ducky!Blush
So I finally finished B's prompt from, oh, several millenia ago. I'm not sure if it's in character, but...it's insanely fluffy, which either makes up for it or will send everyone who reads it into diabetic shock and then it won't be a problem that it's OOC because everyone qualified to determine that is comatose. /ramble

Thanks to second_batgirl for beta-ing. Title is from the Cole Porter song "I Love You," which is actually really applicable to the fic as a whole. Mmm, fluff.






The Old Melody


Kid Blink Ballatt was in a good mood. He’d sold all his papes early, and one kind-faced lady in a carriage had given him a dollar. A whole dollar. Plus, it was the first really warm day of spring, and he was with his favorite person in the whole world. Yes, this was a good day.

As he and Mush strolled luxuriously through the park, Blink pondered all the ways he could use his dollar.

“The biggest bag of candy you ever seen, Mushie, all for me and you. Or a fancy box seat down at Medda’s—”

“Nah, don’t waste it at Medda’s when she always lets us in for free,” Mush said. “Here, let’s sit by the lake.”

The boys flopped down on the cool, dew-damp grass and looked out over the water. It was a still sort of day, and the smooth surface of the tiny lake was broken only rarely by the breeze.

Blink turned his head so he could look at Mush with his good eye. The sunlight fell through the leaves above them, gilding dappled patterns on Mush’s skin, and every now and then a chance breeze ruffled his curls. This was where Blink’s happiness was, in the calm still moments with Mush and the quiet simplicity that was so rare after the strike. He watched a mother duck leading her brood into the water and smiled as the last one tumbled in with an ungainly splash.

“Wonder how much a new pair of shoes costs,” he mused aloud, leaning back on the heels of his hands.

“More’n a dollar,” Mush replied. “Two at least.”

Blink sighed. “You’ll haveta wait till I come into my fortune for your matchin’ laces, then.”

“Aw, Blinkie.” Mush nudged his shoulder and Blink nudged him back, feeling that odd heat that flared in his stomach more often than not when he touched Mush.

He bit his lip and tried to ignore it. “Or maybe I’ll take one of my girls out for a night on the town. Show her a good time, eh?”

Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Mush stiffen, but he couldn’t be sure—his peripheral vision wasn’t the best. Besides, he was distracted by the sight in front of him. One of the ducklings, a gawky-looking yellow one, had ducked underwater and seemed to be having difficulty righting itself. Blink laughed out loud as the little thing splashed and fluttered until its mother, looking long-suffering, paddled over, took the duckling’s tail in her beak, and yanked him back into the proper position. The duckling squawked feebly, but the mother was too busy scolding in her honking voice to listen to his protestations.

“Heh. Goofy little guy,” Blink said. “His ma reminds me of you, Mushie, always fussin’.” He rocked into Mush again, liking the heat of Mush’s bare arm against his own and the solid presence of his friend. But Mush didn’t give with him or nudge him back, just sat and stared straight ahead, jaw tight.

Blink cocked his head. “Mush?”

For a minute there was no answer at all; then Mush stood up with a curt “We should get back,” which wasn’t really an answer either.

Blink scrambled to his feet and followed Mush down the path, utterly perplexed. “Mush, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

“It ain’t nothin’.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Like hell!” Blink grabbed Mush’s shoulder and spun him around. “Talk to me, Mush. What’s the matter?”

Mush let out a long, low breath, as if he was trying to keep a hold of his temper. “I don’t want to be your mama duck.”

Blink stared at him for a minute. “That…that don’t make no sense, Mushie.”

“Don’t call me that!” Mush snapped.

Blink blinked. Mush had snapped. “…I always call you that, Mushi — Mush.”

“Well, maybe I never liked it!” Mush shouted, flinging his arms out. Blink had seen Mush mad before, but never like this, and it was usually because he’d done something stupid (and knowing him, it was the same situation now, but he couldn’t think of what he’d done).

“Did you ever think of that, Blink?” Mush demanded, and his face was flushed and scowling, the face that Blink had always thought so handsome, like an actor on the stage, or one of those old Greeks in the primer back when he used to go to school. “Do you ever think of what someone else wants? What I want?”

“’Course,” Blink replied, wounded. “I think about you alla time.”

“Don’t lie to me, Blink, I ain’t stupid. You think about three things—girls, food, and more girls.”

“That ain’t true.” Mush turned away and Blink grabbed him again. “You hear, Mush Meyers? That ain’t true.”

Mush glanced down to where Blink’s pale fingers stood out against the darker curve of Mush’s bicep.

“Let go of me.” But he didn’t struggle.

“No.”

“Dammit, Kid, let go!”

“No!” And Blink grabbed Mush’s other arm, and Mush looked like he was near tears, and Blink wasn’t having that, so he leaned forward and tilted his head and kissed his best friend, square on the mouth.

Mush tensed as he did so, and Blink was just thinking that, all right, perhaps it was an odd thing to do, but then Mush’s lips fell open a bit and the cords of muscle in his arms relaxed under Blink’s hands and he sighed, just a little.

Oh.

Blink pulled away and looked at Mush with newfound understanding. “Is…is that why you was mad?”

Mush’s cheeks flushed dark, and he looked at his feet. The tingle that always burned in Blink’s gut when Mush did something especially pretty roared, and his chest felt oddly tight.

“Oh.” Blink bit his lip. “Well, if that’s all...”

Mush gave him a questioning look. “If that’s all?”

Blink couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “You’re real dumb sometimes, you know that, Mushie? I told you I think about you alla time.”

A grin made its way across Mush’s face, slow and warm as sunrise. “Guess I am,” he said.

They looked at each other until their smiles became too bright to bear and Mush bent to pick up the jacket he’d shedded. “C’mon, we gotta hurry or the afternoon edition’ll run out.”

Despite his words, though, the boys took their time strolling down the lane under the verdant canopy of the trees. To the untrained eye nothing had changed; but there was a slight punch-drunk stagger to the walk, a darting glance here, a fumble of hands reaching for each other there, and two grins that threatened to outshine the sun.

“So whattya gonna spend your dollar on?”

“Ain’t you been listenin’, Mushie? I gotta plan. I gotta strategize…”

“You gotta screw loose, that’s what you got.”

“Ah, so’s your old lady.”