Chapter One:
Cuphead paced back and forth in his dark kitchen. The old cuckoo clock ticked impatiently as its hands positioned itself to half past two AM. The floor creaked quietly beneath him in a way that he hoped wouldn't wake anyone up, and even so, he couldn't find it in himself to stop walking tracks into the floor.
He couldn't sleep. At first, he had only left his bedroom to get a glass of water, but by the time he had gotten it, his mind was having even more trouble settling down than before. The thing that was keeping him up this night, just as well as it had on countless others, was the same, cliche thing that you might read about in a cheesy romance novel, or a particularly trashy movie.
Cuphead couldn't help but let out a sigh as he turned to start another lap through the kitchen. He wanted to curse himself for the thoughts, memories, and fantasies that had taken hold of his mind. Tonight, not a single thing about him was going to allow him to rest. Tonight, neglected thoughts had set out to haunt him.
He wanted to feel his body pressed against his as he struggled to catch his breath against his lips. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to feel him. He wanted to be able hear him react to the way he was touching him. He wanted to explore every inch of his body. He wanted to learn where exactly all of his sensitive places were, so that maybe, just maybe, he could drive him just as crazy as he felt right now.
There were several reasons that he could think of that he could use try and talk himself out of ever doing that. This man, ever so conveniently, happened to be The Devil's right hand man; King Dice. So far, Cuphead was three fourths the way done collecting the souls for the contract, and by attempting something with Dice, he could quite possible tip over a domino that he very much needed up.
Another big issue: what if Dice didn't feel the same way? This one, though, was a debate for Cuphead. From observation, he almost knew that Dice had to feel something. From shared eye contact that lasted a little too long, to that one time when they, quite literally, bumped into each other. They had an extreme eternal chemical reaction upon eye contact, and Cuphead saw that he felt it too, because if the look on his face said anything, it said 'Holy shit. What the fuck was that?'... But could it have been in his head? Could he have just wanted it so badly, that he imagined that Dice had seemed to feel it too?
His mind ran on, and on, and on, trapped in its own limbo between "Do" and "Don't", pulling him from side to side until his patience finally snapped. He was going to try this. Whether or not it would have consequences, whether or not the feeling was going to stick afterwards, he was going to do it.
Still in his pajamas, Cuphead slid on his shoes, and threw on his jacket. He quietly snuck into his and Mugman's room, and snagged his hidden bottle of lube he kept under his bed. He shoved it deep into his pocket, and let himself outside, making sure he locked the door behind himself. He was immediately hit by a breeze that sent chills down his spine. This caused him to yearn to be with Dice even more. He wanted to be with warmth, but he had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to sleep unless it was Dice's warmth... His heart ached at the thought of going another night lying awake thinking about him, and it was enough to make him push away any other intruding doubts.
He started to walk to Dice's house, and it was as if time had been turned three times slower. He was overflowing with anticipation, and his skin was prickled with goosebumps. Every familiar building, structure, or particularly memorable plant was a step closer to where he wanted to be, yet it was also a torturous reminder of exactly how far he still was.
He could see his breath fogging, and his nose was stinging from the air's chill. Eventually, he turned a street corner, and he saw Dice's house. His heart almost broke a couple of ribs at the sight, and for a moment, he considered turning back. Of course, he didn't.