A/N: As of the time of writing Splatoon 3 is nearing it's one year anniversary. Here's to one year, fellas.
Shiver's heels clicked rhythmically upon the rooftops with every step she took as she briskly strode towards the dingy scrapyard near the edge of Splatsville.
The block on this end of the city was calmer than the rest; quiet and less densely packed as a result of being so close to the outer fringes. That calm was accentuated by the melodious chirping of crickets, the fluttering of moths around flickering lamp posts and the gentle shimmer of tree branches swaying about in the cool night air. Serene as it was, she couldn't stop to admire the atmosphere, not when she was nearing the end of her journey.
She picked up the pace when her destination came into view, breaking into a sprint as she leapt and flipped across building to building with all the grace of a wily bandit out on the prowl. Her hearts throbbed almost painfully in her chest as the night dragged on, brief flashes of Tres being dragged into the endless starry abyss by that horrible Mr. Grizz continued to plague her thoughts even as she remained focused on her run.
After some time, she reached the scrapyard where Tres lived and operated his business. She stood crouched atop one of the many lamp posts illuminating the street silently observing the premises from her perch.
It was a dirty, ugly place surrounded by a chain linked fence that had been fitted with razor wire in order to deter the common riff-raff from getting any bright ideas about trespassing on private property. An obnoxiously large sign hung above the front gates advertising in big cursive Inklish letters: 'Tres's Treasure Trove,' a name he was particularly proud of.
He was cute like that.
Tall piles of miscellaneous junk ranging from mundane scrap metal cubes to larger heaps of broken down machinery, some even alien in origin judging by the dead language printed on them, were stacked haphazardly atop old splintery palettes or stored in large beat-up dumpsters waiting to be sold off.
Situated far to the back of the scrapyard was Tres's shack, a humble little home characterized by a banged up tin roof, faded red paint and a lone cactus in bloom with yellow flowers growing on the windowsill. Beside the shack was a detached garage where he kept his junk hauler parked as well as other smaller, more valuable scrap secure in storage. He would also use it as a workshop to tinker around with his inventions (a word she used very loosely).
Fortune smiled upon her. Judging by the lights from the garage windows Tres was still up, no doubt pulling another all nighter building more of his rickety hammered-together toys. She rolled her eyes, it was a habit he really needed to kick. Though she wasn't one to talk, being the scheming rooftop hopping minx she was.
Leaping down with a soft thud Shiver sauntered up towards the front gates, it was held firmly shut by a sturdy length of chain and a weighty padlock.
Rummaging through her pockets she sought to retrieve the master key Tres had given to her sometime after they had gotten together. He'd made it himself, painstakingly replicated from his own using nothing but a chunk of steel, files and patient determination, complete with a crude but recognizable emblem of the Carcharadon Clan. It was a symbol of his trust in her, a heartfelt gift that cemented the bond they shared between them as lovers.
Once located she quickly slotted it into the padlock and unlocked it, unraveling the chains before swinging the gate wide open. She had gained entry but then suddenly found herself at a pause, her foot on the verge of taking the very next step as she began pondering if she should be intruding so late into the night.
She told herself she just needed to see him. That was all. Just a quick peek to quell her worries then she'll leave. In and out, simple as. Of course, nothing was ever as simple as it seems, not with her at least...
Taking a deep breath, she marched straight into the scrapyard, making sure the gate was secured once more before trekking towards the garage.
The soft crunching of dirt and gravel beneath her feet crackled across the night air, she kept focus on the sound to keep her nerves steady.
Partway through she noticed something that brought a small smile to her face.
It was Little Buddy fast asleep in the little home Tres had built for him out of junk. It resembled a large chicken coop in that it was raised off the ground, had a slanted roof and a ramp for him to waddle up and down on. Nothing less than quality craftsmanship would be appropriate for Tres's best friend in the whole wide world.
Little Buddy laid on his side by the main doorway, the towel he used as a blanket splayed out at the end of his tail and a snot bubble steadily rising and falling from his nose as he looked to be having quite the vivid dream. His face was scrunched up, deeply focused upon some task in his head as his tail flipped wild to and fro with his fins outstretched chasing some illusory goal, scrumptious foodstuffs, more than likely.
An airy giggle escaped Shiver's lips. Little Buddy could be adorable at times, you know, for a ravenous Salmonid. She reached over to gingerly draping the blanket over his pudgy silver body and gave him a brief pat on the head before moving on, totally unaware of the content smile that formed on the Salmonid's face as she turned away from him.
Shiver soon reached the garage shortly after. The shutters were open and the interior was brightly lit. Loud hammering could be heard from within, the sporadic clashing of metal upon metal would be enough to wake up the entire neighborhood were it not for how isolated the scrapyard was from the rest of the block. She didn't know what he was making this time but if he was still up at this hour whatever it was had his utmost attention.
She swallowed thickly as she sidled up against the side of the garage, as to make sure she would not be seen before peering around the corner. At long last, she spotted Tres off the corner of her eyes and the lingering fear that remained gripped at her heart loosened, though it was not completely gone. Biting the bottom of her lip she continued spying on him, watching his every move with cat-like curiosity.
Tres was alive and well, obviously. Handsome too in a rugged salt-of-the-Earth sort of way, though blissfully unaware of her presence as he continued to burn the midnight oil. He was hunched over his workbench, hammer in hand diligently hacking away at, well, she didn't know what it was or what it did, only he felt the need to forego valuable sleep in order to finish it.
He would pause every so often between his hammering, bringing up a hand to wipe away the sweat from his brow and take a breather. Shiver felt her cheeks grow hot as they became dusted with a bright powder blue, it had taken her far too long to realize that he was shirtless. Apart from some faded blue jeans, dusty work boots and the protective goggles over his eyes it would seem that a shirt was unnecessary.
His exposed back and broad shoulders glistened with perspiration under the light, accentuating the definition of his muscles making his sun-kissed skin tone all the more brighter and alluring like bronze molded into one fine specimen. She couldn't help but stare in befuddlement and felt like a pervert for letting it go on as long as it did. It was only when she started to draw blood from biting down her lips too tightly that she snapped from her stupor.
Shaking away any impure thoughts she attempted to leave the premises but her body would not obey her commands. She had gotten what she wanted already, she had told herself this was it and that it was enough, but again, nothing was as simple as it seems. Sucking in a sharp breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten in her head before stepping in.
The plop-plop-plop of her footsteps as she entered the garage immediately caught Tres's attention and he stopped mid swing. Gently setting down the hammer he reached his hands up to remove his protective goggles from his eyes before turning around to face Shiver with a frown etched on his face.
"Listen, buddy. The last guy who thought he could just swim through the fences and nick my goods is eating food through a straw now, so I highly suggest you scram before I-" Tres threatened but stopped mid sentence once he saw that it was Shiver that had snuck up on him. "S-Shiver?" he stared in bafflement, his hostility fizzling away as his turquoise eyes met the smoldering ruby of Shiver's own.
"...Hello, Tres," Shiver greeted warmly, a sad smile gracing her features. "It's a... beautiful night out, wouldn't you say?" she muttered lamely, nervously rubbing at her arm.
"Er, yeah. Yeah, it is," Tres replied just as awkwardly. He felt like a buffoon getting tongue-tied with his own girlfriend. Granted the circumstances were unusual, even for them, but he loved her too much to be fumbling around with his words. "I guess if you're here then that means you used the master key I gave you to get past the gate. Or, at least I hoped you did."
"I did," said Shiver, finding it harder and harder to maintain eye contact with her precious. "I promised I wouldn't sneak around anymore, not after-"
"Up-bup-bup! It's okay!" Tres interjected, his eyes turning wide as dinner plates and his face glowing a bright yellow as he brought up both his hands to prevent her from speaking any further. "You don't gotta say it. We both agreed that things got a little out of hand that night."
"Out of hand, right. That's it," She couldn't help grinning sheepishly at the memory, but the levity was short lived. "Um... You're working late again," she spoke in a tone she'd used time and time again. It was both authoritative and concerning.
"Uh, I was just-" Tres tried to explain, only to be interrupted by Shiver.
"You need to go to bed," she stated firmly.
"I-er, what?" he had trouble responding, wondering how the conversation had been turned on its head so suddenly. "Did... Did you come all the way out here just to tell me tha-?"
"You," Shiver interrupted again, eyes steely and lips set in a thin line before stomping right up to his face until they were nose to nose and prodding a red finger at his bare chest, "need to go to bed."
Tres gulped, having backed up from her advance as he stared deep into her eyes. She was serious about it, it honestly caught him off guard. The two stood in silence together waiting for the other to respond. During that time he could see beyond her stoic gaze and how they glimmered with concern for his well-being, along with something else he couldn't make out. He chuckled dryly, conceding to her demand shortly after, letting his hands fall to the side.
"...You're the boss lady," he smiled gently, a sight that helped to lighten the weight from Shiver's hearts. "Lemme clean up the place real quick and then I'll hit the hay. You don't gotta worry your pretty face bout nothing."
"I'll help you," Shiver sighed, wrapping her hands around his own. "Please, I insist."
Tres gave it some thought before shrugging. It was really late at night and he wouldn't say no to getting some help from a beautiful Octoling. "Alright, but only because you insisted."
