Chapter Text
Where is he? Hater poked his head into the closet, searching. He clawed at his skull, wiping a sliver of drool from his front teeth. When I get my hands on him…
The closet was full of spare uniforms and cloaks, all hung up neatly. Hater snorted impatiently. He moved a row of clothes aside, still looking.
Something shot past his ankles, small and fast. Not fast enough.
Hater caught Peepers as the Watchdog jumped on the bed. In his hand was Hater’s missing jawbone.
Gotcha! Pinning Peepers down with one hand, Hater started tickling him. His bony fingers skittered under the Watchdog’s armpits and across his belly. Peepers kicked and squirmed, trying to escape the tickles. His giggles made Hater’s heart lighter than air. “OK,” Peepers gasped out, “OK! I give! You win!”
Hater huffed happily. A dribble of spit ran down his down his hood as he flopped over onto his back. Still laughing, Peepers crawled across the mattress to reattach Hater’s jawbone. Hater opened and closed his mouth a few times. It squeaked a bit, but that was nothing new.
“You’re making this too easy,” Hater teased. “Hiding in the closet? C’mon, Peepers, you can do better than that!”
“Shut up,” Peepers said.
Hater saw unbridled affection in that big red eye. He opened his arms, and the Watchdog curled up on his chest. Peepers wasn’t wearing his helmet, and Hater relished the gentle pressure resting against his cheek. Their fingers automatically twined together.
A wonderful warmth spread through Hater’s marrow. Peepers was the only one who could Hater feel like this; warm and happy and secure.
“You’re the greatest,” Hater told him, very softly. “I love you, Peepers.”
Peepers sighed happily, snuggling closer to Hater’s ribcage. “Love you more, big guy.”
“Don’t turn this into a contest, Peeps, you know I’ll win,” Hater purred.
He kissed Peepers, and held him even tighter. That warm little weight made Hater’s heart flood with happiness. He squeezed Peepers’ hand, just as the communicator on his boyfriend’s hip flashed.
Hater snorted. Every time we get a minute alone!
“It’s my mother,” Peepers said, squinting at the screen.
Hater sighed. “Better pick it up.”
Elara won’t leave us alone if we don’t answer.
Peepers pressed a quick kiss to Hater’s cheek and held the phone up between them.
“Hello, boys!”
“Hey, Ma.”
“’Sup?” Hater asked.
Elara’s overly-enthusiastic voice made Hater nervous. He exchanged a glance with Peepers. The Commander’s expression was wary.
“We haven’t heard from you two in a while,” Elara began.
Oh, boy. Incoming guilt trip. Hater braced himself.
“Are you boys doing all right?” Elara asked.
“We’re fine, Ma,” Peepers said pointedly.
Elara ignored him. “Well, your father and I agree, a little visit is long overdue,” she said. “It’s been way too long since we’ve seen you.”
“How about coming over for dinner tomorrow night?” Hater blurted out.
Still on the skeleton’s chest, Peepers stiffened. Hater swallowed.
“That sounds wonderful!” Elara gushed. “We’d love to come to dinner!”
Peepers stared at him. “You sure?” he mouthed.
Hater felt sick. He nodded mechanically. Words wouldn’t come.
“Okay, Ma,” Peepers said cautiously. “We’ll see you and Pop tomorrow at seven.”
“All righty, then, talk to you soon. Kisses!” Elara trilled, and she hung up.
A full three seconds of silence followed. Hater forgot how to breathe. Dinner with Terry and Elara? Grop, Grop, Grop! What did I just do?!