A/N: Happy 2nd Anniversary WIR fandom! Here's my special (I hope!) contribution - I imagine it's what Ralph is thinking about tonight. Enjoy!
It was a clear night, as always. The colorful little pixel stars twinkled in the black void of his game's sky. Now that he really thought about it, he found it pleasant to look up at that sky without bricks digging into his back. A few pillows and blankets gathered from his living room did wonders to make his roof a cozy place to lie outside and lose himself in thought. Old habits die hard, Ralph supposed.
Of course, these thoughts came from a different place than before - no longer did they spawn from loneliness but from contented introspection. These past two years had gone by so quickly that he'd hardly had the time to sit back and think about just how much had changed.
Just that evening he'd eaten cake – and not only that, he'd eaten the cake with people who'd either been completely remote from or unknown to him just two years earlier. The four of them and their game crews had a party without anyone left out or anything broken, nobody stared at him or surreptitiously hid the finery when he turned his back, and a ridiculous good time was had by all. Ralph would've thought it impossible not long ago.
The first night after they'd come home from that adventure, Felix had a talk with the Nicelanders and that was more or less the end of their exclusionary behavior. Well, not that everything was different overnight, but to their credit those tiny party-lovers made an effort on his behalf. Inviting him to a redo of the 30th Anniversary party, learning and remembering his birthday and all that entailed, taking the time to make some pleasant conversation with him once in a while. He had to give them some credit.
But not surprisingly it was Big Gene who took the longest to really come around, desperately wanting to believe the heroic act was a fluke. He was cordial enough, mostly out of wanting to stay in good standing with Felix, Ralph supposed. But he didn't trust; there was always a side-eye or a huff, followed by a hasty retreat if he realized Ralph had noticed him. He'd been a thorn in Ralph's side from the beginning; it was unbelievable how such a seemingly insignificant individual could ruin a rare, perfectly good day with just a stray disapproving glance or snide comment. It wasn't until Gene saw the wrecker surrounded by new friends and admired by other Good Guys like Q*bert that he began to question his three-decade-long prejudice. Ralph still wouldn't call the diminutive mayor a close friend, but they'd eventually be on their way if their good rapport kept up long enough.
Thinking about that…Q*bert had seemed quite thankful for all of this outpouring of support. Not that Ralph could understand a word of what his neighbor said, but it was plain to see that the little guy and his friends were content. They strolled around side-by-side with the Nicelanders, who were more than happy to share recipes or try and pick up some Q*bertese. Word had spread around the arcade and East Niceland became a popular hangout for 8-bits, with or without games of residence.
Despite his coworker's friendship with other classic characters, Ralph never knew that Felix had worried about him or had even given his situation any thought, but that floored look of guilt and remorse on the handyman's face when he confronted him and explained the whole situation in the Fungeon was his first glimpse into his now-friend's wonderings. Even with their limited interactions, he'd observed Felix enough in 30 years to figure out that his inaction owed to obliviousness and a confrontation-averse nature rather than malice. The little guy was pretty much as nice as they came, even showing up at the brickpile that first night, hat in hands, apologizing profusely and refusing to leave before he was finished soundly beating himself up about everything that had happened.
He'd initially wanted to help, he'd said. But, ashamed as he was now to admit it, there was always that smoldering ember of fear in the back of his mind that the Nicelanders were right. That he'd have been a fool to intervene and lose their support over a Bad Guy. He regretted listening to them now. He had 30 years to help and had done nothing, yet to the handyman's amazement Ralph didn't seem as upset as he deserved to be.
The fixer insisted on being informed of anything at all he could do to make up for Ralph's previous treatment, to which Ralph had only awkwardly scratched his head and said he'd get back to him if he thought of anything. And that's where the house eventually came from.
Truth be told, he'd held no particular dislike of his colleague, only envy at the perks of the job. Pies, respect, a decent place to live, and some folks who at least resembled friends. But now that he thought about it – and now that they were on more equal terms – wrecking was a pretty low-pressure duty for which to be responsible. Nobody came crying to him at the end of the day to fix this or that, to fill his schedule for him, or to pull him away from well-earned rest or otherwise personal time.
Then there was the Sarge. Her intense nature startled him at first; his initial personal impression of her had come from a helmet to the face as well as close-range barking and stomping as she shouted him down without a trace of hesitation. When he later realized – as he lay sprawled out on his new spot on the ground, realigning his jaw – that this armored lady yelling and aggressively gesturing at him about the cy-bug was in fact the "dynamite gal" whom Felix had been fawning over back in the cell, he prayed for a clipping error to allow him to phase through the game's floor. She was a thunderstorm of a woman – loud, powerful, gorgeous if you could view her from outside her strike range, inspiring deference in those who came close enough, occasionally even terrifying – and not to mention none too trusting of new faces, particularly those who accidentally released cy-bugs into other games.
But in time they'd found their common ground. He'd learned of her backstory from Felix after finally asking him why she would look so frazzled and snap so quickly when she came over to visit some days. It was at Tapper's that they first started talking, and – after very many visits to the establishment – eventually sharing their troubles, both programmed and lived. He'd never helplessly watched the brutal death of a loved one and she'd never been tormented and excluded by her coworkers, but one-upping each other's misfortunes was not their goal. It wasn't a single, groundbreaking, or formal understanding, just a parting thump on the shoulder and a "Know what? You're all right, Wreck-It." The fact that she was later to be his sister-in-law didn't hurt, either. Ralph had found her intensity and rough manner was off-putting to him at first, but Felix couldn't get enough.
He was still amused at how those two ended up together. Sure he'd heard Felix go on and on, gushing about her to anyone who'd listen. He'd seen Calhoun pull down Felix's hat and go in for a kiss dozens of times. Before the couple had their own residence together, he'd hear their nightly escapades in the apartment all the way from his house in the dump if both parties had their windows open. But he had half-expected everyone involved to turn around and reveal that it was something they had done for the arcade's entertainment. Walking through Game Central hand-in-hand, their drastic height and design differences making them look more like master and pet than lovers, engaging in gratuitous displays of affection for all to see…he supposed it was because it was the first time he'd ever seen Felix as comically delighted as he was with her, even by the handyman's standards. To his own surprise, by the time they eventually did marry, he found himself unsuccessfully holding back happy tears. They did make a cute couple, he finally decided. Unusual, and even embarrassing for him to watch sometimes, but cute enough nonetheless.
As far as cute things went, Ralph turned his attention towards the sleeping bundle of adorable curled up on his chest. With a bunched-up blanket wrapped around her little body and her mess of dark hair fanned out in every direction, Ralph wondered how she was able to make herself comfortable enough to fall asleep on him. She stirred and shivered a bit, mumbling unintelligibly, and in response he draped a massive hand over her like an extra blanket. She leaned into the warmth of his hand and sighed in her sleep. Of all the happy times he'd ever been fortunate enough to experience, these were the most precious.
His friendship with Vanellope was what Ralph considered to be his greatest gift. From the moment they met she had never feared him as others did, instead preferring to pester the living daylights out of him and lead him on an adventure that ended up changing everyone's lives for the better.
She first struck him as a mischievous, petulant child hanging around just to make his life more difficult. He'd bemoaned his luck for the medal landing right in that exact tree, right when she was playing in it. He, a giant, laid low by a tiny candy kid. But as it was to become painfully apparent to both of them, they had far more in common than different. He dared to think each was just what the other needed.
The chocolate puddle, the confrontation at the junkyard, the caricatured manner in which her game-mates carried out their torment…her life and struggles mirrored his own all too well. It wasn't until they made a kart together – their first act of friendship – that he allowed himself to see her as that, a friend.
Just enough of a friend that it killed him to break her heart for what he thought was her own good.
But with a lucky glance at that console and a little help from a new brother-in-arms, the reparation of the kart was the same for their bond of trust. Fortunately for him, she in turn saved him from his final act of redemption, sealing the deal. He was her Baron Brickhead, her Admiral Underpants, her Stinkbrain. She was his Countess Candyhair, his Princess Cavity, his President Fartfeathers…but usually just his Kid. Sometimes she was like a little sister, other times almost like a daughter, but always a buddy and a confidante.
From there…too much had happened since then to think about it all at once. The four of them – wrecker, president, handyman, and sergeant – had become the oddest and most devoted family at Litwak's. Each one of them had enriched the other three's lives in one way or another, and this simple fact inextricably bound them together. There were adventures galore, they amused each other with stories of the day's gamers, many nights were spent at Tapper's or roaming the arcade for the evening's game-jump of choice.
Some games were more Ralph-proof than others; Dig Dug for one was prone to sinkholes, and the houses in Paperboy had awfully low ceilings. But he could laugh about it now when it happened, and with Felix around it wasn't such a big deal. Another day Calhoun decided the kid needed to learn how to defend herself, so the two of them had a Sunday of female bonding time over martial arts and military-grade firearms. He walked into Hero's Duty to pick up his little partner-in-crime, and stumbled into a crowd of Marines huddled around a station at the shooting range where the pint-size president was picking off paper targets with a small handgun.
The memories cascaded from his mind into his heart like a forceful but soothing waterfall, and it comforted him to know that there would always be more to come. The corners of his mouth twitched into a peaceful smile as he put one hand behind his head and adjusted the other to keep his best friend warm.
"Nnnthenkyu…" Vanellope murmured and loosened her grip on his shirt in response. Sandwiched between the cozy hand and fuzzy orange flannel, her arrival into the embrace of sleep hastened.
"No problem, kid. Sleep tight."
"G'night Ralphie…"
"'Night, Vanellope."
As he drifted off to sleep himself, Ralph decided that there couldn't possibly be a better way to conclude such a special day.