic blanket with her wrench in hand. 

“You said!”

“I said the dice are six and two, which are 'rob' and 'CG member of your choosing'. Not that you have to rob CG. You didn’t even let yuckin’ me explain!”

“BOUNDARIES.”

“You don’t have to rob CG, Cups!”

“That’s what you said!”

“Okay, let me explain would ya? Before you whack me with that yuckin’ thing?”

“You better hurry up!”

Ray raises the red wrench with her initials carved into the handle in a threatening stance. She shifts her weight quickly, ready to swing with one wrong word. I yuckin’ love her. Chatterbox shakes his head at her rambunctious switch of energy. Her fierce loyalty to the people she considers family rivals his own. As much as he can’t stand the yuckbags in the clowns, he’d do just about anything for them. Unless it would be funnier to do nothing. 

“We’re gonna rob a cash exchange, Cups. And you can bring one CG member of your choosing to come with.”

“Oh!”

Flashing a satisfied smile, Ray lowers her wrench.

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Cups,” Chatterbox chuckles.

There’s truly a raging inferno inside her, biting at the chance to be let rampant. Chatterbox recognized it at the very first clown date. Finally freed from the judgment of the yuckers she called “friends”, Ray radiated with an ethereal glow as they drove around causing chaos. It scared him. Seeing someone so vibrant set off all the alarm bells in his body. He’s already lost so many people. What would it mean to lose someone who seemed to contain the whole sun in her pinky finger? But it’s been so good . He’ll make sure it stays good. No matter the cost. 

“Chattyyy,” she whines, “how do I choose?”

“Well, who do you think would be the most fun?”

“Mmmm…”

She twirls a braid between her fingers as she contemplates that rather difficult question. Chatterbox would be lying if he said the yuckbags he called his enemies weren’t also entertaining as yuck. Kirk once described the clowns and Chang Bang like some guys named Batman and the Joker. Apparently, they were a superhero and supervillain that would chase each other around all the yuckin’ time, bored without each other. I’m not sure who the hero or villain is in our story. Chatterbox wasn’t no saint. But those gangbangers made his life hell for so many years. Seeing them as potential extended family threw him for a loop. But for her…

“Taco and Kirk together is always super funny.”

Ray takes to talking through her thoughts out loud. A certified yapper. He could listen to her talk for hours. And sometimes she does. Spinning circles around their bedroom and yammering on about anything and everything. Sometimes he gets dizzy watching her, infatuated with her energy. Her essence. Always full of good ideas. 

“You wanna bring Kirk?”

“Kirk has to come.”

“Okay!”

“And Twinkles.”

“Duh.”

“But I also kinda wanna bring Vinny ‘cuz I think it’s really funny when you guys yell at each other.”

“You think it’s funny when we yell?”

“Ya!”

“Jesus yuck, Cups.”

Chatterbox starts packing up their picnic, tossing the trash on a nearby bonfire. He’s not gonna leave any trash behind. Not when there are already seagulls scouting out their spot. Tessa told him the food doesn’t hurt them, but if they accidentally eat trash it could be really bad. The last thing he wants to do is disappoint his mum. Ray reaches down and picks up a soft pink and brown seashell out of the sand where the blanket once lay. 

“Chatty, look!”

“Whatcha got?”

Folding up the blanket, he sidesteps closer to his girl. She turns over the delicate shell in her slender fingers, her black nails tapping against the ridged curves carved by the ocean. The white underbelly of the shell flashes in the late morning sun. 

“That’s a Macassar Scallop shell, I think. A cool one too! Look there’s a little hole already.”

Ray looks at him quizzically.

“You know what type of shell this is?”

“I used to collect shells when I was a young clown. Bobo would toss them when he found them though. Said they were trash. Tessa helped me learn about them once she took me in.”

“Shells aren’t trash,” Ray frowns.

“I agree!”

“Yuck Bobo. I’m keeping this. Just to spite him. Also, it’s so pretty. Maybe I can make it into a necklace or something.”

“Really?”

“Ya! A lil’ memento from today!”

“I wanted you to leave today with a record for a memory, Cups.”

“I can have both! Then I can definitely never forget.”

“Alright!”

Ray holds out the shell.

“Can you put it in your pocket? I don’t wanna lose it.”

“But what if I break it?”

Her face scrunches into a deeply serious frown. Eyes steel like daggers, she glares at him.

“Don’t.”

Chatterbox’s heart skips a beat. Maybe from fear. Maybe from love. Maybe a healthy dose of both. Really, what’s one without the other?

“Ye–Yes, ma’am.”

“Good!”

A warm smile breaks across the previously dark expression, any lingering threat dissipating into a loving grin. Chatterbox tucks the shell into the inner pocket of his suit vest. At least it’ll have a better chance of surviving there than in his pants pocket if he falls. Or if I get tased. The probability of both happening was high as yuck with the escape plan he’s got in mind. 

“So have you decided who you wanna bring from Chang Bang?”

“Shit,” she giggles, “I forgot.”

“Hurry up, Cups,” he teases. 

“This is an impossible choice!”

“No, it’s yuckin’ not!” 

Chatterbox already knows who he wants her to pick. Annoying Vinny was fun, but he didn’t feel like getting screamed at for getting Ray caught when that was the whole point. Taco at least saw the fun in yucking Ray over with the cops. Taco would actually make a good clown. Quick-witted and mischievous, Taco not only accepted his and Cups’ relationship but even rooted for them. He saw how easily Ray made a home with the clowns. How they adored her. How he adored her. 

“Fine. Taco then. Vinny will make me too nervous.”

Thank yuck.  

“You wanna call him or should I?”

“You call the clowns; I’ll call Taco.”

“You’ve gotta pick one more person to come by the way.”

Ray huffs.

“Too many choices! This is supposed to be ‘Yes to Chatty Day’ not ‘Cups Picks Everything Day’!”

Chatterbox raises an eyebrow.

“You really want me to pick?”

“Do your worst.”

Ray wanders off to call Taco, leaving Chatterbox to decide whether to torment his girlfriend or pick someone he wants to come with. Mr. Ratchet is always a safe choice. The freak of a clown not only makes for a great getaway driver, but he also says the most unhinged bullyuck that even stunlocks Ray. Funny and chaotic, Mr. Ratchet keeps the energy at an all-time high. But we could always bring Ember. The fire elf that calls herself a clown makes for a great fall-clown. She’s always down for whatever. Then there’s Sooty. Trapped in the box of the farm warehouse, Sooty could use some fun for once. She works far too much for Chatterbox’s liking. Torn, Chatterbox calls Kirk.

“Kiiiiiirk.”

“Hey, Buddy. How’s your day going?”

“Good. Good. It’s time, Kirk.”

“Time for whut?”

“We’re gonna rob the cash exchange. I need you and Twinkles to round up five getaway vehicles and hide them around the city.”

“Really shitty ones?”

He laughs, “Yeahhhhh!”

“Oh, I’m so fucking excited. Are we trying to get her caught?”

“That’s the goal!”

“It’s about fucking time! How she gonna be the clown queen with a clean record?”

“Don’t you talk about her like that,” Chatterbox’s voice drops. 

His protectiveness about Cups doesn’t stop at his bestest friend. Just like Kirk would do anything for Shiela, Chatterbox would burn down the city and all the clowns in it for her. He would do more. 

“Easy there, ClingyBox.”

“Just get the cars ready then meet us at Strawberry Exchange.”

“We’ll be there quicker than a rabbit hopped up on coke and a butterfly tweakin’ on methamphetamines.”

“What the yuck, Kirk?”

“We’ll be there fast, dumbass. God, I swear you’re more stupid than a box of rocks and twice as useless.”

“Rocks aren’t useless, Kirk.”

“Whatever. See you soon, motherfucker.” 

As soon as Chatterbox hangs up the phone, he realizes he forgot to ask Kirk who else should come with them. Yuck. He calls Twinkles instead. He’ll know what Ray would want more anyway. 

The phone rings twice before the dedicated clown picks up.

“Twi-ink-kles.”

“Chat-ter-box.”

“What’s up, man?”

“Going to go get some cars with Kirk.”

“Yuck, he called you already?”

“Yeah,” Twinkles giggles.

“I need you to do one more thing for me, Twinkles.”

“Sure! What do you need Twinkles to do?”

“I need to pick one more person to come with, and I don’t know who Ray might want more. So far it’s Cups, me, you, Kirk, and Taco.”

“What about Sooty? Twinkles thinks she could use a break.”

“That’s kinda what I was thinking too, thanks Twinkles.”

“Sooty helps keep Ray calm too. Twinkles will call her.”

“Good yuck, Twinkles. I’ll see you in a bit!”

“Byeeee!”

When Chatterbox turns around, Ray stands behind him with a scowl on her face.

“What?”

“Taco said that you said there’d be games! Where are the games?!”

“You have to roll for them, Cups!”

“I want to play games!”

“You’re so demanding! This is ‘Yes to Chatty Day’, remember?”

Chatterbox mocks her earlier assertion. She pouts and crosses her arms.

“Will you just yuckin’ trust me? I have a game planned with this exchange.”

“Really?”

Her eyes light up.

“Yeah! For the getaway.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not yuckin’ telling you until it’s time. Especially when you’re being such a brat.”

“Ex-CUSE me?!”

“A. Brat.”

“Now I’m not going.”

“Oh yes, you yucking are.”

Scooping his arms around her legs, Chatterbox sweeps Ray over his shoulder.

“Put me down!”

Ray kicks her feet with indignation, but she can’t stop the laughter from bubbling to the surface. Chatterbox smirks. 

“Nope. You’re coming with.”

When they first started dating, he didn’t understand why she picked fights so much. He just wanted her to be happy. But nothing ever seemed good enough. Then she said something that made it all click. “I like it when you yell. It’s funny!” She stirs him up just to make him yell at her. To make him pick her up and carry her around. To make him…

“Chatty!”

Snapping out of a memory of tossing her on the bed, he picks up the basket and blanket, hauling all of the goodies back to the trunk. 

“We have a hostage to go get, Cups.”

This seems to settle her down as she stops her squirming. He puts her down next to the passenger side door. 

“We should go get someone from another gang so we have the gang and the cops chasing us.”

“You’re so yuckin’ smart, Cups.”

He opens the door before jogging to his side. 

“I know!”

She doesn’t know. As cool and smart and beautiful and perfect as Ray thinks she is, it isn’t enough. Chatterbox watched as her wings unfolded from their fragile chrysalis. Coming back to Los Santos, she’d built a wall around herself, so terrified to let anyone in, but so desperate not to be alone. He often wonders how much he doesn’t know. What led her to that place? That fragile thing wrapping itself tighter and tighter. But she overcame it. Colorful wings that carry promises of brighter futures sprouted from her back. She can’t possibly know her glory. Not to him. There are not enough words for it in the dictionary. Not that he’s looked at a dictionary. But still, he’s sure. He could talk for days using every word he knows and it wouldn’t be enough to describe what she is to him. To everyone who knows and loves her. And she’s his.  

Max spilled the beans last week. The way she talks about him when he’s not there. He’ll never tell her that he knows, of course. There’s something so sweet about knowing how she truly feels despite her threats and dramatic ramblings. It makes the blows softer. Makes every swing of her wrench feel like a kiss.

“You got my shell?”

“Yes, Cups, I have your yuckin’ shell.”

“If you lose it, I’m sleeping at Kitty’s for a week instead of the Funhouse.”

“Excuse yuckin’ me?”

“You heard me! Now on to steal a hostage!”

Ray throws a fist in the air. There she goes with those bullyuck threats again. Chatterbox shakes his head, grumbling quietly to himself. 

She’s lying. She’s lying so hard. Sleeping without Chatty falls under the “impossible” category right next to living without him. It’s disgusting, really. To be so intricately linked with another person. Let alone a man. She promised April to never need anyone but her. How things change. Now she needs two people. Maybe even three if she counts Max. Four? Kitty. Oh, god. Ray bites into her lower lip and looks out the window of the Club as they speed into the city. 

The truth of it is that Ray put herself in a vulnerable spot after moving back to Los Santos. Determined to restart her life for the better, she forced herself to open up to people. It hurt. Everything inside her screamed at her to stop. Loneliness suddenly terrified her when she decided to step away from CG for a while. Without anyone to back her up, Ray learned to stand on her own two feet. She regrets some of it. People like Gigi and BonBon who she thought might be forever turned their back the moment things got hard. They seemed dedicated to misunderstanding her. To seeing her with blinders on. Not Chatty though. In fact, Chatty might see her too well. Friendships with the clowns and Max and Kitty made all that struggle worth it. She finally found people willing to both die and kill for her. People outside of her first family. The more the merrier. Lord knows she needs the backup with all the trouble she gets into. It’s not like she tries to make enemies. They just kinda…keep showing up. 

Ray pulls down the visor in the car, checking her makeup before reapplying her bunny mask. Turns out some people don’t like a bad bitch to win. She glances over at Chatty. He’s a clown that knows what it’s like to be hated. He thrives in it. Being a clown requires a thick skin. People love to hate them, but Ray can’t understand why. They’re all a bunch of lovable idiots once you get to know them. Some of the most accepting and genuine people in the city just trying to live their goofy lives. Her days of fearing them feel like a distant nightmare. The nightmare has changed now. 

As if on instinct, Ray reaches over to touch Chatty’s arm. To remind herself he’s still there. 

“You alright, Cups?”

“A girl can’t touch her boyfriend?”

“Well…I…y-you can…”

“So then what’s the problem?”

“You just seemed like you went somewhere else is all.”

Curse him.

“Where I got in my brain is none of your business.”

“I’ll have you know, Cups, you are very much my business.”

Hot.

“Well…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know where you went?”

“Just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“For you.”

“I make the rules today, Cups. You gotta tell me what’s going on.”

“Is that a ‘Yes to Chatty Day’ order?”

“Yuckin’ rights.”

“And if I say no?”

“I’ll deal with you later.”

Now that sounds fun.

“You don’t scare me.”

“Remember this later, Ray Mond.”

It’s a rare treat to hear her full name from him now. He usually just sticks to her picked nickname, reserving her legal name for pushing her buttons. All of her buttons. 

“Yuck you, Chatterbox.”

His smug silence drives her crazy. How dare he? But he’s right. In recent weeks, she keeps finding herself staring into nothingness. Like she disappears into the world in front of her, her mind wandering through all the memories lurking in the dark corners of the city. She’s not even sure she’s there. Sometimes she blinks and she’s somewhere else, like autopilot took over her body. It’s kinda frightening, but today is not the day to discuss it with Chatty. He’d freak the fuck out. Probably make me go to the hospital or something. And the last thing she wants to deal with is those white lab coats and voices filled with fake pity. I’d much rather rob this bank. Speaking of…

“Stop!” she screams. 

Chatterbox slams on the brakes; the car nearly spins out into a pole as they come to a screeching halt, causing Ray’s hands to hit the dash. 

“What?! What?!”

“Look”, Ray whispers as she points to the masked and blacked-out man standing outside the vault. He’s definitely not running G6. Most likely waiting to rob someone trying to make some honest money. Jokes on him.

“Yeah. I see him.”

“I have an idea. Pull around the corner.”

All worries about her health fade to the background as excitement for snatching up this poor sack of yuck seeps in. 

“Wait here.”

“But–”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Ray squeezes his hand before hopping out of the car. She double-checks the wrench tucked into her waistband. I’ll need to be quick. The guy’s likely armed and quick to draw. Most gang members are. Which means so is she. Ray skips down the battered sidewalk, the concrete scarred from stray bullets and high-speed car wrecks. Los Santos, a city of psychopaths and high-risk crime, raised her. Any danger around the corner couldn’t be more fearsome than her. 

“Hi,” she sings out, fluttering her fingers. 

“Hey, beautiful.”

The dark-haired stranger raises his eyebrows as she saunters toward him. Flipping a braid over her shoulder, she crosses her arms over her chest and presses against her boobs to make them look bigger.

“Can you help me?”

He tucks his phone back into his pocket, giving her his full attention. As he should.

“There’s a lot of ways I could help you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet.” 

Ray grits her teeth into a pained smile. Thank god for this mask so this piece of shit can’t see.

“You see, I was working here earlier and I think I dropped my phone. Have you seen a phone?”

“I haven’t. But if you give me your number I can call it. And maybe we can go on a date later. As repayment, you know?”

“Oh my god! That’s such a good idea.”

She bats her eyelashes. Count your days, buddy.

“You ready?”

Noticing the gun in his waistband as he pulls his phone back out, Ray takes in a steadying breath. Keep it together.  

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

“Two-four-zero-two-five-seven-put your hands up.”

Ray whips out her wrench, holding it tightly. 

“Wha–oh, shit.”

Chatterbox follows her lead and drifts the car around the corner to put the trunk toward them. The stranger raises his arms in surrender to the pretty clown. 

“C’mere, sweetheart. ”

Ray’s voice drips with sarcasm as she grabs the gun out of his waistband.

“You’re gonna be a good boy and get in the trunk. Then nothing too bad will happen to you.”

“Y’all better not take my fucking gun. I’m with the Besties. You don’t wanna fuck with us.”

“Oh! The Besties? Then you know one of my besties Kevin. I’m sure there won’t be an issue. Now get in the fucking trunk.”

“C’mon you gangbanger sack of yuck. We ain’t gonna hurt ya. Yet.”

“Hurry, hurry,” Ray trills. 

The guy begrudgingly gets in the trunk, curling up to fit his long legs in the cramped space. 

“We’re gonna go have some fun.”

“What’s your name, gangbanger?”

“What’s it to you?”

Ray twists around in her seat, gun in hand. 

“Why are you being so grumpy? Relax. Nothing’s gonna happen to ya. We just need a hostage for like fifteen minutes.”

“I have things to do today, bitch.”

“Excuse yuckin’ me?”

Chatterbox slams on the brakes and looks in the rearview mirror at the masked bandit. 

“You better watch how you talk to my queen.”

Cheeks flushing pink, Ray giggles.

“It’s okay, Chatty. I am a bitch. A bad bitch.”

“You’re not a bad yuck, Cups. You don’t even got a record yet. You’re not bad. Or a yuck.”

“No, no. Chatty. A bad bitch means like… you’re super hot.”

He clears his throat and nervously pulls on his ear.

“O-oh. So…should I call you that?”

“You think I’m hot, Chatty?”

Ray smiles at his anxious squirming. As long as they’ve been together, Chatty always gets antsy when it comes to direct compliments. It’s fucking adorable. He drums his palms on the steering wheel as they zip through traffic to the SouthSide.

“We-Well…I…”

“So you don’t think I’m hot?”

“I didn’t yucking say that!”

“I can’t believe you don’t think I’m a bad bitch, Chatty,” she blubbers.

“I think you’re yucking beautiful, alright?!”

“You guys are weird.”

“Shut up!”, they yell in unison. 

“Well, as long as you agree that I’m the hottest woman you’ve ever seen, maybe I’ll forgive you.”

“Forgive me? For what?!”

“So you don’t agree?”

“Cups. I agree. Jesus yuck.”

“Oh! Okay, good.”

Ray puts the gun back in her lap, removing it from the side of Chatty’s head. She’d never actually shoot him. At least, I don’t think I would. Shooting him would mean he could die. And he’s not allowed to die. Dying is illegal. She turns back to their captive.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, buddy. When we get there, you’re gonna get out of the truck and walk directly inside. You’re gonna stand there with your hands up and not cause me any problems. If you do cause me problems, I’ll cut your dick off and make you eat it. Got it?”

“Got it, you fucking freak.”

“Good!”

Chatterbox mumbles something under his breath, but she doesn’t have time to ask him about it as they pull up to the cash exchange. 

“Okay! We’re here,” she smiles.

Their hostage scoots out of the car when Chatty pops the trunk, glaring at the clowns inside. Waiting for them at the front door are Kirk, Twinkles, and Taco. The colorfully dressed boys stand in a line, holding a large round watermelon in front of them as they wobble side to side. 

“We’re the Melon Boys,” Kirk exclaims.

“Cuz we got melons and we’re juicy as hell,” Taco adds.

“Ya!” Twinkles giggles.

“Oh my god,” Ray groans, “They’re so cute.”

“And ‘cuz they’re round,” Sooty laughs as she approaches from the back.

“Twinkles isn’t round.”

“What. The. Yuck,” Chatterbox shakes his head.

“I already did the typing hack at the back,” Sooty brags. “We’re just waiting for you two to do the memory one. Chatty said you could do that one,” she nods at Ray.

“You guys already started? We didn’t even have the hostage here yet!”

“We figured if the cops showed up we’d just pretend the watermelons were a hostage,” Kirk shrugs.

Taco smiles, “We were gonna stack them up like a snowman.”

“That would have been so funny. Too bad we brought this asshole instead.”

Ray bumps the hostage’s shoulder with his gun. Kirk’s eyes light up.

“Where’d you get the grip-skiddly?”

“It’s his.”

“And we’re gonna give it back,” Chatterbox reminds them.

Kirk and Taco overlap in their protests, but Chatty remains firm. And he’s right. They should give it back. The clowns do far better with melee weapons as is; giving them a gun could prove deadly not only to others but also to themselves. Their propensity for self-sabotaging is impressive.

“I guess.”

Rolling his eyes, the hostage shakes his head in annoyance.

“You guys are fucking clowns.”

“Ain’t you the smart one,” Kirk scoffs.

“Figure that out all by yourself?” Sooty starts a goofy dance.

“Twinkles thinks this guy has a stick up his butt.”

“I ain’t no fucking clown,” Taco grumbles.

“You are right now, Taco!”

“You’re definitely a clown,” Ray smirks.

“Hey!” Taco raises a wrench in pseudo-protest.

“Enough yappin’. You ready to hack, Cups?”

“Um…”

“You got this!” Sooty encourages.

“C’mon. Cups, you got this. You done it before.”

“It took me so many tries though.”

“It’s okay if you fail, Hiccups. We’re all dumb as hell. You got more of a chance of completing it than we do,” Kirk shrugs.

“But what if I fail…”

“We’re just here to have fun, Cups. We don’t give a yuck about the money.”

“I kinda give a yuck,” Taco interjects.

“You can’t even do it, Taco. Shut up.”

“Can too, Rachel!”

“Cups. I say you gotta at least try. Please?”

Chatty gently touches her elbow, honey-dipped eyes calming the screaming doubt in her mind. 

“I’ll try. But if I fail…”

“We kill the hostage!”

“Okie!”

“Wait…what?”

Skipping to the back, Ray leaves the gun with Kirk as she prepares herself to hack. Back in her time being deep in CG, before the collapse, she loved to hack. The thrill of the cops rushing to free the hostage. The mental workout of the hack. The flood of ecstasy when she manages to bypass the security. It’s almost better than sex. Almost. For a long time, it was. Before him. Ray fixes her braids and straightens her mask. No time to think about that shit now. Time to focus. Chatty preps the laptop that the boys stole from the electronic store a few weeks ago. It’s come in handy since then. The clowns love to do as many silly getaways from their bank robberies as possible, more interested in the challenge than the money. In truth, it took some getting used to. CG prioritized getting the money out, then the boys. The clowns always attempted to get their boys out first, but they also found it equally as funny to yuck each other over. Ray avoided getting caught thus far since her return. Today would be a good day to yuck that up. She wants to go to jail with Chatty for the first time. He’ll protect her. Even the coldest jail cell would feel safe with him there. He’d keep her warm.

“Alright, Cups. You got this.”

She cracks her knuckles. 

“I need it to be quiet, Chatty, so you need to shut up.”

“I didn’t even…okay. I’ll go out front.”

“Thank you!” she calls after him.

His existence is too loud. Too much of a distraction.

The door creaks as he walks back out to the other clowns. Red and blue lights flash throughout the building. Cops are here. Okay. I gotta do this. I can do this. Definitely. Ray takes a deep breath through her nose. She begins typing on the laptop, sorting through the passwords. God, how am I going to remember these? A harsh beep lets her know she ran out of time. 

“Fuck!”

She glances over her shoulder through the glass. Chatty catches her eye and she shakes her head. He spins his fingers to signal her to try again. Reluctantly, she nods. I can…I can… Squatting down as the murmur of voices in the other room signals clown-gotiations, Ray squeezes her eyes close. Okay. Okay. Just one more try. Surely. Just one. She starts again. Another harsh beep.

“Shit!” 

Ray punches the metal door in frustration. Hearing the commotion, Chatty barges into the room. 

“Cups. Don’t.”

“I’m so fucking close,” she sighs through gritted teeth. 

He takes her now beet-red hand in his and presses a masked kiss to her knuckles. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, please.”

Ray’s heart skips a beat. The gentle command sends a quiet shiver down her spine. 

“I’m sorry…”

“You can do this, Cups. I know you can. And if you don’t, it’s no biggie.”

“I don’t want to fail.”

“Take a deep breath. Who gives a yuck?”

“I give a yuck.”

Chatty takes her face in his hands, forcing her to look up at him.

“Do you remember our talk in the mines?”

“How could I forget?”

“Your worth is not in your ability to hack, or drive, or do anything. Your worth is in how yucking cool and fun you are. Just by being you.”

“You’re full of bullshit but I love you for it.”

“It’s not bullyuck.”

“You didn’t say ‘I love you’ back.”

“Cups.”

“Chatty.”

“I love you too. Now hack the yucking door.”

“One more try.”

“One more.”

Ray shakes out the nerves and bounces lightly on her toes. She settles in, sifting through the security codes on the laptop. Just as the timer hits zero, she selects the correct code. A bright ding announces her success.

“I did it!” she screams, jumping to her feet.

“Atta girl!”

Throwing her arms around Chatterbox, Ray presses her masked lips to where his reside under the mask. He picks her up and spins her around as she squeals in excitement. He nuzzles his clown nose against her bunny one. 

“Told ya,” he whispers.

“I couldn’t do it without you,” she breathes.

A light rap on the glass snaps them out of their soft embrace. They hop back from each other, adjusting their clothes. Chatterbox gives Kirk a thumbs-up as Kirk wags his fingers at the lovebirds. Taco giggles at his phone.

“He took a picture of us,” Ray realizes. 

“Want me to beat the yuck out of him?”

“Maybe he’ll send it to Zolo to piss him off.”

Both their phones ding with a notification from Twatter.

@Taco_Prince 

they be yuckin’

[photo of their masked kiss]

Or not.

“TACOOCHIEEEE.”

Ray bursts out of the back room and into the front lobby, chasing Taco around with her wrench. 

“Come back here you little shit. You’re gonna get me in trouble with Vinny!”

“I think it’s cute,” Sooty soothes.

“Real schpiel,” Taco laughs, “Not my fault y’all are yuckin’ around in public.”

“It was a hug!”

“Looked like a little more than that to me,” Kirk pokes.

“Door’s open!” Chatty distracts them.

Sooty bumps her hip into Ray’s as the boys run back to collect the money. 

“Love ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of, Cups. I think it’s cute.”

Ray blushes, thankful for the mask. 

“I’m not ashamed, Sooty. I just didn’t think anyone was paying attention. It’s scary to be soft like that.”

“I get it. Can’t let the boys see you ‘weak’. But love isn’t weakness.”

Sooty gives Ray’s arm a gentle squeeze. It helps to soothe the pounding in her chest.

“Takes a lot of strength to be vulnerable. It’s good you can do that with Chatty.”

“Thanks, Sooty.”

“Can I say something?” the hostage adds.

“NO,” the girls assert.

“Fine. Fuck.”

A cop approaches the front door, gun drawn. Ray raises her wrench to the victim’s head.

“Easy there model lady,” the woman commands in a dry tone.

Hair-braided back into black semi-pigtails, the cop’s eyes fiercely survey the room.

“Onfire. How’s it going you sack of yuck,” Chatterbox greets as he comes up behind them.

“Chatterbox. You will surrender the hostage to us.”

“We don’t want him. You can have that piece of yuck.”

“He’s been really gross,” Ray whines.

“He looks gross,” Onfire agrees, “Grosser than Kirk.”

“Hey!”

“We’re ready!”

“Readier than a dog with a bone and the perfect place to bury it, I’ll tell you what.”

“Twinkles is ready!”

“If you clowns get me caught, I’m gonna beat your yucks.”

“Give the guy his gun back, Kirk.”

“Awww, do I gotta?”

Ray moves closer to Kirk and whispers, “I’m pretty sure it’s stolen. Let the guy take the charge.”

“You’re so smart, Hiccups. How’d you end up with a sack of shit like Chatty?”

She giggles, “Watch it. That’s my man you’re talking about.”

“He was my man first, I’ll have you know.”

“You girls will have time to fight over Chatty later,” Sooty belly laughs.

“Twinkles thinks Chatty loves him the most.”

“What the yuck…”

“Watch it, Tinkles! You’re already on my list.”

Ray points an accusatory finger at Twinkles as the clowns rush out to the RV parked out front. 

“You guys know the drill,” Chatty announces, “Musical cars!”

“What?” she laughs nervously.

“I’m gonna be the last motherfucker standing,” Taco brags.

“We’ll see about that, gangbanger,” Chatty’s eyes sparkles as the RV revs to life under Kirk’s lead foot. 

“Wheeeeeew,” Kirk yells as they speed out from the cash exchange.

“What does he mean, ‘musical cars’?” Ray looks to Sooty. 

“Don’t worry, Cups. You ever played musical chairs before?”

“N-no…”

Picking at her fingernails, Ray studies her hands. Sometimes it’s embarrassing how little she knows. The orphanage she grew up in favored work over play, and these games everyone around her seems to understand are a mystery. 

“It’s not a hard game. Even your dumbass could understand it,” Taco calls from the seat in front of her.

“Shut up!”

Ray kicks the seat in front of her, tears stinging in her eyes. Chatty glances back in his seat as if hearing her thoughts.

“We stashed a bunch of cars around the city and we gotta try to get to them.”

“Each car has fewer seats so you gotta try to make it to the end,” Sooty finishes.

“Like a race?”

She swallows the lump in her throat.

“Kinda,” Chatty sympathizes.

He’s no stranger to feeling left out of conversations. His childhood deprived him of a proper education too, leaving him even more naive than her. In some ways, it’s good though. Not knowing is sometimes easier. What’s easier isn’t always what’s better. His words echo in her mind. 

“So I just gotta try to make it to the next car?” 

“There you go, Rachel.”

“That’s not my name!”

“We’re coming up on the first car!”

Ray grabs onto her seatbelt as Kirk drifts the RV around Legion Square. A bright red pick-up comes into view. 

“There’s the next car. Get ready to run!”

Lurching forward as a cop car slams into them from behind, Ray unbuckles and braces herself between the seats. 

“Go! Go! Go!” Kirk booms.

She jumps out of the still-moving RV and tucks into a bracing roll. Rough concrete slams against her soft flesh in an abrasive kiss, like when Chatty doesn’t shave for a whole day. Grunting, she takes off in a sprint when back on her feet. Ray vaults into the back of the pickup where Kirk, Taco, Chatty, and Sooty wait for her. Twinkles takes off running in the opposite direction. The cops ignore the green-haired clown, focusing on the main vehicle. At least some of the money is safe.

“Hold on!” Kirk whoops.

“Let Ray up front,” Chatty worries.

“No time, Chatty. I’ll be fine!”

“She’s a tough cookie,” Sooty affirms.

As if testing that statement, a cop car swipes at the overconfident clowns. The truck tips and Ray grabs onto the edge of the bed. Her body slams down against the harsh metal as Kirk rights the truck. That’s gonna bruise. Ray grabs a rock from the bed and chucks it at the offending cop. It shatters their windshield and causes them to swerve into a light post.

“Take that yuckbag!”

“Good yuck, Cups! You okay?” Chatty calls from the cab.

“I’ll be fine,” she yells. 

“Next car is at the top of the red garage,” Kirk bellows over the wind whipping around her.

“Pit!”

Kirk expertly dodges the attempted pit and sticks his middle finger out the window. 

“Nice try fuckers!”

“Kirk you betta’ get us to this next car,” Taco warns.

“I’m working on it, OG.”

“Kiiiiirk,” Ray squeals as they take a corner too fast.

“Careful!”

Chatty punches Kirk in the shoulder, starting a catfight between the two clowns. 

“Boys,” Sooty snaps.

“If she gets hurt,” Chatty grumbles.

“Settle down, ProtectiveBox.”

“Get us to that fucking car,” Ray yelps as the truck slams against the side of the garage.

“I’m trying,” Kirk whimpers. 

The truck screeches to a halt and they sprint to the Glendale parked near the jump to the building down below. 

“Pitstop!”

“Good luck!” Kirk screams as he takes the jump with the pickup. 

Chatty jumps in the driver’s seat, followed closely by Ray, Sooty, and Taco.

“You guys are fucking insane,” Taco laughs as they dodge the cop cars and start the drive back down the garage ramps. 

“We’re not insane,” Chatty starts.

“We just act like it.”

“Hell yeah,” Sooty hoots.

“Wooooo!”

Chatterbox sends them off the highway and careening to the roadway below. 

“Wicked!”

Ray’s eyes shine like the moon, light radiating from deep in her soul. Moments like these remind her why she’s still alive. Why she keeps fighting to stay here instead of running away. Surrounded by people she loves and who love her, doing the craziest bullshit, Ray feels her whole body buzz with an insatiable energy. They race through the winding highways as more and more sirens fill the air behind them.

“Next car is coming up! Everybody get ready.”

“I’m leaving your ass in the dust, Rachel.”

“Yeah, right.”

The Glendale’s engine groans under the strain of the chase. 

“C’mon baby, just a little further,” Chatty begs.

“That’s what she said,” Sooty chuckles.

“Sooty!” Ray squeaks.

“Well…”

“Not another word, Mr. Box.”

“Ewwww,” Taco whines. “I’m telling Vinny.”

“You better not.”

Ray reaches from the passenger seat to swat at Taco. They start to play fight, swiping at each other. Up ahead a Club car sits with its trunk open.

“You yucks better knock it off! The car is just up here.”

“Did you just call me a yuck?”

“You’re in trouble,” Sooty teases.

“Cups.”

“No, it’s fine. I see how it is.”

Ray doesn’t attempt to run to the next car. How dare he. Calling me a yuck. I’ll get away by myself. She pouts as she moves to the driver’s seat, all the cops flying past her to go after Chatty. Except for Onfire.

“Stop right there, pretty lady,” she calls over the loudspeakers.

“Make me,” Ray flips her off.

Her phone starts to ring with Chatty’s tone, and she quickly declines the call. I’ll show him. Slamming her foot to the gas, Ray speeds in the opposite direction. Onfire follows close behind.

“Halt, beautiful woman.”

“No!”

Ray narrowly dips into an alleyway and Onfire clips the back of the Glendale. The wide car wedges between the two buildings towering over them. Fuck. Ray leaps out of the car and slides over the hood, breaking out into a sprint as her feet hit the pavement. As fast as she runs, Onfire stays tight on her heels.

“Stop. Freeze.”

“Freezing is for popsicles.”

Another cop car pulls in front of the next alley, blocking her path. Shit. Of course. Ray dodges a tackle from the approaching officer. Onfire easily jumps over the man sprawled out on the ground. She’s like the fucking Terminator. Turning down another street, Ray hip-checks a trash bin.

“Ow! Shit.”

She stumbles, her disrupted balance sending her into an unstoppable spiral. Shards of broken concrete press into her knees and forearms. Onfire’s knee presses into her back as she wrestles for the bunny-masked girl’s arms.

“Give me your perfectly sculpted arms.”

Ray fights back, struggling with all her might under the well-trained officer.

“Leave my perfectly sculpted arms alone!”

She manages to break free just as the familiar growl of a Club echoes off the surrounding buildings. Thank god.

“Help!”

Her knight in pin-striped armor wastes no time saving her from the ebony-haired dragon. Chatty tackles Onfire off of her, grappling with the fierce officer. They struggle on the ground for a moment. Ray crawls away, watching with sharp eyes for any need to step in. But he somehow manages to handcuff Onfire to a dumpster in the scuffle. Springing to his feet, Chatty practically sweeps Ray off the ground. Grabbing her hand, he yanks her toward their scratched and smoking chariot.

“Get in!”

Chapter Text

The bite of the cold metal against her wrists contrasts the warmth of Chatty’s pinky linked around Ray’s as her skin sticks to the leather of the cop car’s backseat. Sweat glistens on her forehead under the cheap plastic bunny mask, wisps of hair slicked to her temple in the summer heat. Despite his best efforts, Chatterbox’s smoking Club didn’t hold up against the barrage of pit maneuvers that followed their escape from Onfire’s grasp. Of course he came back to me. The thought tingles in the back of her mind, bringing a sweet smile to her peach lips. No matter how hard she pushes, Chatty never abandons her. Not even for something as silly as a police chase. And she pushes. I can’t help it. It’s like she needs to challenge his resolve at every possible opportunity. Everyone leaves. Eventually. When he finally gets tired of her bullshit, she can look in the mirror and say “I told you so.” So she tests him. Again. And again. But he hasn’t failed once yet. Even when she starts to annoy herself, he’s still there banging on the walls of her self-constructed padded room to be let in. 

“C’mon, Jimbo. I never knew you were so boring,” Ray whines. 

“You gonna take that, Dumbo?”

With Chatterbox there, Ray can’t fall back on her usual method of getting out of bullyuck–flirting. That leaves her the only other reasonable option of being as obnoxious as fucking possible. Add Chatty to that? They’re insufferable. They’ve been daring Jimbo to do all sorts of stuff for the past ten minutes of their drive toward MRPD from Vinewood Hills. He almost gave in twice to requests for crazy jumps or letting them trap Taco in a set-up. But Jimbo is just as hard-headed as the two menaces in his backseat.

“Why the fuck would I care what a bunny thinks about me?”

“Because this bunny thinks you’re even more of a scaredy bitch baby than Peters is.”

“Ooooo,” Chatterbox laughs, giving her pinky a reassuring squeeze. 

“Now you’ve gone too far,” Jimbo chuckles.

“So then let us gooooo,” Ray pouts.

“Why would I do that when I can lock you up for a week and torment you at the prison?”

“Lame.”

“That’s me.”

“Stinky. Boring.”

“You’ve got it.”

Ray sighs, adjusting herself to look out the window as they pull into the police station. So annoying. Of course, we get picked up by the ONE cop immune to my charm. A month ago might have been a different story. When organizing ‘Yes to Chatty’ Day, Ray contacted Jimbo to help torture her boyyuck with a funny game of hide and seek with alcohol and tazers. Most of the city didn’t know how deeply involved with the clown she was back then. Things are different now. Chatty leans in close to her despite the uncomfortable restraint of his hands cuffed behind his back. 

“Welcome to my third home,” he teases. 

“Is this the only home you have where I gotta come in handcuffs?”

“Uh…I-I…um…”

“He doesn’t handcuff you at the Funhouse?”

“Well, I don’t show up in handcuffs at the Funhouse, Jimbo. Those come later.”

“Ha! Nice.”

“Shut up, Dumbo.”

“I ever tell you about the time he gagged himself, Jimbo?”

“What?!”

“Dumbo doesn’t want to hear about that, Ray ,” Chatterbox grits his teeth.

“I kinda fucking do.”

“It was really funny,” Ray giggles.

“It wasn’t that funny.”

“The story starts with a betrayal.”

“Excuse yuckin’ me?”

“Oh, this sounds good.”

“Chatty detailed my car without my permission. It was hideous , Jimbo. It was like…an orangey-red with mustard-colored wheels. He put money rims on my precious Gresley. Can you believe the audacity? ” 

“Oh my god,” Jimbo cackles, “That takes balls, Chatterbox.”

Ray’s voice dips low, “Don’t encourage him.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“C’mon, it was funny!”

“It wasn’t funny. It was tragic. ” 

Ray furrows her eyebrows to emphasize the dramatic seriousness of the situation. Jimbo laughs at her visage in his rearview mirror. Leaning in closer to the protective bars between the front and back seats, she continues the epic tale.

“So I had to get him back, of course.”

“Of course,” Jimbo echoes.

Chatty rolls his eyes and shifts in the seat away from her. You bastard. Now I’m definitely telling the story.  

“I called Kirk to help make sure Chatty made it to the Funhouse. To lure Chatty in I called him saying I had a surprise for him. I dressed all sexy in this red top and mini skirt with one of his masks to ensure he wouldn’t leave. Because who could deny ME?”

Jimbo’s eyes flit to Chatterbox in the mirror, met with an icy glare that promised injury if he spoke out of line. Ray watches in amusement. She thrives on Chatty’s jealousy; it sparks an intense feeling of being wrapped in the biggest fluffiest blanket of desire. In his eyes, even the most improbable threat to his position at her side needs to be dealt with using a nuke of his anger. She’s his. So entirely that it scares her sometimes. No one else could love her the way Chatty does. The way he sees her, an impossibility in a sea of self-obsessed men. He worships her with each waking breath, making her feel every bit of the queen he claims her to be. That she’s only recently decided herself to be. 

“So Chatty comes up the stairs, locks the bedroom door like I instruct him, and sits on the bed. I hand him this gag and tell him to put it on. AND HE DOES.”

A bright smile flashes across her face as she relives the memory. It was at that moment that she realized how blindly he’d follow her lead, any idea a good one. 

“Chatterbox there’s no way you gagged yourself.”

Chatty grumbles half-heartedly, fighting back a smile at the absurdity of his own actions.

“It gets better, Occifer Jimbo.”

“Oh fuck.”

Ducking her head down as she slides out of the cop car’s backseat, Ray continues as Jimbo guides her through the sterile police station. Goosebumps cover her arms as the harsh air conditioning nips at her bare skin. Another cop with two cigarettes hanging from his mouth passes by them in the hallway.

“Loki, can you grab Chatterbox from my car?”

“Oh hell yeah, my brother!”

“Your…huh?”

“Anyway, you were saying, Ray?” Jimbo prods.

“Oh, yeah! So he gags himself, blindfolds himself, and then lets me fucking zip-tie his hands.”

“He’s so fucking stupid. You hear that, Chatterbox?” Jimbo calls as they hear the swing of the doors. “You’re a genuine dumbass.”

“Says the guy named Dumbo.”

“As I was saying,” Ray clears her throat. 

The boys quiet down and settle in for the rest of the story as they go through the motions of in-processing. Ray continues to yap about their slick and dangerous drive up Mt. Chilliad and the hilarious misadventure of finding him with Kirk. A lockpick catches her eye on the messy desk. Chatterbox shifts closer to it and a knowing smile passes behind her steely eyes. Laughter echoes in the halls of the processing cells as she details the way she found him.

“So Kirk and I find the car first. I drive Kirk’s car and he drives mine, but I end up crashing out right by Chatty. I find him ass-up, just throwing it back in the afterlife.”

“I had like seventeen yucked-up bones. I couldn’t control how I landed.”

“Throwing it back,” Loki and Jimbo cackle.

“It was yucked up!”

“It was hilarious,” Ray beams. 

Chatterbox shakes his head, eyes creased into a smile behind his mask. Her chest warms at the memory of the escapades that followed their initial trip down Mt. Chilliad. The bickering with each trip up and down the mountain as they tried to rescue her car certified to her that he was the one. With each gentle nudge away, he pulled her in closer. Weaker men in her life couldn’t stand up to the pressure. They always dished it out but could never take it. Chatty was different. He seemed to revel in her toxic pushback, a challenge willingly taken on.

The cops guide the pair into the big holding cell, finally relieving them of their handcuffs. Ray rubs at her wrists. She hadn’t noticed the stinging pain before, distracted by her mission to distract Jimbo while Chatty stole the lockpick from the desk.

“So in conclusion, Chatty is funny.”

“Funny-looking,” Jimbo teases.

“What do you mean? He’s very handsome.”

Ray bumps her hip against Chatty’s as he shyly scratches at the back of his neck. His hand clutches the lockpick behind his back, waiting for the cops to leave the room. 

“All Skylizard men are handsome,” Loki grins.

“I’m not a yucking Skylizard,” Chatty yells.

“I’m gonna make him a Mond.”

“Wha-huh?”

“Ew.”

Linking her arm around Chatty’s, Ray bats her eyelashes. 

“He’s stuck with me forever.”

“You’re stuck with me. ”

“Gross,” Jimbo grimaces, “What happened to you, Chatterbox?”

“I’m a gangbanger now.”

“Ya. He bangs me.”

Ray leans over and plants an exaggerated kiss on Chatty’s cheek. Thank god he picked up on me trying to get rid of these fucking cops. The longer they have to hide the lockpick, the more likely it’ll get found. Jimbo and Loki exchange an uncomfortable glance. That’s right guys. Take a good hard look. Sometimes the best way to hide something is by having it in plain sight. Not that the clown couple are plain. Their flashy outfits provide the perfect cover for their sticky fingers. 

“On that note, we’re gonna go discuss your charges. We’ll be right back,” Jimbo cringes.

“Hurry back,” Ray lilts. 

Chatty and Ray stay frozen in their obnoxious display of affection until the squeak of the officers’ shoes fades down the hall. They burst into chittering laughter once the coast is clear.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe you got it.”

Bouncing up and down on her toes, Ray’s molten eyes bubble with excitement like lava. Chatterbox puffs out his chest. 

“What can I say, Cups? I’m a god.”

Light dances in his honey-flecked eyes just as the fireflies waltz through the fields of the Funhouse. I love you. Ray punches his shoulder as the overwhelming feeling in her chest threatens to suffocate her.

“You called me a yuck,” she pouts.

“Cups.”

“You did.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been acting like a yuck.”

“Ex-CUSE me?”

Ray knows he’s teasing, but the opportunity to start a fight is too tempting. Too delicious. Besides, it’s hot when he gets mad. 

“You heard me.”

The smirk in his voice sends the warmth in her chest south between her thighs. It’s infuriating the hold he has on her. 

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Box, that when we get out of here, you’re in so much trouble.”

“Yeah?”

He takes a step closer, the lockpick still gripped tightly in his fist. She steps back, the cold bars of the cell now pressed into the tanned skin of her shoulders. A hot flush spreads across her cheeks as her eyes challenge him.

“What are you gonna do, Cups?”

“Knock you upside the head with my wrench. Put you in the hospital for a fucking week for talking to me like this.”

Her heart thuds against her chest, breath quickening as he takes another step closer. Eyes dark and focused like a wolf eyeing his prey, Chatterbox raises the lockpick to her neck. The cold metal scratches against her fragile skin. He draws a line up to under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. 

“You do that anyway, Cups.”

His voice, low and husky, sends a shiver down her spine. She coils, poised to strike. Her long nails serve a purpose beyond fashion; they make for excellent weapons when necessary.

“What are you gonna do, Chatty? Talking a whole lot of shit for a clown behind bars.”

“You remember what I told you?”

“You tell me a lot of things. In fact, you never shut up.”

He chuckles darkly.

“Says the yapper queen herself.”

“What did you tell me?”

“What did I say when you wouldn’t yuckin’ tell me what was wrong earlier?”

“I dunno,” she breathes.

I know. 

“I said I’d deal with you later.”

“Oh yeah.”

“It’s later. And there’s no one here to save you.”

“Who said I need saving?”

Echoing his movements with the lockpick, Ray softly drags her nails up his arms. His cocky demeanor falters, bringing a coy grin to her lips. That’s what I thought. He shifts nervously, eyes flicking to the door to check for the officers.

“So how are you gonna punish me, Mr. Box? You gonna take off your mask and kiss me for the cameras? Hm?”

Ray juts her chin toward the security camera in the corner as her hands come to rest on his chest. His heart pounds against her palm in a song written exclusively for her. All for her. Chatty clears his throat, lowering the lockpick from against her skin.

“Um…I-I don’t…”

“Don’t be shy now, Chatty,” she hisses, ashen eyes ablaze.

As much as she loves Chatty taking control, she can’t make it too easy for him. What would be the fun of that? The back and forth stokes the fire flickering in her gut, the growing heat between her legs. Ray bites her lip as she walks her fingers up his chest to his neck. They dance underneath his mask, teasing at the dark brown hair at his nape. His chocolate eyes roll back as she scratches at his scalp.

“Cups,” he warns in a tentative growl.

“You gonna show them I’m yours? Hm?”

“No one gets to see you like that except me.”

“Then how you gonna me punish me? I’m waiting,” Ray pouts. 

Her breath catches in her throat as he leans in, his mask tickling her ear.

“By doing nothing.”

“Wha-wait, what do you mean?”

Chatterbox backs away from her, twirling the lockpick between his fingers. While the mask hides it, Ray can feel the confident smirk lurking behind the latex grin. 

“You can’t just–this is ridiculous,” she huffs.

She crosses her arms over her chest, prepared to throw a full-blown tantrum. Of fucking course. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. For a clown who knew virtually nothing about sex when she met him, Chatty was becoming far too powerful. Each late night and early morning spent with tangled limbs and love-drunk kisses molds the eager clown into her perfect match. He already made her weak before they crossed that line. Now, this clown. This man. Ray squints her eyes, tapping her foot impatiently. 

“You. You wouldn’t dare.”

Chatterbox leans his back against the white-painted brick wall across from her, continuing to fiddle with the lockpick. 

“Ya think?”

He knows. He knows this will piss me off. Well, two can play that game.

“I see how it is, Chatty.”

“Do ya?”

“Mhm.”

“Good,” he narrows his eyes, “Good.”

They stare each other down, fingers and toes tapping in anticipation of the other breaking down. Of running to each other’s arms. But if there’s one thing the pair share, it’s their hard-headed unwillingness to back down from a challenge. And there’s no more ultimate a challenge than staying away from their love. 

A creak in the hallway and the approaching footsteps do little to snap them out of their trance–eyes locked on their respective prey, daring the other to make the first move. 

“What the fuck are you guys doing?”

“You yuckin’ blind, Jimbo?”

“Can’t you see we’re doing nothing,” Ray bites through gritted teeth.

“Nothing at all.”

“O–Okay…”

Jimbo and Loki share a confused look, feeling the tension in the room like a rubber band pulled to its brink. Begging for release. 

“So…you guys wanna hear your charges or?” Loki shifts his weight.

The rustle of their uniforms and clumsy questioning do little to distract Ray from her target. She’s going to wear him down. I promise. She’ll get what she wants. I promise. She always does. Her eyelashes flutter as she blinks for the first time in what feels like hours.

“What exactly are you two idiots waiting for?”

“Hurry uuup,” Chatty whines, giving Ray a wink.

She scoffs, never breaking eye contact. 

“Okay, well, you both did the same shit, so…You’re both getting two months for the robbery of a secure institution, fleeing the cops, and–”

“Don’t forget beating up Offiper Onfire, that sack of yuck.”

“Oh, yeah. Chatterbox that gives you an additional two months and a $25,000 fine.”

“Baby yuck.”

“How do you both plead?”

“Guilpy.”

“And you, Ms. Mond?” Jimbo looks to the stern-faced princess of CG and queen of the Clowns.

“What he said.”

The drive to the prison continues the battle. Jimbo and Loki sing along to the radio at the top of their lungs until their voices go hoarse, trying to fill the empty space. Ray stares out the window in silence, her mind screaming with ideas of how to absolutely ruin Chatty’s day. He may be in charge, but she calls all the shots. She knows that. When Chatterbox first asked her to be his queen, before we were even dating mind you, he told her every king needs his queen. Ray whispers ideas into his ear for their kingdom and subjects, twisting his mind until her thoughts are his own. Sometimes it makes her feel guilty, but he practically asked for this. Besides, she only wants what’s best for his family. Their family. 

Her long nails drum against the metal of her handcuffs, percussing along to the discordant concert in the front seats. Chatty begins a quiet beatbox along, unable to resist the siren call of fun. Ray flashes a tiny smile at the clamoring noise in the car. Quick to hide it as Chatty turns to her, she scowls at the light-hearted clown. 

“Why so grumpy?” he teases.

“You know why,” she whispers back. 

“Secrets, secrets are no fun unless you share with everyone,” Jimbo yells over the music. 

“You shouldn’t keep secrets from family,” Loki adds. 

“We aren’t yucking family, Loki.”

“I did the DNA test!”

“If he has a test, Chatty…”

“He’s not my yucking brother,” Chatterbox snaps.

Ray blinks in surprise. He very rarely uses that tone with her. The last time she can remember serious anger it came from their fight about Gigi being in the ICU. And she deserved it if she’s being honest.

“Yikes,” Loki takes a sharp breath in.

“Okay,” she agrees quietly, wide-eyed and shell-shocked. 

The car descends into silence, the radio filling the air with empty words. Tears sting in her eyes, the taste of iron in her mouth as her teeth dig into the inside of her lip. An ache in her chest reminds her of the echoing laughter of the orphanage’s staff. “Do you ever shut up?” they would laugh. “God, you’re so annoying.” The buzz of the prison gate snaps her back to the present moment. Ray takes a slow breath in and out. She catches Chatty digging his fingers into his palms in the corner of her eye, a small crimson stain forming on his now dirt-riddled white gloves. 

“Chatty?”, Ray shifts to face him.

He releases his fists as if unaware that they were clenched in the first place. 

“Hm?”

“We’re here, fuckers.” Jimbo cheerfully breaks the quiet, unaware.

“About time!” Chatty goads, back to his cheerful self.

“Really! Took you guys long enough.”

Jimbo scoffs and rolls his eyes as the criminal couple stroll into the cellblock. Locked in their cells, Ray dramatically sighs and throws herself on the thinly-padded cot.

“You good, Cups?”

“Yeah.”

“I almost got my door open, one sec.”

A loud clang makes her nearly jump out of her skin. He laughs as he peaks around the corner to her cell.

“Still got it.”

“Get me out of here already.”

“I’m working on it.”

Ray stands, hands wrapped to the bars of her enclosure as Chatty fusses with the lock. It clicks and he throws his hands up in victory. Ray breezes passed him, marching out to the yard. The Los Santos Correctional Facility differs from most other prisons in that it’s a lawless land. Instead of strict correctional officers and schedules, the inmates run the institution. Any murders committed within its gates are unpunishable. Any theft? Valid and encouraged. In a world of monsters, it pays to be a nightmare. 

Ray’s eyes, cold as steel, survey the mostly open yard for any friends. Or foes. A few lifers in their bright orange jumpsuits work in haphazard groups around the massive courtyard. Just as she starts toward one of the groups, a hand gingerly grabs her elbow.

“Cups? You can’t just walk away from me like that.”

She shrugs off his touch, still peeved by his earlier outburst.

“And you can’t just yell at me like that.”

Glaring eyes dig sharp claws into the clown shrinking before her. 

“Look, Cups, I–”

A crackle and piercing whine from the overhead speakers interrupt Chatty.

“Ray Mond and Chatterbox to the front gate. Ray Mond and Chatterbox to the front gate.”

She sighs and starts the walk toward the main gate of the prison. 

“Cups.”

“We’ll talk about this later. Let’s see what they want.”

Chatterbox follows reluctantly behind her as Ray strolls to the front gate where Ursula stands waiting for them.

“Hey, guys.”

“Ursula, what’s up?”

“Hi, Ursula.”

Ursula holds up the picnic basket they left behind in Chatty’s club. 

“I brought lunch.”

“How did you know we were here?”

“I practically run the news. Did you think I wouldn’t know about the clowns getting into an epic chase?”

“Good point.”

“Did any other clowns get caught?”

“Kirk and Taco were in visitation earlier. I think Sooty got out and is working on posting bail for everybody.”

“Sooty is an angel.”

“What about Twinkles?”

“Twinkles is fine.”

“Thank yuck.”

“Thanks for the food. I’m actually starved.”

“I put a little something extra down at the bottom.”

“More hiccupcakes?”

“Better.”

Ursula pulls back the fencing to reveal a hole just big enough to slip the picnic basket through. I’ll have to remember that. I think I could slip through there. Ray flashes a grateful smile as she takes the basket.

“Thanks again.”

“Have fun in there.”

“If we kill someone do you want us to call you first so you can get it on tape?”

“I mean…I’m not gonna say no.”

“Alriiight. See ya, Ursula!”

“Bye.”

Chatty takes the picnic basket from Ray’s hand.

“Let me.”

“M’kay. I wanna see what the secret surprise is though.”

“Let’s go find a spot then.”

The pair walk back through the cafeteria to the yard, settling on a spot on the concrete in the shade of a big wall. Ray spreads out the picnic blanket, brushing off some stowaway sand. The rustle of food in the basket as Chatty digs through the freshly baked bread alerts the grumbling pain in her stomach. The long chase and adrenaline of the hack worked up her appetite, leaving her ravenous for Sooty’s delicious food. Chatty’s hand suddenly stops and a grin touches his eyes.

“No yuckin’ way!”

“Show me! Show me!”

Impatiently grabbing the basket, Ray looks to the bottom of the now disorganized mound of food where a glint of brass catches her eye. She squeals.

“Oh my god!”

“We’ll probably need to use them in the next week or so.”

“I’m gonna beat up the biggest guy in here just like I beat up Bovice.”

“I still can’t believe you yucking did that.”

“What can I say, Chatty? I’m a queen.”

“Yuckin’ rights.”

Chatty pulls up the bottom of his mask to dig into a perfectly crafted sandwich, revealing a glimpse of his handsome face. Ray’s eyes pass over the stubble along his jaw. Despite shaving that morning, a shadow has already started to form across his scarred skin. He catches her glimpse, adjusting sheepishly. Ray blinks, snapping herself out of the daze of memories of scratchy kisses. 

“You gonna share the food or not?”

“Help yourself, Cups. I ain’t stopping ya.”

Fishing out a Doodle Strudel, Ray scarves down the sweet handpie before tackling a HappySong Sub. Chatterbox shakes his head in amazement at her hunger. Years of neglect taught her to enjoy the good stuff when it’s there, but it also instilled an intense fear of being left without. As such, Ray tends to eat as quickly as possible, afraid it may be ripped from her at any moment. Like him. Or her friends. Or her home. Ray swallows the last bite of food, licking her fingers. 

“Sooty shouldn’t be so good at making food. She’s gonna make me fat.”

“It’s hard to get fat with how much yuckin’ running around you do.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, Cups. Just that you can’t stay still. It’s yuckin’ cute.”

“I too can stay still,” she pouts as she readjusts her seat for the fourth time in the ten minutes that had crawled by. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m so cool and chill and calm.”

“Right,” Chatty smiles.

Chatterbox and Ray look up at the sound of crunching pavement. A hoard of lifers approach them, gardening tools in hand. Chatty tenses, rising to his feet and moving slowly closer to Ray.

“Hi, yuckbags. How can we help you?”

“Whatcha guys got there?” one of the grizzled men speaks up.

“Just a lil’ picnic for our jail date.”

“Smells good,” a muscular woman chirps from the back.

“Tastes good too,” Ray makes eye contact with each of the lifers.

Chatterbox slips a hand into his pocket, clutching the lockpick. It’ll make for a good enough weapon in a pinch. Ray picks up the basket and stands. 

“You guys hungry or something?”

“Nobody taught you that sharing is caring?”

No, they didn’t. Ray only learned to be greedy in childhood, clinging to what little good the world offered her. 

“Mmm, maybe if you say please.”

“ Please give us the food before we kill you,” another man growls.

The gaggle of lifers flex, showing off their weapons. Chatterbox touches the small of her back, and she gives him a reassuring smile. This isn’t her first prison fight, and it won’t be her last. Slipping her hand into the basket, she dawns the brass knuckles on her otherwise dainty fist.

“See? Was that so hard?”

She takes a steadying breath before throwing the basket at the leader of the group, food flying out and landing against the bodies of their attackers. A rallying cry from someone in the back of the posse sends the lifers flying forward. Ray brings her fists up to guard her face just like Vinny and Swan taught her as Chatty pulls out the lockpick from his pocket. The first crack of the brass knuckles against some random guy’s jaw sends blood and teeth flying around her. With each calculated swing and dodge, she certifies her ability to stand on her own two feet. Chatty drills the lockpick deep into the shoulder of a lifer sneaking up behind her before picking up the garden rake discarded by a limping escapee. A searing pain in her leg causes her to look down. A rude woman loses her grip on the prison shank that had cut the outside of her thigh. Heartbeat loud in her ears, Ray’s vision turns red as crimson droplets decorate her skin like glistening rubies. Slamming her fist down repeatedly, she turns the person brave enough to penetrate her perceived invulnerability into a mist of hot blood. Time stands still as she goes numb, making quick work of the criminal combatants. 

“Cups.”

Chatty’s voice echoes somewhere far away as she continues to swing her fists.

“Cups.”

He sounds clearer this time, the red haze in her vision thinning. A hand wraps around her wrist, stopping her from throwing another punch.

“Cups.”

Ray drops her fist, chest heaving with labored breath as a screaming ache sets into her bones. A blaring siren comes over the loudspeakers. Distant yelling and the clamor of gates and nightsticks warn of incoming cops. While the prison is lawless, the LSPD jumps at any opportunity to beat in the rowdy criminals when things get out of control.

“Ray?”

Taco’s voice fully breaks her out of her rage-induced trance.

“Y’all better get the fuck up out of here.”

“They’re coming hot and heavy like honey on the fourth of July,” Kirk cautions.

When did they get here?

“C’mon,” Chatty grabs her hand.

She stumbles along behind him, still disoriented from the fight. The stairs clang underneath their desperate footsteps as he guides her to a rooftop with plenty of air conditioning units. Chatterbox ducks behind one of the big metal boxes. Ray blinks, ears ringing from the sirens and loud voices echoing off the brick buildings. 

“Cups,” he whispers.

Not answering, she watches the commotion below. He grabs her arm and pulls her down next to him; she grunts as she hits the concrete.

“Ow! What the fuck was that for?”

“So you don’t get in yuckin’ trouble. You’re hurt enough.”

“I’m fine!”

“No, you’re not.”

Chatty removes his gloves and begins dabbing at the shallow cut on her leg. The stinging pain brings tears to her eyes and she slaps his hand away.

“Stop!”

“What’s your yucking problem, Cups?”

“You! You yelled at me!”

Silence settles over them, the noise of pained grunts and laughter from the courtyard the only exception to the stillness. Chatty removes his mask and rubs his face, wiping away the sweat from the unexpected workout. Blood splatters their clothes, an unidentifiable mixture from both them and their victims. Ray looks away, fussing with shattered gravel that scatters the roof. 

“I–I’m sorry,” he sighs.

“Are you?”

“Yes!”

“Isn’t having family a good thing?”

“Not for me. Bobo didn’t have any family. And my mom left me with my dad so there’s no way I could have some sack of yuck sibling from them. I don’t want any siblings from them. I don’t want to think about or remember that part of my life, Cups.”

“I guess that makes sense. I just…I didn’t know my family at all except for Yuno. And I barely see him. Even though we’re twins we had two totally different childhoods. I wish I was closer to him.”

Chatterbox nods.

“I know you do. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Ray scoots closer to him, laying a hand on his chest.

“I’m sorry too.”

“For what?”

“I dunno,” she laughs, “I just am.”

“Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

She looks down to survey the mess.

“I think this is mostly not my blood.”

“Good. Good.”

“Did I kill that lady?”

Chatty bursts into giggles.

“Cups, you turned her brains into mush.”

“So…”

“She’s very yuckin’ dead.”

“Whoops.”

“She deserved it.”

“Maybe,” Ray chews on her lip.

“You look pretty,” Chatty rests his head against the AC unit.

Blushing, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. The exhaustion must be setting in. Ray feels it too. Her whole body lectures her for the fight, a soreness sure to worsen tomorrow. Especially when they have to sleep on those mangy cots. The commotion below quiets to a murmur as the inmates go back to their daily routines. Cops filter out through the gates, the red and blue lights disappearing out into the desert. 

“We’re in the clear, I think,” she murmurs.

“Ready to rejoin the fun?”

“Not really.”

“Then c’mere.”

Ray twists to sit next to him, head resting on his shoulder. Chatty presses a kiss to the top of her head. She lets out a gentle hum of appreciation, eyes falling heavy.

“Is my shell okay?” she mumbles.

“Lemme see.”

Sitting up as he digs in his pocket, she freezes as a frown forms on his face.

“Oh, yuck.”

“Is it broken?”

“Uh…mostly no.”

Chatterbox reveals the small pink shell, a new chip along its curved edge. Taking the fragile memento in her hand, Ray runs her fingers along the small jagged rim now cut into the otherwise smooth surface. The sharp corners draw a small droplet of blood from her fingertip. She hisses in, sucking the blood from the tiny cut.

“I’m sorry.”

Avoiding eye contact with her, Chatty reaches to put back on his mask.

“It’s okay, Chatty. It’s like us now.”

“What do you mean?” He looks at her quizzically.

“Just a little broken. But still okay.”

“Are we okay, Cups?”

Chatty turns his mask over in his hands.

“I love you.”

Does that answer your question?

“I love you too,” he sighs.

Ray quickly leans in and places a small kiss on his cheek.

“I love you.”

A small smile begins on his face.

“I love you too.”

Another gentle kiss on his other cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Ray presses her soft pink lips to his, lingering just centimeters from his face when they break apart.

“I love you,” she breathes.

He doesn’t answer this time, only pulling her in for another kiss with a firm hand on the back of her neck. Ray melts to his lap as their kiss deepens. It’s not hungry this time. Rather a lazy and sleepy thing, sweet and slow as a summer afternoon. She slips the shell back into his pocket as they take a breath, foreheads resting together. 

“RAYYY,” a thundering voice splinters the tender moment.

Jumping to her feet, Ray adjusts her clothing and smoothes her hair, tucking stray strands into their tidy places. The thick Italian accent sparks a knee-jerk reaction within the clown queen. Heart racing and cheeks flushed, she runs down the stairs. Chatty follows close behind, pulling his mask back on as they run. 

“I’m coming, Vinny,” she calls.

“Get your ass over here!”

His stern tone sends her heart into a tizzy of nerves. Vinny stands near the entrance of the cafeteria, arms folded and tensed across his chest with a sheepish Taco and Kirk on either side of him. Oh, fuck. Slowing her gate, she flashes an uncomfortable smile.

“Hiii, Vinny…”

“What’s up, Dad? ” Chatty teases.

“Don’t you start with me, yuckbag. She had a clean record and you ruined it.”

“Vinny, I’m fine, really.”

“You’re bleeding!” Vinny gestures to her leg.

“Yeah, but I won the fight!”

“It was awesome.”

“Beat the lady who hurt her into a pulp, mushier than a rotten tomato and stickier than molasses,” Kirk tries to help.

Taco nudges him and shakes his head.

“Sorry, OG,” Kirk mutters.

“And I did the hack, Vinny! It only took me a couple of tries.”

“Oh, I saw what you were doing at the bank.”

Taco snickers and Chatty clears his throat, shooting him a fierce glare.

“Oh…that…um…”

Ray fusses with her braid.

“How…did you know we were here?”

“The newspaper. And Taco called me asking for bail.”

“Oh! You don’t have to do that, Vinny.”

“Sooty is working on our bail, Caillou.”

Ray stomps on Chatty’s foot.

“Ow! Yuck!”

Vinny scoffs. 

“Well, Taco told me you guys are having a ‘special’ day or whatever. So I already paid everyone’s bail.”

Her face lights up, glowing from the inside with the unfiltered sunshine of her soul. 

“Really?”

“We’ll talk about your record later.”

Dimming slightly, Ray nods, “Thanks, Binny.”

Chatterbox eyes bounce from Ray to Vinny.

“Yuck her record, Vinny. She had fun.”

She looks down at the ground to hide the small smile from Chatty’s defense.

“This will affect her whole life, yuckbag.”

“It’s okay. Both of you.”

Ray gently touches Chatty’s arm to still him as he goes to bite back again.

“Yuck you,” he mumbles to Vinny.

“We’re very grateful that Vinny paid our bail, right Chatty?”

“Thank you,” he grumbles through his teeth. 

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“Right…right.”

There’s no way it won’t happen again. Now that the dam is broken, nothing is stopping her from causing all sorts of trouble with the cops. And Chatty’s right. She had so much fun. The thrill of the hack, the chase, the bickering. It made her whole body feel so alive. Chatty would never keep her from that. Vinny just wants to protect her, she knows that. But she’s not the young girl who is new to the city anymore. She’s more confident now. I did just obliterate that lady. And all for a little cut with a shank. 

“Thanks again, Vinny! We owe you one.”

Ray plants a grateful kiss on his cheek as she drags a disgruntled Chatty toward the exit. They quickly sign the discharge paperwork and collect their belongings from the front office. Not so great an escape as I had planned, but I’ll take it. Bursting through the front doors, Ray spins around with her hands in the air.

“We’re free!”

“You know what that means, Cups?”

“Hm?”

Chatty’s eyes sparkle, and the answer hits her as he says it.

“Time to roll.”

Chapter Text

Back at the Funhouse, the master bedroom’s bathroom fills with steam and Chatterbox splashes cool water on his face. Ruby-red water swirls down the drain of the sink as he rubs circles on his neck to wash away the flecks of blood that snuck their way below his collar and mask. It’s been a long time. A long time since he had been bathed in blood. The fight in the prison fulfilled a deeply buried and aching need for the stuff. And all because of the now yapping girl spilling all of her ideas behind the shower curtain. 

“Okay, but Chatty, what if—what if we um—what if we lure the cop to somewhere like anywhere really by saying we have free donuts and we can just like…tell them the donuts are on the top of Mount Chilliad.”

“Cups, not all cops like donuts,” Chatterbox smiles. 

Ever since she rolled the dice, landing on five and one, she wouldn’t stop coming up with ideas on how to get a cop to race them down the mountain. From the time they stole a car in the prison parking lot, their whole drive to the Funhouse, and through her whole shower she talked through various creative scenarios. It’s something he loves so desperately about her. All those other yuckbags always make me start everything. Not her though. Ray starts her own fun, unwilling to wait around for everyone else to do what she wants to do. 

“Okay, but like, most of them do. Otherwise, that stereotype wouldn’t exist.”

“What’s a stereo-pipe?”

She giggles, the sound lilting over the shower curtain, bright like the sound of windchimes Windsong always tries to get him to hang on the front porch. He used to hide from noises like that. Like a small wounded animal, he’d keep to the shadows and flinch at loud and unexpected sounds. Now he chases after her light, bathing in her glow and hungry for the sound of her joy. Chatterbox never thought this life would be available to him. It was something for lucky people. People untouched by darkness. People who didn’t know the cut of a knife or the back of a hand. People who didn’t spend their childhood being punished with cages and stew made from human flesh. This was an impossibility. But she didn’t care. Ray wasn’t interested in limitations. 

“Stereotype. It means like…um…a typical way a group of people behave or like…the way they look.”

Chatterbox tilts his head. 

“Like how people think clowns are supposed to do jokes and performances and stuff?”

“Ya! Just like that.”

“Oh!”

An arm pokes out from the side of the shower as the water turns off. 

“Towel please!”

The soft red towel passes behind the curtain before she emerges. Hair pulled into two messy buns on either side of her head glistens with stray drops of water and she flashes him a smile.

“Hi!”

“Hi.”

“Put on some clothes, you harlot. We have a cop to kidnap.”

Chatterbox blushes as he glances down at his bare chest. Scars from all sorts of weapons cover his already pale skin with an assortment of soft pink and white memories. He’d had to strip down to his boxers as blood had stained his suit from the prison fight. Wendy will clean it later. The red-haired clown seemed to love taking care of that kind of stuff. Gave her some weird sense of purpose. At least it keeps her mostly out of my hair. Chatterbox scratches at the back of his neck.

“Well…that was my favorite suit. So what should I wear now?”

“Hey!” Ray playfully pushes his shoulder, “I thought this was ‘Yes to Chatty’ day.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Suspenders,” she winks. 

“Okay!” 

What is it with the suspenders? The day she praised Timothy’s suspenders, Chatterbox rushed to the store to throw together what he thought was an acceptable outfit. He scoots past his queen to the bedroom, her hand brushing against his bicep. A shy smile pulls at his lips as he ducks his head down. Ray’s reassuring touch sends sparks through his chest. No matter how beaten and broken his body and mind, she makes him feel like maybe just maybe he’s worthy of her goodness. From his dresser, he pulls a dusty blue-gray button-down and a pair of dark red pants, folded neatly thanks to Wendy. 

“If we’re not going to use donuts, how do we lure a cop?”

“We could always just kidnap them, Cups.”

“That’s too easy,” she sighs.

“It’s gotta be the first cop you see, so maybe we just decide once we know who it is.”

“M’kay.”

“You know how I feel about plans.”

“Sometimes a plan is good, Chatty.”

“Not enough risk.”

“You and your risk.”

Ray emerges from the bathroom in an oversized black hoodie over her typical red mini skirt that shows off her toned legs. Why do you gotta be so yuckin’ pretty? Chatterbox straightens his bowtie and adjusts the straps of his suspenders. No matter what she wears she’s the most beautiful person in the room. And the whole city knows it. Evident by the shocked reaction to her proud announcement of their relationship to whoever will listen. Evident by the men calling her phone daily to try to get a minute of her time. Evident by… well look at her.  

“Chatty, can you come here a second?”

“Whatcha need?”

A hand on his shoulder as she pulls up her knee-high socks answers, face scrunched in concentration as she tries to balance. It’s no wonder the bunny mask feels so much like the perfect fit for her. Ray’s mannerisms remind him of a wild rabbit every day. Puffed-out cheeks when she thinks through problems, scrunched nose in response to stupid answers, her unending energy, and surprising strength. Straightening up, Ray adjusts his bowtie. 

“Not straight enough?”

“It was just a little to the left.”

“Thanks.”

“What would you do without me?” she coos.

“You'd probably be with someone worthy of your time,” he chuckles.

Clouds darken her stormy gray eyes, sharply dissecting the heaviness behind his laughter. 

“You’re the only man who’s ever been worthy of my time. Don’t piss me off.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He’s not convinced. But he’ll pretend to be. For her. 

“Ready to go?”

“Just gotta fix my hair and put on my shoes.”

“I’ll go get the car fixed up. I think that fence post on the way here did a number on it.”

“M’kay.”

Handing him his mask, Ray doesn’t let go as he takes it. Instead, she yanks him in close to her.

“You better not ever say something dumb like that again, Mr. Box.”

She gives him a begrudging kiss, fire still burning behind her eyes, filling her mind with smoke. She releases the mask and Chatterbox gives her an apologetic smile.

“I only say dumb yuck, Cups. I’m a clown.”

“The best clown.”

A familiar ache in his chest fights the doubt in his mind, an endless battle between the good she forces him to see in himself and the monster he thinks himself to be. I know myself to be. Ray always downplays his past. Not intentionally, he knows, but she has no way of knowing just how much evil roots in the depth of his mind. He trims it back like the hedges and bushes on his property. But the roots twist deep–hardy and unrelenting. Yet from it, she coaxes beautiful flowers, gentle reminders that even from the gnarled foundation of his youth something worthwhile can grow. For her. Chatterbox makes his way down the groaning stairs to the front yard where he finds Twinkles elbow-deep in the front of their stolen car.

“Twinkles?! What the yuck?”

“Oh, Hiii!”

Twinkles waves sheepishly, his hands dark with grease. Looking like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, he slowly closes the hood of the car.

“The yuck are you doing, man?”

There’s a smile behind Chatterbox’s stern tone that renders any of the scolding he’s about to do useless. 

“Twinkles just wanted to help out. Twinkles saw the car from the highway and decided to come fix it. Twinkles still feels bad for making Ray angry.”

“Twinkles you got nothing to be sorry for. I get to do this fun day for her because you made that choice. She’ll forget all about it.”

“Twinkles isn’t so sure.”

“She forgives too easily, Twinkles.”

“That’s true…for other people.”

“Besides, we both kinda owe you our lives.”

“How so? Twinkles doesn’t think so?”

“Please don’t make me say it, Twinkles. You know how.”

“Nooo,” Twinkles giggles mischievously, “Twinkles doesn’t.”

“I told you before. Cups and I never would have found each other if it weren’t for you.”

Chatterbox looks down at the gravel beneath his feet, kicking a loose rock with his toe.

“And we hurt you in the process. We owe you for that. Big time.”

“Twinkles is just happy that you two are happy.”

Twinkles leans in close to Chatterbox and lowers his voice.

“Besides, Twinkles thinks she’s a little too crazy for him.”

Bursting into laughter, Chatty slaps him on the back.

“Alright, Twinkles.”

“Ya,” Twinkles giggles.

“What are you two gremlins laughing about?”

Cups emerges from the front door, a bright smile lighting up her face. The washed bunny mask dangles from her fingertips and sways with the motion of her hips. Oh, yuck.

“Nothing, Cups. Nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” she squints. 

“Twinkles just told Chatty a funny joke!”

“Oh! I wanna hear!”

“I don’t know if you can handle it, Cups.”

“It might make your tummy burst from laughter. And Twinkles doesn’t want you to get hurtied.”

“You calling me weak, Twinkles?”

“Nooo,” Twinkles' eyes widen.

“I think he is. What would you say that for, Twinkles? You think my queen can’t handle a joke?”

“Yeah, Twinkles!”

Eyes darting back and forth between his two friends, Twinkles finds himself once more caught between them. Chatterbox almost feels bad. Almost. But this is too funny to pass up. 

“Okay, Twinkles will tell you the joke. Are you ready?”

Cups bounces on her toes, squealing with excitement.

“I’m so ready!”

Arms crossed, Chatterbox leans against the car, watching in amusement. This joke better be good; otherwise, we’re both gonna be in trouble. A wild rabbit hops closer to them as if to listen in. It makes eye contact with him, nose twitching as it takes in the scene. Cups and Twinkles’ voices become muffled as if speaking behind a wall of some sort. Chatterbox tilts his head. Stars seem to burn behind the bunny’s eyes as if galaxies live inside it. He blinks and the trance is broken, the animal hopping away. 

“Twinkles will tell it again. Why did the human cannonball leave the circus?”

“Because he…um…I don’t get it.”

“Because he got fired!”

Chatterbox snorts, “Like from the cannon, Cups.”

“Oh!”

Her twinkling giggle fills the air, Twinkles puffing his chest out with pride. 

“Twinkles knows lots of funny circus jokes.”

“Maybe you can tell us more later. We got a cop to kidnap.”

“Do you wanna come with, Twinkles? We’re gonna make them race us off Mt. Chilliad!”

“Twinkles will come in a different car so there’s a fast car to escape in.”

“You and your fancy car. Just follow behind us, Twinkles!”

“I like his car,” Ray muses as she slips into the passenger seat, eliciting an eye roll from her clown.

“His car makes it too easy to get away. Besides, I can get away just as good in any car off the street.”

“Wanna bet?”

Oh, Cups. His clown queen always leaps at any challenge, no matter how small and silly. Their competitive nature drives their relationship. It pushes them both to love each other better and better, an endless race to prove themselves. Chatterbox constantly feels five steps behind; how could he ever catch up to her after she made him finally feel visible? He spent his whole life trying to be invisible. No one ever tried to see him anyway. The real him. But she saw him immediately, holding him in her light with a softness never afforded to him except by Tessa. But Tessa didn’t even see him like this. So purely and without judgment. Tessa tries her best. And her best is more than he deserves, that’s for sure. But even Tessa had her blind spots. Ray’s light made hiding any part of him an impossibility and it didn’t scare him anymore. So he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to make her feel every bit of that warmth in return. Because she truly deserves it. Not just because of what she’s done for him either. She’s just so good. 

The crunch of metal silences his thoughts as the car spins out of control. 

“Oh, yuck!”

Twinkles’ laughter emanates from the other car and Chatterbox sits up straight.

“You asked for it, Twinkles,” he yells.

The boys pit each other back and forth across the highway as they race toward the city. Ray braces herself in the passenger seat, laughing maniacly as the car spins and weaves through the afternoon traffic. It’s not long before sirens start up behind the pair. Twinkles takes off, staying out of sight as a backup plan. Pulling off to a side street, Chatterbox stops the car. He looks over to his queen who is busy fastening her bunny mask back to her face. 

“You ready?”

“Are you?”

“Heyyy Chatterdonkey.”

Yuck. Ray groans, letting her head fall back against the seat.

“Why him?”

“This is even better, Cups. We just raise the stakes.”

She perks up at the suggestion, eyes twinkling brighter than any star in the sky. 

“Hey, you sack of yuck. What can we do for you?”

“You and the puke-eyed girl over there are driving pretty recklessly. Gotta slow it down.”

“My bad. My bad. I don’t got a driver’s license.” 

“So then why are you driving this fucking car?”

“I can drive.”

“You’re not gonna make me get out of the car, are ya?”

“I think the fat bitch should drive. You guys gotta hurry. I just took a fat shit on the Funhouse steps.”

“That’s funny, we were just there.”

“Yeah, I waited until you clown fucks left.”

“Great,” Chatterbox growls. 

Cups puts her hand on Chatty’s thigh, trying to soothe the tangible rage starting to burn in his chest. It works. Like every time. Her gentleness brings him back down and calms the eternal storm in his body, a pacifier to the ever-growing tempest spurred by cops, clowns, and gang-bangers alike. 

“Thank you for making sure we’re being safe, Tyler,” she purrs sweetly.

Chatterbox snaps his head to her, biting the inside of his cheek. Exiting the car, she saunters over to the driver’s side and opens the door.

“Chatty will let me drive. Won’t you, Chatty?”

She leans down to meet his eyes, hip popping out to the side. Chatterbox watches Tyler as his eyes follow the curve of his Cups’ back, lingering on the red fabric as it teases the soft flesh of her hip. Anger boils as Chatterbox looks at her, fists clenched.

“Do you trust me?” she whispers.

“With my life,” he grits through his teeth. 

“I got this.”

Her voice is soft, a lullaby he craves every night. Trust her. She knows what she’s doing. “Plot armor,” as they call it, protects her from any serious consequences. She’s got a tongue of silver and has a gift for talking herself out of any situation. Chatterbox doesn’t have that gift. Trust her. She’s your Cups. Taking a deep breath in, he stands up out of the seat. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you can drive, Cups. No problem.”

Slamming his shoulder into Tyler’s as he walks over to the passenger side, Chatterbox feigns apologies.

“Oh! Excuse me. I’m so yuckin’ sorry.”

“You’re gonna be sorry,” Tyler mutters.

“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Ray coos.

She brushes off Peters’ uniform, hands lingering a second too long on his chest. Smirking, Peters adjusts his belt and puffs out his chest.

“It’s no problem ma’am. That little clown couldn’t hurt me if he tried. Why don’t you let a real man show you how it’s done?”

“Maybe I give you a call later,” she chirps as she sinks into the driver’s seat.

“I’m always up for a challenge,” Chatterbox rumbles, voice dark and heavy.

This was all getting to be too much. It’s a game. He knows that. But anyone thinking they can take his Cups from him is dead wrong. Dead and wrong. Chatterbox slams his seatbelt into place as Ray wiggles her fingers out the window in a flirtatious wave. They peel out back onto the main roadway, tires spinning against the worn blacktop. The car is silent. Both of Cups’ hands rest on the steering wheel, knuckles turning whiter than snow. 

“What the yuck,” Chatterbox grumbles.

Ray whips the car into the old casino parking lot before slamming her fists against the dash and letting out a ferocious scream. Eyes wide, Chatty turns to face her, back pressed against the door.

“God, I fucking hate him,” she wails.

“M-Me too, Cups.”

“So why do you always fucking think I’m being serious when I flirt with him? It’s to fucking get under his skin, Chatty. I want him dead. ”

Chatterbox gulps.

“I-I know. So…so we kill him.”

“Do you trust me or not?”

Silvery mercury eyes burn holes through his mask, seeing through any excuse he’ll try to cook up. Lying to her would be pointless. She always knows. Not that he wants to lie to her. Sometimes it just comes too easily–a knee-jerk reaction to a world that tears him apart and spits him out. Chatterbox takes a steadying breath.

“I’m trying to, Cups. It isn’t easy for me. To trust anyone. Not just you.”

And that’s the truth. He’s trying so hard to open himself up to her. To let her see all of him. She deserves to know him. Because all of me loves all of you. She must know that.

“Yeah. Well, it’s not easy for me either.”

Her voice softens as she sits back, eyes now trained on the parking spot in front of them.

“I’m sorry, Cups. I’m learning.”

“Me too,” Ray sighs, “I’m sorry for yelling.”

“I like it when you yell,” Chatty smiles, “It means you care a lot.”

“I do care a lot.”

“I know. I love you too.”

“Can we go kill that scumbag now?”

“Yeah. Want me to drive?”

“Please. I hate driving.”

“Should we get another car for him to send it down the mountain in?”

“Nah. Let him fuck up his cop car.”

“Good point.”

Chatterbox lets his fingertips brush her upper thigh as they cross each other in front of the car. A soft breath in from her brings a smile to his lips, a reminder for the both of them that they belong to each other. Entirely. 

“Don’t do that,” she hums as she resumes her place as passenger princess.

“Do what?” Chatterbox chuckles.

“ That. ”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cups.”

Shooting him a glare, she fights back a smile.

“Sure, Chatty.”

. . .

Brisk air nips at Chatterbox’s forearms as they sit on the hood of his car. Ray crosses her legs, pulling her sleeves down over her hands. The top of Mt. Chilliad is one of her favorite places to be; Chatterbox can see why. From the top, you can see just about everything on this rock. From the green land of his beloved Grapeseed below to the gray glint of the skyscrapers of Los Santos in the distance, the whole island looks like it can fit in the palm of his hand. He would crush it if he could. Holding up his fingers to pinch the prison between his pointer finger and thumb, he listens as Ray sorts out the details of their plan with Twinkles. She breathes a sigh as she hangs up the phone.

“Now comes the worst part.”

“What’s that?”

“I gotta get Tyler to come up here. Which means I gotta flirt.”

Chatterbox groans. 

“I can’t listen to that bullyuck. I’m just gonna get angry.”

“I understand,” she nods. 

Standing, Chatterbox adjusts his bowtie.

“Not that I’m threatened or nothing.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I gotta make a phone call too.”

“To who?”

Ray crosses her arms and pouts. 

“Nobody important. Just some clowns.”

“Which clowns?”

“What does it matter, Cups?”

“It better not be Ember,” she mutters, “Not that I’m jealous of Ember or anything. Ember has nothing on me.”

“Ew, what? No. I’m calling Twinkles.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to him when I was on the phone?”

“Maybe I’m trying to set up a surprise for you, Cups. Did ya think of that?”

“Oh! Okay!”

Chatterbox shakes his head, a grin beaming underneath his mask as Ray swipes a braid over her shoulder.

“I wasn’t worried anyway.”

“Sure, Cups.”

“I bet I finish my call before you.”

Raising his phone to his ear, Chatterbox’s eyes flicker with excitement. 

“You’re on.”

C’mon, Twinkles. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. He walks quickly away from the car, begging one of his best friends to answer the phone. The sound of Ray’s voice charms over the wind, sickeningly sweet due to the subject of her attention. Where the yuck are you, Twinkles?

“Hellooo, Twinkles is almost set up.”

“It’s not about that, Twinkles. I need your help with something.”

“Sure! What do you need?”

“Can you call Sooty and Kirk and have them get in touch with all the clowns and Chang Bang?”

“Ooo, what for?”

“I’m not gonna wait for her to roll for this. We’re gonna play a big game of hide and seek at the Funhouse. Kirk and Sooty know what to do. Have them call Taco.”

“Okie dokie! Good luck!”

“I don’t need luck, Twinkles.”

That’s only half true. Chatterbox grew up in a world where he had to make his own luck. That’s not to say he didn’t love to rely on the dice. Sometimes he just rolls for the yuck of it for the silliest decisions. But everything that happens after that is all on him. Roll after roll he’s come out with pure bad luck–having to make the best out of every situation. Until her. She was his lucky roll. The one time in his life that he felt like he got handed the winning cards. And the universe was gonna have to pry her from his cold dead yuckin’ hands. 

Jogging back up the hill from where he wandered, he finds Ray perched on top of a boulder, phone pressed to her ear. The falling sun illuminates her silhouette like a halo, soft yellow rays of light adding to her already radiant glow. Chatterbox stops in his tracks. The air feels as though it’s been knocked out of his lungs, and all he can see is her. Fussing with a loose wave from her braid, Ray chews on her bottom lip.

“Just get here,” she murmurs, “I miss you.”

She notices him, offering an apologetic smile. He won their little bet, but now he’s gotta sit here and listen to this bullyuck. Ray notices as she always does and points a finger to her tongue, imitating a gag before answering the yuckbag on the other end of the phone. 

“I’ll see you soon.”

Chatty shifts his weight, crossing his arms. Ray tosses her phone away. 

“That was the worst.”

“Sounded like you were really suffering.”

“Chatty, please don’t be like that,” she whines, “We just talked about this.”

“I’m not being like nothing.”

Reaching out, his Cups pulls him closer by his suspenders until she wraps her arms around his waist, chin resting on his chest as she looks up at him through her eyelashes. 

“C’mon, Chatty. You know I only love you.”

How could he ever stay mad at her? The ethereal being peers up at him, lips pressed into a pout. Chatty unravels his arms to find her and surrounds her in a tight hug. Cups hums as she snuggles in. My girl. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head through his mask, Chatty’s shoulders relax as he melts into her. 

“What if we just stay here like this forever?”

“You’re gonna get hungry, Cups.”

“You were a cannibal before. Who’s to say I can’t be?”

“Cups,” he cracks up.

“What?”

“We don’t eat people.”

“Not like that,” she giggles.

“Not like that,” he echoes.

“Wait a second.”

Ray pushes him away and furrows her brow. 

“You don’t think I’d taste good or something?”

“I know how you taste, Cups.”

Eyes wide, a crimson blush spreads over her cheeks as realization sets in. 

“Chatty!”

“What?!”

Their belly laughter cuts short at the sound of an engine ascending the crest of the ridge. 

“Shit! Chatty!”

“Yuck! I’m going!”

Chatterbox runs back to the car, driving it behind a boulder to avoid their impending victim. Sure-footed as a mountain goat, he leaps over the car and scrambles to a hiding spot behind an outcropping. His queen adjusts on her rocky throne. Sitting proud and tall, she exudes confidence. Mostly. Chatty’s eyes fall to her fidgeting fingers that pick at her sleeves. The tiniest movement gives her away, the anxiety and excitement coursing through her veins. His phone chimes.

SOOTY

Decorating the Funhouse rn! Do you need anything else?

Me

Nah. We’re good. About to send a piece of yuck off Mt. Chilliad. Be there soon.

SOOTY

Have fun! I’m gonna finish up here and then pick up some food. Don’t get caught.

Me

We won’t. I’m a god.

He takes a deep breath in as the cop car peeks over the ridge. Show time. You got this, Cups. His silent comfort stills her fingertips as she slides off the rock. Too far to hear her words, Chatty keeps his eyes trained on his queen. She’s never far from his sight. Even when she inevitably wanders off on her phone, he stays nearby. No one is going to try to steal her from him again. BonBon tried and failed. Never again. Ray circles Peters like a lioness stalking her prey. With a gentle touch to his bicep and a stupid grin on his face, Ray softens up their meal. Chatty flicks open the pocket knife he’s gripping tightly. I’m gonna make you wish you were never born. A rumbling growl grows in his throat as she makes one more circle around the goofy-faced officer. Then she stops. In a matter of seconds, Peters’ gun rests at his temple, the sultry bunny now a stone-cold snake. The piece of yuck raises his arms, trembling under her guidance. Chatty takes the cue and emerges from his hiding spot.

“Well, well, well,” he hisses. 

“Why did you invite this loser?”

“Seems to me you’re the loser in this situation, sweetheart.”

Ray presses the gun closer to his head, steely eyes tearing through his flesh. 

“We’re not gonna hurt you, yuckbag. We just wanna play a little game. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“Clowns have the worst games.”

“Then this shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”

“Go off duty,” Chatterbox instructs, “We don’t want any interruptions to our fun.”

Peters nods, looking back and forth between the intimidating clowns. He talks into his radio with an even voice except for a weak waver at the end. A smile grows on Chatty’s face. He feeds on fear, in truth. It’s fun to break people down to their bare bones, even if he no longer consumes them. Now the fun lies in the relief that floods their face when it’s revealed to be a prank. But this is no joke. 

“Good. You did good. Now–the fun part.”

“We’re going to have a little race.”

“A–A race?”

“Just a little race. To the bottom of this mountain.”

“With a twist,” Chatterbox grins, a smile as contorted as the paint on his mask.

Peters keeps his eyes on Chatty, now completely ignoring Ray. 

“You’re going to regret this. I’m going to make your life a living hell. What Gunner did to you will look like child’s play.”

“And what did Gunner do to him, Mr. Peters? Please. Tell me.”

Chatterbox raises an eyebrow. This wasn’t an expected conversation. Peters better answer carefully, knowing the extent of Ray’s rage for people who yucked with him. 

“I’m waiting,” she purrs viciously.

“He…uh…well, I’ve only heard stories.”

“We have time. You’re off-duty anyway. And I love a good story.”

“You heard the queen.”

He leans up against the cop car, twirling the knife between his fingers. 

“Well…he would…uh…poop on the Funhouse porch.”

“You’ve already done that, haven’t you? Pooped on my home?”

Chatterbox’s heart swells at her proud declaration of the Funhouse as her home. The rickety farmhouse sheltered Chatterbox alone for many years after Giblet’s death. Sure, the other clowns stayed there sometimes, but it was his alone. Many nights he stared at the blood-stained walls and wondered if the silence could get any louder. Every creak of the wood became a welcoming conversation, the groaning foundation begging to be forgotten. Until her. She breathes new life into the home without even trying, just by being her. Ray’s unending light reaches into the darkest corners of the building and his mind, coaxing them to be softer. Better. More sturdy. 

“Uh…”

“Continue.”

“And he would…ziptie him…”

“And make me walk down this exact mountain. Murder kitties and all.”

“Well, then isn’t this fitting? Full circle and all since you want to threaten my Chatty.”

Her Chatty.

“Anything else you want to share?”

“Anything else?” Chatterbox smirks.

“I…uh…I mean… he took off Chatterdonkey’s mask and peed in it.”

Ray freezes. 

“And then did what?”

“Put it back on his head.”

A skull-splitting crack echoes off the jagged rocks of Mt. Chilliad and Peters drops to his knees. Crimson blood drips from the handle of the gun, staining the pure snow below their feet. Chatterbox’s jaw snaps shut as he looks at Cups. She’s standing over Peters, silent as a prayer, chest heaving as rage burns bright behind sharp eyes. 

“You will never touch his mask. You hear me?”

“YOU BITCH,” Tyler coughs.

Chatterbox punts his foot into the man’s abdomen.

“The yuck did you just call her?”

“Chatty. It’s okay.”

Grabbing his arm, Ray restrains him from further attacking the weakened cop. 

“I’m okay,” she coos.

Darkness closes in the corners of his vision as his eyes stick to the man now coughing blood at their feet. A ringing in his ears competes with an echoing growl begging him to murder the pathetic yuck. 

“Chatty.”

The warmth of her hand on his neck brings the world back into focus. And it’s her. Just her.

“Stay with me. We’re gonna play our game, remember?”

“I remember,” he whispers. 

“Okay?”

“Can we kill him?”

“Let’s see if the mountain will do it for us.”

“You’re both going to regret this. You think I’m not going to turn you guys in when this is over? You’re fucked.”

“How about a little bet, Peters? Since you think you’re so much better than us?”

“To make the game even more fun.”

“I’m not having fucking fun.”

“C’mon. You baby. I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

“I’m bleeding!”

“So were the people in the prison. But you’re in much better shape!”

“Fine. What’s your stupid bet?”

“You beat us down the mountain and we turn ourselves in.”

“We beat you, and you have to let this go. Make up the most stupid story you can for how you got here.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then this gets much much worse.”

Chatterbox’s narrowing eyes darken like the skies over their head, inky black beneath his cheery mask. Taking a step back, Peters holds up his hands. 

“A-Alright.”

“Perfect!” Ray claps her hands together with excitement after tucking the gun in her waistband. 

“To your car.”

Chatterbox points to the CVPI with his knife. The crunch of rock and snow behind him calms any worries about Tyler taking off before they can get in their stolen car. His little rabbit revs the engine and drives it around to parallel their rival. 

“First to the bottom?”

“And you gotta full-send it. No pussy shit, Tyler.”

Ray scoots over to the passenger seat to make room for the king. Blood trickles down the side of Tyler’s head as he starts the car.

“I’m going to make you guys wish you were never born.”

“I hope you can get creative, yuckbag. You’re gonna have to tell a really good story.”

Revving his engine, Chatty gives the steering wheel a firm squeeze as if to beg the car to be on its best behavior. 

“On your marks.”

Peters looks away from them.

“Get set.”

A crisp shot makes Chatty flinch before slamming his foot to the floor. Ray throws the gun out the window as they fly down the mountain, dark evergreens blurring past them as their wheels leave the ground. Those first few seconds render the world surreal. It’s as if time freezes as adrenaline floods their veins and their lives hang on the precipice. Their screaming laughter fills the car as the hood taps a tree, sending them into a spiral down the ridgeline. Chatterbox spins the wheel, regaining control as they careen through a maze of rocks, bushes, and weather-forged trees. 

“Faster, Chatty,” she crows.

Hands over her head as if on a rollercoaster, Ray’s whole body surges with electricity like the buzz before a lightning strike. It’s palpable. The thrill of the race puts them both on the edge of their seats.

“I got this,” Chatterbox whoops before slamming into a rock that sends them back into the air.

“I don’t got this!”

The car lands back on its wheels, and Chatterbox stays committed to the mission: get to the base of the mountain first. Ray twists around in her seat, checking out the back windshield.

“I don’t see him.”

A fiery explosion rocks the mountainside, the landscape behind them painted with brilliant orange light.

“There he is.”

They both go silent for a second before bursting into raucous laughter. Chatterbox slows the car to a stop as tears blind him from the unexplored trail ahead. 

“Should…should we…oh my god…should we call someone?” Ray gasps, the air knocked out of her from the cartoon-like timing. 

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll put in an anonymous report to EMS.”

Chatterbox sends off a snarky text to the anonymous reporting system San Andreas designed to reduce the number of deaths that come with a city ruled by gangs and motor clubs. It’s a much better alternative to leaving sacks of yuck for death. Most of them don’t deserve that, even if they wouldn’t offer the same concern to him or his clowns. And as much as he would love for Peters to die, he doesn’t want a dead cop on his hands. Too much time locked in a jail cell wouldn’t be good for either of them. Cups also types away on her phone, a self-satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

“Who ya texting?”

“Peters.”

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘Sorry I missed you. Better luck next time.’ Think he’ll get the message?”

Chatterbox snorts, “You said ‘Better luck next time’?”

“Ya,” Ray giggles. 

“You’re something else, Cups.”

They restart their descent, now carefully navigating through the undergrowth and ever-treacherous terrain. The tires hit the pavement of the main road through Grapeseed and both breathe a sigh of relief. 

“I knew you could do it,” Ray praises with a soft glimmer in her eye. 

“Couldn’t do it without you, Cups. None of it.”

“That’s bullshit, Chatty.”

“No,” he breathes, “No it’s not.”

Too occupied pointing out some new cows at the neighbor’s farm, Ray doesn’t fight back. Maybe she didn’t hear him. Maybe she didn’t care to. But Chatty knows for a fact his life would be a whole lot darker without her as his guiding light. Tessa and Kirk pulled him from his initial hole and taught him how to be better. But Cups. His Cups. She saved him from falling back into the hole over and over again. She helped him to understand why the hole happened in the first place. She started shoveling dirt into the hole to prevent him from falling too deep ever again. He meant it when he said she saved him. In every sense of the word. 

“So do I roll again now?”

“Uh…no. I had a better idea.”

“You have the best ideas.”

As they approach the Funhouse, clown cars and sleek sports cars litter the yard in a haphazard array of metal. Ray gasps and leans forward.

“Chatty?”

“Welcome home, Cups.”

Chapter Text

Tears pool like sparkling silver ponds in Ray Mond’s eyes. Her family, her whole family, meanders through the tall grasses in the front yard of the Funhouse. The clowns in their colorful glory swarm their car as they approach. 

“Surprise!” They cheer, laughing and chasing after the car as it continues down the driveway.

Vinny stands with Taco, Zolo, Curtis, Carmella, Ellie, Hazel, Ramee, and…oh my fucking god…Mr. K, in a semi-circle in front of their blacked-out sports cars. 

“Chatty…” she whispers, reaching over to touch his arm.

“They’re so yuckin’ dramatic,” Chatterbox grumbles.

Ignoring his discontent, Ray squeals with excitement. Never able to wait, she rolls out of the moving car. Sharp gravel presses daggers into her soft skin.

“Cups!”

Chatterbox’s laughter punches from the rolling vehicle, the door still hanging open from her swift exit.

“Ray,” Vinny warns with concern thick in his throat.

“I’m okay,” she giggles. 

Hopping to her feet, she runs toward her first family in this wretched city. 

“I can’t believe you guys are here!”

Behind her, the clowns form a rippling wall of giggles and playful shoves. Chatterbox shoots them a warning glare. 

“Chatter told us about some sort of event thing they were doin’ for you,” Zolo shrugs.

“I can’t believe you whipped this clown into planning parties for you,” Carmella nods, “That’s hot girl shit. I’m proud of you.”

“Oh!”

Ray’s face turns pink as the petals of a blooming rose. Carmella never praises her. Always a judgmental eye, she’s everything Ray wished she was in their gang. Powerful, sexy, respected, talented: Carmella has it all. Except for my Chatty.

“I’m not yuckin’ whipped.”

“He’s just the numba’ one stallion,” Taco teases.

“He’s him!” Ellie points.

“I lost a bet,” Ray admits, “But this was all his idea!”

Chatterbox turns his back to the gangbangers and leans over to her.

“What’s whipped mean?” he murmurs.

“I’ll explain later,” Ray whispers back behind her smile. 

“I see,” Carmella nods, “Well, it’s still hot that his idea of punishing you is a party.”

“Is this a party?”

“I dunno, you tell me.”

“Why are we here, Chatteryuck,” Mr. K sighs.

“I’m so glad you asked,” a smile dripping from his tone, Chatterbox takes a facetious bow.

Ray rolls her eyes, but the brilliant grin she can’t seem to wipe off her face gives her away. 

“I brought you all here to play a game.”

The gangbangers tense up, reaching for their waistbands. The smile on Ray’s face dims. Her mercury eyes dance between the love of her life and her first family. The clowns move up behind her, now even with their queen. The tension between the two groups stretches like a rubber band. 

“Easy there, bubs,” Kirk growls.

“Will you guys yuckin’ relax? Sheesh!” Chatterbox shakes his head.

“We know what types of games you like to play, Chatter.”

Curtis steps forward, dropping his hand from his waistband. Vinny follows after.

“If the clowns wanted to yuck with us, they’d have just come to Grove Street,” Curtis shrugs. 

“Chatterbox wouldn’t want to ruin Ray’s day,” Vinny backs him up.

“You guys are so jumpy. ”

“Chatty,” Sooty aids, “I think maybe you should explain the game.”

“I’d love to.”

Ray’s heart pounds in her chest. Forever caught in the middle between the rival groups, she’s torn between her past and her future. Torn between the family who took her in and the family she took in. Please don’t, Ray begs CG silently. As if on cue, their hands fall away from the guns resting at their backs. Chatterbox runs to the front porch. The clowns and CG move in tandem to listen, merging to create a hybrid. Like me.  

“Let Cups move to the front,” Tessa gently guides. 

“Come up here, Ray,” Mr. K instructs.

The crowd parts in front of the Queen, and she moves shyly to stand at the foot of the king. The front porch becomes her clown’s stage. Chatterbox adjusts his clothing, dusts off his shoes, and then stands tall before all the people lucky enough to love her. 

“Ladies and gentlemen. Clowns and nasty gangbangers. I’ve invited you here today for, “ he pauses for dramatic effect, “a game.”

“You said that already,” Zolo boos.

Pockets throws an elbow into his side. Ray smiles.

“If you’d let me finish,” Chatterbox snarls.

“What game, Chatty?”

His shoulders relax at the sound of her voice. Ray nods, encouraging him to continue. He’s so cute. Even after years of being a rambunctious clown, she knows how he still gets nervous when attention falls on him. If it’s not running for the cops, that is. 

“We’re all gonna play a game of hide and seek.”

“Oh my god!”

The clowns echo her excitement, buzzing with ideas where no one could find them. Her gang shares uncertain looks.

“Now, you may ask yourself, why hide and seek?”

“I am asking myself that,” Curtis nods. 

“Shut up, I swear to god you himbo,” Scruffy sticks his tongue out at Curtis.

“Oh my god!” Curtis coos, “You think I’m hot?”

“Everybody quiet!” Ratchet yells.

“Yeah yeah!” Ember cheers.

Chatterbox facepalms before squeezing his fists in frustration. Mouthing “sorry”, Ray softens in apology for…well.. them. What she’s not sorry for, though, is how fucking hot he gets when he’s angry. 

“As I was saying…”

“Say it faster!” Mr. K booms.

“I’ll show you faster,” Kirk barks, “I’ll shove my fist up your ass faster than the Roadrunner escaping Willie E. Coyote’s bullet. I swear to god.”

“The next person who talks and isn’t Chatty will see how fast I can swing my hammer. Shut the fuck up.”

The crowd falls silent, all familiar with the business side of her weapon of choice—even Mr. K.

“Thanks, Cups,” he sighs.

A quiet cough in the back of the group draws sharp and uncertain glares.

“Hide and seek is one of the games Cups first played with the clowns.”

“Oh, yeah!”

“She came with GeeGee to the clown games where we played a game of partner hide and seek.”

“I hid under the stairs,” Ray boasts.

“One of my favorite spots,” he nods, “but I found ya real quick, remember?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, we’re gonna make it a lil’ more fun and challenging for everybody.”

Everyone stirs, already sizing up the house and thinking through potential hiding places.

“Instead of just the house, the whole grounds are open for hiding spots.”

The clowns cheer while CG groans. This is the clowns’ hunting ground. They all know the Funhouse and its property like the back of their hands. 

“That’s not fair,” Carmella whines, “you’ll find us all immediately.”

“That’s why I’m not gonna be the yuckin’ seeker, Carmella.”

“Who is, then?” Vinny tilts his head.

“I’m gonna get to that, Caillou.”

Ray clears her throat.

“S-Sorry, Vinny. Habit.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it is. So is me taking a shit on your forehead if you keep it up.”

“Guys,” she sighs.

“He started it,” Vinny crosses his arms.

“I’m gonna finish it.”

Chatterbox shoots Vinny a triumphant stare. 

“And that’s why she’s the queen,” Sooty smiles.

Ray’s cheeks flush a soft pink at her praise. Of all the clowns, it’s Sooty that Ray looks up to the most. Sooty seems to find the perfect balance of chaotic empathy. Her big sister energy holds space for all the clowns to be as colorful as they are, but one wrong move and… boom. They all respect her. Listen to her. One day people will really listen to me like that.  

“Thanks, Sooty,” Ray whispers.

“I was saying…”

A Glendale announces its arrival over the bridge with a dramatic and iconic horn.

“Max!”

Ray races away from the crowd toward the glinting gold reflecting off the warm rays of the approaching evening light. She waves her arms excitedly. Rolling down the window, her jet-black-haired bestie pokes her head out and waves back with equal enthusiasm.

“Kitty!” Ray squeals.

“Hiii,” Kitty smiles, “You weren’t gonna start the party without us were you?”

“I could never!”

Squeezing them both with a ferocious hug as they emerge from the car, Ray can’t wipe the grin off her face. He really invited everyone. Max gives her hand a gentle squeeze as they walk back toward the group.

“I wish April could see this,” he whispers, “she’d be so very proud.”

Almost everyone. A tightness in Ray’s chest crawls up her throat, threatening to choke out a tear. But it’s not the time to cry. Not with so many eyes on her. Her weaknesses remain her secret, visible only to her. And Chatty. She takes a deep breath in and squeezes his hand back.

“I miss her.”

“She’ll be back. You know how she gets.”

Nodding silently, the trio merges back with the mosaic mob. Pings of ache linger in Ray’s heart as Chatty welcomes Kitty and Max. It’s hard not to feel abandoned by April. Left without a word to some mystery world tour, Ray hasn’t heard from her in months. I can’t really be mad though. I did the same thing to her. Except she didn’t have an excuse. Just…she had to get away. The crowd parts around her, letting her easily move to the front. 

Ray locks eyes with Chatty for a split second. The group falls away as his citrine-speckled brown eyes bathe her with understanding. The storm clouds brewing behind her gaze dissipate as he tilts his head slightly as if to ask a question. The smile on her face falters in that second and she watches as concern darkens the gleam in his eye. Ray shakes her head softly. Maybe to shake off the consuming thoughts or maybe to warn him off bringing her attention, either way, the gesture works. It’s hard to feel alone when she’s seen by the most perfect man and she’s surrounded by all the people she loves.

“Now that everyone’s here we can roll for the seeker. Ray, can you pick a number?”

“Seventeen.”

Chatterbox shakes his head, a small chuckle inviting curious glances from the onlookers.

“Everyone roll a 100-sided die on your phone. If you roll over seventeen, you’re out.”

Mumbles rumble through the crowd as a mixture of relief and disappointment floods the gangbangers and clowns. Ray rolls her die and the number 71 pops up on her phone screen. Dammit. She walks over to the growing herd of hiders before surveying who is left. Curtis, Kirk, Pockets, Mr. K, Mumbles, and Hazel Luna stand holding up their phones with their single-digit numbers. 

“Okay, great!”

“If you make me run around looking for people, Chatterbox, I’m gonna take a shit on your bed,” Mr. K warns.

“That’s our bed, Mr. K.”

“Rayyy,” Vinny groans.

“I bet you don’t wanna sleep in shit, then.”

Ray sighs. As much as she loves her family, they really do just bulldoze their way into getting what they want. And not even for the funnies.

“O-okay, you old sack of yuck. Join the hiders then.”

Mr. K flashes a winning smile at the rest of the potential seekers. 

“I already took a shit in your bathroom,” Kirk offers.

“Kiiirk,” she groans.

“When don’t you,” Chatterbox facepalms.

“Tha’z a good point.”

“Gross,” Hazel sneers.

“Not as gross as your face. Lookin’ like you made out with a semi-truck and then smeared it with a load of roadkill intestines.”

“You’ve got no room to talk,” she crosses her arms.

“Will the rest of you just roll again out of 20? The closest to seventeen is the seeker.”

Hazel sighs in relief, muttering curses at Kirk under her breath as she joins the hiders. Mumbles lets out an exasperated groan, and Curtis whines as they also join. Only Pockets and Kirk remain. Pockets presses the roll button on his phone. Kirk follows. The crowd creeps forward in unconscious anticipation. Holding up their phone where only Chatty can see, a honey-dipped glimmer dances in his eye. 

“Alright everyone, you’ve got five minutes to hide before the Kirk-monster tries to eat ya.”

“And I’m starvin’.”

Everyone breaks into elated squeals and giggles as they start to look around. 

“Three!”

Ray takes in a deep breath.

“Two!”

The crowd collectively shifts their stance, ready to run.

“One!”

“Go!” Ray laughs as she takes off sprinting before everyone else.

“Hey!”

Scattering like balloons released to the wind, her families take off in a million different directions. Ray runs through the house first as a means of distraction before heading out the back door and into the barn. Dust flies around her as she opens the door like antique glitter in the falling sun. Okay, time to get dirty. Squeezing passed the rusted farm equipment, Ray ducks under a haphazardly draped tarp and behind lopsided haybales. It’s there she finds the perfect spot. Dust-covered red and blue plastic crates stand in perfect stacks to create a little cubby. Ray shifts them to the side to squeeze inside, closing them behind her. She leans an aluminum metal sheet to block out any light that could reveal her through the cracks. Now we wait.  

Little knocks and bangs emanate around the barn as she hears people slip into their hiding spots. Hushed whispers and giggles reveal their positions until stillness sets in. Ray wraps her arms around her knees, resting her cheek on her forearms. The rattle of the barn door causes her to hold her breath. It’s already felt like hours of waiting, and now the barn door is closed, blocking out the remaining sunlight. Now there’s only a single stream of light from the upstairs window and pinpricks of glow from the cracks and holes in the old wood. Something brushes against the tarp and she slaps a hand over her mouth. 

There’s no way they found me already. Ray’s eyes widen as the crates rattle and shift. The aluminum slides to the side and–

“Chatty?!” she whispers aggressively.

He chuckles.

“Oh hey, Cups.”

“Will you two shut up,” Curtis hisses from the rafters.

“Sorry,” they whisper in unison.

“Scoot over.”

“I’m scootin’. I’m scootin’.”

Ray makes room for her favorite clown and he closes their hiding spot door behind him. 

“Why don’t you get your own spot?”

“The yuck?” Chatterbox points to some papers on the ground next to her, “This has been my yuckin’ spot.”

Picking up one of the papers, Ray holds it up to the small stream of light from a crack in the wood over her shoulder. She moves the paper around to allow the light to travel across the page. Scratchy crayon drawings like that of a young child cover the paper in vibrant colors. Ray squints, trying to make out their contents. Is that…a cow? No. A pig? Maybe? And a body…and…oh.  

“I used to come out here to hide.”

Ray nods in understanding. A blue arrow on the page points to a tall blue man with an angry face. 

“Is this…”

“Anything he didn’t use for the stew got fed to the pigs.”

“Mm…and this?” 

She points to a broken-looking car.

“Me and Giblets would take our anger out on this old car in town that was probably one of Bobo’s victims. We couldn’t stand up to him so we beat the yuck out of the car.”

“Whatever happened to–”

Chatterbox quickly puts a hand over her mouth as footsteps crunch on the gravel outside. The barn door slams open and someone else in the barn gasps. Ray’s eyes widen. Chatterbox puts a finger to his lips.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

“Gotcha!” Kirk yells as he knocks over a haybale to reveal Derpy.

“Dang it!” she giggles before running out of the barn.

“Shouldn’t have been so obvious dumbass!” Kirk calls after her. 

His heavy footsteps move around the barn as he lazily looks around the farm equipment, cursing the small spaces. Ray fights the urge to laugh. Old wood creaks and groans as he climbs the ladder to the loft. 

“How’d your fatass get up here?” Curtis teases.

“The power of mass is on my side!”

Chatterbox rolls his eyes, nearly pushing Ray to giggle. The couple listens as Kirk walks overhead, checking for any stragglers. 

“Come out, come out, you sons of bitches.”

A titter outside captures his attention, and he nearly falls off the ladder in his rush out of the barn. Ray chokes back a laugh as Chatterbox puts a hand over his own mouth. As she starts to move, he softly shakes his head “No.” Kirk jumps around the corner of the barn into the entrance again.

“Gotcha! Fuck.”

The disappointment in his voice to find no one there nearly makes Ray feel guilty enough to give herself away. Nearly. But if anything, she’s competitive more than kind. They let out a sigh of relief as he closes the barn door behind him. Ray rests her head against the back wall of the barn. 

“I yuckin’ knew he’d be back,” Chatterbox chuckles quietly.

“Thank yuck you did. I wanted to laugh so bad.”

“He’s so yuckin’ dumb.”

“This is a pretty good spot.”

“Of course you found it.”

Ray smiles, eyes sparkling like dewdrops in the moonlight. There’s something comforting in his praise. Never for the usual things, his words of affirmation always reach into her soul with a tender hand and offer a healing touch. He doesn’t even mean to. It’s never conscious. Never intentional. His stumbling around in the dark when it comes to romance makes his every word and action that much sweeter. Not like the other guys she’s dated. They all know what they’re doing. Every word a game. Loving Chatty isn’t a game. It’s more like a dance. A wisping back and forth. Neither of them knows the steps; they’re just making it up as they go. But they’re in it together instead of against each other.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“You.”

“What about me?”

Chatty twists himself to fully face her, arms wrapped loosely around his knees.

“How you cooked up this whole day for me.”

“Well, yeah! You lost the bet.”

“It’s more than that, Chatty.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You made sure to include my family even though you don’t like ‘em much.”

“Well, yeah! I want ya to have fun.”

Of course, it’s obvious to him. Ray reaches over and hooks her pinky with his. No promise spoken, yet every one understood. 

“How long do you think it’ll take ‘em to find us?”

“Oh, he’s probably already given up,” Chatterbox snorts.

“So why are we still in this musty barn?” Ray laughs before slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise.

“Cuz I like being alone with you.”

A shy blush creeps into her cheeks.

“I like being alone with you too.”

“Cups?”

“Yeah, Chatty?”

“Can I kiss ya?”

Ray’s heart flutters like the first time they crossed the line into more than. More than acquaintances. More than friends. But still my best friend.  

“Whatcha askin’ for, Chatty?”

“I-is that a yes?”

Giggling she nods, “Yes, ya dumbie.”

“I didn’t go to college,” he teases.

“Yet you’re the smartest person I know.”

“No, Cups, that’s you.”

Her breath catches in her throat as he lifts his mask to reveal the growing shadow of the beard he has to shave every morning. She knows he hates his face, but to her…to her, she wouldn’t want to wake up to anything else. Every rigid scar is her favorite map to trace. The goofy smile on his face brings her more joy than little else on this godforsaken island. On this planet even.  

“God, this barn yuckin’ stinks!”

“Will you stop complaining and kiss me already?”

Chatterbox shakes his head as he shifts his weight to his knees, white glove cradling her face.

“So yuckin’ bossy,” he drawls before pressing his lips to hers.

A soft happy noise bubbles out of Ray as her lips fall open, inviting him closer. Time stands still as they melt together, dust dancing around them in honor of everything that came before and everything that will be after. Chatterbox pulls away first, nuzzling his nose against hers.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“I love you too.”

The crunch of gravel behind the barn makes them both jump, Chatterbox scrambling to put his mask back on. 

“Have you seen Chatty?” Tessa asks behind the weatherworn wood.

“No,” Kitty answers, “But I haven’t seen Ray either.”

Looking at each other wide-eyed, Ray and Chatty listen silently.

“Oh. My. God,” Kitty gasps, “I bet they’re somewhere yucking.”

“Don’t…oh god,” Tessa cringes, “Don’t say that.”

“C’mon, Tessa, you know how they look at each other.”

“Honey, I don’t even wanna think about it.”

Kitty titters with glee as their footsteps retreat. Ray’s face feels like it’s on fire. And from the look of the skin peeking out from the edge of his mask, Chatty’s feeling the same. 

“Chatty…I-”

“We should probably…”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

They navigate their way out of Chatterbox’s safe spot, quickly brushing out their clothing from dirt and pieces of hay trying to hitch a ride. Ray takes a deep breath in. Back to reality. Back to chaos. 

“Wait,” Chatty catches her hand and pulls her back from the door.

“Ya?”

Chatty pulls a straggler piece of straw from her braids.

“Just one last thing.”

“Oh! Thank you.”

“You been saying that a lot today.”

“I been meaning that a lot today.”

“You ready to rejoin the mess?”

“They're our mess.”

“You ain’t wrong.”

Pulling the barn door open, they’re met with dazzling color touching every inch of the sky. Swirling oranges and pinks paint the landscape with a warm golden hue. Ray gasps in excitement. 

“Chatty!”

She squeezes his arm as if he’s somehow responsible.

“Wow.”

Kirk breaks the quiet moment as he barrels past them.

“Found you fuckers! Now let’s eat! Sooty brought food!”

Ray takes off after him with Chatterbox right at her heel. 

“Did you find everyone?” Chatterbox calls after his best friend (besides her, of course).

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Kirk calls back.

“Fair enough,” he laughs.

In the front yard, the crowd of (mostly) everyone gathers around two long collapsable tables Sooty set up. 

“Has anyone seen Pockets?” Lily asks.

“Yuck Pockets.”

“Someone find Pockets.”

“I’ve been here the whole fuckin’ time. Yuck you, Chatty.”

Chatterbox shrugs.

“I wanna eat first!” Mr. K elbows his way through the crowd.

“There’s plenty of food ya old prune fuck,” Stumbles grumbles.

“There’s enough for everyone,” Sooty assures.

Ray hangs back as everyone sorts through the sandwiches, trading for their ideal meal. The clowns and CG engage in their playful banter, pushing and shoving like siblings at the dinner table. The rambunctious group splits into smaller sects to eat. Her CG family keeps off to itself except for Curtis who sits with Pockets, Bozo, Derpy, and Scruffy. Taco also split off to sit with Kirk, Twinkles, Tessa, and Wayne. Her clown re-emerges from the mess with her favorite sandwich in tow, an exhausted look in his eye.

“Hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Where do you wanna eat?”

Ray takes a look at the cacophonous conversations happening around them. Then she turns to look back at the Funhouse.

“Wanna eat on our balcony? That way we can see everyone…but it’s not so…”

“Loud?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay!”

Chatterbox leads the way to their upstairs balcony where the distance gave them at least some privacy. 

“Sorry, I just get overwhelmed sometimes.”

“You don’t gotta apologize, Cups. They’re a lot.”

“I love them though.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not like that, Chatty, you knucklehead.”

“Mph,” he huffs, mouth too full of sandwich to fight back.

They eat silently, watching the waves of laughter and passionate story-telling sweep over the crowd. The sun falls further down on the horizon, illuminating everything in an icy blue light. The heat of the day fades with the sun. And one by one, people begin to drift away. First, it’s Mr. K, Zolo, and Carmella. Then it’s Lily, Stumbles, Moose Knuckles, and Pockets (who have to be at work in the morning). 

Disordered games start up as some of the cladies start to clean up the mess left behind. Tessa starts up a small bonfire in the front drive with the help of a dutiful Ember. The remaining CG members chase the clowns around the blaze in a no-holds-barred fistfight. Ellie and Hazel are the next to call it night. Followed by a sleepy Mumbles, Happy, Windsong, and Ursula. Little by little the clowns dwindle. 

Darkness swallows Grapeseed. But in that darkness, a brilliant light shines from the Funhouse. It’s not the light inside. Nor from the crackling fire that Chatty and Ray wander down to. No, the light is radiating from the hearts of the last few. The people who choose to stay. Vinny, Taco, Curtis, Kirk, Wayne, Mr. Ratchet, Ember, Twinkles, Max, Kitty, Tessa, and Sooty all sit around the fire with the clown King and Queen. Vinny regales tales from before the economic crash, dropping lore that Tessa adamantly denies. Kirk and Mr. Ratchet engage in a musical squabble that has Taco practically rolling in laughter. Sooty, Curtis, Max, Kitty, and Ember whisper the latest gossip to each other. And all of that chaos, all of it, makes sense to her. 

Ray rests her head on Chatterbox’s shoulder as she watches elusive shapes twist and turn in the fire’s hands. Warmth echoes in her chest, reaching into the darkest crevices of herself and filling the cracks with molten love. Icy doubt stands no chance. It tries to worm its way through, but it’s only met with fierce fire; she’s solidified into silky obsidian. Dark, powerful, strong, and useful. But not like she used to be. Not a tool. Not a weapon. A part of something bigger. Ray looks around at the people who choose to stay. Family. An actual family. Not made of blood but rather of sweat and tears. Of dedicated work. Of intentional love. Even when they piss her the fuck off, they’re the people she knows will be there for anything.

Chatterbox squeezes her hand.

“You okay?” he whispers under the heartful chatter.

She didn’t even notice the tear running down her cheek.

“I’m more than okay, Chatty. I’m home.”