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There are two humans standing in the centre of the meteor’s common room. Dressed in godtier pajamas and tightly clutching onto each other’s hands, they look ridiculously pitiful. And not in a romantic way.
You recognise them both, of course. Lalonde, now dressed in bright orange that’s startling different to her usual gothic attire, is still recognisable with her short, neatly cut, bleached blonde hair and dark makeup, though it’s streaked in tear stains down her face now and there are tangles in the hair that make it’s straight edges not quite so perfect. And then there’s Strider, looking as much of a douchebag as usual with his hood up over his white hair, and those obnoxious shades still covering most of his face. Lalonde has said a few words so far, a “hello”, and a question as to the dwindled numbers of your team that was awkwardly answered by Terezi, who used too many hand gestures to describe the deaths of your friends. Lalonde looked appropriately disturbed by the entire display, black painted lips twitching into a grimace. Strider, though, hasn’t said anything. He’s just staring ahead, the direction of his gaze untraceable thanks to those shades, his face as blank as the walls that you’ve worked so hard to scrub all traces of blood from over the last few days.
“Well,” Kanaya says eventually, bringing her hands together with a clapping sound that echoes through the awkward silence, “We have rooms for you, though they’re mostly bare, I apologise. We have an alchemiter though, so you shouldn’t have too much difficulty alchemising whatever supplies you might need. And we want you to feel as welcome and at home here as possible. After all, none of us are going anywhere for a long few sweeps.”
“Thank you,” Lalonde says, a small smile gracing her face. Even through her smeared makeup and obvious exhaustion, she’s as strikingly beautiful as she always been, her pale skin almost seeming to glow in the meteor’s dull lighting and her eyes an unnatural purple that’s visible even from the distance you’re at. One look at Kanaya tells you that your friend is already infatuated with her.
“Of course,” Kanaya says with a small smile, “I can show you to the spare rooms we have, if you wish.”
“That would be nice,” she nods, “Dave and I have… we’re very tired. It would be best for us both to sit down for a while, I think.”
Kanaya nods understandably, and then turns to look at you with a small nod that very clearly means ‘we’re done here for now’. And when she starts to head off with the humans down one corridor, you disappear off on your own to go back to your respiteblock and the romance novel you’d abandoned when Kanaya insisted you be a part of the welcoming committee.
*****
The humans soon settle in to life on the meteor, much like you and the other trolls have done. You see Lalonde the most. She’s often in the common room with Kanaya, or making food for herself in the mealblock. Occasionally you talk to her, though at first you’re a little put off by her way of speaking, and her strange ability to analyse you and work out exactly what you’re thinking. You soon find she has a love for reading, though, and she directs you towards some wizard books (and their respective fanfiction) that you find yourself enjoying more than you’d expected to.
Strider, though, is still a mystery. He keeps to himself most of the time, though occasionally you bump into him in can town, which the mayor has been steadily building up since he joined you on the meteor. Every time you enter a room, though, he leaves almost instantly. Terezi and Kanaya tell you he does the same with them too, though, which leaves you feeling just a little less insulted. The weirdest part of it all, though, is that even after a few perigees living together on the meteor with Strider, you realise one day that you have never heard him speak a single word.
Once you realise this, it’s impossible to focus on anything else. You find yourself seeking Strider out purposefully, frequenting the places you know he hangs out (apart from his respiteblock, you’re not that invasive), and when you do find him you try to strike up conversation. The only problem is that you’ve never exactly been the best at small talk, and every time you wander up to him with a “hey” or “sup” he just raises an eyebrow over his shades, or shrugs, and then wanders away. He always walks just a little faster than usual when leaving you, and you’re starting to wonder if maybe he’s just avoiding you. Does he really just not like you?
The mystery begins to become unbearable, to the point that it angers you.
Finally, you snap. It’s a day when all of you (except Gamzee, of course) are gathered on the dusty floor of the common room, running through what everyone’s found out recently, and putting this new knowledge together into the plan you’re already starting to form for what will happen when this meteor meets its destination. Rose and Terezi have been talking animatedly about battle techniques for a while now, Terezi eagerly demonstrating how she once stabbed Vriska in the back to an alarmingly interested Rose, while you and Kanaya run through the notes you have on the destination you are headed to. Strider, meanwhile, is sitting on the couch, staring at the wall ahead and not even trying to make a single input into the conversation. Not for the first time, you find his silence rude and frustrating, and briefly you wonder why no one else has ever mentioned it. A few times you even try to ask for his input. He shrugs or grunts as usual.
Eventually, it’s too much. You give up. Subtlety was never your strong point anyway.
“Speak, you asshole!” You shout, wheeling around to face him, and feeling a rush of satisfaction when he flinches backwards in his seat, “What, we aren’t important enough to be blessed by the sound waves of your slimy human vocal cords? We aren’t worth the energy it takes to open and close your mouth a few times? Why don’t you get down here and help for once in your miserable fucking existence?”
“Karkat,” Kanaya says, and you hold up a hand in her direction. It’s rude, but you’ll apologise later. She’ll understand, she always does.
“No, Kanaya, I’m sick of it. Here we all are, working our asses off, trying to plan how we’re going to survive after the sweeps we have to spend on this fucking rock together, and Strider can’t even be bothered to put in the tiniest bit of input! Even I’m not that fucking rude. Me! Karkat Vantas, loud, shouty, obnoxious asshole, isn’t as rude as Dave Strider! Who’d have fucking thought it?”
“Karkat,” Kanaya repeats, and this time it comes out with a hint of a growl to it, her eyes fixed sharply on you.
“What?” You snap, “Why the fuck are you protecting him? What, are you pale for him too now, just like you are for fucking everybody?” Kanaya steps away from you, hurt in her eyes. Fuck. It wasn’t her you were trying to insult. “I’m sorry, it’s just Strider is -”
“Shut up!” Rose shouts, suddenly jumping to her feet, “Karkat, shut up RIGHT NOW!” Her hands are clenched at her sides and you can practically feel the anger radiating off of her, crackling in the air between you two in a way that reminds you dreadfully of Sollux’s psionics. You gulp faintly and finally stop the stream of words coming from your throat. You’d forgotten how powerful Lalonde was.
One of Kanaya’s hands falls down onto your shoulder, and at first you think she’s comforting you, not that you deserve it. But then she grabs your other shoulder too, just a little too tightly, and you realise you’re being restrained. Instinctively, you snarl. Then your eyes travel over to the humans and you stop.
“Come on,” Rose is murmuring to Dave at the other side of the room, reaching out to take his hand and help him up, pulling him close to her side with one arm around his shoulders as she starts to head out of the room. He practically crumples against her side, looking weaker than you’ve ever seen him before, his face not quite as blank as usual, and you hear a faint sniffling. Is he crying? He is, you realise. He also seems to not be breathing properly. You feel guilty then, like the asshole you are, and open your mouth to say something. Kanaya’s hands tightening further around your shoulders shut you up, and you just watch silently, mouth still half-open, as the two humans slowly leave the room. Rose shoots a dark glare in your direction as they pass by you.
“Karkat,” Kanaya says despairingly, when the two humans are gone from the room and the sound of Rose quietly whispering to Dave has become too distant to hear.
“Yeah, I know! I fucked up!” You hiss, wriggling out of her loosening grip and spinning to face her. You don’t need one of her lectures right now.
“No, Karkat, you don’t understand,” she sighs softly with a shake of her head, “I thought you knew.”
You pause. “Knew what?”
“Dave he… he can’t speak, Karkat,” Kanaya says, and she won’t quite make eye contact with you, “He’s mute.”
Oh.
Fuck.
You are such an asshole.
*****
Two days of panicking and hating yourself later, you emerge from the pile in your room where you’ve taken to sulking, and make a decision. No use feeling sorry for yourself. It’s time you try for once in your life to actually apologise for your shitty behaviour.
The problem is, you have no idea where to find Strider.
He’s not in can town, or the common room, and you have no idea where his respiteblock is. You would consider asking Rose, but she stills fixes you with a cold gaze everytime you approach, and she hasn’t said much to you in the few times you’ve bumped into her since the incident. So, for hours, you wander the seemingly endless corridors of the meteor, until finally you happen upon a door right at the end of one long, dark hallway, and pause outside.
You sniff at the air faintly. Terezi isn’t the only troll with an enhanced sense of smell, though hers is by far the strongest of anyone you’ve met before, and it’s not too difficult for you to pick up on the irritating scent of apples that seems to follow Strider wherever he goes. This must be his respiteblock (or ‘bedroom’ as the humans apparently call them).
You don’t bother knocking, because you know he won’t let you in. It’s certainly not polite to barge in, but it’s not like he thinks of you as a polite person anyway at this point, and nothing is going to stop you from making this apology. You are the most sorry person in the world right now. It is you.
What you don’t expect when you step slowly into the room is for him to instantly jump up from wherever he was sitting, his movements too fast even for you to track, and to suddenly be approaching you with a sword in his hand. He pauses slightly when he sees it’s you, though, and his top lip twitches upwards into a faint sneer. His sword disappears back into his sylladex, not worth wasting on you apparently, though you’re sure you deserve it, but his defensive stance remains.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” you say, “Or shout again.”
He huffs, but then nods, and seems to relax a little. He retreats backwards onto his weird human bed, and sits himself against the wall, a pillow clutched to his chest. For a second he seems smaller than usual, sadder, too. You wonder if it’s just you that’s made him like this, or something else too. You’re not sure if you want to know either way.
“Don’t speak, just let me talk,” you say. He raises a thin white eyebrow over the top of his shades at you, and you realise what you just said. “Fuck, I mean uh -”
He just huffs and waves a hand to tell you to continue. He must be used to comments like that by now. You feel a little sorry for him, actually, though you’re sure he doesn’t want your pity. (Still not the romantic kind, you’re sure you could never feel like that for Strider. And after all of this you’d never have a chance with him anyway.)
“Look, I’m really fucking sorry, okay?” You sigh, “I didn’t know you were mute. I thought you were just being rude.” He flinches at the word ‘mute’. That’s interesting. “I know you probably think I’m the biggest asshole in the world right now, and you’re probably fucking right, but I couldn’t just not apologise. So, here I am… saying sorry. I don’t do this a lot but… I really do regret it so, yeah… I’m sorry.”
There’s a notification from the phone device in your pocket. You curiously pull it out.
turntechGodhead [TG] started pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at ??:??
TG: are you done?
CG: UH YEAH
TG: cool
TG: you can go now
CG: WHAT?
TG: youve had your moment dude
TG: youve made your big apology so you can feel like a better person and sleep guiltlessly at night
TG: so just go
TG: get out
CG: THAT’S NOT WHY I DID IT
TG: really? Then whyd you do it?
CG: I DIDN’T MEAN TO UPSET YOU, OKAY?
TG: then maybe you should think about that next time before you go spouting off insults like a fucking asshole
CG: LOOK I’M SORRY
TG: i dont wanna hear it
TG: get
TG: out
You shove the phone angrily back into your pocket and look up at Dave with an angry snarl. He’s staring back at you impassively, still sitting comfortably on the bed, though his arms are now folded tightly across his chest, and when you continue to stare he simply nods at the door behind you. You want to argue, want to force him to accept your apology, but deep down you know that isn’t how that works. So you turn and leave with a heavy sigh. One day. One day you’ll make Strider listen to you.
The day comes almost a perigee later. Yeah, it really takes that long.
In that time, you and Strider have only run into each other a handful of times. After all, the meteor’s big and you've found that as long as you avoid can town and the rooms near his respiteblock, then it’s unlikely you’ll ever see him. In the few times you have seen him, though, he hasn’t so much as turned his head in your direction, purposefully turning his whole body away from you when he can. It’s petty, but he’s upset. You get it.
Then one day, when you’re sat on the sofa in the common room, flicking through a book Rose gave to you (she’s finally back to speaking to you, though she refuses to speak about Strider), he suddenly strolls into the room and flops down onto the empty end of the sofa. You’re sure he deliberately sits down with much more force than necessary. Dust plumes spiral upwards from the old cushions and into the air, and you follow their trail with your eyes deliberately so you don’t catch yourself staring at him instead. He doesn’t make any attempt at interaction, and neither do you, and for a while that’s just how it is.
Then, when the two of you have been sitting there in silence on the sofa for what feels like an impossibly long time he reaches over and shoves a small object into your hands. You look at it, then up at Strider in confusion, though he only just shrugs at you, then nods at your hands and the object in them. It’s a small notebook, open on a page covered in scribbled writing in ink that is, in typical Strider fashion, as bright red as your own blood.
its an anxiety thing. the mute thing, i mean. my childhood was kinda shitty, you dont need to know about it but, uh, i learned not to speak around people a lot. now when i try and speak it just… doesnt come out? i dont really know why. its like my throat closes up. on pesterchum i could ramble and say whatever i thought but in real life there was just... nothing. people used to call me a freak for it, like a lot. it fucked me up even more. i wanna speak. really. i wanna speak just so i can tell you what a fucking asshole you are. seriously dude why you gotta be so shouty all the fucking time? its weird. and kinda rude. but... i actually think youre pretty cool dude. i thought maybe wed one day get along when we first met. thats why it kinda hurts that youre such a dick all the time. like it just hurt that the one troll i thought i might get along with was suddenly fucking going off at me for the thing im most insecure about. you dont get it, and you never will but… its hard because people like rose are always telling me im not a freak like i think i am but then you just fucking said it all out loud and i… fuck dude i dont know. it just hurt. it still hurts. but im sorry for being so crappy about your apology. that was a dick move and i know you really wanted it to mean something.
“Fuck, Strider,” you say when you look up from the paper, and you thrust it back at him, “I know you said you didn’t want to hear it but I really am sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you, I just…” you trail off as you try to put into words all the things you’ve never said before. “Fuck, give me that thing back.”
He holds the notebook back out to you with an eyebrow raised, and you roll your eyes as you pull a pen of your own from your pocket.
“If you get to write your shit down, then so do I,” you say, “I don’t wanna say this shit out loud.”
He shrugs, as nonchalant as usual, and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. You watch him for a second and then look back down at your notebook to write out an explanation of your own.
I DON’T MEAN TO BE AN ASSHOLE. IT’S A… PROTECTIVE THING I GUESS. IF I’M A SNAPPY ASSHOLE WHO NO ONE WANTS TO TALK WITH, THEN PEOPLE ARE LESS LIKELY TO FIND OUT MY SECRETS OR HURT ME. I DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT ANYMORE, IT’S JUST AN INSTINCT. I DON’T MEAN IT, ANY OF IT. I PROMISE. I ACTUALLY THINK YOU’RE PRETTY COOL YOURSELF, WHEN YOU’RE NOT TRYING TO BE THE IRONIC COOL GUY IDIOT. I KINDA WANT US TO GET ALONG. AND I HOPE YOU CAN FORGIVE ME.
You shove the notebook back towards him, and watch nervously as he reads what you’ve written. You feel like you need to patch things up with him, that you need him to know how sorry you are. For once you don’t want to be seen as a bad person. Vaguely, you wonder what’s so different about Strider that he makes you feel this way.
“So,” you say slowly when you see him lower the note slightly, “Do you think you can, uh… forgive me?”
He turns his head towards you and stares for a slight second, before he picks up his phone and starts to type. You see the way his face scrunches up slightly in concentration as he types, and he’s typing for so long that you feel yourself start to worry. Then your own phone beeps in your pocket, and you pull it out very slowly, hesitant to check the message.
TG: sure thing dude
You turn to look at him, and realise he’s smirking very slightly, the most emotion you’ve ever really seen him show. He was trying to worry you, you realise.
“Asshole,” you scoff, and he lets out a small huff of air that you think is probably laughter. You scoop up the notebook to smack him on the shoulder with it, and grin faintly when he wrestles your hand to grab the notebook and smack you back.
When he finally stops trying to hit you, he drops the notebook into his lap and then curls his hand into a fist and extends it in your direction. For a second you think he’s going to punch you. Then you remember his weird human thing called a ‘fistbump’, and extend your own fist awkwardly. He lets out that little breathy laugh again and grabs your hand with his spare one, then pulls your hand forward to tap your knuckles against his. He nods afterwards, as if he’s satisfied, then gets up to his feet and strolls away as casually as if you didn’t both have an incredibly deep conversation. You assume that means that the tension between the two of you is fixed, and let out a sigh of relief as you watch the back of his head disappear around the corner. You have a feeling there’s a lot left to be said (or not said) between the two of you, but at least that one thing seems to be fixed for now.
*****
You start seeing Strider around more. He’s in the mealblock more often, and occasionally he’ll come and join you on the sofa in the common room. Still, you rarely talk, but he’ll bring his phone along to type out messages to you sometimes. They’re never anything insightful, just the worst jokes you’ve ever read and his bad attempts at irony. You find yourself laughing more than necessary anyway.
Then one night, when you’re curled up on that sofa, watching old Alternian romcoms and definitely not crying, he wanders into the room. You catch a glimpse of him yawning and rubbing at his eyes in an almost comically exaggerated display of tiredness, before he drops down into the tiny space between your feet and the arm of the sofa, curling himself up into a little ball. How he does that so well, you’ll never know. It’s like he’s used to having to make himself small. You don’t ever let yourself dwell on that thought for too long.
“What’s up with you, nookwhiff?” You ask. He doesn’t react to the insults anymore, and you don’t know whether to be pleased or disgruntled by that. He doesn’t react, just pats his pockets then holds his empty hands up with a sigh. You grab your own phone from your pocket and toss it at him. “What? I want you to be able to answer,” you say when he looks a little surprised at your generosity.
He spends an unnecessary amount of time just altering the colour of the text because he refuses to type in your usual grey. Seeing the red on your own phone screen makes you squirm uncomfortably, but you’ll just have to change it later. Eventually, he comes up with a whole two words in reply.
cant sleep
“Yeah, me neither,” you sigh. You glance at the television screen and see the credits starting to roll. “Wanna watch a movie? I’ll let you pick which one.”
He actually smiles. It’s a tiny one, and only there for a second, but it’s a smile nonetheless.
sure
He picks a terrible Earth comedy that should never have been given the green light for production, and spends the whole time typing out endless commentary on your phone screen, which glows softly in the space between you two on the sofa. Between pauses you occasionally hear his little breathy laugh, and even less often, the tiniest bit of sound, a hint of his vocal chords still remembering how noise works. You wonder if he’ll ever be able to speak again, you don’t know much about human anatomy, after all. It seems insensitive to ask, though. For now, you decide you’re more than happy enough with his strange little laugh and the lines of red text on your phone screen.
At some point during the third movie you two watch together, you fall asleep. And when you wake up, you’re still curled up in an odd position on the couch. Your muscles ache and scream in protest at you, and you’re still not quite used to sleeping without sopor.
Then you realise there’s something brushing against your horns ever so slightly, and you panic. It takes you a second to realise it’s not another troll, or person, though. It’s a cape. Dave’s cape. Dave’s cape is wrapped around your horns. How the fuck did that happen?
You try to wriggle your way out, and get your eyes covered by red fabric as a reward for your troubles. Instincts start to kick in and your heart starts to race, and suddenly you’re screeching. You feel a jolt of movement, and realise you’ve probably woken Dave, seconds before hands are on your head and tugging at the cape. You continue to screech until you can see again, and even then you still squirm because his hands are on your horns and they really shouldn’t be. And you really shouldn’t be enjoying it, either. You suppress the purr that’s threatening to start rattling at the back of your throat for long enough until his hands finally pull away and his cape falls free, and you turn to glare at him as sternly as you can manage. He’s laughing, though, harder than you’ve seen him laugh before, and you don’t even bother trying to restrain yourself from joining in. Soon the two of you are a pile of giggly messes almost slipping off the sofa.
It’s only later, when the two of you finally part ways, that you start to wonder how the two of you ever ended up curled up together so closely in the first place. You know you fell asleep first so… Was it him? Did he purposefully lay down with you? And if so… Why? You try not to think about it too much; humans have different ways of looking at things to trolls, and to him it’s probably nothing. Not worth getting hopeful over. And then you wonder when you started hoping that Strider might feel something for you?
*****
One whole sweep on the meteor. You and Dave are firm friends by now, to the point where he constantly calls you his ‘best bro’ and requests one of his awful human fistbumps every time he sees you. You do it, though, because otherwise he’ll pull you into what he calls a ‘bro hug’ as punishment, and that is by far worse,if only because at this point he’s worked out what touching your horns can do to you, and won’t refrain from doing it. You hope Kanaya or Terezi never tell him the full extent of what it really means for him to be touching your horns. That would make this all just so much worse.
At some point during the last few perigees, Rose started teaching Dave what she calls ‘sign language’ or ‘ASL’. You joined, eventually, upon Dave’s request, and now you spend far too much of your precious time learning how to make words with your hands, specifically so Dave doesn’t have to type or write out every single thing he has to say. You don’t mind as much as you pretend to, though. Really, you’re excited at the idea of being able to talk to Dave properly without a phone screen in the way. He doesn’t seem to realise this, but Rose certainly has, and she definitely knows about the secret pile of ASL books you’re storing in your respiteblock. Just as you know about the secret therapy sessions she does with Dave, in the hope that one day he’ll be able to find the ability to say a few words at least. You’d like to know what his voice sounds like, you decide.
When the two of you aren’t studying or doing therapy or planning for the end of the game (Rose still insists more preparation needs doing, but you think she’s just bored), you and Dave watch movies together, or play video games. Sometimes he even shows you human music he likes, and he likes to occasionally write out long raps, though he can’t perform them. Occasionally you spot him mouthing lyrics along to the tune, though, and your heart aches for him.
It is somewhere around this time that you realise something. Maybe the pity you feel for him is a little romantic. Maybe you are a little flushed for him. It’s not just that, though, because it feels like every quadrant. You love him, you want to keep him safe, you want him to be yours, but he’s always the most irritating person you’ve ever met some days (and that’s a hard title to earn; you’re friends with Terezi, after all). Suddenly, you think you understand the way that humans see love.
And then hanging out with him becomes difficult. You start to think about it too much, unable to sit close to him without obsessively focusing on the feeling of every single point where your bodies are touching, unable to look at him without wanting to grab onto him and not let go. You want to run your hands through his hair, and gently touch every single scar that marks his skin, and hold him tightly to you when he’s feeling a little down. Most of all, you think you want to know what it’s like to kiss him. His lips look soft, but he chews at them a lot. You wonder what they would feel like against your own.
He notices, you think, constantly asking if you’re okay, questioning why you’re so quiet some days. You don’t have anything to tell him, no way to explain yourself. So you just tell him you’re tired and he seems to accept it. The two of you just keep getting closer, though.
You find out he’s got more problems than you thought, though. The first proper noise you ever hear him make is a scream. You two apparently both fell asleep during a movie, and you’re woken up by his screaming and thrashing. He’s caught up in a nightmare, you realise, and it takes you a long time to shake him awake. When you finally manage it though, he stares at you wildly for a second, shades slipping from his face, and then he crumples against your chest and sobs as silently as possible into your sweater. You find out later that the nightmares are a regular thing, and the next time he has a nightmare you just pull him into the tightest hug you can and hold him until the shaking stops. The two of you sleep together in his bed a lot after that.
Then, it happens.
You and Kanaya are sitting together on the sofa in the common room together one day, you holding her box of pins as she sews, a movie playing quietly in the background. Dave strolls in at some point, and waves a small hello at you before he strolls over to a pile of beanbags in the corner and flops down into them. He’s looking a little troubled, biting at his lip as he pulls his phone from his pocket and starts typing slowly, pausing occasionally to run his hands through his hair in that way he does when he’s stressed. You’ll give him some time to himself, you decide, and see if he’s okay in a bit. You barely have time to think about checking on him before your phone suddenly chimes, and you pull it out from your pocket curiously. There’s a notification from Dave on the screen, and you click it curiously.
TG: hey
TG: uh i dont know how to say this but
TG: i dont wanna look like im trying to avoid you but i know ive been acting weird recently
TG: i just uh
TG: i really
TG: fuck
TG: dude i think i
TG: i think i like you
TG: in a way that friends shouldnt
TG: and i dont know what to do about that
You stare for a second at your phone, reading it again and again to make sure that you’re not seeing things. But, no. There it is, in bright red text, with a sinful lack of punctuation. Dave Strider likes you just as much as you like him. You’re dreaming, right?
“Everything okay?” Kanaya asks you, and you look up at her,, a little startled. You’d forgotten she was sitting there.
“Uh, yeah, I…” You look up and over at Dave. He’s shifting around, like he’s getting up to leave, and when he spots you looking at him he freezes uncomfortably. You realise you should probably react in some way.
Suddenly you’re up and moving across the room, letting Kanaya’s box of pins fall down onto the sofa. You’re not sure what you’re doing but you know you’ve got to do something. You’ve got to try and find some way to express how much he means to you. Kanaya calls after you as you walk across the room, but you ignore her. As you approach Dave, you see the way his throat bobs as he swallows thickly, and you can practically smell the fear radiating off of him.
“Hey,” you say quietly as you reach him, and he nervously catches his bottom lip with his teeth. Oh fuck this. He’s way too cute.
You fall down onto your knees in front of the beanbag, reach out, and grab the collar of his. He lets out a little huff of surprise, then you tug him forward as roughly as you can and catch his lips with yours. Your teeth clash against his for a second, and it takes you awhile to work out the best angle to kiss him from, but then he works a hand upwards into your hair and directs your head a little until the two of you slide into a better rhythm. He whines softly against your lips, and you vaguely register that it’s one of the only noises you’ve ever heard him made. That thought makes you press in closer to him, and you feel his hands scrabbling at your shoulders to try and get even closer to you. You’re just feeling the slightest hint of his tongue against your mouth when suddenly someone clears their throat, and Dave practically throws you away from him.
Shit. You’d forgotten Kanaya was still in the room.
You turn around awkwardly. Oh. Looks like Rose came in at some point too. You and Dave have a lot of explaining to do, you guess.
Then Dave grabs onto your hand, and when you look over at him he mouths the word, “run.” You nod, and then the two of you rush right past a shocked looking Kanaya and an apparently completely unfazed Rose, and out into the corridors beyond. You’re laughing breathlessly, and he’s wheezing slightly, but you don’t stop running until you’re down the furthest end of a darkened corridor where nobody’s likely to find you. You end up pushing him backwards against the wall, and he smirks at you before tipping his head downwards to kiss you again.
It’s slower this time, less insistent now you both know you aren’t going to lose each other. His hands slide into your hair, and you feel fingers brush against your horns in a way that makes you whine softly and press closer to him. You break away for air after only a few moments, then lean back in to press another small kiss to his lips. You feel the happy little sigh that he lets out against your mouth, and slide your hands down to his hips to squeeze his sides very gently.
“I’m so flushed for you, idiot,” you murmur happily, and he actually grins. Then his hands drift to your chest and he pushes you back just a little, only so that he can lift his head slightly. “Dave -”
He hushes you quickly by holding up a finger. “I…. I…”
Wait, did he just… Speak? You must be hearing things.
“Dave?” You squeak out.
He shakes his head, and then tries again. “I… I l-love y… you. I -” He chokes slightly on his own words then, trying to force something out but struggling. It’s too much for him.
“Hey,” you say softly, “It’s okay.” You stretch up on your toes to kiss him again briefly, and you realise that you might be crying just a little bit. When you pull back, he cocks his head sideways at you curiously.
“Your voice…” you say slowly, “It’s beautiful, Dave.”
He lets out a little choked noise, then scrabbles in his pocket for his little notebook, and you step back a little bit to let him write down whatever he wants to say. He passes it carefully over to you after a few moments.
thats what all the stuff with rose was for. shes helping me speak. i wanted to tell you that i love you. cos i do.
“I love you too,” you tell him, and you really do. You think you understand human love now. “Matesprits?” You ask a little awkwardly, and he smiles, before nodding almost desperately. You lean in and kiss him again, and then you’re both distracted by the sound of distant footsteps and a cane tapping against the uneven flooring. Terezi.
“Let’s get out of here,” you say, grabbing onto his hand again. He laughs, an actual sound rather than the usual wheezing, and then the two of you are running hand in hand down the corridors again.
Later that night, he lets you crawl into his bed with him. You’ve done it before, sure, but this time it’s a little different. You curl in close to him, trailing tiny little kisses across his face, and he holds you tight to him. Eventually, when he rolls over to spoon you and tighten one arm around your waist, you feel one of his hands start to drift over your arm, fingers tracing letters into your skin.
i love you, he spells out again and again, until you feel like the words are almost burned into your skin. You love it, though. There’s nowhere you’d rather be right now.
“I love you too,” you whisper as he rests his head against your shoulder (you don’t let yourself dwell too long on how close his face is to your neck right now, a massive sign of trust amongst your species). And he lets out the tiniest little humming noise as he slowly starts to drift off to sleep.