Heeeey you thought it was awkward before? The mic drop of awkward is about to happen. Be forewarned. Also, partly plot and filler dump. Enjoy!

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"letter"

Lag was used to distance. From the time he was 7, he'd been carrying on a long distance relationship with his mother, a woman whose face had begun to fade in his memory over the years. What was a few hundred miles? Letters could cross it easily.

Amberground was a massive place. In the past, it'd take weeks just to cross one ring of it. Specialized mail men were the only real hope of communication for most of the public. But time and advancements had bridged the literal gaps in the world, bringing vehicles to those who could afford them and speeding up commerce and communication by leaps and bounds.

Still, it was hard to keep connected over long distances. Even in the 1920s, most people didn't own a vehicle hardy enough to traverse the split continent. The postal service did, of course, but with the rate of crime between towns even they weren't always consistent.

During those long gaps between letters from Gauche, Lag often laid awake at night. Was he safe? Was he attacked? Did he already respond or had it been lost with another worker?

Gauche's route wasn't anywhere near Lag's little coastal town. There was no way of really knowing. It made his stomach turn.

Still, the man did his best even before that awkward first kiss to show up at his doorstep at least once a month. Friends made time, he had said. Now was no different, although Lag felt his anxiety swell up every day past the scheduled dates.

But when Gauche did show up on time, tired and a bit dusty, it was as if the fear and anxiety of those many days had just melted away. His aunt, who he'd often talked the ear off of as a child, would sigh while she listened to him blubber and carry on.

Gauche would laugh and pet the boy gently, letting him vent his worries before he gently moved him aside to kick off his boots and tug off his heavy coat. They'd sit in the living room and talk for hours, although it was mostly Lag doing the talking.

By the time lunch rolled around, Sabrina was surprised that Gauche's ears weren't bleeding. When the day began to draw to a close, Lag would tug him to the spare room, insisting that he stay rather than chance a dangerous trip home or spend money at an inn.

Glancing at a photo of Anne, Sabrina would thank the woman for raising such a considerate and sweet child.

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Gauche had a stack of letters in his desk drawer at home, and some in his dash board for the times when things were hard. Rereading the clumsy words raised his spirits after a hard week of long distance deliveries.

Lag's writing was often cramped, with the attempts to fit as much as he could in a page or two. It was endearing, if not a bit hard to read. Although at this point, just seeing the worn and aged envelopes often was enough to inspire a sense of comfort in the man.

Most of them were from years ago, when Lag was 7 or 10. On the backs of the sheets of paper, when there wasn't more writing, there often be drawings. Gauche would be honest, Lag wasn't a particularly good artist. But still, the thought was what counted.

In the past, Aria had been curious about who mailed her friend so often and Gauche had wondered if it was strange to get mail from a kid. Now, he was just thankful that no one read them.

Most of the letters were the same as they'd always been, stuffed to the edges with writing about how Lag's day had been. Zazie had raised at least ten cats, Connor could fit two whole pizza slices in his mouth at once and Niche had found her way into his room again despite frequent lectures from his aunt. The words warmed his heart. The only difference were the tell tale signs of erased little hearts at the bottom of the page.

Sometimes though, things strayed from the routine. Not often, but when thered been a particularly long gap in the visits or a hard week, Gauche would find an extra page full of "I miss you"s and awkward confessions that left the man thankful that his door had a lock on it.

Which brought up another issue that he'd never really had before. Longing was new. A different kind of longing, different than when he'd miss Sylvette or Aria after a long trip away from home. It kept him awake long after he'd laid down to sleep.

Even though it'd been a few months since that awkward first kiss, Gauche still found himself terrified of how his heart and body reacted to that memory.

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Sylvette was a wonderful buffer, Lag found himself thinking. When she came with Gauche, she took much of the scrutiny off of the two by distracting his aunt. The two would trade recipes and talk, giving them enough time to slip away.

Not that they did anything particularly risque, Lag mused, but even just cuddling was something they had to hide. It was nice to be out of the spot light. Surreptitiously the two snuck out of the house and headed for the cliffs.

Lag sighed, relief spreading through his bones as he sat on the warm stone. "I'm so glad that Sylvette is such good friends with auntie..."

Laughing a bit, the man sat next to him. "They do get along very well, don't they?"

And just like that, a weight slipped off of their shoulders. It was easy to talk again, easier still to relax into the man's side. Gauche felt a smile tug at his lips, pulling the boy closer. Warm and small, he mused, like a cat. Though he thought the boy would fume if he said that aloud. Nuzzling into his side, the boy let his eyes close in contentment.

"I missed you..." he mumbled.

Gauche rubbed his back gently, pressing a kiss to his head. "I missed you to."

Cheeks warming, the boy peeked up through his bangs. "I-I thought you might get mad...cuz of what I wrote last time."

Laughing nervously, the man tilted his head. "I'm not mad. I'm...surprised."

"A bad kind...?"

Sensing the oncoming of tears, Gauche lowered his head to kiss Lag's nose. "No, not a bad kind."

Blinking, Lag resisted the urge to rub at his nose. "If you're sure..."

"I am." the man said, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

It was hard not to laugh as the boy's face turned beet red. He could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. How could such a shy kid write the things he did? Maybe it was just easier to write it than to say or do it.

"To be honest?" Gauche began, feeling self conscious suddenly. "It was really...nice."

Glancing up at him, Lag blinked owlishly. "Nice?"

"Nice." the man replied, nodding. "I thought...that I was the only one who thought about that."

If it were at all possible, Lag looked ready to burst. If he gets any redder, he'll pop, Gauche mused. "Lag, breathe..."

The boy wheezed a bit, sucking in a breath sharply. He looked like he wanted to say something, but found that thinking was difficult just then. Motor functions flew out the window when his friend-now-more was so close and admitted to base urges.

Running his fingers through the boy's hair gently, Gauche fought the urge to tease him. Lag was just too cute when he got like this. "We don't need to talk about it, if you want."

Swallowing hard, the boy leaned closer and mumbled, "I-Its fine..."

Turning the topic elsewhere, Gauche said, "Sylvette was pretty excited for the summer. She wanted to have a picnic with everyone."

Lag glanced up, blinking. "A picnic?"

"Mhm." the man hummed, petting Lag's downy hair gently. "She wanted to come back with me next week. Is that okay?"

Lag broke out into a bright smile, nodding fast. "Of course! That sounds really great!"

"I'll tell her you said so." Gauche replied, smiling.

Settling back into a comfortable silence, the boy waved his legs a bit. As hard as it was to wait for his friend-now-more, it definitely was worth it.

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