A/N: So I watched Wreck-It Ralph for the first time a couple of weeks ago and was instantly smitten with a certain duo. Ralph Breaks the Internet had a disappointing amount of content...but I guess that's what imagination is for, right?
I don't know if this is any good but I needed to get it out of my system.
Disclaimer: I don't own Wreck-It Ralph.
The Glass Lies
If there's one thing Tamora has learned to count on over the past six years, it's Felix's boundless optimism. No matter the situation, he's never wrong-footed for long, soon returning with the confident attitude that there isn't anything out there that he can't fix.
He's got reason to be confident. After all, he had managed to fix her, and that was something she'd never thought possible.
But Felix has been quiet this evening. Tamora wasn't too worried initially—everyone is entitled to a bit of reflection—but his lack of enthusiasm for anything they've done this evening has left her mildly concerned now.
It's late, and they've retired for the night, luxuriating in the silence of their own space. Normally Felix is out like a light, needing much more rest than she does, so used to constantly being on edge in the hell scape of Hero's Duty. But she can tell by his posture tonight that he is not in the relaxed company of repose. Sighing, she rolls onto her side to face him, propping herself up on an elbow.
"All right, spit it out," she says, never one to sugar-coat her words.
Silence for a moment, then Felix heaves a dramatic sigh. Tamora just barely resists the urge to smile in amusement. She takes no satisfaction in her husband's pain, but he sounds as if he's got the whole world on his shoulders…and Felix's troubles don't usually extend past a squabble between the Nicelanders. And even then it's barely a bump—the Nicelanders are too nice to argue.
"I'm just thinking," he says.
"You know what people say about that," she teases. "It's a dangerous thing. Especially if you're Wreck-It." The wrecker has got them all into more scrapes than she can count because he used his brain.
For once, Felix doesn't smile. In fact, he looks downright miserable from what she can see of his face in the silver strip of moonlight. Realising she has to have a more delicate approach—and wincing because she's usually as delicate as a giant in a fragile little doll's house—she softens her voice, using the tone normally reserved for him and him alone in their most reflective moments.
That's changed a little in the last few months, with the fifteen little racers who have unceremoniously bulldozed their way into her heart.
"So, come on," she says coaxingly, reaching across to press her palm to his stomach. "What's on your mind?"
Felix sighs again, but capitulates this time, fumbling for her had in the dark. "It's just…something Taffyta said to me earlier."
Tamora's eyebrow quirks at that; consider her curiosity piqued.
"Which was?" she says carefully, prodding round like she might around an open wound.
Felix exhales, his cheeks puffing. "She said I was cute."
"Oh." Tamora takes a moment to search for something else to add. "Well, you are." Gallingly so at times; at others in ways that make her want to haul him onto her shoulder and march right into the bedroom.
"And that's fine when it comes to you. But I don't want to be cute to a child. I want to be…I dunno. Hip. Cool."
"Ah." Tamora clears her throat. "I hate to break it to ya, Fix-It, but kids don't tend to think adults are cool."
"Taffyta thinks you're cool," Felix says, a touch reproachfully as he turns his head to look at her.
She smirks, unable to resist teasing him. "Of course she does. The guns will do that."
Felix pouts. "It's not just that. It's everything. The guns, the armour, the way you kick cybug butt every day, how you keep your men in line…and she thinks you look cool. She tried copying your hair the other day."
"Was that what that was?" Tamora frowns as she thinks back. The little racer's platinum hair had been a frightful tangle; she'd assumed that Taffyta had been causing chaos in Sonic's game.
"I know why she thinks you're cool," Felix says. "You're the coolest gal in the whole arcade!" He rolls over to face her now, a dreamy expression on his face. Any moment now the eight-bit hearts will pop around them—apparently he has no control over that, which amuses her greatly, especially in the slick heat of intimacy. "I just wish our kids thought I was cool."
Her heart still flutters on those words. Our kids. Of course, they hadn't birthed them or raised them, but they're helping them now and it's an oddly satisfying experience. A few years ago she would never have thought herself the maternal type, but that's what Felix does: he brings the best out in people.
"Look, maybe you're not the coolest guy around, pint-size," she concedes. It was always going to be difficult, considering he's barely taller than the little racers.
"Jeez, thanks for making me feel better," he pouts.
"Hey, you didn't let me finish," she protests. She shifts closer to him, draping her arm over his side. "Maybe the kids will never see you as cool. But you know what? They'll see you as so much more as time goes on. Who's the one with the magic hammer who can fix all of their grazed knees with a single tap? Who's the one who can make a grey day brighter with a fruit pie? And who's the one who can make them laugh when they're crying?"
"Me," Felix concedes.
"Affirmative, soldier." She reaches out to run her fingers through his hair. "So buck up, okay? Cute is no less than cool. And whatever else happens, I think you're pretty darn-tootin' cool. You're the only guy I know who could bounce into an unfamiliar game, almost get shot, and end up being more enthralled with the high definition."
That finally raises a giggle from her husband. She treasures being able to make him laugh and smile. As someone who was created to destroy, whose main goal each and every day was just surviving, knowing that she has those capabilities too has done wonders for her own perception.
"You still are the most stunningly high definition gal I've ever seen in my life," Felix confides. "Every day you give me the honey glows something rotten."
Flattery don't charge these batteries, civilian, she'd told him once, amused but unimpressed by this strange little man who had literally bounced into her life. But that statement is no longer true when it comes to him, and she pulls him in for a long, heady kiss. When they part Felix's cheeks are decidedly red, and she lets her hand slip from his side down to the front of his pyjamas, enjoying his sharp intake of breath as she brushes her fingers over him.
"What do you say, soldier?" her voice is a throaty murmur as she runs her nose down his. "Reckon you can be the hero now?"
"I certainly do, ma'am," he says, breathless and quivering as his own hands move to slip under her shirt, greedy on her tight muscles. "I certainly do."
And with that, Tamora hooks his mouth into another fierce kiss, rolls over so she is above him, and they forget all about the perceptions of others in favour of something much more enjoyable.