Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Touch. Trolls live off of it. They’re known for not being able to go long without any sort of physical contact, whether that involves hugging, holding hands, bumping their shoulders together, or just lingering around each other.

Floyd doesn’t mind it. He isn’t the type to say no to a good hug or a quick nuzzle. Especially if it comes from his brothers. Speaking of which; Floyd finds that, out of all of them, Branch is the least tactile. His brother doesn’t initiate any sort of physical touch, and that leaves Floyd wondering how long their baby brother has been like this, why touch didn’t seem as appealing as it once was.

Branch keeps to himself the majority of the time, and the only times he’s seen accepting any sort of physical affection is with Poppy. It was no surprise, the queen had a way with Branch that no other troll had. There was something she had that the others didn’t, and part of Floyd felt guilty at the fact that he himself didn’t know his brother as much.

The only time Branch had hugged them, is when Floyd was rescued, and since then, the younger troll hadn’t reached out to them much. He still spoke to them, still hung out with them. Hell, they all had practically moved into his bunker, with the exception of Bruce, who went back to Vacay Island to spend time with his family. Though, he still visited every once and a while.

Each of Floyd’s brothers have been very careful around him since his rescue, lingering close by each time he moved, making sure he wasn’t too tired, always on guard in case anything was wrong. If it didn't warm his heart as much as it did, and if it had been anyone else, it could’ve been irritating. But Floyd appreciated the care he received.

Another thing Floyd notes; Branch has crazy reflexes. Any time someone tries to catch him off guard, either to attempt and hug him or touch his hair, he’d somehow be able to move out of the way, as though already aware of their presence before they came into view. A neat little trick, if it didn’t prick at Floyd’s mind so much.

Since when has Branch been so hyper-aware of everything? It worried Floyd, perhaps too much for his own comfort.

The only one that ever manages to sneak up on him is Poppy, and even then. Branch lets his guard down just the slightest bit, only because he’s with friends and family.

Floyd does mental notes at each little thing he notices about his little brother, every reaction, mannerisms, each detail he can see. It felt weird, to finally get to discover more about his brother, to figure out things he should’ve already known years ago. Regret seizes his heart again. He makes a silent promise, to try and make up for lost time, get to actually know who Branch was, what his sibling had become.

It’s around noon when Floyd makes his way to the kitchen, hunger clutching at his stomach, moseying along the hall. Both Bruce and John Dory had left for the day, for different reasons; Bruce mentioned something about needing to help out Brandy, whereas John just needed some fresh air. Clay was most likely around and about, Vive by his side. As per usual, Floyd had no real idea of Branch’s whereabouts.

Yet another thing Floyd notices. Branch was a quiet little shit, whether he meant to or not. Then again, he knew the bunker better than anyone, so it was no surprise there. But even then, Floyd takes note of the fact that Branch had a habit of sneaking away whenever no one was looking. He was like a ghost, able to leave without anyone taking notice of his absence until much later.

Floyd hates the way his stomach turns at the thought of Branch being alone for as long as twenty years. He feels sick, guilty about leaving, mournful of everything he lost, what he could’ve had with his brothers, what they all could’ve had with Branch.

He decides to cast that aside for now. He doubts any of them are ready to have such a deep and intense conversation yet, and even if they tried to, it all depended on Branch and if he even wanted to discuss those things with them. And even in the worst scenario of Branch refusing to forgive them, Floyd would never hold that against him.

There’s an uncomfortable itch in Floyd’s arms, and he wraps them around himself to hopefully get it to tone down, brows knit together. It’s been like that for a while, and he figures it must be due to what happened back in Mount Rageous. That whole ordeal left him with a bit more stuff to deal with.

The fatigue, for starters. His mind would sometimes blur, leaving him dazed and lost. Other times, he’d be scared to death, paws shaking, chest tight and breath short. Not fun. No wonder his brothers always hovered by him, ready to help any time an episode started and the pain began to flare throughout his entire body, leaving him a trembling mess.

Floyd sighs, rubbing his arms, ears twitching in frustration. The itch persists, and he hopes it’ll ebb away as the day progresses.

When he passes a hall, he can’t help the sudden halt, ears now raised. A blur of greyish-blue caught the corner of his eye, and he was sure he was alone in the bunker. He reels back, looking into the room, and he’s surprised at the sight.

Branch is there, putting away what seems to be rations as well as other supplies he continuously collects for his hideout. He works silently, almost zoning out, as though working on autopilot.

Floyd watches him for a moment, contemplating whether or not to join him, perhaps engage in small talk, or just help him tidy up, or just to keep him company. It shouldn’t be this awkward, this difficult to spend time with his brothers, but Floyd finds that the five of them share the same issue. It has been twenty years.

However, Floyd finds that he doesn’t have the time to decide on what to do, because one of Branch’s ears twitch, and the troll looks over his shoulder, spotting his brother at the entrance, and he hums.

“Hey, Floyd.” Branch greets, and he continues with what he’s doing.

Floyd nearly jumps. He hadn’t made that much noise, yet somehow, somehow, Branch heard him. He’d be impressed if that didn’t worry him as much as it did. With a chuckle, Floyd just enters the room. Food can wait.

“Hi.” He says, and he settles on a nearby table, leaning against it so he wouldn’t feel as dazed from standing too long. “I didn't know you’d be here. I thought you were out with the others.”

Branch hums again as he picks up a stack of sticks. He stores them into another rack, one at a time, at a certain pace. Floyd continues to eye him.

“I had some things to get.” He states, and that’s that. Branch glances at Floyd, as if he was observing him, examining him, before he turns to the shelves again. “Are you feeling okay?”

Floyd perks up at the question, and he figures his eyes must tell more than they should. Or perhaps Branch was just that good of an observer. Yet another thing Floyd took notice of; Branch could somehow figure out things a lot quicker than anybody else, and his hunches were more often correct.

“Oh, yeah. I’m good. Just wanted to get something to eat.” Floyd nods, a smile on his face. He watches Branch nod, and Floyd isn’t too sure what to say, what to do. It feels odd, to not know how to approach family, and Floyd loathes it. It shouldn’t be that hard.

The itch grows stronger, and if he could, Floyd would probably scratch at his arms ferociously, to try and get it to stop, to fade away. It’s not uncomfortable, but it sure as hell isn’t pleasant. It annoys him more than anything.

He looks at Branch, and his ears drop slightly. Because Branch just doesn’t look the same. Obviously, twenty years is a long time, and it can change about as much as you’d think in someone. However, Floyd almost doesn’t recognize his own brother. Branch is just so much more different than when they last saw him.

For a start, his fur is grey. Or, it’s a lot less saturated than it was, and that causes anxiety to pool into Floyd’s heart. Because, if he was right, Branch had turned grey. And that alone nearly sends him into a crazed haze.

Another thing, Branch looks tired. A different sort, not like Floyd’s kind of tired. There’s something different in his eyes, a dull light in them, devoid of that spark they once had. It didn’t feel right.

“You know, I can almost hear you thinking.” Branch’s voice causes Floyd to blink.

Branch is putting away some jars now, and Floyd notices that he’s nearly done. He’s a quick worker. Very quick.

“I’m sorry.” Floyd apologizes with a smile, fingers tapping against the wood of the table. He inhales, almost holding it in. His chest slightly tightens, but it doesn’t feel the way it does when a panic attack creeps up on him. “I just zoned out a little.”

“You should go eat.” Branch notes, and yeah, maybe Floyd should go and get something in his stomach.

Perhaps that’d help in quieting down his mind a little and tone down the weird itch under his fur.

With a nod, Floyd hums, and he stares at Branch, watches him stash away his supplies, working meticulously, carefully. And Floyd just doesn’t move, stuck with his gaze glued to his brother, eyeing him intently. Branch doesn’t say anything, as though tuning out the world around him.

Branch’s shoulders are loose, eyes soft and movements relaxed. He doesn’t seem as alert as he usually is, and even his ears don’t twitch around, catching any little sound that may resonate around the bunker or the world above them. And Floyd realizes that Branch has let down his guard, too caught up on what he’s doing to truly pay attention to what’s around him, something he’s never done since they’ve all reunited.

And Floyd finds that he can’t leave him, not now. It’s silly. He’s not actually leaving, not like last time, all he needs is some food. Yet, as he looks at his brother, he can’t bring himself to go, to miss this opportunity, miss this chance, and his entire skin screams at him, as if pleading, longing, urging him to go for it.

With a smile, Floyd moves away from the table, taking careful steps towards his brother.

“Hey. Branch.” He calls out, voice soft. His fur itches a lot more as he approaches the blue troll.

Branch hums out a sound, blinking as he turns to face Floyd.

And Branch stills when arms suddenly wrap around him.

Floyd feels him tense, and he nearly moves away and goes to apologize, but when his entire skin tingles at the contact, he finds that he can’t bring himself to release him. The itch ebbs away slowly, as if finally satiated, and that brings a smile to Floyd’s lips.

His worries are set aside for now, and he basks in the warmth, the comfort this simple hug brings him. He nuzzles into Branch, eyes closing, hugging him closer, tighter, like he’s afraid the troll would disappear from his grasp, fade away somewhere he wouldn’t be able to reach him.

Branch doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and his arms are in the air, unsure where to go, a slight tremor to them. He’s stunned, and Floyd is sure it’s the first time he sees his brother like this.

Floyd’s skin buzzes, a gentle hum, and he breathes out through his nose, a wide beam on his face. He needed this.

Then, after some time, Branch seems to come back, and once he regains control of his body, he squirms out of Floyd’s hold. Floyd allows him, releasing him and meeting his eyes with a grin. Branch looks at him weird, with something in his eyes, like confliction, or perhaps confusion.

Branch clears his throat, and he walks past Floyd, off to go who knows where. Floyd is sure that Branch’s cheeks and ears are flushed, if the darker shade of his skin is anything to go by, and that causes his smile to nearly double in size. He’s unsure of why this simple makes him so jolly, but Floyd doesn’t complain.

“Hold up.” Floyd pipes up quickly, and he reaches for Branch’s hand. He grabs his wrist, though his hold is gentle, and Branch halts at the sudden touch.

Branch only gets to turn around before Floyd’s temple bonks against his own, and he blinks. Floyd leans back, somehow smiling even more than before.

They’re silent, staring at each other, Branch’s wrist still in Floyd’s hold, and they stand there. Not long after, Floyd releases him, and Branch wastes no time in leaving, haste in his steps.

Floyd feels a tingle under his fur, content, soft, all elated. It’s nice, getting to catch his brother off guard for once, get to see color return to his face, watch the way his eyes widen and something sparkles in them. And Floyd stands there for too long, he thinks, but he finds that he doesn’t care.

All that matters to him now is that he needs to make up for lost time, and if he had to tackle Branch into the ground with the biggest bear hug, then so be it, he’d do it in a flash.

Chapter Text

Bruce has to be the next most tactile troll Branch knows. It was no surprise, the troll was a father. Touch was a day to day thing.

Branch and Bruce don’t hang out as much as the others do, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have fun. Well, as much fun as Branch could have, anyways. Not only that, but Bruce almost never missed a chance getting to tease his brother, nudging him or trying to hold him in a necklock. Branch always managed to dodge him.

It was particularly worse when Floyd shared details about recent events in the bunker, and Bruce nearly took it as a challenge. Well, no, he did take it as a challenge.

He just needed to see that look with his own eyes, needed that satisfaction of catching his baby brother off guard. Because he too had noticed Branch’s behaviour, his habits, the little things he’d do, long before Floyd pointed them out. Because yes, they had discussed this before. Whenever Branch wasn’t around, the others took the time to share the things they had taken notice to.

And so, the little game began that way, unbeknownst to Branch.

Bruce was more than happy to join in. No way in hell would he miss something like this.

The two of them are in the restaurant, in Vacay Island, after Branch spoke about wanting to spend some time with his newfound nephews and niece, to get to know them better. The kids, as it turns out, love Branch, gathering around him like baby birds clinging to their mother, voices overlapping due to their excitement. Branch doesn’t seem to mind, although the noise is nearly overwhelming, and Bruce can sympathize with that.

Brandy lingers close, and when the kids get too hyper, she tells them to calm down and allow the poor troll to breathe for a moment.

When an idea pops in Bruce’s head, he can’t help the smug smile that begins to form on his face.

The children listen intently to Branch speak, telling them about his bunker, about his first adventure with Poppy, and it entertains the little Vacaytioners quite well, as they all sit in silence, intently listening to their uncle.

Bruce approaches the group and stands by his brother, his smile still very much present. At some point, one of his kids asks about Poppy, more specifically about Branch’s relation to her. Branch visibly flushes when his nephews and niece begin to question him about the two, how long they’ve been together, just generally trying to get Branch to share more about his partner.

Whether the troll wanted to deny it or not, Branch was easy to fluster. Very easy. Even more so if Poppy was around. Despite his overall aloof behavior, Branch was fairly sensitive, and his brothers were very much aware of that fact.

At some point, the topic of Poppy being queen comes up, and the children are even more curious than ever. They press Branch to share more, how he managed to get with royalty, and even Bruce is curious.

“Yeah, Branch.” Bruce says, wiggling his brows as he jabs his elbow into his brother’s arm. He smiles when Branch sends him a look, though there’s no real venom in his eyes. “Do tell us about you dating the Queen of Pop.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Branch rolls his eyes, and he shifts away when Bruce tries to hit his arm.

“I beg to differ.” Bruce shakes his head with a grin.

“Uncle Branch!” Freddy calls out, and the troll in question visibly perks up at the sudden nickname as he looks over, ears raising.

Now, this causes Bruce’s smile to grow wider, and if it could, it would reach past his ears. Because he’s sure something lit up in Branch’s chest at being called an uncle, an official statement, proof of their family growing wider.

Branch goes to speak with Freddy, and Bruce stares at his brother interacting with his kids, and fondness grows in his heart, bright and intense, and he wishes that he could’ve seen this before, without needing Floyd nearly dying to bring them back together. It’s a bitter thought.

However, the sight before him makes up for it. The kids huddle around Branch yet again, though they don’t overstep his boundaries, and unlike with their father, they don’t play rough with him. Funny enough, they don’t touch Branch, as if knowing he isn’t too fond of it, aware that they shouldn’t push it, and they’re fine with that. Somehow, these children always managed to surprise Bruce even more each day.

Now, Bruce, on the other hand, wouldn’t hold back. He got his brothers back, so forgive him and if he craved some much needed physical affection.

So, he walks forth without much thought, and there’s that shit-eating grin again. Branch doesn’t sense him coming, and he keeps it that way.

Without much of a warning, he wraps an arm around Branch’s shoulders, and he pulls the troll close to him, cheeks squished together. Bruce smiles at the way Branch lets out a noise at the sudden touch, and before he even gets to push his brother off, a paw is shoved into his hair, ruffling it.

“My baby brother’s getting queens now. Quite the man you’ve become.” Bruce teases, and he lets out a guffaw at the way Branch groans, trying to free his hair from his brother’s relentless hand.

The kids all laugh, and Bruce can see Brandy smile somewhere in the background.

“Bruce.” Branch lets out through gritted teeth. Though, he doesn’t sound angry, just annoyed.

“Branch.” Bruce retorts with a grin and he swears he can hear the troll roll his eyes.

It doesn’t take long before Bruce stops messing with his brother’s hair, but his arm remains around Branch’s neck, keeping him close. And it also takes a lot less time before Branch begins to squirm away, ready to put a stop to the side hug.

Before Branch gets to slither away, Bruce is quick to hold him, setting his paw to the back of the younger troll’s head. Branch doesn’t get to bite at him, before their foreheads touch quickly, and that seems to cause Branch to still.

Floyd did it, and Bruce figured he could too. It did sound nice. Felt nice, too.

And Bruce allows Branch to finally pull away, which he gladly does, quickly fixing his hair once he’s freed from his brother’s grasp. His ears and cheeks are several shades darker, and that just causes Bruce to smile even more.

Soon, his kids gather around Branch once more, and questions are quite literally bombarded onto the troll, who tries his best to handle all of the attention. Brandy steps in at some point, all the while with Bruce watching, arms crossed over his chest with the same grin he’s been wearing. The sight warms his heart.

Oh, he’s definitely going to talk to the others about this.

Chapter Text

John Dory is another troll that’s rather tactile, especially with his brothers. Whenever a chance to hug comes around, he doesn’t miss a beat, and his arms wide open the moment he’s given the chance to embrace any of them. It took a while for them to come around, but soon enough, his brothers began to lean into him, accepting his hugs, quick nuzzles and playful shoves.

Well, most of them did. Branch didn’t do touch as much as the others, but that wasn’t new, even if it stung a little.

That doesn’t discourage John though, as he sneaks in as much physical contact with his baby brother as he could. Similar to Bruce, each time Branch bats him away, John Dory wears that wide grin, eyes glimmering. He notices that, although Branch scowls at them, the troll is never truly mad, not entirely repulsed by the contact. John figures it’s just tough, and he understands.

When both Floyd and Bruce mention their own little experiences with Branch, that peaks John’s interest, and without a second thought, he joins the game. It doesn’t help when Branch offers to help him with Rhonda, and that seems to only cause John’s anticipation to spike. In no way would he miss a chance to spend some quality time with his brother, not again.

And so, that’s how they find themselves outside, with Rhonda. It’s just a checkup, to make sure the armadillo is fine and ready to go whenever they need to head out for a ride. Rhonda doesn’t complain, and she allows them full freedom, droning whenever John pats her.

Branch checks into Rhonda’s mouth, and she obliges without making a fuss. She seems to like Branch, and John Dory watches with a smile. He observes his brother as he works, paws careful, precise. The armadillo only purrs, patiently waiting for when the two brothers finally finish. John rubs the side of her face.

They work in silence, with exception of John’s praises to Rhonda whenever she lets out a coo. Branch takes a quick look, before leaning back and allowing the armadillo bus to close her mouth, and she pants not long after, a large dopey smile on her red lips. She looks about ready to lick Branch, but seems to hold back.

“Everything seems fine.” Branch tells John, giving his paws a quick rub. John chuckles as he pats Rhonda.

“See, girl? Your brother Branch’s got everything handled.” He tells the bus, which drones as she pushes her face into John. He hears Branch let out a huff, though he sees the corners of his brother’s mouth curve.

Rhonda steps over, and she carefully nudges Branch’s side. The troll looks at her with a cocked eyebrow, though he quickly smiles when the armadillo attempts to push his hand into her face. With a roll of his eyes, Branch pats her, albeit not with as much energy as John, but it seems to satisfy Rhonda enough.

John watches, and part of him wonders what the little baby he and his brother left would’ve thought of Rhonda. What he would’ve thought of everything, actually. He thinks that he could’ve taken Branch to so many adventures, give the trolling the opportunity to see so much of the world, discover new things, live a decent life.

Although, he figures Branch has already done that.

Without them.

It digs a knife into John Dory’s heart, and he wonders what would’ve happened if Poppy hadn’t been there for Branch when they didn’t. Because Branch got so far only thanks to her. Not his brothers. Even if it should’ve been them instead.

He sighs, and he quickly puts on a grin as he walks over. Branch is still petting Rhonda, stepping back when she takes out her tongue to pant, almost as though he’s afraid of getting licked. Which, fair enough. It didn’t help that no one could tell if Rhonda simply liked someone or wanted them as prey later on. But, with the way she looks at Branch, something tells John she genuinely enjoys his company.

John takes hold of Branch, taking a mental note of the way he stills at the contact, and he pulls him close into a side hug. Their cheeks squish together, and John rubs against his brother, a wide smile on his face.

“Makin’ friends, aren’t we?” He pokes. He laughs when Branch groans, trying to pull away. “Oh, come on. Can’t I get some affection, too?”

Branch grumbles, and finally, he breaks free. His paws smooth down his vest, straightening the leaves, and he sends a dirty look at John.

Again, there’s no real bite to it, and if anything, it only pushes John into wanting to hold him again. But he figures he’s pushed it enough for now.

Rhonda nudges Branch again, and she beams when he pats her cheek with a small smile of his own.

Even though the troll before him is as tall as him now, John Dory can still see, still hear an echo of the trolling who had waited for them to return to him. The little kid wishes he could’ve coddled more, hugged, nuzzled, given the affection and love he deserved and probably longed for. Part of him wondered if it was too late, if it was even worth trying, but another was set on trying to gain Branch’s forgiveness, no matter the means.

They return to Pop Village in silence, and John probably walks too close to Branch’s side, but with everything that happened, and the way his entire being itched to be near his brothers, he couldn’t help but linger close by, as if it brought him some kind of solace, some comfort.

Chapter Text

Clay and Viva are in the trees when they spot Branch. The blue troll wanders in the woods alone, most likely off to gather some more supplies for his bunker, as he usually does whenever he isn't with Poppy or the others. The two creep in through the leaves, as though stalking, and it’s a habit they’ve picked up from living isolated and in fear for so long. Old habits die hard. Although, something told Clay that Branch could somehow resonate with that. Well, no, he was sure Branch would understand them perfectly.

Viva says something about going down there to say hi, and Clay doesn’t turn down the idea. He follows her lead, a hint of glee sparking in his chest at the thought of spending some time with his youngest brother.

The others had told him about their recent approaches with Branch, and the small progress they had made with their baby brother, and Clay wanted in. He may not be the fun one anymore, but he sure enjoyed messing with his brothers. Especially with Branch, when he found out how easy it was to fluster the survivalist.

“Branch!” Viva calls out to the troll, and he turns to watch them swing down the tree they were previously on. They land not far from him, and Viva nearly zaps before Branch, a wide beam on her face. He steps back at the sudden proximity, though he doesn’t look all that shocked. Poppy isn’t that much different from her sister, anyways, and the two are awfully similar. “Good to see you!”

Clay chuckles as he steps forward, standing to Viva’s side. He dusts off his sweater, even if it wasn’t even dirty to begin with. It was a common habit of his, similar to Branch.

“Hey, Viva. Clay.” Branch greets them with something like a small smile.

“What are you doing out here, B?” Clay asks, and he smiles when Viva bounces on her toes next to him.

Branch shrugs as he looks around with half-lidded eyes.

“I figured a light jaunt wouldn’t hurt.” He informs the two, and he seems to avoid eye contact with the way he looks at anything but the trolls standing before him. Then, Branch inhales, and he finally meets their eyes, any hint of hesitance gone in his gaze. A bit odd, but Clay won’t pry. “What about you two?”

“Oh, we just wanted to get some fresh air too!” Viva pipes up. She leans over to gently knock herself against Clay, giggling when he pushes against her in return. “Exploring! You know, the usual!”

With a hum, Branch nods. His arms cross over his chest, something he does a lot. It’s almost as though he’s blocking the world out, pushing it away, forming some sort of barrier between him and what’s around him. He’s almost standoffish, and Clay can’t really hold that against him.

“Is it alright if we hang out with you?” Viva’s voice breaks Clay out of his trance, and he blinks back into the present.

“I don’t mind. Can’t say I’ll be good company, though.” Branch shrugs again.

“Aw, don’t be like that. You’re great company!” The pink troll retorts with a smile, her brows furrowing the slightest.

“Yeah, B.” Clay nods in assent. He’s wearing a smug grin, paws set on his hips. “That’s no way to talk about yourself.”

Branch rolls his eyes at that, but a smile creeps on his face. He shakes his head lightly, and he opens his mouth to most likely bite back something, but he’s cut off when a sudden ping resonates from both his and Viva’s wrists. All of their ears simultaneously perk up at that, and their gazes land on the two bracelets, eyeing them.

Hug time.

Clay looks up at Branch, a devilish smirk taking place, and Viva only snickers next to him. Branch stares him down, and his ears somehow rise higher as his eyes widen the slightest when he realizes his brother’s intention. At that, the blue troll takes a step back, arms up in the air and ready to intercept Clay if he was to try anything.

“Clay.” Branch starts, and he takes another step when Clay approaches him. Viva doesn’t budge, and she decides to sit this one out. Branch’s brows are knit together, and he steps back again when Clay comes forth, hands out and ready to grasp his baby brother. “Clay.”

Branch looks about ready to run off, but he stands his ground, keeping eye contact, as if that would keep Clay from pouncing at him. His ears lower, and Branch almost has a snarl to his lips. Viva only watches, eyes darting between the two brothers, and for once, she stands awfully still, anticipating who will move first.

“Don’t—“ Branch attempts to warn.

“Com’ere!” Clay shouts, and he runs forward, arms wide open.

Almost immediately, Branch takes off, letting out a startled cry, and his brother follows closely behind. Viva barks out a laugh, tapping her feet onto the ground. It’s a funny scene, no doubt. Mad cackles leave Clay as he runs after the youngest, and his guffaws only get worse when Branch screams at him to stop, Clay, I swear—

Surely enough, the chase doesn’t last long and Clay catches up, and he tackles Branch, the two falling into a mess of blue and green. Branch yelps, and Clay only clings to him, laughing all the while. Viva nearly doubles over at that, slapping her knee at the scene before her.

The two brothers fight, or rather, Branch tries to kick Clay off of him, even if the latter only laughs. Clay wraps around his brother, trapping him, and Branch struggles against him, the tips of his ears turning a dark blue.

Viva watches with a genuine smile, rocking on his feet. She looks at Branch’s face, and nowhere in his features can she actually see any sort of venom. He doesn’t dislike this, isn’t entirely repulsed by it, he simply doesn’t know how to handle and accept it.

At some point, Branch manages to free himself, and he gives Clay a kick to the shin, all while the older troll cackles like an idiot. They sit there for a moment, and as Branch dusts off his vest, Clay pulls him in for a forehead bonk. Branch scowls, and he pushes him away, ignoring the way Clay snickers. Viva’s heart warms up at the sight, and she figures she’ll go hug Poppy when she sees her, because the two just ignited that in her. Hugs were contagious.

Later, the three walk back to the village, and every once and a while, Clay pokes and nudges his brother with a smile. From the corner of her eye, Viva sees the edges of Branch’s mouth curl and his cheeks flushing at the sudden affection. She beams, trotting next to them in glee.

Chapter Text

Poppy has a way with Branch that no other troll has. Everyone knows that, even Branch. And Poppy is very much aware of that fact. She had that effect on him, and unlike everyone else, she could turn him into a bashful mess with a single touch. Of course, she never overdid it, and she would never take advantage of his trust.

However, that never stopped her from sneaking in a few loving gestures here and there, and she’d relish in the way his face would warm up and flush, how he’d stammer and his fingers would twitch, avoiding her gaze, hear his little giggle that she adored so much.

The two are in her pod when an itch forms under her fur. It’s almost constant, and she smiles the moment she feels it.

Branch sits on her bed, before he rises to his feet and stretches. She watches him, almost bouncing where she sits. The both of them had been scrapbooking for some time, a little activity they picked up for a while now, and even if Branch didn’t have the same skills as Poppy, he didn’t do half as bad as he’d expect.

“I think I’m done for the day.” Branch mumbles, and he checks up over his paws, taking a close look at his fingers. He flexes them carefully, stretching them. “I should probably go check on the bunker. Make sure my brothers haven’t caused a mess or broken anything.”

Poppy giggles at that, and she pushes aside their supplies, giving her a bit more space to sit comfortably. She nods at his remark. His brothers could be chaotic whenever they wanted to.

“Fair. I mean, who knows, maybe they’re chugging down your supply of sweat as we speak.” Poppy cackles, and Branch rolls his eyes at that.

“Oh, ha-ha.” Branch shakes his head with a smile. He lets out a huff. He looks tired, pensive almost, and Poppy picks up on it with the way her gaze softens. “I’ll just go take a quick look. Shouldn’t take long.”

He goes for the pod’s exit, and the itch in her skin nearly doubles in intensity the moment he turns his back. If he was to leave, she was sure to combust and explode like a glitter bomb.

“Wait, wait!” Poppy calls out to him, and she raises her arms, making grabby hands at him, beckoning him closer. She smiles with all teeth, almost from ear to ear. He eyes her with a cocked brow. “Come here!”

Without much of a fuss, he walks over. He stands by the bed, and when she offers a paw to him, he goes to take it, only for her to yank him into bed again. He lets out a startled gasp, the sound caught in his throat. She gathers him onto her lap, allowing him to sit between her legs and letting his knees wrap around her waist, and before he gets to even question her, she nudges her nose under his chin, nuzzling into his neck. Her paws go to his back, pawing at it, going under his vest and touching his fuzzy skin.

Branch stills instantly, arms frozen in the air, and Poppy can feel the tremor travel through his entire body. She only smiles and rubs her nose into the side of his neck, humming softly.

“You’re so soft.” She purrs, and her skin tingles at the contact, satiated. She feels him shiver, but he doesn’t squirm away, and there’s a sound coming from the back of his throat, almost like an attempt at a hum. She can only picture the look on his face, the blush spreading across his cheeks, up to his ears. She smiles, pushing into his skin, feeling the warmth against her nose. “So warm.”

She sighs in delight, hugging him close, and although he’s tense, his shoulders sag, melting against her. Finally, his arms wrap around her, unsteady hands grabbing at the fabric of her dress.

Poppy nuzzles her face deeper into the crook of his neck, inhaling slowly, and he shudders. She feels his breath near her ear, and it twitches softly, causing her to smile.

Slowly, she moves a paw from his spine and settles it on the back of his head, into his hair, and she beams ever more at the shiver that zaps through him. Not just anyone could touch another troll’s hair, especially not Branch’s. Having that privilege was very dear to Poppy.

Her fingers are gentle, rubbing his scalp, feeling the soft hair, and he lets out a sound, muffled and low. She giggles softly, and she nearly purrs as he rubs her face into his neck, before she moves up to his ear. It twitches at the contact, and it’s oh-so-warm.

For a while, she stays there, nuzzling into his skin, running her paw through his hair and just feeling his warmth, basking in his presence and the way he melts under her touch. Only she gets to witness this side of him, vulnerable and completely bashful.

At some point, he squirms slightly, letting out a small sound in his throat, and she knows that he’s reached his limit. She doesn’t hesitate and pulls back, but not without leaving a quick kiss to his cheek, giggling at how warm his skin is when her lips make contact. She leans back, taking a good look at him.

As expected, his face is flushed, dark blue covering his cheeks, almost going down his jaw. His ears are no better, and his pupils are blown wide, and he nearly looks dazed. She giggles at his state and she raises a hand to rub at his cheek. Branch immediately leans into her paw, almost nuzzling into it, eyes fluttering close.

She coos, and she runs the pad of her thumb under his eye, tracing the old memory of dark bruises he bore. They aren’t as bad as they were before, and they definitely improved over time, especially since Poppy had entered his life. Sometimes they were darker, especially when some nights were particularly hard, and she’d rub and kiss instantly after spotting them.

“Need to check on the bunker.” Branch reminds, voice soft. He almost sounds out of it, and that causes another giggle to escape Poppy.

“Sure, love.” Poppy chuckles, and she leans forward to nuzzle her nose against his. He hums, and his ears drop slowly, melting further into her. If she continues, he won’t be able to leave, undoubtedly bound to be stuck there, putty in her hands.

“Alright, off.” He mumbles, and he blinks his eyes open. She lets out a soft laugh, and she backs away, releasing him.

The blush on his cheeks turns a couple shades darker as he shifts out of her lap, removing his legs from around her waist, and she doesn’t miss the slight tremor in his knees once he stands up. He goes to leave, and she waves at him with a wide beam.

“I love you!” Poppy tells him. She takes notice the way his ears flush even more.

“I love you too.” Branch manages to reply, and he exits the pod.

Once he’s gone, and her pod closes back up, Poppy leans back, laying on her bed with a giggle, all ecstatic and warm. She kicks her feet, and she’s sure to resemble a little girl. Not like she cares. And she can’t help it.

Because as much as she has an effect on Branch, he too does something to her than no other troll does. He manages to flip something in her just by looking at her, and she feels entirely fuzzy and happy and so in love. Every hug feels warm, every kiss is precious to her, and she cherishes any moment she gets to see him all soft and vulnerable in her arms.

It’s a gift to her, and she doubts that she’ll ever get tired of it one day. She could never get tired of him. If anything, it’s not enough. Had she been able to keep him in her arms forever, she could die happy.

With that, she awaits his return, mentally promising to drag him into more hugs and cuddles, needing to just feel him next to her, feel the softness of his fur against hers, hear his heartbeat sync up with hers. She waits patiently, a silly smile on her lips.

Chapter Text

Branch isn’t as fond of physical contact. It’s no secret. The trolls of his village knew better than to push their luck and lay their paws on him. Back then, when he was still grey, he would’ve surely bit them, lashed out at them. He was different now, but his stance didn’t change as much. Not just anyone could touch him, pop his bubble and get into his personal space.

Part of him longs for it though. The child in him begs for it, yearns for someone to just take him into their arms and hold him there, let him relax and just bask in the comfort of the embrace. It sounded appealing, but for some reason, Branch just never allowed himself to give in to those inner pleas. He had gotten so used to it, so used to pushing physical affection away that he’s forgotten what it felt like.

At least, until Poppy came around. He perceived touch a lot differently. For some time, only she could get near him without alarm bells ringing out in his head. He was only ever comfortable with her, and her touch didn’t make his skin burn compared to other trolls.

Poppy’s touch was soft, warm, comforting and pooling with care. Something Branch hadn’t experienced in a long while, and it took him some time to even get used to it. However, there were still some moments where it felt like too much, and even if he loved feeling her against him, his skin screamed out, demanding to be let go.

Perhaps it was due to the twenty years of solitude, or becoming the tribe’s outcast, or his grandmother’s death still lingering around in his mind, or his brothers’ departure. Or it was all of these things at once. Whatever it was, he knew it couldn’t be simple, and some part of him nearly wanted to relapse, go deep into his bunker and never come out, flee the outside world and everyone in it.

But Poppy would never allow that, not without a fight. She’d be there to catch him and bring him back out, step by step, steadying him through it all. That was one of the many reasons he had fallen for her.

Her unyielding passion, her hope for him to improve, her trust and care.

Branch sometimes wasn’t used to it yet, it still felt surreal, and he would oftentimes find himself laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, pondering, wondering, thinking too hard for his own good, leaving him awake at late hours of the night.

Then, his brothers came back, and that was a whole other thing to deal with.

Emotions crashed down on him, like a tornado sweeping him off his feet and throwing him completely off balance. A lot of anger, sorrow, hurt, grief, mirth, relief. Too much at once. But it got better, over time, even if at some point he felt like it wouldn’t. Poppy had been there for him, staying by his side through the entire ordeal. She just wouldn’t stop surprising him.

And then, there was that weird itch that began to creep under his fur. It was constant, and no matter what he did, it wouldn’t cease. Safe to say it made him slightly annoyed. It wasn’t the same burning sensation he would get at times whenever everything became too much. It was different.

It didn’t hurt, didn’t really torment him to the point of falling to his knees, crying and scratching at his skin, silently begging it to stop. It just felt irritating, annoying.

And it didn’t help whenever his brothers or Poppy would touch him; ruffling his hair, hugging him, nuzzling him, holding his hands, those damn forehead touches. It only made the itch grow stronger, and for a moment, he thinks his skin craves for more but he quickly turns down that thought.

He felt weird all over, uncomfortable is an odd way. Everything felt weird.

With a sigh, Branch enters the kitchen, strolling towards the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. Pure black, as he usually took it. Floyd told him that he was mad to take it without any sort of sugar or cream. Branch had simply shrugged. The only one who didn’t silently judge him was John, who could down a cup of black coffee without any sort of issue.

It was almost the evening, and perhaps he was crazy to pour himself a cup of coffee at this hour, but at this exact point, it was the least of his worries. Fatigue clung to him like a bad bug, and he needed some sort of boost before he could finally lay down in bed and get some sleep. He had the bad habit of being the last one asleep, too alert, too active to find rest.

Once his cup is filled, Branch holds it in his paws, and he exhales through his nose, a long breath, allowing the warmth of the coffee to seep into his hands. It grounds him, at least, long enough until the itch takes over his focus, and he can’t help but frown.

He’s noticed that this itch started with Poppy, and only got worse when his brothers came back. He thought about it being a coincidence, that this was just funny timing, but a part of him wondered if there was any sort of correlation. With a shake of his head, he tries not to think too hard about it, and he takes a sip of his drink.

It’s hot against his tongue, and any other troll would’ve flinched and fanned their mouth. But over the years, he’s grown used to the burning sensation, to the point where even that could ground him at times.

With that, he walks out of the kitchen, walking down the halls at a slow pace, sipping at his cup every once and a while.

Branch ponders, as usual. He thinks about his brothers, about Poppy, and the village, about the outside world and how vast it is.

The whole thing with Velvet and Veener was pretty far behind them by now. About a month had passed, and yet, worry still lingered in his chest, seizing at his heart and making it thump against his ribcage. What ifs clouded his mind, and his ears tip down at the thought of anyone coming to harm his family.

He sighs, and he feels the beginning of a headache around his temple, almost like a crown, and he runs a paw over his face. Branch was tired, he felt restless, even more so with that stupid itch under his fur. Nothing really brought his comfort, and for a split second, there’s a terrifying thought in the back of his mind that he’ll turn grey again. Fully grey.

The thought alone scares him, causing a shiver to roll down his spine.

Branch can’t let that happen, no matter what.

Or maybe he was just paranoid. Maybe he just hadn’t fully recovered yet from their latest adventure back at Mount Rageous. His mind had yet to settle, and perhaps it would over the next days or so. He tries to rationalize, be realistic, not get carried away and spiral like he usually would.

And it’s hard. But he’ll pull through, he has to.

Voices catch his ears, which perk up at the noise, and he blinks back to the present. He’s nearing the living area, and that’s when he realizes that he hadn’t seen any of his brothers earlier. Not even Poppy or Viva.

His mind has been hazy lately, and if he wasn’t concentrating on that damned itch, he was too lost in his thoughts to take notice of the world around him.

With a hum, Branch heads to the room, one of his ears twitching as the voices grow louder the closer he gets. He hears John and Poppy, and not long after, someone else pipes up, which he determines to be Clay. That means that they are all together, talking about who knows what, and for a moment, Branch thinks about turning on his heels and going the other way.

And maybe he would’ve. Had he been the same grey troll he was, he would’ve left without a second thought. But right now, he hesitates, and he takes notice of the fact his skin is buzzing, almost shouting at him. He’s curious, wondering what they’re talking about, and he also doesn’t really want to be alone, which is stupid in itself.

So, with a huff, he keeps on walking, and as he previously thought, he hears Floyd, then Viva speaks up, then Bruce, confirming his suspicions. He wonders why they all gathered together, in his bunker out of all places. Not that he didn’t like their presence, but he was sure that there were places far better for slumber parties or just hangouts in general.

He turns a corner, and he’s met with his brothers, Poppy and Viva huddled together. Poppy sits by John Dory, with Viva on her other side. Clay and Floyd sit next to each other, and Bruce is settled by Clay as well. Despite the large room, they’re all nearly squished together, and Branch raises an eyebrow at the sight.

Poppy lets out a guffaw at something John Dory says, and the others follow suit, laughing along with her. They’re talking about their childhood, more specifically Branch and his brothers’ childhood, sharing funny stories when they were still young and carefree and together before the band broke up. It’s slightly bittersweet, and Branch almost leaves.

But he doesn’t.

He watches them talk and snuggle together and just have genuine fun and he can’t bring himself to leave. He holds his cup, and he forgets about the coffee. He just watches them, like he’s some sort of ghost observing living trolls doing normal things. And he feels out of place for a moment, like he’s intruding on something.

None of them have noticed him yet, and it doesn’t surprise him. He had a way of being able to walk around his bunker without anyone hearing him, which led to him scaring the others a few times without meaning to. He was sneaky without him intending to be, but it had its perks.

His skin tingles, and the feeling is loud, intense, but not sharp. Just a bit much, and as he continues to eye his family, it gets worse, doubles in strength. His ears drop back, and he frowns. His fingers twitch around his mug, flexing slightly, and he isn’t too sure what to do from here.

Someone’s laugh knocks him out of his head, and he’s almost startled. Viva throws her head back as she barks out a guffaw, kicking out her feet and slapping her paw on Poppy’s shoulder. The others also laugh, and a few of them give innocent shoves to each other, inciting even more laughter.

Something blooms in Branch’s chest, and he realizes just how much he’s missed out on. How little he got to experience with his brothers, everything they could’ve done together. As he looks at them, he longs to be there, to laugh with them, snuggle and cuddle with each other, act like a normal family.

Well, as normal as they can be, anyways.

The itch comes forth with a vengeance, and he realizes that he’s craving this, craving some sort of physical closeness, and he isn’t too sure what to do with that discovery. He’s yearning from some warmth, needs to feel his family close by so his mind can finally shut up for once. No wonder his brain would short circuit each time someone made contact with his skin.

He lets out a breath, and he figures that the worst that can happen is he gets suffocated under all of them.

Branch walks over, taking one final sip of his drink before setting his cup into a nearby table. When he comes into view, the talking dies down, and soon, all of them look up at him, some with wide eyes, a bit taken aback by his sudden presence.

“Hey, Branch!” Poppy greets him with a bean.

And he can’t help the smile that grows on his face, the warmth in his cheeks. He gives a quick wave, not really trusting his words at the moment. He sends John Dory a look, a silent request for him to scoot over. When John doesn’t get the hint and only looks back at him with a cocked eyebrow, Branch rolls his eyes, and he decides to just dive in.

He walks into this snuggle pile, careful to not step on anyone, and he settles between his eldest brother and Poppy, who both move to allow him to sit down. Once he’s settled, he looks up at the others, and some of them look at him like he’s grown two heads. He furrows his brows, annoyed.

“What?” Branch asks, and he can see Poppy’s wide smile from the corner of his eyes.

It’s Clay that perks up, and he raises his paws in the air, shaking his head.

“Nothing, nothing.” The troll snickers. “We just didn’t take you for the cuddle pile type.”

“I can leave, if you want.” Branch points out, though there’s a clear tease in his voice, and Clay falters, shaking his paws.

“That’s not what I meant!” Clay says, eyes wide.

The rest of the gang break out in laughter, and eventually, Branch joins in.

He stays there, perhaps longer than he normally would’ve, but he finds that he’s comfortable, squished between his family. At some point, Poppy holds one of his paws, squeezing gently, and Branch smiles at her.

John wraps an arm around his shoulders and hugs him, laughing as he does so. Branch doesn’t push him away, and his skin explodes at the touch, tingling softly, like a gentle hum, and he actually melts into it.

The group stays there for what seems like hours, and at some point, Poppy pulls out a scrapbook. They all gather around, squishing together as the pink troll retells her and Branch’s very first adventure.

A paw settles into his hair, ruffling it, and an elbow gently jabs his arm at some point too. Branch allows them, his skin buzzing each time whenever they make contact with him, and he basks in it. He figures this isn’t so bad, and he can get used to it, over time.

He settles his head against Poppy, leaning into her and he listens to her speak, and her voice almost lulls him. He doesn’t talk much, and he just lets himself have this, allowing himself to relax for once.

Branch’s mind is oddly quiet, and his skin feels light, warm, no longer itchy. He doesn’t move much, and he doesn’t struggle whenever someone nuzzles into him or hugs him. The group is squished into a giant cuddle pile, with Branch almost at the center of it.

He doesn’t mind, far from it. Not with the way his body relaxes at the embrace and just fully melts into it. He closes his eyes at some point, and he can’t help the smile when he feels Poppy kiss his cheek, and he internally rolls his eyes when some of his brothers make silly remarks, teasing the two.

He can get used to this.