Pop it
Anamanaguchi: Pop it
Iggy drifts between the line of being blissfully asleep and semi-conscious of his surroundings. The hallway he's hunkered down in is a path the king wanders through whenever he wishes to avoid the more bustling areas of the castle. In other words, it's quiet, barely traveled, and the perfect place to set up a stake out with his partner in crime.
It also means it's a highly boring hallway without any hidey-holes to creep into to eavesdrop on the servants and guards dealing out the latest round of gossip and trading it in for juicer rumors. Like, for example, the head chef was seen baking chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen last week while humming a love song.(The maid gasped like she was appalled when she said it to her dumbfounded coworker.)
The head chef was definitely baking delicious food, but not for the children—Iggy has yet to see these rumored cookies on his plate, but he has smelled traces of their lingering sweetness. So, the big question: where did these cookies go? Did the Boos eat them?
Nope. Supposedly, one of the more timid maids was seen with a perfectly wrapped goodie bag containing, coincidentally enough, chocolate chip cookies. Something so mundane had caused quite the rampant rumor mill and Iggy, as devious as always, felt inclined to—well, stir that boiling pot of gossip soup.
He decides to throw more spice into the scene by casually stating he just so happened to see the chef and maid in the kitchen together while passing by a group of guards—who couldn't hide the fact they were definitely listening in on his seemingly innocuous conversation with Lemmy. Luckily, Lemmy caught on quickly. He sprinkled in his own juicy ingredient, stating he thought he saw them taking a walk in the courtyard together.
It was nothing too wall-shattering or earth rumbling to cause issues within the castle walls, but they added just enough to cause more mayhem. Iggy can happily sit back and enjoy the chaos with a smug grin on his face knowing even supposed adults can take the wiggling bait like mindless fish.
"Hop," a high-pitched voice crackles over the newly acquired walkie talkie Iggy borrowed (stole) from a couple of Paratroopa scouts napping soundly at their post. Iggy jolts like he's been zapped by an outlet, blinking away the fuzziness in his vision.
He stifles a yawn, stretching his arms languidly as the voice continues, "I have eyes on the target. He's heading your way."
He stiffens at the abrupt news, the walkie talkie on his lap falling to the floor with an echoing clatter as he shakes the hazy cloud of sleepiness clogging up his brain. Swiftly snatching up the unintentionally discarded device from the ground, he climbs as quietly and carefully as he can to his feet. He avoids jostling around his precious cargo in the satchel thrown over his shoulder too much.
More alert, he thoroughly processes the information dumped on him now that he's no longer counting those fluffy sheep bleating mathematics in his daydreams. His heart begins to pound like it's ready to make a retreat, his whole body begins throwing itself into a completely unnecessary panic. He's drenched in a chilling sweat. Slowly, his heartbeat lulls as he applies pragmatic logic to his current situation.
Realistically, Lemmy is quite a lengthy distance from his current location so the probability of their target speed walking to this hallway in under two minutes is very unlikely given the target's huge mass, but Iggy's sweaty palms only amplify—which he chalks up to excited nerves.
With a shaky exhale, Iggy sneakily peeks around the corner just to ensure he's alone. Eyes darting around the empty corridor, he, thankfully, spots no one just yet. Good. His almost nap hasn't ruined their scheme.
Estimating the time it'll take their hulking target to reach his location; Iggy deduces he has approximately seven long minutes of free time to kill. With a bored sigh of resignation, he adjusts the weight of his satchel wrapped protectively around his lithe body. The semi-heavy object inside sloshes loudly from his agitations before settling down. He pats it once for good measure, like it requires his reassurance.
Another long yawn follows then Iggy brings the device to his lips. "What's he doing, Hip?"
He's not sure why he's whispering, but he likes to imagine it gives his voice a smoky, mischievous edge like the detectives in the noir films he and Kamek enjoy watching whenever he can't get to sleep. Honestly, it's one of his favorite little night time rituals to combat his night terrors and awful sleep schedule.
Whenever he wakes up in an icy puddle of sweat, panting and feeling asphyxiated by the panic, Kamek is somehow always in the middle of a deliciously distracting movie like he has some form of ESP connected directly to Iggy's brain.
Iggy's grateful Kamek doesn't ever say anything when he appears in the common room. The mage doesn't prod with personal questions, he doesn't scold him for being up this late as Iggy hobbles through the dark with a blanket in his hands and the remnants of tears on his face. Kamek simply pats the spot on the couch beside him before Iggy crawls onto it, tucking into the arm of the couch, and cocooning himself in the blankets.
His mind absorbs the newest cold case in front of him, basking in the twinges of jazz music pouring out of the speakers, and the aesthetics of old school black and white films. He loyally tunes in, granting the movie all his attention, hoping to crack it before the detective on screen does. It never fails to push those dark thoughts away.
Impatiently, Iggy waits for a response only to hear Lemmy's stalled breathing on the other side of the device. The soft panting continues as Lemmy probably waits for someone to pass by him, before he reflects back and matches Iggy's sly tone with his own over exaggerated flair.
"The target is brooding, like usual." Lemmy sounds hilarious when he's trying to lower his voice. "I'll keep following the target, hold your position."
Iggy snorts out a laugh. The hand holding the walkie talkie drops to his side as he leans against the wall and waits. Ugh. Waiting. The most tedious part of any stealth mission. How does anyone do it without going crazy?
Not even a minute in and he alternates between tapping his twitching foot, drumming his claws against his crossed arms, or adjusting his glasses. He decides, after the two minute mark, this is a tortuous affair. If only he brought something to remedy the boredom. He should have—
"What are you doing?"
Iggy drops the walkie talkie with a mousy squeak, hands flying up in some form of karate stance (another genre of movie he and Kamek watch together), ready to defend himself and chop some throats. It takes him an embarrassingly long second for him to realize he recognizes that voice. How can he not? It haunts all his fun dreams with its scolding and dry inflection.
Suddenly annoyed, Iggy turns on his heels to direct his frown at the buzzkill. He finds Ludwig and, surprisingly enough, Roy staring questioningly at him, stances practically identical; hands on their hips, brows raised skyward, heads cocked to the right side, and thousands of questions clearly on their minds.
Never have they looked more alike in this moment till now—which is honestly downright frightening to think about. Two authoritative (and extremely nosy) nags in this castle is enough. Although Iggy doubts Roy will suddenly become boring; he isn't known to follow the rules much either. They share the same ability to loosely interpret them and bend them for their own personal needs.
Iggy straightens his defensive stance and wipes the shock off his face, trading it in for his usual nonchalant half-grin. Ludwig narrows his eyes slightly, not buying into it while Roy bites on the bottom of his lip to keep himself from grinning at something only he finds funny about this scenario.
"I guess the better question is: what are you up to?" Ludwig reiterates flatly, expression emotionless.
Iggy scoffs, poking Ludwig's chest with the tip of his claw, causing his practiced stoic composure to snap as he snarls, rubbing the area.
"Nothing that concerns you, Ludwig." Iggy bends over to swipe up the gadget from the ground and dusts it off for good measure, assessing the damage. Satisfied the radio is unharmed, he directs his attention back to them, eyes half-hooded suspiciously.
"What are you guys doing?" He lobs the conversation in their direction, hoping to quickly change the subject before one of them catches on.
Iggy knows it doesn't land when Roy and Ludwig share a knowing glance. Roy is the first to step towards him, eyes mockingly squinted, brows creased.
"Nothing, huh?" Roy grins deviously, crossing his arms as he leans in closer to inspect his brother's face. His eyes hone in on Iggy's satchel and Iggy unconsciously shifts it closer to his body. Roy's grin turns more self-satisfied by the nervous tick. "Whenever you're involved, it ain't ever nothin'."
Ah. Perfect. The opportunity to divert attention arises at the best possible time. A distraction already forming in his big brain, Iggy sniffs away an invisible tear.
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Roy." He places a hand over his heart. "It's times like these where I truly feel the love from you."
Roy barks out a laugh, very amused by Iggy's sarcasm for once instead taking it entirely too personal and resorting to annoyingly shoving him away or muttering grouchy complaints. The walkie talkie interrupts their little moment as radio noise pours into the hallway.
Curious, Ludwig cranes his head to the side, a brow raised inquisitively while Roy's expression turns smug, like he knew this would happen and he's watching it all unfold a safe distance from the inevitable blast.
"Are you still there, Hoppity?" Lemmy's meek, but warbled voice asks, pushing through the static.
Iggy glances at his confused, but awaiting siblings then sighs heavily, dejected. Darn. They're not going to let this go—especially not Ludwig. If he sniffs any mischief; he feels obligated to stop it before all the fun.
Irritated, Iggy puffs out a cloud of smoke. "Our position has been compromised, Hippity." Iggy throws a glare at his big brothers, tapping a foot impatiently. "Kooky and Bully are here to crash the party.
Simultaneously, both of them appear offended by their given code names. Roy's brows draw together, forming an impressive wrinkle count on his forehead while Ludwig crosses his arms over his plastron, eyes narrowed and burning. Before either of them voice a complaint, the radio crackles once more.
Lemmy blows an impressively long raspberry. "Boo! That's no fun." There's a brief pause, chased immediately away by a giggle. "Is Scowlwig scowling disappointedly at you?"
Iggy can hear the smile in Lemmy's tone. He glances expectedly at Ludwig, noticing his round cheeks are beginning to puff up and his face is turning a deeper shade of red.
He matches Lemmy's giggles with a demented set of his own. "Of course he is. He's like a mini Kamek."
Roy forgets the early insult towards him and snickers vocally into a hand at Ludwig's expense. Ludwig bristles, shoulders taut and back straight. He opens his mouth and, thankfully, his meticulously planned rant is interrupted by Lemmy.
"I'm going to keep following Bowser around anyways; I'll let you know if he's coming your way. He's made a little detour to the kitchen for a snack."
The radio goes silent and not even a second passes before Ludwig grabs at the opportunity to finally begin his nagging spree.
"I cannot believe you," Ludwig scolds, eyes full of disappointment. "You were eavesdropping on Bowser! Why would you do that?"
Iggy groans internally, seeing no way out of this. Maybe if he explains the situation, lays on the mock concern, and leaves out one burning detail; he can work his way around the topic like a spy tiptoeing away with the stash.
Iggy drops his gaze, fiddling with the volume of his walkie talkie. "He's been a big stick in the mud these past few days so we're trying to figure out why."
Well, that's half of the truth, but Ludwig doesn't need to know that there's more to it.
Ludwig scoffs, letting a derisive snout. "And you thought following him around, risking getting caught and further souring his mood was the best option?"
When he puts it like that; it does sound kinda stupid, but Ludwig cannot find out the second part of their plan—Iggy would never hear the end of it. Searching for time, he adjusts his satchel, feeling the weight of his 'surprise' start to take its toll on his shoulders.
An idea is already forming in his brain from those desperately needed thirty seconds of stalling. Ludwig is so predictable; it physically hurts Iggy to think about how they're related. With vocal ammunition loaded, it's time to attack the one thing Ludwig holds precious to him; that ego of his.
Meeting Ludwig's gaze, Iggy springs his plan into action. "Y'know, you really do have a way with words and killing the mood," Iggy retorts bitterly, hands on his hips. "It may not be the most intelligent option, but it is the most fun. Not everyone prefers droll and drab, Scowling."
Iggy got him good with that remark. Ludwig's right eye twitches, he clenches his jaw. "Enough with the name calling, Iggy," he seethes through gritted teeth.
Iggy snorts. Why relent when Ludwig felt so inclined to butt into his business? No mercy for the curious fool. Iggy shrugs.
"At least we're doing something about it. Unlike you." Iggy gives him a condescending glance before he seemingly isn't impressed by the sight and chooses to stare at the wall instead. "You're always too afraid to break a few rules to find answers."
Roy chooses to be a highly amused spectator as the bickering continues, hiding his snickers behind a cupped hand while Iggy and Ludwig duke it out with words. The more red Ludwig turns, the more Iggy stokes the fire with a laugh.
"Guys," Lemmy's voice squeals over the walkie talkie, cutting the nagging short, "the target is—"
The rapid ringing of a dying walkie talkie fills their ears. Then, nothing. Silence. Dead silence.
…
After ravaging the cabinets to curb his craving for something salty, Bowser heads in the direction of his study with a full stomach. His pounding footsteps rattle the empty hallway and he psyches himself up to tackle the latest pile on his desk the closer he gets to his study.
Though he wearily admits it's all in vain—he doubts he'll accomplish much with his somber mood. He's been stuck in quite a funky smelling funk for days now and can't seem to crawl his way out of it.
Lately, he cannot deny he's been a bit indecisive and uncharacteristically pensive with a… complicated issue he brought forth to Kamek a week ago: adopting the children. Funnily enough, he had been excited by the prospect of adding onto his family when he first mentioned it, but the closer he got to actually asking them—well, he'd prefer just nosediving into a pit of lava without Kamek's magic and praying for the best.
Sure, the necessary paperwork for the process is as tedious as the paperwork he sifts through on a daily basis (except Saturday; those are his days off), but at least there isn't the looming pain of rejection hanging over his head when he raises the taxes on the nobility or settles a dispute about inflation.
His stomach begins to churn violently thinking about the repercussions of asking for their permission, imagining all the 'what-if's' because there's seven children—which means there's an endless number of possibilities. He can't predict how it'll all play out.
Kamek claims he's being too pessimistic towards an outcome yet to happen. Of course, Bowser will never reach that hurdle on the track if he refuses to acknowledge its existence. He'd stumble head first into it before he admits it's actually there.
What if they never want to talk to him again? What if they decide to run away because he's overstepping boundaries again? What if—
Ugh. A throb of pain in Bowser's skull causes him to sharply wince. He's overthinking things again. Massaging at his temples, Bowser turns down his secret corridor the servants tend to avoid. As he rounds a corner, Bowser hears the bickering before he sees it.
He can make out Ludwig's stern voice intermingling with Iggy's elated giggles and sardonic remarks with the occasional jeers of Roy insulting both of them as he laughs boisterously when they both turn on him.
Bowser's loud approach is masked by their arguments and he sneaks up on them too easily. He watches for a brief moment, wondering if they'll eventually notice him. They don't, too enraptured in their debate to care. Okay, time to stop this.
Bowser sighs, rubbing at his forehead. "Alright, what are we fighting about now?"
All three of them jump. Before anyone volunteers to explain, Lemmy barrels around the corner, frantically waving his hands. He runs past his siblings, unable to put on the breaks, and rams straight into Bowser, colliding with his bulky carapace.
Lemmy bounces back and tumbles with a painful squeak, landing on his bottom. His hands fly to his nostrils, massaging the wounded area gently.
"Ouchie," Lemmy prods at his sore snout. "Did I run into a wall?" he ponders aloud until he opens his watering eyes to find the wall very much alive and breathing, staring directly down at him.
He perks up immediately at the sight of Bowser. "Oh, hi Bowser!" He waves cutely.
At the sight of the kid, the warmth Bowser experiences in his chest is instantaneous. Lemmy has this calming effect on everyone in the castle—including the guards and servants. His smile is so infectious, the castle has conjured up the nickname: the 'Lemmy Flu.'
Already accepting he's contaminated, Bowser grins down at the kid, resisting the urge to run his hands through his colorful hair slowly turning blonde at the roots—he'll have to inquire Kamek about dying Lemmy's hair; maybe using the power of magic to keep it permanent.
Lemmy doesn't squirm due to his fussy prodding like Junior does since he's older. During his search, Bowser 'accidentally' tickles his sides, eliciting a few giggles from Lemmy as the child playfully swats Bowser's hand away. Thankfully, the little Koopa appears to be fine. Lemmy even manages to blink away the tears in his eyes as the pain in his snout recedes. Reassured by his self-examination, Bowser sets Lemmy down on the pads of his feet.
"Alright kiddo, where's the fire?" he asks jokingly.
Lemmy shakes his head, hair blurring into a rainbow. "No fire this time, Boss." He salutes while smiling widely and sways on his heels. "Iggy and I were playing spies—" he holds up a walkie talkie, "and you were our target. We've been following you around all day."
"Lemmy," Iggy hisses, glaring at the littlest Koopa child.
Bowser blinks, taken back. How had he not noticed that? He thought he heard some giggling, but he was too scared to admit it was real. Wait—no, he definitely wasn't afraid. Moving on…
Bowser cocks a brow. "Really? Why me?"
A frown pulls at the corners of Lemmy's upturned mouth. He scuffles a claw against the floor, fiddling with the device in his hands. He looks up at Bowser with shimmering eyes and Bowser nearly clutches his chest to stop the persistent ache.
"Because everyone's worried about you," Lemmy half-whispers. Bowser's heart receives a remorseful stab. "You've been kinda off lately."
Ah. His awful mood is polluting the castle air it seems. Oops. He needs to be more conscious of his public moping and save it for later. Then again, hiding it from Lemmy is nearly impossible. He needs to rectify this issue immediately and quell their concerns. If only the kids knew the reasoning involved them, but Bowser isn't ready for this conversation now.
"Oh," Bowser grins, ruffling up his hair because he can't fight it any longer. He glances at each child individually. "It's just a personal problem I'm having trouble solving. It's not anything bad. You guys don't have to worry about it. When the time comes, I'll tell you all; I promise."
Lemmy nods, accepting the answer and all signs of sadness are wiped clean of his face. Strange. That was too fast even for him. And suspicious. The corner of his mouth twitches once. Then, unexpectedly, Lemmy lifts his walkie talkie to his lips.
"Hop, the target is in the splash zone."
Hop?
"Roger that," is Iggy's reply.
Before Bowser can ask what that means Iggy tosses a balloon full of frigid water, nailing Bowser straight in the face. He shouts pathetically as it explodes on impact, stumbling clumsily back like he's been hit by the massive force of a banzai bill instead of one measly balloon.
The cold water scatters, raining onto Roy and Ludwig, causing them both to voice their complaints. The backsplash is so large, it sprays against the cobblestone walls behind them and manages to put out a not-so-lucky scone.
Lemmy giggles wickedly, soaking in the few moments he has as he admires his handiwork while Bowser shakes off the chilling water before the little prankster bolts out of there, followed by a cackling Iggy.
Bowser growls, rubbing away the water dripping from his hair and into his stinging eyes. "Those little—"
"Get back here!" Roy roars furiously, pounding after his brothers. His stomps practically rattle the entire castle as he gives chase.
Ludwig merely sighs, swiping his soggy blue hair out of his eyes. He fluffs it up then combs his claws through his mane making a displeased, but extremely humorous, face when it refuses to heed his commands. It takes a few minutes before he deems it presentable enough to leave alone.
Finally, with his hair tamed, he turns to properly address Bowser. "A word of advice: never trust them when they're alone together." Ludwig rolls his eyes. "Despite Lemmy's innocent demeanor and emotional maturity, he's also as devious as the resident schemer."
Bowser groans, feeling betrayed. "How can something so cute be so evil?" he mutters, ruffling up his wet mane.
Ludwig snorts. "Where do you think Iggy got it from? The baby face Lemmy has is quite the gift—which he wields accordingly."
Bowser shoots Ludwig a dry look. "A heads up would have been appreciated."
Ludwig casts Bowser a flat look to rival his own. "As if you'd believe me." Ludwig wiggles his pointer finger. "He has you wrapped around his little finger. If he asked for the key to the castle; you would give it to him without hesitation."
That's—that's true. He fell into this trap and he fell hard on his ass.
"Those punks," Bowser grumbles instead, not exactly furious at them, but mad at himself for not seeing it sooner.
Ludwig suddenly smiles, regarding Bowser warmly with a nod of agreement. "I think we should take a page from Lemmy's book and look at the bright side."
Bowser frowns. There's a bright side here?
"Which is?" he asks because he definitely can't see it.
Ludwig appears almost wistful, glancing in the direction in which his noisy brothers ran. "I haven't heard them laugh like that in so long." He sighs longingly, his gentle gaze flickering to Bowser. "It means things are definitely looking up. There's normalcy now and a sense of comfort that only comes with being home."
The way Ludwig says 'home' makes Bowser's heart sway and his stomach becomes a mushy concoction of fuzzy cotton balls and fluttering butterfly wings. He half-wonders if his unhealthy binge of snacks is catching up to him, but that wouldn't explain the stupid smile on his face.
Home. They call this place home now.
It placates his anger and maybe brings a new stinging to his eyes which he vehemently denies. A sigh escapes his mouth, followed by an impressive puff of smoke.
"Fine, I'll let this one slide." He rubs the back of his neck, admitting defeat. For now.
Ludwig hums a low note, gaining Bowser's attention. He meets Bowser's confusion with a sinister half-smirk. "Why do that when plotting revenge is just as fun?"
Bowser grins evilly. "I'm open to suggestions."
Ludwig's face darkens and he conspiringly rubs his hands together. "I may have a few."
Oops. Also, really wanna know if anyone saw this coming because my "beta reader" didn't. Lemmy had him fooled too. I really wanted to show why Iggy and Lemmy are partners in crime because they're so stinking cute.