spidertime | (no subject)

There is a noticeable pause before the response comes.

TT: Easy, Strider.
TT: As tempting as your lascivious offer is, god only knows where those lips of yours have been. Let's keep my reward strictly platonic.
TT: A kiss on the cheek, as from the dainty prince being rescued by his knight in shining armor, at the very outermost.
TT: That should elicit a minimum of jealousy from our respective partners, I think.
TT: And a minimum of disgust and regret on both our parts.

TT: It's surprising how difficult silence is to come by on this asteroid, all things considered.
TT: Doubly so if you consider the omnipresent lifeless hum of the abandoned machinery.
TT: Not that it's entirely unpleasant. But sometimes it can grow a little tiresome.

Does his heart sink just a bit with every second she waits? Yeah.

It does.

Self pity 101 with Dave Strider.

TG: just so long as you know the offers there
TG: wouldnt want you to think you were being slighted when i sweep by to peck your cheek and avoid all black lipstick in the vicinity

TG: i know what you mean its just fine right up until it would be quiet back home and the entire place sounds like it's going to destruct
TG: not like its louder than before its just all up and tapping on your skull when theres nothing else going on

Another agonizing pause.

TT: I'll make sure to remember that next time my brother neglects to go full-tongue when he kisses me.
TT: No offense will be taken, I assure you.

TT: I recall that on the first night that we slept here, I could hear a faint beeping from one of the laboratories. I was more than a little afraid that there was something catastrophically wrong, but in the end, it turned out to be little more than a glorified "low battery" warning.
TT: I've mostly grown used to the background noise, these days, though I do miss true silence now and then. I was quite accustomed to it, back home.

She has to do that on purpose. She's too Rose to do anything by accident.

TG: never even mentioned slippery food muscle business
TG: thats what trolls call tongues right
TG: anyway this is the point where i pretend to be you and read way too much into what the inclusion of tongue to the conversation means
TG: only unfortunate thing is that makes me a doctor and brings up all sorts of references i dont want to make

Well, joking or not, this conversation has certainly taken a turn that makes her more than a little uncomfortable.

But he can't know that.

TT: Writhing speak organs?
TT: Slimy taste muscles?
TT: Lashing scream artifices?
TT: Something equally silly, I'm sure.

TT: No, you have me intrigued.
TT: References you don't want to make?
TT: Is that the sweet, savory scent of fear that I detect, Mr. Strider?

TG: gotta be lashing scream artifices
TG: sillier something is more likely it is to come out of a trolls mouth

TG: look all im saying is that id rather people try to find a texan accent than a pompus brittish one

The next day, Rose stands alone in her bedroom, picking through a messy pile of discarded fabric, crumpled shirts, and the occasional technicolor bra.

Conversation date. He would have called it a date, wouldn't he? As though she hadn't spent a good portion of the last two months trying her very best to disassociate him with the concept in her mind. He's with Terezi, now. And she's with Kanaya. Happy with Kanaya, and not a mere false happiness raised as a shield to distract herself for the thoughts thay still bother her to this day. Even if she has found herself mixing alcoholic beverages in the lab on more than one occasion to take her mind off things, she genuinely cares for the troll.

Dwelling on her feelings for the guy who she'd long since learned to be her ectobiological brother could do nothing but ruin the tenuous happiness she's managed to construct for herself.

That doesn't stop her from overthinking the absolute hell out of this conversation date, of course. And three outfit changes - including a brief hunt for her formal dress before thinking about what sort of message that might send - and two showers later, she realizes that she's made herself uncharacteristically late. There wasn't any time to think it through anymore, and in the end, she chooses an outfit that she'd hardly thought about wearing since their journey had begun. A simple black skirt, along with her old faithful modified Squiddle t-shirt.

She doesn't bother running or texting Dave to warn him that she'll be late. That would be admitting defeat. She'd stroll in, head held high, as of nothing is wrong.

As if she doesn't miss him quite as much as she actually does.

Rose might have spent her time primping and taking showers, and sure, Dave built that in too, but for the most part his preparation for what is probably his most stupid idea of all time consists of pacing, checking the time on his phone, and pacing some more. Every ten minutes he removes his tie and then every five he puts it back on. Wearing a suit for this is weird. But he can put it down to a joke, a bit of fun. The tie though, is a problem.

He doesn't even need to check his phone to know the time. Routines stick hard even when you're a time god. He's still got a fucking hour to go.

He holds out another twenty minutes before high tailing it to the library, he figures he can find something to read for one; puzzle the shit out of that Alternian.

When Rose finally arrives Dave is surprisingly entrenched in a book of Alternian poetry, phone in one hand with the alphabet translation up, it's slow progress but he's managed to squeeze a trickle of enjoyment from it. He's absently fiddling with the tie he left on so it's loose and sloppy, turns out a distraction does wonders for shooting that worry to pieces.

Rose pauses outside the entrance, taking a moment to collect herself before she enters. Dave probably wouldn't even be in there. He'd probably have figured that she just wasn't going to show up and left. Or maybe he hasn't arrived yet. Taking "fashionably late" to a whole new ironic extreme. Whatever the case may be, though, she can hardly go meet him with her heart attempting to bludgeon it's way from her chest. 'This is stupid' writ large in great, blinking letters ten feet wide. One deep breath. Two. And...

She steps inside and oh motherfucker. He's wearing a suit. He always did look ridiculously sharp in a suit, and the fact that his tie is unkempt hardly ruins the effect. She's got her gameface on, though, and she is most certainly not going to let it bother her. "Well, Mr. Strider, it seems that it's my turn to come underdressed to a date." Much as the phrasing he'd chosen still eats away at her, she's going to milk it for all it's worth. "You might have warned me. Kanaya's been hard at work, making me beautiful new dresses. I would have put more effort into my appearance, had I known."

He starts at her voice, and fumbles to catch his phone from the air where he flung it. In a totally controlled manner. His hands close around it and he tucks it into his pocket. He might be a little on edge but when the fuck did she turn into a ninja? Not having Bro around has let him get soft.

"Hey, couldn't look anything but my best for my sis, could I?" He snaps the book closed and puts it down on the chair as he stands. "And it's been getting lonely on its hanger, the zipper makes this sad face and it just breaks my heart to see." It's nice to see her though.

Wait. Why did he stand up. Damn it. He gestures to the other seat, "I heard a rumour that conversation's better when you sit. It could be a lie but I figure it wouldn't hurt to give it a go." A conversation date is sounding more stupid by the second. But it's still nice to see her.

She can't quite stop the small burst of laughter from tearing out of her at his reaction. It was so uncharacteristically spastic that she just couldn't help but cackle. But it doesn't take long for the moment to be gone and for the all-too-familiar feelings (and the package deal of unbelievable guilt) to start gnawing away at her, even as she gracefully walks over to take a seat, smile still fixed firmly on her face. "Well, if nothing else, you've accomplished that."

How long had it been since the two of them had just... talked? Just the two of them. Had it really been since the night of her date with Kanaya? And even that didn't really count, considering how drunk out of her mind she'd been.

Hell, she'd almost kissed him, then. If he'd been sitting closer, she might have. She's beginning to remember why she'd spent so much of her time avoiding him.

"I've heard much the same rumors. We'll just have to test it out for ourselves, won't we?" She brushes some imaginary dust from her lap, and her eyes fix on the poetry he'd been struggling through. Quick quick quick say something that isn't retarded. "...So, you can read after all."

"I'm a quick study. If universities weren't destroyed by now I'd be the next Doogie Howser. Minus the doctor part." How does he keep stepping into that trap, we just don't know.

He picks up the book and settles back into his seat. The feeling of awkwardness is building and he really should do something about it. As it's going he'll end up spilling facts that one one needs to know, much less supposedly civilised company.

"Just Doogie, then. I'll remember this as the precise moment when you decided that you'd grow up to become an inspiration to gay men everywhere." Is she sitting a little straighter, a little more rigidly than she usually does? Maybe. She certainly feels just as horribly awkward as he does, even if she doesn't realize the connection. "...And what was the lucky book today?"

"Karkat needs a role model on this rock doesn't he? I'm willing to step up to the plate." Opposite her Dave is slumped about as far as he can go.

He considers tossing her the book but throwing books doesn't seem right somehow. "Just some slam poetry, trolls are really shit at it. If you were wondering." Of course she wasn't, and he feels like an idiot for just saying it.

"Oh? And here I thought they held it to be one of their culture's greatest art forms." If this gets any more awkward, she's getting out her needles and pulling an Oedipus. It would be a fitting punishment. Or setting herself on fire or something good and drastic. "You did seem particularly engrossed."

"Have you seen troll culture? They have movie titles that take as long to read as it does to watch the movie." He shrugs, "it was interesting. Different to the stuff on earth." He never thought he'd miss youtube as much as he does on this rock. Hell, he misses the comments.

For a moment, the awkward rigidity becomes an uncharacteristic slouch. This isn't working either. Awkward conversation: several thousand, Rose Lalonde: zero. She sits back up as if she hadn't moved.

Talking to him had never felt this uncomfortable before, and she can't help but feel it's entirely her fault. Stupid. Stupid feelings and their utter refusal to stop just getting in the way. Stupid her. "Point taken. I've done some small forays into the subject, but Kanaya assures me that she would be a terrible teacher. And the few slam poems I have read were... Something." Troll romance novels were much more interesting.

Missing Earth is a problem she can relate to. For... a number of reasons.

He pokes the cover of the book he was perusing, "Yeah you don't say I swear every second line is a mildly horrifying reenactment of innards being pulled to outards in some way. But once you get past the gore the true shit comes with the flow. They don't have any. It's like it's just missing from their genetic code." He's babbling and insulting an entire species all at once. His pokerface stays in check but he's going to try and keep a better lid on that. No way Rose is going to find that shit endearing and he's only making the tension between them thicken.