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Scott had read an article recently. It was from some bad teen girl magazine Knives had left laying around Stephen and Young Neil’s place after band practice, but Scott wasn’t one to judge information based on it’s source.
It had been titled: 11 WAYS TO MAKE HIM INTERESTED IN YOU! (AND KEEP IT THAT WAY!) So, naturally, he’d skimmed it.
He and Wallace were doing great. They were doing amazing, actually; Scott thought it was his best relationship ever. Granted, he thought that about most of the ones before, but this time he was definitely right, and he wanted to– as the article said– keep the sparks alive.
Most of the advice was boring, and he didn’t read it. But one had really stuck with him.
7) KNOW WHAT HE’S INTO!
Does the love of your life like blondes? Freckles? Curls? Someone who dresses more street? Or listens to classical music? Find out what makes your person tick!
There had been more, something about not changing yourself for someone and dumb stuff like that, but whatever. See, Wallace had a thing– Stacey had told him this– for guys with glasses. Some high percentage of the men he’d flirt and sleep with wore glasses. The boyfriends he stole from Stacey? Glasses. That time outside Knives’ school? He’d asked (joked?) about boys with glasses. Wallace liked glasses. Wallace also (for some reason) liked Scott.
So, theoretically, if Scott wore glasses, Wallace would like him double the amount.
The problem was that Scott did not need glasses. This hiccup stumped him for a good week. He had perfect vision, (he’d levelled up enough that he could max out his render distance and detail by the time he was fifteen) and so real glasses had no practical use. He’d sulked about this for a reasonable amount of time, much to Wallace’s ire and confusion, before coming up with the most brilliant idea:
Glasses, but fake!
They’d look every bit like real glasses, but the glass in them would be normal glass instead of seeing glass. That way Scott could wear them without risking any sort of debuff. The conceptualisation of this idea considerably brightened him for the few days afterwards– again, to Wallace’s unwarranted confusion– until he realised he had no idea where or how to get fake glasses from.
So, naturally, he called the person most knowledgeable on purchasable items the second Wallace left work. (Note: This is a lie. Wallace left for work at 9AM, and Scott didn’t wake up until 3PM.) The phone rang four times before the person on the other end picked up. “Ramona, where can I get fake glasses from?”
“Hi, Scott. I’m doing great, thanks for asking.” Ramona replied, monotone. “How are you doing?”
Scott ignored her. “Like real glasses, but the seeing glass is normal glass. Where can I get them?” He asked again, glancing at the front door periodically. His hand was tense, ready to slam the phone down if he heard keys jingling, or footsteps, or whatever.
“Yes, Scott. I know what fake glasses are.” She sounded exasperated. For why, Scott couldn’t even begin to understand. “Is this a Wallace thing?” She asked, and Scott could hear the eye roll. “Should you really be asking your ex to help you fulfil your boyfriend’s weird glasses kink?”
“I can’t ask anyone else!” Scott whined, slumping against the chair and kicking his feet. There was no point denying the glasses were for Wallace. What other reason would someone have for wanting fake glasses? “Stacey would tell him I asked, and everyone else is useless.”
Ramona scoffed. “Nice way to talk about your friends.” Scott whined, again. Louder this time. “Okay! Jesus– you can order them on Amazon, dude. They’ll be a couple bucks at most.”
“Thanks Ramona!” He cheered, slamming the phone down on the receiver before she could say anything else and zipping across the room to sit in front of the computer.
Fingers flying across the keyboard with practised ease, he clicked on the shortcut he’d made for Amazon when he’d been trying to date Ramona. Excitedly, he typed ‘fake glasses’ into the search bar.
1-48 OF OVER 6000 RESULTS
Scott huffed. Apparently people had already stolen his idea. How was he supposed to choose a good pair out of six thousand options? The worst thing he could do here was spend his own, (yes, his own, for once) money on a pair of stupid fake glasses that were the wrong shape or colour and have Wallace laugh at him. Jimmy’s stupid, nice face appeared in the corner of his vision. Thin, wire glasses. Slightly rounded.
Scott scrolled, and almost immediately found a similar pair. They were black, instead of gold, but they were a decent price and Amazon claimed if he ordered now, they’d be with him tomorrow. His cursor hovered over the ‘buy now’ button, as a new pop up blinked above his head.
WARNING: YOUR SEDUCTION NEEDS TO BE AT LEAST LEVEL 5* TO COMPLETE THIS ACTION SUCCESSFULLY. YOU ARE CURRENTLY LEVEL 3. PROCEED ANYWAYS?
[*VARIES DEPENDING ON TARGET.]
[YES] [NO]
Scott threw his head back, groaning in agony. “There’s always something!” It would take forever for him to level up his seduction– and Wallace was so experienced, he’d probably have to be closer to level seven, or even eight, to make any sort of effect!
He looked back at the screen. At his reflection in the darker parts of the display– weird length, weirdly textured brown hair (or was it ginger?), pale skin, crooked teeth… he wasn’t anywhere near conventionally attractive, but Wallace seemed to like him anyway. Even in outfits he’d scowl at and call ‘genuine acts of villainy against fashion, Scott’ he’d still kiss him and sprawl across him and cuddle with him.
“Ah, [BEEP!] it.” He muttered.
[YES] [NO]
Your order has been placed, and is on it’s way!
Scott tried very hard to act normal that evening, and the next morning. He thought he did a good job, (Note: He did not do a good job. He was weirdly jumpy, robotic, and kept sitting by the door.) and Wallace didn’t suspect a thing! (Wallace went to both bed and work incredibly suspicious.)
He waited all day for the package to arrive. Amazon claimed it would be with him between the hours of 11AM and 4PM, so he waited patiently by the door, too excited and stressed at the same time to be able to do anything else.
Hopefully Wallace had a good reaction. Scott was putting a lot of effort into this gesture, so a poor receival would probably crush his heart into pieces and leave him broken for days. He was already mentally preparing the schedule for his sulk if it didn’t go well, because he knew it would be a big one. Those things take planning, you know.
The package arrived at 3:58PM. The delivery boy– not Ramona, thankfully– barely got a word out before Scott was snatching the small package out of his hands and slamming the door in his face. The brown paper wrapping was glowing with a golden halo. It was a legendary item. Wicked.
He ripped it open right there in the doorway, the paper scattering across the floor. The glasses came in a small fabric pouch– totally innocuous in the palm of his hands. Scott held them with a reverence similarly given to ancient artefacts and the latest game consoles, carefully unfolding the arms and placing them gently on the bridge of his nose.
EQUIPPED: GLASSES
+(???) ATTRACTIVENESS
Well. That didn’t help, and he certainly didn’t feel any different. As a test, he took a look at himself in the mirror, doing all the sorts of expressions he thought he did around Wallace, to see if he looked any hotter while doing them. Results inconclusive.
He supposed the real judge was his boyfriend. Glancing at the time on the wall told Scott that he’d be home very shortly, so he elected to wander aimlessly around the apartment until he arrived. He was too pent up to sit still. He also cleaned up the discarded paper while he was at it. Yeah, he was going all out today.
It was weird having something on his face all the time. It gave him a strange new appreciation for Julie. She did this all day, the glasses thing, and she never made a big deal about it. Maybe she was cooler than he thought.
Scott spent the next ten minutes walking along the walls of the apartment, thinking about glasses, and the people who wore them. During his nineteenth circle, as he walked around the counter to start his lap of the kitchen, he heard them.
The jingling keys. Wallace was home.
He froze where he stood, watching as the door opened and shut, Wallace stepping in and instantly throwing off his scarf, coat, bag and shoes onto the floor. Without looking at Scott, he began to talk. “God– Thank god I’m home! Scott, you have no idea–” Scott bit his lip, watching Wallace put his stuff away as he spoke. Waiting with baited breath for him to look up and notice. Carefully, he turned to lean on the counter, trying to pose in an appealing way. “–It’s like, I work here! Of course I can do stuff you can’t. What paint fumes did your parents let you sniff as a–” Their eyes locked. “... baby.” There it is.
Wallace froze. Every muscle in his body went so still, Scott worried for a second that he’d managed to figure out a way to crash. “Uh– Wallace?” He asked, meek. At the sound of his voice, Wallace turned on his heel, and instantly disappeared behind the bathroom door with a slam.
… Okay. Scott didn’t know how to read that. “Wallace?” He called out, heart hammering in his chest. This was a bad idea. Wallace had definitely just locked himself in the bathroom so Scott didn’t see him laughing.
Just as he reached up to take the frames off his face, the bathroom door slammed open again. Scott jumped. Wallace stood in the doorframe, eyes wild, cheeks flushed a deep red colour Scott didn’t think he’d ever seen on him before. They both just… stared at each other for a minute, Wallace breathing so hard Scott could see his chest and shoulders rise from where he was across the room. Scott blinked.
Wallace tightened his grip on the bathroom door handle, shifting his weight on his feet. “Scott Pilgrim,” He began, voice strained. “What is on your face?”
Had he made Wallace stupid? “Glasses.” He replied. “Fake ones.”
“Why?” Wallace demanded, sounding kind of out of breath, and like this one act had cursed his entire bloodline. Scott shrugged.
“Thought you’d like them.” Wallace blinked, tipped his head back, and stared at the top of the doorframe in what looked like genuine agony for a few moments. “Do you not like them?”
This seemed to spur Wallace into action. In a flurry of movement, he crossed the room at a (maybe) record pace, appearing across from Scott so fast he almost thought he’d used a skip. Wallace stared at him for a second longer, eyes flitting rapidly across his face, before whispering a quiet curse under his breath and yanking Scott in for what was, inarguably, the best kiss he’d ever had in his entire life. Wallace’s hands held his face at the temples, pressing the metal arms of the glasses against his skin as he kissed him with a force he hadn’t ever experienced. Scott felt himself be pulled, as though by a magnetic force, across the counter; he had to brace himself with his hands to be able to lean as far as Wallace wanted him.
He truly forgot he needed to breathe for a solid thirty seconds. Judging by the sharp gasp Wallace did when he finally pulled back, so had he. They were both panting like teenagers, engaged in an intense staring match. Wallace’s pupils were blown so wide you could barely tell what colour they usually were. (A very nice grey, if anyone was curious.) He trailed a hand down Scott’s cheek, thumb coming to slide across his lips affectionately. “You are going to kill me.” He whispered. He was trembling a little. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“That seems a bit reductive.” Scott argued, though he was so breathless that his voice came out weak and cracked. “You graduated college.”
Wallace, like a man possessed, replied: “This is better.” And kissed him feverishly again. The counter suddenly became a major problem, because Scott needed to get closer to him, like now.
USE 5 DEXTERITY POINTS?
USE 10 STRENGTH POINTS?
USE 20 SEDUCTION POINTS?
[YES] [NO]
Scott had never selected yes faster in his life– without breaking the kiss, he inched his legs and body around the edge of the counter, grabbing Wallace’s collar to drag him along. Wallace probably didn’t even realise. As soon as Scott was free from his side, he snaked an arm around Wallace’s waist and hauled him onto the counter, earning an absolutely delighted noise from his boyfriend. He felt legs instantly encircle his waist, feet crossing at his lower back. “Where the hell did you learn that move, ey, guy?” Wallace asked, though each word was separated by a kiss, so it sounded more like: “Where– mmph, the hell– did– mmph– you lear– mm– learn that move– mmph! ey, guy?”
Scott thought about it for a second, causing a pause in their kissing. Wallace seemed more than happy to just stare, though. “Level three, I think?” He replied, but Wallace looked drunk. He looked like his mind was so faraway that nothing Scott said would reach him.
Still, “You’re such a moron, oh my god–” He groaned, a dopey grin on his face as he pulled him in again. Like Scott was air and he was a drowning sailor. Or something poetic like that– it was really hard to think when he was doing everything he was currently doing.
Scott had always liked kissing. He really liked kissing Wallace; there was something different about it, and he was convinced that it couldn’t get any better than it already had been. But, he had been wrong. Very wrong. Because every nerve in his body was currently on fire, and he definitely should’ve bought these glasses way sooner, and Wallace might just kill him if he kept kissing him like that.
Speaking of– he pulled back again, but this time he stopped Scott’s attempt to lean in. Holding his face away ever so slightly, Wallace took a few more moments to just stare at him, like some painting or something. He smoothed some of Scott’s probably wild hair out of his face. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?” Scott blushed. He hoped that was a good thing.
“So you do like them?” Scott clarified. Wallace practically laughed in his face, hopping off the counter and grabbing both Scott’s hands. As he began walking backwards towards their futon, leading the way, he grinned.
“Oh, I like them, guy.” He promised, spinning them around the second they reached the edge of it and pushing Scott to his butt. The image of Wallace Wells looming over him with that wild expression was definitely going to appear in so many of Scott’s dreams. All areas included. He tilted Scott’s chin up a little, bending ninety degrees at the waist to whisper in his ear: “Let me show you just how much.”
“Sooooo...” Scott started, later on, Wallace curled up against his back, hands interlocked in front of his stomach. The glasses, discarded– very carefully– by Wallace on the floor next to their mattress. “What’s the… thing? With the glasses?”
A very sleepy, tired out Wallace, replied with his nose buried in the nape of his neck: “Th’wha?” Scott didn’t repeat himself, knowing that Wallace’s brain would catch up in a few seconds. “Oh– hm. Dunno.”
Scott frowned, making the effort to look over his shoulder. He didn’t see much, other than a mess of black hair that looked like it still had imprints of his fingers in it, but the gesture was more important than the outcome anyway. “You don’t know?”
Wallace shrugged, shifting closer. “They’re just hot, guy. I like ‘em. Simple.” Scott laid his head back down, brows furrowed in confusion. Wallace began rubbing circles with one of his thumbs into Scott’s navel, which was really weirdly soothing. “Like ‘em ‘specially on you. We’re keeping them.”
If Scott hadn’t just experienced first hand what wearing glasses will get him, he might’ve objected. Because it was a weird thing to do, put fake glasses on to get his boyfriend’s rocks off– but man, if he didn’t benefit too. They made Wallace go weirdly feral, in a super hot way. “You think I’ve got anything like that?” He asked, more to himself than to Wallace. “My glasses?”
Wallace hummed behind him. “Maybe. If you keep putting those frames on for me, I’ll wear whatever crap you can come up with.”
[WALLACE WELLS] IS OFFERING A DEAL.
WHAT ARE YOUR TERMS?
[PLEASE ENTER HERE…]
Scott thought about it. There weren’t many things he could think of that would make Wallace hotter. All the cliche sorts of things entered and left his mind quickly– Wallace would look great, yes, but he felt like he needed to choose something not lame. A few minutes had passed of him racking his brain before the lightbulb finally appeared.
“Wallace?” He asked lowly, earning a sleepy grunt in response. “What size shirt are you?”
LOADING...
LOADING...
LOADING...
LOADING COMPLETE.
DUEL OF SEDUCTION
STAT READ: [SCOTT PILGRIM] VS. [WALLACE WELLS]
[SCOTT PILGRIM] (+100 ATTRACTIVENESS)
> EQUIPPED: GLASSES (+10000 ATTRACTIVENESS)
SEDUCTION SKILL LEVEL: 3
[WALLACE WELLS] (-5 DEFENSE)
> EQUIPPED: N/A
SEDUCTION SKILL LEVEL: 26
A SEDUCTION LEVEL OF (20) IS NEEDED TO SEDUCE [WALLACE WELLS]
[SCOTT PILGRIM] GAINS ADVANTAGE: “HE’S SCOTT PILGRIM”
A SEDUCTION LEVEL OF (1) IS NEEDED TO SEDUCE [WALLACE WELLS]
[SCOTT PILGRIM] GAINS ADVANTAGE: “GLASSES”
[WALLACE WELLS] DEFENSES DROP BY (-1000)
[WALLACE WELLS] USES (SELF RESTRAINT)
[SCOTT PILGRIM] COUNTERS WITH (GLASSES) AND (HE’S SCOTT PILGRIM)
[SCOTT PILGRIM] USES (ENDEARING OBLIVIOUSNESS)
IT’S INCREDIBLY EFFECTIVE!
[WALLACE WELLS] HAS BEEN SEDUCED!
GAME OVER.