Battle of Buttons: Gray's Date (Part 8) (Patreon)

Part 1: https://www.patreon.com/posts/64548439

Part 2: https://www.patreon.com/posts/battle-of-part-2-64785102

Part 3: https://www.patreon.com/posts/battle-of-part-3-67312625

Part 4 (Glitch): https://www.patreon.com/posts/battle-of-date-4-67695714

Part 5 (Kenzie): https://www.patreon.com/posts/67923270

Part 6 (Rosy): https://www.patreon.com/posts/battle-of-rosys-68067250

Part 7 (Sally): https://www.patreon.com/posts/68714214 

* * * *

Three humans (Nick, Hope, and John Wiseman) sit behind judges panel before a lifted stage, in front of a table covered with a purple cloth that reads “TRUEST LOVE QUEST 💜” in sparkly silver cursive. The center judging chair, twice as large as the others, holds Gil.

The demon observes stage with thinly veiled displeasure: Glitch, Sally, and Kent are all seated in a row of chairs, flanked by an anxious-looking Grayson and an extremely unhappy Ambrose (whose mouth has been covered by an X of duct tape in compromise for being unshrunk and let out of the now-empty birdcage).

Grayson, to Ambrose: It’s the best I could do.

Ambrose, angrily: Mmmph.

Gil clears his throat.

Gil: Welcome back, one and all, to Truest Love Quest, a show by demons and for demons, where characters—I mean, contestants compete to prove themselves as Button’s most canon love match!

Kent glances down at his wristwatch.

Kent: It’s almost five o’clock.

Gil: You can’t rush perfection! We’ve watched as each contestant has given insight into their unique relationship with Button. We’ve oohed and ahhed over their—

Glitch: He needs to get home to feed the dogs.

Kent nods. Gil has the decency to duck his horned head as if feeling guilty, but then carries on undaunted in his booming announcer voice.

Gil: Only one contestant remains, and—

Nick: We’ve saved the best for last.

Gil looks annoyed at the second interruption. He clears his throat again, this time a little more pointedly, his crimson eyes darkening to a blackened red.

Gil: Only one contestant remains, and he’s a strong contender! The favorite of mothers everywhere, Grayson Black is—

Hope: I prefer that Button doesn’t end up with a Ment.

Gil (very, very quietly): I will kill the next human that interrupts me.

No one speaks, and even Ambrose only glares at the demon. Gil’s lips curve in a joyless smile.

Gil: So glad that we understand each other. Now, Grayson, why don’t you tell the audience what you have planned for your fantasy date today?

Grayson: Oh. Um, well, you see . . .

Gil: Since you went last, you’ve had plenty of time to come up with an idea.

Gil’s inauthentic grin flattens.

Gil: You DID come up with an idea, didn’t you?

Grayson: Yes, but . . . I’m having second thoughts.

Nick, encouragingly: I’m sure it’s a phenomenal idea.

Grayson: It’s not about the idea itself, per se. I’m just not certain if I’m willing to walk relative strangers through my private life.

He glances apologetically at Kent, Glitch, and finally Gil.

Grayson: No offense meant.

Kent shrugs, then nudges discretely Glitch before she can sarcastically retort.

Gil: Offense taken. I’m not a stranger; I’m your host. Regardless, It’s your turn, Mr. Black.

Grayson: Yes, but I’ve reconsidered. This “competition,” as you call it, won’t change my life with Ellery.

Gil: It’s. Your. Turn.

Grayson: Yet, if it’s all the same, I’d rather not put my relationship on exhibit to be gawked at.

Gil glares at Grayson.

Grayson smiles apologetically back, but his gaze remains resolute.

Gil: You’re more like Ambrose Kim than readers realize, aren’t you?

Grayson, mildly: I consider Ambrose to have many admirable qualities.

Gil: Unfortunately for both you and Ambrose Kim, this is my show.

Gil snaps two clawed fingers. The scenery twists and warps, reforming into a living room.

The living room is barren except for a comfortable couch, with half-packed moving boxes lining the wall.

Sally’s Voice: Is this another memory? Because playing a memory was my idea, so I’m pretty sure that’s plagiarism.

Glitch’s Voice: Sally. Dear, tiny, Sally. This is a matter of Truest Love. This isn’t something we can cheat at.

Sally’s Voice: Stop sucking up to the demon so that you get picked.

Glitch’s smirk isn’t visible given the change of scenery, but her expression is clearly advertised by Sally’s exasperated sigh.

A version of Grayson enters the living room. He’s wearing pajama bottoms without a top, his bedhead uncombed and his jaw scratchy with morning stubble.

Grayson’s Voice, from offstage: This isn’t a dream. It’s what we’ve been planning—our future together.

Sally’s Voice: Yeah, well, the future is kind of my thing as well.

Nick’s Voice: You and Sam are moving in together?

Grayson’s Voice: I’ve never met Sam. But if “Sam” is your “Button,” then yes.

Nick lets out a celebratory whoop.

In the living room, Grayson looks over his shoulder. His expression breaks out in a wide smile that’s both tenderly affectionate and teasingly amused.

Gray: Sleep well, sweetheart?

Button enters the living room. Having been unable to locate their pajamas the night before, they’ve resorted to wearing an oversized t-shirt from Nick’s band days, emblazoned with the logo of Nick screaming from behind photoshopped icicle bars and the words “Ment Hell Ice Slum.”

Button, sounding hoarse: I don’t know what my brother was thinking, choosing that name for his band.

Gray: How’s your throat feeling?

Button: Still scratchy. You probably shouldn’t kiss me, or I’ll give you my cold.

Gray: I’ll risk it.

Gray pulls Button towards them with easy familiarity, nuzzling their cheek. Button pulls a face and bats him away.

Gray: Sorry. My razer is still packed in with the kitchen knives.

He pauses.

Gray: Nick packed all the sharp things in one box.

Button groans and rolls their eyes.

Gray: You guessed it.

Gray chuckles.

Gray, teasingly: Oh, I’d say Nick treats you like you’re at least ten years old.

Button heads over to one of the unpacked boxes and kneels down. They pull out a pair of scissors and snap it in Gray’s direction mock-threateningly.

Button: You, of course, will let me unpack whichever box I desire.

Gray: It was a hard lesson, but I did eventually realize that I couldn’t protect you from everything.

Button stands up and gives Gray’s lips a quick peck.

Gray: You bring out the best in me.

Button grins, and Gray smiles back adoringly.

Gray: I love you, too.

Glitch’s Voice: Not to be rude and interrupt what I assume to be a touching moment for a certain stranger, but what exactly is going on here?

Gil’s Voice: Oh! I forgot the subtitles; allow me to rewind.

As if played upon television, the entire scene in the living room quickly backtracks to Gray nuzzling Button’s cheek and Button subsequently pushing him away.

Button: Too stubbly.

There’s a small gasp from Hope as she realizes Gray is hearing Button’s thoughts.

Gray: Sorry. My razer is still packed in with the kitchen knives.

Button: Why would your shaving razer be packed with kitchen supplies?

Gray: Nick packed all the sharp things in one box.

Button: Let me guess. He told you not to let me handle that one, right?

Gray: You guessed it.

Button: I swear, you chop the tip of your finger off ONE time while playing sous chef, and suddenly your entire family acts like you’re a five-year-old that runs with scissors.

Gray: Oh, I’d say Nick treats you like you’re at least ten.

Button heads over to one of the unpacked boxes and kneels down. They pull out a pair of scissors and snap it in Gray’s direction mock-threateningly.

Button: You, of course, will let me unpack whichever box I desire.

Gray: It was a hard lesson, but I did eventually realize that I couldn’t protect you from everything.

Button stands up and gives Gray’s lips a quick peck.

Button: Maybe you should’ve taken MY last name when we got married. Because you’re clearly a very wise man.

Gray: You bring out the best in me.

Button: I love you.

Gray: I love you, too.

The two unpack, the conversation continuing with Button only bothering to speak out loud while outside of Gray’s brainrange, their audibly hoarse whisper a stark contrast to the gentle flow of thought they direct towards Gray whenever he’s near enough to read their mind.

Button’s side of the conversation ebbs in and out of verbalization like a tide—the rhythm feels completely natural between the two. As they begin unpacking boxes on opposite sides of the room, both fall into a comfortable silence.

Then Button lets out a sudden bark of laughter.

Gray: What’s so funny?

Button: I thought of a prank that we should play on Nick and was waiting for you to tell me it was too mean. I forgot you were too far away to hear.

Gray: Do I want to know?

Button: I mean, you’ll know anyway. And I think it’s funny.

Gray takes a seat on the floor next to Button. At their nod, he scoots closer and rests a hand on Button’s shoulder. Immediately, his cheeks flood with color.

There’s a flash of imagery: bared skin, rumpled bedsheets, the sound of a gentle spank.

Gray: A prank is not what you were just thinking about.

Button: Gotcha.

Button winks at him, then stands. They begin to head out of the living room, pausing at the doorway to turn back and cast Gray a sultry look.

Button: Shall we adjourn back to the bedroom, Mr. Black?

Grayson’s Voice: Okay! Okay. Gil, that’s enough. You can stop the scene now.

Gil’s Voice: Are you sure? In my opinion, what comes next makes a compelling case for yours and Button’s compatibility.

Grayson’s Voice: Stop the scene. Please.

Gil heaves a disgruntled sigh. The living room fades, replaced by the familiar stage and judges panel.

Gil: Fine. I suppose we don’t want to upset Hell’s Family Review Board.

Glitch, to Kent: Did he really just say that?

Nick: Grayson.

Grayson, tentatively: Yes, Nick.

Nick: I love you like a brother.

Grayson: The feeling is mutual.

Nick: And Button is my actual sibling.

Grayson: I’m aware.

Nick: . . .

Grayson: . . .

Nick: . . .

Grayson: In my defense, I did tell Gil that I changed my mind.

Sally: I never would’ve thought that Grayson’s date would be the kinky one.

Glitch tuts in an over-the-top fashion.

Glitch: How shameless! Such a vulgar display, and in front of Button’s own parents.

Kent shakes his head.

Ambrose, disapprovingly: Mmph.

John: Well, I for one think it’s nice that Grayson and Button have a healthy—

Nick: Dad.

Hope: You’re the one always pushing those two together, honey.

Nick: Yeah, but usually I block off Button’s thoughts whenever they start going that direction. I didn’t expect to have a front row’s seat to the prelude of Grayson’s sex fantasy.

Grayson, defensively: It wasn’t a sex fantasy.

Nick throws Gray a disbelieving glance.

Grayson: I thought Gil would end it sooner. Look, can we please just move on?

Nick: You still have my vote, man. But, Gil, I’m going to need a memory wipe before you send us back to reality.

Gil: That can be arranged.