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—I HATE YOU ALL.
As usual, Shrimpo in the elevator. Little did anybody know that for the past few months, he had been learning how to speak in Spanish secretly.
He keeps loudly complaining until Gigi huffs, tired of him and wanting to mess with him.
—OH C'MON NOW. Shrimpo shut up already, nobody wants to hear you!
He stops on his tracks, staring at her.
—What!? It's true! You're tiring, dude. Can you learn how to not hate something?
Shrimpo glares.
—VETE A LA MIERDA DE UNA VEZ
Everyone at the elevator stayed silent, looking dumbfounded at each other.
—Was that Spanish?
Sprout is the one to ask, too confused, looking around. Soon enough, all the Toons start talking and muttering. Finn smiles at Shrimpo and waves. He only looks away, crossing his arms all the way back up after the run.
That same night, Shrimpo found his way into Finn's room, laying down in that soft bed (it was nice to lay down and not feel prickled by the springs on his own). Wordlessly, he snuggles against his chest, antennae accommodating to the posture.
—When'd you learn Spanish?— Finn asks, softly, caressing his head-tail with his left hand, hugging him with his free arm, not wanting to break the atmosphere.
—Months ago. Wanted to.
His answer, as usual, is short, direct, but his voice is almost a sleepy whisper.
—Oh. That's f-interesting. It sounds like a good language to speak.
—...
Shrimpo looks at him silently, his eyes just saying "I'm about to kill you if you make another pun" but secretly enjoying.
—...
Finn, silent as well, smiles and giggles.
They cuddle, Shrimpo fully laying his head on Finn's chest, who instead of his lifejacket, had work a pajama to bed. One with a shark in it. He won't admit it but Shrimpo likes it.
Even the ridiculous cork he wears to evade spillage of his water looks cute on him. Shrimpo hums, sleepy, fighting against exhaustion so he can spend at least half an hour without screaming and damaging his cords, so he can relax, which is, in his life, a foreign concept.
—I only learnt how to insult.
He's lying through his teeth to Finn, but he can't feel bad when he has some... Dignity to maintain. Or something. He's too tired to make an excuse, even for his own mind.
—Oh. I don't mind. Let's sea...what can you say?
Damned Finn, his smile that has a missing tooth, damn how beautiful he looks under the soft blue of his aquarium themed room.
—Ugh.
He groans and hides his face in Finn's chest.
—Please?
—Uuuuugh!— He complains again with a groan.
—Pretty please with a cherry on top?
—Fine.
He finally caves in, looking at him while his brows furrow.
—I won't understand it but you sound pretty when talking.
He stares at Finn, looking startled, the words burying deep in his soul to make a coffin inside, wanting to rot and spread in it like a tree would, and that way the soil would always be as sweet as them.
—SHUT UP.
Finn can't help but chuckle, smiling at him, his eyes sparkling with honesty.
—It's true, though. You look pretty when you speak in Spanish.
He says, shrugging like it's not a big deal, like he's not making Shrimpo's heart burst with feelings he categorizes as "non-anger".
—FINN.— He warns.
—But you look pretty whenever, so I guess it balances?
Shrimpo stares, his face in a bright orange shade, blushing hard, then gives a few, fake, weak punches to his chest. Finn, of course, isn't wearing the lifejacket, but even so he doesn't take any harm, just chuckling.
—I'M KILLING YOU.
If he squeaked, that's a lie (he did).
Shrimpo caves in after his face goes back to its' colour, sighing, and starts talking hesitantly.
—En realidad sé decir más cosas que insultos.
Finn's looking at him tenderly, with that silly smile he has on his face. The crustacean gives him a soft glance, guarded of his feelings, keeping his heart buried deep inside his chest. He cannot let Finn see it. Specially not when it beats so hard for him.
Shrimpo guides a trembling hand to Finn's cheek, then traces with his fingertips with an uncommon softness that someone such as him shouldn't have. He guides his thumb to Finn's lower lip, rubbing it side to side, way too fondly for whoever Shrimpo is supposed to be.
Finn looks at his eyes, shocked, the mere fact that the toon he's wanted secretly for years is touching him like he's something to yearn for makes his heart do backflips, his water heating (just like his face) and bubbling up. He can't help the nervousness, his stuttering heart. He craves to close the distance and take Shrimpo's lips for himself.
—Me gusta que la gente no entienda lo que digo a veces. Salir del rol unidimensional que me han dado...
Finn smiles warmly, looking at Shrimpo like he hung the stars in the sky. That makes Shrimpo's heart beat faster, so he puts an expression he can control, thanks to the familiarity of the typical frown.
—No tengo que parecer vulnerable pero puedo serlo, supongo...— That's when Shrimpo gives Finn a longing gaze that needs no words to be understood, then mutters something that escapes his mouth. —Ojalá pudiera besarte.
He's mortified, silently begging that Finn doesn't understand Spanish, while hoping, deep inside, that he did.
No reaction. Thankfully he didn't (Shrimpo tries not to think of the twinge of disappointment he feels).
—Sooo, care to let minnow what you said?
—NEVER.
Finn laughs, clearly happy.
—Me gusta el brillo de tus ojos cuando bromeas o cuando hablamos... Que les jodan a todos esos otros imbéciles que no quieren escucharte.
He's smiling at Shrimpo with that face between amazement and admiration.
—Not letting me know even a tide?
—I SAID I HATE THOSE IDIOTS.
At that, Finn starts chuckling again, cleaning a fake tear from his eye.
—Yup, that checks as Shrimpo.
—Bésame de una vez, ¡Joder!
By his tone, Finn thinks it's him, being typically angry Shrimpo, of course not knowing whatever he just said.
—Hahah! You reel-ly don't like them, huh?
Shrimpo groans in frustration, then pulls him in, lips against his.
He's inexperienced, and yet he kisses him. Finn takes a few seconds to recover from the shock. Shrimpo was kissing him.
SHRIMPO was kissing FINN.
He wouldn't like to disappoint him though, so he kisses back, just as inexperienced as Shrimpo is.
But it feels right. It feels like a part of him feels whole. He hopes it feels the same way for Shrimpo. The crustacean pulls away, much to Finn's disappointed. He takes a while to breathe, then reels him in back again.
Another kiss. They're long, with fervor, deprived of any stop, but at the same time chaste enough to feel intimate. Like it's not just an action, but something that took thought until decided to do.
He kisses him again, and again, and again, eventually making the kisses shorter. They're kissing each other until their lips grow sore.
—THAT.
—W-what?— He says, completely flustered, his face tinted in that deep blue that characterized his blush, but not complaining.
—THAT'S WHAT I WAS SAYING PREVIOUSLY. I WANTED TO KISS YOU.
Shrimpo buries his face in Finn's chest again, and once he keeps the caresses and pats coming to his head-tail, he relaxes noticeably.
That night, without further words needed, both slept cuddling up. There's no words needed when looks and actions said it all.