Chapter Text
“And so he says that Fozzie and Walter have quit the muppets, which they haven’t, he tried to kill to them when they found out he wasn’t the real Kermit and they escaped by jumping on a different train-“
“Yes, you already described that scene to me,” Cavendish reminded him without looking up from his device.
Dakota was a little surprised he was listening. He thought he was just talking to himself at that point, seeing as Cavendish had thus far been silent. It was a malleable silence he was carrying, a comfortable one for Dakota to fill with pointless rambling. He recognized Cavendish’s silences, he knew how to interact with them. Cavendish was not upset or angry or afraid, he was just preoccupied with their mission. If you could call it a mission. It was more like doing the exact opposite of what you’re told to do, so the opposite of a mission.
“Uh, yeah, so he says that to the whole group of ‘em and this dude in the back he goes-he goes ‘wait, you can quit the muppets?’” Dakota snorted. Cavendish’s mustache twitched, but the timing was off, as if he didn’t get the joke and was only fighting back a laugh because of Dakota’s laughter. “It’s like, he thinks he can’t quit, he doesn’t want to be a part of the muppets and would leave-“
“I am more than capable of understanding the high brow humor of the muppets sequel,” Cavendish assured him with an eye roll, drier than a desert. He shook the device in his hands a little, then looked up, glancing around a little like he had forgotten which side Dakota was standing on. He didn’t know how someone could be so distracted and focused at the same time. Those baby blue eyes searching for a direction, even if he promises he’s already found it.
Dakota didn’t understand that-he didn’t understand a lot of things about Cavendish, but that one stuck out in particular. Cavendish acted like he knew exactly where he wanted to be in life, even though he clearly didn’t. He was more curious than he let on, with a young heart inside of him that yearned for something. Dakota could see it burning him up inside. He also saw him smothering that fire the best he could, choking on the smoke as he spoke every big word he knew, using the ashes to hide his natural hair color.
The older you were the more things you had figured out. Dakota supposed that was his logic behind it.
“This is the location. We only have a couple minutes before Brick and Savannah are supposed to show up,” Everytime Cavendish talked about them, he sounded defeated. It took him a while, and Dakota tried to ease him into it, but he eventually figured out that the other agents weren’t exactly fond of them. He had never been good with social cues, taking insults to his face without blinking because he didn’t realize they were insults. Dakota was thankful for it most of the time, he didn’t know what he’d do if Cavendish took it all to heart, but it also made him cringe so hard he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying anything.
What kind of person just looks the other way when their buddy is getting openly tormented? Dakota was a bad friend. Sometimes he even thought he was glad no one else liked Cavendish, so they could be outcasts together. Bad, bad friend.
“Dakota?” Cavendish snapped him out of it, cocking his head a little to the side. His eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, “are you paying attention?”
“Yeah, absolutely,” Dakota shook his head a little, to demonstrate him clearing his mind of other thoughts. “So how we killin’ the little fiend?”
Cavendish started walking away without answering him, but Dakota knew that just meant he had answered him in his head. When Cavendish was really focused, he forgot he had to say things out loud for people to hear him. Dakota had learned to just go with it. He would usually catch on. In that respect, they were pretty good partners, filling each other’s gaps. It looked good on paper, but didn’t actually mean anything. In practice, Dakota was as lousy a partner as he was a friend.
Cavendish found the pistachio plant that they were going to destroy, crouching down and flipping a couple of its leaves over. Dakota watched him, voicing his confusion with a joke, “Yeah, pretty sure that’s our guy, no need to get handsy.”
Cavendish shot a look his way. Dakota grinned. It was so easy to get him riled up. “I’m checking to make sure it doesn’t have nuts.”
Dakota whistled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You wanna check me next? Pretty sure I know the answer, but a second pair of eyes won’t hurt.”
He was so easily flustered, too. His face went red. It was a good look on him, really contrasted the green of his suit. He hissed in embarrassment, “You’re being purposefully obtuse.”
“I prefer ‘charming and witty,’ but sure,” Dakota snickered. “Seriously, why are you doing that?”
Cavendish cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “If we pulverize it after it’s ripened-“
“Oh, gross, somehow you made it more sexual,” Dakota made a face.
Cavendish sighed, standing back up and speaking painfully slow in successful attempt to annoy Dakota back, “The pistachio is the seed of the plant. Plants come from seeds. If we kill it and there’s still pistachios, another one can grow, and I can not even call you a child for this one because even a kindergartener knows this much.”
“Got me all buttered up just to kill the mood,” Dakota shook his head in mock disappointment. Done playing for the moment, he cracked his knuckles. “Are we good to kill it or what?”
Cavendish nodded, but before they could move, a high strung voice interrupted them, “Excuse me, sirs!”
Dakota raised his eyebrows amusedly at Cavendish. “I’m a sir now.” His amusement faded to mild disgust as he saw the owner of the voice fast walking towards them. “Oh no, it’s this guy.”
The crosswalk guard Elliot, some greasy creep who spends his free time harassing middle schoolers. “I noticed you’ve wandered from the designated park path, and while I’m not allowed to yell at people for that since that stupid family with the picnic complained to the board, I have to be sure you’re not committing any safety violations out here.”
Dakota sent a glance Cavendish’s way, silently pleading with him to deal with this guy so he didn’t have to. Cavendish tried to ignore him, but he turned up the puppy dog eyes until Cavendish caved. He put on that fake smile that had Dakota convinced he used to work retail, “Well, there’s no need to worry, we’re being perfectly safe.”
“Oh yeah?” Elliot crossed his arms over his nausea-inducing neon vest. “What are you two even doing over here?”
“We’re-“ Cavendish’s smile flickered, trying to think of a plausible excuse that would free him from the conversation as quickly as possible. His eyes kept jumping to the plant, and Dakota knew their time constraints must be driving him batty. He liked getting everything done in a timely fashion, and anything that prevented him from that was truly evil.
Cavendish glanced over at Dakota a couple times, moving his mouth slightly as the gears in his brain were turning as fast as possible. Dakota wondered if he was thinking things he meant to say out loud again.
“Well?” Elliot was getting suspicious. Worst case scenario was he stood there prattling about safety at them until Brick and Savannah arrived and saved the plant, spotting Cavendish and Dakota and figuring out their plot to stop them, getting them into bad trouble and keeping them away from the pistachios until they become sentient and take over the world again. So panicking was not out of the question.
Instead of panicking, however, Cavendish steeled. He clenched his fists firmly at his sides, straightening up and puffing out his chest like a prideful bird. He huffed, “We’re doing this.”
Cavendish grabbed the collar of Dakota’s tracksuit, practically lifting him off his feet as he leaned over to close the gap between them. Between their mouths. Cavendish was kissing him.
Cavendish was kissing him.
And he was using tongue.
He was actually making out with him quite fervently. How could someone who turned tomato red over every single joke be so wild? He pinned him up against a tree trunk like a deeply confused painting to free his hands for exploring. Dakota was finally close enough to feel the heat of that internal fire of his, flames licking at his insides and melting him into pudding against Cavendish. If he wasn’t sandwiched between the tree and Cavendish, he would be a puddle on the ground.
He opened his eyes hazily for just a moment, catching a glimpse of Elliot’s mortified face. “Th-this is out of m-m-my jurisdiction,” The young man stumbled away, muttering about condom use. If Dakota’s mind wasn’t exploding into fireworks, he would be laughing at him. In truth he wasn’t able to even make out what Elliot had said until a few hours later.
Cavendish pulled away in one quick, smooth action, gently lowering Dakota back onto his feet, but unable to pull his heart down from the clouds. Dakota blinked blearily, reaching back out for him like a puppy that wasn’t done getting pet yet. But Cavendish did not notice, turning to the pistachio plant and adjusting his tie. He began stomping on it as if he hadn’t kissed Dakota so thoroughly the man felt like he had been put in a blender set on high.
“Oh, sorry about that,” Cavendish spoke cheerily over the sound of snapping branches. “I just thought it would be the best way to get him, as you would say, ‘off our dicks.’” When Dakota did not laugh, he paused. He didn’t look concerned, not exactly, just kind of curious. “Are you angry with me?” There was the return of his signature nervousness, “Did I cross a line? I thought you would want him gone, but I should’ve asked-“
“S’fine,” Dakota finally managed. “You’re fine, it was fine. You did what you thought was best, and hey-” He motioned vaguely in the direction Elliot had scurried off to, “it worked.”
Cavendish looked relieved, getting back to crushing the plant. Dakota swallowed hard. There was no way those sparks weren’t mutual. “I didn’t-uh, I didn’t mind.” Dakota continued, heart secured back in his chest but trying to break out again, thumping against his ribcage and nearly dragging him to Cavendish’s feet. “Wouldn’t mind if you did it again.” His attempt at coolness was spoiled by his voice cracking uncharacteristically.
“Har har, very funny.”
I’m serious, I’ve never been more serious in my life, his heart screamed, but he clutched the fabric covering his chest to muffle it. He forced a smile, “How can you be so cold, Cav? What if that had been a real confession?”
Cavendish brushed his hands off, stepping away from the sad, mangled mess that was both the plant and his partner. He gave him a playful, disbelieving look. “From you?”
“I may not look it, but I’m a real sensitive fella,” Dakota loosened his grip on his tracksuit so he was just placing a dramatic hand on his chest. “Gotta lot of love to give.”
“Oh, sure,” Cavendish chuckled. “Madly in love with whatever girl happens to be passing by. True love has no name, and as far as you’re concerned, neither do they. I think you’d pass up on the chance for half of those women if you were offered a funnel cake in exchange.”
Dakota laughed, hiding his heartache easily. It was his only real talent. He had been pulling it off for years. “Maybe so. But can you blame me? It’s important to be true to yourself.”
“And how do you define that, Dakota?” Cavendish asked in amusement as he walked beside him, a spring in his step after their miniature success.
Dakota hummed, watching as their footsteps fell into the same rhythm. “Stayin’ fickle, keepin’ things light. I’m a jokester, through and through. But who knows, I might find the love of my life one of these days.”
“That’ll be for the best. Then you can stop playing with hearts.” Cavendish pretended to scold him. But there was a hint of some soft kind of sadness to it, as if Cavendish was truly concerned for the hearts that Dakota was messing with.
“Aw, come on, you know nobody’s actually fallen for me,” Dakota laughed him off.
Cavendish busied himself by fixing his tie again, despite having fiddled with it just a few minutes earlier. It was like he just wanted an excuse to avoid eye contact. Dakota gave him a little distance, sighing internally and accepting his fate. The only heart that mattered was never going to fall for him.
At least he had a kiss to remember him by.