"Despite what most people think, Toby didn't follow Clocky around like a lost puppy-dog wanting to be her friend. The truth is they both hated each other at first, and would have frequent fights. After a while, they tolerated each other, then became friends. Then Toby developed a crush on Clockwork, and the rest is history."

"I-I've got a *tic* pro-problem," Toby announced. In the armchair by the fire, Masky looked up from his book.

"We've all got problems, but sure, shoot." Toby sighed and plopped down on the carpet.

"It's Clock-Clockwork," he said after a beat of silence. Masky was instantly on guard.

"She trying to kill you again?" He asked. Toby shook his head, looking miserable.

"No, b-b-but I almost wish she *tic* would," he said. "Definantly preferable to whatever the f-fuck she's doing now." Masky frowned and bookmarked his page.

"Why? What's she doing?" Toby groaned and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes.

"Nothing!" He cried. "She's doing l-literally nothing, and yet *tic* she's still ma-managed to fuck up my concentration!"

"I heard Toby wailing about the unfairness of life, what did I miss?" Hoodie asked as he walked into the room. Masky rolled his eyes as Hoodie perched himself on the arm of his chair.

"Apparently Clockwork has invested in some witchcraft or something," he drawled, before pushing Hoodie off. "Get off my chair, baka." The hooded proxy rolled his eyes, but made himself comfortable on the floor and leaned against Masky's armchair.

"So Clockwork's got witchcraft now?" He asked, the amusment clear in his tone even through the layers of Sigma distorting his voice. "Cool. I'll call up Ally, she'll get a kick outta that-"

"Guys, come on, Cl-Clockwork doesn't have witchcraft," Toby said crossly, then hesitated. "Does she?" Masky snorted.

"Not as far as I'm concerned," he drawled. "But seriously, what's eatin' at you?" Toby sighed.

"I... She's on m-my mind *tic* constantly," he said. "Like, no m-m-matter what I do, I can't stop *tic* th-thinking about her." Hoodie coughed into his elbow, sounding suspiciously like he was saying 'oblivious.' Toby glared at him for a moment before Masky gestured for him to continue.

"It's even *tic* scr-screwing up my work ethic," he said. "Like, yesterday, I was out on a kill, right? And it was going so well! Guts were going everywhere, the police hasn't arrived yet, literally perfect! And then," he hesitated.

"And then sh-she opened *tic* her eyes," he said quietly. "And I kid you not, her eyes were the same c-c-color as Clockwork's. And, and then sud-suddenly all I could see was Clockwork in her position, *tic* and s-suddenly I couldn't kill her anymore." The brunet buried his face in his hands.

"Do you h-have any idea how humiliating that, that is?" He asked, words muffled by his palms. "I had t-to get Jeff to go back and kill her, Jeff of all people, *tic* and all because-" he looked up, betrayal written all over his features. "Hey, you're laugh-laughing at me!"

Found out, Masky and Hoodie dissolved into two twin fits of giggles while Toby watched them with a hurt expression.

"S-sorry," Masky gasped, fighting to keep his laughter in check. "I just-" More laughter. "Think about it Toby, really think about it."

The younger proxy frowned but did the other suggested.

Not two seconds later, his face colored a rather impressive shade of red.

"Oh." He said quietly. Masky snickered into his palm.

"Yeah, 'oh,'" he said. "But relax, we won't tell, will we, Hoodie?" He added, kicking the other proxy's side.

"Ow! Y-yeah, don't worry Toby, 'secret is safe with us," Brian said weakly, rubbing his abused side.

"Did you have to kick me that hard?" He asked in an undertone. Masky shook his head.

"No," he admitted. "I just wanted to." Hoodie glared at his friend.

"Fuck you."

"But wh-what do I do about *tic* it?" Toby interrupted them, panic clear on his features. "Just because I kn-know why she's on my-my mind all the time, d-d-doesn't mean she'll leave! How do I g-get her out of my m-m-mind?" Hoodie hummed.

"You could always ask her out," he said casually, and Toby choked.

"Wh-what?" He stammered, face a brilliant shade of flaming lobster. "Wh-why would I d-do that??" Masky snorted.

"Because that's what one does when one likes someone," he informed the other proxy. "It's elementary, dear Watson." Toby groaned and rubbed his temples.

"I c-can't handle y-y-your references *tic* r-right now Masky!" He hissed. "My br-brain is literally ab-about to explode!" Hoodie wrinkled his nose.

"Ew, sounds messy," he said. "Got dibs on not cleaning it."

"Guuuuuuys please t-take this *tic* seriously," Toby pleaded. Masky sighed, finally taking pity on the younger proxy.

"Honestly Toby, ask her out," he said. "Worst case scenario, she says no. Best case scenario she says yes, and you can stop being so painfully obvious." Toby pinwheeled his arms.

"Uh, n-no," he said. "Worst c-case scenario she says *tic* no and then *tic* I'll h-h-have to change my name and a-and move to th-th-the *tic* arctic and-and-"

"Toby," Masky held up a hand, wordlessly telling the younger proxy to calm down. "Relax. You're overreacting." Toby glared at him.

"N-no I'm not!" He said churlishly, then paused, and seemed to sink in on himself; "O-Ok, maybe I *tic* am." Hoodie sighed.

"Just do it, Toby," he drawled. "You'll regret it if you don't."

The brunet proxy nodded, hands clenched into fists at his sides as he clambered to his feet; "I c-can do this," he muttered under his breath. "I can mcfreaking *tic* do this, I h-have g-got this in th-th-the bag, there's a wh-whole bag, w-waiting to be got- I've *tic* got th-this."

"Got what?"

With a yelp that was not high-pitched at all (because he was a man dammit) Toby spun around on his heel, eyes widening when he came face to face with the very person his conundrum was centered around.

"C-Clockwork?" He squeaked. "I-I, um, *tic* it's n-nothing-"

Clockwork narrowed her eyes. Somewhere along the line Toby had started gnawing on his lower lip- a very telling sign, he only did it when he was extremely nervous.

(It was a bit worrisome though- Toby wouldn't admit it, but Clockwork was 99.999% sure that was how he got the scar on his cheek- he got nervous, and started chewing on something, and only stopped when there was nothing left.)

"Oi. Toby. Relax," she instructed. "Keep that up and you're going to end up biting your lip off."

To demonstrate, she tapped his lower lip, which had already started bleeding. Clockwork stared at the blood on her finger for a minute before wiping it off on Toby's hoody. (AN: I've asked this before but I can't remember is it hoody or hoodie like the name is Hoodie I know that but the article of clothing what do you call that??)

"What were you talking about anyways?" Clockwork asked. "You sounded pretty determined." Toby laughed weakly.

"I'm, uh, just- I've g-g-got a date!" He blurted. "W-with, u-um, th-th-the door!"

Behind him, Masky and Hoodie dissolved into twin fits of laughter, the former of the two banging his fist on the floor as he gasped for air. Meanwhile Clockwork seemed to be in a similar state as the two proxies as Toby slowly but surely flushed a delicate shade of flaming lobster.

"Well, I wish the two of you all the best, but for now would you care to go on a joint kill?" Clockwork asked. "That is, if you can stand to postpone your date with Mr. Door."

Toby flushed a brilliant shade of crimson, but agreed nevertheless.

"Just let me go get my hatchets," he mumbled, then left the room after bumping into the doorframe. (Never let it be said that a flustered Toby has a sense of balance.)

Clockwork followed him soon afterwards, and Hoodie stared at then for a moment before speaking up.

"So how long do you think it'll take before they get together?" Masky hummed.

"I'll give it a week."

"Really? I'd have said two."

"Wanna bet?"

"50$."

"You're on."

(my soul left my body a long time ago take this unfulfilled prompt and do with it what you will and know that this is not the end but just the beginning of a journey down a long twisty road that just barely has light at the end of the tunnel.)