Nickloon: Nickel Needs a Stapler

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In the II/BFDI 2025 Crossover Tour animation, Nickel asks Bomb to grab a stapler from Test Tube. When Bomb doesn't come back, he sends Balloon instead—but not before taking a moment to have some alone time with him.

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Nickel was perched precariously on his bed, one foot planted against the wall and pressing hard on a corner of a poster, the other foot trying its best not to bounce him off the mattress. His tongue poked out slightly in concentration, and his foot flattened the edges of the glossy paper against the wall, hoping—begging—it would just stick. He held it there for a good ten seconds, unmoving, breath held, muscles tense.

Slowly, carefully, he began to ease his foot down, watching the poster like it was a scared animal he didn't want to startle. For a brief, shining moment, it stayed. A triumphant grin curled on his lips—until the poster immediately peeled off and flopped to the bed like a dramatic faint.

His eye twitched.

"UGHHHH!! Why won't it STICK?!" Nickel yelled, voice cracking with sheer indignation as he launched into a frustrated bounce on the bed, knees bouncing, his whole body a little tantrum of rage.

On the small sky-blue couch nestled in the corner of the room, Balloon had been quietly writing in his poetry notebook. One leg was tucked under the other, his pen gliding across the page with practiced rhythm. He'd been sneaking glances at Nickel the entire time, a soft, amused smile tugging at his lips. Ever since they decided to share a room—after the big hotel re-furnishing project—Nickel had been determined to decorate their space and make it feel like theirs. Of course, that included plastering his half of the room with all the posters he could find.

Balloon giggled quietly at the display, but after another round of Nickel groaning into a pillow, he finally took pity on him. With a sigh, he set his notebook and pen down on the little table beside the couch and stood up.

Crossing over to the bed, he climbed up beside his boyfriend and, without a word, gently palmed Nickel's head and scooted him aside like a grumpy cat. "Alright, move. Let someone with hands do it."

Nickel huffed but obeyed.

Balloon grabbed the poster, straightened it, and stuck it firmly to the wall with the blue-tack, pressing down on all the corners and smoothing it with extra care. He stepped back, hands on his hips, proud of himself.

"There. Perfect."

And then it fell. Instantly.

The poster flopped onto the bed again, defying the laws of adhesion with a level of sass that seemed almost personal.

Balloon just stared at it, lips pursed in defeat. Nickel, on the other hand, exploded.

"UGHH I AM GONNA FFFFKKKNNN—!!" Nickel grabbed a pillow and screamed into it, his foot dangerously close to giving the wall a solid kick. "THIS WALL IS A MENACE! THIS STUPID TACK IS TRASH!"

"Maybe the bluetack's too old... or maybe it's the paint," Balloon mumbled thoughtfully, rubbing his chin like a scientist analyzing a failed experiment. "Or maybe the poster's cursed."

At that exact moment, Bomb wandered down the hallway, casually on his way back to his room. The moment he passed Nickel and Balloon's door, the raised voices and chaotic energy practically smacked him in the face. He froze mid-step, wide eyes peeking into the room.

"Uh... w-whats all the sc-screaming?" Bomb asked hesitantly from the doorway, already inching back a little like he wasn't sure if this was a safe space.

Both Nickel and Balloon turned their heads toward him. Balloon flopped back onto the bed with a sigh, arms flared out dramatically.

"Nickel can't get his poster to stick," he explained simply, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement.

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