Archive of Our Own ^beta

As the stage lights gradually dimmed and the outro to Bridal Dream echoed out alongside the last of the concertgoers' cheers, Pekora hurried off to the left side of the stage, hopping along rhythmically until she was finally out of sight backstage. Before Marine had joined her onstage for their last number until the concert's finale, she'd performed two prior songs in succession, each of them leading into the next without a break. It was just as exhausting as it had been in practice, but the reward was the satisfaction of knowing her endurance and hard work had carried her through. She felt somewhere between the need to collapse in a pile where she stood from sheer exertion and the urge to jump for joy at her successful performance. So when Marine —who was holding an electrolyte drink in one hand and a paper fan in the other— shuffled toward her from the opposite direction, having exited from the right side of the stage, Pekora's feet were already making the decision for her— she bounded up to her genmate with a call of "Maririn!" and threw her arms around Marine in a rare hug, bending to rest her face on Marine's chest.

"Peko-chan!" Marine blurted after a soft noise of surprise. She straightened her posture a little from the tired slump she'd been in before the hug, but her voice gave away how truly spent she was after the day's choreography— As did the sweat that made Pekora's cheek stick to her skin where it rested in the circular cutout for her cleavage on her frilled costume.

After a short moment of consideration, Pekora almost regretted the friendly, affectionate gesture. She was certain that in the next moment, Marine would make a perverted joke about where her face was currently resting, the moment of companionable celebration would be completely ruined, and Pekora would definitely be forced to smack some sense into her. Any second. She was sure of it. After all, they had just performed an entire song about the concept of Marine trying to force something between them where it clearly didn't exist.

She thought for another brief moment— if Marine tainting the pure, friendly energy of the hug was inevitable anyway, then Pekora figured it would be okay to wait for Marine's lewd comment before she put an end to their physical contact. Even if she didn't want to admit it, it was sort of nice to have these little moments of skinship when Marine wasn't going out of her way to make her uncomfortable.

With her arms still around Marine and her ear pressed to her chest, listening to the steady thump-thump-thump of her heartbeat —which was obviously only as quick as it was from the aftermath of their performance— she waited. Instead of the expected dirty joke, though, she only felt Marine's arms shift. With her hands still burdened with her drink and fan, she moved to rest them at Pekora's shoulder blades.

For a reason she couldn't place, Pekora waited some more.

Mere seconds passed by in what felt something like waiting for the achingly slow dripping of pine tar. Soon, Marine's torso began to convulse just slightly under her before the unmistakable sound of a failed attempt to stifle laughter made Pekora's lips pucker into a frown, her pink cheeks puffing in indignation even where she now stubbornly kept one pressed against Marine's chest.

"The hell even is this?" Marine uttered between bubbling giggles. "Ah, wub-wub! I wub you too, Pekora-chan!"

That was the final straw. Pekora wiggled out of Marine's loose grasp around her— mindful of her drink, but still forceful enough to push her genmate away once they'd separated.

"You—!" Pekora scowled, lifting an arm to punch her lightly on the arm. "Uragh! Shut up! I just got excited that you didn't screw up your choreo like usual, okay-peko?!"

Marine laughed again, this time completely unrestrained. The surge of excitement and affection that had made Pekora initiate the hug melted away as the familiarly nasal sound of Marine's laughing fit amped up in volume. "So awkward!" she wheezed, "Why'd you cling onto me for so long?!"

"I— I expected you to pull away first, bastard!" Pekora huffed. She couldn't exactly tell Marine the truth— putting aside not wanting to expose her expectation of one of Marine's stupid innuendos, she wasn't exactly able to place the reason why she'd decided to let that be her signal to end the embrace in the first place.

Marine seemed to be calming down, finally, but Pekora had had enough embarrassment. As Marine wiped a tear from her eye, Pekora was ready to turn and head for her dressing room to change her costume and prepare for the finale. Before she could take more than a few steps away, however, Marine followed. She put her drink and fan down on a small table beside a few other snacks and drinks intended for Pekora herself, and laid a gloved hand on Pekora's upper arm.

"Wait, wait—" she said, still breathing heavily from the remnants of laughter, and Pekora turned to face her with a sufficiently scornful frown. "I'm sorry, Pekora," she said, and spread her arms wide. "Here..."

Reluctantly, Pekora shuffled forward and allowed Marine to gently wrap her arms around her in a more genuine hug. Unexpectedly, she felt a little flustered— and not just from the teasing. It was kind of odd to be so close to Marine. Pekora wasn't huge on physical contact to begin with, after all. Usually, if the two of them were hugging, it was for fanservice: making viral clips and screencappable moments while a camera was on them. It was part of their jobs as idols and streamers to be physically close to one another; to pose in friendly shows of affection and make the chat erupt with cries of moe! and teetee! It was always pretty normal to be close to Marine until she eventually said something to make it weird, and even that in itself was a normal occurrence that ultimately meant nothing once they were out of the public eye. Pekora let her own hands rest on the small of Marine's back, thinking about how truly uncommon it was for them to be so close in smaller, private moments like the one she found herself in now.

Somehow, it didn't feel like nothing. This hug wasn't to their professional benefit; no one was snapping photos or following them for a backstage interview. Most people around them were other Hololive members preoccupied with getting themselves ready to perform, or other behind-the-scenes workers busily preparing the stage for the next group of girls to head out— no one was paying the pair of them much attention at all. In the middle of a busy stream of people diligently doing their parts to keep the show going, they stood seemingly alone, in each other's arms. Though she'd have recoiled at the thought even just earlier that day, Pekora let her head rest on Marine's shoulder, even nuzzling slightly into the crook of her neck. When she did, she heard Marine heave out a quiet, contented sigh.

"Oh, Pekora," Marine breathed, "You can put your face back into my cleavage at any time, you know."

If Marine ended up even sorer than she should've been for the concert's finale, Pekora was of the opinion that she only brought it upon herself.