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Battat’s neck was killing him. Well, neck and back. No need to absolve one area for its crimes unnecessarily, especially when it was still committing them. He’d spent most of his day sorting through paperwork, since Tenna hadn’t needed too much from Mike while he was on shift, and while it needed to happen, his body was not making it easy for him. Especially since he’d passed out on his desk for any number of hours yesterday before one of his partners found him and carried him to bed. His eyes flicked over the paper in his hand, a page from some old schedule covered in multicolor highlighter marks, before he unceremoniously dropped it in the “shred” pile, a stack of papers on the floor that reached his mid-thigh when he was standing.
He continued sorting papers, his mind wandering as he chewed on a pen. Pluey had basically just gone on shift, and wouldn’t be back for several hours. Jongler was in a different room, and Battat had honestly no clue what they were doing. He paused his work, listening carefully. Quiet shuffling filtered through from the other room, as well as Jongler humming the theme to one of Tenna’s westerns. Battat rolled his eyes fondly. Whatever they were doing, at least they were enjoying themself.
It was definitely strange, he thought, to be allowed to be that fond of someone. Two someone’s, even, and actively encouraged to be affectionate. His partners, of course, had no such mental blocks, giving him kisses and head bonks (Jongler’s equivalent of a kiss, he had discovered) at almost every possible opportunity. In a lot of ways it was everything he’d wanted, but he was by no means used to it.
(He hadn’t asked them to stop, though.)
A large hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped, startled from his thoughts.
“Oops, sorry boss, didn’t mean ta scare ya,” Jongler said, carefully setting down a mug on the desk. “I brought ya some tea. I know you’s prefer coffee, but dis one’s real nice, and you’s need ta relax anyway.”
Battat leaned into Jongler’s touch slightly, picking up the mug and holding it close to his body, letting the warmth seep through him. “It’s alright, I just got lost in thought.”
He took a sip, pleasantly surprised at how strong of a flavor it was. Usually tea was weak as hell, and he could barely taste anything but leaf water, but this was actually nice. He took another drink, savoring it.
“So, whaddya think?”
Battat held the mug to his chest again. “It’s good. I like it. I can actually taste this one, so it’s already leagues above about half of all teas as far as I’m concerned.” He glanced up to see Jongler practically glowing with happiness.
“Aw, Batts, ya really like it?”
He flushed at the nickname, looking away. “Yeah, it’s good. On par with a decent cup of coffee,” he half-muttered, taking another drink.
Jongler squeezed his shoulder affectionately, unfortunately returning Battat’s attention to his (pained, stiff) back and neck.
“You’s alright, Batts?” Jongler asked, concern radiating off of them.
“Yeah, why?”
“It’s just that you’s awfully tense,” they said, squeezing his shoulder again to make a point. Oh, that felt good. Battat unthinkingly leaned into the touch.
“Yeah, I’m alright, just hhha-” Whatever he was about to say dissolved as Jongler started rubbing circles into his tight muscles. He bit his tongue to prevent the truly embarrassing noise that was about to escape.
He could feel Jongler’s amusement without even having to glance over. He did so anyway. Yep. Clearly trying not to laugh at his reaction. The hand that wasn’t doing heavenly things to his shoulder was covering the lower half of their face as if to hide a smile. Not like it was doing anything, they didn’t have a mouth. Still, the gesture was undeniably cute.
“What wazzat Batts? Didn’t hear ya properly.”
That smug bastard, they knew what they were doing. Battat looked away again, blushing. He cleared his throat before trying to talk again, “I said I’m alright, just haven’t moved in a while, and Tenna’s been his normal stressful SELF—” Jongler’s other hand had moved to Battat’s other shoulder while he wasn’t looking. Battat hid his face in his hands as he made some mangled groan.
Jongler didn’t even try to hide their laugh this time. Fuck, he loved hearing that laugh. Goddamn cute piece of shit. He felt a light touch to the top of his head, probably a kiss if he had to guess. Thankfully they were already hiding their face so Jongler wouldn’t know how much they were affecting him. (They definitely knew, but shut up.)
They stayed like that for a short eternity, Jongler working absolute magic with their hands and Battat burying his face in his arms trying desperately to bite back his noises. It felt fantastic, it felt like his bones were being rearranged (in a good way), it was indescribable. Eventually Jongler lifted their hands, Battat incapable of stopping his quiet whine at the loss.
“Feelin’ better?”
Battat finally lifted his head from where it was resting on the desk, grabbing one of Jongler’s hands to press a kiss to the palm. Hopefully that got the message across, he didn’t trust himself to speak for the moment.
God, their hands were huge. He didn’t think about it often, but holy shit. He wasn’t that much shorter than average for a pippins, but Jongler was almost twice his height, even when he was wearing his heeled boots. Absolutely ridiculous, the comparative hand size definitely didn’t make his stomach do backflips or anything, that would be foolish. Anyway.
Jongler just laughed again, the bastard. “I’m glad you’s liked it.” They moved his mug closer to the edge of the desk, saying, “After ya finish da tea, I can give you’s a proper massage, if ya want.”
“That wasn’t a proper massage?!” Battat couldn’t help but ask, incredulous.
Jongler thought for a few seconds. “Nah, dat was more of a shoulder rub. A massage would cover more area.”
Battat’s face was hot. He picked up the mug, drinking slowly. It was still slightly warm, and still tasted really good. His gaze scanned over the papers stacked on his desk. He still had work to do (when did he not?), but he was mostly finished. He could leave it for later. After all, it’s not like this would take the entire rest of the day. And Jongler had the first shift tomorrow anyway, so one of them could finish it up tomorrow morning if it came down to that. Yeah. Okay.
Before too long, Battat finished his tea, setting the mug back on the desk. He’d clean it up later. Jongler smiled, pressing another kiss to the top of his head.
“Well? D’ya want da massage?” Battat nodded, unable to think of a way to verbally agree to it without sounding desperate.
“Alright, c’mon then,” they said, heading for their shared bedroom.
“Wait, we’re not doing this here?” Battat asked, struggling to escape his chair for an embarrassing second as Jongler paused in the doorway.
They tilted their head, puzzled. “No? It’s way easier if ya lay down, an’ I’m not sure how well we’s fit on da couch.”
Battat walked over, fidgeting with their sleeves. “Right, makes sense.” Just be normal. Come on, Battat, it’s just you and one of your partners together. In your bedroom. Getting a massage. From them. Yep. Normal. He could be so normal about this.
Jongler sat on the edge of their shared bed, patting the space next to them invitingly. After barely a moment’s hesitation, Battat sat next to them.
“D’ya wanna take off anythin’?”
“What.”
“Like you’s jacket. Feels better without da extra fabric in da way. Ya don’t have to, if you’s ain’t comfortable, but…”
Battat moved to unbutton his jacket, internally marvelling at the idea that anything could feel substantially better than what he’d just experienced. Unlike most pippinses, who wore ponchos, Battat had a very loose jacket that looked almost similar enough to not be questioned. Almost. At any rate, it was quickly discarded to the floor, along with his tie.
He hesitated at his shirt. He knew it wasn’t really a big deal, there wasn’t much of anything to see there, but. It was kind of a lot, considering he didn’t think either of his partners had seen him that undressed. He undid the top two buttons. Compromise.
“So, how do you want me?” Battat immediately cringed at his own choice of words, but it was too late to replace them with something better. Thankfully Jongler didn’t seem to notice or care.
“I was thinkin’ you’s could lie facedown, dat way I can get ta you’s whole back easily,” they said, flexing their hands slightly.
Battat nodded, feeling almost lightheaded with anticipation. “Right. Yeah, I can do that.” He hesitated, giving Jongler a kiss before he laid down, face partially hidden in a pillow. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed Jongler blushing slightly. Good. At least he wasn’t the only one being affected like this.
Thankfully for his remaining sanity, Jongler didn’t straddle him, nor did they sit between his legs. He might actually have died of embarrassment if that happened. Instead, Jongler sat near his feet and simply leaned over him. Holy fuck, they were tall. So very, very tall.
Their hands skimmed over his back, smoothing out his shirt, and Battat’s breath audibly hitched (much to his chagrin). Jongler barely even paused before they dug their hands into the space between his shoulderblades, rubbing circles into his sore muscles. Battat swore, but it had no breath behind it, and it came out much higher than his usual register. Jongler seemed to take it as encouragement, slowly starting to shift their attentions down his spine.
It felt absolutely heavenly. God, all of it was worth it just for this. His brain was melting, and his body was putty under Jongler’s more-than-capable hands. “Ohhhh shit, you’re so good at this…” The praise leapt unbidden from his mouth, his voice audibly wobbling as his face warmed. He would probably care more about how he sounded if large parts of his thoughts weren’t occupied with pure bliss.
Their hands stuttered in their movements for a second before resuming the smooth motions. “Yeah?”
Battat just made a little noise of agreement, hands fisting themselves in the bedclothes as Jongler hit a particularly tight area.
There was a minute of silence, broken only by Battat’s increasingly ragged breathing and bitten-off noises. Then, quietly but clear as crystal, “You’s so small, Batts. Heh, I could prob’ly…” They stopped their massage, placing one hand in the middle of his back, fingers splayed. Battat felt it cover nearly his entire back, his face unbearably hot as he buried it in the pillow.
Jongler giggled, going back to the massage. He couldn’t even be mad at their teasing, not really, not when they were still doing that. Still, he had to keep up appearances. “Not my fault you zappers are huge,” came his strangled reply. “I’d rather not have to worry about hitting my head on doorways, thank you!”
Jongler chucked. “Yeah, dat’s true. You’s real small though, even for a pippins.”
“Oh, yeah, rub it in, why don’tcha?” Battat grumbled. There was a reason he wore heeled boots, and why his Mike costume had lifts in the shoes. Not that anyone knew about the lifts, of course. That would be horribly embarrassing, Mike wouldn’t stand for that.
“Aw, c’mon, you like it!” Jongler teased, gently squeezing the back of his neck. That did something funny to his head, he didn’t know if he liked it. His face was burning, but he lifted his head to be heard clearly rather than continue trying to burrow into the pillow.
“What? Being small? I don’t! It’s so inconvenient! You have to climb or get a stool to reach high shelves, you need to strain your neck to look at people’s faces, nobody takes you seriously, and don’t even get me started on chairs!” he ranted, determined to try to change the subject from whatever weird emotion that was.
Jongler hummed agreement, but it sounded more placating than actually agreeing. The ‘uh-huh, sure, buddy’ of hums. Whatever. He’d take it.
Their hands continued traveling, reaching his lower back. Something audibly popped, and a feeling of pure relief shot up his spine. He made a noise high in his throat, unmuffled, and Jongler stopped dead. “You’s alright?”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m alright. Keep going. Please.” He was shocked that nothing around them was burning with how it felt like every nerve in his body was alight.
Jongler started moving again after a few seconds, and it still felt as amazing as it did at the start. If they wanted, they could make so much money doing this.
But they weren’t doing it for money. They were doing it for him, because he was tense, and they noticed, and wanted to help, because they loved him. The realization was accompanied by the feeling of something shifting back into place, and he gasped. Jongler didn’t stop this time, rubbing the area soothingly. Fuck, he loved them so much it made him lightheaded.
“Ah- I meant it earlier, when I said you’re really good at this.” He was fighting to stay in control of his voice, winning by the slimmest of margins. “Fuck, you’re strong.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m not pressing too hard, am I?” They sounded genuinely concerned, already starting to lighten their touch.
“No, you’re perfect, don’t stop—” Battat cut himself off before he could say anything more incriminating. Fortunately Jongler got the message, pressing harder again. Battat melted into the bed with a groan, pleased.
“What wazzat, Batts? I’m perfect?” Jongler asked, teasing. But their voice had a hint of breathlessness.
Battat was certain he couldn’t possibly blush more. He hadn’t meant to say that. He could back down, say what he meant and ignore it. Or… he could see where this goes.
Jongler made it easy for him, hands shifting up to easily encircle his waist as they worked through a knot of tension. Breathless words cascaded out, “Yes, yes, Jongler, you’re perfect, I love you so much, mmh-” All at once, the muscles relaxed, and he couldn’t hold back a moan at how good it all felt.
Battat heard Jongler swear under their breath. He felt intoxicated, slightly dizzy and loose in a way he hadn’t been while sober in years. If he wasn’t so relaxed, he was sure his head would be spinning of its own accord.
He looked over his shoulder at his partner. Jongler was clearly blushing (already a feat considering their innate stoicism), staring intently at Battat. Not at their hands, still moving, but at Battat’s face, watching his reactions. God, they were really affected, and Battat would never have known if he hadn’t looked.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, unable to hide the adoration in his tone. This time it was Jongler who looked away, blush deepening. Battat grinned.
“All that blush just from giving me a massage?” he teased.
Jongler’s light was starting to glow, and they stopped massaging to gesture wildly. “Oh, you’s one to talk! You’s blushing clear around ya whole head! And makin’ sounds like dat, it’s enough ta drive a guy ta madness!”
Battat stuttered for an embarrassing length of time, eventually getting out, “A-and whose fault is that?! You’re the one making me feel…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely rather than verbalizing details. Jongler was clearly willing to wait for the rest of the sentence. “Good like this,” he finished lamely.
In spite of his lackluster wording, Jongler smiled softly. “Dat’s right, I am,” they said, as if the thought was just occurring to them. They seemed to be essentially done with the massage, just kneading his back like Pluey occasionally did with blankets. It still felt nice, so he wasn’t about to start complaining.
Still, it felt… a little weird. To just be on the receiving end of this affection, with no expectation that he’d do anything but lay there and enjoy it. It was, admittedly, very relaxing. But still weird.
He felt tingly. Restless, almost. He wanted to return the favor, to do something nice for his partner, but he’d never given anyone a massage. Nearest thing was petting Pluey, and that didn’t really count for this.
As he started going through and mentally listing ways he could return the favor, Jongler squeezed the back of his neck again. “I can hear you’s thinkin’ too hard, Batts. Whaddya need?”
…He probably shouldn’t lie about this, even if it was a little embarrassing to admit. “I just… I wanna do something nice like this for you too.” He huffed, slightly frustrated. “I was trying to think of options, but you’re a really good distractor.”
Jongler chuckled, pressing a light kiss to the back of his head. “You’s don’t need ta do anything for me. I’m havin’ a great time just watchin’ you’s.”
His blush, which had started to recede, kicked back up into high gear. “Very funny,” he mumbled. Battat cleared his throat. “Seriously, though, if there’s anything, anything at all, let me know. I think you’ve reset my spine or something, I feel so loose.”
That actually made Jongler stop for a moment, considering. “Can I shake you’s, den? ‘Cause I’ve been wantin’ to for a while.”
Battat blinked. “Wait, really? That’s it? Hang on, lemme up, I need to look at you properly for this.”
Jongler gave him one final squeeze before letting him sit upright. A wave of dizziness soon followed, but that was expected. Stabilizing himself, he asked again, “You really just want to shake me? Really?”
Jongler was avoiding eye contact (more than usual, again, no eyes). “Yeah? I mean, unless it’s somethin’ weird, but you’s reacting like it’s nothin’, so… yeah?”
Huh. They were serious. And they were right, it wasn’t a big deal. It was a common social behavior among pippinses, giving each other a bit of a shake, and the connotations didn’t really change if you were in a relationship. It was just something like a hug, if a hug made you slightly dizzy and giggly. What felt strange was that shaking him was literally the only thing Jongler had asked for. Not even Battat doing something nice for/to them, just. They wanted to shake him around a little.
“I mean, yeah, you can if you want, I’m just a little surprised. You don’t want me to push your buttons or anything?” Jongler went from a fairly neutral expression to possibly the most flustered Battat had ever seen them, blushing vibrantly and light shockingly bright.
“What?! You’s— My— What?!?” they stuttered. Ah. He may have misinterpreted something.
“Is. Is it not the same as getting shaken?”
Jongler gave them an absolutely flabbergasted look. “Batts, if bein’ shaken is like gettin’ ya buttons pushed, den you’s pippinses are way too casual about it.”
“Oh. Is it bad?”
They hesitated, looking away. “Not bad, it’s just… real intense, see?”
He finally put two and two together, blushing. “Ah. Sorry. I see. That’s… maybe a little farther than I want to go today.” Jongler looked relieved.
“Glad we’s on da same page.” Jongler stood, picking up Battat under the arms with almost no effort (holy shit they’re strong, holy shit, holy shit). “Anything I should know first?”
Battat could already feel the giggles starting to build just from being picked up like this. It had been a while since he got a good shake, alright?! Sue him, he was excited! With a slightly wobbly smile, he answered, “Other than the basic ‘stop when I tell you to,’ I can’t think of anything. Go for it!”
Jongler smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Then he was being shaken back and forth rapidly. He felt weightless, his head spinning, laughter bubbling out of him uncontrollably. They stopped after a few seconds, and it took a bit longer for his head to stop spinning, rolling a four. He still couldn’t stop giggling, not that he was trying very hard. “Do it again!”
They did, and the wave of happiness was just as dizzying as his head spinning. He realized his hands were flapping, but the feeling just added to the near-overwhelming joy he was experiencing. They shook him longer this time, and it took even longer for his head to stop spinning. Five, he was being surprisingly lucky today! “Again, again!” He knew he sounded a bit childish, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
They kept going like that for a while, until the dizziness verged on nausea and Battat called for a stop. Blissed out of his mind, practically drunk on the feeling, he laid on the bed, still giggling occasionally as he waited for the room to stop spinning. Jongler was laying down with him, gently petting the top of his head.
“Thank you’s for lettin’ me do dat to ya. It was real fun, I like seeing you’s like dis.”
Battat giggled, hardly thinking straight. “Jongler, you can do this aaaany time ya want, promise. Unless I’m Mike, obviously. Pluey can too, you should tell ‘em.”
Jongler chuckled. “Oh, you’s gonna regret dat, Batts.”
“Pffff, as if! I feel goooood,” he said, stretching out luxuriously.
“Alright den, if you’s say so. Ya feel good enough to help me with dinner?”
Battat paused, taking stock of his body. Still extremely dizzy, and he felt like a carbonated drink. “I don’t think I can walk yet. Gimme, like, another ten minutes.”
Jongler sat up. “I really do need to start cookin’, is da problem.” They got a look, turning to Battat with a mischievous grin. “Although…”
The next thing he knew, Battat was being scooped up into a bridal carry. His head spun (not literally) at the change, and another round of giggles burst from him. “Dis alright?”
“Ehehe, yeah, it’s good!” he said, clinging to Jongler’s shirt. He would probably hate himself for this later, but for now, he was having fun. Cringing into a ball could wait.
Jongler carried him into the kitchen area, where he was gently deposited into a chair. True to their word, they started making dinner. It just then dawned on Battat how much time they must have spent together, if Jongler was already starting to cook for a meal with the three of them. A glance at the clock confirmed it, several hours had passed. Absolutely insane.
(…He would absolutely do it again, though.)