darkluna: (mello-hell)
[personal profile] darkluna
Part 2 of whatever this Dave/Sollux thing is! Humanstuck highschool AU, from a long-ago kinkmeme prompt. (Part 1 here.)

"So, Egbert," you say in Chemistry. "You know anything about this Captor kid?" So casual, like you seriously couldn't care less.

Which you couldn't. You're just doing some background research.

"Oh, Sollux?" Egbert says, smiling (he always smiles). "I like him." (Egbert likes everyone.)

Egbert's so goddamn normal and well-adjusted, the irony in just being friends with him is off the charts. His dad wears a fedora and leaves him encouraging notes that are so full of avuncular paternalism that you've considered starting a tumblr devoted to them.

"Try to put how much of a friendship slut you are aside for a minute, and tell me what he's like."

You try to stop thinking about how Captor's--Sollux's--wrist felt so fragile, caged in your fingers. Was his skin warm, could you feel his pulse? You ought to have noticed these things, but you didn't.

"He's nice," Egbert says.

"You think everyone's nice. The word's lost all meaning thanks to you."

You're used to each other, the two of you, but he still gives you a petulant little look, sharp flash of blue over his glasses, and maybe you should try that maneuver. It's super-effective.

"Most people are, Dave. Just because you're so busy trying to seem cynical and above it all, that doesn't mean everyone sucks."

"Vantas isn't as awful as he could be. Good job picking your boyfriend, at least."

"He-- he's not. We're not-- Karkat and I are just good friends!"

"Uh-huh. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Egbert."

"I'm not gay!"

You look at your best friend long enough to be sure he can tell you're radiating skepticism from behind the shades.

"Not that there's anything wrong with it. I'm just not," he gabbles. You could set your watch by him sometimes.

"Captor?" you say, shoving him into getting back with the program.

Egbert thinks for a moment, still pouty, fussing with the slides to make sure they're perfectly aligned. Your division of labor is optimal. He does the experiments, you write them up. Often with illustrations. Ms. Lalonde has written DAVE, NO more than once in reference to your works of art, but you know she secretly loves them.

"He hangs out in the computer lab most of the time. All the time, really. Once... I dunno, it's kind of personal."

You give the over-the-glasses look a try.

"Fine. Once, we were both there when they were closing up and kicked us out, and I waited around with him for a while in the parking lot. He's pretty shy. Nobody came to pick him up. I felt bad, and I wanted to invite him to my house, but... it seemed like he would've been offended."

"Good call. He's bristly as fuck. He's like a porcupine in 3D glasses." It makes you feel weird, to think about Captor waiting all alone. Trying to pretend it's all right, you bet, as the sky darkens and the lights start to come on, and the parking lot empties out, and it's the looks from the people leaving, all smug in their warm cars, feeling sorry for you, that really piss you off...

This is stupid. He probably prefers being alone.

"Why do you want to know?" Egbert says, slipping the first slide onto the microscope.

"He's my new project."

Egbert giggles--yeah, he actually giggles. "You might have some competition. I think Karkat beat you to it."

"What the hell does Mr. Shoutypants want with a geeky new kid?"

"You know he hates it when you call him that."

"Thus my love of doing it every chance I get. Anyway, he hates everything, but I don't see you getting your delicate boypanties in a wad about that. Oh no. It's just hate on Strider for having the only sane response to an insane world."

Egbert looks up from checking the microscope, and he's smiling tolerantly. You hate it when he does that. He looks like he might call you cute and ruffle your hair any second. "He says, and I quote--" He scrunches his eyebrows together. "THAT KID IS SO PATHETIC HE'S LIKE A WALKING 'KICK ME' SIGN. HE DOESN'T COMPLETELY SUCK, SO OBVIOUSLY IT FALLS TO ME, LIKE IT ALWAYS FUCKING DOES, TO BE A HOPE FOR THE HOPELESS, FRIEND TO THE FRIENDLESS, AND SAVE HIM FROM THE NINTH CIRCLE OF HELL, ALSO KNOWN AS ANDREWS HIGH."

"Not bad. I'm sure you have a natural talent for impressions, and haven't spent obsessive hours studying Vantas's... special way of expressing himself."

Egbert grins at the compliment and ignores the rest, like you knew he would. Kid has developed truly remarkable selective listening skills. You take credit for that.

After Chem, you intend to track Captor down, but when you get to your locker, you see he beat you to it, slouching there like he's about to be picked last for dodgeball. You realize that, alarmingly, your inability to stop staring at his hair is mutating into an urge to touch it.

"Stalking me already? I'm flattered, but please. Under my gruff exterior, I'm actually a delicate flower."


Damn it, the lisp hasn't gotten any less sexy in the last few hours, and the way Captor says that, as if daring you to notice it and make something of it, is weirdly sexy, too.

"We actually doing thith?" he says.

"You bet your skinny alien ass we are."

"Are you trying to make 'alien' a thing?" He gives you a flat look, which is fairly impressive, given how normal for him is already calibrated to deadpan. "Don't."

"Who's the delicate flower now?"

He does that thing where he rolls his eyes with his whole body, and heads for the computer lab, not looking back to see if you're following.

He claims a machine at the end of a row, against the wall, of course, and you scoot the chair next to his a shade too close and try to read over his shoulder, but the kid types at the speed of light, and he's logged in before you even see his username.

"Here." He pulls a notebook out of his backpack, and shoves it at you like he's ashamed of it, except you're starting to be able to translate Captor to Human, and he's not embarrassed enough to mangle Human in an attempt to avoid the letter S. "I had thome ideath in clath."

'Some' is a good contender for understatement of the year. The whole damn page is full of Captor's chickenscratch, red and blue crammed into the margins, stats and diagrams and shit. "Forget the alien thing," you say. "You have a computer for a brain."

Captor makes a sound it takes you a second to realize is a laugh, short and sharp and unexpected, and by the time you look at him, he's ducked his head, hiding under that awful, tempting hair. You're pretty sure what he's hiding is a smile. A real one, surprised out of him.

You really, really want to make him do it again.


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March 2014

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