This was requested by my Tinkerbae shipper friend and fellow Firethief, maddiebonanafana, who requires Tinkerbae one-shots/ stories, because there simply aren't enough :D Enjoy.

Shading really was a bitch, Tink decided as she looked down ruefully at her drawing assignment. The vase of flowers had looked so much better when it was just a clean white outline, basking in its two-dimensional glory. But now that she'd attempted to give it texture and depth, it just looked a mess of gray smudges and fingerprints.

Her eyes jealously trailed across the table to Neal's drawing: a near-perfect rendering of a clock. One half showed the outside with the ticks and hands and even a little wood carving around the face; the other half showed the inside with gears and whirrs and whatever else made up the inside of a clock. Of course, his shading was flawless, because—as Tink suspected—the universe had created Neal specifically to remind her how much she truly sucked at drawing. And no amount of deluding herself into thinking she would get better with practice would ever change that. Tink and Talent were on two different planes of existence, and they always would be.

She watched as he leisurely darkened a shadow, humming under his breath. "…worth your weight in gold, 'cause you're behind my eyelids when I'm all alone," he half-sang, half-mumbled. "Hey, stranger, some lyrics I don't know…more lyrics I don't know…more lyrics I don't know—"

"What are you singing?" Tink frowned, tearing her eyes away from the envy-inducing clock.

"'Hurricane'," Neal said distractedly, not looking up from his work. "But you have to be quiet, Tink. I'm kind of in the zone right now."

Her eyebrows jumped. "S'cuse me, didn't realize you were in the zone."

"That's okay…" Neal squinted as he added minute texture marks. "Except now, I have to start over because you invaded the realm of genius."

"Realm of genius that doesn't know half the lyrics," she pointed out dryly.

Neal chose to ignore her; he switched pencils, setting the 2B aside for a 2H, and started singing again as he went back to work. "Are you worth your weight in gold, 'cause you're behind my eyelids when I'm all alone. Hey, stranger—"

"—I want you, to catch me like a cold," Tink sang before he could continue with "some lyrics I don't know". Neal looked up with a frown, but she went on anyway. "You and God both got the guns—when you shoot, I think I'd duck! Come on!" she urged him, waving her hand. "You started it, now finish it!"

Neal narrowed his eyes. "Realm of genius," he reminded her, pointing to his drawing. "I can't just start performing like a trained monkey."

"Nonsense, of course you can," Tink grinned. "Come on."

She pushed her drawing to the side and grabbed two pencils to use as drumsticks as she continued singing. "I led the revolution in my bedroom and set all the zippers free! We said, 'No more war, no more clothes, give me peace…'"

Neal stared back stonily when she stopped, waiting for him to fill in the next words. Tink raised her eyebrows. "Come on, Neal," she said patiently. "I know you know it—it's your favorite part. 'Give me peace…?'"

He flicked his eyes upward, and muttered reluctantly. Tink cupped a hand around her ear, craning her neck forward.

"Can't hear you," she said in a sing-song voice.

"Oh, kiss me—Hey!"

"—hey!" Tink drummed more fiercely as they both sang, "We are a hurricane! Drop our anchors in a sto-orm! Hey!

—hey!"

"Hey!"

They both turned around, suddenly fearful as Mrs. Lucas glared at them through her spectacles. Tink dropped the pencils, staring with wide eyes as she advanced on them, no doubt preparing to examine their drawing progress.

"Have you guys been working or just goofing off this whole time?" she demanded. "Tink, where's your paper?"

"Here," Tink said in a small voice, showing her the pathetic, smudgy vase of flowers. Mrs. Lucas's beady eyes zeroed in on it, taking in every error and fingerprint.

"It's flat," she told her matter-of-factly. "There's no depth. This—" she pointed a red claw—"needs to reach farther back. And you need to round the shadow. Where would the light hit? Where's the light source?"

Tink shrugged her shoulders up and down. Mrs. Lucas raised her eyes to the ceiling, exhaling slowly.

"You're hopeless, dear. Completely hopeless."

Neal coughed into his fist, trying to hide a smile. Mrs. Lucas turned to him with raised eyebrows.

"Think it's funny, Cassidy?" she asked. "Let's see yours."

Neal immediately sat back so she could lean over his drawing. Tink looked on as Mrs. Lucas studied it, hoping she would find something to criticize. Come on, she thought. There has to be something.

"Well," Mrs. Lucas said, furrowing her brow. "It looks like one of you have been working harder than the other one. Don't look so pleased with yourself," she added, catching the triumphant smile Neal shot at a disgruntled Tink. "You were still off task, and since you two wasted class time, you can make up for it after school today."

Tink's heart sank. Lucas's detentions were the absolute worst: no talking, no working—just sitting there, in silent shame, staring at the clock until she released them.

"Yes, Mrs. Lucas," Neal said miserably, hanging his head in defeat; Tink mumbled something to that effect. Satisfied, Lucas nodded her head and strode off to bark at another table.

"Thanks a lot," Neal sighed, picking up his pencil again.

"Me? You were the one who started singing—"

"And you were the one who invaded my realm of genius. Now we've both got detention."

"Well, you shouldn't have been singing such a catchy song," Tink grumbled, resting her chin on her folded hands. "And maybe if you made an effort to remember all the lyrics, I wouldn't have had to join in."

Neal smiled derisively, scoffing a little. "You'd've barged in anyway."

"I s'pose…" Tink watched him make a few more texture strokes along his clock, creating the uneven wood pattern. "You're so good at that. I can't even."

"You're not an artist, Tink," Neal said simply. "Of course you can't even."

"Yeah, but I'm a pretty kickass percussionist."

"That's true."

"And I can remember all the lyrics."

"That's also true."

Tink smiled, propping her chin on her hand. "We're kind of awesome at that music stuff, you know? We should totally form a band."

Neal stopped, slowly trailing his eyes to look at her. "We should totally start a band," he said in a hushed voice. "We could be famous one day."

"I know, right?"

"We'll be famous, and rich, and famously rich and throw chairs at the paparazzi…It's going to be awesome."

"Yeah…Maybe ixnay on the chair-throwing part, but it'll be awesome."

Neal brushed his hands together, and held one out to her. "Let's shake on it," he said decisively. "You and me, form a band and get famous and rich. Ten years from now, we're going to be household names."

Tink immediately grabbed his hand, and shook it firmly. "Household names," she agreed. "Tink…and Neal."

"Neal…and Tink."

"Right. Or Tink…and Neal."

"We can argue about the name later."

"We can argue about it right now."

"Not unless you want detention again."

Tink stole a glance at Lucas, who was frowning suspiciously in their direction. "You're right," she whispered. "Okay, we'll argue about this later."

"We most certainly will," Neal said solemnly. "I'll be damned if we're going to go by 'Tink and Neal', when it should obviously be 'Neal and Tink'."

"Maybe it should be something that combines both our names," Tink said thoughtfully. "Like…Teal."

"Or Nink."

"Or Teal."

"Or also, there's Nink."

"Yes, but have you considered Teal…?"

More one-shots to come! Feel free to give me prompts/ ideas/ stuff you want to see!