Work Text:
" Cowboy dan's a major player in the cowboy scene, he—
Goes to the reservation, drinks and gets mean, he—
Goes to the desert, fires a rifle in the sky, and says:
'GOD, if I have to die, you will have to die!'"
—
for FUCK'S sake, i hate you.
not just because of your big dumb smile, or your clumsy legs, or your dense brain, or your loud mouth—no, it's the words that come out of that loud mouth.
that attention, that care, i am supposed to bask in it, am i not? after all, i am above you. i am above all.
yet, with you, it makes me feel something different.
and the only sensible emotion that it translates to in my mind is fury.
you let those words roll off of your tongue like they weigh nothing. you let me rest against your warmth as tears stream down my face.
it is nothing if not mockery.
you don't praise me, you fake care like it'll make me change my mind about you. you manage to constantly find me in my most vulnerable moments and you just sit there. acting like you're trying to help make me feel better.
if i wanted help, i certainly wouldn't get it from you.
. . .
—
". . .pr3ty?"
bluudud approached his bedside with quiet, cautious footsteps, blinking warily at pr3typriincess' sleeping form.
She was bunched up, hugging herself tightly as if trying to hide from the world itself. Her claws were unsheathed, dug into the blue quilt that covered half of her body.
Some could claim she was simply cold. After all, it didn't get very warm in this realm. But for some odd reason—bluudud knew better.
Any other night, she'd be sprawled out across the bed with her mouth parted in a purposefully impolite way.
. . . Even if she was okay, it would make sense to wake her. It was past noon, bluudud had been sitting in his super-awesome gaming chair for the past hour while she slept just a few feet away from him.
He couldn't be more glad no one bothered to check up on him. But, just in case, he had the door locked. And he never left.
With a deep inhale, bluudud leaned onto the bedside, crawling to sit on his knees beside pr3typriincess. The bed creaked softly beneath his weight, the noise against the silence of the room only fueling the discomfort he already felt.
He was hesitant to reach out, to call her name again, to wake her at all.
But as he got close enough to hear, her shaky breathing urged him to before he could pull away.
He reached forward to place a hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle shake that was barely containing urgency. "pr3ty," he spoke again, brows furrowing the longer he stared.
He shook her again, and—he nearly flinched back as pr3typriincess woke with a sudden, startled jolt and a gasp that sounded almost pained.
"Are—. . . are you okay?" he stammered, uncertainty and worry quickly making his mind race as he drew away from her, fidgeting with his claws.
Her back faced him, but the gentle sound of bluudud's voice alone sent her glaring ahead at the blue wall that looked far too hazy in her clouded vision.
A stupid question.
Only he would dare to ask that.
"I'm fine," she croaked, blinking too suddenly as she realized the tightness of her own throat. ". . . Dipshit," she hissed, quieter.
bluudud's frown deepened, arms lowering to his sides.
She didn't sound fine, let alone look fine. But if he dared to try to help, he might just get his hand bitten off.
. . . You know, maybe he could deal with that, Azure could just make him a prosthetic so he could still game, and voilà!
Right.
He didn't know why he didn't care.
—or maybe a better question would be, why he did care.
Maybe a better question would be why he's sitting up against the headboard, arms wrapped around pr3typriincess as she sobbed into his chest.
But as he rubbed a claw against the back of her head, as he heard her pitiful cries and sniffles, and as she wet his fur with her tears, he didn't care about the "why"s.
It almost didn't feel strange anymore, not after the nights they'd spend together. Even though they spent the majority of their days snapping at each other and spitting insults at one another's faces, there was the occasion that they could end up like this.
And it meant more to him than anything ever could. He just couldn't figure out that one "why." But it always pressed.
pr3typriincess didn't often get like this.
She could be grumpy, sure. But this isn't grumpy. To anyone else, it could be—but somehow, he could push past that hard shell of hers enough for her to let her fearful tears drench his fur.
He learned recently that she suffered from not only repetitive nightmares, but hallucinations as well.
Often times, they didn't get that bad, so she never spoke about them. But she'd be left with pressing headaches, hazy vision, and claw marks ruining the surrounding furniture.
bluudud could only assume she didn't want anyone to know because she hated being in such a vulnerable state. She always wanted to uphold her title, to look down upon everyone she saw as unworthy. Not to her level of perfection.
So to prove that she herself is "imperfect" with what she experiences and the outbursts of anger stemming from fear it leads to her having, he could only imagine how much she'd hate opening up about it.
She only did because of how much bluudud found her in such a distressed state. It was the only thing she could say.
Within mere minutes, pr3typriincess began to snore softly, muffled by bluudud's fur as she clung loosely to him.
Asleep, again. An hour into the afternoon.
bluudud sighed softly, it wasn't like he could judge—he was practically known by the cabin for sleeping until past noon.
But as he glanced down at pr3typriincess, now quieted in her sleep, he felt a warmth prickle at his face. . . . Undeniably familiar, when it came to her, yet no less uncomfortable. His arms loosened around her, giving her room to slump down more comfortably against him. But her arms stayed wrapped around his own torso, unmoving, despite the desperation they once acted with being calmed.
The warmth of pr3typriincess, mixed with his own which increased by the second, it dared to feel like too much.
But bluudud wanted to welcome it, just this once. No matter how foreign the emotions he felt were, he wanted to let himself bask in the warmth he felt. The happiness that seeped into his small, gentle smile.
As his breathing slowed to match hers, his head dipped, eyes closing with contentment.
—
. . .
so tell me, please, why do you persist, acting like you care?
do you have something to gain, seeing me suffer?
why, bluudud?
why do you make me feel so strange?