Object show oneshots

3. Candycase - Why don't you talk to each other?

TRASH, WHY ARE YOUR OCS SUCH GOOD BOYS???
I just had to write something about these two, they're my favourite things on this bitch of an earth

Sharpie belongs to Foxgoldest
Candypop and Briefcase belong to Trash_Roll (I keep tagging you in shit eep)
IBOL belongs to The Obvious

"Um... I think I'm starting to really like him. But – he's my best friend, and I don't know how he'll react to that."
IBOL sat back on the grass with a smug look that hinted he'd already guessed long ago plastered across his face as Briefcase gave a scowling blush.
"You know, I always knew there must've been a reason why you were so protective of him." he declared, poking at a daisy with his foot as his frenemy watched a few cotton-bloom clouds skip like uncounted sheep over the sky, which was dyed a rich cornflower blue.
"I wish you'd shut up sometimes."
IBOL looked back to him, winking flirtatiously.
"Nah, you don't. You love me really."
Taking his leg up off the grassy hill, Briefcase booted the white box in the face, knocking him over backwards onto the lawn. The other object yelled, struggling as the lava slowly seeped out of him and choked up on the dew. Curls of fizzing smoke popped up from the molten rock in sulphuric, solidified flames.
"BRIEFCASE, YOU SLUT! HELP ME UP!"
The anger that made the magma smoke a little bit was short-lived however, as IBOL couldn't help but find Briefcase's laughter at his situation funny. The two armless objects were helplessly sniggering when a third person came up behind them, staring in confusion at the predicament.
"What the heck are you guys doing?" he asked, polishing the shining barrel of a rifle that already gleamed the sunlight off in fractured beams. Briefcase turned himself around to respond to the other object, squinting him up and down in the brightness.
"Well, Box of Lava's being a piece of crap as normal. I was telling him something kinda important and he just decides 'oh, you know what would be amazing for me to do right now? Fall the fuck over.' I mean, just because he's better and more confident than he used to be doesn't mean he can fall on his ass."
"You literally kicked me!"
Sharpie didn't bat an eyelid at them as he stroked the oiled cloth up the length of the wood-grain. He was long used to their squabbles.
"Eh. Just make friends again, you've no reason not to. What was it that was troubling you, Briefcase?"
The case's face suddenly dropped, flushing greyly as Sharpie stood expecting his answer. Resisting the blind urge to tell his friend's problem aloud, IBOL bit his lip in concentration, holding in the secret.
"Oh, nothing really."
The tall pen wasn't fooled for a single moment. Looking around on both sides to check nobody was eavesdropping, he leant inwards, whispering as quietly as he could.
"Does it involve a certain sweet blue object?"
Swallowing hard, Briefcase stared away into the misty distance, where the city below stretched away between the watchful eyes of the mountains. A cloud in the shape of a lollipop floated past, not helping his situation.
"Um. You gonna answer him or not?" IBOL asked, tilting his body to the side and rolling it upright, sloshing the remaining lava on the rim back inside.
"Ok. Yeah, it is. I feel as if I can trust you not to tell anyone, but I really – I really like Candypop. Please don't tell him that though."
Although he was still fixated on the crumbling hills, Briefcase could sense the knowing eye-contact between Sharpie and IBOL. Was it really that obvious, or unsurprising? Had he really been unsubtle, or just deluded about his pretences?
"Woah, ok. I think it would be best to talk to him about it, because the problem isn't gonna go away until you have closure."
The marker pen didn't seem judgemental of him and his concerns appeared genuine, so Briefcase decided to suck in his mild pain and smile almost bitterly. IBOL nudged his side softly in express his support too as the three of them gazed hollowly at the sweeping views below the hill. Briefcase decided not to speak, not thinking anything worth hearing would have been able to emerge. A leaf smacked into the side of his case, causing him to sigh in fed-up indifference.
"Yeah. I need to do something about this. Even if it's just talking to him about it as a friend, I need to know. I want him to know."
"That's it, that's the attitude. I think I saw Candypop at the garage last, his motorbike had a thing..."
"An accident." Sharpie corrected, as IBOL sat fumbling over words that could possibly describe what he meant to say. Briefcase rolled his eyes at them and stepped up to his feet, making his way over past the fruit trees laden with lacy spring blossoms.
"See you both later."
"Good luck!"

Candypop wrenched the bathroom plunger with all his might, tugging the crumpled metal front of the cycle outwards from its dent, uncreasing it around the sides. Smiling at his hard work, he felt his body shudder all of a sudden, as he threw the item down as hard as his muscles would allow. His proud grin descending into an annoyed grunt, he slapped his knee, twitching as he leant down to reclaim the fallen object.
"FUCK-ing SHIT. My plunger."
Grabbing the handle, he swung it sharply round with his arm; almost akin to a knight wielding a sword. The garage hatch began to fold back painfully slowly just then.
"Who is it? Do you – CRAP! – need some FUCKing help?"
"If you're not too busy."
Recognising the voice of his best friend, Candypop beamed in happiness, setting aside his tool and pelting eagerly over to the hatch, where he could see Briefcase wrestling the metal screen upwards with a leg.
"I'm sorry, I've been – LIMB! – meaning to mAKE that door more FUCKING! – accessible for armless objects, but other stuff came up..." he apologised, scrolling the garage hatch upwards and letting the strain off Briefcase's leg.
"You'd better do that pretty soon, ableist."
Candypop giggled, smacking the side of his stick forcefully, but only the essence of pain darted across his expression.
"Anyway, you – FUCK! PAINT! – need me for anything in particular?"
Briefcase averted his eyes to the rough concrete of the garage floor, concentrating on a dark patch with a rainbow sheen that shimmered slightly under the tank of Candypop's beloved bike. He scuffed his foot awkwardly and changed the topic.
"Your bike's oil tank is dripping."
"SHIT! FUCK! Really?"
The food item was startled into action all of a sudden, rushing to the aid of the sleek black vehicle, running his fingers around the saddle lovingly and muttering, half due to ticks, half to worry. Briefcase sidled forwards curiously as Candypop took a wrench from the toolbox next to him and bent down to tinker with the underneath of the vehicle.
"So... how does it look?"
Candypop didn't look up from where he knelt, busily cranking away at some unseen nut or bolt.
"What was it you came here to say?"
"What?"
"What did – OIL! – you want to say to me?"
Anxiousness rising in his throat, Briefcase sighed deeply. He should've known his friend would see right through him. He was so intelligent and observant...
"I – well. I guess I really love you and all."
"Aw. Love you too."
The spanner clattered off a few metres away as Candypop's arm twitched violently. He swore, though whether that was due to a tick or not wasn't apparent.
"How - how though?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"How do you love me?"
The wrench trembled in the air as Candypop's fist tightened. He didn't think of moving as he took in the question, slowly digesting it as he stood there.
"Oh, well... that's a dif-FUCK!-cult question to answer."
Briefcase could hardly bear the thick silence of staring at the back of Candypop's head, almost able to hear the words running through his head. After a while, he turned around in confusion, batting one eye as he snapped his fingers repeatedly.
"So, let me SHIT! this straight. You FUCKing want to know if I - BIKE! - like you... but why? Do - do you..."
He tapered out before he could finish the sentence, but both of them knew exactly what he meant by that. Briefcase forced himself into a nod before the tears came running down, obscuring everything around.
"I-I'm so sorry!"
"NO! Please, don't be! I don't - TEARS! - mind at all!"
Briefcase felt two arms squeeze around him as tightly as possible, lifting him up with surprising strength into Candypop's lap. Still sobbing uncontrollably, he settled into the warm embrace of his crush, feeling the two hands caress the lines of his body, occasionally twitching.
"I j-just hope I haven't ruined our f-friendship."
"No, you HAven't, I'm so glad you told me if it was bothering you - FRIEND!"
Briefcase smiled for a second through the teardrops, as Candypop stroked a bead of water from his cheek.
"This is why I love you. You're so s-supportive."
"I FUCKING love me too."
The two of them laughed like normal: nothing had changed. Nothing... maybe it was better that nothing had happened. Briefcase could never have afforded to lose Candypop because of something as silly as a relationship. The story suddenly ended, folding into an origami flower of a close, because Green doesn't fucking know how to end a oneshot.