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"This is a bad idea."
"And yet! You're here." A pause. "With me," Red adds on. It's an unnecessary clarification.
Red manages to catch Purple's gaze with an inviting lift to their brow. It's teasing, and silly, and—Purple decides hesitantly but objectively—charming.
Bravado is a natural look on Red. Purple, not so much—but Red? Red brings easy laughter; somehow they know how to pull out all of Purple's best jokes out of them, like a claw machine they know all the cheats to. Both of them were new to this job, and it was nice to have someone to depend on.
"I am," Purple agrees, suppressing the amusement in their voice. "But if we get caught, it's on you."
"Ah-ah-uh! Nooope, nope—you'd be an accomplice!" Red claims cheerfully. Before they turn the corner, peeking left and right, they catch Purple's wrist. "You agreed to go with me, so…"
"So we're in this together, yeah, I know."
"Exactly!"
"I just meant I'd be holding you accountable," Purple explains.
"Well, you won't have to worry about that, because we're not gonna get caught in the first place."
"You say that now, Redsy," Purple chuckles to themself. "You say that now."
"Shush!" Red urges Purple in a low tone, because of pettiness and not because there's anyone actually there who can get them in trouble. "You're way too loud!"
"Really?" Purple replies in mock disbelief. "Don't act like you're not the loudmouth here. Could you remind me who got reprimanded for blabbing about everything and anything in the lab?"
"I didn't know that was supposed to be a secret," Red huffs. "Doctor Periwinkle didn't happen to clarify that information."
"And yet, I get the impresion that it was somehow your own failing…" Purple trails off teasingly.
"Ugh, whatever." Red refuses to say anything else, and chooses to pull Purple along while pointedly looking away, laser-focused on their destination. Purple fails to stifle their snickers, because Red's annoyance is much too funny, and they know their audible amusement will just piss Red off even more—which is even better!
Purple almost forgets to react when Red casts another furtive glance around the hall before pulling them into a dim room, softly shutting the door behind them. Red's grip around their hand is warm, Purple realizes; the point of contact feels much more apparent in the faint darkness, the only source of illumination being the TV screens on the wall. Purple tries to speak, but they find their voice caught in their throat along with the sudden speeding of their pulse—why are they here, again? What are they here to do?
Red lets go of their hand. Purple feels a lingering awareness of where their gloves met.
The moment Purple gathers enough of themself to say something, anything, maybe try to question what was going on—Red turns around. They're smiling, and they promptly pull out two game controllers—totally oblivious to the threat of dizziness in Purple's brain.
"So I maaaay have snuck a console in here…" Red suggests with a quality of roguish cheekiness that Purple admittedly finds quite exciting. The controllers shift and shine in Red's grasp.
Purple lets out that breath they didn't know they were holding, one that was anticipating—something that wasn't going to be unpacked right now. as
"God, don't scare me like that—" Purple smacks Red's their shoulder, pushing a snicker out of Red as a result. "I thought you were gonna kill me!"
"Me? Kill you?? Oh, nooo—" Red shakes their head. "Kill you in Among Us Arena Ultimate, however? Yeeeeess—"
"Shut up," Purple barks out in disbelieving joy. "Give me that."
And just like that, the newbie interns find themselves playing Among Us Arena Ultimate in the unused monitoring room, because it really wasn't that hard to hook up a console to official work equipment. A five act story is compressed into the one to two hours that they play: there is heartbreak, and betrayal, and reunion, and annoying combos that you can't escape because you're against the wall and the opponent isn't stopping anytime soon, which is basically everything that a story could ever possibly need. Red or Purple couldn't tell you who raged the most because they would just say it was each other.
It ends eventually, because it has to—well, the gaming, at least. The inputs are switched back to the camera function, and to Red's surprise, they don't immediately leave. No, they spend time winding down and staring at the views from the camera and listening to static and talking about nothing particularly interesting outside of the moment. Still, Red finds themself trying to memorize every detail before it can end: the glow of the screen crawling on the floor where they're seated, the hushed fullness of Purple's voice as they pass responses back and forth, the way that Purple slumps against Red as they grow sleepier and sleepier—
Oh. Uh. That.
Red had not been prepared for that. They had been quite relaxed throughout all the button-mashing and playing and talking, but—in an ironic twist, it's only after the whole sneaking out thing that Red considers being nervous. The nerves are slapdash and melatonin-addled, but they're there, and Red is very aware of their urge to be liked by Purple. To impress them, because they were just so cool, and Red desperately wanted Purple to think the same of them. So maybe Red ends up doing stupid things around Purple while just trying to get them to like them—whatever! It's practically part of the job, because—because they work together, yeah. Making your coworker like you is just part of a job.
But, uh, maybe sneaking out at night to play games, isn't—part of their job?
Red exhales and shoves their visor in their hands—as gingerly as possible, as to not wake up Purple. They feel like screeching into their hands, in a very abominable manner. A scream so horrific that maybe people would think a murder really did occur here.
Okay, fine! Maybe—no, not maybe, just—kind of? Definitely, a little bit. Maybe Red liked Purple.
Red tries to wrangle the giddy feeling in their chest, feeling as if they'll burst into butterflies. They allow themself to indulge in a little feet-kicking, god forbid. But just a little bit!! Wouldn't want to wake Purple, of course.
Wake… Purple…
Red tries not to groan. Right—dammit, they'll have to wake them eventually. Wouldn't wanna get caught here—they're just interns, they could get in trouble. Probably. Who knows. It's best to get back to the bunks, so… yeah, they'll have to wake Purple up eventually. Whatever.
It doesn't discourage Red from continuing to allow Purple leaning against them, though. The warmth is as nice as their presence. Red clasps their hands, bringing their forehead down to the knuckles of their thumbs. Please just let me have this moment. Please. Pleaaaase.
So, Red lets the moment last, knowing that they'll have to choose when to end it soon, before they decide to just throw everything out the window and stay. It's because Red knows they'll probably give into that, that they know why it's gotta end soon. It's just—way too comfortable!
Red takes one more breath, and sighs.
Their hands goes to Purple's side, shaking them gently. "Hey, buddy. It's time to get up."
"Purps!"
It's the kind of exclamation that only Red could make, in that voice of theirs—the way they say Purple's name, the nickname they're using.
Purple stills. Only for barely a moment—they don't allow the stupor to last. Purple clutches years of anger and frustration and betrayal in the balled-up fist of their hand.
"Purps, it's—it's you—!" Red is rushing past workers to see them, interrupting the flow of foot traffic. That, along with the Captain's uniform, makes Purple frown. Deeply. It's not like they're better donning the security badge, either, they think. "You're here! You made it! I-I mean, of course I knew you were gonna be here—I-I'm Captain, after all! Heh! Well, uh, what I mean is—I—uh—!" They have the audacity to look relieved, to smile like nothing wrong has happened between them.
The ship is boarding its crew and its cargo. The Captain should—the Captain should be directing them, or leading the charge, or—something. The point is, they should be doing anything but talking to Purple, the pity hire security guard.
Purple doesn't need distractions. They're here to do a job, so—
"—ah!" Red startles.
Purple shoves past Red, indulging in the harshness of the shoulder-check they allowed themself to have. They turn their head a few degrees, just barely looking back that it wouldn't be proper to even call it that. With the fraction of the look that Purple sends back to Red, they channel every scrap of wrath accumulated over the years at them, emboldened by the brim-casted shadow over their face and the smoky exhaustion shading their visor.
With a mere glimpse back at Captain Red, Purple realizes the pure, seething vitriol they have for this thing, all over again. All of it, everything they felt in the years since the incident—reawakened. And to think that Red had just gone on to live their life, climbing the corporate ladder. God, they're a coward. A horrible, awful coward. A sellout who never truly cared, who Purple thinks they don't even want Red to really care about them, if it meant making the decision that Red did.
(They don't want to see the look on Red's face right now. Maybe not ever.)
Gritting their teeth, Purple hopes—prays—that Red never cared. They pray for it with the desperation of someone very, very lost.
"Don't get in my way," Purple declares icily, and that's all there is to say.