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“Porphy?” Slate peered into Porphy’s cabin, knocking a few times on their open door, eyes sweeping across the tidy interior. A beat passed, and Porphy’s head poked out from a room straight to the back - probably the kitchen. They smiled and moved to welcome them.
“Hi, Slate!” Ever cheerful in their greetings, Porphy quickly bounded over while wiping their hands on their apron. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Grinning, they bowed their head slightly, their pleasantries causing Slate to glance away.
“I wanted to test a new engine prototype out, and usually Felds or Gossan joins me, but they’re both busy, and I know you mentioned liking my ships, so I thought…” Slate found themself rambling a bit, and lost steam near the end, hoping they had said enough to get their request across. Truthfully, only Feldspar was busy, Slate just didn’t want to deal with Gossan today.
“Ooh, a new engine? When are you testing it?” Porphy’s eyes lit up, similar to how Feldspar’s would when anything with fire power was discussed, but there was something a little different about it. Slate couldn’t put their finger on it.
“Whenever I want to, I guess. Just need to let Hornfels know.” Slate shrugged, still having a hard time maintaining eye contact with Porphy. Their eyes were always a little too mesmerizing to be stared at for long.
“Mmm, and you want me to join you? Can you give me a minute and I’ll be ready?” Porphy shifted their weight, hand on their chin as they glanced into their cabin. The warm smells of something earthy being boiled was now wafting through the open door and reaching Slate’s nose. It made Slate more than a little hungry, unable to recall when exactly their last meal was.
“Sure.” Without another word, but with a soft smile, Porphy slipped back into their cabin and slid the door shut.
Unceremoniously dropping to sit on Porphy’s front steps, Slate busied themself by contacting Hornfels via radio. It was just a short conversation - if it could even be called that - of Slate confirming with Hornfels that they would be testing soon. Hornfels barely said more than a few words, rarely one for small talk when in the middle of something.
With Hornfels adequately informed, Slate attempted to settle on the crooked stairs, but struggled. Feeling their nerves spark at their fingertips, Slate rubbed a hand down their arm, glancing back at Porphy’s front door. Slate still wasn’t entirely sure this was a good idea. They assumed inviting a civilian to watch the test would be okay - it’s not like Porphy would have to do anything. Slate just needed someone to supervise in case something went wrong and they needed to be hauled back to the village in (hopefully) one piece. However, they were more than a little nervous about being alone with each other.
It’s not like they didn’t enjoy spending time alone with Porphy, it was just that ever since they started… ‘seeing’ each other, things had been strange. Porphy was a lot more obvious in their affections than Slate was used to, and they found themself ducking their head a lot when Porphy was around. They’d slip flirts in between sentences with the same smoothness they cut vegetables with, which left Slate wondering how much was genuine and how much was just how Porphy talked. They couldn’t help the way they’d squeak when Porphy’s hand would suddenly find theirs when they were just walking through the village together. Every raised brow the others threw their way only made Slate want to shrink further into their overalls, despite the small smiles Porphy would shoot their way.
At that, their door swung open again, Porphy stepping out in the clothes they had been wearing, sans their apron. A picnic basket was hanging from the crook in their elbow, perfectly perched on their hip. “Sorry to keep you waiting, it’s okay if I bring lunch?” they spoke as they held out their hand, pulling Slate to their feet again. Once eye level, Slate was hit by the sweet scent surrounding them - they were wearing perfume? To an engine test?
“That’s fine. The testing area is just outside the crater,” Slate explained, deciding to ignore the whole perfume thing - if they wanted to smell nice, who was Slate to stop them?
“Lead the way, dear.” Like clockwork, Porphy slipped their hand into Slate’s, their eyes lidded just enough to force Slate to look away. Part of Slate wanted to pull away, maintain professional distance during this professional outing, but another part couldn’t bear to see any look of hurt in Porphy’s eyes if they did so. They let their hand stay where it was, pushing the embarrassment in their throat down a little deeper as they led them away from their home.
“Tell me more about this engine test.” Porphy started, voice light as always, not 20 steps from their cabin. At the very least, this was an easy thing for Slate to talk about.
“I’ve been trying to find ways to decrease the amount of fuel our current engines use so our pilots aren’t refueling as often.” Slate almost always had some project happening in the background of their regular work. This fuel focused improvement was just the most recent on their laundry list of goals. “It really may just be something I have to work on with the entire ship, since lighter ship parts means less fuel spent accelerating, but I still need to test if this new engine design works.” Slate only glanced at Porphy every now and then to ensure they were listening, but during every glance Porphy’s eyes were solely focused on them.
“Neat!” They squeezed Slate’s hand in tandem with the word. “What else have you been working on?” They bumped shoulders, and Slate’s mind momentarily paused, not expecting a follow up question to their explanation.
“Mmm, well I’m always having to work on someone’s ship, regular maintenance and such. Still working on the next major model upgrade…” They trailed off, unsure how to describe the more intricate details of their work to a layperson. How much did Porphy even know about their ships? Did they want to know more, and that was why they were asking? Slate felt a bit invigorated by that thought - not many people seemed interested in their work. “I am excited to get the retro rockets working - it’ll save all that fuel that’s used in course correction, and it’ll make piloting so much- What?” Slate cut themself off with the question, off-put by the way Porphy was hiding their mouth like they were about to laugh. At the question their hand dropped, a wide smile on their lips.
“Oh, nothing! I just love seeing how passionate you are about your ships, sweetheart.” The genuine affection in their voice caused Slate to lower their eyes, hoping Porphy wouldn’t notice the way their cheeks flushed. Slate really should’ve predicted a compliment would be thrown their way sooner or later - Porphy rarely spoke for long without slipping something in. A soft giggle escaped from Porphy’s lips, and Slate could only turn further away. “Don’t be shy, you can keep talking! How’s the new model?”
Slate took a moment to find their thoughts, attempting to ignore the way Porphy’s words always managed to get under their skin. “…It’s still in its early designs - the other founders have to approve everything at this stage, so it’s slow going because getting them all to agree on something can be difficult.” Difficult was a bit of an understatement when it came to certain things. Sometimes Slate wondered how they ever managed to get Feldspar into space at all, what with how many things all of them couldn’t agree on
“I didn’t realize they were so involved,” Porphy marveled, and Slate felt a scoff on the tip of their tongue that they swallowed.
“Well, yeah, it’s their program too, can’t have me going rogue and building poorly designed ships.” Slate spoke as they climbed the steeper curve of the crater’s paths, the route ahead snaking out and over the walls surrounding them. Despite the incline, Porphy still managed to keep up with them, their hand securely tucked into Slate’s.
“You would never!” Porphy joked, and without even turning around Slate could hear the small smile in their voice.
“Never,” Slate confirmed with a solid nod, smile finding their lips despite themself.
“You’re so cute,” Porphy keened, and Slate sputtered, nearly tripping over their own feet. They glanced at Porphy, wide eyed, who just continued to smile back as if they had just asked how the weather was.
Being called cute was something Slate rarely experienced, if ever. Being taller than most, reclusive and stubborn, and almost always in the middle of some labor intensive project - it didn’t scream cute to Slate. They wanted to argue back, ask what’s so cute about them anyway, but knew from experience that this was akin to getting Feldspar started on one of their stories and would not end well for Slate’s health.
They gave a nervous hum and continued walking, pointedly ignoring the small giggle Porphy did not try to subdue.
The testing area was only a few further steps from the crater’s edge - far enough to not disturb the peace, close enough that any incidents could be dealt with swiftly. The engine was propped up, positioned on top of the least flammable material Slate owned, and attached to a nearby test rocket. A long cord stretched out from the engine, attaching the control panel from a relatively safe distance away. The whole setup was a bit unstable for long term use, but since they planned to use it only a few times, it would have to do.
At the sight of the engine, Porphy spoke, “Oh, you already brought it out here?” They glanced between Slate and the engine, lips twisted in a way Slate wasn’t familiar with.
“Yeah, last night.” If possible, Slate always opted for moving heavier parts during the evening. It was already difficult moving them on their own, but add the sun beating down on their back, and it was pure torture.
“Aw, next time you should’ve told me, I’d love to see you use your muscles, sweetheart.” Slate froze - that had to be a flirt, right? Those words combined with the small smile on Porphy’s lips couldn’t mean anything else. Slate was still unsure how to respond to those kinds of statements, so they pretended they hadn’t froze at all.
“You should stand back for the test, maybe behind that tree.” As they spoke, Slate slipped their hand out of Porphy’s, using it to point at a nearby tree while they headed for the control panel. Porphy hesitated for a moment before taking their advice, slipping behind the tree yet still keeping their focus on the other the entire time. Pulling their mask down - just in case of any flying projectiles - Slate picked up the control panel and surveyed the area.
Although they had done similar tests multiple times in the past, with company far pushier than Porphy, Slate couldn’t help feeling a little nervous knowing they were watching. They weren’t sure why - it wasn’t like Porphy would even really know if something went wrong (unless it went really wrong) and Slate wasn’t even doing anything that spectacular in the first place. A simple engine test would be beyond boring to most Hearthians. Yet, Porphy’s eyes boring into Slate’s back was making it difficult for them to think straight.
Eventually, Slate managed to get their hands to cooperate, and flipped on the engine’s switch. They listened closely for any stuttering or idling issues, and when nothing was apparent, they slowly raised the power level, watching the rocket’s reaction. The flames licking the air steadily grew as Slate turned the dial, the noise growing with it. This would probably be the coolest part to Porphy - they had mentioned in the past enjoying the sounds of the ships’ rockets, and while this was less extreme, Slate still hoped they’d enjoy it.
They couldn’t stop themself from glancing back at the other, telling themself it was just to make sure they were still safe, but quickly turning back around when they met Slate’s eyes with theirs. That stupid look on their face - Slate felt their face heat up, deciding to blame it on the rocket’s fire.
After a few more minutes of focusing solely on the engine in front of them and not the silent presence behind them, Slate let the rocket spool down and shut the engine off. Overall, the test was successful, but the new engine was lacking a bit in the fire power department - a consistent issue Slate found.
“Okay, it’s over,” Slate called out, pulling their mask up as they carefully collected the control panel’s wiring. Prophy seemed a bit hesitant to leave their spot, but then they were walking over, lip unturned in a pout.
“Aw, really? That was it?” Slate paused, raising a brow at the disappointment in their voice as a flash of frustration hit them. Even though they knew it wouldn’t be flashy, a part of them had still been hoping Porphy would like it.
“What do you mean ‘that was it’? I just needed to turn it on and test the power.” They nearly rolled their eyes, their defensiveness worming its way into their thoughts. Crossing their arms they turned to Porphy, who only shrugged.
“I dunno, I was expecting something cooler, I guess.” They spoke light, as if they wanted to smile or laugh but was holding back. Slate got the feeling that maybe Porphy was just messing with them, but they couldn’t be sure.
“It was just an engine test, Porphy,” Slate deadpanned, not wanting to be pulled into any games.
“I know that!” Now it seemed it was Porphy’s turn to get defensive, as they gestured with their hands, far more animated than usual. Their picnic basket swayed on their arm.
“Well, that was all, you can go home now.” Now Slate would need to document the tests completion and findings, and figure out if they should move the engine back to their workshop, or keep working on it here. Porphy, however, quickly cut their thoughts short.
“What? You’re not going to have lunch with me?” They sounded genuinely surprised - not the sort of teasing question they’d sometimes slip Slate’s way.
“Oh, you packed me something, too?” Slate glanced between the basket and its owner. Porphy smiled, jutting their hip to lightly bounce the basket.
“Of course, silly, come eat with me,” Porphy spoke smoothly, turning towards a gathering of trees without waiting for Slate’s response. Slate followed along as requested, curious about what Porphy had made for them. They had again forgotten about their earlier hunger, but felt it return at the prospect of getting to taste some of Porphy’s cooking.
This clearly was not the first time Porphy had set up a picnic lunch; they put aside their basket, unfurled and smoothed out their blanket, set out eating utensils and food, all in about five minutes total. Slate had offered their help but was quickly shushed and shown how to do things properly. Once finished, Porphy began filling both their plates before Slate could stop them, sitting awkwardly to their side. As they handed their plate over, Porphy took advantage of Slate’s distracted state by leaning in, stealing a quick kiss from their lips before they could react. A strangled noise unwillingly left Slate’s throat, and Porphy responded with their own light laugh.
Typically, Porphy would make all sorts of stews, broths, and soups. Today, though, it seemed they had opted for more solid foods, a mixture of seasoned vegetables alongside grilled fish. Slate muttered their thanks before slowly taking a bite, recalling as much knowledge they had about table manners as possible. Porphy was sure to notice if their etiquette was lacking.
“What kind of food do you like, dear?” Porphy asked, holding up their fork full of fish as they leaned their body to the side. Even the way they sat was elegant; legs together, bent past the curve of their hip, as they held their body up on one arm. In comparison, Slate felt a bit silly sitting straight on their ass, long legs stretching out in front of them.
“Mmm,” Slate hummed around a mouth full of food, quickly swallowing to respond. “This is good, I like this.” They held their plate towards Porphy, and the other stifled a laugh.
“You don’t have a favorite meal? A favorite flavor?” Porphy smiled, tilting their head the other way as they spoke. Slate focused back on their plate, not wanting to dwell too long on how Porphy’s smile was making them feel.
“Never really thought about it,” Slate muttered, finger picking at a loose thread on their overalls.
“Mmm,” Porphy’s hum was soft, weighing what Slate had said in their mind. After a moment they continued, “Well, you should know my favorite flavor by now.”
Porphy’s voice dipped a little too deeply and rose a little too lightly for their statement to be anything other than flirtatious. When combined with the small wink they shot their way - Slate bit their cheek, suddenly very interested at inspecting the pattern quilted into the blanket. Try as they might, they couldn’t stop the flush from finding their face, nor stop the way their thoughts stuttered to find any sort of response. After a silence that lasted a bit too long, Porphy hummed again, leaning forward. Slate leaned away.
“Something the matter, dear?” Porphy’s voice was as light as ever, but Slate could still tell there was a tilt of concern behind it. They set their plate to the side, nerves causing their hands to seek solace in their pockets as they wrangled a response from their racing thoughts.
“You… you don’t have to do that, all the time, you know?” Slate hated the way their voice wavered, clearly giving way to how Porphy’s words made them feel. Their eyes darted to the other’s face, checking that their words still arrived - Porphy’s brow knit.
“Do what?” They thankfully dropped the tone in their voice that made it difficult for Slate to think straight.
“Talk to me like that - all sweet and stuff,” Slate waved their hand around as they spoke, attempting to gesture to all the little candied words Porphy had slid their way.
Porphy paused, mouth slightly agape as their eyes narrowed, then they leaned back, confusion lacing their voice, “…This is just how I talk, do you not realize?”
“No, it’s not!” Slate argued, voice low but forceful. “You’re way nicer to me than you were before. You keep calling me sweetheart, and flirting with me, and touching me when other people are around!” As Slate spoke, something changed behind Porphy’s eyes, and they slid close, free hand coming up to hide the laugh behind their lips.
“Because I like you more now, silly,” Porphy sang, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. They leaned their weight closer, eyes twinkling, “And I do those things to people I like.”
“Mmm,” Slate hummed, hesitant, as they took in Porphy’s small smile. “I just don’t know how you want me to respond - when you’re sweet all the time.” Slate had debated it a few times - return their flirts with attempts of their own? Thank them? Ignore them? None of their options seemed very suitable and left them feeling like they had done something wrong.
“Aw, sorry dear, maybe I come on a bit strong sometimes.” Porphy brought a hand to their own cheek, leaning into it as they made a pained face. “We can go slow if you want?”
“Just- just when we’re in public.” Maybe someday Slate would get used to the way their heart would race whenever Porphy was sweet to them in front of others, but they weren’t sure that day would be soon.
“Okay!” Porphy agreed smoothly, and Slate felt the building tension in their chest drop slightly. “What about when we’re alone together?” The tension quickly returned, as well as a flush to their cheeks.
“You’re just asking that to embarrass me…” For all the ways Porphy made them blush, Slate was getting pretty good at telling when they meant to and when it was just a happy accident.
“Maybe,” Porphy admitted, not a hint of malice in their voice but a fair bit of teasing. A chord of seriousness slid into their tone as they continued, “But I really do want to know - I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
In contrast to the way Porphy’s words usually affected Slate, this statement left their chest feeling a bit too tight. It took them a moment to fully recall what the question had even been. “You, uh, it's okay, if we’re alone,” they muttered, pointedly ignoring the way Porphy’s smile widened as they gave a small nod.
They lapsed into comfortable silence, and Slate allowed themself to breathe, picking up their plate to finish Porphy’s meal. Chewing on their words as well as the lovingly prepared food, Slate felt a bit more relieved about their whole thing with Porphy. At an exhale that was a bit more obvious than they realized, Porphy giggled, setting down their empty plate as they leaned back.
“Y’know, even though nothing all that cool happened, this was a fun date, thanks for inviting me out.” Porphy flashed Slate a grin, head on their shoulder with the ties of their badana falling behind their ear. Slate blinked a few times before their brow furrowed.
“What?”
“This was fun, thanks for inviting me!” Porphy repeated, sitting up and smoothing out their shirt.
“No- no I heard you,” Slate clarified, and Porphy met their confused stare with a look of their own. “Was this a date?”
“Uh, I thought so. Was it not supposed to be?” Porphy pursed their lips, and Slate’s mind stuttered - this had been a date to them all along?
“Oh,” was all they managed to blurt out.
“You’re so adorable - you didn’t think this was a date?” Porphy’s lips twisted in that way that felt a little too close to pity, causing Slate to raise a hand to their chest in defense.
“I was just doing my job! I didn’t think this was very romantic.”
“Well, it was, because I like seeing you work, and I like being alone with you.” Porphy began cleaning off their plate, eyes lowered as they worked but the ghost of a smile still on their lips.
Slate didn’t know what to say to that, so they just looked away, mind replaying the past hour. They supposed this was pretty similar to a date, not that they’d ever been on many of those.
“Next time you should explode something for me, though,” Porphy cut through their thoughts, exaggerating the end of their statement by dropping their plate into their basked, pout on their lips.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”