[ti]private[/ti]Hazing

Despite completing his introduction and acquiring his starter, Saint had yet to move forwards. Between the sudden rush of project deadlines and having to cover the shifts of missing staff at the store’s already barebones crew, Angelo simply didn’t have time for videogames.

It took over a week before he finally found some time to play, at the end of his shift, late into a Saturday, as Sundays would be entirely dedicated to the school deadlines on Monday. And since this was a weekend, it was also safe to assume Finn wouldn’t be home (not that he was ever home much in the first place). Frats usually threw their busiest parties during the weekend, right?

“I wonder…” Saint is sitting at the edge of the research camp, sat on a little boulder with Gumball in his lap. He’s looking over to the fantastical landscape, admiring the rumbling skies, the strange, floating spires that hang in the air – an apparently recent development.

Gumball pauses where he’s juggling a few rocks to look up at him. Saint smiles, cradling him closer. “Just… I’m not sure what to do next. We could explore… do the tutorials, or maybe my first quest…” He sounds tired as he lists the last two. “A lot of these would require other players, though…”

Gumball honks his nose at him. The popplio still hasn’t uttered a word, despite Saint having checked his settings, and knowing pokemon can talk by observing the other newbies loitering the camp with their starters. He thinks he’s slowly getting a grasp of his signals, though. “Want to make some new friends?” Saint asks, scratching the popplio’s chin, which is rewarded with some (mildly painful) tail slaps on his leg.

Honk!

The sound of a familiar voice freezes his blood in his veins, his eyes shot wide as a weight throws itself around his shoulders, squeezing him. Squeezing the air out of him. A light bonk and suddenly he’s mere inches away from the face of his roommate—undoubtably his roommate, from the mane of white hair to his cocksure face.

Saint is unable to speak until he feels the arm around him squeeze him ever tighter, argent’s voice dripping with false chumminess.

“Consider it a maintenance fee,” Saint grits out, the fatigue in him turning into frustration. He attempts to yank himself away from Argent, but there’s no escaping the guy’s grip. His heart is beating fast.

In a fit of panic, he grabs Gumball and shoves him under his shirt, trying to protect and hide him. “What are you doing here?” Saint hisses, keeping his voice low as if trying to hide their familiarity from the greater public. “You don’t even like Pokemon!” He’s been under the assumption he wasn’t, since he never saw him play UNOVR despite selling it for months.

Under his shirt comes a writhing shape, and faint honking.

Saint’s panic meter is about to top off. There’s no telling what Argent will do, what he’ll demand, and the grip around his shoulders is starting to feel like a tightened steel clamp.

And then Gumball honks, and Saint doesn’t even have time to brace himself before Argent grabs his chest, his heart leaping and blood rushing his face and neck. How can this guy just do shit like this?

“I—that’s—I’m just—” He wraps his arms around Gumball, the popplio getting restless over being covered, but Argent is staring at him with a look that bodes only bad omens, and he has to give an answer for the bump right fucking now or—“Pregnant.”

His lips roll inward, mortification setting in soon after he realizes what just came out of his mouth. It hadn’t been on his whiteboard, but he supposes he’ll have to die now. This is fine.

The awkwardness that hangs between them is lethal. Argent staring at him with this dumbstruck look, Saint completely embarrassed and now experiencing the dawning horror that Argent seems to think he’s serious.

But Gumball pops out of his collar, the popplio wiggling his little nose at Argent before sticking his entire head out of Saint’s shirt. His smile stretches wide at the sight of the new friend, but then he notices the arm wrapped tight around his trainer’s shoulders. Oh no, that simply wouldn’t do. He’ll need to teach this one how to play nice.

Gumball opens his mouth and uses WATER GUN on him.

Saint yelps, using the opportunity to duck out from under Argent’s grip. “Alright good talk, gottagobye!” He springs to a stand, and with Gumball still clutched against his chest (the popplio peeking over his shoulder to stare unblinkingly at Argent), he books it as fast as his legs can take him down the steppe.

He can hear Argent cursing him and it only propels his feet further. Of all the places they could’ve started in, it really had to be a huge open plain?!

A hard metallic ball slams into the back of his skull as if it were a bullseye on a pub dartboard. His foot misses the next step and he’s sent crashing on the dirt, groaning in a heap of cloth and limbs.

Gumball wiggled out of his shirt right before impact. The popplio lands perfectly on the ground in front of his fallen trainer, flippers spread out as if to say ‘Tadah!’ before his smiling gaze takes in the Charmander that pops out of the ball. Now does nailing his trainer in the head count as a turn?

The answer is yes!

Saint slowly raises himself off the ground, soreness radiating from the back of his head. The soil under his palms is squishy. He turns his gaze over to where Argent stands, spotting Gumball surrounding himself in a hamster ball of water before launching at a Charmander with AQUA JET. “Wait, Gumball, no!”

Gumball laughs, even as the Charmander lunges at him with claws splayed, even as said claws rake up his blueberry body, missing his face only by virtue of his absolutely insane movements. He flips and flops throughout the melee, as malleable as a pool noodle. He’s having fun!

When opportunity presents itself, he bounces back up, before attempting to slap slap slap the little Charmander’s silly orange cheeks.

Saint slams into the mud, his palms bracing to keep his face from colliding with the muck, but to no avail. Argent hisses in his ear and a grip secures his hair before pushing him down. The sensation is disgusting.

Saint turns his head, his cheek dragging against the mud to keep breathing. “Finn, you are such a…” His hand curls into the mud, anger rising inside him. “Such a fucking dick!” He twists his body, tossing a handful of mud in Argent’s face.

Seeing the mud ruin Argent’s snooty little fratboy face is terribly satisfying. It’s a short-lived victory though, as his roommate immediately gets back to smothering his face in the pool of mud.

Until Gumball and the Charmander careen into them. Gumball cheers, having slapped his performance partner enough times to reach the second phase of their act. Taking advantage of the moment of chaos, Gumball dives, tossing Charmander in the air, trying to spin and bounce him on his head like a big ol’ flaming bouncy ball.

Saint scrambles back up, dripping with mud and rage. “It’s not even real! You’re giving me shit over a WorldVyuv!” Oh, this has been a long time coming. He shoves Argent down, scraping more mud from the pool under them to cover his infuriating mug.