and golden pages

Frustrated

Or: Sam likes Max, Max likes Sam, and The Geek Needs to actually get work done, so they need to resolve something stat. 

AKA: The one with the date

I am woefully late in finishing up a long overdue prompt for @thewittyarsonist for Zootopia, which I am hard at work on! But then the opportunity struck for something to give in the meantime, and I had to take it! Based on this absolutely hysterical (and really awesome) piece of art! Check it out. I couldn’t stop laughing. And then one thing led to another and I slipped this 13 page monster out between study sessions. 

For those who don’t know Sam and Max, you probably should. And that’s not advice for story reading. That’s just life advice. Go watch it. Witty got me hooked. So now I’m gonna get you guys on it, too. It’s brilliant. So go watch. 

(The prompt was Frustrated. So Witty, you’re getting the same prompt for this, and then the other for Zootopia! You’re getting it all!) 

(side note, this was impossible to write because if you’ve ever watched the show you’d know that dialogue, among many other things, is fucking insane. But that was part of the fun.)


Sam says “glad to have you around” like it doesn’t mean anything. And maybe it doesn’t. He says everything like that. The weather’s good today. How about those Mets. Intergalactic cheese wranglers have stolen the world’s supply of gouda. Pass the milk.

So when he says “glad to have you around” while he slaps a hand against Max’s back, it hard not to feel…

What’s the word?

Max reaches through his limitless supply of Seussian diction and pulls out “frustrated”, which is as mundane as it gets. But there it is.

Frustrated.

He’s frustrated.

“Whatever you say, Sam,” he chirps, loading the bazooka and flicking the switch in their car to open the sunroof. “Now, you gonna give me a lift, or am I gonna have to vault out’a this car by myself?”

Sam lets go of the wheel and laces his hands together, their car hurtling over the cliff side. Oh, the Geek was going to fucking kill them for this one, but they’d survived worse than a perilous plunge and an angry adolescent. “You sure you wanna go out like this so early? You haven’t even had your coffee!” Granted, their coffee was now somewhere down in the depths of a rock quarry after the third spin. But Sam always packed a french press under the passenger seat in case mid-hurtle cappuccinos were needed.

Still.

It’s stupid and it’s little and they’re flying through the air, spinning around in what is essentially a glorified Campbell’s soup can, but the mundanity of the small show of care leaves Max once more regarding the word frustration with a certain level of ire. And through the smoke and the gasoline he can just catch glimpses of that safe smile and eyes. God, his partner was practically built for trust. So he puts his left foot into Sam’s waiting palms. “Save me a cup.”

Sam nods and grins and shifts for better velocity. “What floor?”

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