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Oh yeah. Men doing terrible push-ups is my fetish.

[Said in the same flat tone he says everything, but it's probably clear it's a joke to Dave. Absently, when Dave starts to struggle, Connor glances over and momentarily frowns.]

Switch to kneeling. I'm not trying to kill you. I'm trying to get you to feel something other than fucked up and sad.

[At least he's honest about his intentions?]

All push-ups are terrible push-ups. [He hisses.

He very pointedly ignores the out and, in fact, it coupled with the reasoning is the bitter, stubborn drive he needs to push through the last four before he flops to the ground and rolls to the side so he can look up at Connor from the floor.]

I feel less sad but I feel-- fuck, phew-- I feel more fucked up. Worth it.

[Connor waits ten full seconds before he says:]

You still have five from stealing the cookie dough.

[His voice has taken on the slight edge again, because well. Apparently that's where they're at right now? They're back at weird, platonic domming and at least that's, like, something he knows. That's easy to fall back on. Connor turns, opening the oven and shoving the baking sheet in there before shutting it again.]

[Connor's voice takes an edge and it's usually a coin flip as to whether Dave feels like complying or deliberately rebelling. Admittedly the stakes are slightly higher because if he does another five he might die.

He pulls himself off the floor so he can lean his hands on the counter and frown at Connor defiantly.]

You said ten. Not ten more. No dice.

It's cumulative. You know that, schnickelfritz.

[Connor steps into Dave's space, hand settling on his hip. Despite being an entire inch shorter, Connor has presence when he chooses to and he's currently choosing to. Leaning forward, lips at Dave's ear, Connor says:]

You want to be good for me, don't you?

I don't know shit or fuck and you know that--

[Because it's one of the first things Connor ever said to him.

He knows he's being absolutely fucked with at this very moment, but it doesn't make the way he feels about it any less real. His breath still catches, the hairs on the back of his neck still prickle and he feels a pleasant peak in his feelings before his heart sinks and his stomach drops and he loses the good vibes almost instantly.

It's a visible shift in his face, the way he almost leans in and then shies away. He doesn't want to be cold, but it is standoffish when he leans his head back from his ear.]

Ceej..

[He starts. He wishes he didn't start. Should've just done the push ups.]

Edited 2021-08-04 07:06 (UTC)

It stops when you say no.

[Connor's aware that it's probably better if he gives Dave an actual word for this shit, but it's not really like that between them. There's never anything that Connor wouldn't simply stop if Dave said so. On this end of it, he doesn't fuck around like that.]

So say no, or do another five.

[Dave's lips twitch, like he's about to respond with the obvious answer. It's easy, just say no. If he doesn't want it, he just says no.

But he can't form the words because he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to say no. He wants to stop thinking and stop feeling shit and Connor has offered that. He'll probably regret it, he'll definitely regret it.

He presses a warm palm to his chest like he's going to push him down, cocking his head defiantly at him.]

No.

[He says, but he leans in the short distance between them to gently press their lips together.]

[Connor stills when Dave kisses him. It's just for a moment, a second of shock before Connor is pressing Dave into the counter. It's slightly more aggressive that he would normally be, but he's taking the no to be about the push-ups, the punishment. He knows what it's like to feel so out of control you're drowning and Connor's pretty sure that as long as he has the reins, then Dave will at least float.

Maybe. Here's hoping, anyway, because he still feels vaguely responsible for Dave in a way that's... it's whatever. He'll deal with that when he gets there, if he gets there.

Right now, he's pinning Dave to the counter and, maybe for the first time, it's clear that he's much stronger. It's the solidness of someone who's used to being physical, who can lift heavy objects without much thought. When he breaks the kiss, it's to say:]

I still make the rules here, Dave. Just because you can say no doesn't mean you can misbehave.

[Dave, who by no means is a fragile or frail person, is suddenly very aware of how solid Connor is in this position. Maybe it's because he feels more real, because it's become more real.

At least physically. Mentally, Dave's lost in a sauce of sad escapism and complicated attraction and a dangerous curiosity. A soft hum escapes him and he immediately feels guilty about how much he obviously enjoys it.

Connor breaks the kiss and Dave looks down and away again, drawing his bottom lip into his mouth before he breathes out a sigh and looks up at Connor.]

I can't. [His hand tightens on Connor's shirt, then loosens.]

I can't do this. I don't want to do this to you.

[And you want to believe it's true, so you make it—

No. No, he's not going to do that. It would be so easy to just lean in close and sing the feeling until it takes, but this isn't about what Connor wants. There's a gentle lull of strings rising in the distance and then, softly:]

Silence overtaking, darkness overhead,
shadows now are waking monsters in the bed
Bitter hearts are aching, heaven knows just why,
but look the clouds are breaking: full moon lullaby

[It's the same trick he pulled on Ricky when they first met. A sense of peace should wash over Dave and in a sense? In a sense that's just as bad as the other thing he wanted to do but... he doesn't want Dave to worry about it. It'll only last until the song is over anyway. Connor kisses Dave's cheek once he's done and then takes a deliberate step back.

He meant what he said: it stops when Dave says.]

[Whatever was rising in Dave seems to dissipate as Connor sings and, although Connor has warned him about his powers, Dave isn't making the connection. In his mind, it's purely because Connor's voice is nice, the song is nice and he needs the comfort.

Just like that, he kind of forgets why he was so upset in the first place. He turns as Connor kisses his cheek and now has the ability to ignore the little niggling desire to chase him for more.

He rests back against the counter, palms braced on it as he just quietly contemplates absolutely nothing. He's still looking down and away for the moment and then he's turning to open the gaping void of the fridge to look inside.]

You thirsty?

[There's a loaded question.]

[He is... so fucking thirsty. He wants to pin Dave to the fucking counter and suck him off, bring him to the edge and then stop over and over until Dave cries.

But that's not the question Dave is asking, so Connor breathes out and tries to remember that he actually cares about Dave as, like, a person. That's the real difference here: he doesn't want to just take things. It's just instinctual to take the situation and push it around until it benefits him. He wants... he just wants, is the problem, and Dave's saying no. That should be enough, but Connor's unused to not getting what he wants, now, and there's some small, traitorous part of his brain that's telling him to just go get it elsewhere.]

Nah. I'm good.

[If he says it enough, maybe it'll be true at some point.]

[Blissfully unaware of the way Connor's thoughts turn, Dave shrugs at his response and leans in to take out a bottle of apple juice that's about three quarters full. He unscrews it as he hip-bumps the door shut and, since Connor said no, he takes a swig out of it before he sets it on the counter.

He steps away from it, fishing through another cupboard before pulling back with a bottle of vodka left over from the party ages ago. He's not really a drinker but, if there were ever a time to drink, he thinks it would probably be now.

He unscrews it, tipping it into the apple juice bottle until it is topped up again.]

What've you been up to lately? Feels like I haven't seen you much since... uh. The beach shit.

[He takes the full bottle in his hand, capping it to swish it around before uncapping it to take another swig.]

[Connor thinks about it, about panicking in the darkness and feeling so fucking out of control of himself he just wanted. He's still coming down off that, honestly, which probably explains his behavior. He could tell Dave that.

But he's not going to.]

Working, like usual. Ran around making ice boxes for restaurants during the blackout, tried to help out people who were kids, got my dragon back. [He shrugs.] Don't drink all that.

[It lands more on the friendly ribbing side of things, rather than the "platonically dom your friend" side of it. Mostly Connor doesn't want Dave drinking himself sick about the situation.]

[Dave nurses his big ass drink, listening to Connor list off his monthly doings. He seems to take it in stride, pulling a face at the comment.]

I won't drink it all if you drink some. [He wiggles it, temptingly, then pauses. He thinks, opens his mouth and closes it.

Fuck it.]

Did you say you've got a dragon?

[He doesn't drink, actually. Kind of hates it, always found his vices elsewhere. Still, he reaches out and takes the bottle from Dave casually.]

Did I not tell you about Puff? I tamed a dragon once. They love beef jerky, terrorizing visitors, and wool ponchos.

[Connor casually takes a swig from the bottle and then holds it back out for Dave to take.]

[Drinking is not something Dave engages in with any frequency and so, when he does, it's like watching a baby deer try to walk. Struggles and so easily knocked down.

He's not going to finish this. He takes a swig.]

Weirdly, I feel like you could have told me about it and I just put it in my catalogue of facts about you that seem like they should make less sense than they do and forgot about it. Like the trident.

[He shrugs his shoulders.]

I guess that stuff is normal to me, to the point where you'd probably be less normal if you were more normal.

[He runs his hand over his face, muttering to himself:]

Stop saying normal.

I don't know what you're talking about. I'm super normal compared to most people.

[His perception of this is... skewed. It's really skewed, because he doesn't consider musical theatre bullshit to be weird but everyone else does. He also just rates it on scale of "weird things didn't happen to me where I'm from" versus "weird things have happened in my life" so it's averaged weirdly.]

I don't know what you think is normal because I've had to piece everything I know about you together from crumbs like some bizarre recreation of what a blind person thinks Mt.Rushmore looks like.

[He drinks.]

But like, made out of crumbs. Anyway. I thought you were from America too but the America I knew only had guns and footballs, not dragons. So I kind of just assumed you were from post-apocalypse America which I guess technically I am too.

[He taps his chin as he rambles, thinking.]

Sometimes I feel like we've got everything in common and sometimes I feel like I don't know you at all.

Yeah, no. I'm boring as hell: I grew up in Philly, I went to private school until I got kicked out for dealing weed, I was on the swim team, I sucked a lot of dick. [He shrugs.] Then I died and a god brought me back to life and I tamed a dragon. Shit happens.

[These two things are really not related, but Connor says them like they are because why wouldn't he? To him they're related, but he's skipped over the part in the middle where the god brought him back to life in a different world entirely.

It's not, like, a secret? Dave saw Ensō, in the dream bubble. Connor simply assumes that Dave's put those pieces together without him having to explicitly say it.]

It's not any weirder than being here. At least I don't have to fistfight a fucking god here.

[Yup. He's just gonna keep saying shit he doesn't realize is absolutely fucking bonkers.]

Oh, yeah. I guess that's pretty normal.

[Contemplative, he traces shapes idly on the table.]

More normal than me, I think. I didn't really.. I dropped out, at some point. I don't really remember. But I was thirteen when all the Earth exploding stuff happened and I didn't think I liked dudes for the next three years so I sucked significantly less dick, too. I wouldn't rule out fistfighting Malachite just yet though.

Oh, no. If I fistfight Malachite, it's gonna be because I want to. I had to fight gods back home. It's why I already knew how to do this.

[He holds up his hand and water collects in his palm. Connor blows across the surface of it and it scatters into water droplets that sparkle in the awful lighting of Dave's kitchen.]

My god is Water.

[Dave blinks his eyes as the water scatters, cocking his head to the side curiously.]

See, I get that. Because my god is Time. Only I am also the god of it. Kind of. But I'm not gonna fuck around and show you--

I'm distracting myself-- You just said home is where you fight gods but you literally just told me your life is normal and you live in normal suburban America and I know I've seen other stuff but you didn't say that was home.

[It's not exactly that Connor is deliberately practicing sleight of hand whenever he answers people's questions or talks about himself. He simply... doesn't bring things up unless they're relevant. Or explain various disparate facts he's said about himself.]

I said I'm super normal. I never said anything about my life being normal. [A beat.] Although technically both are true if you only count "life" as the part up until I offed myself the first time.

[People who've never thought very hard about whether or not they count as "alive," given how many times they've died: Connor.]

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cw: suicide mention