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“Y’know, I’m not much of a… wine drinker. Or an alcohol drinker, for that matter. ”
The glass of rich ruby red wine clasped in Purple’s fingers swirls with a gentle shift of their arm as they break the silence resting amongst the room, catching White’s attention with a quiet hum. The glassware glints softly in the dim, blue lighting of the security office, reflecting like an aurora borealis, or a… a pool? They’ve run out of words. All they know is that it’s beautiful, and looks just like the glint in Purple’s visor.
“Oh– you aren’t? Do you, uh… have a reason for that?” White muses out, gaze laser-focused on that beautiful glow of Purple’s visor. They’re not very sure what everyone sees in that doctor, anyways. Everyone swoons over them, and yes, Blue’s gorgeous– White definitely swooned first glance– but they just haven’t felt that same swooning feeling afterwards. The doctor’s been pretty pleasant to talk to on the few occasions they’ve interacted, actually. White supposes that they've always personally been into the more rugged crewmates.
Purple’s drawn them in like a spidermate draws flymates into their web, and they’d willingly get all stuck in that web just to see Purple up close. Or something. They don’t often see spidermates or flymates around– their mansion is always too… perfect for that.
Purple shakes White out of their thoughts as they lean forward onto their desk, moving their keyboard and mouse and everything else on the security desk forward haphazardly and seemingly contemplating as they stare at the wine in hand.
Then, without warning, they tip their lovely, scarred up head back and down half the glass in one swig. And immediately start coughing.
“PURPLE! You’re supposed to–to sip it, not chug it!” White sputters out, placing an awkward, dainty, soft hand on their back as Purple wheezes. They’ve never truly worked a day in their life, and they know Purple knows that. They’ve gotten laid into in regards to that aspect of things before. It’s what makes Purple so interesting.
They’ve never tried to appease White, never tried to impress them. Purple actually honestly seemed to highly dislike them for the first few weeks of knowing them. It drew White in, caught their attention, stood out amongst a crowd of crewmates doing everything they could to impress a millionaire and broke the comfortable mold that White’s been so used to.
Maybe a beer would fit Purple better than wine. More rugged, less dainty and proper, easier to chug. Or a bottle of vodka. The millionaire isn’t very sure.
“It’s fine, White. I never cared for the rules,” Purple waves off, but White doesn’t fail to notice the way that they sip it instead when they bring the glass up to their mouth a second time. It tugs a quiet snort out of them that earns them an unserious glare.
They sit in silence for a moment after that, only broken by the occasional sips of red wine and the buzzing of the cameras.
Eventually, Purple’s voice cuts through. “About your– question. It’s usually too… uh,”
It takes a moment for White to catch onto what Purple’s trying to say. “...Fancy?”
“Yeah. Fancy, for me. I’ve never had the money to even afford to drink alcohol, let alone wine like this. This probably costs more than anything I've made my whole life combined. That’d be a waste of beans with my situation,” they murmur, swirling their glass again. Something heavier sits behind their visor that White can’t quite place.
White knows they probably shouldn’t ask about it, shouldn’t pry with such a closed off crewmate.
“...Just how bad are things for you?”
They ask anyway.
Purple stiffens slightly at the question, and it makes White quickly begin backtracking. “I–uh, I’ve just never… been in that position before, y’know? I’ve always had everything I’ve needed with… no real problem, y’know, with knowing so many people and being so… famous, a–and–”
Purple cuts them off by carelessly swallowing the rest of the red wine in their glass, wincing slightly as it burns its way down their throat. They don’t start coughing this time, at least. “Wait half an hour for this wine to kick in and get me woozy. Maybe then you’ll get something outta me, nepo baby.”
White silently pours them another glass.
It actually only takes maybe ten minutes for Purple to be absolutely drunk out of their mind. White’s maybe starting to regret even giving them wine at all. They didn’t realize that the cold head of security would be a lightweight emotional drunk, but they can’t really take it back at this point. They’ve already had the alcohol. Too late for… “take-backsies”.
“And they just– hic– LEFT ME!” White jumps as Purple’s voice raises, having zoned out slightly after a while of… generally incoherent rambling. “They LEFT and signed it without any hesitation– stupid– Red– fuckin’ left me in the– dust–” They’ve been teetering the line of sobbing and breaking something for about twenty minutes, White would say. They’ve had to stop Purple from throwing their mouse about four times, for God’s sake! “Stupid– bootlicker–” After a moment of the security crewmate leaning further towards hysterically crying, they place a gentle hand on Purple’s shoulder, awkward and hoping to calm them down a little.
“Hey. How about you, uh… drink some water, yeah?” They gently grab Purple’s glass, pushing forward a water bottle they had (thankfully) brought with them, just in case. It takes a moment for Purple to get the cap untwisted, but they’re soon taking a swig without complaint, which White can’t help but be relieved about.
They eye a blanket nearby and decidedly grab that, as well, wrapping it gently around Purple’s shoulders as the other crewmate sniffles. The two end up sitting shoulder-to-shoulder as Purple quietly but bitterly mumbles fragmented pieces of a story White doesn’t quite know yet, waiting until they fall quiet to say anything.
“...Feeling better?”
The head of security seems to hesitate, taking a bit longer to think. “...Yeah, actually. Thanks– hic–... thanks, White.”
White’s gaze moves down to Purple’s hands as they fall quiet, which are now slowly fidgeting with each other. They seem ready to say something, lost in thought, and White has to bite their tongue to stop themself from breaking into a ramble, or accidentally pushing the head of security to talk.
When they speak, it’s quiet, detached, but with the slight slur of somebody who’s trying and failing to hide that they’re drunk. “I, uh… about your… other question, earlier? MIRA’s blacklisted me. I can’t hold a– a job, super well ‘cause of it. I– we had a… situation with– MIRA and… I wanted to blow the whistle. Not stay silent. Refuse the NDA that they offered. They didn’t.”
The pause following after feels heavy. “...Red signed MIRA’s NDA and– and left me, stupid bootlicker scum,” Purple finishes bitterly, visor narrowing. White nudges the water to grab their attention before they fall back into the hysterical sobbing and anger cycle again. Their hands grasp the bottle shakily, taking a smaller sip than before.
They could tell that Red and Purple had some sort of history. Hell, anyone within a ten foot radius of them could tell within five seconds of walking into a room that they're both present in. But… White didn't realize that Red was that big of a MIRA suck-up. They don't have room to talk, really— they're friends with billionaires, business owners, police… a lot of influential people. They're a capitalist, of course they don't have much room to talk! Talking and listening to Purple is making them… realize some things, though.
“...jeez, man,” White eventually awkwardly murmurs, wincing at how lame of a response that is to a trauma dump. Sue them, they have no clue how to do this sort’ve thing. “I, uh… Jeez, I have no room to comment on this, do I?” That tugs a quiet laugh from Purple, teary visor upturning slightly as their full attention turns to White. Gosh, they’re pretty. White stutters for a moment, trying not to accidentally go on a… socially unaware or insensitive ramble as they've often done. “Uh… can’t change the past, yada yada yada… let yourself have some fun while you can, yeah? This is supposed to be fun for you, too. Don’t let this go to waste.”
“...Alright, nepo baby.” Purple stretches out– albeit a little clumsily, judging by how they nearly fall out of their chair. “I’ll bite, let’s go fuck around and– hic– do something. This seat’s making my ass hurt.”
White stands up in a way that, in their opinion, is very… proper, as they’ve been taught their whole life by their Mi and Mu. Wine in hand, steady even with the slight buzz in their head from the alcohol. They always told them that they need to keep their head high and always keep a professional appearance, after all! How else are they gonna make business deals?
Purple’s up for about two seconds before they tumble face-first into the ground.
“Oh– jeez, alright, come here, just–” White frantically puts their glass down, kneeling to grab under Purple’s arms and help them up. They’re not super strong, but the head of security also… isn’t that heavy, as concerning as that is. They don’t have the time to dwell on that right now. “Just– uh, grab onto– here–” They awkwardly guide Purple to a sitting position, moving Purple’s hands to their shoulders gently. Then, after a few moments, they pull them upwards, helping them stand up and stabilize as they sway. “Aaaaand we’re up. There you go.”
The other crewmate groans pitifully, leaning all of their weight on White and nearly making them stumble over. “Shit– hic– I’m so dizzy,” they slur out, head falling on White’s shoulder in a way that they’d never usually do with… anyone. “Uuuuuuugghhhhhhhh. Does it usually– hic– feel like this???”
“...I mean, not for me… You might have a low tolerance.”
“I’ll have you know I–... I have a GREAT tolerance, asshole.” White almost facepalms. God, they’re drunk. Maybe they should’ve stopped Purple after just one glass instead of giving them that second one— they did drink them both really fast. Or just never have given them wine in the first place. White's not quite sure.
“…Whatever you say, Purple,” they eventually sigh, moving to pick their wine glass up with… some struggle, given that Purple's still hanging onto them. "What do you have in mind for things to do? There's not exactly… much on here, given we're in… you know… space."
The head of security takes a moment to think— although with some visible difficulty— before lighting up, nearly falling over again with how fast they straighten. "I've got an idea… let me show you— hic— somethin' in O2," Purple slurs out, swaying in place. The bright expression of their visor is so worth it, though, even with White having to basically carry Purple at the moment.
White ends up having to drag them both to O2, despite it being Purple's idea, because the head of security's walking like a newborn fawn who just figured out how to stand up. They're sure Purple will be glad in the morning that everybody's sleeping like a rock at this time of night, because White knows that they are. Nobody needs to be seeing them drunk as a flymate on spilled soda.
They end up getting to O2 with… minimal issues, in the end. White can only be grateful for the small things, right now, as Purple seems to perk up and let go of them to stumble towards the water tank. Thankfully, they don't fall, leaning their weight heavily onto the tank, their tail wagging slowly behind them. Soft humming starts up, and it takes White a moment to realize that it's coming from Purple. Specifically, a very… scuffed version of the "happy birthday" tune, if White recalls correctly as they move closer to the tank.
They aren't really sure what they were expecting when they walked in here. But it definitely wasn't this, upon seeing a tiny little fishmate peek out of the seaweed.
"…You smuggled a fishmate onto the Skeld?"
The proud upturn of their visor should not be as pretty as it is. "Mmmmmmmhm. They're my babyyy— hic—… my best friend," they ramble, pressing their flushed face right up to the glass where the fish is. "Hiiiiiiii sweetie. Hi, Heracleeeesss. Hiiiiiiiii babyyyyyyyyy."
White also didn't know that a fishmate could look confused. They're learning a lot of new things today, huh? Then again, it isn't really typical that they see a whole lot of fishmates. They're never even really in a postion to be seeing any in the first place.
The millionaire jumps as Purple suddenly grabs the bottom of their shirt with uncoordinated strength only a very drunk person can muster, catching their attention. The head of security's looking at them with an unfamiliar, wide-eyed fondness, and it's making them a little flustered the longer that gaze lingers on them.
"You're so— so fuckin' nice to me…"
Aaaand Purple's sobbing again. Oh well. It worked for a little bit. White hisses through their teeth as Purple starts rambling incoherently, tears streaming down their face uncontrollably. "Ooooookay. Let's sit down, yeah?" With a soft sigh, White eases them down to sit on the floor, trying their best to make sure that Purple doesn't fall flat on their ass— although, they did fail at stopping Purple from falling earlier and they were fine, so they aren't sure how worth it this is.
Once Purple's successfully on the floor, White settles themself next to them, leaning against the O2 tank. It doesn't take a super long time for Purple to end up leaning all of their weight onto White, which… isn't really surprising anymore. The waterworks have stopped, at least— all that's left is the buzzing and whirring of the ship's machinery.
The silence lingers for a long few moments before either of them say anything, comfortable and calming and only broken by the occasional sip of wine that White takes, or sometimes a quiet sniffle from Purple. Even sometimes the swish of Heracles swimming around, if White focuses enough on the noise.
"I'm not used to— hic—… kindess, y'know," Purple eventually murmurs, sounding a little more sobered up. A little. Just barely. It makes White turn their head slightly, looking at the head of security. "People usually think I'm… boring. A—a crazy ol' whistleblower." They pause for a moment, absentmindedly clinging onto White's shirt and rubbing the fabric between their fingers. "And then… stupid— stupid you came along and— hic— started being nice—" Their grip tightens for a moment, avoiding the millionaire's gaze and glaring down at the floor. Purple shoots up suddenly and pulls back with… a realization, of sorts, leaving White kind of missing the warmth of their body. A sweat bead forms on White's forehead as Purple soon squints and meets their gaze again, leaning close enough to them for their visors to be just a few inches apart. "…What do you— hic— want from me?"
"I… uh…" White stumbles over their words for a few moments, gaze flitting from the scar over Purple's face, to the dirt smudged on their cheek, to the glinting of their visor in the dim lighting from the O2 tank. Every small detail takes all the words right out of White's head. Eventually, they manage to force out the first words they can think of. "… You. I want— uh— … you…" Curse their impulse. Oh my God.
The head of security blinks, taking a few moments to process White's words before going wide-visored again. A flush that's definitely not just from the alcohol spreads across their face, and White wants so badly to sink into the floor and disappear from their embarrassment. "Wh— what? You— huh???"
"Uh— shit, sorry— this is REALLY embarrassing, uh— I swear that I'm not usually this—… unprofessional… uh…" They begin to panic-ramble for a while as Purple stares at them, and White can see the gears turning in their head. Confusion becoming suspicion becoming disbelief as White freaks out, very unprofessionally dumping the majority of the wine left in their glass down their throat. "I—fuck, I'm so sorry, we can just— uh— forget about this and— um—"
White's very abruptly cut off as Purple moves forward and closes the distance with what… ends up being a headbutt, rather than a kiss. Their heads knock together surprisingly painfully, tugging a yelp out of White as they fall back slightly. "OW— What—…" It takes a solid five seconds for White to process what Purple was attempting to do, soon looking extremely flustered. More than before. "Did you—"
"I'M SO SORRY." Purple wobbles back a couple inches, tail whipping around as they cover their face in pure humiliation, mortified beyond belief. The silence stretches for a… very uncomfortable moment, even Heracles seeming to go still along with all of the machinery in O2, before a quiet snort leaves White. Soft, barely even noticeable at first.
That snort turns into a giggle, and soon the millionaire is laughing, visor tearing up slightly. As White descends into a laughing fit, Purple startles out of their hands, looking bewildered at the other crewmate. The small pool of wine left over in White's glass tips over and dribbles down onto their shirt as they giggle, leaving a beautiful, blooming red stain trailing down the front of them.
Soon, Purple can't help but begin to laugh, too, woozy and warm and relaxed in a way that they haven't been in a long time— a way that would usually have their mind screaming "danger," but that doesn't really seem like a big deal in this current moment, from what White can tell. White's almost even nervous that they'll wake someone else. Almost.
The two crewmates continue to giggle as they move closer, closing what feels like a sea of distance between them inch by inch. White's head feels a bit fuzzy as everything passes in a blur, hands coming up to cup the sides of Purple's face as Purple's hands come to rest on either side of White on the ground.
"…Was that supposed to be a— hehe— kiss??" they tease softly, watching Purple's face turn a deep shade of indigo from a more bashful sense of embarrassment. White runs their fingers absentmindly through Purple's fur, their own tail wagging behind them, just barely slower than Purple's.
Purple grumbles halfheartedly in response, averting their gaze for a few seconds before looking back. "Shut up—hic—I'm trying, okay?" The words lack any seriousness or bite, given the unwavering upturn of Purple's face as they speak, leaning into the millionaire's touch with a quiet purr. Their gaze trails down to the stain, squinting as their brain catches up slowly.
"You stained your—hic— shirt…"
White ponders for a moment. "…Forget that. I've got plenty. Let's try this again, yeah?"
Movements are a blur as White pulls them in like a magnet, the motions feeling so unnaturally natural as they press their visors together with a clink, face warm and boiling and everything they never quite knew they needed. It feels as if all they'll ever need is right in front of them, in Purple's arms, entangled and entertwined and laughing on the cold metal floor of the O2 room.
Their movements are a mess of a dance, pushing and pulling with drunk clumsiness and the carefree joy of ignorance that the buzz of alcohol provides them. Clink after clink of their visors colliding softly and sweet, drunken murmurs passing between them like secrets fills the room.
White's head at some point suddenly slams against the O2 tank as they move around, heads knocking together just a little too hard, soon followed by Purple's own slam, and it leaves the two of them giggling with blooming, raging headaches, falling to the floor in a pile. The cheap metal has visible, slight dents where each of their skulls collided, and White can't help but feel a sense of giddiness with them leaving their mark here in some way, a memory of this night for them to see. They can just imagine Heracles up in their tank looking as confused as a fishmate can look from the noises coming from below, and that only starts up another giggling fit.
Kiss after kiss after kiss is peppered on each of their faces, and it's so overwhelmingly domestic, so painfully sweet, drunk and dumb and loving and everything else that could be used to describe whatever this moment is. White's not even sure how to fully describe it. They just know that they don't want this to end. Limbs entangled and embraced and cuddling, hidden away like a secret ready to burst from the O2 room, a moment that's just them and messy, undetermined feelings that are coming out in extremes.
There's no telling what either of them will be thinking in the morning.
Maybe they'll both feel embarrassed. Maybe they'll both feel shame from it all. Maybe they'll both try to pretend that this never happened, forget about it all, never talk to each other again and close off completely. Millions of possibilities, millions of things that could happen circle around vaguely in White's thoughts for just a few moments.
But, as White feels the head of security bury their head into the crook of their neck, breath warm and tingly and reeking of alcohol with every snort and laugh, they can't find it in themself to care when all they want right now is right here.