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Mm.

[ he doesn't respond BADLY to the flirt, but there's an air of disinterest about him in response to it, which is probably actually still bad if i think about it for more than one second.

but anyway, connor asks for scissors and dirk takes the small pair he uses for detail work out of the sewing shit on the counter and hands them over carefully, leaning back a little now that connor isn't actively stitching. ]

Thanks. I need to get this cleaned up by the time Dave wakes up.

[Connor looks off into the distance for a moment, eyes slightly unfocused.]

He won't wake up yet. [Then, realizing that sounds ominous as shit:] Sorry, I mean. He's still sleeping. Do you need help with anything else? I'm already gory as shit.

[He's actually not. His hands are nearly clean except for the smearing of blood on his fingertips from the actual process of sewing. Sometimes, your weird musical theatre powers mean you don't actually get blood on you because there's no blood budget. Don't worry about it.]

[ you know what, sure. sure, that ominous comment is fine even though he grips the edge of the counter until connor amends it.

he's openly surprised by the lack of blood on connor's hands, but he shakes his head and stands. he stretches, winces one (one) time, then shakes his head again. ]

I already owe you for stitching me up. I'll take care of this then go shower and get rid of these clothes.

[Sometimes, when he uses the weirder aspects of his powers, he forgets that they're... unpleasant. To other people. He can get a glimpse at the trajectory of what's happening at any given moment, but it always comes out of his mouth ominously. Connor stands, taking a deliberate step back.]

Do you want me to stay? I can go.

You don't have to go. I'm not about to tell you to leave.

[ he starts to rummage under the sink for some cleaners and a cloth, but pauses as he looks over toward the blood all over the floor. ]

Fuck, I don't have a mop.

[Connor's mildly afraid Dirk's just gonna bleed all over the floor and nothing will get cleaned up. He's not going to just, like, say that though. It would be rude, first of all, but second of all he feels like there's definitely a line that's been drawn between the two of them and he doesn't really... it feels weird to cross it, right now.]

It'll go faster if you let me clean this up and you go clean yourself up.

[ there's a pregnant pause. finally dirk sighs and puts the cloths he'd taken out on the counter and nods. ]

Fine.

[ he hesitates before adding: ]

Thank you.

Don't mention it.

[Connor closes the gap between them again, wordlessly taking one of the cloths Dirk set on the counter, wetting it in the sink, and then kneeling again to get his Cinderella on. This is easy. This he knows how to do. It feels like the first normal thing he's done since Dave texted him, and he sinks into the repetitive nature of it without paying attention to anything else.

He should go. He should have gone, actually, but instead he focuses on making the floor as spotless as possible. If he just focuses on that, he doesn't have to think about the anxiety threatening to unspool in his chest.]

I won't.

[ dirk disappears a moment after that: he just sort of slinks off into the shadows, though his mental state is in more of a 'flash step away from whatever's going on' mode.

he heads to the bathroom to take a shower and toss his clothes in a garbage bag. he'll take that out later. he's gone a while, mostly because there's blood everywhere, and when he comes back out he's in lounge pants and a white long-sleeve shirt. there's no blood on it, so he must've taken care of his arm too.

he drops on the couch with a grunt, head tipping back toward the ceiling. ]

I'm getting slower.

[ he might just be projecting, but it feels that way. normally he would have been able to slice a guy into pieces before he could even react, but here he is, worse for wear because he was too slow. ]

Is it that you're slower or that your powers aren't working quite right?

[Connor's washing the rags when Dirk comes back out. The question is curious because he doesn't have very much reference when it comes to these sorts of things. His powers don't quite work right here either, but they're also so unwieldy that he's not noticing much of a difference in how he uses them. He knows that Dave had problems with his powers, though, and it stands to reason that if they're related, their powers might be related and under the same sorts of restrictions.

Then, very hesitantly:]

You might not have enough manna for it either.

I don't really have powers.

[ well, not really. not like any of the kids that got their powers around the time he died. he sighs, tipping his head more to look in connor's direction. ]

I'm good with swords, I'm sturdy, and I'm fast. That's the extent of my skills.

[ he sighs, running his tongue over his teeth and just going back to leaning his head back. he closes his eyes this time. ]

The manna has an effect on everything you do to an extent, doesn't it? Not just powers? All I've really done is a spar.

Sure, and this isn't a power either.

[Connor waves a hand around absently, music suddenly playing softly. It has no obvious source, and the song doesn't... okay. The music always means something, but in this case, he was using his powers like a personal radio and all he did was expand the area of effect.]

Just because something is normal where you're from doesn't mean it's normal everywhere, and it's all connected to manna.

[That was maybe the worst thing for him to learn: manna isn't just the source for his stupid gem powers, it's the source powering his ability to manipulate the music. It's quiet when he doesn't have enough manna to power his inner sense of hearing and he's never experienced that before. It genuinely frightened him the first time it happened, and he's taken pains to not let it happen again.]

Mm. Figured that was you.

[ he's noticed the music, and it just seemed to make sense that it was connor. dirk likes music, overall, so he's not opposed to a walking soundtrack, it's just jarring the first couple of times.

he barely restrains himself from sighing again, throat working once as he swallows.

when he continues, there's an air of quiet about it, like it's not something he'd normally admit. ]

Normally, I'm too fast for normal human eyes to follow. It's come easily to me for years. Tonight, though... I was lagging. I wouldn't have gotten this wounded normally. Maybe one or the other, but both? Too slow. I don't know what to do with that. I don't want to have to touch people just to be able to do what I've always done, but I can't fall behind.

You don't have to... touch them, necessarily.

[Eugh. He doesn't really want to... explain this. He really does not want to explain how Dave knows him because Connor lived with him for a week in a weird. Domestic domming. Situation. To his brother. So instead he goes with:]

You didn't feel it earlier, when I stitched you up? It's about intimacy and you can achieve that other ways. If you... whip someone, for example, and they're into that.

[He shrugs. Maybe that's not the best example—whipping requires aftercare, right? He's not really, uh. Into that specifically? So he doesn't really... know? But every other kink he can think of on short notice requires more contact. He's definitely just not super knowledgeable and most of what he knows is... definitely mainly gleaned from a small scattering of experiences and an unhealthy amount of fanfic. Don't worry about it!]

Fighting's intimate, right, but if you're used to using your powers to fight then you're gonna use up more manna than you're generating. Like earlier... I couldn't heal Dave without generating more manna. The healing was draining me.

If I'm honest... It's not even so much the touching as the intimacy. I'm no good with it.

[ he picks at his nailbeds briefly, looking at his hands like he can still see the blood on them. he doesn't have his gloves on because they're drying; his hands are scarred too. when he speaks again it's after a long silence. ]

I did feel it, earlier. It wasn't as difficult as I thought it'd be, but that still doesn't mean I'm particularly open to doing it in general.

[ he feels heavy suddenly, tired and weighted, and he's not sure if it's the lack of manna, the wounds, the conversation, or all three. ]

I didn't feel any better after the spar. I should have realized why to start with.

Yeah. The rewards of being loved aren't worth the mortifying ordeal of being known.

[He hesitates for a moment, dropping the rag in his hands into the sink, music fading into the background until it's entirely silent. Connor can still feel it, but that's different from hearing it.]

Can I try something?

Mm.

[ he shifts to look over at him, brow furrowed a bit, but then his face relaxes a little into something measured and flat and he nods. ]

Go for it.

[Connor crosses the space between the kitchen and the couch, sitting on the floor. For the record, this is what he's singing, but the music that comes back in is much more stripped down, and Connor's voice is much more vulnerable than angry. He's had this thought recently that if it's about intimacy, the mortifying ordeal of being known, singing probably qualifies. For him, at least.]

I am all the teams I never made
and all the games I never played
Parents who mistreated
and every time I was defeated
and every breakdown...
Every person who forgets you,
every friend that left you,
nowhere else to go

[There's the barest thread of suggestion behind it when he does it, the tiniest implication that Dirk should just accept this and let it happen. Just let him sing this weirdly emotionally vulnerable song to you and see if it causes anything to happen.]

[ dirk just sits quietly, for it. song has been important in his relationships in the past, no matter what kind--ginger lipsyncing songs onstage to make him blush, making music with dave, on and on.

he doesn't think about it much as a rule, but that's going to work here too. he listens, really listens, and it really is a raw and open song that he didn't expect. they hardly know each other, but here connor is, and it's... he doesn't know how to describe how that makes him feel, so he won't.

it does feel like something though, and he runs his tongue over his teeth in a close approximation of nervousness. not quite, but close.

he doesn't interrupt, though one hand does briefly skate out to brush over connor's hair. just once. ]

[Connor swallows when Dirk brushes his hand over his hair. His hair's tied up in a bunch of self-image shit for him, so it's. The contact makes something settle in his chest, warm and quiet.]

Before the breakdown
If I keep running, I'll escape it
One day I might make it
far away from home
where every broken bone and scar
won't define just who you are
Someday I'll grow up just like you should
before the breakdown breaks you for good

[His voice quiets on the last line until the last word is basically whispered. Synchrony feels... different? To him. Or rather, it's not so much something he feels as something he hears as the midpoint of a mashup and harmony blending into melody. The problem is that new emotions take a while for him to interpret properly and he can't quite tell what happened there. Instead of worrying about it, he breathes.]

I can't really tell how well that worked, so you're going to have to give me a review here.

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