MHP: Poor Decisions and Luck

Tethys had made his cozy nook below the stairs into something of a home.

He liked it there, even if many of the stitches who lived there still harbored an intense mistrust for him. He couldn't really blame them; he was just happy he had a place to stay, and people around him who wouldn't treat him like garbage. And of course, 95 was there, too, and she ensured no one treated him too badly.

Tethys had hung up a hammock and at 95's behest Crow, the dear thing, had drawn all over his walls, swirls and stars and all kinds of lovely patterns. 38, the only parent who seemed to harbor him no ill will, had found him a sheaf of paper, a pen nib, and a bottle of ink one day when she was scavenging, and now Tethys was able to write down all of his stories in his thin, spiky handwriting. It's what he was doing now, at a little after midnight, his ears trained on the door. It had been years since the bombs dropped, and the wasteland was starting to rebuild, with clans much like their own and loners like himself popping up and meeting each other and forming whole cities of their own. Of course, they wouldn't be as populous as human cities for a long time, but they were trying. 95 had gone out to a party that night at an old bank with Butterfly, and he was waiting for her to return. He always waited.

The children had been adults for nearly six months now, about the same length of time Tethys had been living there. Tethys tried to mostly keep to himself, and to stay out of the others' way: he was there as an uneasy truce at best. However, 95 had done and was still doing her best to convince the others that he wasn't a danger any more, never would be, and now they were almost starting to believe it. And, of course, every night that she was home, 95 would slip into Tethys's room and listen to stories, be it ones from before the war or one's he'd just written that morning. It was Tethys's favorite part of the day. He hated it when she was gone.

'But she's an adult,' he consoled himself as he wiped the pen nib free of ink. A fresh story sat before him, the ink still wet. 'She's making her own decisions, now. And she needs—' His thoughts were interrupted by a giggle from the door, and he sighed in relief, happy his Leetle was home safe. The next sound, a husky male laugh, made him frown. She'd brought a boy. He hated the boys she brought home: they were all macho jerks, intent on proving their machismo and always leaving her a wreck. He hated what they did to her.

Tethys stood and quietly peeked out of his nook to see a big, burly, striped fella, his arms around 95's waist. She put her hands on his chest and kissed him, relatively chaste but it left a burning sensation in Tethys's stomach.

"Well, this is my stop," she said, patting his chest once. "I'd better get to bed."

"Yeah? Where is it?"

"Dazo!" she giggled, whacking him lightly. "You were just gonna walk me home, remember?"

"What? No, I thought—"

95 pulled back, Tethys smirked at the hard look he knew was on her face. "You thought what?"

"All the other guys told me—"

"All the other guys? What kind of a girl do you think I am?"

"I thought you weren't a prude."

"Guess you thought wrong." 95 crossed her arms. "Get out."

"What? Baby, I—"

"Don't you 'baby' me, you—" 95 reached out to shove him away, but he caught her wrist and pulled her close. Tethys's eyes widened, but he was frozen in place.

"You owe me, sugarplum."

"Dazo, what the hell?! Let me go!"

"No."

Tethys watched this stitch, this man he didn't know force 95 to the ground, one hand clenched tight around her wrist and the other firmly gripping her shoulders and instantly snapped out of it. He roared, causing the pair to jump, and dashed out of his home below the stairs, charging, one hand balled up into a fist as he swung, hard and wild at the stitch. He caught him right in the side of the face, sending him to the ground (and more importantly, off 95) in shock and pain. Tethys leapt onto him, then, full of nothing but anger, hitting him wherever he could reach, not caring that the other stitch got a few swings with his sharp claws in, too, not stopping until he felt someone pulling him off.

"Tethys! Big, get off him!"

He turned to look at 95, his 95, and when he did, the stitch below him's fist glanced off his face, sending him sprawling with an, "Oof!"

"Holy shit!" the male cried, jumping up with a gleam of confusion and anger in his eyes. "You all are nutjobs!"

"Get out," Tethys growled, leaning up on his elbows, wincing as his left arm struggled to hold his weight.

"Happily!" The stitch turned on his heel and ran out, muttering, "Fuckin' whackos," under his breath.

"Oh, Big," 95 murmured, going to her knees by her old friend. "You're hurt."

Tethys looked at the stitching that connected his arm to his body, realizing with a start that it was ripped out. And now that the adrenaline was wearing of…yeah, that hurt quite a bit. "Ach. Da. I am."

"I'll get 27 up."

"No!" Tethys reached out to her with his bad arm, hissing and retracting it quickly, cradling it with his good one. "No, I—he dislikes me enough. Let him sleep."

"You can't sleep like this," 95 said, working his good arm around her shoulder and helping him stand.

"Nyet, but…I vill be fine. I'll write until others are up."

"Tethys—"

"Nyet, Leetle, I'll be—a-ah!" he cried out as a sudden flash of pain ripped through him, stumbling and clutching his good hand around 95's forearm.

95 frowned. "I'll do it."

"Vhat?"

"I'll do it, I'll stitch you up. I can stitch, it's not that hard. I've seen it done tons of times."

Tethys's eyebrows contracted. "Vell, da, but have you ever actually—"

"Look, you have three options here," 95 said, leading him over to the medical station as though it was already decided (which it was, honestly). "You can either one, let me stitch you up, two, sit consumed with pain until morning, or three, get 27 up. Your choice."

Tethys stared at her for a moment, then chuckled weakly and sat on the brick they used as a sickbed. "You are so mean to me."

"I'm the meanest." 95 laughed weakly as she looked over the spools of thread off to the side. "Color preference?"

"I guess dere's no blue."

"Fresh out."

"Purple, den. Ees a good color."

95 threaded a needle with pale purple thread and knotted the end, overlapping the ripped cloth on Tethys's shoulder and beginning to quietly stitch it closed. They were silent for a moment, the only noise the soft sound of the needle making its messy stitches. "It's not as nice as if 27 did it."

"Ees okay."

Another long pause. "Thank you."

"For vhat?"

95 looked at him with a wry smile. "Don't play dumb, Big."

Tethys sighed, not quite meeting her eyes. "He vas going to hurt you."

"Why were you even awake? Not that I'm complaining, I just—"

"I'm alvays avake." Tethys finally looked at her, a small, sad smile on his face. 95 had concern written all over hers. "I vait until you're home."

"But—sometimes I don't come home. Sometimes I stay out all night."

"Da, I know. On dose days…I do not get much sleep." He grinned at her, that uncertain, crooked grin of his. "I…I vant to make sure you're safe, Leetle. I almost let you get killed vonce. I'm never letting dat happen again. Tink of it as…repaying my enormous debt." 95 said nothing, only looked down at the stitches and bit her lip, trying to keep her emotions from betraying her. "Vhy do you go out vith guys like dat?"

"I don't know," 95 replied with a sad laugh. "I don't—normally. You know, guys that bad. Mostly it's just…guys." She finished the final stitch, knotting it around her finger and snipping off the loose thread with a small pair of scissors. "I don't know. I don't like being alone…but I'm scared to be with someone in the long term, I guess."

Tethys took her hand in both of his own, holding it tightly. She looked up at him as he said, firmly, "You vill never be alone. Okay? Never. Not so long as I live."

95 was silent for a long moment, not daring to break the stare between them, her heart spinning in her chest, before nodding and sitting beside him. She wrapped her arms around his middle, nestling herself under his arm like she had done so many times before, but this time was…different. Tethys held her and made comforting noises, running his fingers absentmindedly down her red arm. "Oh, Big, Big…what are we doing?"

"I don't know." He moved his hand to her hair, squeezing her slightly as he did. He felt the wool yarn in his fingers, a familiar softness he'd felt many times, and everything—clicked. Of course he loved her. Of course. She was the only person to ever treat him decently right from the get-go, he wanted to take care of her, hell, he'd given up everything he ever knew to keep her safe. She taught him what real love was. She and he just…fit.

"You okay, Big?"

He hesitated before answering. "Ve…have known each other so long."

"Since before I got my upgrade."

"Your parents vill have a fit."

95 laughed, giving him a squeeze. "My parents have a fit about everything."

"I am older dan you."

"Yeah, a little bit."

"Your brother vill try to kill me."

"Probably." She leaned back and looked up at him. "Do you not…?"

Tethys smiled and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Give me a few days. Talk vith your parents. Let me tink it out. All right?"

"All right." She stood, pulling him up with her, and leaned up to press her lips right on the corner of his mouth. She hesitated before whispering, "I love you, Big."

"I love you, too, Leetle." He gave her one more squeeze, then held her at arms' length and grinned. "Now, ve both need sleep. I vill speak to you," he poked her face, "in de morning."

She giggled. "All right." With one final squeeze of his hands, she danced her way up the stairs, Tethys looking after her fondly.

"She's a good kid," said a voice behind him, causing Tethys to whirl around and his eyes to widen. 5-6 held up his hands. "Relax. Just me."

"Oh." Tethys did not relax. "You saw dat."

"I did." He grinned knowingly. "So…Big and Leetle."

"I guess." Tethys laughed nervously, forcing himself to relax. "I am unsure. It's not dat I don't love her! I do! A lot! Um…." He blushed furiously, not daring to meet the smirking stitch's eyes. "It's just…I vorry. She could do much, much better dan me. And ve have known each other so long. Vould ve even…?"

"Of course you're worried," said 5-6 after a moment, putting a hand on Tethys's shoulder and steering him back towards his nook. "It's scary realizing the platonic love you have had for someone for a long time isn't so platonic. I went through it myself. But riddle me this: do you love her?"

Tethys thought for a moment, then nodded and looked up at 5-6, answering, in a hoarse voice, "Da. Da, I do."

"Then you'll be fine." He clapped Tethys on the shoulder and sent him into his room. "Get some rest. You'll need it to deal with her parents tomorrow."

"Tank you." He looked at 5-6 quizzically. "Vhy are you being so nice to me?"

"Perhaps because I see a lot of myself in you. Head over heels for someone who couldn't love you the way you did them, and then trying to realize your feelings for someone you shouldn't love. It sucks. But it will get better. I mean, look at me." 5-6 looked over at his own home with the most pure, unfiltered love in his eyes Tethys had ever seen. "I can say, without a doubt, that I am the happiest, luckiest, most loved stitch in the wastes. I'm the stupidest thing in the universe and somehow he still loves me. I didn't accept that at first. But now…I wouldn't trade it for anything." He looked back over at Tethys and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. Just let love in and everything else will work out."

Tethys gave him an emotional smile. "Tank you, 5-6. I vill remember that."

5-6 wagged his finger at him mock-seriously. "See that you do." He laughed and dropped the curtain to Tethys's room, listening to the younger stitch crawl into bed and sigh, sounding conflicted but altogether happy. Satisfied, 5-6 climbed up to the popcorn machine, tumbling in. The curtains were drawn, leaving the machine nearly completely encased in darkness; but out of the door, a tiny shaft of light illuminated the doll curled up on the pile of blankets.

"5-6?" 27 asked, lifting himself up on his elbow. He sounded half-asleep. "'Zat you, love?"

"It's me." 5-6 crawled over and fitted 27 back into his arms, nuzzling his face against his hair. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

27 rolled over and kissed his mate. "Where did you go?" he asked, reaching up to stroke 5-6's face. "It wath cold without you."

"Sorry, I was restringing the banjo and got to talking with Tethys." He heard 27 make a small noise of disapproval and cuddled him closer. "Don't be like that. I think the kid's okay. He's going through the same stuff I went through all those years ago."

"With 95?" 5-6 nodded and 27 pursed his lips. "56 ith gonna freak."

"Yeah, 39 won't be much better. But…" he sighed and smiled fondly at the small creature in his arms. "I love you."

27 grinned. "I love you, too."

5-6 placed a hand on 27's cheek, guiding him up to his lips and giving him a soft, loving kiss, the kind of kiss that fills you with a warm glow that rests in your belly for days. After several long moments they broke apart and 5-6 curled around his tiny mate, beginning to hum him to sleep, still the luckiest stitch in the wastes.