parodeity | WEEK ONE: WEDNESDAY, THE POOL

[ dave just kind of follows along in the same direction, still kind of distant and strange but settling the further they get from the motel. ]

From when I scared you.

[ he hand't flinched back then to give warning. but then, he doesn't seem to be really reacting to the pain broken fingers are presumably causing him either, so. ]

[Ok now Dirk stops in his tracks and his eyes are wide behind his shades.] Holy shit. I am so sorry. Can I see it?

Uh, it's fine. [ he has never gotten an apology for that kind of thing before and seems taken aback, but will after a second just. hold out his arm? he guesses? like usual dave's in long sleeves.

rolling it up will pretty much show the bruise - a day or so old now - and probably a few of the "various scars" that are clearly sword-inflicted, but w/e. ]

[He frowns a little at the various scars but the bruise bothers him more.] I'm sorry, Dave. [The voice is monotonous, but compared to Bro's lack of emotion the contrition is practically on loudspeaker.] I should've been more careful.

[He starts walking again, but yeah he seems even more protective now the way he's moving near Dave.]

It's fine, I didn't mind. [ or really note it until he took off his shirt later that night, but. he trails along.

still freaked, but for once it doesn't seem to be directly caused by dirk, since it was, like, a state of being he was in from the start. he does still kinda seem like he'd willingly jump off a cliff about now but maybe a little less the further into town they get. ]

Still. It wasn't okay.

[Dirk isn't bothering him about the jumpiness yet; the decrease in the jittery willingness to jump off a cliff is a rewarding in itself.]

It wasn't like you did it because you were pissed off or...nothing.

[ nothing isn't a "nevermind". he means pissed off OR sociopathic. ]

Hurtin' someone because you're worried about them is, like, the prime in ironies that I fucking hate. [Since it's dumb. THEY GET TO THE BOOKSHELVES and Dirk checks around the backs. It looks like they should be able to shove one down; Dirk nods to himself.]

Okay, step back, and I'll climb up and knock it over. Do not catch it for verisimilitude. You are covered on that front, dude.

What, we don't wanna give me a few bookshelf bruises? Because verisimilitude is what sells a lie.

[ however he will roll his eyes and get out of the way. ]

[He starts scrambling up top!] You can throw books at your own torso if you want. I am not participating in that. [God it is super dusty up here. Yikes. He crouches to get his balance for the kick, and—

—with a huge shove, he manages to knock the bookshelf down. Fun fact: there is REALLY a lot of dust! It kicks up in a vicious cloud, getting in both Dirk's eyes and his lungs. He manages to land okay on top of the shelf, maybe bruising his palm a bit at worst, but he's left hacking something vicious with his eyes squeezed shut as the cloud dissipates.

Dave, according to the mods, will be mostly out of the dust range! So only Dirk will have a cough for the next day.

Verisimilitude!]

[ why are they both this way. dave actually comes closer, though, after the bookshelf comes down. ]

You okay? Shit, that could be...creepy eldritch horror dust, which is somehow worse than the normal kind, because fuck you is why I guess.

[ but yeah okay that. counts. as verisimilitude dave supposes. ]

I'm—[Yeah he was going to say 'fine' but HORRORTERROR DUST IN THE LUNGS provokes a coughing fit. Dirk waves his hand to try to say "I'm fine" as he continues to cough hard from his landing spot on top of the shelf. His eyes are watering and he yanks off his shades so he can rub at his eyes. While also coughing.]

—fine!

[This is convincing with how hard it was for him to finish that sentence and how he practically gagged out the word before more coughing continued]

Did you land on your hand weird?

[ he's like. leaning over dirk but not reaching out MOSTLY BECAUSE HIS OWN HANDS ARE STILL A LITTLE FUCKED FINGER WISE but. ]

I don't have water, fuck.

[Dirk slips himself off of the collapsed bookcase, shaking his head against the dust. His eyes are still watering and his shades gripped tight in the hand that has his glasses but now he's trying to blink the dust out. He shows Dave his hand: it looks fine, although yeah he'll have a bruise on that palm later but for now it isn't visible.]

Clinic—[He means to fix Dave's hand, but of course his words are truncated by coughs]—then motel—

[He knows he can hold his breath for a long time. Should he try that or will it just make this worse? He's pretty sure he's coughing for a reason, that's how it is whenever he gets water in his lungs.]

No way. [ dave actually takes dirk's hand to check, careful of his...own...fingers... ] We need to - wait, there's a bathroom here.

[ he's tugging dirk in that direction. it's the first time he's ever turned his back on dirk without dirk somewhere else, at least. apparently he is Not going to agree to go to the clinic until dirk drinks some water or something? god what do you even do for dust? at least they can probably flush out his eyes - ]

's fine, 'm fine—

[But he's too worried about hurting Dave's hand more to fight being pulled along, and he's coughing too much to successfully pull this off. DAVE WINS THIS ONE!]

[ yeah worry about dave's hands because he isn't, aside from avoiding using those fingers? he will just drag dirk into the bathroom, and go to the sink to start up the water. ]

Okay, let's...this is a really fuckin' awkward angle for this, just lean over the sink, will you?

[ so they can rinse his eyes out at least for that first? although dirk should also. drink water probably god dust is not in the repertoire of injuries dave has dealt with over his life. ]

[Dirk has not dealt with it either but he kinda shoves the shades Dave-wards for Dave to take while he leans over the tap and ducks his head under to try to get at the water, splashing if necessary. Coughing doesn't help his efforts but he is determined not to let Dave's hands participate in them.]

[ what the fuck does he do with these he has no sylladex - okay find he just hooks the over the collar of his shirt and...tries...to get dirk's stupid anime hair out of the way of his eyes, he guesses? apparently dave's hands are participating whether dirk likes it or not. ]

Dave—[COUGH]—your hands, dude—!

[Do not??? hurt them??? Dirk's still just letting the water run into his eyes oh god it is THE WORST but he thinks it's helping and after the recommended—he's not sure how long is recommended. ISN'T IT FIFTEEN SECONDS? He didn't have to cover this shit they did NOT have this in the ocean, but anyway he gives the water some time and then yanks back and squeezes his eyes shut as it runs from his face. Also: coughing. But he rubs at his eyes to help clear it up and at least when he finally blinks it away he seems to be doing better. Ridiculously red-eyed from all that dust, but much better.]

[ fuck you dave will do what he wants to his hands and he just kind of reaches up with his sleeve to like. dry off dirk's face as gently as he can kind of. great. ]

Okay, now drink some.

[ we are not leaving this stupid bathroom until dirk is coughing less or until dave can be convinced to leave this stupid bathroom, apparently ]

[There's a strangled noise that probably isn't the dust as he legit just shoves his mouth under the tap water to gulp down water.

Elegant!]

[ well that

works

dave supposes wtf ]

[the ocean boy belongs in the sea

After, like, thirty seconds of gulping water, Dirk pushes himself back up, gasping, and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks... better than he did before? He's still coughing but it's a little less.]

Clinic now.

[It's with a hard gasp but again: it's an improvement. He wipes at his face again and then—]

Thanks.

[Because Dave looked after him. Because for sixteen years no one was there to wipe away at water on his face.]

Wait. [ dirk doesn't seem to care the way dave does but he unhooks the glasses from his collar - still careful of the left pointer finger and right pinky - and slides them onto dirk's face. ]

...For the record, normally I'd tell you I could handle my fingers myself, and I could do. I've set 'em before. [ but this isn't "normally", apparently, or at least he doesn't intend to not let dirk set the broken bones.

why he felt this needed to be said is up in the air. but he says it anyway, looking up the two inches dirk has on him to do so. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject