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[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. ]

[Dave breathes out an irritated noise that lets both of them know he's not overly fond of being fussed over to this extent. The fact that he doesn't follow it up with any arguments suggests that he might know he's not going to get anywhere.

He drinks slowly, feeling deeply uncomfortable with the idea of staying here and sleeping in Bro's bed. There's no heterosexual, platonic way to ask Connor if he'd stay and sleep there too. There's also a lingering concern that while Connor is capable, he'd probably be way more susceptible to an attack and he doesn't want to live with that. Bro is another kettle of fish.

So, he just steels himself to the fact that it's happening whether he likes it or not.

He hasn't noticed that he's uncommonly quiet about it all. Even if he is recovering from near-death it isn't like him to just tiredly accept things without making a remark. By the time it's all arranged, the glass is empty.]

Okay, I'm done.

[He was going to, like. Go. Ghost. Pretend all of this never happened. Except Dirk's not so subtly asking him to stick around, or at least come back, and he doesn't... He doesn't want to go? It feels wrong to leave, somehow. This isn't his responsibility, but it feels like his responsibility. A little bit, anyway.]

I can stay while you run some errands. [He's pretty sure the errand is murder, but.] I don't work today.

[Sometimes, his boss just tells him to go home and stay home. Apparently "yes, I will work an unhealthy amount" is... frowned upon when you're a Gembonded. The job is how he pays the rent, frequently ignoring the government text messages about "you should probably go hook up with someone so we can pay you."

Connor shifts on the couch, bringing his leg in contact with Dave's.]

[ dirk takes the glass from dave when he's finished and just sets it down, then hesitates and runs a hand over his hair lightly before standing. he retrieves his hat and puts it back on, then disappears into another room to do... something.

that something is in fact to equip a sword (he stuffs it in his sylladex, he doesn't want to get stopped by the cops for carrying around a goddamn katana) and grab... a gas mask? why does he HAVE a gas mask? you know what, sure, dirk strider owns a gas mask. why not. he's holding onto the strapping with two fingers and letting it dangle behind his shoulder as he moves, and he pauses when he comes back into the living room. ]

Lock the door after me. Can you get him into the bed or should I carry him? No arguing, Dave.

[The combination of leg to leg contact with Connor and the hand over his hair is extremely, albeit briefly placating for Dave. Probably because it's not just any hand but Bro's hand and he probably would have done any number of things for a pat on the head when he was a kid.

Now it's annoying because it makes him feel like a kid but he still doesn't hate the reassurance he gets from it.

When he leaves, Dave just shrugs at Connor like it's normal for Bro to just dip before they've finished a conversation. He lets himself lean lightly into Connor. Not quite deadweight on him but not fully supporting himself. It's totally not an excuse for closeness which doesn't last when Bro comes back in the room.]

Woah, woah-- [Dave pushes himself up off the couch, he teeters a little but he finds his footing. His voice is still raspy like he's been fighting off a persistent chest infection.]

I think the fuck not. Where are you going? You don't both get to act like I'm an idiot for getting clowned on by a crazy guy and then go after him like it's nothing. [He clears his throat.] That's stupid.

We'll be fine. Have fun on your errands.

[Connor catches Dave's wrist and very gently but firmly tugs on it to try and get Dave to sit the fuck back down. He doesn't mention the gas mask or Dave's muttering about retribution because it's whatever. At worst, the guy actually dies. At best, he dies but comes back as is usual in these situations. Most likely there's just gonna be a fight and someone will get stabbed but then somebody calls the cops and the message has been sent so whatever. In which case, hopefully he'll learn the lesson and not randomly gas people in the future, even if they did troll him.

Dirk can have little a retribution, as a treat, as far as Connor's concerned. If a guy's running around gassing people over every little thing he had to have done something to actually deserve getting a tiny bit murdered. You can just run around committing crimes like it's GTA and you're Tommy Vercetti or whatever.]

Never claimed to be smart. I ain't gonna let him get away with it, that's just rollin' over.

[ it's something strange, to hear the twang coming out of him. it's rough and a little low, and odd for a man who consciously evens his voice to be as un-accented as possible. he says this to dave. then he turns to connor and nods, going to the door and pausing in the threshold. ]

Remember what I said, and don't answer the fuckin' door for anyone. I don't care if it's a goddamn gem scout or whatever passes for girl scouts out here.

[ and then, he goes. the door clicks shut quietly behind him. ]

Oh hell no.

[Don't you fucking twang at him you Southern Asshole. It just makes him more nostalgic and more scared of losing Bro again.]

That's bullshit. [Dave says to both Connor and Bro but it doesn't take much more than a wrist tug to get him to thud back down on the couch. He watches Bro leave, bitterly. Frowning as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees to make it less apparent that his legs are jostling nervously under him.

He's very clearly sulking but damn if he's ever going to address ANY of this.]

I have a natural aversion to girl scouts and also girls.

[That's not true. His sexuality is a little bit like his personal conception of gender: decline to answer, but fluid. Part of him just likes reminding people he's into men constantly and loudly. It's cathartic or whatever. Connor trails after Dirk, when he goes, locking the door as requested before turning back to Dave. He watches for a moment before walking back over.]

Hey. Come take a nap with me?

[That's probably weird, given that this is Dave's brother's apartment, but also Dave needs to take a nap and Connor needs to, uh. Sleep? So he can have his spell slots back. He has a feeling he might need them whenever Dirk comes back.]

[Briefly, Dave feels like he might be irritated enough to get snappy in response. He pulls a face like he's got something to say but the expression falls back to the same, tired look.]

Sounds good.

[If he pretends they're not here, anyway. He pushes himself up from the couch and although he finds he needs to brace on the arm of it for a second he feels largely capable of walking if not a bit disoriented.

He looks around before starting to shuffle toward the bedroom, arms folded loosely over his chest.]

[Connor trails behind Dave, ready to catch him if he falls but mostly letting him have his independence otherwise. He gets the sense that even if Dave needs someone to take care of him, which apparently 2/2 older brothers agree on, he doesn't want to need it. It reminds him of being quietly asked if he had any friends. The hesitant and uncertain way he said Tim is my friend, because he didn't want to lie but he also didn't want to say that he's never really had friends. He thought he didn't need them, until...

he was he was
everything i'm not, my whole universe
when i was a footnote, a slim second verse—

Don't think about that, actually.]

On account of you're the idiot who trolls under his own name, you get to be little spoon.

Edited 2021-05-30 10:59 (UTC)

[Dave is absolutely the strangest combination of fiercely independent and so incredibly hopeless that you can't help intervening. He is blithely unaware of how he's perceived although he does assume it's very apparent he wasn't raised right.

He drags his fingertips over the wall as he walks, it's not surprising that he should be a little tense in this moment but as they circle into Bro's room he seems so distracted by it that he barely hears Connor. In fact, he doesn't respond for a noticeable amount of time as hesitates in the doorway and then steps into the room to perch very, very awkwardly on the foot of the bed.

Oh right, Connor said something. What did he say? Too late. Just laugh.

He feigns a laugh, way after Connor initially spoke and just marinates himself in how he feels right now. Kind of nauseous, a little bit anxious, overwhelmingly stupid and still tired. He peels his shirt up over his head which musses his hair up and reveals some patchy, red marks that are already much better than they were when he was found. He might owe some of that to the gem but most of it to Connor, so he should probably stop being in his feelings and acknowledge him.]

He died when I was thirteen, just in case the tension wasn't palpable enough for you. [The words and he was kind of a huge asshole are in the back of his throat, but he can't make himself say it so he just flops back onto the bed and haphazardly kicks the covers down to settle under them before he rolls on his side.]

Edited 2021-05-30 12:41 (UTC)

[The question who died is almost out of his mouth before he puts it all together. Oh. It's a little reminiscent of the way he felt when he saw Evan Hansen again, maybe. The way they both thought they were seeing a ghost. The way that they didn't know what the fuck to do with each other. He could say any of that, but words aren't really... Sometimes words fail, and that's okay.

Instead, Connor shrugs off the denim jacket he's taken to wearing here, even though it's maybe unseasonably warm for it, and drops it on the floor before settling on the bed behind Dave, above the covers. He touches his forehead to the back of Dave's neck and breathes out.]

Larry told me I was attention seeking when I slit my wrists in the bathtub. [It's easy to change if you give it your attention—] Family's what you make it.

[Dave feels that he can parse from context that Larry might be Connor's dad. That he calls him by his name says a lot about how he acknowledges him but it seems reasonable given that very brief glimpse into who he is as a person.]

Man, your life is like a clown car full of irredeemable douchebags, huh? [He doesn't say it to make light of it, he means it. It bothers him to hear it but it's vulnerable and it makes him feel safer in sharing more of himself.]

Yeah. Kind of had to move on but we never really talked about the fact that he categorically failed at almost every aspect of caretaking except for being over-protective. [There's some bitterness to his tone but it softens as he relaxes into Connor behind him. He's just radiating warmth as a result of the ruby in him trying to help along the regenerating process.]

But he's different now. I think.

No. [The word is soft, but full of emotion.] I just like to lead with the worst of me.

[Gently, Connor wraps an arm around Dave's midsection. He still keeps the barest sliver of space physically between them, like that makes any of this less intimate. Deep down, part of him recognizes this is weird but he's just shoving it in a box to think about later. That's a problem for later.

He doesn't want to talk about their respective, fucked up families really. Like, he could say something about how people change and circumstances sometimes suck and this or that but Connor doesn't know how to make himself say platitudes. If they end up actually having that conversation, it'll be very real and very raw. That's... not right now.]

Do you want me to tell you a story? An actual one, not one of my fucked up life stories.

If this is the worst you've got then we're gonna be fine.

[Tiredly, but he still sounds very sure of himself because he's very sure he has a good read on Connor by now.

He appreciates the opt out for this conversation because the more he says, the less he feels like he really understands his own thoughts. He's liable to confuse Connor and confuse himself even more.

Dave scoots back gently to close the gap between them, evidently less scared of the intimacy. He's a cuddler by nature and doesn't think there's anything inherently weird about two guys spooning platonically. Maybe only because it's in his brother's bed, but he's trying not to think about it.

He pauses to consider the question.]

Sure. [Seems like a good way to settle his mind and stop thinking about what Bro is doing right now.]

You can tell me an actual one or a fucked up one, dealer's choice.

[It isn't the worst of him, but Connor doesn't say that. Let Dave think that the worst he has is a shitty family.]

Once, the moon had two princes. "Ah," said each prince when they woke in the morning, "I wish I had someone to be with." Each prince thought he was absolutely alone in the whole universe, in the vast and incomprehensible loneliness of space.

[This is one of the times that Connor is choosing to put emotion in his voice. Dave's probably heard him take this tone before when he reads, soft and lilting like a lullaby. This story might also sound vaguely familiar to Dave: it loosely correlates to a picture book Connor made Ricky only there weren't any words in the book. Just illustrations.]

Each day the princes would wish on a star for someone to be with. They wished and wished and wished until one day, their wishes came true. For one brief moment, it seemed like everything they ever wanted but they encountered a problem.

The prince of the dark side of the moon was blinded by the prince of the bright side of the moon's mere presence. "Oh," the dark prince said, "I cannot be with you. You're too flashy for me." The bright prince was saddened by this but let the dark prince go.

One day, something miraculous happened: an eclipse. "Do you still," the bright prince said, "find me too flashy?" "No," the dark prince said. The two talked until the eclipse was over and even afterward found that they could ease the loneliness of thinking that you're alone in the world. Sometimes, even though it may not seem it at first, people can be be brought together.

[Is. Is this an allegory? Is this an actual-ass fucking thing that happened to Connor, wrapped up in fairytale language? That's a good question, but the answer is extremely unclear.]

[Dave doubts its all Connor has going on but in his vague, bullshit way he wants Connor to know that he's probably willing to accept whatever parts of him he wants to offer. Whether that's because he's awkwardly compassionate by nature or just a lonely person remains to be seen. It's probably both.

It should probably feel weirder being held while being told a bedtime story, but it's not a memory he can attach any sentiment to so it is what it is. Connor's voice engages him in the story, even if his eyelids are getting frustratingly heavy and hard to hold open.

Dave listens and, with god-like discipline, doesn't interrupt. Probably because he's tired, but also because he's interested. There are some aspects of the story that remind him of the moons back home and the people assigned to each one. Maybe he shouldn't read that deep into it, although he wonders what it means to Connor since he certainly isn't talking about Derse and Prospit.

When Connor finishes, he's silent for a little as if he's asleep. He's not. Eventually:]

Woah. That's so sad. [Hot takes by big brains.]

Is that it? What happens when there isn't an eclipse?

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cw; child neglect/abuse!!

cw: previous suicide attempts

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