Chapter Text
You were sitting at your husktop, working on your newest project which is none of anyones fucking business except yours.
Its hard, though, to ignore the fucking fit being thrown across the room by the obnoxious fucking seadweller dressed head-to-toe in that ugly ass violet color.
It was only the two of you in the computer lab for now, after Kanaya had finally stepped out to go to the library. Karkat had promised he’d be coming back shortly, though, so your moment of peace would surely slip through your fingers if you didn’t shut up the asshat behind you.
“ Fuckin’-- Captor.” Eridan finally decides to address you, arms crossing over his chest in the reflection of your glasses. He hasn’t turned to look at you yet, though. Probably doing the same thing out of the corner of his lens, too. Big ass thick rimmed stupid ugly ass glasses. Fucker.
“Sol I know-w you can fuckin’ hear me. Answ-wer me w-when I’m talkin’ to you.”
All big and tough even though he’s sitting like a wriggler in his chair, stuttering over his words.
Your eyes flicker from your screen over to the whiner behind you. Does he even know how fucking annoying he was? You purposely heave a deep sigh just so he knows how much this is inconveniencing you.
Turning in the worst swivel chair known to man to half face him- you were not bringing out your best chair only for it to end up stolen and in a chest somewhere for someone to find- you lean back, nonchalant but your body language still screams ‘fuck off.’
Why could he never take the hint even if it was directly in his face? He was the last troll you wanted to talk to probably fucking ever and yet here you both were alone, even if for only a few minutes. That definitely won’t be a mistake.
“what the fuck do you want?” you raise your eyebrow at him, trying to be nice here but you were never once good at that. Alternia doesn’t teach classes on being nice after all. You’d probably flunk it anyway.
“iim really fuckiing bu2y riight now” you were but you never told anyone why. You always assumed everyone thought the way you did, that they were on the same level as you. This is always proven false because if so Eridan would know you didn’t want to fucking talk to him. How many times do you have to think that for him to leave you the hell alone?
He turns around in his chair to face you again, young face pulled into a cruel expression that makes him look infinitely older and infinitely less mature at the same time. He narrows his eyes, bright orange with your shared youth but he’s basically doomed to keep them like that until he’s well into middle age, even though he’d probably like them to start to go bloodshot so they’d match his stupid hair and his stupid fucking cape.
“You don’t look busy,” He comments with a snide curl of his lip, “Besides, Serket’s been pissin’ me off an she’s not gonna troll herself. Now assist your betters . ”
He didn’t leave much room for argument, but his tone was like pouring salt on open wounds. Which just meant it was easier for you to fight about it.
“and you look liike a hiip2ter priick. iim not helping you, giillfucker . ” turning back to your computer from looking over your shoulder, you can see the way his expression changes in the reflection of your glasses at your words. Good. It gets him off your ass and you can go back to work in peace.
That’s what you would think if you were a fucking idiot. You know he’s going to blow up pretty quick here, might as well add onto it.
“2he2 not goiing two take you back iif that2 what youre goiing for” yeah. Add more salt to the wound you will. Might as well spit in his face while you’re at it.
You don’t miss the way his face turns shades, even though it looks like shades of blue in your lenses. He buries his chin in his scarf as he snarls.
“W-What the fuck w-w-would you know-w, you don’t ewer leawe your desk, you pissblooded prick. Hawe you ewen had a caliginous crush?” He says it like its a scandal, like you’re somehow more juvenile for not, “Bet you think Kar’s just an asshole, don’t you? Honestly you’re so coddamn obliwious its embarrassin. Now-w get ower here an’ help me code this program to make wris’ arm smack herself in the face, you jackass.”
Did this guy ever stop talking?
Him and that stupid fucking scarf. You should choke him out with it where he sits but you know he would just ask ‘wwhat are wwe’ like the pathetic dick he was. You don’t understand why he’s so obsessed with filling up his quadrants, it’s not like anyone here liked him at all in any way. Tolerated at best.
“ii dont need a cru2h iif iit2 fiilled do ii?” You’re lying out of your fucked up teeth but he didn’t need to know that. Whatever got off the topic of quadrants, yknow, the thing you were built to abandon on Alternia. Sure, Karkat was an asshole, but it was a front and everyone knew it. You, on the other hand, were a grade S piece of shit and you made sure everyone knew it.
“what the fuck do ii even get iif ii do help you? 2hell iimmediiately know who the hell diid iit and iim not iintere2ted iin pathetiic whore2. take the hiint 2ometiime.” your ears twitch, embarrassed at even the thought of talking any sense of whatever fucked up thing him and the serket bitch had going on.
You could see his eyes narrow out of the corner of your glasses, studying you. You swear to fucking gog every time he laid eyes on you or anyone it was like he was dissecting them in real time. You could feel the knife of his eyes on the back of your neck as it was. How the hell could he be that good at looking but not listening , is all you could wonder. He acted more paranoid than you did on a bad day, and that’s fucking saying something.
Then he kicked the back of your chair, not hard, but enough to jostle you like an annoying motherfucker.
“You’re not a wery good liar, Sol.” He sounds way too fucking proud of himself.
You pause at the kick, fingers pressing into your keyboard suddenly and ruining your string temporarily. There’s an utter silence as you sit there for a moment before adjusting your glasses and hitting the backspace key.
“What the fuck are you talkiing about now? Open your 2tupiid fiin2 and learn what the hell no mean2 2ometiime” you steal a glance his way behind your glasses while picking at your nails, but it’s not like he could fucking tell anyway. Nobody could, not even your own lusus. Your ear closest to him twitches as you go back to your functions. Could Karkat hurry the hell up and get back here? Having to sit anywhere near this guy was the worst experience of your life.
“Your ear tw-witched again. Cod you’re so fuckin’ easy. If you mean ‘no’ w-why are you gettin’ all fidgety about it, Captor?” He pulls his face out of his scarf and leans back in his chair, putting his shoes on the back of your own. Just to bother you. Just because it was cute when your ears twitched and he liked knowing he could make them do that. That he could play you like that. That he’d finally figured you out.
“Like hell you an’ Kar are in a quad, by the w-way. W-wouldn’t beliewe that shit for a second w-with how-w he acts ‘round Terezi. But I think it’s cute that you thought you could bluff me like that.”
“Yeah iit fuckiing doe2 that when iim annoyed” Not true, but any and everyone else read it as annoyance. What the hell did he see it as? You chew at the inside of your mouth and place your fingers back over the keyboard to avoid the fidgety allegations terribly, fingers flying at a moderate pace. You could absolutely multitask but you’re hoping he gets the fucking hint and leaves you alone before you explode.
“iit2 not kk. niice try though, ii promii2ed her iid keep iit under wrap2” you make a face on purpose like ‘oops I didn’t mean to say that.’ It sounds and looks genuine enough from your usual expressions that it could be believable. Your opposite ear twitches at his comment. You refrain from just covering your stupid fucking ears, you’re not letting him have that win over you.
You can see his stupid face raise a brow before his expression settles into something sour. And then you see him sniff, and sit a little taller in his chair. Feet off your fucking chair, thank the fucking stars.
You can see him open his mouth like he’s about say something stupid and then he looks over your shoulder and oh that motherfucker he totally is staring at your ears now gogdamnit.
“Your black? An’ you’re keepin’ it under w-wraps for ‘er? That’s so ruddy it could make me sick. Does Fef know-w?” He kind of sneers her name, instead turning his attention to his claws and picking at the jagged scab over the back of his right hand. Stitches done himself, Fef had told you with a roll of her eyes. He locked himself in one of the supply closets on the meteor and stitched himself up with his left fucking hand because he couldn’t admit he got himself hurt. Now it was almost certain to scar and scar something nasty.
You could glean a lot from all of that. Good thing you never let Eridan take up much diskspace on your pan.
You can almost feel your own ear twitch like it was betraying your thoughts.
Your body is a traitor usually, but this time at the knowledge he’s watching for it you use all your internal force to stop it. And a little bit of psi. He won’t notice that though.
“Well yeah iid hope 2o. Were vaciilatiing after all” you scoff at him like ’oh you haven’t heard?’ This time your body gives him no real tells on if it’s the truth or not, only because of how clearly he’s watching you. You could commit to a bit, one that had no truth to it. That was different than lying. Because the truth was you weren’t in a quadrant with Feferi and you didn’t care to be. You didn’t even do quadrants at all, but telling that to the guy who’s obsessed with having them would be much too confusing for his tiny incel brain.
“Bet 2he wouldve told you her2elf iif you were 2tiill her moiiraiil” you sneer at him while continuing to type like it was your 9-5 on the line here. You’ll dig at his insecurities to get him off your ass. Seriously, where was Karkat when you needed him?
You can practically hear his teeth grind from where you sit.
“No the fuck you aren’t.” He spits it through his teeth, and you can see the way his fins fold back in anger— no, not in anger. You’ve seen him angry and his fins flare like he’s trying to make himself look bigger— he needed to, he’s a fucking pipsqueak as it is, a gogdamn runt himself— so this was something sadder. More resigned. Shame , you settle on. “Fef couldn’t hate a fuckin’ soul an’ w-we both know-w that. ‘Specially not fuckin’ you . She’s fuckin’ obsessed w-with you, fuck know-ws w-w-why.”
He spits it like an accusation. Like he’s fully expecting you to explain yourself. Explain what spell you put on his beautiful, bewitching ex-moirail to convince her to confide in you. Someone lowly like yourself, you’re sure.
You’d think he’d ask the same of himself at this point, because he was telling you everything you needed to know and wanted to know and everything you didn’t . More ammunition was more ammunition, though, you supposed.
His rings clacked as he fussed with them in the crook of his elbow.
Ammunition was all you needed to keep this going. He was so bad at keeping anything he felt to himself unlike you, at least you weren’t that fucking pathetic. Maybe you did have some redeeming qualities after all.
“Told her nobody would beliieve iit. Gue22 2he ju2t let2 me 2ee a 2iide you never diid iin all your 2weep2 together.” Oh yeah you’re fully committed to going in here. You huff at him in annoyance, entertained by his changing expressions while you keep yourself collected. You know that was something that bothered him.
“Youre riight though” You turn your head to look at him, face splitting into a smirk as you stop typing. “2he ii2 ob2e22ed wiith me. iit2 why were tryiing out every quadrant” you stare right into him like you were judging his reaction to something completely fucking plausible if anyone saw how Feferi acted around you. She wasn’t even that obsessed, she just got you to take breaks and the only place to sit was publicly in the stupid horn pile.
His face turns shades like you just said the most scandalous thing that’s ever hit his earfins, like he hasn’t said much fucking worse trying to catch some attention. His expression sours more, leaning over his arms like he was trying to get in your face without closing any distance.
“You fuckin’ disgust me. You can’t just fuckin’ play her like that you w-worthless fuckin’ w-worm— ”
He snarls, and you can hear the growl in his throat— he still hasn’t grown into his yet, so it sounds a little like a purr rubbed over sandpaper, which only makes him more embarrassed, which only makes him more indignant, and so on. Gog he was so easy.
He clears his throat, before sniffing again in that haughty way he did. Like an audible pan-reset. His face cools, but his fins are still flared and the growl still burns under his voice. “ W-Whatewer. Ewen if that w-were true, then you’d hawe to tell her you been sittin’ here blackflirtin’ w-with me instead a helpin’ me w-with this stupid fuckin’ code.”
The room is silent for all of a second.
“I’m sure she w-wouldn’t take wery kindly to you fightin’ w-with me, regardless a’ the context.”
“Blackfliirtiing wiith you?” Your eyebrows raise like you were surprised, face scrunching up in distaste. This is what you get for being an asshole and quadrant illiterate. This fucking guy thought everyone was flirting with him all the time, especially you, just because you disagreed with his bullshit.
“ii2 that what you thiink thii2 ii2? iim not helpiing you becau2e youre a diick, ii dont fuckiing care about piitch or you liike that” you turn your head back to your computer to keep typing at a faster pace. Keep the nerves out of it, you really don’t want to be having this conversation right now especially when you were so close to finishing this stupid application.
“Really, ii thought you were 2uppo2e two be tryiing to get 2erket2 arm two go haywire. But youre the one 2iittiing here blackfliirtiing wiith me. How ii2 that any fuckiing diifferent fii2hface” you scowl at him because he was technically a hypocrite in this situation. Fucking dumbass.
There’s a sharp kick to the back of your chair that causes it to spin back around, practically ripping your hands from the keyboard. For a fucking pipsqueak he’s strong in ways you weren’t expecting. No where near Zahhak-strong but pretty damn impressive for some punk you had like four inches on.
His glare is sharp and intense in a way you hadn’t seen before, at least not directed at you.
“ Wasn’t done fuckin’ talkin, fucker. ”
Oh, you’d gotten under his skin with that one, and you didn’t even know how.
You pause again but not as long this time. Turning to look at him with a glare and furrowed eyebrows, the smirk doesn’t leave your face. That was all it really took to get to him? He was really building up some thick skin there. You turn back to your computer with a shake of your head like you were dismissing him. An action that basically screamed ‘you’re being a wriggler.’
Just because you knew it would piss him off.
“miight a2 well be, nobodiie2 fuckiing lii2teniing nookface .” You drag out the ‘C’ in that as if you were making a point. You start typing again, slowly like you were taunting him to even try to keep going.
“ You look at me, bloodfucker .” Once again using that tone of authority, demanding that you have to put your eyes on him, because he’s better than you, because he told you to and you must . Once again accusing you of being lesser, and using Feferi’s station to raise your own.
When he spins you around to look at him again he’s close enough to hold the arm of your chair in place. His fins are flared, sharp and angry. You can’t help but wonder if he’s projecting. Even both being seadwellers, there’s something defensive enough in his eyes that makes you think maybe FF being heir does set them leagues enough apart to be a castechaser.
You growl and lean in just a bit, your claws flexing outwardly like you dared him to get even a shred closer to find out what happens next. You were not in the mood to deal with him- although you’re never in any good mood anyway- and unlike him your growl actually was a growl. No strange noise to it, you just sounded like a pissed off fucking animal. Thank your lusus for that one.
“pii22 off and go fuckiing cull your2elf. ” you snarl at him, fucked up teeth only making it seem more intimidating than the description of ‘two 6 sweep olds about to fight.’ Nobody got to fucking insult you like that to your face, especially not Eridan.
“Fuck no, I outta cull you for ewen suggestin’ such a thing, but I think you'd fuckin ’ enjoy that . You look forw-ward t'dyin’ just so you can get ‘er lips on ya?”
He snarls. “‘Cause she don't kiss pale like that w-which can only mean she's not giwen you the attention you're needin’.”
He watches your expression for a moment, growl in his throat.
“Ear tw-witched again. Gotcha, didn't I?”
Why the fuck did he care enough to keep fucking talking? Just to see you run in circles and cover your ears and yell at him? Not fucking happening, you’re not letting him have anything over you.
Your psi crackles showing you are truly annoyed with him. So done with his bullshit you were ready to sink your claws into his arm and toss him into space. Knowing him, he would like that though. Ugh.
You’ve only got a few options here, and the safest one that you knew would probably catch him off guard had to do with you and not her. So you double in, double down on it like a trump card.
“why are you 2o caught up iin what iim doiing anyway?” steeling yourself for this conversation, you look at him disinterestedly.
“Why are you 2o curiiou2?” your claws grip into the side of this awful swivel chair.
“are you tryiing two fliirt wiith me?”
“Are you jealou2?”
You can see the way his face screws up and turns shades. He shoves the chair backwards and steps away from you, arms crossed and pouty. “ W-W-W-What?! Am not—! Do not ewen make me gag Captor—!” His voice cracks, fins stained so violet they could’ve been bleeding. “You fuckin’ w-wish i w-was because if you had me in your quads you’d at least amount t’somethin’ other than bein’ just a coddamn battery , w-would you?! I w-wouldn’t ewen keep you on my ship!”
He’s digging in now, hands balled into fists so the melanization of the tops of his hands turns white . Biting at you. Turning you into an object— because of course he is.
That’s what he always did.
Your psi makes sure his shove doesn’t send you tipping backwards, face still flat but with something else sharp to it. You were entertained in a way, but also fucking pissed. He wanted to hurl terms like that? You knew one just for him.
“Liike iid want a chumbucket iin my fuckiing quad2. You thiink iid 2toop that fuckiing low? Dii2gu2tiing. ” oh the implications on that were vile. That you, a lowblood, refused one of the highest castes possible because he wasn’t worth your time.
You’re slowly standing up, claws flexing anew like it’s going out of style. You place a foot forwards and one back- common fighting position for psionics- and both of your hands raise with another loud electric snap. If he wanted to do this, you weren’t going to let him get even close to fucking winning.
Because losing to him is almost an even bigger embarrassment than having to talk to him.
He recoils at the term like you physically struck him. His eyes go wide, and then he snarls . You don’t miss the way his fins tip back. You don’t miss the way his lip almost quivers. You’re busy trying to read him for his next move, predict his attack before he hits it, but all you’re noticing is the imperceptible ways he crumbles.
You hit him where it hurt. He’s trying to cross his arms like he’s not intimidated but you can see the ways he shrinks into himself.
“ W-What did you just call me?” His voice almost shakes.
Fuck, and now he’s going to cry about it? Are you serious?
You scowl at him, he couldn’t even handle a word but claimed to be so high and mighty? He really was an oversized wriggler. You don’t change stances but you just slightly falter because hey you were expecting a fight first, not his stupid big barkbeast eyes.
“ chumbucket, no way you havent heard that one before.” you over pronounce it with a hiss, still taunting him. The only way to get this guy off your fucking back was to go all fucking in and baby they just gave you a second shovel.
“Or do your fiin2 work a2 well a2 your quadrant2 do?" you keep bringing up quadrants because he was so insistent on how important they were, making fun of his wreck of a quad life and also questioning his seadwelling status should be enough to make him fuck off.
Fuck. This. Guy.
That snarl solidifies and his fins perk back up, flaring again. The shock had solidified into outrage which solidified into anger. His pupils become slits and his arms uncross. He unclips his stupid fucking cape and lets it drift to the ground. His growl is a little more steady.
“ You don’t know-w anythin’. ”
And then the motherfucker swings, straight forward, with enough force to cut through your psi and strike your cheek. It’s slowed down just enough that it stings but doesn’t ache, and that fact alone is kind of fucking alarming. You underestimated him. He’s a strong motherfucker. That right there could have easily left you concussed if you weren’t ready for it.
He’s never fucking swung on you before, though .
Whatever forbidden seal of ‘no getting physical’ between the both of you is broken. Your eyes widen behind your glasses for a second before you’re pouncing on the guy and swinging as hard as you could into his opposite cheek without a care for your own life. If you got concussed, killed, or anything in between you were fine with that. You didn’t give a shit what you did with your body.
You’re definitely nowhere near as strong as he was strength wise, but you make up for it twofold in psionic abilities. Psi rips from your fist and leaves a stinging burning sensation across his face, then you’re swinging again. And again. Like he was just a punching bag for you to use.
The air is full of static and you’re growling again, because fuck knows he didn’t listen to words. Why couldn’t he just fucking go away when you told him to? He was the most inactive listener you unfortunately knew. Why the fuck did Feferi have to invite him to this stupid game?
His back hits the floor with a painful thud and so do your knees, but it doesn’t matter because you’re scrambling on top of him. He blocks most of your blows but not all, and you would’ve gotten a pretty good hit on his delicate fucking nose if he didn’t dodge to his right, so you clip his earfin instead. Still makes him yelp, and forms a blood bruise within the thin membrane. There’s something a little mystifying about watching the burst capillaries spread in real time.
Too mystifying, because he gets his knee underneath you and rolls you over. He’s got one fist in your shirt and one knee in your chest and his fist cocked back before it strikes across your face again, this time landing solidly enough to knock your glasses off your face. You can feel the way the rings on his hand split the skin there. His scarf is half-tangled underneath somebody’s limbs and would make a great handle if you weren’t trying to guard from his next punch. He hits harder than you. Feferi told you how hard he trained with her, but you didn’t believe it.
Fuck, now you do.
A louder snarl rips from your throat as his next punch is stopped just before it hits you again, psi running over his entire body. He was in your bubble now, and he was going to have to deal with that. Sure, maybe he trained- even though it didn’t look like it- but you doubt he had ever trained against a psionic, especially one like you.
You turn your head to look at him, glasses across the room forgotten and giving your expression an even sharper look as you search his face. He looked scared, but when did he not? It was a pretty common reaction to having your own body not work with you, being controlled by something else.
Something you knew all too well.
You watch his eyes shift as you reel his own trembling fist back slowly, before letting it rip into his face. There you go. Now you had matching ring split skin. You laugh at him, psi thrumming so loudly in your ears you could almost taste it on your tongue.
“ quiit hiitiing your2self dumba22 ” your mouth settles into a smirk. Like you finally had him where you wanted him. Gripping at his stupid scarf since you no longer needed to play defense, you flip him over again so you’re on top of his chest, using your height and boney skeleton against him and yanking the scarf like you were going to choke him out.
“you even fiight liike a biitch. cant do any better than that?” you know you’re egging him on at this point but there wasn’t much else to do on the meteor anyway, and even then… when was the last time you got to have this much fun?
He proves you right almost immediately by punching you in the ribs. His other hand grabs his scarf and wraps it in one hand, before bringing that hand into your shirt to yank you down with him. There’s something sharp and scared in his eyes, in his scent , and with a sharp shove he’s rolled on top of you again, too close for comfort with how you’re pulling on his scarf.
You’re close enough to hear the way he wheezes, close enough to feel his breath on your face, at least until he pulls his head back and slams his hornbridge your face.
Oh this piece of shit, he did in fact fight like a fucking bitch. Fine. Two can play at that game.
As opposed to him, you don’t even smell scared. Excited to fight maybe, but there was no fear to you because you knew he was too much of a fucking coward to even try killing anyone let alone you. The way he fought told you that, and even if he did it’s not like you wouldn’t come back again and kick his ass twice as hard.
Now that would be a story for the Reaper.
“ 2ewer-dweller, ” Your chest hurts from his punch, and you can feel where his skin’s burned mildly from psi. Hell you could smell that too. Gripping at his shirt you’re way too close to him, and he’s way too close to you. Your own skin feels like it’s on fire because you hate touch and yet here you were tumbling on the ground with him.
You suddenly spin with surprising strength- coming from the anger of not wanting to lose- and kick him into the metal desk, completely having let go and gotten him at least 5 feet away from you. The way his back hits it sounds nasty. Oh well.
Be a bitch you will. Nobody said you couldn’t use the stage hazards.
He groans audibly, reeling from the sharp pain in the back. All it seems to do besides wind him is cause his shirt to ride up, and as he leans a little to tear his scarf away from his neck you can see a spiderwebbing of crack-like scars— like the skin was split on impact– light against his still-darkening skin, right where you sent him into the desk. Shit, clearly you weren’t the first to try that move on him.
He should’ve seen it coming, then.
But the throw sent him skittering past the horn pile, and he grabs one and throws it overhand with honestly mesmerizing accuracy—
But you duck and use your psi to send it sailing away from you. You smirk at him, glancing up to make sure it’s gone. Only he’s up on his feet and rushing you, a sharp kick to the stomach again making you heave and knocking the wind out of you.
You hear the horn honk against the wall and suddenly its smacking you in the back of the head. This shit is starting to give you a migraine.
Eridan’s almost got you pinned under a desk and his foot is reeled back for another kick.
You hiss and curl into a ball at his stomach kick, turning over to get on all fours despite the small area you’ve got to work with and avoiding his second kick. Grabbing his ankle with your claws, you pull on his leg using his lack of balance to your advantage here and he crashes to the ground in front of you.
Digging into his skin, your ears are up at him but your chest is quiet. No growl, no nothing because you were too distracted trying not to fucking laugh at your own idea. With a wicked grin you stand up on shaking legs- that stupid kick took it more out of you than you thought- and grab both his ankles. Using your psi, you flip him over your shoulder several feet across the room with decent aim. What were you aiming for?
The horn pile.
The sudden clash of his body pressing into them, then off because they’re not great to land on, causes them all to scream. It’s the loudest thing you’ve ever heard and holy fucking shit you’re cackling at him, one hand gripping your throbbing stomache.
Clownfish.
You can’t even hear whatever profanity Eridan is hurling at you with how loud the cacophonous and discordant SHREEEEEEEEEEE!!!! Directly behind him. He’s wincing and gripping his back, surely from all the sharp and abrasive metal bits he just landed on, but half-way through his sentence he’s just got his earfins folded down and is just wincing at the sound.
For once in his fucking life he shuts his mouth.
He blushes all the way up his visible neck as he sits up, only causing more rancorous shrieking from the horn pile as it announces his every move. He looks his age, for once— only 6, maybe he’s almost 7 by this point, you know he crawled out of the caverns a little sooner than the rest of your brood— lips pulled in a thin line. His cheek is bleeding and his lip is busted, but he doesn’t look mad. He just looks… embarrassed? Bewildered? Annoyed? Somewhere in between.
There’s a moment of silence.
“M’gonna fuckin’ kill you.” It has no bite to it. “You motherfucker.”
His voice shakes, trying to smother his own giggles. You can see it on his face, the way he’s screaming fuck you this is serious shit sol.
How the fuck could it be when you got the horn pile involved?
Your grin settles back into a smirk as you turn your body half away from him, left foot in front of you.
“what? ii cant hear you the horn piile mu2tve made me go deaf. a ble22iing 2o ii never have two hear a word from you agaiin” you make a show of pretending to clean your ear, making it harder for him to see the blatant twitch of it.
Sure yeah this was definitely serious. How the fuck did you even get here anyway? Sometimes you felt like your brain would lock in on his words alone and you were forced to deal with how stupid he was. Ugh.
Your hand reaches out to your side and the cape he dropped is now in your grasp. It’s soft under your hand, the material not nearly as expensive or luxurious as you thought, but instead focused on comfort. It’s like a fucking blanket. You bring a claw to the front of it- ready to tear it to shreds- turning your gaze back to him like you dared ruin his cape, a sign of his caste and what he thought was authority and respect.
You absolutely dared.
“ Oh no you fuckin’ don’t —”
The hornpile shrieks again as he jumps to his feet, and suddenly his arms are around your waist, horns ramming into your ribs and almost into your grubscars in an impact so close you nearly jump in his grasp . His hands burn around you as one grabs a fistful of the back of your pants and the other slides up your back and under your shirt the fucker and he’s pulling you over his shoulder and—
SCHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
He fucking suplexes you into the horn pile, sending you neck-deep and him ass-first into a fucking cluster of metal and rubber and cones and noise.
The cape fumbles from your grasp, somehow blanketing both of you underneath it.
What the fuck.
Your body cries out in pain at the stupid metal on the horns, but you only grimace with a sharp breath like you were used to covering up the sound of being hurt. How was this supposedly the most comfortable seat they had on the fucking meteor?
Kicking sorely at Eridan from under the cape- which was beautifully soft still what the fuck- only produces more shrieks from the horns. You move to untwist yourself slowly, pausing to stop that incessant fucking noise like you were on your ds after bedtime and needed to be sneaky about it.
You groan and put a hand to your temple when you’ve finally untwisted yourself. This fucking sucked. Using your other to pull a horn out of your side, you hold it up to your face and impulsively honk it. Well, when it was one it was fine.
“what the fuck wa2 that?” you don’t sound mad. In pain a little yeah, but mostly dumbfounded. He wanted serious and brought you back to the horn pile anyway. He really was one big wriggler that had no toys as a kid.
Eridan flinches from the horn as you squeak it. “‘Fuck do ya mean ‘what the fuck wath that?’” He even makes fun of your lisp, sticking his tongue out at you, stained violet from where his lip was bleeding. He licked at the wound, clicking. He looked like a fucking guy, like this. It was weird. His hair was sticking up at odd angles from the static of the cape and your psi and without the scarf and the cape to give him such a striking— not that you would be caught dead calling it that because there was no way it was, you just knew that’s what he was going for — silhouette he was literally just in a long-sleeved shirt and some stupid pinstripe corduroys. Even his sleeves were bunched up to his elbows showing off more scars— a jagged one over his left arm that looked like someone took a sharp knife and just dragged.
He sniffed, wiping his cheek. The act of moving that much caused the horns to squeak again.
“Fuck you. Now-w w-we’re both in the stupid horn pile.”
Thank fuck he couldn’t see where you were looking, because unfortunately you were fascinated by scars and that one on his arm was gnarly. You scoff at him, covering a laugh with your annoyance.
“ii gue22 w-we are” Fuck him, if he was going to make fun of the fact your teeth were too big for your face then you could make fun of his stutter. Seems like no matter what everyone and anyone would find their way back to the horn pile. What was with that?
“but now what the fuck do we do about iit” you lightly touch where he broke the skin on your face, half dried gold on your fingers. You grip the cape and use the inside part to wipe the blood off of you, ignoring his noise of annoyance. His problem now. The urge to fight him had diminished severely, only the aftermath left behind.
Eridan just rolls his eyes at you using his cape like a towel, but doesn’t complain more than a disgusted scoff (it had been stained with blood before, and it would wash out with no problem) . He sighs through his nose, leaning back on his elbows and cringing at the sound it makes.
He blows a few disheveled strands of violet hair out of his face. You can see where they were starting to turn white at the roots. Then he looks at you, without the defense of your two-toned glasses, mouth pulled into a line as he looks at either of your eyes before down to his arm.
Then he has the audacity to smirk.
“I don’t know-w, you tell me. You’re the one checkin’ me out.”
What. You turn your head at a normal pace and he can fully see the way your face scrunches up in annoyance. Your eyes are a little squinted at him, like you were judging him. He was just saying that. No fucking way he could tell.
“what?” you huff at him and he can see how the skin under your eyes crinkles, how your nose flexes like you were angry. It’s weirdly vulnerable being this close under a cape that smells just like him, pressed into the worst fucking horns known to man.
“what the fuck are you talkiing about?”
He snorts, tilting his head at you like you were stupid. “For all your talk about how-w disgustin’ I am you sure are lookin’, Sol. Actin’ like you newer seen a scar before.”
He scoffs pompously, before turning his eyes away from you to the cape. He fidgets with his rings as he sneers.
“I hawe more, you know-w.”
There was the slightest inclination in his voice, like it was a proposition. Like it was a fucking dare.
Oh gross was he asking you out?
“iim not lookiing at 2hiit the liightiing on thii2 fuckiing rock 2uck2” it was always the lighting you’d blame it on. Said it made you look like you had a pupil every now and then. You’re still glaring at him, lips pressed in a fine line of annoyance. Yeah, that was it. He couldn’t tell actually he was just seeing things wrong.
“iive 2een plenty of 2car2 ii dont need two 2ee your2. gro22” scowling, you fold your arms, turning your head back to the ceiling and the movement makes the horns start to squeak again. Fucks sakes.
But your eyes drift back to the skin anyway. What the fuck had done that to him? Didn’t matter that it was him, you were unfortunately just a guy who liked to know things.
“bet theyre not a2 cool a2 miine.” You’ll double down. That’s what you did, because backing out meant he won. And you were not a fucking loser.
His fins wiggle a little bit, you’ve gotten his attention but he just rolls his eyes.
“Do you? W-want to bet?” He clicks his tongue, “Keep it up an’ you might get out a’ this w-with some cooler ones.”
He snorts, moving— accompanied by more squealing— to snap his fingers to the right side of your face, then to the left.
He clicks his tongue, all smug and shit all over again.
You realize what that was a second before he announces it. He was tracking the movement of your eyes this motherfucker was calibrating your eye movements.
“Told you you w-were too easy.”
What the actual fuck.
Your eyes widen, and you ignore every comment he made except that one. He could tell what you were fucking looking at, meaning he must have spent hours staring at you to figure it out. Sweeps even.
He knew you all too fucking well and that bothered you.
Body surging in anger, you sit up ignoring the harsh sound of all the horns. The cape slides off you both as your claws find his throat, the tips of them over his gills. Leaned over him like this- let’s not kid anyone you were sitting on top of him again- your eyes bore into his, mismatched colours all the more intimidating with the emotions swirling in them.
Everything you felt always cycled back into the same thing. Anger. If anyone thought Karkat was angry, they’d never seen you before.
He could see where it all came from though. Embarrassment. Shame. Fear.
You didn’t care about ruining your body, fighting him, or blowing up, or even becoming a pilot.
Sollux Captor was scared of being known.
One of his hands found one of his wrists and pulled sharply up on it, pressing it harder into the hinge of your jaw. You might have taken it as some sick show of desperation, or some arrogant show of how little this intimidated him, but he wasn’t smirking. His other hand sweeps your arm off his throat altogether, barring your arm and shifting his hips and pulling you down by the sleeve of your shirt just enough to tip you off balance, forcing you to hold yourself up on your arms.
The horn pile shrieked at the change in pressure, but Eridan didn’t. Not even as your hands dug deeper into his throat, claws scraping the skin beneath his earfins enough to bleed, did he make anything more than a grunt.
You could see the way his eye twitches, the way his knees shuffle to get underneath you. His grip on your shirt readjusts, he scratches you through the fabric as he grabs. His claws did into your wrist, and then suddenly he’s ripping your arm away from his throat and it comes back down directly between his teeth.
When you wrench your hand again, he’s licking both his and your blood off of his teeth, eyes dark and calculating like a predator . He still smells like fear but there’s nothing wild in his eyes. You clicked something in place that kept his face completely stoic. Ruthless. Efficient. Killer . That’s what he’d been hatched to be, wasn’t it?
And now you get to see it with your own two eyes.
To think he’s showing you because you got too close to his gills. You can’t even figure out why, they look little more than scars themselves, covered in a nice, thick protective layer of skin or prongs or scales or whatever.
But the look on his face is as guarded as your own.
There’s the sting of recognition in his eyes, that makes you feel sick to your fucking stomach.
He was scared, too. Scared of you learning him like he was learning you.
“ WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO FUCKING DOING!??”
Karkat’s voice cracks as he yells from the doorway.
Oh my fucking gog, Karkat.
You wretch yourself away from Eridan, to your feet despite the groans of your knees and the wail of the horns. You haven’t stopped looking at him, glare still piercing right through his stupid fucking existence as you cradle your hand to your chest, slouched and guarded like a wild animal who just had their trust broken.
You open your mouth to say something but you can’t find anything. It’s the look in his eyes that has you pushing back from him.
He understood, and you don’t like that.
A growl at least presses from your throat. Annoyed, Pissed off, a warning.
Because if he said another fucking word you would jump him again with no fucking remorse.
“...nothiing” You finally say while turning to glance at your abandoned computer project, but refusing to turn your back on him.
Nobody would be that much of a fucking idiot.
Eridan’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, glaring hard and venomous but you could see the gears shifting and stalling in his head.
“ Do you really fucking expect me to believe that? Do you think I’m that fucking stupid?! Oh my gog, you can’t seriously have been indulging him!!”
Karkat’s voice is squeaky and shrill with secondhand embarrassment.
Turning around, you realize the whole doorway is crowded, like everyone in the fucking meteor heard the commotion and came to check in. Fuck, they probably did. Who the hell decided having a horn pile was a good idea.
“You— Don’t fucking tell me you’re actually blackflirting with him. In the fucking hornpile you fucking troglodytes . Is nothing sacred? Are you so fucking apathetic that you hold nothing above your weird little pitchspat with—”
“ Can it, Kar .” Eridan growls from the floor. He rolls himself up to his feet, snatching his cape and his scarf from the floor, tucking them under his arm. “Can’t imagine I’d ewer get caught dead pitchin’ for some mutant-minded freak .”
He says that, but he spits the gold in his mouth at the floor. He’s comically dismissive, considering he was the one offering to show you his scars and offering to give you more . Looking at the wound on your hand gives you the fear that he might’ve, but its not bleeding hard enough for it to scar.
But you can see the way his earfins are folded back, almost resigned . His eyes aren’t nearly harsh enough like they were just moments ago. There’s something distinctly self-pitying in your eyes and everything FF has told you about him is starting to click.
He loves to play the fucking bad guy, for whatever reason. The idea of him taking the fall to prevent some mutually-assured-embarrassment seems the most plausible explanation.
It still feels unbelievable, considering everything he just told you he has on you and the vacuum of nothingness it feels like you have on him.
“You stay the fuck away from him, you fucking pervert. ” Karkat snarls, like his runty ass might do any better against Eridan in a fight than you did.
Eridan just cocks his head like Karkat just said the funniest thing in the world. It’s all sneers and sarcasm from him but…
You’re starting to learn how to look for the cracks.
“ W-What? Don’t tell me you’re fuckin’ jealous .”
Eridan storms off, cape thrown over his shoulder.
“ Out of my fuckin w-way .” He growls to the curtain of their peers, all of which stare on with some kind of shock, horror, or embarrassment.
You give another huff, not turning around until he fully leaves the room. Picking up your chair that had tipped over at all your fighting, you move to sit right back down at your computer, ignoring every single look and muttered comment you’re getting.
Like it never even happened.
Your glasses find you again, lifted off the floor with psi and settling onto your sore face.
Your fingers resume an okay speed with one hand as you put the other still mildly bleeding in your mouth, tasting the colour of him under your claws and feeling the bruises and marks he left on your skin. Those would definitely be fun to deal with a few hours from now.
You scowl to yourself, ears pressed back and twitching in annoyance at the fact you had just fucked up the most recent function. Nothing in this string needed to involve a CA at all and yet here it stared back at you, reflected in your glasses.
Tapping at the backspace key, your hand has stopped bleeding enough that you can get back to work fully. If life worked like code did everything would be so much simpler.
Back cracking as you slouch down lower, you decide to make a promise to yourself.
You’re never going near the fucking horn pile again.