Chapter Text
You met Black at exactly Ass o'Clock in the morning, serving him coffee at the coffee shop you worked at, and somehow, despite his permanent scowl, he was more chipper than you would ever be.
He returned every morning, insisting that you be the one to make his coffee, though how anyone can fuck up black coffee with room for cream was beyond you. Eventually, after a few months, you realized that he meant that he found you to be the only tolerable person there, and didn't like ordering from anyone else. Eventually he asked you out, rather bluntly, and you agreed.
The date was awful. There was no chemistry whatsoever between the two of you and it was awkward at best. The talking was fine, great, you had a lot in common and got along famously--but anything even remotely resembling romance was, well, weird and uncomfortable. However, at the end of the night, he could only laugh. It felt a little weird, seeing that sharp scowl lift into a smile and a laugh, but you couldn't argue with his sentiment that it was funny.
"WELL, SINCE THAT WAS A BUST, I GUESS THERE'S NO REASON WE CAN'T BE FRIENDS."
And so, you became friends, best friends, and he became a part of your life forever.
Was it bad, how much you hated Mutt? Was it wrong of you, as Black’s best friend, to so completely despise his shit-talking older brother?
It can’t be wrong, you reason, because he hates you just as much. He makes snide remarks at you, about your clothes, your hair, your anything really as long as it’s something to pick at. He mocks you when you’re trying to be serious, he pulls faces at the back of your head when he thinks you aren’t looking, and you’re pretty sure you could draw his middle finger from memory.
So, a mutual hate. A re-hate-tionship, if you will. You said that once, and he laughed, and then he looked so upset with himself for at least three days. Black has begged you both to get along, but honestly he’s given up at this point–-as long as nobody is throwing anything he lets you dance your dance of disapproval.
You’d asked him once, what you ever did to him, and he replied that you were a human of unknown intentions hanging around his brother…and you assumed that your retaliation had lit the flames to you being a bitch, which fed the hate. It isn’t like you didn’t try to be civil (okay it was rare but sometimes you tried) but it’s hard to stay nice when three seconds after entering the house you’re being insulted.
Today was no different, of course, you weren’t sure what you’d expected when you’d come over for dinner. He hurled his usual insults at you, but this time he somehow hit a sensitive spot.
“why the fuck’re we feeding you, too, again? honestly you could probably fit t'skip a meal, flesh-bag.”
You stiffened immediately, and Black noticed. His face was full of fury, ready to tell Mutt off, but he didn’t say anything when you sharply shook your head.
But it was too late, he’d noticed your lack of response. He didn’t make another stab at your weight, at least not right away, but he smirked like he’d won something as you stabbed at your salad, perforating it over and over but ultimately pushing it away.
You weren’t very hungry anymore.
It was halfway through the night, the movie still barely ramping up through the action, when he broke from his usual game of begrudging silence to take another crack at you.
“yer movie picker is shit,” he said simply.
“It’s a classic, everybody likes this movie,” you huffed. “At least, anyone who isn’t a complete degenerate. Guess I can’t expect you to have any sort of taste, not like me and Black.”
That earned a snicker from Black, almost a stamp of approval, and Mutt scowled. You only smiled back sweetly.
“i dunno if you can talk ‘bout taste, do y'even taste the snacks you shove in yer face? or are y'just hooverin’ them down?”
You pressed your lips into a thin line of displeasure, your free hand not holding the popcorn moving to Black’s knee, squeezing as you felt him tense beside you. You don’t respond, glaring at the TV in front of you, but you do put the popcorn aside, instead crossing your arms and wholly ignoring his presence.
It’s fine. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t been horrible to him on other nights. You insulted him just as much for things he might be sensitive about–his scars, his golden tooth, other appearance based insults you’d be ashamed to repeat to your mother. Maybe if he didn’t get a reaction, he’d poke at something else and leave your eating habits alone.
At the very least his little victory kept him in smug silence until the credits rolled.
“PERHAPS WE SHOULD SEND THE LEFTOVERS HOME WITH YOU, MY DEAR,” Black said, bundling the last of it into a Tupperware. “DON’T THINK I DIDN’T NOTICE YOUR LACK OF APPETITE TONIGHT.”
“M'fine,” you said, waving away his thinly veiled concern. “You guys keep it.”
“a shocking twist of generosity,” Mutt added in a bored tone from the living room.
“I’m sorry, did I ask you? Or in some way imply that I was talking to you at all?” You huffed, glaring at him as Black rolled his eyelights, packing the Tupperware into your bag. “You know, you’d be a lot more fun to be around if you didn’t spend every waking moment being an asshole.”
“i don’t spend every moment being an asshole,” he chuckled, leaning over the half-wall that separated the kitchen and the living room. “it’s somethin’ i can turn off, so if that’s my worst trait at least m'pretty.”
“Gag me,” you spat.
“now there’s an image.”
“Ew!” You scoffed, turning away from him to look at Black with exasperation.
“it’s a date, then?” He laughed.
You looked back at him, horrified. “No, no, not a date, definitely not a fucking date. If you think you’re coming anywhere close to my mouth with any filthy fucking part of your body–”
“what, i thought you liked a little sausage?” He practically purred. “y'certainly eat like ya’d suck a mean dick.”
“MUTT! THAT IS ENOUGH!” Black said swiftly, but the damage was done.
It seemed he had found his new Favorite Thing to poke at about you. The unbothered look on his face as Black raised his voice at him was enough to make that blindingly clear, and you set your jaw, fists clenching as you glared at him.
“I eat like everybody else!” You said finally, hands shaking in your rage. “I’m not fat!”
“OF COURSE, HE DIDN’T MEAN IT THAT WAY–” Black tried, and you shook his hand off your arm.
“He did mean it that way!” You flipped Mutt off, with gusto. “Fuck you, and that isn’t an invitation.”
With that, you took off, storming out and onto the terrace. You would have left completely but your stuff wasn’t all together yet and you didn’t fancy coming back for it in twenty minutes. You slammed the sliding glass door as good as you could and dragged a deck chair to the edge of the balcony, plopping down and leaning on your crossed arms, staring down into the trees and foliage behind the building.
You could hear Black blowing up on Mutt inside, though the soundproofing was good enough that you couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, only the tone of it. He knows all about your history with your eating disorder, you’d broken down and cried to him after he’d asked you one too many times if you’d gotten enough to eat.
You understand that underground, resources were scarce, and that’s why he always makes sure you’ve eaten enough. He’s been good about his wording since then, carefully asking if you have everything you need, with heavy implications that he means food. It’s worked thus far, and sending leftovers home was kind of his way of saying he loved you.
You assume, then, as you calmed down a bit, that Mutt really meant no offense when he said you eat well. It was probably a compliment, even, as veiled as it was. And it wasn’t like you’d ever opened up to him about your strained relationship with food and your weight, hell, you'd never opened up to Mutt about anything at all. He probably thought it was funny that a small compliment made you clam up in a way his insults never had.
The door slid open behind you and you sighed, closing your eyes. “It’s fine, Black, I’ll get over it.”
“good, here i thought i’d hafta apologize.”
You huffed and turned a glare on Mutt as he closed the door behind him. That was not your best friend as you had expected. “What, did he make you come out here to say sorry? Well, you can save it, I don’t take insincere apologies.”
“actually, he told me he’s fed up with how i treat you and that he didn’t want to see me within a mile of ya again.” Mutt pulled up the second terrace chair and took a seat. “but i don’t think i can do that.”
“What, come to make fun of me, then?” You hissed, leaning back and glaring over at him. “Maybe call me names? Make pig noises?”
“i wouldn’t do that,” he said, seriously. “i pick my words pretty carefully, you know, if i’d'a known you had a thing about food i woulda picked 'em even more carefully.”
“Since when do you give a shit about my feelings?”
“always,” he said, and you snorted, disbelieving. “we may not get along, but yer important t'sans, that makes you important t'me. an’ you ain’t nothin’ but beautiful, so i guess i didn’t think that you’d take it as me callin’ you fat.”
“First you insult me, and now you lie to me.” You stood up, and he looked right up at you as you loomed over him the best you could. “Anything else? Maybe poke fun at my dead mom, or fake-ask-me-out?”
“why would anyone fake asking someone out?” He asked, genuinely surprised. “i’m a mean bitch at heart, so is sans, but we’d never do that.”
You huffed. “Well then congrats, you’re better than the kids I went to school with. Barely.”
He hummed thoughtful and you were about to turn and leave him behind–
“wanna fuck?”
Slowly, you turned around, looking at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry?”
“i said,” he stood, crowding you against the balcony fencing, his hands on either side of you. “wanna fuck? you an’ i might not get along, but you’re fine as fuck, i’m not so bad, and i gotta bed we can work out our aggressions on. so, wanna fuck?”
You inhaled, hands on his chest and ready to push him away…but you’re due for some stress relief and if anything you can trust him not to get attached, and despite being the opposite of friends you trust he’d never do anything to hurt you, if only for his brother’s sake.
“You know what?” You breathed, straightening your posture. Your hands went from pushing to gripping his shirt. “Yeah. Let’s fuck. You’ve had worse ideas.”