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This was not how Marco had envisioned his Saturday night. On a date. With Tom. They may have gotten closer over the years but almost all of their hanging out had been with Star present and mediating the two boys until they had adjusted to one another.
Technically, it wasn’t a date as their original plans had included a third party as well, but Star being Star had canceled last minute. Marco was just letting Tom in when Star ran past him out the door and yelled something about Janna and Girl’s Day in between her excited squeals.
After Star disappeared through the use of her dimensional scissors, Tom’s face contorted from an expression of shock to one of anger. “Uhh, Tom? You, okay there?” It took ten seconds of heavy breathing and furrowed brows in deep concentration, but Tom opened his eyes, all traces of his anger gone. When Tom looked back at him, Marco almost wished he’d stayed mad. Because the expression that currently rested on Tom’s face was even worse. It was subtle but with Marco’s trained eye, he spotted the tiny frown, the slumped eyes, and the dejection on Tom’s face.
“I guess I’ll just go then,” he said and stepped towards the flaming hole in Marco’s driveway.
“Wait!” Marco said, grabbing Tom’s elbow. Shit. Marco knew he was going to regret this, but he couldn’t help it when Tom looked like that. Curse his kind and caring ways! “Why don’t we just go by ourselves? I mean if Star’s having a Girl’s Day or whatever we might as well have a Guy’s Day right? Besides we already have the tickets and everything.”
Tom stared at him. Marco was starting to sweat. “I-I mean only if you want to. Which you probably don’t because it was a stupid idea and all, but I feel like we’re pretty good friends now. Wait, we are friends, right? Because--”
“Marco! Breathe. And, yeah, of course we’re friends. I just thought you might not want to go with me, but if it’s cool with you then let’s do it.” The boys grinned at each other, nervous but excited. Boy, had that been a mistake.
--
When they got to the concert venue via Tom’s fiery and badass chariot, the boys were jumping with excitement for the band they were about to see. Tom had told Marco that while his music taste mainly consisted of Undead Rock and Demonic Rap, this Earth band was one of the best, and he’d been wanting to see them live for months.
“It’s probably better that Star’s not here anyway.” Marco looked at Tom, astonished. Even if he was mostly over Star, he had never heard Tom say that he didn’t want her around. Tom caught his expression and quickly explained, “It’s just that she never really appreciated their music. I tried to get her to listen to them when we were together, but she just brushed it off and made fun of me for liking them.” Marco winced. He loved Star, she was his best friend, but he knew better than anyone that she could be insensitive and inconsiderate at times. Purely by accident, of course, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. “Yeah, they are kind of an acquired taste,” Marco said, trying to improve Tom’s mood before they went in, “but lucky for you, they are just my cup of tea.” Marco winked at Tom and he was answered with a deadpanned stare from three eyes. After a few minutes of their staring contest, Tom’s third eye watered and blinked shut for a second. “I’m going to count that as you winking back at me,” Marco said and both of them broke down laughing at his bad joke. “Alright, let’s go in before you hurt yourself trying to cheer me up.” Marco glared at Tom, but he was already exiting the carriage. He grumbled and scrambled out after Tom, taking in the club that the concert was being held at. It was called Sickboys’ Bad Habit Lounge and reeked of poor life decisions and illegal behavior. Where the hell had Tom taken him?
Tom stepped in the direction of the grimy club but stopped when he felt a hand grip his wrist, pulling him back. “Uh, Tom, is this, the, um, the p-place? Not that it m-matters or anything because I, a misunderstood bad boy, obviously frequent places like this all the time, but a-are you sure this is safe? I mean for your sake, of course,” Marco squeaked, his grip on Tom’s wrist tightening the longer he stared at the menacing building. Tom smirked at Marco but when the kid started literally shaking in his shoes, he sighed. Ignoring the plethora of insults and jokes that sprung to his mind all of which were directed at the friendly neighborhood safe kid in front of him, Tom took pity on him and said, “I’m the immortal ruler of the Underworld, Marco. If anyone should be scared, it should be them,” his tone softened, “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“W-What? I’m worried about you, man. If my karate is good enough to beat a bunch of monsters twice my size, anyone in there is no threat at all,” Marco said which was probably true, but the break in his voice gave away that he wasn’t convinced.
“Come on. Let’s go before all the good spots are taken.” Marco dragged him toward the entrance, still visibly shaking but unwilling to show his fear. Tom rolled his eyes. Humans.
--
The building was vibrating with noise and the first thing Marco noticed when he surveyed the bar was how much he obviously didn’t belong here. Sure, no one would probably notice because the place was packed full of people that towered over him, melding him into the sea of bodies with every bounce of the beat. Tom, on the other hand, blended in seamlessly. Well, as seamlessly as a teenage fire demon with horns, a third eye, and purple skin could blend in, but his outfit matched the scene perfectly. He was wearing a white shirt with a ripped collar and missing sleeves that had a burning skull on it and black skinny jeans and combat boots. For once in his life, Marco’s red hoodie did not give him a feeling of safety and comfort, and he regretted wearing it. He shrugged it off and tied it around his waist before they entered the throng of crazed concert goers, glad he had worn a black T-shirt underneath as that seemed to be the favorite color of everyone in this fine establishment.
Marco quickly slid to his right as a laughing girl with spiky, green hair sloshed her drink in the spot he’d been standing seconds before, narrowly missing him. That was when he noticed the aroma. If he could even call it that. The place smelled like cigarettes and alcohol and all sorts of other things the safe kid had definitely never sniffed before. His eyes widened and he spun towards Tom, his stomach sinking as he feared the worst. “Tom, I am allowed to be here, right? This isn’t illegal or anything?” Tom snickered at Marco’s question but covered it with a cough. They were at a bar and a particularly shady one at that but the show was all ages. That didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun with Mr. Goody Two Shoes though. “Why do you care? You’re a misunderstood bad boy, right? You must sneak into places like this all the time,” Tom said, barely containing his amusement. Marco spluttered out excuses, but Tom had taken hold of his arm before he could chicken out and bolt. “Come on, they’re going on in five minutes, and I want to be at the front.”
Tom yanked him forward but Marco didn’t see how he planned on breaking through the impenetrable wall of punk rockers in front of them. “And just how do you plan on getting through th--”
Tom’s skin bubbled and Marco saw steam seep out of the purple exterior.
“Ow!”
“What the fuck?!”
“Shit! What was that?!”
Tom walked through the panicking crowd calmly, towing Marco behind him as they parted like the Red Sea to avoid his scorching skin. When the boys got to the front, the band they’d come for was just getting ready to start. Perfect timing. “Oh. That’s how, I guess,” Marco said, slightly impressed but not willing to condone Tom’s questionable methods. “Duh. Fire demon, remember?” Tom said, a smug grin fashioned on his face. Marco, unable to come up with anything witty at the moment, stuck his tongue out at him. That’d show him to be an overconfident bastard. Tom sharp teeth flashed in the blue light of the stage as he laughed at Marco. The band introduced themself and stroked their instruments. Tom howled for them when loud, pulsing music filled the cramped room. Marco felt the world shake around him and his chest swelled with the excitement that he had previously thought was exclusively for adventures with Star in other wild dimensions. Usually Earth paled in comparison but he could feel how amazing it was right now. But maybe it wasn't about where he was. Tom smiled at him and they were pressed against each other, impossibly close but somehow managing to move to the music. Marco’s blood was pounding and his heart was beating in his ears as he danced with Tom. He could feel his cheeks burning and knew that his dark skin had probably turned bright red but he found that he didn’t care. He felt alive, and he felt alive with Tom. That was all that mattered right now.
--
Turns out that Tom was right. He would take care of him. And everyone else in the building by setting them on fire. Marco wasn’t even sure why he got so worked up about it anyway. It’s not like he was actually hurt or anything. The band they’d come to see had finished their set in about an hour and they’d decided to stay after hearing the next band’s great guitar player. Oh, how Marco regretted that decision.
As the night carried on, the already cramped place got more and more claustrophobic. They were pressed flush against the stage and each other. At first they were stammering and blushing, but eventually they adjusted and kept dancing with each other. The crowd was surging and becoming rowdier by the second, shoving and kicking in sync with the beat. Marco was having a good time but he was starting to fear for his life when a giant man clad in black leather almost killed him with a drunken fist pump.
"Tom! Maybe we should take a break or head back!" Marco yelled over the screaming speakers.
"WHAT?" Tom yelled back.
"I SAID THAT MAYBE WE SHOULD TAKE A--" Marco was cut off by the elbow of a blue haired guy with large gages smashing into his face. Marco gasped and grabbed the stage for support. He definitely needed a break. He rubbed his nose gently, thankfully finding no blood but he was certain it would bruise. Maybe people will finally think he looks like a tough guy now. He looked around for Tom to once again request that they find shelter but instead saw fire spitting out of the ground. Oh no.
--
Tom was not happy. In fact, he was more than unhappy, he was furious. His eyes had shifted from their usual magenta into three bright, glowing red lights. His hands were leaking fire, flames rising from the ground and encompassing his entire body. He needed his happy bunny. And he needed it now. He looked around for the little ball of pink fluff, barely containing his rage until he remembered that Marshmallow was with Brian. Because of Tom finally making it to one hundred days anger free, Brian had decided that he was ready to start handling his anger on his own. He was going to kill him for that right after he killed everyone within a five mile radius.
“T-Tom, calm down,” Marco said, his voice distant, muffled by the anger burning in Tom’s ears. He whipped his head around to Marco, now muttering curses in his native tongue, employing what Star had dubbed his “scary demon voice.” He hissed at Marco whose Adam's apple bobbed with an audible gulp.
“Deep breaths, okay, Tom? Deep breaths. Just focus on my…” Marco rambled on trying to snuff Tom’s flames before he and all of the people around him turned into burnt toast. But Tom was no longer listening to him. He needed something to calm him down, a distraction to prevent him from having to cross through two of the three digits on his anger free button. His burning eyes zipped around the room, rapidly searching for anything that would improve his mood. His fangs were ripping through his jaw, fighting to snap at everything he could see. He caught a fluttering of something that looked suspiciously cuddly in his periphery and turned back to face Marco. The boy was speaking to him, trying to reason with him and his hair was sticking up a little, looking every bit as soft and fluffy as his dear Marshmallow's fur.
Tom growled and pounced at Marco as he shrieked and lifted his hands in a half-hearted karate stance. Every since he'd literally chopped Tom’s hand off, Marco had been wary to use karate on Tom again especially now that they were friends. But desperate times called for desperate measures and Marco wasn't afraid (okay so maybe Tom still scared him a little but that was besides the point) to use his badass karate moves on Tom to defend himself from his...petting?
Huh? Marco thought as he felt a warm hand scrubbing his hair viciously. His head was thrust into a chest radiating heat and another hand wrapped around his back, enveloping him in warmth. Tom was speaking in a soft whisper now, still in the language of the damned, but it was different somehow, his words lacking their previous malice and fervor. Needless to say, Marco was one very confused mortal. When he tried to express this to Tom, however, by pulling away from him, he was answered with a hiss and a vice grip clamping down on the back of his neck while Tom’s other hand remained tangled in Marco’s dark tresses. With every tousle of his hair, Tom seemed to be visibly calming down so Marco stashed his questions away, hidden but definitely not forgotten. They would be talking about this later.
Tom’s fangs retracted to their normal placement and his fire died down and fizzled with steam sizzling off his body. With a deep sigh, he closed all three of his eyes and opened them to reveal their natural state. He smiled a little and looked down at Marco who was still very much in Tom’s arms and still very much uncomfortable. Tom, apparently, found nothing wrong with this and acted completely oblivious to Marco’s bewilderment, even going so far as to say, “Thanks, Marco. I owe you one.”
--
On their way back to the Diaz household, after reassuring Tom that no, his nose was not broken and yes, he was fine and no, he should not have let Tom kill that blue haired motherfucker, Marco thought about how to ask Tom just what the hell he’d been thinking. They may have been good friends now and Marco was happier with slightly uncomfortable than slightly burnt to a crisp but that didn't mean that Tom could use Marco as his personal teddy bear. Marco was a sixteen year old man, dammit, and he would not be treated on the same level as an adorable little bunny no matter how much it helped Tom reign in his anger. Marco was all for helping Tom deal with his anger issues but in the form of words not involuntary cuddles.
When they got inside, Marco called for Star but when he heard no reply, usually in the form of a crash or a bang, he figured that she was sleeping over at Janna’s. And his parents were in the mountains on a romantic getaway. Great. He was alone with Tom.
“So...do you want some nachos?” Tom jumped and spun to face Marco, abandoning his intense study of the Diaz’s mantelpiece or more specifically their family photos. Huh. Marco hadn’t known that demons could be snuck up on and something about this newly discovered fact brought a wry smile to his face. “Sure. Is this the famous meal that Star is always raving about?”
Marco blushed though he didn’t know why. His nachos were awesome after all. But instead of telling Tom this, he said, “Well, I don’t know about famous, but they do the job. Star and I usually have nachos with a movie on the side, so you can pick one out if you want,” and disappeared into the kitchen.
Left to his own devices, Marco brainstormed how he would get Tom to explain himself as he clearly did not think that anything out of the ordinary had happened. Maybe he was just embarrassed about almost exploding like that. Or he just didn’t want to talk about it. Or he just didn’t want to talk about it with Marco. His chest ached a bit at the thought that Tom didn’t feel comfortable talking to him, but he could respect that. That didn’t mean he couldn’t try though. Marco smiled triumphantly and fished his glasses out of the drawer to his right, slipping them on to complete his transformation. Dr. Marco PH. D. was on the case.
--
“Marco? What are you--?”
“Shh. Don’t worry, Tom, we’ll get to the bottom of this using man’s greatest weapon. Take a seat.”
Marco gestured to the couch cushion next him. Tom slowly sat down though his eyes never left Marco’s face and neither did his confusion.
“Nachos?” Marco asked, shoving a mountain of tortilla chips and steaming queso in Tom’s direction.
“Sure. I picked out a movie if you want me to--”
“Let’s forget the movie for now. Tom, are you familiar with psychology, also known as mind karate?”
“Well, I’m familiar with psychology, but I’m not sure about mind karate. What does that have to do with anything?” Tom asked as he reached for a nacho with uncertain hands, wary of Marco’s sudden mood change.
“If we can identify the source of the problem, then maybe we can stop it all together. Now, tell me, do you have any lingering childhood trauma that might be affecting your behavior? Any skeletons in the closet, figuratively and literally speaking?”
Tom’s brows battled each other as his irritation increased. “Marco, if there’s something you want to say, then just say it! We don’t need ‘mind karate’ or whatever just tell me what’s actually going on!”
Tom was staring at him, eyes blazing. His breaths were coming in short pants now.
“Okay, okay! That thing at the concert that you did was weird! You were petting my hair, Tom, and bros don’t pet their bro’s hair! I know that you were angry and were trying to calm down but what does that have to do with my hair?”
Tom gave him a blank look, both boys refusing to blink or back down for a second and an eternity. Just as Marco was starting to regret his decision to bring it up and preparing to get on his knees and plead for his life before he was barbecued by a temperamental fire demon, Tom opened his mouth. And laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Marco had never seen Tom unravel this much over something besides anger. He was barely hanging onto the Diaz’s couch, doubled over and clutching his stomach as peals of laughter escaped from his throat.
“Oh… oh, haha,” Tom chuckled, wiping a tear from his third eye, “I haven’t laughed this hard since the Mortal Damnation of 1865. I thought you were mad about something serious, but it was about that?”
“It is serious! Well, not really life threateningly serious or anything but still! I’m not your emotional support bunny, Tom,” Marco said, glaring at Tom’s wide smile. He obviously did not grasp the severity of the situation here.
“Alright, I’m sorry I treated you like a cute bunny, but in my defense I think you’d be a lot angrier with me if I burnt down the whole building. It was my first day without Marshmallow after being anger free for 100 days and I needed something cute and fluffy to calm me down.”
Marco was astonished as to how Tom saw absolutely nothing wrong with that sentence. “Cute and fluffy?! I am not cute and fluffy, Tom, and I do not appreciate being called that. I am a red belt, okay, and there is nothing cute and fluffy about red belts!” Marco yelled at Tom, red tinting his cheeks because he was angry and not because his heart was beating a mile a minute.
Tom sighed and said, “Marco, it’s not about whether you’re strong or not. I know that you’re tough and that you can hold your own in a fight. But, I also know that you wear red hoodies everyday because they make you feel safe, that you nurture and protect your friends like a mother hen, that you hum while folding laundry, and that you wear ballet shoes around the house because they are comfortable to you. And that your hair is super soft because you use conditioner and multiple hair tonics to make it like that. Face it, you’re cute, no matter how much of a misunderstood bad boy you may be.”
Marco was the one on fire now and he spluttered at Tom’s smug grin. “I’m not...I’m not the cute one, you’re the one with the pink bunny named Marshmallow! How much cuter can you get?” Marco said and then immediately regretted it. Tom had spent a lot of time and effort trying to contain his anger, and Marco had just made fun of him for it. His heart sank and he pleaded, “Wait, Tom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”
“You’re right.”
“What?”
“Not about Marshmallow, though. Marshmallow’s a badass. But, me? I’m hella cute.”
Marco gaped at Tom who held his straight face for all of five seconds. Laughter filled the room as both boys lost it.
“I think I’m ready for that movie now,” Marco said, smiling at Tom whose expression mirrored his own.
--
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Tom snarled as his body gained heat and began to visibly simmer.
“How could he choose Paulette over Pierre?”
Tom was practically chomping at the bit and Marco was beginning to worry about the safety of his couch.
“Tom? You alright, buddy?”
His concern was met with a vicious growl and the smell of burnt suede.
Tom looked over at him with bright, burning eyes, focusing in on the top of his head.
“Oh no, no. Tom, not again!”
Tom answered in the language of the Underworld, once again slipping into his scary demon voice. His gaze never faltered as Marco pursed his lips and crossed his arms.
The smell was getting stronger.
“Ugh, fine! You win, but only because my mom would kill me if you burned her couch,” Marco relented and sighed.
“But only three pats and then you’re do--waah!” Marco shrieked as Tom pulled him into his arms, wrapping his body around Marco’s back like a ReDead in Ocarina of Time.
“Or this works too I guess.” Marco mumbled resigning himself to his fate and settling into Tom’s chest with yet another sigh. He supposed it was somewhat comfortable, but really they would have to talk about this. Otherwise he might get the wrong idea, Marco thought as his cheeks burned. Though whether he was talking about Tom or himself, he didn't know.