Chapter Text
You manage to get all the way through showering and drinking scalding leaf water and awkward staring before the axe falls.
“Wwe should talk,” Eridan says, quiet but authoritative, and you nod like a man awaiting execution.
“…yeah, okay.”
He sits away from you, on the lounge stool opposite to the plank, and you try not to look gutted and empty. This is it, isn’t it? He’s finally gotten his shit together enough to realise you’re not what he wants, not what anyone wants, not really.
“Sol,” ED starts, and you swallow convulsively. “Let me just get this out, okay? This is presumptuous, but I feel like I’m goin’ fuckin’ crazy, an' I need to say some shit.”
“Okay,” you repeat croakily.
Richly violet eyes pierce directly into you. “You’re… Sol, you’re pitch for me, aren't you?” Seeing you open your mouth, he hurries along, “I mean, you act pale an' you act pitch, an' I knoww you an' Kar used to havve that wweird pitch-pale thing goin' on, but listen…”
You stare at him, words straining against your clenched teeth.
“…I can’t fuckin' believve I’m doin' this,” he mutters, and slumps forward with his face in his hands. “I can’t do it. Okay, Sol? I don’t knoww if, if pitch-pale is the only wway you can do moirallegiance, but I just can’t fuckin' do it. I’m sorry.”
“Tho you’re breaking up with me?” You force out, mouth dry and head pounding. There are a thousand things to address, but for whatever reason, it doesn’t feel like any of them would make a difference. You knew it’d end like this, you fucking idiot. You knew it.
He lets out a noise unpleasantly close to a sniffle and you jerk, wanting to comfort him, unsure whether you’re allowed to. “No, I mean- fuck, honeybee, I don’t wwant to. But I just- I can’t, I can’t do another pitch relationship. I just got out of one, an'-“ Eridan raises his face from his palms, wan and trembling, “-an' she hurt me, okay? It wwas constant, an' it wwas awwful, an' she just fuckin' hurt me. I knoww that’s wwhat kismeses do, an' I’m just a wweak fuckin’ cowward, but I don’t wwant to do that again-“
“Kithmetheth are meant to make you thtronger, not fucking brutalithe you!” You cut in, and you’re going to kill her, Serket’s done enough in the past sweeps but this time you are going to kill her-
“Sol,” ED‘s words waver and shake, and he sounds fucking terrified. “Sol, can you- could you put the psii awway, please? I d-don’t wwanna fight.”
“But-“ you extinguish the sparks guiltily, focus on your shivering maybe-moirail instead. “But, I-“
“I don’t wwant to break up wwith you!” Eridan emphasises, “I just- I don’t knoww howw pitch this is for you, but evven though I wwant to givve you wwhat you wwant, obvviously, all the time, I can’t fuckin' do it. I don’t wwant you to hurt me. I d-don’t wwant you to wwant to hurt me, an' you can’t help it, but- I knoww I’m annoyin’ an' you’re out of my league an' there wwas alwways gonna be a catch somewwhere, but- wwell.” He laughs, low and tragic. “Just havvin’ you like me, tolerate me, these past feww wweeks felt like it wwas too good to be true. I’m sorry.”
Oh god, he’s crying and you can’t help it, you can’t even differentiate the kinds of flush you are for him, you just pity him so bad-
“Fuck, ED, jutht c’mere,” you mutter, leaning forward to pat him, hold him, anything-
He breathes in sharply, a wet, scared noise, and dodges your hand.
A knife through the bloodpump would’ve been kinder.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, delicate tears blossoming. “I’m sorry, fuck, don’t touch me. I ww-wwant you to so bad, but I can’t- if you’re vvacillatin’ pitch for me, I can’t do it. I don’t wwant to lead you on, I just can’t. I’m sorry, I swwear, I’m grateful an' I wwant to make you happy but I can’t do it, I’m sorry-“
He’s heaving gulps of air now, wrecked little thing, and you’re too worried to feel numb yet. “Hey, deep breathth.”
“I don’t wwant you to hate me,” he confesses, soft and sad. “Evven if it’s just a fling. I wwant you to feel good, you knoww? I’d havve let you, any other time, but noww you’vve been so fuckin' swweet, the nicest anyone’s evver been to me, an' it wwas all goin' to fuckin' burn, I’m so stupid-“
“Pleathe let me touch you,” you say- fuck it, you beg, shifting so close you can taste salt in the air. “ED, pleathe.” If you can just pat his head, just rub his back-
“-an' I thought I could deal wwith it if it meant I could, could- you knoww- but I’m so fuckin' desperate an' so scared an' I can’t keep just wwaitin' for the axe to fall-“
You can see him crumbling into little shards, you need to hold him, you need to keep him together; he leans away from you, still talking.
“-an' it’ll just make things wworse, I wwant to, but you’re goin' to hurt me an' I can’t- you hate me, I guess, an' I tried so hard to not be hateable, but I think maybe I’m just-“
“Eridan,” you repeat. “Pleathe.”
And he dissolves into tears fully, just wracked and trembling and tired, and you move forward and kiss them off his cheeks, cup his face in your hands and stroke his jawline, the smooth flare of his lovely fins, and he melts and mewls and gives in.
“Sol-“
“Come here, come on, babe, that’th it, you’re good-“
He goes limp, eyes wide and sparkling as you squeeze him into you, panicking. “Wwhy are you doin' this, Sol?”
“I love you.”
Oh shit.
“Wwhy are you-“ he stops. “Wwhat.”
“I’m in love with you,” you say, and even though your bloodpump feels like it might just stop pounding, it’s such a tangible weight lifted off your shoulders that you feel almost relieved. You’re so fucking tired, and it’s not a lie, and at this point you don’t know what you have to lose that would be worth him. “Thorry.”
“Sol,” he chokes. “Sol, you don’t havve to do this-“
“I’m not lying.”
“This doesn’t make sense.”
You swallow hard, words coming out flat and stiff but genuine. “I’m tho in love with you, fithh fathe. Thorry. I didn’t mean to.”
"I-" He lurches up and grabs you, eyes wild. “Wwhat the fuck does that evven mean?”
You search inside for a spark of anger or frustration or anything, anything to match the sheer incandescence of his stare, but all you feel is numb. “I know you don’t- I know, FF, and- you wanted a moirail. I wanted to, to be your- anything, I guethth.”
“So, ww-wwhat, you’re sayin' you’re flush for me?” ED hisses. “Are you high?”
You gulp. “Uh. Pink? I’m not- I’m pale for you. Obviouthly. And altho fluthh. I jutht, I fucking pity you a lot, okay?”
“You don’t.”
“Thorry.”
“This isn’t funny, Sol!” He emphasises, voice dipping and cracking. “I can't-"
“I’m not joking.”
“But you-“
You lean forward into his arms, drained. “I’m thorry. I didn’t ever mean to make thith your problem.”
“Sol!” Eridan repeats, and his prongs tilt your face towards his. “Sol. You'vve scratched up the upholstery, split my lip, an' you grabbed me by the neck earlier. I knoww you didn’t mean to hurt me, an' I trust you, but you clearly wwant to-“
“I’m tho thorry,” you cut in again, dragging a hand over your face. “I jutht- I wanted to thee you. Your fathe. I wathn’t being careful enough, but I thwear it wathn’t a pitch thing. I’ve jutht- look, I wath kinda drunk when I kiththed you, and my thelf-control ith abtholutely thhit, and tho is my coordination. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I never-“ your mouth works silently for a moment, habitually suppressing your too-raw words, then you sigh. “I never want to hurt you, okay? I don’t want you to be hurt.”
And then, because you’re an idiot drunk on proximity and emotional catharsis, you mutter, “…It wath fucking hell, theeing how Therket treated you.”
“No, I mean- you wwere probably just jealous,” he reasons, blushing. “Pitch j-“
“I wathn’t fucking jealouth,” you emphasise, wincing when he flinches. “Well. Kinda-“
His fins droop down.
“-becauthe thhe wath in a quadrant with you!” You hurry to finish, stroking at his back. “Not cauthe I- fuck. Look. How would you feel if FF kept thhowing up to platheth all bruithed and twitchy and withdrawn?”
“I’m not Fef-“
“Yeah. You’re more itholated and you’re lonely and you think you detherve it. I’m not worried about FF, thhe can take care of herthelf-“
“An' I can’t?” He cuts in, face blotchy with tears but words as sharp as knives.
“I think you can,” you admit, and then force the words out through a barrier of long-held restraint, “I don’t think you thhould have to.”
“That’s-“
“God, ED, I jutht want you to be happy, okay? I’ve been trying not to pity you for yearth, but you’re tho gogdamn pitiable and you came to me when you were having a breakdown and it jutht-“ you look away. “I don't know how to go back.”
“Back to wwhat?” ED pushes, staring at you like he can make you make sense if he tries hard enough. Ouch. “Sol, you hate me. Or you at least don't like me. Wwe get along, but you nevver pester me or ask to vvisit or anythin'. I figured you wwere toleratin' me because you wwere goin' to flush F-Fef.”
“Oh.”
“An' the fights!” The seadweller points up at you, confident in his constant, torturous self-loathing. “You wwent hard on me. You don’t pity me. Especially wwhen Fef wwas wwatchin’, you wwere so flushed for her that you wwouldn’t evven try to-“
“You wanted to imprethth her.” You interrupt flatly. “I wanted to imprethth you. I wanted you to rethpect me and thee me ath more than jutht a fucking rival. I’m thuch an idiot, holy fuck - again, my control ithn’t great, okay? If it helpth, it uthed to make me thick when I acthidentally thhocked you.”
“…wwhat? Wwhy?”
“Becauthe it hurt you,” you hold his shoulders, desperate to explain. “You’d try to walk it off, and you’d try to act like you didn’t care, but you did and you alwayth looked tho fucking lonely. I uthed to think about-“ you pause, flustered, and realise you’re ranting manically at someone who’s trying to break up with you. “Thorry.”
“Wwhat did you think about?” He asks reedily.
“…you.” You mumble, face burning. “I thought maybe I’d bump into you thome time. And you had that pink thing for FF, but maybe you’d need a pale fling or thomething, and you’d let me hold you, and I’d kithth the bruitheth on your knuckleth and apologithe for every fucking thcrape and you’d realithe I wath the better pale option all along.”
When you finally dare meet his eyes again, they’re glossy with tears.
“Sol…”
You clear your throat, embarrassed. “Obviouthly, that’d require me to even be an option in the firtht plathe. Thorry.”
“It wwasn’t pitch? Um. Or just c-concupiscent?” He asks hesitantly.
Oh gog, you don’t want to talk about this. If you can’t have him, can’t you at least have your pride? But he’s here, and he’s listening, and you need to make sure he knows he’s not the issue with you.
“I.” You fiddle with your prongs. “I’m not good at quadrantth. Duality thhit. Or maybe I’m jutht a freak. But no, the pailing thtuff- you were tho pitiable and lonely, and I tried to ignore it, but I wath pale-cruthhing tho hard, and then the thecond I came to termth with it, uh.”
You look at him. He looks at you. For someone so emotive, you can’t read a single thing in the smooth beauty of his face.
“Do you. Uh. Do you remember that time I acthidentally walked in on you and FF. Thwimming?”
Eridan’s brows raise, cautious. “Swwimmin'?”
Right, right, you’ve seen them swim normally thousands of times. Your ears blaze. “…naked.”
He goes suddenly, startling violet and fixes his gaze on his nails. “Oh.”
“Do you remember-“
“Yeah, I remember that,” he mutters wryly, face ducked down. “I wwas humiliated.”
“Thorry, I know you have that theadweller propriety thing-“
“No, dumbass. It wwas, um, you. I thought you wwere cool. I didn’t wwant you to think I wwas tryin' anythin'.” ED’s voice is kind of bitter when he says, “FF an' I wweren’t really close anymore an' you wwere friends wwith me, evven if you kept kickin' my ass at sparrin'.”
“Oh god,” you tighten your grip on him, guilt-ridden. “I’m tho thorry.”
“Wwhat for?”
“Making you think you had to put up with that thhit becauthe I’m a repreththed lother.”
“You make it sound like it’s your fault I’m desperate to the point of masochism,” Eridan mumbles, words light but tone wobbling.
“Hey, I’m the one telling you about- everything.”
He sighs and tilts his head to look at you. “So, wwhat? You saww me an' Fef naked?”
“…yeah.”
“An' you inexplicably wwanted to, um, to pail me instead of her?”
You laugh a little at the sheer doubt in his voice. You thought you were so obvious, that day, how you couldn’t keep your eyes off him for weeks afterwards. “Yeah.”
“…are you makin' fun of me?” He asks in a tiny, flimsily casual tone.
Your laugh cuts out as you smack yourself mentally. “No! No, I jutht… fuck, ED. I thought it wath obviouth. I couldn’t look you in the eyeth for a week.”
“Yeah, because wwe wwere both embarrass-“
“No,” you repeat, strangely energetic. “No, becauthe you were tho thtupidly beautiful, and I thought I hadn’t notithed before. And then I realithed I had, you know? I’d been thinking about your eyeth and thmile and gillth thith whole fucking time, like every awful lead in one of KK’th thhitty filmth.”
You realise he’s not responding too late, and when you do look up to see his reaction, his face is hidden in his hands, fins flickering.
“…ED?”
“Wwhy are you doin' this?” He asks hollowly, hair drying into gossamer curls around his face. “God, Sol, wwhat did I do to you?”
"Thorry.”
“Don’t apologise.”
You look at the wall behind him, try not to creepily fixate on the tremble of his shoulders, then say, “…do you want me to thtop talking?”
“I don’t knoww.” Eridan looks up, dismay fluid beading his eyelashes. “I wwant you to mean this. I think maybe you don’t.”
“Why would I lie about thith?”
“To fuck wwith my head for bein' an entitled, murderous little bastard as a kid.”
“ED, I wath altho an annoying little thhit. Doethn’t change the fact that I am fucking lotht on you.” You gather him close again, breathe in his vanilla smell. “I tried to jutht be pale. But, you know, you’re…”
“Easy?”
“No,” you hiss, feeling your face scrunch up. “What the fuck, who thaid that to-“
His mouth tightens; you trail off.
“Look, there’th nothing wrong with cathual quadrantth, obviouthly, but you’ve been in, what, one conc quad before? How are you eathy?”
“I’m isolated,” he parrots back. “I think I deservve it.”
“Oh. Ith that- do you feel like I’m taking advantage of you?” Gorge rises in your throat, acid burning through your guts. “Did you not want to-“
“No, I didn’t mean…” he sighs and leans into you. “I don’t get wwhy you wwould, uh, wwant me. Sorry. It’s just, you knoww, you’vve got options, an'-“
“I don’t want optionth.” You say like a petulant wiggler refusing naptime.
“I don’t get it,” he repeats. “You see me fail at somethin' an' you go pale for me, then you see me naked an' decide you wwant me? I’m-"
“It wath more of an undeniable realithation that a fucking thiren could walk out of the waveth and I wouldn’t be able to look away,” you tell him, and then wince. This is why you internalise your emotions. “I mean. I had a lot of fluthh and a lot of pale I’d been avoiding in my pan, and then I realithed I’d been thinking about you like that for monthth, and boom, I’m thcrewed.”
“So you wwant to fuck me,” Eridan suggests. “That doesn’t mean-“
“ED, I- of courthe I want to fuck you,” you manage to get out. “But if you were fluthh for me, I would not give a thingle thhit about how you expreththed it."
“…really?” He searches your face for some hint of mockery. “Sol, wwhat, that’s- that’s fuckin’ crazy. Wwhat do you evven havve to gain from that?”
“People quadrant aconcth all the time.” You say, and then make an obscene hand gesture because you are perpetually the embodiment of maturity. “I have handth, dude. And I’d be gaining you, obviouthly, and fuck, you can’t tell KK I thaid that. But.” You take another steadying breath. “I feel like it’th altho obviouth, but in cathe it ithn’t… I’m lonely, too.”
He blinks at you. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Having you here, it’th. It’th good. You make me laugh. And remember to eat food. And thtuff.” You mumble out in embarrassed bursts, fingers twisting into knots.
“So it’s because wwe’re both lonel-“
“No!” You cut in, half exasperated and half earnest. “It’s you. I like you. I love you, and you don’t- you don’t owe me anything, but I want you to know that, okay?”
Eridan sighs. “I really, really wwant to believve you,” he confesses. “But this? It’s not realistic. This isn’t wwhat you wwant.”
“ED, trutht me, I tried denial too. If it maketh you uncomfortable, we could jutht never talk about it again-“
“…can you provve it?” His voice is a tiny whisper through his hands, like he’s worried he’ll startle you.
“Uh.” You think. “Honethtly? Maybe not. I have friendth who, uh, know partth, but they wouldn't jutht tell you. I'm kind of private about thith thhit, too."
He rests his weight against you. “I wwant you to like me. But wwhen it all falls apart, I’ll regret trustin' you. That’s just howw it wworks.”
You curl an arm back around his waist, not sure how to respond, and your eyes fall on the long, swanlike tilt of his bare neck. You like the way your sweatshirts hang from him, you like seeing his collarbones and throat and the minuscule photophores on his shoulders, the pretty ripple of his upper gills that’re usually covered by a high neck or scarf.
Oh.
A thought - a deeply unappealing but revitalising thought - smacks into your head with all the force of a psiionic hooked to a death machine. ED startles and looks up when you groan, brows arching.
“Wwhat?”
Your bloodpump taps skittishly. “Eridan. ED. If I thhow you thomething abtholutely humiliating but relevant, will you promithe not to make fun of me?”
Pale and drawn, he nods cautiously, which only reinforces your decision. Your dignity isn’t worth the sight of him too lost in his own pan to tease you. Not in your gamer basement.
“I’ll be right back,” you promise.
It doesn’t take you long to find it, stowed away in a dusty drawer but still seared clearly into your brain. Eridan stares when you place it gently in his hands and sit back down, his eyes blank.
“This is…”
“Your thcarf,” you supply, already regretting the rare emotional honesty. “Uh. From a thweep or two ago.”
“Uh. Yeah. Sol, I don’t-“
“I took it,” you continue mercilessly, blood pounding your head. “When you left it at FF’th hive. I picked it up and I told mythelf I wath going to return it and I didn’t. I jutht kept it, cluelethth, for fucking ageth until I realithed."
Eridan hums, still looking confused.
You glow with shame. “…it wath becauthe I had a thing for you, alright? I wath thitting there on my loungeplank, and it thmelt good, and then I wath abruptly bludgeoned with the realithation that I wanted you in my pile. And then my platform.”
“Oh,” he repeats faintly.
“I’d like to make it clear, there'th no unromantic reathon for me to have kept thith. I throw thingth out when they aren’t utheful,” you trace your prong down one lavender stripe of cashmere, and you can almost feel all the longing you’ve compressed into it radiate out like a physical aura. “I kept thith, purely becauthe it thmelt like you and it wath better than nothing.”
ED just keeps gaping as you dig your funeral pyre.
“…thorry about thtealing your thcarf,” you mutter. “I promithe I’m not a creepy pervert. I mean. I did thmell it. And keep it for yearth like a thtalker. And-“
“Sol, it’s… it’s fine,” ED interrupts, still looking dazed. “I get it. Wwhy do you think I steal so many of your shirts?”
Before you can even start processing the implications of that statement, his eyes are narrowing. “Wwait. I last saww that scarf-”
You squirm, excruciated.
“Sol…” he stares at you, eyes wide, mouth open, shaken to the core. You fidget on the spot. “Twwo swweeps?”
“Yeah, that’th what I thaid. Two point three, technicall-“ your sentence is forcibly truncated by other factors, by which you mean the mouth suddenly pressed to yours.
Eridan kisses you with a kind of gobsmacked fervour, passionate and a little sloppy like his nerves are temporarily gone. When he does draw back, panting, he looks up at you with starry eyes and asks, “Twwo swweeps?”
“…are you okay?”
“I’m processin'.”
“Yeah. Two thweepth.”
ED’s whole face is something like incredulously delighted, and you don’t even care that your relationship is currently who-knows, because you’ve been waiting for him to look this happy for years.
“I can’t believve it,” he says softly, rubbing a hand over the scarf, but he’s smiling. “I just- I can’t believve it.”
His prong bumps yours. You hold your breath as he keeps moving, covering your hand with his own and then sliding along the anxious tension of your arm, smoothing over the shoulder, all the way up to cup your jaw and turn you to face him.
“…do you promise?” He asks, quiet and earnest.
You nod clumsily; he doesn’t seem to care, because then he’s kissing you again, deep and raw and hungry, and after that it’s only natural for his weight to shift onto you, pushing you over.
You let yourself fall back enthusiastically, arms hovering until he melts down into you, and from then on it’s a dizzy, glorious blur.
“Twwo swweeps,” he keeps repeating, muttered into your ear or moaned against your skin, and his eyes are feverishly bright and captivating. You’re pinned in place. “God, Sol, you, you wwanted this for that long?”
“Yeah.” You muster, creeping your fingers up the tantalising bare skin exposed by his rucked-up shirt.
“I could’vve been doin' th-this for years,” he laments, wonder in his voice, and then he’s glancing down at you with bashful curiosity. “Uh. Sol, did you evver, um…”
You want to whimper.
“…you knoww? Use the scarf to…” he makes the universal gesture for pailing yourself, and squeaks when you nod, fixing your eyes far away from him and his evil sexy powers. “Oh. Oh, wwoww. You’re blushin’, Sol, are you seriou-“
“Yeah, I jacked off to it,” you mutter, brushing your lips against his throat. “I’d imagine you were watching me. Or doing the thame thing, making me watch, clothe enough to touch but not letting me. Making me earn it.”
“Oh…” he arches closer, sighing.
“And then when I wath being pathetic and lonely, I’d thometimeth jutht imagine you lying next to me. Maybe you’d let me play with your hair. You have nithe hair.” The words are stumbling off your tongue in vague confusion, because he’s doing this thing with his hips and you don’t think it’s intentional but- “ED, I don’t know if you, uh-“
“I can’t believve you wwould’vve wwanted this, for fuckin' years,” he murmurs, grinding down with an inexpert rhythm. “I can’t believve I didn’t havve to be so fuckin' lonely.”
“I’m tho-“ he kisses you before you can apologise again, shivering.
“No, I’m- she said I wwas right it wwouldn’t wwork, but maybe I should’vve seen-“
You still. “Who thaid what?”
“…I talk too much wwhen I’m drunk,” ED says quickly. “I’m sorry. I just- I alwways thought, you knoww-“
“Wait. Did you talk to Therket about me?”
He blushes and bites his lip, rolling it back and forth between his razor-teeth. “Don’t freak out.”
You nod reluctantly.
“Vvris kneww I had a- I used to havve a tiny pale thing for you. Maybe.” He takes one look at your aghast face and blanches. “Not in a wweird wway! It’s just, you wwere kind of friendly in a dickish wway, an' I wwasn't used to it, an'- I promise, you don’t havve to wworry about me tryin' anythin' creepy-“
“Eridan-“ you stop, clutching your face. This beautiful, insecure idiot. “God. Firtht of all, try anything, theriouthly, I wouldn’t thtop you. I'd be fucking honoured if you did creepy thhit to me.”
"...Right." His fins flap, and it’s so goddamn cute you almost forget the fiery rage simmering through you.
“And thecondly, I’m going to kill that bitch.”
“Vvriska?” ED’s voice shakes. “Sol-“
“Yeth. Why in the fuck would you take advithe from her, by the way?”
“I don’t knoww,” he snaps back, brows lowering. “She just, she gets in your head! Twwists evverythin' around. It made sense.”
You open your mouth to start growling again and see him shiver, realise he’s actually, genuinely scared. “I’m not-“ you touch his arm gently, stamping the anger down for now. “I’m not mad at you. It’s her. Thhe knew thith whole time, and thhe probably thought it wath hilariouth.”
“Wwell. She kneww I wwas pale for you,” he corrects. “No one kneww that you, you maybe feel the-“
“Thhe knew.” You cut in flatly. “Thief of Light, remember? Why do you think thhe wath alwayth thuch an aththhole when I wath around? Thhe loved to rub it in my face, how thhe got to you firtht and how bad thhe treated you and how protective I wathn’t allowed to feel. Thhe fucking knew.”
“…oh.” Eridan says quietly.
“Yeah,” you reply, and try to divert back to the point - because he’s in your lap, not in a platonic way at all, and you’re not going to let spiderbitch steal that, too. “Tho. Pale, huh?”
He nods hesitantly. “Twwo swweeps.”
“Wait, when I wath thtill dealing with my iththueth by kicking your athth?”
He flicks your shoulder, sighing. “Yeah.”
“ED, what the fuck?”
“I don’t knoww.” Eridan blows a strand of hair from his face, faux-casual but still strung up tight above you. “You talked to me, an’ you listened to me, an' you didn’t pretend to like me.”
“…and that made you like me more?” You question dubiously.
“Look, Captor-“
The face you accidentally pull must be tragic enough that he changes tracks, almost seamlessly.
“Look, Sol, most people I knoww are friends wwith me because they feel bad for me. Like it's an obligation. Kar an' Kan an' Fef, they used to just put up wwith me ‘cause I wwas such a pathetic dipshit. Vvriska wwas re-enactin' her ancestor’s life so she tolerated me. You, though?” His mouth twists upwards slightly when he continues, wry and something like fond. “You don’t tolerate anythin'. You’vve alwways been pretty clear about that. It meant if you wwere spendin’ time wwith me, it wwas because you wwanted to be, an' wwhen you left, you didn’t make dumb excuses like I wwas a spoiled grub. It wwas reassurin'.”
“Jeguth,” you blink. “If it maketh you feel better, I uthed to let you win video gameth becauthe you’d elbow me in victory.”
“Wwhat?”
“It counted ath phythical contact.”
He stares at you, still prettily flushed and looking taken aback. “Sol, that’s… wwoww. That’s kind avv pathetic.”
“I know.”
“In a cute wway, though.” He adds, whispering like he’s worried someone’ll overhear, and your face cracks open into a grin.
“So. You’re, uh, pink for me?” Eridan asks, face still inches from your own.
Your smile dims a little. “Yeah, but if you’re jutht pale for me, I get it, I won’t be-“
“I wwas mostly pale before,” he confesses in a hurried mumble, almost too quiet to overhear. “But evven before I kinda took ovver your hivve, there’vve been. Moments.”
“Momentth?” Your bloodpump throbs in your throat as he squirms.
“Listen, I…” hesitantly, he inspects his nails again. “…wwhen wwe, um, wwhen I- your bulge- uh-“
“I get it.”
“-it wwasn’t exactly the first time I’d evver thought about doin' it,” he admits in a rush. “Sol?”
You beam.
“Sol, say somethin’.”
You beam harder. You might be glowing. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
Your lips hurt. He looks incredulous.
“I’ve nevver seen you smile properly before. I didn’t evven tell you any details.”
“I don’t need them.”
“Okay, wweirdo.”
“But like… were you…” second lewd gesture of the day, nice.
He sputters, looking away. “...Maybe.”
“Oh my gog,” you say, floating high on a cloud of dazed joy. “Are you attracted to me?”
“Listen, I already fucked up one moirallegiance by flippin' red, okay? I didn't mean to be wweir-“
“I’ve never been able to thtick to a quadrant,” you tell him, a burgeoning excitement starting to surge through you. “I’ve alwayth mixed them.”
“-an' I think I just wwant someone wwho's flushed or pale, an' I can't decide wwhich-“
“And I’ve never been able to theparate out the quadrantth perfectly-“ you stop talking at the same time as him, and you can’t stop fucking smiling like a hopeful little idiot.
“Huh.” He says eventually, with a vague disbelief. “So…”
“Are you- could you be red for me, ath well?”
Eridan pauses, chewing his lip. “I, um. Yeah, that ship's sailed, to borroww a phrase.”
Your bloodpump cracks like a glow stick and sunlight radiates out of you, overwhelming and delicious. You let your head flop back, relishing his weight against yours. “That’th literally all I care about, then.”
He wriggles up to see your face. “Wwait, so that’s- it’s fine noww? Wwe’re fine?”
“I’m not breaking up with you,” you explain. “It theemth like you’re not breaking up with me. My bathic hierarchy of needth ith met.”
“You don’t wwanna…” he squirms again, trying to fit words together, adorably hesitant. “Um. Get, uh, intimate?”
Fuck yes you do, but that’s a want, not a need. You need to take it slow, need to make sure you don’t scare him off. If you fuck up now, you’ll never forgive yourself. “Up to you,” you suggest.
You spend something like two hours on the floor, kissing soft and deep and perfect, and you love every fucking second.
twinArmageddons [TA] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]
TA: gue22 who ha2 a MATE2PRAIIL, motherfucker??
CG: WHAT?
CG: WHAT THE FUCK?
“ED, matethprail or moirthprit?” You call out, and your red-pale-something partner arches his brow.
“Uh, the first one? Barely?” He moves closer to look over your shoulder, eyebrows rising higher as he reads the solid chunks of grey text.
CG: JEGUS FUCK, YOU FINALLY GOT AMPORA TO PITY YOUR LAME ASS?
“Howw did he knoww you wwere talkin' about me?”
CUT TO: you, a sweep ago, absolutely wrecked on KK’s cheap vodka and mumbling pathetically into a cushion about Feelings while he tried to clean up around you.
You clear your throat. “Uh. Who knowth.”
CG: HOW IN THE SEVEN HELLS DID YOU PULL THAT?
CG: WITCHCRAFT?
CG: HORRORTERROR WORSHIP?
CG: IS IT THE END OF DAYS?
CG: WAIT, *MATESPRAIL*?
CG: AS IN, RED *AND* PALE AT THE SAME TIME?
CG: HOLY SHIT.
CG: I MEAN, UGH, DON'T TELL ME ABOUT YOUR KINKY QUADRANT SHENANIGANS.
CG: BUT ALSO, GOGDAMN.
CG: WELL DONE.
CG: YOU PERPETUALLY ASTONISH ME WITH YOUR ABILITY TO LOCK DOWN TROLLS WAY OUT OF YOUR LEAGUE, CAPTOR.
ED makes a strange sputtering noise. “Wwhat?”
“What? I told you he kinda knew.”
“He thinks I’m out of your league?”
You look at him, consider telling him how much drunken whining KK’s had to put up with from Sad Pining You, and shrug. “He’s not wrong.”
“Yes he is!”
“Nah.”
“Captor-“
“He’s had to listen to me drunkenly monologue a lot over the sweeps.” You say as casually as possible.
He closes his eyes for a second, exhaling deeply. “Sol, if this is a joke, I’m going to kill you.”
And then he kisses you, sweet and light, and tells you he’s going to go heat some nuritionsoup. You grin dopily after him for a second, then go back to gloating at KK.
The two of you create a weird, lovely kind of domesticity over the next perigee. It’s genuinely difficult at first - you’re twitchy and worried you’ll scare him off, he’s constantly second-guessing himself and emotionally unstable - but you make it work.
It helps that you’re always eager to pull him into you like a clingy slitherbeast, and he’s equally eager to be snuggled, so usually if shit gets tense or frustrating, you extend the olive branch in the form of an arm around his waist, and said shit sorts itself out.
You kiss, and sleep twined around eachother, and eat all your meals on the floor of your culinaryblock, ankles nudging playfully, like the most sickeningly red couple in existence. You're happy.
It takes you a while to get to the pailing, partially because you’re enjoying going slow, and partially because you’re both insecure little shits. You don’t want him to do anything he doesn’t want to, don’t want to rush him, and you especially don’t want him feeling like he has to prove himself, or anything. And ED? ED’s got all his issues and that weird uptight seadweller education about Intimate Matters, so he’s fucking terrified to initiate anything.
Eventually, he starts hinting, tongue-in-cheek, curling up real close to you on the loungeplank and ‘forgetting’ his towels when he’s in the ablutiontrap. You being you, you remain hornily oblivious until he says something.
Well. First he calls you into the ablutionblock, where he’s wet and naked and (not the time not the time).
“Did you forget your towel again?” You ask the back wall cautiously.
Eridan, skin glowing a deep lavender from the steam, is sunk halfway into a substantial pile of bubbles. You don’t know what they're made of, you didn’t think you owned anything capable of that level of luxurious froth, but they’re lapping at his mid-bicep like a low-cut robe, and he is a fucking sight to behold.
“Uh, Sol? Sol. Are you-“
“Argh. Thorry. I wath-“ you swallow. He’s naked under there. He’s only like a foot away and his skin looks so soft and- “Dithtracted.”
“Okay,” he coughs, voice high and nervous. “Did you… wwant to come in?”
“Your ablution?” You ask.
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” You laugh pitchily. “Ha, uh, I don’t- No, that’th okay, if you’re relaxing, I don’t want to interrupt-“
“You’re not. Um. It’s wwarm. It’s-” He looks up at you nervously through a beguiling fan of lashes. “Wwe could… talk.”
“Uh. ED, cardth on the table, if you’re jutht trying to chill there, I don’t want to make thhit weird and thexual but I’m going to get a boner and everything will be awkward.”
Blushing deeper, ED’s fins flicker erratically.
“Tho I might jutht-“ you gesture towards the door, trying not to focus on the delicate swell of his rumblespheres above the foamy surface. You can see the little buds of his nipples pebbling in the steam. Fucking shit.
“That’s-“ he sinks down lower. “I don’t mind.”
“But-“
“Sol, I’m tryin' to, to get naked wwith you, okay? Jegus, if you don’t wwant to, just say no-“
“Wait.” Your eyes goggle.
“Forget it.” He’s blushing furiously, hunching into himself, and you think he might be near tears again - one of the terrifying things about ED is how fragile he is under his rigid composure. He tears up when he’s overwhelmed, even if he’s enjoying himself.
(You wonder if he’d cry with satisfaction if he had a bulge up him, mouth open and sobbing for more)
“No no no wait,” you blurt, and his eyes flick back up. Instead of ruining the situation more with your clumsy words, you reach for your shirt with equally clumsy hands and ungracefully wrestle it off, self-conscious but not enough to stop. "Thhould I…”
His dusky tongue flickers across his lower lip. “You don’t wwant to get your trousers wwet,” he says slowly.
“Okay,” you manage, voice cracking. “And-
“The soap m-might damage fabrics in general.”
Okay, okay, breathe. That’s a full go-ahead on the nudity thing.
You strip out of your clothing as quickly as possible, trying not to squirm uneasily. You’re not bad-looking, but you’re also not, uh, him. On the other hand, he doesn't seem to mind; when you slip into the trap and face him, his eyes are dark and dilated, half anxious, half debauched. The moon-grey expanse of his skin is slippery-smooth in the opaque water, warm, and your legs tangle messily together in the relatively small space.
A long, breathless moment of silent staring passes.
“Hi,” you finally muster, smiling with awkward enthusiasm.
He bites his lip and grins back shyly. “…hi, there.”
It’s strangely freeing touching him like this, where your nakedness exists only in blurry glimpses and you can trace out the lines of his body with leisure, exploring the contours and planes without feeling painfully exposed. He’s soft and bony by turn, slim muscle and elegance, trembling under your tentative touches like a live wire.
You want to do everything it’s possible to do with him. You don’t know where to start.
When you finally get brave enough to stop stroking up and down his arms, sliding your prongs across to his torso, he flinches and catches your hands in his.
“Too much?”
“No, I just-“ ED shakes his head, water beading on his skin in crystalline trails. “There’s just- I’vve. You should knoww, I’vve got g-gills.”
“…I know.”
“Like. On my chest. Bigger ones.”
You stare blankly.
“…they’re just- I wwanted to wwarn you, I knoww it’s-“
“Dude. I know. I’ve theen you naked before.”
His face purples again. “I knoww, but-“
“I think you’re beautiful,” you tell him, and fuck, the words sound strange rolling off your cynical tongue, but it’s true. “I think your gillth are hot. Not in a creepy fetithh way - I know they’re jutht part of your body, like bellowthackth - fuck. I jutht mean, I know you have gillth. It’th definitely not a problem.”
“Oh.”
“Can I touch them? You don’t, uh, have to say yeth.”
He nods hesitantly. “Just be gentle.”
You’re fairly flushed yourself when you lean in to slide your prongs along his slinky torso, pausing when you feel the faint indents of gill slits. They mainly feel smooth and neatly tucked, rippling slightly in the water, but the way ED starts to quiver under your touch is more than interesting enough to keep your attention.
“Are they thenthitive? Like…” you rub gently over the nub of a nipple, and he lets out a low gurgling chirp, melting into the side of the trap.
“Kinda-sometimes-dangerous,” he manages, so you take the hint and keep moving, venturing lower to the sharkish sleekness of his abdomen, the vulnerable juts of hipbone and the tiny dents in his lower back, the long knobbly column of his spine, then you’re back at his shoulders and he’s gasping, knuckles white with how hard he’s clenching the side, letting out the most gorgeous noises.
“Ith it okay?”
“Mmhm,” Eridan nods, breathing fast, and fuck, you’re on fire, here. You’re burning up in a trap full of water as he tentatively spreads his legs for you, purring in sharp, shaky bursts as your hands land on his shapely thighs.
Oh gog, he’s so hot. This is so hot. You’re only clinging onto your dignity by a thread.
“Sorry,” he breathes out when you knead lightly at the soft flesh, a chittering trill travelling between you.
“What for?” You ask, voice impressively steady for someone two seconds from coming untouched.
“I don’t knoww.”
“I really like you,” you blurt, and then contemplate drowning yourself in the available water. “I mean. Uh.”
“I l-like you too.” He murmurs, and you can’t help it, you slip closer and press his mouth to yours, sloppy and uncoordinated and god, he’s so lovely.
You can tell he’s trying to be quiet, but when you appreciatively squeeze his ass, he moans straight into your ear and then hisses in shame.
“You thound tho good,” you slur, stream of consciousness, and he squeaks as you kiss his neck.
“Ah-“ when you nibble gently on one of his aural fins, the lightest pressure you can manage, he jerks so hard you worry you’ve accidentally shocked him with a spark.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah yeah yeah, definitely, just-“ Eridan grips onto the trap harder, swaying. “-sensitivve.”
You’re beginning to learn he’s not just sensitive all over, he’s a screamer. This is the best day of your life.
ED stiffens all over when you start tracing up his inner thighs, so you pull back to look at him. “We don’t have to do anything elthe, if-“
He sighs, slumping forward onto your shoulder. “No, I wwant to. I just…”
You wait, breathing in the smell of his hair and memorising the decadent slide of his skin against yours.
“…you wwon’t hurt me, right? Please?”
“I promithe,” you mumble, and even though it’s the least impressive oath you’ve ever heard, he genuinely seems comforted. He trusts you.
Your mouth is full of sugar and stars.
You wrap his fingers in yours before you reach down to cup his nook, and holy fuck, the folds are soft as velvet, hot and slick and quivering, and he lets out a garbled noise when his bulge pushes out to tug hopefully at your wrist.
“Grargh,” ED exhales, straight into your neck, and then his hips are rolling fluidly forwards into your fingers, unpracticed but desperate, and he’s so fucking tight. You want to lap him open until he cries with pleasure, want to see his eyes roll back when you fill him up with a bulge, but for now, you work in a finger. He grips your shoulder, babbles your name, trusting you to hold him up, take care of him.
You steady him with an arm around the waist as you slide another finger inside, feeling him pull at you as you ease them in and out, and he’s so fucking hungry for it. He’s perfect.
“You’re perfect,” you choke out, and feel him grip down on your fingers in response, gushing premat. “Fuck, you’re tho pretty. You’re doing tho good for me, ED.”
He just keeps clutching you, noises bubbling incoherently from his mouth as he thrashes around like an electrocuted eel. He’s pushing into you, letting out keening pleas, mouth open and slick against your bare shoulder, and when you rub into his shameglobes, a hoarse shriek rips from his throat, startling you into stillness.
“Not good?”
“Vvvvery vvery good please keep goin’ Sol please don’t stop don’t-“
Growling, you bury your face back in his neck and return to fingering him, luxuriating in the increasing wetness, the raw throb of his arousal, the way his shame globes twitch and convulse under your ceaseless efforts.
“Ah- ah- ah- agh-“ Eridan heaves breaths, claws ripping into your back, and fuck, you’re in love with this confusing, endearing mess of a troll, and you’re starting to think he might feel the same way. “Sol Sol Sol Sol-“
Mentally, you apologise to your neighbours, who can probably hear Eridan scream your name from the other side of the city. “That’th it, c’mon, babe, gorgeouth, let go for me-“
When he does spill, you only have a second to fully appreciate the feeling of his walls vicing down on your fingers, the sudden gush of warm genmat he releases, before he lets out a broken trill and pitches forwards so hard he almost cracks his head on the tile.
“Woah,” you catch him and pull him up into you. “Are you okay?”
“I b-believve in magic again,” ED says fervently - which is fucking adorable - and then his hand is on your bulge and his tongue is stroking a long line along your clavicle and he’s grinding just right, oh fuck, he’s a quick learner. “Wwant you in me, Sol.”
“Aren’t you kinda thenthitive, after-“
“Need somethin’ up there. Please.” He purrs so sweetly, looking up at you. “I wwant to feel your bulge inside me.”
“…I’ll go thlow,” you breathe, and he nods, clasping you close as you carefully line your right bulge up with his nook.
The noise he makes when he takes you to the base is the kind trolls wrote poetry about. The noise he makes when you discover an hour later that tweaking the cute little fin right over his butt will make him come dry and sobbing is the kind you do write poetry about, in the form of a virtually uncrackable encryption code in the hopes he’ll one day let you record it. You also like the way he moans languidly when he’s got a seedflap full of slurry, and that one wail he lets out when you keep sucking on his bulge even after you’ve left his nook a swollen, puffy mess, when you fuck your tongue in and out of his gills and paint his chest yellow with your genmat.
You also, guiltily, like the noise he makes the next day when he tries to roll out of the recuperaccoon and his knees jellify. The huffing little groan he tries to muffle when you have to pause in bending him over the counter to answer the door is also pretty cute.
And oh shit, it’s your neighbour. One of them, at least. They open their mouth, close it, take you in, and sigh. “Ju-ust wa-ante-ed to-o kno-ow i-if e-eve-erythi-ing’s a-alri-ight? We-e he-ea-ard ye-elli-ing?”
You beam. You’re shirtless, covered in hickeys, and probably look like a madman, but you also can’t imagine giving a shit. “I got laid, everything ith incredible.”
“You knoww they think you killed someone, right?” ED says archly as you shut the door.
You spin back around and scoop him up, giddy and sentimental.
“…I like you.”
And ED, who's still hesitant and anxious but is currently flushed and laughing, kisses you sweetly on the cheek. “I knoww.”
twinArmageddons [TA] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]
TA: 2top lettiing dave 2how my mate2praiil human 2tar war2.
TA: ed keep2 han 2oloiing me.
TA: man iif you thought ii wa2 a nerd.
TA: he2 way two hot two be a nerd though, riight?
TA: ii mean, you havent 2een hiim naked, but youve got eye2.
TA: and ii have 2een hiim naked, by the way,
TA: becau2e he2 my quadrant.
TA: ehehehehe.
TA: oh 2hiit.
TA: got two go.
TA: he2 not weariing pant2 and ii am Horny About IIt.
CG: I WANT TO BE DISGUSTED, BUT FRANKLY YOU DESERVE EACHOTHER.
CG: THERE'S A REPULSIVE KIND OF SWEETNESS TO YOUR UNPLEASANT OVERSHARING.
CG: SPEAKING OF ALL THE UNNECESSARY DETAILS YOU'VE SHARED, I AM NEVER TOUCHING A SURFACE IN YOUR HIVE AGAIN.
CG: BUT I'M SINCERELY HAPPY FOR YOU, FUCKFACE, WELL DONE.
CG: …
CG: HURT HIM AND I WILL HURT YOU, THOUGH.
CG: THE REVERSE IS ALSO TRUE.
CG: I AM GIVING YOU BOTH THE BOTANY-SCOOP TALK.
TA: iill pa22 that on.
CG: YOU'D BETTER.
CG: GOOD LUCK, CAPTOR.
CG: AND AGAIN, PLEASE STERILISE YOUR HIVE.