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The morning is an uneventful one. Every morning has been uneventful since the players won the game and you were bestowed a new, softer vessel. That was just over a week ago, but you’re certain you have enough data to claim that every day as a human is way less interesting than how you spent them as a robot.
You are currently lounging on the Crockers' couch upside down, feet comfortably resting above you and your outstretched ears almost touching the floor. Today you have opted for the t-shirt you spawned in (blue baseball-pattern sleeves with a graphic of a similarly colored hat) and a pair of shorts Jane has long since outgrown (with plenty of pockets for hiding things). Perfect for the cool April breeze, if you desire to go outside.
A nature documentary is playing on the television in front of you. You’ve been trying to learn about this new world now that you are something like the average inhabitant. It’s interesting to compare your limited knowledge of the previous one to the newly christened Earth C.
You’re in the middle of a yawn when something in the window catches your eye. You recognize the glint of sharp sunglasses that match yours. Your creator is apparently over for a visit.
He’s trying to search inside the house, failing to keep his antsy head movements within his cool and apathetic performance.
TT: (\_/)
TT: Oh, hello, Huggy Bear.
TT: Can you let me in? I need to borrow something from Jane.
TT: Jane said nobody is allowed inside while she and Mr. Crocker are away. ₍ᐢ- ̞ - ᐢ₎
TT: I just need her hand mixer. I promise she’ll get it back.
TT: Please, Huggy Bear.
TT: Look, I just pulled out the magic word. Does my wizardry compel you to comply? Do I need to increase my pixie dust consumption?
TT: HB, I can see you ignoring me through the window.
TT: Is there a reason you won’t call me Sebastian?
TT: Sorry.
TT: Please, Li'l Sebastian?
TT: ₍ᐢ ￢x ￢ ᐢ₎
You brace your arms, swing your legs, and flip off the couch. A puffed out chest of pride accompanies the perfect landing. You turn to the door and don’t see Dirk at the window anymore.
His spiky blond hair and a bit of his forehead peek through the small window in the door. You can see the tops of his shades bounce into view as you fiddle with the locks.
The goal is not to actually let him inside; you still have a duty to uphold the sanctity of your territory. Dirk is too stubborn to just take “no” for an answer, though.
You jam yourself between the door and the frame the moment you get it unlocked and cracked open, blocking Dirk as he tries to worm around you. You flick the lock on the doorknob and try to shove him on your way out, but he’s got a hand on your head that almost knocks you off balance. You get him in the knees with your hip and slam the door shut.
You whirl around and outstretch a hand just in front of his stomach, the other resting confidently on your side. You are a successful guard-bunny.
“Huggy-” Dirk catches himself, “Seb, what gives? Was that adorable emoticon not implying your reluctant cooperation?”
“No,” you tell him out loud to get him to understand the weight of your stance.
TT: No one is allowed inside. ₍ᐢ v ̞ v ᐢ₎
He gives a long, low sigh, “I’ll just be in and out, okay? I’ll be so fast, you’ll just think a stray breeze trickled in from an accidentally cracked window, already out the door before you can notice a few strands of your hair out of place. My footsteps will be so soft, they'll sound like a skittering squeakbeast you forgot was taking refuge in your walls. My procurement so deliberate, you won’t even-”
You nudge your hand into the soft flesh of his core and cut his monologue short.
Dirk backs up and crosses his arms, “Fine. Is there anything I can do to bargain my way in?”
You squint up at him.
TT: You may have the mixer…
TT: If you take me out for ice cream. =:3
“Let me guess, payment’s up front?” he cocks his head.
You nod and cross your arms in mimicry.
“Okay, come here,” he bends down with another sigh.
He grabs your shoulder and urges you to turn around, then wraps his arms around your torso before securely picking you up. He’s surprisingly strong for how thin he is, which makes for a rather stiff grip. He’s also wearing a tank top so you can feel his sweat seeping onto you.
He braces himself for just a moment before quickly rising into the sky.
—
You haven’t flown since the first day here, and you can hardly remember it on account of other new developments taking priority in your processing power. That is to say, it’s not very fun to be very suddenly granted a flesh suit and unexpectedly transported by unfamiliar means.
This ride, however, is very fun. You can feel how the wind tousles your hair, brushes against your cheeks, flutters under your shirt, and many more things that you never experienced when your skin was metal. It’s all fresh and strange and exhilarating, something that actually rises in your chest.
You can see almost every building ever from this height. Logically, you know that isn’t true. But your limited experience outside of exploring Jane’s house and planet makes it hard to believe how much more there is outside.
Wait, how far is Dirk taking you?
You wriggle in his grasp, trying to turn and face him. Dirk just makes a sound of annoyance and squeezes you tighter into position.
“Quit moving, Seb. I’m not trying to test your durability today,” he grumbles.
TT: I’m plenty durable! =X<
“I know from firsthand experience that your tiny human body is very breakable, and right now it’s my job to keep your flesh from splatting on the sidewalk. Stay put.”
You huff in annoyance and go limp in his arms. You’ve dipped your head so low you can see your sneakers.
TT: Fine.
TT: I was trying to ask how much longer until we arrive. ₍ᐢ= ̞ =ᐢ₎
“You did not just say ‘Are we there yet?’ with my vocabulary,” Dirk lets out a stuttery exhale, as if he’s about to laugh, “Look, you can see the sign from here. Be patient.”
You give a short noise and pout, but otherwise keep quiet. It’s fascinating to watch people go about their day from this height. They weren’t kidding when they said they look like ants.
—
The bell that greets you to the inside of the ice cream parlor is startling. Dirk looks back down at you as you almost trip over the bottom sill of the door. You recover in a heartbeat and scurry ahead of him, trying not to look embarrassed.
Inside the store is rather small, only offering a handful of seating options. There’s only a few feet of space until you are met with the counter and cashier. You make eye contact with the girl working behind the desk and she gives you a short, friendly wave. You hesitantly raise your hand in return.
Dirk saunters ahead, oozing confidence with his hands in his pockets, and actually greets the employee.
You walk over to investigate the ice cream selection just as he’s doing. Your chin just barely surpasses the counter which makes it very hard to discern the different flavors. Not even tiptoes can help your vantage point.
Apparently, Dirk notices, and you are picked up without warning. You pull your ears back and glare at him as he rests you on his hip.
TT: I’m perfectly capable of looking for myself =XO
All you get in return is a raised eyebrow.
You huff because you don’t want to admit that Dirk is actually being helpful. Complementing splinters is Not a Thing, as far as you’re aware.
You return your focus to the mesmerizing multi-colored array of ice cream and try to decide which one looks the best. You twitch your metal ears as you read each one: Cookies and Cream, German Chocolate, Strawberry, Mint Chocolate Chip… What’s in Rocky Road? You continue searching until something delightful catches your eye.
Birthday Cake is a bright blue. Blue like your metal chassis, blue like the ocean, blue like Jane!
You excitedly tap the glass in the direction of the cyan dessert and get the attention of the employee.
“What would you like?” she asks warmly as she grabs a scooper from behind the display.
“Birthday Cake!” you all but squeal at the young woman.
Dirk jostles you, mouthing the word “please” when you look over to him. You return to the worker and she giggles when you also mouth “please” to her.
“And I’ll have an Orange Sherbet, in a cup, please,” Dirk tells her.
You’re set back down as the employee fixes your frozen treats. She takes out a paper cup from somewhere below her and starts scooping Dirk’s neon orange dairy mound, then hands it over to Dirk who moves over to wait in front of the register.
Next is your turn, and you can’t help but bounce on your toes as she grabs a large waffle cone while her spoon gets rinsed off. She crowns the cone with a hearty serving of blue ice cream, then wraps the bottom in a napkin.
She hands your order to you and points above her head, smiling, “I like your ears.”
You nod once and slowly draw said ears back, a warmth crawling across your face. You try to hide behind your ice cream tower and scamper away over to the seating area. You don’t wait for Dirk to finish paying to pick out a booth in the far corner of the store, which isn’t very far away, unfortunately.
What was that!? Why did your face feel so weird? You can only hope that it didn’t look weird. You know running off like a coward made you seem weird. Ugh, stop being weird, Seb!
Nobody’s so much as mentioned you having cybernetic rabbit ears in your short time here. You suppose it makes sense, seeing as the small group of people you interact with knew of your previous form. They’re hardly anything to gawk at when Jasprose came back almost exactly the same – sans full-body strobe lights, so you’ve been told. You just hope this isn’t the start of another insecurity piled on to your already full splintered plate.
Your daze is broken when Dirk sits down across from you. He’s already eaten a third of his cup while you’ve just been staring at melting ice cream.
“Wow. I didn’t think you were capable of expressing that much emotion. Already blowing my abilities out of the water, huh?” he smirks with his spoon pointed at you.
You frown at him and slowly bring your dessert closer to your face and dramatically lick it.
Ohmygog why didn’t you do that sooner. You continue to consume the cold, sickeningly sweet, and vaguely cake-like flavor with ravenous speed. Small chunks of actual cake are a welcome variation in the texture. You only pause in the destruction of your dessert when somebody comes barrelling in to sit beside you.
“Howwwww’s my best little bunny bro doing, huh?” Hal grabs you in a headlock and it takes all your effort not to choke or smush your ice cream. All you respond with is a small grunt due to the way he’s restricting your airways.
“Hal. Where’s the tracker?” Dirk stares daggers into Hal as he grips the table.
“What? Can I not happen to join my bros on a nice coincidental outing?” (You assume Hal has a shit-eating grin on his face right now.)
“I saw your ass planted firmly on the floor playing Troll Candy Crush when I left the house. Where’s the tracker?”
“Think a little harder. You’re wearing the same shades you always have, right?”
Dirk relaxes so fast his head droops down, “You fucking asshole…”
“Anyways, I still meant what I said. How have you been, Seb?” Hal finally releases you from his grip and shifts to give you some space in the bench.
It’s been a week since you’ve seen Hal. Sure, you’ve been talking to him over Pesterchum, but that’s nothing like talking in person. It appears he’s dyed his hair red.
TT: It appears you’ve dyed your hair red. ₍ᐢ. ̞ . ᐢ₎
“Yeah, I got sick of looking like that douchebag over there,” he flicks his head, “Now that I can help it.”
Dirk scrunches his eyebrows and finishes his bite of sherbet,“Okay, hold on. This is going to get confusing real fast. Seb, open a memo.”
You pull down your ears but otherwise agree. It sucks to be left out of the conversation.
technologicThrianta [TT] opened public bulletin board ICE CREAM BANANA SPLINTER.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TT: How’s this? (\_/)
Both give you silent thumbs up.
Hal opens his mouth to talk when Dirk interrupts.
“Back to the topic of Hal’s hair, he has failed to mention that a major contributing factor was the fact that Dave kept mixing us up and it was hurting his feelings,” he mockingly pouts.
“If that was the reason, why didn’t you dye your hair? I know it bothered you, too,” Hal grimaces and points at Dirk, “You should’ve dyed yours black like the miserable event horizon that consumes your soul.”
Dirk rolls his eyes, “Could you make your solicitations any more obvious?”
“Fuck you!” Hal stands up, “And not like that! I’m ordering ice cream!”
He stomps away, leaving you bewildered and Dirk reclusive.
TT: Hal, please come back. ₍ᐢ >x< ᐢ₎
He doesn’t respond, even though you can see him over at the counter. You’ll just have to wait, then.
Dirk takes an angry bite of orange. You return to nibbling on your cake batter blue.
“I’m glad you’re nothing like me, Huggy Bear,” Dirk whispers after a moment.
You pause and sheepishly draw back your ears.
TT: What. =:<
He clears his throat, then hesitates, “Just… Don’t feel pressured by our bullshit.”
—
After a few minutes, Hal returns cheerful like nothing happened.
“Guess what I got!” he sing-songs.
“I swear if it’s the color red…” Dirk looks to the ceiling.
“A Strawberry~ Shortcake~ Sundae.~” Hal puts a goofy staccato on each word.
Dirk flops his head into his hands, “We’re so fucking predicatable.”
“Did anything interesting happen when I was gone for less than five minutes?” Hal plops his fancy little boat on the table next to you.
You glance over to Dirk who’s pointedly finishing his ice cream and give Hal a quick shake of your head. Hopefully he’s not too suspicious of the “what” you sent in the memo because you do not feel like unpacking any more splinter issues than strictly necessary.
“Fine by me,” he lifts his chin, then lunges for what little is left of your ice cream cone and steals a bite before you can react. You give a small squawk and retaliate by snatching a handful of his unguarded sundae. His mouth is left gaping open to reveal how little he chewed his stolen treat as you taste some of your own.
It only takes him a second to collect himself and swallow, “What the fuck kind of flavor did you order, Seb?”
You hum to yourself while trying to lick off the last of the sticky pink substance on your hand.
TT: Birthday Cake.
TT: It’s blue like Jane. ₍ᐢ^x^ᐢ₎
“Well, that sure did hypothetically taste like the vague description of a cake. How's the strawberry?” he asks, getting ready to attack his dessert.
You hum again, louder this time, and rapidly nod your head.
He ponders a bite of his sundae, then nods, “Apt description, lil bro.”
When you finish the last of your ice cream, Dirk takes your napkin and his bowl, standing up to throw them away, “Seb, wash your hands.”
You pout, but climb out of your seat and onto the table.
“Hey!” Hal defensively grabs his sundae as you hop down. You tilt your head at him. He’s really overreacting; you’re always careful where you place your feet.
“Go! Wash your hands and stop acting like a hyperactive squirrel,” he anxiously waves you away.
You stick your tongue at him and skip off to the restroom. Dirk snickers when you pass by him.
—
Dirk can't fly with two passengers in tow, so the three of you are taking the scenic route back to Jane's house on foot.
It's turning out to be a loooooong walk. You miss the neverending energy of uranium as your tiny legs ache.
You tug on Hal’s shirt and privately send him a message.
TT: Can you carry me? U( -x- )U
“Anything for you, little bro,” Hal stops and bends down so you can climb on his back.
Nothing about the build of a Strider is comfortable, but getting to rest your head on bony shoulders is much better than continuing the trek on your own.
Hal leans over and bumps Dirk’s shoulder, “You're jealous that he likes me better.”
“Not everything is a competition, Hal,” he monotones.
“Only ‘cause you've got that stick up your ass,” Hal mumbles.
They stare at each other for a moment.
“I'm not doing this,” Dirk sighs, speeds up, and floats away.
“Hey! Where are we going, anyways?” Hal shouts up at him.
Dirk, still pissed off, turns around in the air.
“Back to Jane's house,” he smirks, “Don't worry, I'm sure she's forgotten all about your little seppuku incident.”
“No the fuck she hasn't!” Hal freezes and drops you, “There’s no way I can look her in the eye yet!”
You groan as you get up and nurse your bruised behind. Hal unfreezes, bounces from side to side for a moment, and sprints back the way you came.
Dirk returns to your side as you watch Hal disappear between the buildings.
TT: Where is he going?
“I'm not sure.”
You look up at him and he half shrugs.
“Come on,” he says, ruffling your hair, “You owe me a hand mixer.”
You’re hugged against his chest and in the air before you can object. You don’t, but you’d at least like the option.
—
Jane is busy unlocking the door when you touch down in her front lawn. You practically launch yourself from Dirk’s arms to run over and hug her.
“Wha-! Seb? I didn’t even know you were gone!” she startles, “What were you even out for?”
“He twisted my arm into going out for ice cream,” Dirk approaches with a timid hand on the back of his neck.
Jane chuckles and pats your head, “Well, that shouldn’t have been too hard. He’s a very influential rabbit!”
You draw your ears back and nuzzle further into her shirt. You don’t know how to feel about being called just a rabbit. On one hand, it’s comforting to know that Jane still thinks of you as the same loyal robobunny you always were, but on the other, you’re very clearly not anymore.
That train of thought is quickly cut off when Jane finally opens the door and lets both of you in. You immediately cross the living room to plop on the couch, but not before adding a twirl for flourish.
“So, what brings you to my side of town, Strider?” Jane finishes up re-locking the front door.
Dirk coughs, “I wanted to borrow a… Tool from you. I didn’t realize you weren’t home and you know how Seb is, apparently.”
“What did you need?” she eyes him suspiciously.
“...Your hand mixer.”
She scoffs and playfully whacks him on the shoulder, “I know you Striders can’t bake to save your life. Get your own damn mixer for your crazy projects, Dirk!”
Dirk surrenders to Jane so fast he almost looks like a sopping wet puppy. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable, which to anyone else looks incredibly similar to his usual expressionless face.
Jane puts her hands on her hips, but she still has a smile on her face, “Now, let me get started on some lunch for all of us.”
Dirk retreats to join you on the couch before Jane can even get moving around him. She shakes her head when she passes the couch on her way to the kitchen.
You look over at the very dejected teen sitting beside you and wave. He half-heartedly waves back, then whips his head over to you.
“...You didn’t have any keys when you locked the door. I was never going to get that mixer, was I?”
You slowly bring your hands up into a shrug and attempt a smirk. He grabs your head and shoves, which you stick your tongue at him for.
He doesn’t keep up the fight for any longer than that.
It’s strange seeing his confidence sapped. Is he… embarrassed? Is he embarrassed he indulged himself without fulfilling his objective in the end? If you didn’t live with the Crockers, you might understand his mentality. Now your days are almost completely filled with indulgences and you have to say, it’s a nice life!
You try sending him a ping of optimism.
TT: At least you get a meal from Jane now. ₍ᐢ, ̞ , ᐢ₎
“Yeah,” Dirk exhales with the ghost of a smile, then looks all the way over at you, “That does sound pretty good, Seb.”
TT: There’s still time in the day for you to procure a motor as well. (\_/)
“Yeah, yeah, carpe diem and all that,” he stands up and lends a hand to you, “First, lets stop being lecherous bums and help Jane out with lunch.”
You firmly nod before taking his hand and hopping off the couch. You’re just now thinking that today might not be so boring after all.
—
