Ratricksy Fic

home is where i want to be (but i guess i'm already there) by welcome2thejam/YoshiHeartsRateFraud
St. Ratrick/Tiphanie, Romance, Mostly Fluff, Ratrick & Tiphanie Talk It Out Already, TW: Kid Laroi mention




All things considered, Ratrick supposed this moment would earn a high seven, possibly low eight. The severe lack of kissing each other right now was surely a point or two deducted, and the drama set to ensue within the next few minutes threatened to tilt the balance either way. But hey, having this soon-to-be crossroads right where it all started for them: besides the Dopesmoker Timeline Exhibit, right underneath the sword-wielding Carly statue they both designed? Poetic cinema.

"I should've guessed this would be just a one night thing to you." Tiphanie paced slightly, pinching her forehead.

"You were fine with it last time."

"I was fine with a lot of things last time! For TK's sake, Charli's streak was still at sixty-two last time we did this." They both took the customary moment of silence to Pray for Charli before continuing. "Besides, when you left that first time, it made sense. We both needed different things."

As they sat back on the statue, Ratrick nodded. Would've been long distance: she had her museum and all her artistic pursuits, they had their mission to preach the way of rates - and with the pilgrimage into indieheads territory on the horizon at the time, they simply couldn't stay in one place.

Tiphanie stared into the night sky, her mind lost in memories. "And every time you'd come back for a weekend, the magic was still there, you know?"

"I remember all of them," Ratrick nodded again. "Every moment with you. Every single all-star's name we carved into the momument, every flop we laughed at, every new reveal site of yours we had to travel to. I even remember PVRIS."

A deep snorting laugh came from Tiphanie, an easy 10 out of 10 sound in Ratrick's eyes, an absolute all-timer.

"And I really am sorry it's been so long. Battling indiefication has been a lot longer and more arduous than we thought. If I wasn't out there, we'd be rating Mac Demarco over Ava Max by now, and popheads rates simply can't stoop to those levels."

With a smile, Tiphanie walked over and gently cupped their face with her hand. "My hero."

They leaned into her touch.

(Touch was robbed in Disco/Funk Revival btw.)

"You know I want nothing more than for you to keep doing what you love, and I know you feel the same about me. But this..." With her hand, she physically turned their gaze onto herself and locked eyes. "Can't keep going on like this. Can't keep dropping everything everytime you're up for a quick fling. And now that I'm focusing so much more on the museum, I can't waste time on something that isn't stable."

Even if they were leaning forward, the weight of the marble Carly statue behind them suddenly seemed to push back.

"You've done so well. The foundations are strong. You can love rates and still step back and focus on other things now." Said "other things" were left unsaid and yet crystal clear. "And our two minds put together? We can do some incredible things here."

"And if I say no? I mean, Tip, I'm the patron saint of rates."

"Then we go our separate ways." She shrugged, "maybe I'll see you another cycle. But in terms of us? You gotta tell me now what we'll be; it's now or never, and I need you to stay. And before you get started," Tiphanie pointed right on their chest, "if I get a whiff of you thinking about Kid Laroi & Justin Bieber I'm walking away right now."

The ultimatum left Ratrick deep in thought. Could they really settle down once and for all? They had always fancied themselves as a Sufjan, with another lover every week. But there was something about Tiphanie, something clicked there. She could meet minds with the best of them, spit facts at a moment's notice - as expected of a museum owner & curator. And on her occasional rate-related work, they meshed perfectly together, as tight as the most perfect pair of co-hosts.

Rates were and will always be their life. But maybe it was time to let something - or somebody - occupy some permanent space in that ol' heart of theirs.

"Still gonna need to travel a lot."

"K."

"Your schedule is so hectic."

"Never did I say you're the only one who needs to step back. I'm sure I could find more than enough room to make some trips myself. As if I'm gonna miss Anime Rate, I voted for that how many times?"

"And I'm still not over your WAP 11, that song didn't deserve to be in TikTok and you know it."

Her face suddenly gave them the biggest "is this bitch kidding right now?" face possible.

Immediately backtracking, Ratrick quickly stumbled out "I'm just saying, this won't be easy."

"Oh? Well, good news for you," Tiphanie said, twirling her finger in Ratrick's long white beard. "I don't do easy. After all, I scored and commented on every single song in Indieheads' 2022 Ultimate last month."

A legitimately stunned look came across their face. "Dear lord, maybe you should be the patron saint of rates instead."

"Maybe I should, but that's not the issue at hand, now is it? So what's the verdict?" She said, wrapping her arms around their shoulders, already reading their mind as usual. "Do I get St. Ratrick's elusive, coveted 11?"

"Guess I can reveal that right now. Drumroll please!" They started to lean in, feeling her fingers tapping lightly on the back of their neck.

But before their lips could meet, her pointer finger suddenly reached up between them.

"Wait wait wait. Not in front of Carly." Pulling back, Tiphanie gave a slight bow to the statue in front of them. "Sorry, Carly." She started walking away.

Ratrick's eyebrow raised. "The hell do you mean, 'not in front of Carly.' She literally put out an album named Kiss."

"Okay okay, it's also that we're in public. And once we get started..."

Oh boy, that got their mind racing.

"Well, come on then." Turning around, Tiphanie sent them a smile sent straight from the rate gods themselves, so bright Ratrick could swear actual beams of light emitted from her face. It was a smile meant only for them, and no 11 win could ever compare.

"What are you waiting for?" she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I've got a mattress from Boulder with your name on it."