Chapter Text
By all means, Cosmo was a rather sensitive toon. He was well aware of his proclivity for handling emotional matters; anything from mediating conflicts (which often left him with a shake in the knees), to his feeling responsible for everyone else’s emotional states (usually the driving force behind his compulsive need to intervene- say nothing of the shaky knees); these things would tell a newcomer right away who to approach on a rough day, who to come to for comfort and advice when one needed it.
Though, he figured there were things he was not aware of, things happening outside his periphery to the toons he called his friends. Try as he might, he knew it was inevitable that certain things might slip his attention; be it a clash in personalities, such as with Dandy and Vee, or misunderstandings flying over his head due to his occasional gullibility.
But, in the end, Cosmo tried his hardest to take into account the general emotional palette of his crew of fellow toons. Oftentimes, if he was even slightly worried about someone in particular, he would go out of his way to find a gift to bring them, coupled with a few kind words and compliments thrown their way, before leaving them with his usual offer: “I’m here if you need me, so just let me know, okay?”
It was a lot to keep track of, mentally. It was a lot of physical labor, too: in terms of finding, listening, baking, or taking on additional work to lighten their load. It was a lot, and it was exhausting, but he found the payoff to be not only rewarding, but fulfilling.
It brought him some small sense of pride, knowing he embodied generosity like his creators intended.
He did not feel perfect at it, but he didn’t need to; he was simply happy to yield results as often as he had been. He wasn’t expecting to be a natural- though that seemed a redundant surprise, given his entire existence was designed to fulfill this one purpose.
Perhaps he had lower expectations of himself than he’d realized.
It felt good to be needed.
It felt even better to be wanted.
He’d not admit it to himself in words, but he occasionally recognized a sensation wriggling in the back of his mind: A doubt, or a fear, or a worry that if he became unable to function for whatever reason, that the others might begin to resent him for it. That they may begin to suffer due to his newfound uselessness; the fear that if he, as unwilling as it may hypothetically be, abandoned his friends and their needs, that they might resort to avoiding him; that would then be an expected, mutual abandonment, and he thought to welcome it.
But that fear was baseless. If he became unable to work, Delilah would surely fix him. There’s no instance he could think of in which Delilah would allow a toon to fall into disuse- even Shrimpo served a purpose, of some kind; benefitted the audience, in some way, even if it weren’t immediately apparent how, to most.
That being said, Cosmo would be lying if he claimed Sprout’s protests didn’t tease those fears, just a little bit.
“Seriously, Cos’. You only just started so recently, and you’re already stretched as thin as my handler… Which, by the way, is a bad thing.”
Cosmo suppressed an eye roll, instead sighing curtly and pulling a half-frown at his taller friend. “I’m not ‘stretched thin’. This is just… initiation. Everyone wants to show me something new, and I’m happy to see it.” He gestured vaguely with a towel in hand, before returning to drying dishes.
“Dude, ‘initiation’ is, like, getting you a card and a drink to celebrate the new hire. Their idea of initiation seems to be making you run around like a chicken with its head cut off.”
“Sprout, come on…” Already he was used to the verbal debates that he knew were all too common among those like best friends or siblings. Still, that didn’t make it any less of a drag to try and convince the world’s most stubborn strawberry that he could, in fact, handle doing everyone a little favor or two here and there.
Unsure how to continue, he offered his now-dry glass to Sprout, who filed it away in a cabinet above. Cosmo gestured for him to hand over another from the dishwasher.
A beat passed. After a moment of no wet dish exchange, he looked up to see Sprout watching him.
“What?” He blinked.
Though his expression was unreadable at first, it quickly shifted to something more sympathetic as Sprout pushed off from where he leant against the counter, stepping before Cosmo.
It’s not like Cosmo wasn’t used to the proximity- after all, the toons spent a lot of time around grabby children, and Sprout himself had shown to be quite touchy-feely at times- however, something about this approach gave Cosmo the urge to bow his head, like a child in trouble for talking back. He almost had, before catching himself and shifting his weight from foot to foot.
His gaze gave away his apparent uncertainty, though, as it flickered from Sprout’s face, to the floor, and back to his face again, before settling on the space between them.
Sprout’s eyes remained sympathetic, but his tone was a little more firm than Cosmo had heard before, at least in their conversations one-on-one. “I just don’t want them to expect so much from you. I don’t want this to become the baseline between you and them.”
Cosmo’s voice came out smaller than he meant for it to, and he cursed himself for sounding defensive, rather than reassuring. “It’s- it’s not a ‘me’ versus ‘them’ thing, Sprout. It’s more like a… ‘What can I do for all of us?’ thing. I mean, besides, they do more in return than I’d expect for them to, seeing as I’m the ‘generosity toon’.” He shifted his weight again, hand reaching up to cup his cheek as he spoke. “It’s honestly really sweet… Like, um, when Brightney and I finally met a few days ago, the first thing she thought to do was to let me know she’d keep an eye out for recipe books being added to the library’s catalogue.”
Sprout was entirely unconvinced. “Well, yeah, that’s great, but… What about when even more toons show up? There’s already, what, twelve of us…? Not to mention the kids, their families, and sometimes GD staff needing extra hands.” He let out a small sigh as he leant against the counter once more, this time somewhat boxing Cosmo in against it, demanding his full attention. “I know you’re all about generosity and whatnot, but I’m just trying to nip it in the bud while I still can- I mean, I’m not saying you’re doing a bad thing, Cosmo, but…”
Sprout breathed out before he continued, warmth brushing Cosmo’s face from a short distance. “I don’t want you to end up giving all of yourself away just to please everyone else. We’re all equally important, and part of my job is making sure the division of work is even among the cast.”
Sprout backed off slightly, inching closer to the open dishwasher. Cosmo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding on to, but subtly, so that the other toon wouldn’t notice. “Um… Well, thank you…” He stumbled over his thoughts, unsure if he wanted to concede for the sake of-
Well, damn it. For the sake of pleasing Sprout, and getting the conversation over with.
Cosmo hesitated still, debating on whether to forfeit his stance or argue in favor of his right to juggle various unrelated, minor tasks and chores at the behest of his friends.
Suddenly, Sprout spoke. “Hey, I’m not mad, though,” he retrieved a dish from the washer, offering it to Cosmo. “I don’t want you to think I’m criticizing you. You’re naturally gonna want to help everyone out, I’m just saying it’s my responsibility to make sure you get to relax too… sometimes, at least.”
“Well… do the others… not ask you to do stuff for them?” Cosmo accepted the dish, though he was slow to dry the entire thing, mulling over his experiences the past few months.
“Ehh… no, not really… not anymore. You see, I’m worried that this whole ‘main character’ and ‘side character’ thing is gonna get out of hand, eventually. Like, I don’t want to think we’re capable of it, but with the way us ‘mains’ are favored over the side characters… I don’t know. We get so much attention- and sure, we’re busy and all, but not busy in the same way as you guys have been.” He turned a mug over in his hands idly as he spoke. It was Astro’s mug. “I just think the staff are going to divvy out the workload differently, now that there’s more side character toons working the center, and the mains can focus on… I don’t know… publicity? Activities?”
Cosmo considered his words. “You think they’re asking a lot from me, because we- as side characters- have been given the short end of the stick?”
“Yeah, basically. And you’ve been here the longest out of the six of them, so they’re not gonna know exactly what to do… You know more about how it works here, but you’re also, just… Way more likely to say yes than no, if I’m being honest.”
“Generosity.” Cosmo repeated, voice quiet.
“Yes, but generosity has limits, dude. They’re not allowed to boss you around.”
“They haven’t been, Sprout… It’s mutual!” His tone, outside of his immediate awareness, shifted into something more lighthearted- as if to say ‘Hey, don’t worry! Don’t look at me! Nothing’s wrong!’ A tense smile on his face attempted to appear casual in support of his words.
“These past few weeks I’ve been watching you, it’s always you agreeing to do something for someone else, and I never see them picking up any of your workload. I mean, come on, that’s why I’m washing dishes with you right now.” Sprout held out his hands at either side, gesturing plainly to their task. “Maybe I’ll go and ask someone to take your place?”
“No, Sprout, gosh- It’s really not that serious,” Cosmo shook his head fervently, any attempt at nonchalance left aside at the thought of Sprout embarrassing him further- especially in front of another toon. His mind scrambled between the ‘flattery’ of Sprout’s concern, and the panic he felt at the idea of Sprout taking his stubborn idea too far, or riding this conviction of his for the duration of Cosmo’s time at Gardenview. “If it bothers you so much, I can just go and ask someone myself, I promise…”
“You don’t like to bother other people like that.” Sprout stared dully at him.
Well. When Sam privately mentioned to Cosmo that Sprout 'could be a little much’, they weren’t joking. He’s a tad overbearing. Maybe.
Not that it was a bad thing, of course.
“...You should apply to be a supervisor or something.” Cosmo joked.
Thankfully, this drew out a laugh from the strawberry toon. That alone was enough to reassure Cosmo that they weren’t somehow fighting, or arguing with each other in any capacity worthy of panicking.
Not that he wasn’t not panicking. He sort of was.
It was just… an experience that was a touch newer than he’d had with Sprout so far. He certainly could be a lot, sometimes, but he’d never sounded so firm, or… demanding, before.
‘I don’t want, I don’t want’...
Well, at the very least, he could be one hundred percent certain that Sprout cared a lot about Cosmo’s wellbeing.
And his personal affairs.
“Thank you for being so concerned about me… Um, I guess I didn’t realize if things were leaning more unfair or not, so… I know now, at least!” He offered.
It seems his mind chose to forfeit.
He was only brought to life so recently. He felt he had plenty of time to make up for it, to work on growing a spine and developing his sense of assertiveness. He could forgive himself for giving up this one time.
At that, Sprout seemed to soften up. Cosmo hadn’t realized he was even tense to begin with, but it was noticeable in retrospect now that Sprout’s shoulders had dropped just a smidge, that his expression seemed to lose its edge.
Cosmo guessed he really took his job seriously. Was he always this intense in the television show?
At that moment, the memories seemed hazy. Especially when the two of them were still actively in conversation; as Sprout’s demeanor shifted and loosened, Cosmo too allowed himself to relax somewhat, and Sprout spoke again.
“Don’t worry about thanking me. It’s my job to be concerned about them, but it’s my pleasure to be concerned with you.”
Turned away from him, Cosmo’s smile dropped somewhat. That… didn’t seem fair. Was that fair?
Did Sprout have the right to consider his friends’ needs to be a “job”?
Helping out their friends was always a pleasure for Cosmo, at least…
Sprout seemed to pick up on his reluctance. He spoke, with a sense of urgency: “Ah- I mean… I guess when I say ‘job’, I really mean ‘role’. Like, taking care of everyone is just how it should be for me, y’know? But when it comes to you, specifically… It’s more like a…”
He seemed to fit and remove different words from the sentence in his mind. Cosmo could almost see the gears turning in his head, trying to find a way to make it sound less… bad.
Sprout sighed. “It’s more like… my ‘dream come true’, if I’m being honest…”
Cosmo’s eyebrows flew up, and he studied the other toon intently. Sprout’s face was slightly turned away, but he could see an almost timid expression there; a lip being nibbled for just a brief moment, as if he regretted saying it and then rescinded the regret immediately after. Sprout’s eyes met his own, before being blinked away, back to the dishes at hand. Suddenly, they seemed so very interesting to Sprout.
A light, fluttery laugh escaped Cosmo. This drew Sprout’s attention instantly, a flash of something like fear crossing his face, but Cosmo spoke soon after: “You know, someone told me that apparently you were begging Delilah to make me first, when she announced she was going to start on the side characters earlier this year…”
Sprout crossed his arms, expression somewhat pouty. “Who told you that? Astro?”
“Nuh-uh, Shelly,” he replied.
“Oh, geez.” Sprout rolled his eyes. “Well, of course I was. They’re making it sound like I was being a huge crybaby or something.”
“Still, it’s flattering! It’s nice to know my best friend could hardly live without me here.” Cosmo playfully rolled his eyes, pompously fluffing a bob he didn’t have.
“You laugh, but… Seriously. I didn’t realize how meaningless everything was until you came around. She took her sweet time with you, for sure, but I guess that’s a good thing. Though it felt like… torture.”
“Oh, Sprout, come on…” Cosmo laughed again, though it rang more apprehensively.
“Hey, I’m just sharing my honest feelings. I can’t help it! I was stuck watching your episodes over, and over, and over… I really thought I was gonna go insane if I didn’t get to meet you soon.”
Cosmo hugged himself, dish towel forgotten on the counter nearby. “Makes sense… We are partners, after all.” He shrugged.
“Partners… That just sounds too distant.” Sprout’s reply fell blunt on the conversation, his dark eyes trained on some corner of the room. “They should invent a term for ‘best friends’ that sounds closer. Like… Soul-mates, but platonic…”
Cosmo quirked an eyebrow, though Sprout hadn’t been looking, thankfully. He seems to be in an awfully weird mood today, Cosmo looked him up and down from the side, Did something happen…? Did he always have mood swings? Do I play along with this, or…?
Once again, indecisiveness rested over Cosmo’s shoulders like a vice. His hesitance did not go unnoticed a second time, either, as Sprout finally came to, resuming eye contact- though it had felt a degree hotter with intensity in a way Cosmo couldn’t quite place.
“Uh, Sorry,” Sprout managed. He didn’t say anything more, as a sheepish expression overtook his face, and his body seemed to tense with sudden self-awareness.
“No, no, you’re alright! I was just trying to think of what to say…” Cosmo reassured. “I think… I’m lucky, actually. Really lucky. I mean, not everybody gets a best friend like this… One who advocates for you, or cares about you so much he begged his creator to ‘hurry it up!’” He laughed amicably, “You’re just too sweet for your own good.” He continued hugging himself.
Sprout seemed to damn near melt at his words. Once more, his posture relaxed, and Cosmo felt the tension from earlier had been assuaged.
Eventually, they’d managed to finish the dishes they’d been working on for far too long; but at the end of the day, the conversation had turned from a disorientingly heartfelt argument into something more carefree, a conversation that flowed more easily through Cosmo’s consciousness and didn’t trip him up with anxiety-inducing road bumps.
As long as they were few and far in between, he felt, he could manage conversations like that with Sprout. After all, they were best friends, and he had to get used to his best friend’s quirks.
Eventually, it would become easier, he thought. Exposure and repetition, that’s all they needed.
…
Sprout, on the other hand, had only decided that he’d play the long game from there on out.
It was… risky for him to be honest with Cosmo. No… It was dangerous for him to share his thoughts without heavy filtering, without straining every ounce of what he felt was a kind of mania from its contents, before offering it to Cosmo like a spiked drink.
He simply could not slip up. He did not want Cosmo to think he didn’t care about the other toons like he cared for him, or to think that Sprout would go to uncharted lengths to protect the integrity of Cosmo’s sensitivities.
But… he knew it was true. And he knew it was going to grow more and more obvious over the years, if he didn’t keep himself in check, if he didn’t wrangle his thoughts and feelings back and away from Cosmo like a starving kid in a candy store.
Sometimes, that’s exactly how Sprout felt: Like he would starve to death if he didn’t receive a dose of nourishment from his revered. The nourishment being Cosmo’s attention, maybe a little bit of flattery, because that’s something Cosmo did a lot: Flatter others. He gifted compliments like it was secondary to breathing or eating, and it drove Sprout unnecessarily insane.
After all, he didn’t want any of the other toons to get the wrong idea.
Sprout was playing the long game. He had to. But a natural, frustrating side effect of it was that he had to fend off any unwanted attention from his poor best friend, before someone got too excited and tried their luck with him.
In between midnight bouts of fantasizing and other unspeakable acts of devotion, Sprout contemplated how long he’d have to draw out this game for…
Cosmo seemed far too uncomfortable yet. He wasn’t used to such intensity, he hadn’t experienced enough to allow his already open mind to make room for something as big and heady as Sprout’s feelings for him; It would take some getting used to, to begin with, but Cosmo had also just barely begun his friendships with the other cast members, including Sprout himself; So the introduction of deeply-held, passionate and devoted love obsession admiration was far too soon, the relationship far too fresh for it yet.
But God, how Sprout ached to let it all flow out. Like blood from a wound, blood from a heart which felt too full to ever sit comfortably in his chest; the heart which beat so irregularly from the words coming from Cosmo’s mouth, from the simple, platonic touches shared between best friends in the kitchen, or during a sleepover.
Everyday, Sprout begged his body to listen, to not jump Cosmo with all the affections he’d bottled up inside himself.
Sleepovers were, hands down, the worst.
But also the best, in every way that wasn’t tainted by Sprout’s sick obsession appreciation.