Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mokey had been bothering him all day about what his secret was, but he couldn't be upset. After all, it was his fault for letting slip that he had a secret in the first place. It started when his friends were playing truth or dare in the Great Hall by the pool, and despite how clear he had made that he wasn't playing, Gobo called on him anyway.

"Hey, Boober's been awful quiet, and he hasn't had a turn yet! Truth or dare?"

"I'm not playing."

"Of course you are, we're all playing!"

Then Wembley smiled at him, and it was over. "C'mon, Boober! Just one turn can't hurt!"

"Fine," he grumbled. "Dare."

Which was the wrong thing to say, because the only reason Boober "Doom" Fraggle would ever choose dare is because he's hiding a deep, dark secret. A secret deeper and darker than the fact that he has intrusive thoughts, or pulls at his hair or picks at his skin, which his friends already knew about.

So after the game, of course nosey old Mokey wouldn't stop bothering him. The worst part was when she started guessing. Boober didn't know it, but she was guessing the wrong things on purpose; which was frustrating, because none of what she guessed was true, and it was embarrassing, because other fraggles could have been listening.

Then the other three fraggles had walked past them, and suspiciously, that was when Mokey decided to give up. She sensed Boober was feeling tense, so she invited him over to her place for some tea.

"I know what it is," she said, pouring him a cup from her teapot.

Boober's hands started to shake as he grabbed at the handle of his cup. "You do?" He asked, managing to keep his voice steady.

"You like, like somebody, and it's one of our friends!" She smiled. Of course she was smiling, if there was a fraggle obsessed with romance, it was Mokey.

Boober gulped his tea. "Oh yeah? Who?" He challenged.

Mokey clapped her hands. "It's Wembley!"

Boober slammed his cup back on its saucer before he could drop it. "How'd you know?"

"Well it couldn't be Gobo or Red, they're too dangerous for a guy like you. And it isn't me, because if it was, I would have known ages ago. That leaves Wembley, and you and him are pretty close!"

Boober slumped back in his chair and started rubbing his head. "I hate to admit it, but you're right." He looked around the cave. "No other fraggle knows about this, right?"

"Not that I know of," Mokey giggled. "But there is one fraggle who should know!"

Boober waved his hands in and out. "No way! No way I'm telling him! It's not worth it if he doesn't feel the same!"

Mokey frowned. "Well, why not?"

"Because if he does, well, it'd be too good to be true!"

Mokey shook her head. "Oh Boober, that's silly! Remember what Jamdolin told you? Not everything is bound to be the worst case scenario! The year just started, and good things are bound to happen!"

Boober sighed. "I know, I know good things are happening this year, but how do I know this is it? The good things could be anything, and the bad things too! I just don't wanna risk it."

"Risk what, exactly?" Mokey asked gently.

"I dunno, our friendship? We've been getting so much closer lately, and even that feels too good to be true! Realistically, it's hard to imagine we could be anything more."

For some reason, Boober felt like crying. He reminded himself all the time that it might not work out with Wembley, why was saying it out loud bumming him out so much?

Just then a knock was heard outside of the cave, and Mokey got up to answer it.

"Hey Mokey, is Boober home?" Wembley asked quietly.

Mokey smiled gently. "He is! Why don't you come in?"

Boober gulped and got up from his seat. As soon as Wembley saw him, he rushed toward him for a tight hug.

"Boober! Red and Gobo told me to leave you alone, they told me not to even worry about it, but I can't help it! I'm so sorry I pressured you to play! Whatever your secret is, you don't have to tell me, but if you want to, I'll always be there for you! No matter what it is, I'll always wanna be your friend!"

Boober didn't really know what to do besides hug him back. The poor guy seemed to be just as upset as he was!

"Oh, it's okay, Wembley. It's no big deal, really..."

"Really?"

"Yeah... I've always kind of wanted to tell you anyway..."

Wembley pulled back to look at Boober. "Yeah? What is it?"

Boober's heart stopped upon realizing what he just said. "I'll tell you later..." He said, unsure of himself.

Wembley finally let go of Boober.

"Okay," he said. "I'm gonna go catch up with Gobo and Red. They want my help preparing for dinner. You guys can join us, if you want."

"That sounds delightful, Wembley!" Mokey said. "We'll see you soon!"

Wembley waved goodbye as he walked out the door. "See you there!"

Mokey smiled at Boober. "This is perfect!"

"What in Gorg's name are you talking about? This is most certainly not perfect! It is the opposite, in fact! When I show up, all they're gonna wanna know is what my secret is! They probably think I've killed somebody! Why did you promise him that I'd be there?" Boober ranted.

"Oh, Boober, it's not so bad! Red and Gobo have probably already forgotten that you have a secret, and Wembley already told you that no matter what, he'd still be your friend! And speaking of Wembley, I think he likes you, too!"

"What could possibly make you think that?"

"Well, he seemed to be awfully worried about you! And like you said, the two of you have been getting a lot closer lately!"

Boober sat back down and slumped in his chair. "I know, but that's just typical Wembley, y'know? He's always worried about his friends, and it just so happens that we've been spending more time together. I don't see any reason why he'd like me, anyway."

"Aw, Boober, don't say that! There are plenty of things for him to like about you! Besides, he's complimenting you all the time! And he even talks about you when you're not around!"

"Really? What does he say?"

Mokey giggled again. "He says how nice you are, silly!"

Boober groaned. "But I'm not nice! I'm grumpy, and a little rude sometimes!"

"Being grumpy doesn't mean you're not nice! And we're all a little rude sometimes, we're still growing up! You're perfectly fine the way you are!"

"I'm still not entirely convinced."

Mokey shrugged. "Then I guess you'll never really know whether he likes you or not."

Boober squirmed in his seat. The thought that Wembley could never like him like that was sort of comforting in a way, because then he at least knew where he stood with him. But after everything Mokey told him, the thought of never knowing at all was just unbearable! He had to know the truth, whether it worked out in his favor or not.

"No! I wanna know!"

Mokey smiled again. "Then you have to tell him!"

"I can't!"

"Then you'll never know!"

"No, you don't understand, Mokey. I can't. Believe it or not, I've tried before, and it just doesn't happen. The words just don't come out."

Upon hearing this, Mokey gasped and absolutely lit up. "You know what that means, don't you?"

"It means... I'm a coward?" Boober guessed.

"No, silly! It means you can write a poem for him!"

Boober just sat there, jaw agape while Mokey frantically searched  her cave for parchment, quills, and ink.  She set these items in front of Boober on the table and smiled proudly.

"Oh, Mokey, I don't think this is going to work. I don't know the first thing about a love poem!"

"The first thing is that it must come from the heart and speak to your soul!"

"I don't think I've ever even read a love poem, I have no frame of reference for what I'm doing!"

Mokey hummed thoughtfully. "Then... I'll let you take inspiration from some of mine!"

Boober stared at her blankly. "You write love poems?"

"Of course I do!"

"Who are they for?"

Mokey blushed a deeper shade of pink. "Red," she whispered.

Boober smiled. "I should have known," he said smugly.

"But you mustn't tell a soul! And I won't let you read the whole poems, they're too personal.  I'll read a few lines for you, let me grab my journal."

Boober stared at the parchment in front of him as Mokey rifled through some drawers to find her most private journal. He realized it wasn't exactly fair that he couldn't read any of her poems himself, but she was definitely going to read his. He decided not to say anything about it.

Mokey flipped through the pages of her journal as she approached the table. With no introduction, she began reading.

"Red is the color of roses, red is the color that pumps through the heart. Red is the color of romance, and many things, for a start."

She looked at Boober expectantly, though she couldn't gauge his reaction. She read another line.

"Sweet and sunny, be my honey. Sugary and sure, I am all yours."

"Nice alliteration," Boober offered.

That wasn't exactly the reaction she was going for- she was trying to inspire him! She flipped the page and read another line again, "And if you are poetry, let me be your performer- let me sing and list your finest details in order-"

Boober sat up straighter. "Hey, that's a good one!"

Mokey shut her journal and smiled again. "What did you like about it?"

"I guess, the metaphor? Or is it a similie? The figurative language! I like it! I wish I could do it!"

Mokey grinned from ear to ear. "You can! Let me help you! Is there a song or work of art that Wembley reminds you of?"

Boober hummed. "Not particularly, I've never thought of it that way," he said.

Mokey brought a hand to her chin. "Is there anything he reminds you of? Like, an object or a phrase?"

Boober looked at the objects around him. The teapot, his teacup and saucer, the table, the curtains. He then pondered the items Mokey most recently put in front of him.

"Wembley is like... the ink in this bottle," he said.

"How so?"

"He's... always following me. And no matter how hard I try, I can't wash him out. I find smudges of him everywhere."

"Metaphorically, right? Like you can't get him out of your head?"

"Yeah, exactly!"

"That's so sweet!"

"I guess it is."

"You should write that down!"

Boober picked up a quill and dipped it in ink. He made one mark against the parchment before asking, "How should I word this?"

"However it feels right!"

Boober stared at the paper in front of him, took a deep breath, and wrote.

Dear Wembley,

Ink is what you are
Spilling on the table
And soon you'll be able
To bleed through my scarf
And reach into my heart

Parchment is what I'd like to be
To have you written all over me
I wonder if you want it, too
I want to be a part of you

Mokey walked around Boober and read over his shoulder. "It's just beautiful so far, Boober!"

"I think it's done, actually."

Mokey squinted. "Are you sure? It looks like you need a closing stanza. Most poems wave goodbye before they leave, you know?"

Boober scratched his head, and began to write again.

Love, Boober

"Okay," he said. "Now I'm done."

Mokey shrugged. "Well, I guess there aren't any rules in poetry. What you've got is pretty good, though! I'm sure Wembley will love it!"

Just then the reality of the situation dawned on Boober. How was he going to give Wembley the poem? Would he have to read it to him? He got up and began pacing the room with his hands on his head. "I don't think I can do this, Mokey..."

"Of course you can! It won't turn out nearly as bad as you think!"

"How would you know? Have you given any of your poems to Red?" He snapped.

"Well, no but..." Mokey paused, and put a hand on Boober's shoulder to stop his pacing. "Tell you what," she said, "if you give your poem to Wembley after dinner tonight, I'll give all of mine to Red. We can do it together!"

Boober sighed. Mokey was nice enough to read some of her most secret poems to inspire him, he couldn't let that trust go to waste. Besides, he supposed if they both got rejected, they could be there for each other. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

He took in a deep breath. "Fine, I'll give mine to Wembley if you give yours to Red," he said quietly, looking at the floor.

Mokey smiled the brightest she possibly could. "This is so exciting!" She squealed. "I've been waiting for just the right time to give mine to Red, and what better time than when a friend is in need of support?! Oh, thank you, Boober!" She brought him in for a hug.

Boober patted her on the back. "Thank you too, Mokey," he said. All he could think in that moment was that this was the point of no return.

While waiting for dinner, Boober couldn't decide whether time was passing too quickly or too slowly. He was dreading every single possibility of something going wrong, but at the same time, the anticipation was killing him.

Mokey suggested they play a game of cards, so that's what they did. Boober was too anxious to pay attention to which moves would work best, and Mokey was trying to let him win, so they were at a standstill- the one game lasted the entire time they were waiting. Eventually Mokey had to win, because it was time to leave, and she knew that Boober would have wanted the game to have closure. He didn't notice Mokey's tactics, so he was impressed that the game just happened to end at just the right time.

Then he realized that he had lost the game- was that a sign of bad luck? He had no time to think about it, as Mokey was practically pulling him out the door. He quickly stuffed the poem he wrote under his hat, while Mokey carried her whole journal in a pocket in her cardigan.

He briefly wondered if Mokey was nervous too, but she seemed pretty focused and eager to get to Gobo and Wembley's cave as fast as possible. She must have been waiting a long time for the perfect time to give her poems to Red.

Boober couldn't say the same for himself. He'd tried to tell Wembley about his feelings before, sure, but in those moments he was blinded with infatuation. Now that he was really thinking about it, he didn't think he could do it. It was all too real and, oh- they'd already made it to the cave.

Mokey didn't bother knocking on the walls outside, she just went right in. Boober followed her lead, ducking his head.

Red was already there, and Mokey rushed right over to her. Boober just stood right by the door, trying to make himself less noticeable.

It seemed as soon as Wembley turned around, however, Boober was the first thing he saw. He approached slowly, grabbed Boober's hand, and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. A chill ran down Boober's spine.

"Hey, I'm sorry I interrupted your tea time with Mokey, I was just so worried about you. I meant what I said, though. Nothing could make me turn away from you."

Boober tried not to sound too giddy, but he smiled in a reassuring way. "It's okay Wembley," he said. "Are you doing anything after dinner?"

"No," Wembley said. "Did you want to do something?"

Boober looked at their intertwined hands. "Yeah, just wanted to go for a walk." He looked back at Wembley. "With you," he added.

Wembley smiled. "Yeah! That sounds just fine!"

"Dinner's ready!" Gobo called, grabbing a pan off of the fire.

The four fraggles sat at the table while Gobo brought the pan and some plates over to them.

Gobo forked some food onto his plate, and passed the pan to Wembley, who then passed it to Boober. The dish was radish ratatouille, something Boober made for special occasions. He only gave himself a little bit, he wasn't feeling very hungry.

As he passed the pan over to Mokey, he whispered, "What's your plan with Red?"

Mokey tried to suppress a giggle. "She doesn't know it yet, but I'm taking her to kissing cavern!"

"Are you crazy? What if it doesn't go well?!"

Gobo and Red exchanged a look. "What are you two talking about?" Red asked. Gobo rolled his eyes.

Boober froze. Mokey simply turned toward her and said, "You'll find out later." Boober couldn't really tell, but he was convinced that Mokey had actually winked at her.

Wembley leaned in closer to Boober. "Aw, now I'm curious! What is going on?" He asked.

Boober found himself unable to respond, and after a second of stuttering, Gobo spoke up. "Mind your own business, Wembley. Looks like he doesn't wanna talk about it, eh?"

Wembley looked down at his plate. "Sorry, Boober," he said quietly.

Guilt filled Boober's head. He wished dinner was already over, so he could just say it and get it over with. "No, Wembley, it's okay. I was going to tell you anyway, now's just not a good time, y'know?" He whispered.

Wembley's head perked up. "Oh?! Right. Okay. Thanks Boober," he said, smiling sheepishly.

Gobo looked suspiciously between Mokey and Boober, but didn't say anything.

Dinner passed by awkwardly and slowly. While Mokey and Red seemed to be getting awfully friendly with one another, the other three fraggles didn't say much. At least Mokey was right, Red and Gobo seemed to have forgotten about Boober's secret.

Boober poked at his food, feeling less hungry by the second. Gobo looked at him with concern. "Alright, what's eatin' ya, Boober? I thought you loved radish ratatouille?"

Boober tensed, "I do, but-"

"What happened to minding your own business, Gobo?" Mokey snapped.

Mokey covered her mouth after saying it, the guilt settling in immediately.

Gobo huffed. "Sorry, Boober." He said.

"It's okay," Boober said again. He got up from his chair slowly. "Excuse me, I... need to get some air."

He paced toward the door, but as soon as he got outside, he bolted toward his own cave.

Back in Gobo's cave, he and Red didn't speak, didn't move an inch. Mokey almost got up to chase after him, but stopped when Wembley stood up on his chair.

"Now look what you've done!" He shouted at Gobo.

"What did I do? You were the one getting all up in his business!" Gobo defended himself.

"Well, first, you pressured him to play truth or dare-"

"You did, too!"

"I know I did! And I apologized already! And he told me- well, the rest isn't any of your business anyway!"

"What? He told you his secret, didn't he? I know Mokey knows, with the way they were whispering with each other!"

"Mind your own business, Gobo! So what if he did?" Mokey shouted.

Red looked at her suspiciously. "Why exactly did you invite me out, Mokey? You weren't gonna tell me his secret, were you?" She asked.

Mokey gasped. "Of course not, Red! I had something to give to you, it has nothing to do with Boober!" Her throat tightened. "Do you really think that little of me?"

Red's face fell. "No! Mokey, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

Suddenly Wembley jumped off his chair, and everyone looked at him. "What? Boober's out there, he's probably really upset, I don't have time to sit and listen to this! Excuse me!" He stormed out the door, then broke into a sprint, heading to Boober's cave.

In no time he made it to Boober's cave, and frantically slammed his fists against the cave walls in front of the curtains. "Boober! Boober!" He called. Nobody answered.

He pressed an ear against the curtains, and heard Boober's sniffling. He didn't bother knocking again, but he didn't go inside, either.

He took in a deep breath. "Boober, I'm sorry. If I hadn't said anything, Gobo wouldn't have told me off, and Mokey wouldn't have told him off. I could have waited, but I didn't. I'd understand if you didn't want to tell me your secret anymore- but just know that no matter what it is, and no matter how we all feel right now, we love you." He swallowed. "I know I do," he admitted.

He was shocked to see the curtains fly open, and to be caught in a tight hug. It all happened so fast that Wembley couldn't see the tears on Boober's face, but he felt them on his shoulder. Just as quickly, Wembley wrapped his arms around Boober.

"Hey, it's all gonna be okay. I'll betcha by tomorrow we'll all have forgotten about everything that happened today," Wembley said, patting him on the back.

Boober squeezed Wembley tighter. "I love you, too," he said, though he still sounded sad.

Wembley smiled. "Gee, Boober! I love you too, too!"

Boober shook his head. "Yeah, but just in the same way Mokey and Red and Gobo do, right?" he said.

Wembley pulled away from the hug to look at Boober. "What do you mean?" He asked.

Boober kept his hands on Wembley's shoulders and averted his gaze. "Well, it's just that... Come inside and I'll show you," he said, grabbing one of Wembley's hands and guiding him inside.

He sat down on his bed, and Wembley sat next to him. He slowly pulled the poem he wrote from underneath his hat and handed it to Wembley, looking away from him. "Mokey, uhh, taught me about poetry today, and I wrote this for you."

Boober would have missed out on the way Wembley's eyes sparkled and the way he smiled, if Wembley hadn't put a hand over his and said, "Thank you!"

Something about Wembley's reaction made Boober feel braver, enough for him to watch Wembley's face while he read the poem.

With every line it seemed, Wembley only grew more perplexed. He squinted, and read some lines over and over again. Boober began to feel nervous again.

When he was finished, Wembley turned back to Boober and said, "I'm sorry, Boober, I've never been good with poetry. Can you tell me what this means?"

Boober took the paper back from Wembley. "Which part don't you understand?"

Wembley scratched at his head. "Kinda all of it? I'm sorry, it's confusing. You wrote this for me, right? How am I like ink?"

Boober cleared his throat. "Well, ink kinda gets everywhere, and leaves stains. They follow you around and if they're on your clothes, you always know they're there, and you can't stop thinking about them. And sometimes, you just can't wash them out." When he was done explaining, he covered his face with his hat.

He didnt hear Wembley respond, so he peeked out from behind his hat, and couldn't bear what he saw.

Wembley was upset, and wordless.

Boober put his hat down, and reached out to him. Wembley scooted away.

"You think I'm annoying?" He didn't sound offended, just hurt. Boober's heart broke.

"Wembley, no! Not at all! That's not what I meant, I-"

"Then what do you mean?"

Boober couldn't shy away or back out now. It was more important now than ever that Wembley knew how he felt.

"Wembley, I can't get you out of my head! It's like you're with me all the time! I can't stop thinking about you, I like you! I want to be with you, too!"

"I'm with you all the time? That doesn't make sense, we live in different caves."

"You're in my head all the time, is what I meant."

Wembley scooted back towards Boober. "Oh, I get it! And you wanna be with me all the time, too?"

"More than anything!"

A dreamy smile graced Wembley's face as he grabbed one of Boober's hands. "You are!"

Boober's heart threatened to jump right out of his chest. "Do you know what I'm getting at?"

Wembley's gaze peirced right through Boober's hair, as if he could see right into his eyes. Boober felt so strange, no fraggle had ever looked right back at him like that. He felt so vulnerable, so incredibly close to Wembley. He couldn't look away.

"Can I ask a few more questions?" Wembley asked.

Boober nodded. "Of course, go on."

"Can I read the poem again?"

Boober silently handed it back to Wembley, and waited for the next question. This time, Wembley smiled as he read it.

"How are you like parchment?"

"It's what goes with ink. They were kinda made for each other, you know?"

Wembley blushed. "What do you mean when you say you want me written all over you?"

"I want you to be with me all the time. I want other fraggles to know that we just go together."

"You want to be a part of me?"

"I want you to think of me as often and as fondly as I think of you."

Wembley looked back at Boober and squeezed his hand. "You really like me that much?"

"Wembley, I'm in love with you!"

The next thing Boober knew, his back was against his bed and Wembley's arms were wrapped around him.

"I love you, too!"

They both laughed and cried, wondering how long the other felt this way, wondering how long they've gone without saying anything. They didn't feel like they missed out on anything, they felt so young and knew they had so much time to be with each other, written on each other.

Boober felt Wembley's heart beat right against him, at the same rate as his own. He wanted to stay there until they slowed down and synchronized, and until the very next morning.

After a long moment, Wembley opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

He sat up, and Boober shivered. "We should probably answer that," Wembley suggested.

"Ugh, alright," Boober said, getting up and dragging his feet across the floor.

Wembley followed after him, reaching for his hand.

Boober pulled back the curtain, expecting Mokey, and surprised that Gobo and Red were with her.

Mokey noticed they were holding hands. "Gosh, I hope we aren't interrupting anything," she said.

Boober shrugged. "Don't worry about it. What are you all doing here?"

"We came to check on you guys, to see if you're feeling any better," Mokey said.

"Yeah, you've been here quite a while, Red was starting to get worried," Gobo joked.

"Was not!" Red spoke up. "Anyway, we also came to say we were sorry. Your secret is your business, we won't ask about it again."

"We were fighting, but soon we realized that it was all 'cause we were worried about you. We wanted to come here right away, but Mokey wanted us to wait, for some reason," Gobo said.

"You guys were fighting? Oh, it's all my fault, I'm so sorry!" Boober wailed.

"Boober, you weren't even there when we fought! It's our fault!" Red told him. "We're sorry!"

Boober nodded his head. "It's okay."

Mokey smiled and leaned in to whisper something to Boober. Gobo and Red took a step back.

"How'd it go!?" She asked excitedly.

"Really well!" Boober said. "I think we're a thing, now!"

Mokey clasped her hands together. "Aww!" She cooed. "Don't you wanna tell Red and Gobo?"

Boober looked behind Mokey to see Gobo and Red looking a little concerned.

"Sure," he said.

"Gobo, Red! Come here! Boober has great news to tell!" Mokey called to them.

Gobo and Red stepped forward. "What is it?" Red asked.

Boober let go of Wembley's hand to put his arm around his shoulders.

"Mokey called you guys over here so I could tell you, Wembley and I are... well, what would you say we are, Wembley?"

"Fraggles," Wembley answered immediately.

Boober smiled, and thought for a second. "Wembley and I are boyfriends," he said proudly.

Wembley squealed, his tail wagged and he stomped his feet. "We are? We are!" He cheered.

Gobo ruffled Wembley's hair. "Hey, congratulations, little buddy!"

"Good for you guys!" Red said, giving two thumbs up.

"Oh, aren't they adorable?!" Mokey cooed.

"Aw, gee! Thanks, guys!" Wembley said, wrapping an arm around Boober's waist.

"Well," Mokey said, "it's getting kind of late, and Red and I had plans for tonight, so we'll be on our way! Have fun, you guys!"

"See you tomorrow!" Red said, turning around and waving goodbye.

"Wonder what they're up to?" Wembley said quietly.

Boober bit his tongue. "Beats me," he offered.

Gobo snickered. "I'm gonna be heading to bed now, you can stay with Boober as long as you'd like, Wembley. Goodnight, old pals!"

"Thanks, Gobo! See you later!" Wembley called as Gobo walked away.

"Bye, Gobo!" Boober called. He looked at Wembley. "Do you wanna go for our walk, or go back inside?"

Wembley stretched. "Let's go back inside, I'm kinda beat. We can go for a walk tomorrow, it'll be our first date!"

Boober smiled at that. "I can't wait!"

They turned and headed back into Boober's cave.

Boober was trying to head back to his bed, but Wembley stopped in the middle of the room. "Hey, I just remembered something!" He said.

"What is it?" Boober asked.

Wembley walked back towards Boober. He sat down next to him, hesitated, and grabbed both of his hands. He looked at Boober in that strange way of his, somehow meeting his eyes. "I was gonna ask before our friends showed up, and I feel kinda silly asking now, but... can I kiss you?"

Boober's heart rate practically doubled in speed, just at the request. He was scared it might burst if he let Wembley kiss him, but he nodded anyway. "Yes, of course!"

He closed his eyes as Wembley drew nearer to his face, but was surprised when Wembley pressed a simple peck to his cheek. Huh. It was nice, sure, but not nearly what he was expecting. He put a hand to his heart, and found it was steady enough, so as Wembley pulled back, he asked, "Can I kiss you?"

Wembley giggled. "Sure, Boober! It's only fair!"

He put his arms around Wembley's shoulders. "Close your eyes?" He nearly pleaded.

Wembley smiled warmly, and closed his eyes. His tail was swaying side to side, and he couldn't quite figure out what to do with his hands, so he put them in his lap. He couldn't stop smiling, so Boober moved a hand to caress his face.

Wembley finally relaxed his face, and Boober slowly came closer to kiss him. He took a deep breath before finally connecting their lips, but he still felt breathless as soon as he did it.

Wembley pulled back to let him breathe for a moment before kissing him again. It was easier this time, much softer and sweeter.

Wembley wrapped his arms around Boober's neck and moved closer to him until they were laying down again. Wembley broke the kiss to rest his head on Boober's shoulder.

"That was nice," Wembley said.

"It was," Boober agreed. He moved a hand up to play with Wembley's hair. "Do you wanna stay the night or should I walk you home soon?"

Wembley yawned. "I'm too comfortable here," he said. "I think I'll stay."

Boober yawned in return, and gently pulled his scarf off his neck. "You can borrow some pajamas, if you'd like," he offered.

Wembley shook his head. "Thanks, but I'm fine. Too tired to get up," he said.

"Okay," Boober said, pressing a kiss to Wembley's head. "Goodnight, dear."

"Goodnight, honey."