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He stares the other violetblood down, fangs bared and all. Being a seadweller, they're pretty small, but it's— he's still actually impressive.
Imperious even, menacing. This is what Dualscar must have looked like, you catch yourself thinking, and immediately scold yourself inwardly for this stupid thought. Yet you can't help it. You don't even know why you're finding all of this sexy, why the fuck would you ever think his ancestor was... sexy, but here you are.
You can never let him know of this.
“Oh yeah? Would you like to find out for yourself?” Eridan says and it pulls you out of your thoughts. Being so lost in them you weren't listening to what the stranger was saying, now you wish you had been.
The violetblood gives him a shove and he stumbles backwards a couple steps, then he starts to laugh. “That's all? That's it? That's all you—”
Eridan doesn't get to finish the sentence because he gets punched square in the face. He sways, his hand on his jaw and with the most indignantly astonished look you've ever seen, but to your surprise, he stands his ground. You didn't really think he had that in him. You're glad he's not wearing his glasses though, the vain fuck. That could've ended very badly.
They just stare at each other again for a second, and before anyone even knows what's going on, they're at each other's throats.
“Oh my fucking god,” you utter, covering your eyes by shoving up your glasses. You think about using psionics to stop them fighting, but before you can decide, it's over and Eridan has the other guy uselessly struggling against his chokehold.
You're not sure what you expected, because really, Eridan looks anything but weak, but is that person actually physically weaker than him?
Taking a couple steps closer, you can hear Eridan say to him in a low growl, “I could snap your neck right now an not even break a sweat.”
A shiver runs down your spine. You know that he's dead serious about it. The other violetblood must be thinking that too, ceasing to struggle. How the fuck did this escalate like this? Should you call him to reason or something? You're too shocked to do anything but stand there and stare.
“You'd like to leave now, don't you,” Eridan adds in the same tone, not actually a question. Guess you don't have to do anything. Thank fuck. He harshly lets go of the stranger after a moment, and the guy wastes no time to head to the exit.
As you watch him disappear, you have to commend that seadweller for not completely pissing himself. You think you would have if you weren't a psionic. But you don't know what it's like to never have been one, so there’s that.
People who had gathered around you to watch begin to disperse as well, you and Eridan turning to each other. You expected him to gloat now and go on about how great he is and how he really showed 'em, but he just stands there, looking... quietly angry, almost upset.
The tension you were feeling leaves you and you close the remaining distance to him. Somehow, you can't resist the urge to touch his cheek, but you're not sure what for. A calming gesture (and who is it supposed to calm?), or are you worried about him? His expression softens at you doing this, and you gently wipe the blood off his split lower lip with your thumb. “What the hell, Eridan,” you ask, but it's soft, too.
When he looks at you, his brow furrows again. “The asshole called you a mustardblood,” he hisses, sounding so utterly scandalized that you have to laugh out loud.
“I know someone else who does that.” You snort.
“Yeah? Well at least I don't go around askin people how much for a night with ‘their mustardblood’.”
Abruptly, your smile drops, because yeah that's pretty gross if it's true (why wouldn't it be?), but then you smirk at him. “You wouldn't give a shit if it were any other mustardblood.”
“So?” he snaps.
Your smirk gets broader. “So I guess I should feel flattered that you're pissing on your territory?”
“I wasn't— That's not—”
You chortle at his flustered babbling, then sigh and take his hand. “Let's just go. I've had enough of this place for one night.”
He's asked you to walk for a bit and you've decided to humor him, but he keeps his distance behind you, hands in his pockets, seeming morose. You slow down to be next to him, because walking a few feet apart wasn't what this was supposed to be about. You can just tell that he wants to say something too, but doesn't know how.
Before you can ask, he blurts out, “Are you mad at me now.”
You shrug. “Why would I be mad at you for some random ass person being gross.”
“I mean with the whole gettin into a fight an whatnot an then you wanted to leave an.” He pauses to take a breath and let it out in a deep sigh. “I've ruined it haven't I.”
“You haven't ruined anything,” you reassure him.
Looking at his profile for a while, you quietly enjoy how pretty he is. With another shrug, you add, “Maybe that wasn't about me at all. Maybe they were just trying some spades shit with you.”
He makes a disgusted noise and a face to go with it.
It's so Eridan-like you have to grin. “See. So it wouldn't have been worth snapping any necks, would it.”
“So you are mad at me.”
You sigh. “No I'm not. Listen, it's a shit idea to resolve conflict that way, even without the casual murder which by the way is extremely illegal in this world, but I— I have to admit that you weren't... not hot in that moment.” You pause to glance at him, and he pretends that it didn't even register with him what you just said, but the faintest touch of violet on his cheeks tells you otherwise. “Besides, I wasn't that keen on hanging out at that place to begin with. This is much nicer.”
He snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer.
After a long while of walking in silence like that, he says, “Sollux.”
“Yeah?”
Stopping, and you do as well, he stares off into the distance for a moment.
“I would kill for you.” He turns to look into your eyes. “And I fucking mean it.”
You stare back at him, eyes wide. Where the fuck did this come from? But once again, you know with absolute certainty that he's absolutely serious, underlined by his deliberate enunciation of letters that he normally slurs. As if he needed to make it any clearer. It gives you goosebumps like nothing ever has before.
Eridan, at the best of times, is relentless. You don't think anyone has actually ever seen the worst, meteor and all.
“I don't want you to do that,” you say quietly, your brows drawing together. “And sure as hell not over something that stupid.”
“I know,” he replies. “An I won't.” He turns away again, but briefly looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, muttering, “Not over something that stupid anyway.”
Taking a breath, you just stand there with your mouth open in startled exasperation for a moment. This asshole is unbelievable. “I don't want you to do it at all, Eridan!”
“I'm not makin promises I can't keep.”
You turn to him fully. “You fucking—”
Before you can say any more, he pulls you into his arms and kisses you.
As your arms find their way around his neck and you close your eyes, everything but his lips on yours fading from relevance, his taste and his smell and how his body feels against yours all you care to know, you feel like maybe you just don't really give a shit, after all.