This pair works and you are wrong if you disagree 3 Obvs this is sort of a Human AU, but regardless, these weird pairings no one thinks of are fucking marvelous and I will write them forever and ever and ever and ever and ever
Disclaimer: I own nothing, regret nothing, and let them forget nothing.
"Talk to her."
Uncle D.K. pushes me forward again, with that really weird grin on his face. I mean, Uncle D.K. always has a super big toothpaste-selling grin pretty much every time he's happy, but it's different this time. This time, I can't tell if he's trying to get me to relax, or if he just thinks it's really funny how pathetic I look.
"I can't," I whine, trying to avert my eyes from the pretty lady by the punch bowl who still doesn't look like she's changed since her last match two days ago. My heart's about to beat out of my chest, like it's thinking "I gotta get away from this moron", and my teeth are close to chattering. I'm on the edge of something or other, but I can't decide what it is. Probably really stupid stuff.
"Yeah you can," Uncle D.K. exists, yanking on my cap playfully, further messing up my shaggy hair. Yeah, thanks for reminding me that I look like I've just burst out of the jungle back home.
"I look hideous," is my next excuse.
"Nah, you look fine," he says, although he looks like a surfer bum who hasn't gotten change in ages. I look up at him, and yep, his tie's strewn about, he's wearing a raggedy tank top, and his shorts look more like a skirt with how big they are on him. I shouldn't be taking fashion advice from this dork. But him looking like a doofus doesn't make me look any less doofy.
Then over there you've got the gorgeous lady of the hour. Long blue hair so infuriatingly perfect as it flows down her back, bold and courageous knight armor on her chest, folksy tunic and classy skirt- hell, she has waist high boots and doesn't look goofy or like she's trying too hard, because this chick is just a natural lady, which suits her well, because she looks like a freakin' hero, and she's just so beautiful that I don't notice that I just spent another minute staring her down like the jungle boy I am.
Nice going, Mowgli.
I remember when it used to be easy. Like, back when I was at home I wasn't, like, a player, but I was confident. Cause why not? Small village, lots of cool people in the Kong clan. Neat chicks, that if you talked to them you could understand because we were all from the same place. That's how I got Dixie. Probably how I lost her too. I still wonder when she left the jungle if it was because she left me, or if I was just some random non-factor.
But Lucina isn't Dixie. She's already gone. She's already from a different world. Lucinas and Dixies shouldn't ever meet, which means Lucinas and Diddys should never in any world meet. And before I can just keep that thought in the world of thoughts I don't need to ever have ever, I'm blurting it out. "She's so much cooler than me," I bellyache. "She's from such a refined world where everything's so classy. And I'm a total doofus."
Uncle D.K. almost looks sad, despite the fact that I couldn't get that grin off his face if I used duct tape to close his lips shut. "Nah, you're too hard on yourself," he insists. "And I know you didn't come to this dance for nothin'."
"I look like it," I reply, straightening out my red tank top. I don't have any fancy clothing, this is as nice as it gets.
"You aren't putting on any airs," he assures me, whatever that means. "You're authentic. I think she'll like that." I still think he's being too nice. Because I don't think there's another person in this entire roster of fighters that is even remotely like me except DK, and even he's all older and mature and stuff. And there's still something that just feels so wrong about this, like we're two puzzle pieces from two different puzzles that won't make anything except a weird disjointed mess. I'm just so not her type, but god I wish I was. I wish I was that cool.
And then a frustrating, nagging fear bursts out of my mouth before I can stop it, which shouldn't surprise anyone that I can't hold my tongue.
"If someone who lived in the Kongo with me didn't wanna stay with me, then there's no way this super regal chick is going to even wanna talk to me."
Dang it, Diddy, you're such a wimp.
Now Uncle D.K. really looks sad, like I just broke his heart with my sadness. But all he says is, "Diddy, if you don't do anything about this feeling, then Dixie's gonna spend the rest of the life being the best woman you ever had. And that's just sad."
I close my eyes so if I start crying I can pretend I'm not. Cause now I'm just thinking of how much I still feel like she should still be here. Still going through the jungle on adventures with me. Still be fighting to save everyone with me. Still be telling me how she feels. Still being the stronger, braver one. Still giving me those little kisses she does right between my eyes like she's comforting me, saying she's still here, until she decided she couldn't anymore. Stopped telling me how she felt like she thought I couldn't help her. Kept her hands to herself. Stayed at home. Got taken over by something I still don't think I understood.
And I just wish I could let it go.
"You know something," he says, and I'm prepared for something deep. But instead he just surprises me. "While you've been over here hemming and hawing, she's probably stolen at least eight different glances at you. And every time you look around, she's jumping back like she just got hit by a water gun."
"I didn't know women like her could get scared," I admit like an idiot, trying to pick my jaw up off the floor.
"Guess you aren't so different after all," Uncle D.K. says in that way that's a little ha-ha-I-was-right but doesn't quite irritate me as much as you should.
I groan, because this is gonna be weird. "Alright, alright, I'll talk to her," I insist. Uncle D.K. smiles, and pushes me forward again. I nearly tumble into a cartwheel trying to get over to her, straightening my hat and trying not to look like the hot mess I feel like, wondering if I'm ever gonna mean anything to her outside of just being a dumb kid.
But I'd rather be a dumb kid than mean nothing to her, so there's that, I guess.
That voice. Oh, gods. I'd tried to distract myself so long that I stopped keeping an eye on him. Foolish woman! In defense mode, I still don't turn towards him, because despite him being right here I still fear for his reaction when he finds out that I've been over here this entire time, just hoping he might notice me. I'm told that's how it works. My expertise is clearly lacking.
He taps my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin, instinctively reaching for the sword I knew I should and shouldn't have worn to this dance. He shouts in shock and jumps away, and I'm honestly impressed at the record speed at which I have already begun to ruin this chance.
"Sorry! Sorry!" I blurt clumsily, removing my hand and trying to catch him. Thank Naga, I haven't scared him off, although he's giving me a very quizzical look, no doubt amplified by the fact that I have now dug my claws into a shoulder that has not vacated the premises.
"I'm really sorry," I repeat.
"No, we're cool," he says, that adorably sincere smile on his face. My hand has yet to leave his shoulder, and he seems at the very least understanding of that. I had hoped for this rendezvous to be a lot more romantic, but he was never the type of guy to don a tuxedo and hold a rose in his teeth, lest he was using his hands to adjust his cap. Strangely enough, I thought I'd always fancy the knight in shining armor (admittedly more as a comrade in battle than a savior) yet here I am falling over myself for the sake of a humble, goofy farmboy from the Kongo Jungle with a heart of gold that I have not shared any more than two words with. Or nine by now, I suppose.
"I'm Diddy," he says. Make that eleven.
As he says his name, he immediately slaps his forehead, as if he'd forgotten his manners. True, I knew his name, but I appreciate the gesture enough to return my own name.
"Lucina," I introduce myself, awkwardly moving my hand from his shoulder to his hand. He takes it, and before I can stop myself, I've shaken the hand of my prospective dance partner.
Lucina, like the fool you are, you continue to amuse the Gods.
Thankfully, he laughs, so at least he's got a sense of humor about things. I don't think I expected anything less; what little I knew about Diddy from the distance I'd all-too-often watch him from (in a way that alarmed me more than it could ever alarm him), he was always laughing, always grinning, always full of energy, always expressive, always so full of life and daring to not inhibit it. Meanwhile, I'm only as open as I am because I haven't a clue on how to utilize restraint.
"You can put it back on my shoulder," he says, smiling. "That was nice."
I tilt my head, not quite expecting this reaction. I mean, yes, he did approach me, despite me being in my fighting attire and completely armed, so I could only scare him away for so long. I'm just baffled as to why he's over here, and I'm baffled as to why my awkward human interaction is remotely charming to him. I don't think I'd ever managed to keep someone's attraction long enough for me to prevent opening my mouth and confusing the daylights out of them. I suppose I held onto the idea that it might work for someone, but it seems just a bit too lucky that it's this someone.
"Are you... sure about this?" I ask.
"Course I am!" he responds, already laughing. His mirth begins to chip away at my defenses, damn him.
I smile back, arching an eyebrow like I would imagine elegant ladies do, but even if it's not, this is how Lucina would. I place my hand on his shoulder where it had flopped like a dead fish earlier, now much more confident, how hungry for control. "You do realize that now we have to dance," I inform him.
"Knew I could get you to dance," he replied, big, goofy, sweet smile on his face.
I don't recall the last time I danced, but I suppose what they say about getting into the motion of things is true. Being the taller of the duo, I led the dance, which I really wouldn't have any other way, because I'm terrified at letting myself fall uncontrollably. He seems surprised, but in an excited way. My hand around his waist, his arm on my back, we dance to the music, and I can feel his nerves jitter through his skin. I wonder how much of a rattlesnake I must feel like in his grasp, but I hope he doesn't let go.
"You're good!" he says, encouraging me. I swear to Naga that I heard him stutter in that sentence, and it just endears me to him more.
"You're not half-bad yourself," I return the sentiment, dipping him in my arms. He gasps, then laughs, almost entirely out of nerves.
"Never thought I'd meet a woman who'd dance with me like that," he says as I lift him up.
I pull him to my chest, unwilling to let the music take him. "Never thought I'd meet a man who would let me dance with him like that."
"I like it," he insists, his words as simple as they need to me.
"I like you," I reply, and this time, it wasn't just an accident, nor was the kiss I stole from him on his neck. I've wasted enough breath, and now I'd just like to be breathless for awhile.
"Daaaaamn," he replies, and I laugh.
Had you given me an array of all of the eligible men in this fighter's tournament, at first I don't think I'd have ever guessed that Diddy would be my dance partner, but now that we're right here, right now, abuzz with kinetic energy, I can't see how it would ever not be like this. Right now, nothing else matters, and that's okay with me. It's nice not to be over-thinking for once.
If this isn't your OTP you are still wrong 3