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[ the whole situation is making dirk's nerves sing and not in a good way. there's no clawing fingers in his brain anymore, sure, but just the sight of dave injured has sent him into a sense of turmoil--he remembers flashes of different wounds, of dave in bandages, and not remembering how he got them.

it's so easy to carry dave, it's like he weighs nothing still. he may as well still be as small as a toddler. dirk remembers when the time came that he set dave down and never picked him up again was, because that's supposed to be some kind of depressing milestone, but he can't remember that either.

connor talking to dave is a drone in the back of his mind and the only thing keeping him grounded as he walks to the building he and dave live in. it's not far, at least, and it'll only take a couple of minutes to get there.

at this point a normal father would take his son to the hospital, but the fact remains that dirk hasn't trusted them since before dave showed up and he hasn't ever been to one since he was a kid, so it just doesn't occur to him. instead, some guy they both know is fine healing dave up? sure, it may as well happen.

when connor is talking to him, his head turns minutely toward him. ]

Dirk.

[ he can't make people not dave call him bro, that's just weird. ]

Why're you calling me stupid like I fell assbackward into this?

[Because he didn't tell anyone otherwise, probably.

Despite the mild irritation in his voice, he allows Connor to take his hand and lets himself briefly enjoy it until he remembers he's also being carried around like a sack of potatoes. Not even a sack of potatoes. A sack of feathers.

This is, probably, the gayest he's ever looked.

The connection between himself and Connor does feel good and he feels it move through him from his palm and his fingertips. The little ruby on his cheekbone flickers and his body sends some pangs to remind him that he's manna starved and not safe yet. It stops him from ignoring what Connor literally just told him.

He's a little uncomfortable with the positioning between himself and he shifts, unconsciously seeking out what's more likely to generate manna. It's totally not because he just wants a hug deep down in his soul and now he might die so he might as well. He slips his free arm over Bro's shoulder, letting his arm dangle behind him. His legs also hook lightly around him but only because they're both tall and he'd rather not drag his feet on the ground.

Now that he's settled, it's more comfortable but that's a danger in itself. He rests his head on the crook of his shoulder facing away from them, monitoring their surroundings as they pass just to make sure he isn't leading them into a trap. He's idly listening to the conversation but if he's hoping it will engage him enough to stay awake. No such luck.

He amuses himself with the fact that he looks like he's reverse Yoda-ing Bro, which is great because he also feels like a useless puppet right now. He chuckles lowly to himself, laughing at something nobody else is privy to. He speaks under his breath in what he thinks is a voice so quiet it is inaudible. It's definitely audible.]

Yesss. Run. Yesss a jedi's strength flows from the force. Consume you it will. Nothing more will I teach you today.

[That is absolutely the worst Yoda impression anyone has ever head.]

Yeah, 'cause you're the dumbass padawan. I have the high ground, Dave.

[For the record Connor is, at six feet flat, the shortest person involved here. This probably explains a lot about why, in the future, he's just gonna keep hitting on Dirk. He simply doesn't spend a lot of his time feeling short, especially not when all his friends back home are like 5'4" and he towers over them.]

What'd you even do to get yourself messed up like this, huh?

[Dirk's also here. Connor is simply ignoring that because he can only juggle so many things at once and his concern for Dave is taking up all his spoons. That and he's afraid if he focuses too much on anything else, he'll mess up the synchrony they've got going on.

The sapphire in his ear glitters and he fights down the urge to fix it the easiest way he can think of. It's fine. He can do this by holding Dave's hand, by channeling the flow of manna between them to the areas that need it most. Just like regular first aid, really. Nothing weird about it.]

[ one of the greatest pulls of dirk strider is his unreasonable height, it's true. that's his appeal in a nutshell. muscles and height, since he has nothing else going for him. stupid hat. stupid shades. stupid popped collar. stupid puppets. god why does anyone think he's hot. are they blinded by the twunk status? they must be. sean cody my ass.

anyway that's all my thoughts and not dirk's, because he's too busy hoisting dave up against him and holding him up. both of his arms are around him, holding him against his chest, and it's too much like a hug to call it anything else. maybe dave DID die and this is brother issues heaven. ]

That's what I'd like to know, along with who did it.

[ his voice is normally pretty flat, but that statement is just like ice water over the head. this man fully intends to kill whoever did this to dave, even if he has to hunt them down himself.

it's probably pretty jarring, actually.

then dave has to speak and dirk actually lets out a low... it's a huff of air, but dave, if he's cognizant enough, will be able to recognize it as dirk being genuinely amused about something, which happened so rarely back home. in the good moments.

he sighs afterward. ]

Don't give up your day job, kid. That impression isn't taking you anywhere.

[ it's not long before they reach the building and dirk nods toward connor, who is the only one of them with a free arm, to open the door into the interior where they can get to the hallway where he can lead them to his door. ]

Get that for me.

[It is ridiculous of anyone to expect a straight answer out of him on a normal day. Now? The chances are even slimmer. Dave visibly stalls when Bro's arms move around him.

Maybe their chests are close enough for Bro to feel Dave just fucking flatline for a second there. His hand clenches tightly around Connor's for a brief moment before his grip slacks and he lets himself just be in this and not in his head. It's a good thing he's turned away because he needs to suck his bottom lip hard to stop himself from either crying like a gay moron or vomiting profusely.

His eyes do prickle like he's risking at least one of those options so he squeezes them shut, hissing softly like he's still in pain and not because he's trying to stumble blindly through this bizarre, long-standing fantasy come to life.

The fresh douse of ice from that voice is enough of a shock to the system to get him to stop assholing around with his feelings and think about the matter at hand.]

What? Oh. [He wasn't really listening.]

I dunno. He found me on the roof like he knew I'd be there and he called me an imbecile so he's obviously familiar with me. [Ha ha. His voice catches in his throat, which doesn't hurt as much but it does feel raw.]

It was like a grenade or some shit that he threw at me, so I jumped off the roof.

[Like any normal person would.]

Edited (couldn't let that typo slip) 2021-05-23 00:16 (UTC)

[That's a lot to unpack, so Connor's just gonna. Throw away the suitcase and buy new clothes. Dirk can have the anger, the fury over this. Connor will take the concern. It's better for him. Healthier. Damn, Muffet would be proud of him.

Right. Just open the door.

It takes an amount of maneuvering to open the door and hold it open while simultaneously not letting go of Dave's hand but anything's possible with enough determination and flexibility.]

Like I said: stupid boy.

[Connor is technically almost two years younger than Dave going by chronological time but here he's sixth months older and he's just gonna keep saying "boy" until Dave's coherent enough to make him stop.]

[ dirk is good at the anger. at the violence. it's about all he's good at other than being a sex toy weirdo, so that's kind of his entire wheelhouse out in the open. ]

Did they know you from the network? Could you place them from conversations you've had recently?

[ he knows how much time dave spends online.

with the door open he carries dave inside, modulating his pace to let connor keep holding onto dave's hand. when they get to his door he gently props dave's back against the door and digs for his keys in his pocket, unlocking the door and nudging it open so he can get them inside. he kicks the door shut when they're all in, just a straight up donkey kick back into the door. it probably leaves a mark.

he only lets dave down when they reach the couch, settling him on the cushions. ]

[Dave has begrudgingly accepted his role in life as a big, mildly inconvenient bag of groceries and he allows himself to be shifted around.

He grunts when he's set down, partly relieved to be somewhere soft and comfortable and partly a little disappointed to be put down at all.

Dave languishes back and shuts his eyes for a second. Partly because he's exhausted and partly because he doesn't want to have this conversation now or ever.]

Basically, what I know about him from the literal 2 intimate seconds we spent together is that he's big, he likes gas and he talks like a cheesy supervil- Ah, shit.

[He does not elaborate, he just starts up a coughing fit as the realisation hits.]

Fucking science guy.

[Weakly, with a hand over his mouth.]

[Connor settles on the couch next to Dave, already pulling out his phone to do some... gentle... stalking. He's from 2015, it's socially acceptable to stalk people over social media. Everything's public! He knows how to search, okay? If he can find it without much trouble, it's fair game.]

... So Mikhail Caustic?

[Who the fuck uses their actual, real name? On the network? Stranger danger???? Jesus H Christ, he should really offer digital security lessons for the unfortunate. Actually more importantly:]

Did you—you did this shit under your regular-ass username? There's an anonymous function, dipshit.

[ dirk is crouched by the couch when dave starts coughing and he briefly reaches out like he's going to touch him, pauses, and aborts midway.

it's a strange moment since he's been manhandling dave this entire time. ]

Do you need a fucking net nanny? At least troll people anonymously so this shit doesn't happen.

[ he sounds more frustrated than angry, like he's put off by the situation as a whole and not just dave. then he turns his head toward connor slightly, looking at him through the corners of his eyes instead of through the shades. ]

Send me his information. Not right this second, but once we get this sorted out.

[ what could he POSSIBLY want to do with that information. ]

[Out of the corner of his eye, Dave sees Connor stalking and then when he confirms it he just feels peak cringe almost overpowering the discomfort he's currently in. He shifts upward and snatches fruitlessly at the phone, fully expecting he will get absolutely nowhere with this.]

Okay- Firstly. [He swallows.] Firstly. I thought it was obvious I was yanking his chain. Secondly, I thought the worst that would happen is a-- cease and desist letter or something-- and thirdly, I--

[That's about all the mileage his voice has for him, apparently. He sinks back into the couch and presses his mouth into a thin, worried line. Maybe he should just pretend to sleep, which wouldn't be too hard because he's so exhausted he's starting to tremble despite all efforts to look fine. He folds his arms loosely over his chest and looks up at the ceiling as if it is so much more interesting than this conversation.

His foot gently and discreetly nudges Connor but he's not looking at him. It's as good as a warning as he can give because what he'd like to do is put a stop to the cunning plan before Bro does anything stupid on his behalf.]

Edited 2021-05-24 01:39 (UTC)

[It doesn't come up much, because Connor rarely talks about his family, but he has a younger sister and he would murder people for her. She'd be upset about it, but he'd do it. That's the same vibe he's getting out of this: Dirk would murder Mikhail Caustic for Dave and Dave doesn't want that to happen. Well, that's not his problem. He's not Dirk's keeper, even if he's kind of Dave's. Nominally. God, they have to have a weird talk after this don't they?]

Look it up on your own—hey! Hey, what did I say about falling asleep?

[Connor drops his phone onto the couch next to him and turns, one hand settling under Dave's shirt and the other coming up to touch Dave's face. His thumb sweeps across the gem on Dave's cheek, because sometimes you're a sapphire and your inherent need to be weird about touch is being overridden by your need to make sure someone is safe. The angle's weird for touching their foreheads together again, so instead Connor drops his head to rest on Dave's shoulder.]

Do not fucking die on me. That's not allowed.

Fine, I will.

[ he's still crouched there when the mood turns and he watches dave carefully, expression mostly impassive but still tinged with worry like it had been in the alley.

finally, finally, he touches connor's shoulder and straightens. ]

Do what you need to do to save him. I'm going into the other room to get water for him.

[ he'd rather a boy make out with his son than his son die horribly, probably, is what he's going for here. he just doesn't want to stare like a freak while it happens. ]

If he dies... [ a pause. he turns. ] Just don't let it happen.

Not sleeping.

[Just sort of fading in and out of the moment, which is obviously much better. In his mind, he's not dying because he feels relatively calm and not gripped by panic like he was before.

Vaguely, he remembers feeling weirdly calm the first time he died. He dismisses it.

It makes the way his skin prickles eagerly under Connor's hands all the more confusing. Is it a will to live or do Connor's hands just feel good? He doesn't have the brain space to remember the fact that Bro is looming over this moment, he does have the brain space to feel troubled by the fact that he likes this attention from Connor specifically.

He's an asshole. He misses Karkat. This is not how the golden years were meant to go.

The weight of his head on his shoulder does wonders to keep him grounded, even if he feels like his chest is aching so bad he could cry. He still leans in to the touch on his face, his gem is starting to pulsate gently and warmth is starting to creep back into him. He tilts his head against Connor's, semi-hiding in all that hair.

Bro's voice really seems to ring out to him, reminding him that he is in fact here. Here, not dead, watching a dude lying on top of him. Dave glances up at him from over his shades with sort of a helpless look. In his mind he thinks it's something like yeah, I'm gay we can talk about it later but it mostly just looks like he's powerless to the gay whims that are keeping him alive.]

[Dirk leaves, and there's the space of a breath before Connor asks:]

Yes or no?

[It's quiet, because he's aware that they all have very different priorities and well. It's not like he got an actually homophobic vibe off of Dirk, so much as he got a "I prefer if gay happens not in front of me" vibe. Which, like, Dirk's out of the room but Connor's still not going to full-on make out with Dave in Dirk's apartment if that makes Dave uncomfortable. The hand under Dave's shirt slides higher, though, the touch cool even if the intent is clearly not.]

I can probably heal you like this.

[The "it'll just take, like, a really long time" is left unsaid. He's using a lot of manna to do this and it definitely feels like he's being drained faster than he can replenish here, but he doesn't want to pressure Dave into doing anything.]

[It absolutely will make him uncomfortable, but Bro is out of sight out of mind right now. As soon as he leaves the room it's like he dissipated from Dave's memory and so he wonders why he's being asked for consent again.

The pitch of his hum is way higher than he'd like it to be and he juuust slightly arches into the touch like a cat leaning up into a pat. It just feels like sweet relief to his itchy, raw skin.

It's the probably that stands out to him in that. It implies that they could be doing this a while and maybe that's not a bad thing but he weighs his options idly. They could have one quick, hot, heavy make-out session that he will feel terrible about later or they could fondle each other on the couch intimately for upwards of an hour and he'll still probably feel terrible.]

Yes.

[He breathes it out so it's barely audible, but he means it.]

Okay.

[That's quiet too, Connor shifting so he's settled on Dave's lap. The hand on Dave's face shifts, holding him in place as Connor fits their mouths together. It feels like relief, like discordant notes finally falling into line, and this kiss is different from the previous one. It's more demanding, the hand under Dave's shirt sliding farther up even as Connor keeps the barest sliver of space between their bodies.

This is easier, shaping the thing between them until a song swells around them and he can channel that back into Dave. It's different than when he's forcefully shaping music into what he needs, easier to direct the flow where it needs to go and keeps the reins in his own hands.]

[It is frustratingly easy to kiss Connor, again. It doesn't feel weird at all like Dave might have expected it would. All of the things left unsaid can stay left unsaid and remain unaddressed long after this.

The first wave of relief pales in comparison to the one that washes over Dave now. He's grateful for the swell of the music because it muffles the sound of a relieved sigh. Connor is, in more ways than one, a tall fucking drink of water.

Dave reaches up tp slip a hand gently over Connor's neck to rest in his hair, which is a fleeting desire he's had from time to time. He's not much of a participant in it, initially, but as Connor channels power into him he starts to wake up into the moment. He knits his hand into his hair and deepens the kiss, craving more of the contact between them.

It's all a confusing jumble of a genuine connection he feels with Connor and one that is driven by a need and nothing more. The lines blur more and more as it continues, with some urgency in the back of his mind both because he's fighting to keep getting further and further away from death and because he feels aware that there's some reason he wants to keep this brief. Can't imagine why, at this point.

His breathing is less ragged but still urgent when he pulls back, visibly disoriented from the rush of synchrony. He breathes out a name that is very familiar to him and probably only vaguely familiar to Connor.]

Karkat.

[It's so faint, but it sounds so fucking loud to him and the tips of his ears turn pink again as he feels cold, awkward embarrassment tip over him.]

Ah.. Shit. Sorry. [In fairness, he sounds desperately tired.]

[The drum in the background is spaced like a heartbeat, and for space between the first and second beat, Connor is somewhere else. He's sitting on a different couch, late afternoon sun streaming in through a window.

You're so innocent, you know? Pure. Never change, Connor.

The drum sounds again, before cutting off abruptly. He can't let that one play. If he does, it won't stop and he doesn't want—he doesn't need ghosts anymore. Connor breathes out and then shakes his head.]

I save your life and you can't even be assed to remember my name? Rough, schnickelfritz.

[The fact that he actually puts in the effort to make it sound like a joke should feel off. The hand under Dave's shirt retreats as Connor moves his other to brush over Dave's gem again. He doesn't move from where he's settled on Dave's lap, but he does lean back enough that there's room for Jesus between them.]

[There goes any brief hope that he didn't hear that. Doesn't help that Dave immediately went into damage control.

He feels better, physically. Mentally, he feels like an absolute sack of shit for so many reasons.

Connor is hard to get a read on generally. Dave still feels like he just drops mad hints that he mostly misses. Butterfingers. The change in music, however, heavily implies that this was not a pro-gamer move.

He doesn't shy away from the touch to his gem, but he slides his hands up his face with an exasperated noise as soon as Connor pulls back. He pushes his shades up to rest on his forehead, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.]

I'll have a good explanation in three to five business days. [Haha, it's fiiine.]

Thanks, Ceej.

[He meets his eyes to say it, though his expression is meek and his eyes are bleary. What a vision.]

Edited 2021-05-25 22:43 (UTC)

[He runs his finger over Dave's gem again and still makes no move to get off Dave's lap. Intellectually, Connor knows he should. It's weird, Dave's brother is still somewhere in this apartment, and he should get off Dave's lap. Instead, the parts of him ruled by the sapphire keep him there. He wants to—does he? Is that what he wants, or what the gem wants?

Fuck it. It doesn't matter. He just saved Dave's life, and he's earned the right to perch in Dave's lap like a terrible bird if he wants to. Leaning in so his mouth is by Dave's ear, Connor whispers:]

You owe me a punishment later.

[Not right now, for obvious reasons. But the sapphire makes him bold and free enough to say what he wants. In his mind, this falls under "what you need to do to save him." Not this time, but for the future because he doesn't care about Dave? He thinks he doesn't care about Dave, at least, but he also desperately never wants to do this again.]

[ almost on cue, dirk comes back out of the kitchen. he looks at dave and his shoulders slump slightly--it's relief, but whether dave is in the state to notice it is up in the air.

things are confusing when you're a strider.

he sighs though, setting a glass of water down on the coffee table and dropping into a chair across the way and tipping his head back toward the ceiling. that movement makes his hat fall off, but he makes no move to grab it off the floor.

it's funny--he's never worried about dave like this. he always had faith nothing could touch him, but something has (had, after he'd died), and it bothers him.

finally he lifts his head again, shades still firmly in place, and all he says is: ]

Thank you.

[ he's not even being weird about connor perching on dave's lap. the situation is weird, but he's just not being an asshole about it. ]

[Dave is really coming to hate the fact that his gem is simultaneously accessible and in kind of an intimate area for touching. He also hates the fact that he just leans in to the touch every time as if it's instinctive.

Despite the fact that he's well aware Bro is just in the other room, he's kind of glad to still have Connor close. He feels like he'd feel a little empty if he fully pulled away from him.

What he could do without, however, is the fucking whispering. Dave shivers, less able to hide that now that he's still worn out. The redness starts to creep over his neck as he flusters and he presses his lips together in a thin line, pulling back to level a flat look on Connor.]

We'll talk.

[He aims to forget.

He leans even further back as Bro re-enters, trying not to look too hopelessly surprised at his reaction. He remembers the look on his face when he found them, but it's already a vague blur. He feels something flutter in his chest feeling. Well. Kind of special. In a way he's not sure he ever remembers feeling to Bro.]

Yeah. I owe you.

[But he means something, like, normal.]

I think I need to sleep or something.

Drink your water first and then you can sleep.

[Connor kisses Dave's cheek, the one without a Gem, and shifts to sit down next to Dave. It's less because he wants to and more because holding a glass of water for Dave to drink is... a line he doesn't want to cross with Dirk in the room. If they were alone, he probably would've and that's something to turn over until it makes sense later.]

Can he stay here? He shouldn't be by himself.

[I think the guy will come back is the unspoken underlying statement. Connor assumes that Dirk will be able to read between the lines there—if a guy tracks you down and tries to kill you, a single attempt isn't usually where he stops. The mad scientist Dave pissed off is going to be back and Connor would rather it not be while Dave's vulnerable as shit.]

Mm.

[ he doesn't say much, just sits, not really watching what's going on. it's none of his business. was it ever? he doesn't know. his head hurts just thinking about it. his head hurts a lot of the time lately, much like it had for so long before he died, but he hasn't lost any time, which he'd just figured was something normal.

but now he's not losing it at all so was it really normal? he's struggling to maintain as a normal person, though "strider" basically means you're destined to be weird, but...

anyway, those are thoughts for another time. right now, the boy has vacated dave's lap so he can look at them plainly again. at least he doesn't seem viscerally uncomfortable. ]

Oh, he's staying here.

[ there's an air of finality to it; he's not going to listen to any arguments about it. ]

There's room. I can sleep on the couch. I did long enough. I'll need you to keep an eye on him at some point when I run a couple errands, though.

[ yeah, he's gonna go murder that guy. ]

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