Whatever you do, whatever you say. [closed]

[shenunigans]

Who| Dave, Feferi and Anna.
What| Both of Dave's best girls lost their guys, he decides to try consoling them simultaneously with pillows, blankets and booze.
Where| The Roof
When| After the Mini Arena, around 5pm or later. Before curfew.
Warnings/Notes| Underage drinking, talk of death

There's nothing about that Arena that wasn't a monumental fuck up. Like every Arena, Dave died horribly. Like every Arena, he woke up to find himself a few friends lighter. He'd balled up the hurt he'd felt over losing Sollux, not wanting to let on to the fact that he's so fucking mad over it. Karkat came back, he left, everything literally flipped over from the last Arena. Oddly, Dave can acquaint the feeling to something like vertigo and seasickness. He can feel it in his gut, something clenching and simmering that he doesn't have the ability to express right now. He's bone tired. Sleeping doesn't fix shit. He feels aimless and angry and sad and he didn't sign up for this. Ever.

If there's one thing that distracts him from feeling that way, it's comforting his friends. He has a lot of comforting to do, he's not the only one hurting here. He never is. He's not the type to go in for cuddles and long talks, but he's always up to distract people too. It's why he's gathered Anna and Feferi to the roof today. It's nippy out, not late enough to be totally dark and risk them missing curfew. Hopefully, it's late enough that they won't be interrupted, even if he's picked a secluded area to meet in. He'd gathered blankets and pillows for maximum vegging out, but none of this makes him feel as guilty as the bottles in the pillow cases do.

Just two. Just ones he'd pilfered when nobody was looking. Any other day, he'd nope out of the idea of turning to something like booze to solve a problem. It just takes realising that it isn't a solution to make him come around a little more. If something can take the edge off, even for a little while, why not at least try it on for size? It has nothing to do with Rose or her residual problems, he reserves the right to try something new every now and then.

And try he does. When the girls come up, he situates himself between them and they get to talking. It starts out slow, a half-hearted comment or quip here and there in between a sip. But sips became swigs and lightweights don't stand much of a chance against the harder stuff Dave brought with him. Quite rightly, it does feel good, but he doesn't know if it's because he told himself it feels good.

"Mamaaaaa, oooooohhhh..." He cuts into whatever the conversation was with the lyric, most of which had been sung in his head. His voice isn't bad, but it's flat and as disjointed as the line he just threw in the fray there. "Didn't mean to make you cryyyy..." He continues, stopping himself to think about it and snorting. "Fuck, I just sang that out loud." He scrubs a hand over his face, nudging both princesses which his shoulders as he sways himself between them. "C'mon, everyone knows that one. You're breaking my hearts- heart. My heart. The one. Broke."

Comments

[rediscover]

At first, Anna had been reluctant about this whole rooftop teenage rebellion thing. After all, she's never broken curfew before--too afraid of the consequences, really--and she's not really keen on starting now. But after the Arena, after everything, after losing Kristoff and not even realizing it for a good week, well, she's felt pretty crummy. Selfish and stupid and sad, and crummy. So maybe it's a bad idea, but she does it anyway. She's tired of being afraid, and tired of hiding from the world because she's sad about her boyfriend. So she follows Dave up to the roof, and drinks terrible-tasting alcohol until her whole body's warm and dizzy and she can barely hold her head up straight.

Dave's singing makes her wrinkle her nose, and she shakes her head. "Nnnnonono, that's--that's all wrong, Dave. Davey." A giggle, punctuated by a tiny snort. "Daveyyyy. Ev-everone needs to call you that." Anna sways where she sits, butting her head into his shoulder.

"'M I right or 'm I right?"

[shenunigans]

It's hard for Dave to push being social on anyone, given his usual demeanor. Sure, he's clingy as hell, but he sort of just appears and doesn't leave. This is a case for something a little more intensive, he thinks. Even if he is the opposite of competent with emotions and alcohol. It's hard to imagine it's a bad idea now that they're both comfortably drunk.

"Davey." He repeats, almost somberly. "Davey.. No. That's a pirate name. Pirates are lame." He casts a crinkled look of indignance down at her on his shoulders, but it fades quite fast. "Everyone should call you Banana. Cuz it's like your name but. Fruitier. Suits you. Banana. Banarendelle."

[rediscover]

Anna turns and fixes her gaze on Dave. Very slowly, she lifts her head, bringing her hands up to squish his cheeks inward on each side.

"Dave. Don't you ever call me a fruit again." And then she starts giggling uncontrollably. Her moods are mercurial right now, that's for sure, but the idea of anyone calling her 'Banana' is completely ridiculous. And while she giggles, she doesn't move her hands away, so she's just laughing helplessly with Dave's face squished between her palms.

[shenunigans]

If Dave's reflexes were as on-point as they usually are, he probably would have been able to pull away from the hands rather than being swept up in the motion. It's enough to redden his face a little, even if he'd vehemently deny it. Shut up.

"Not even melon?" He asks finally, not sure what else to say while she's holding him and laughing at him. He's so confused, what's happening? Why is he laughing? He can't stop laughing.

[rediscover]

"Oh my god. Especially not melon," Anna wheezes helplessly, eyes squeezed shut and her cheeks red, breathless from laughter. "Because...b'cause melons are the worst fruit ever, wayyyyy worse than banananans." Wow, words are really hard. That last big slug of alcohol she had is definitely catching up to her.

Finally, she lets her hands drop. "Dave," she sighs, her head conking back onto his shoulder. "Yer the best brother ever." It's a thought she's had before but never properly voiced, but really if anyone's like a brother to her it's Dave. So there it is. All out in the open. He's her brother now, too bad.

[shenunigans]

"If it's a crap fruit- isn't it better- 'cuz then it's like you're barely a fruit." Ah, drunk logic. "Ain't nobody going to put your sorry ass in a salad, not unless they want it to taste like tropical taint." He crinkles his nose, because now he can practically taste it. When she lets his face go, he raises the bottle to his lips and takes another swig. Ah, putrid alcohol, much better than melon.

"Gross." He retorts quickly, but he thinks on it for a moment and continues. "And you're the worst brother ever, damn. Touching my face and shit. Not even genetically related AAAAND you're kind of the wrong gender." Because she's your sister, dumbass.

[rediscover]

"Ohmygosh, nooo, that's so gross," Anna slurs, flopping back onto the rooftop with her braids askew and the blanket burrito'd around her. His insistence that she's the worst brother ever only sends her into another giggling fit, laying there like a hot dog on the floor of the roof.

"Dave. Dave. I'm a girl, I can't be your brother. 'M your sister, stupid."

[shenunigans]

Dave leans over to cast a judgmental look down at her dramatics, quirking a brow over his shades at her and shaking his head.

"No, you aren't. We aren't even gententacilly related, dumbass. I've never even met your parents." He says knowingly, then seems to falter for a moment. "'n I've never met mine, either." Now he needs a moment to consider this. "Maybe we are genentically related.."

[rediscover]

Anna snorts, opening her eyes to see Dave looking down at her. In true Anna fashion, she retaliates by crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue.

"Seeeeee, you just. Just never know." Extricating an arm from her blanket burrito, she uses her now-free hand to muss Dave's hair, before snatching his shades off his face and situating them on her own face.

"Wow, look at me, I'm so cool. Sooooo cool. The coolest."

For Davesprite

[shenunigans]

A few hours later, just forty five minutes short of curfew, Dave has gotten the girls back to their Districts. Somehow the three of them, drunk as hell and stumbling, had managed to get into their Districts without being caught immediately. Or at least, Anna and Feferi made it. All Dave had to do was ride the elevator up to Nine from the Fourth floor, slink in without making eye contact and. Shit. This elevator is fast. Dave wobbles on his feet, suddenly all of the fun is rapidly escaping the situation now that his girls are gone.

He sinks to the floor with a groan, wanting to get as close to that nice steady looking surface as possible. Now he's just got to wait this dizzy spell out until this stupid death box reaches his floor, and what better way to pass the time than talking to yourself?

"This is-" He pauses to hiccup, but it veers a little close to being more than a hiccup. "--Severely overrated. Seriously. I spent all that fucking time avoiding this shit, you'd think it'd be pretty baller but it's like. Nah. Dave. No matter what you do, you are destined to feel like your entrails are sloooowly evacuating your nose to smooth, smooth jazz." He lets his head fall back, grunting when it taps hard against the back of the elevator. He sits in silence for what feels like an eternity before he starts to hum along with the music, barely noticing when the elevator comes to a stop and opens its doors.

[anachronologistics]

You know what is the best thing after spending two hours in the training center getting reacquainted with the weight of legs you didn't have for the last three years? Soaking under a nice hot shower spray -- who fucking cares if it's going to waterlog your wings -- and then curling up with a bottle of apple juice over some comics. This is precisely what Davesprite has in mind as the elevator chugs to a stop at the floor (whoops, sorry bro, looks like you hit the down button instead of up) and the doors slide open.

Davesprite, when he was still Dave, and even after he wasn't Dave anymore, has seen enough shitty drunk-teen movies to know that one should always be prepared to expect anything upon the opening of elevator doors. Still, no amount of shit cinema is enough to prepare oneself for finding their past alternate self sprawled out on the floor, drunk as a skunk, humming to awful elevator muzak.

What.

Just. What.

He stands there so long with the doors open that they almost start to close again when his hand comes out to stop them. When they've opened back the rest of the way, he crosses his arms over his chest. Dave is probably too drunk to notice it, but his wings give a frustrated little fluff against his back.

"... are you shitting me right now."

It isn't a question.

Really, dude.

He takes a glance over his shoulde to make sure no one's looking -- no one should be subjected to this bullshit -- and steps inside. The doors close, but the elevator doesn't move because he hasn't picked a floor yet. Davesprite crouches down next to Dave with arms propped on his knees, and sighs.

"Do I even need to get into how embarrassing this is?"

[shenunigans]

There's something blissful in the moment of still that a stopped elevator brings, but it's followed by dread when Dave glances up to the floor number realises that it means someone is getting in rather than it being his time to shine. He brings his hands up to his face, as if that will obscure him on the off chance that it's Captain America or someone just as good natured and annoying.

Well. It's definitely someone annoying, but as far as being found out, it could be worse. If your future-self with wings can't keep a secret, then who can? He knows Davesprite has his back, even if it bothers him on a deep level to need his back protected.

"Yes." He answers the not-question, just barely pulling his arms away so he can look at Davesprite when he starts to move toward him. "Woooah. Seeing double." He snorts against his arm, burying back into it with a distressed groan. "Why'dwe have to move? Jus' leave it. It can be still." He means the elevator.

[anachronologistics]

Holy shit.

Dave's not just drunk. He's fucking hammered.

"Only double? Well slap me retarded. You're so trashed I figured you would at least be seeing nothin' short of quintuple by now. Guess you should take that as a personal feat." He glances back at the elevator doors, tempted to throwing on the emergency breaks so no unsuspecting asshole comes in to actually try and use the thing.

Except when he looks back, he just cocks his head to the side, almost at a bit of an avian-esque sort of angle. "Testing, testing, one two -- how many fingers am I holding up?"

(Trick question. He isn't holding up any fingers, and he doesn't plan on holding any up, either.)

He props his chin on his hand.

"As your previous celestial fucking spirit guide, it's my celestial fucking duty to cart your drunk ass home or something. What floor are you on, again? Can you even remember?"

[shenunigans]

As if he's paying intense attention to what Davesprite is saying, Dave tries to nod along. Only he's making himself dizzy doing it, so he stops and tries to rest his chin on his hand and his elbow on the air for a moment before finding the floor, the essence of feigned interest.

"What is this? Math class. Nobody said you could school me, teach. Not a single fucking person." He rolls his eyes behind his shade, failing to acknowledge the fact that there isn't a single finger raised here.

At Davesprite's little proposal, Dave's eyebrows raise almost exaggeratedly and then knit together. "Guess I missed that nugget of wisdom in the terms and conditions." But it wouldn't surprise him. "Look, this has been a slice, but I can haul my own ass home no problem." He wrenches himself up, stumbling back a bit until he's pressed right up against the wall of the elevator and trying to push himself toward the buttons to stare critically before tentatively pressing the 6 button. "There. Cool." Now he's just going to lean his forehead against the wall in front of the buttons and groan.

[anachronologistics]

Davesprite brings himself to his full height as Dave stands. To his credit, he doesn't even flinch when Dave stumbles and looks like he might end up flopping backward like a fish out of water. But Davesprite does raise an eyebrow when Dave pushes the 6 button and leans against the wall.

"Wow, okay, this has got to be the saddest fucking thing I've ever seen."

The elevator lurches upward, and regardless of whether Dave holds his balance in the process, Davesprite moves forward to catch himself under one of his arms. The doors are closed and no one is looking. Between the two of them, now is not the time to be horribly concerned with just how uncool this looks. It would be more uncool if one of them spilled into the floor.

"C'mon, dude..."

He's just going to lightly pry Dave off the wall and guide him back into sitting on the elevator floor again.

As an afterthought he sits as well, with legs stretched out in front of him and hands resting on his knees. It's a little uncomfortable to be leaned against his wings like he is, but he figures it's fair, in the event someone else decided to join in on their ride up six flights of stairs.

"Please don't hurl on me. I swear to god, if you puke on me, I will molt and shove all of my feathers in your turntables and I won't be sorry for it."

[shenunigans]

Unfortunately for both of them, 6 is the wrong number. 9 is the one he's looking for, he just thinks he's pressed the right button. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your seats in the upright position. We are en route to District Nine. The Hella District."

He forces a smooth, professional voice before he ruins it by hiccuping and ruins it again by protesting when Davesprite tries to herd him along. Yet, he complies and sinks back down to sprawl, a faint groan escaping his lips when things start to move again.

"Turbulence.." He mutters faintly, pursing his lips as if resisting the urge that Davesprite is demanding he ignore. "I don't need to barf. Don't be ridonk. I'm peachy. Eugh." Why did he mention food.

[anachronologistics]

Nine?

He glances at the elevator buttons.

Oh god damn it. Somebody's going to have to tell him.

"The Hella District."

Just not yet.

Davesprite keeps a close eye on Dave's face. His feather's twitch when the other dude's lips purse in a really threatening sort of way, but when he doesn't toss his cookies they relax again.

"Man, how much did you even drink?" On second thought, "What did you even drink?"

[fintastic]

At first, Feferi's disappointed. She tried so hard in that Arena, just to wind up losing. Anyone would be disappointed by that, it's only natural but-- there's next time, right? Except it's so much worse than that. One by one, the other kids exit or make their way out however they do (she tries not to think about it) but there's a face conspicuously missing. One frantic search later, and Feferi's left with only one conclusion.

Sollux went in, but he never come out.

By the time she meets Dave on the roof, she's been crying all afternoon. Normally chipper and hopeful, the loss is devastating. Not only was he her matesprit, but she needed him here for support, and to do the things she couldn't do. He was smart, he was technological, she was just an aquatic princess whose biggest talents were looking cute and trolling people, and only one of those was going to do her any good in the Capitol.

The drink Dave offers her isn't something she's familiar with, and it tastes nasty, but she doesn't care. It doesn't take much for her to get lightheaded, continually getting more and more difficult for her to keep from just keeling over into his lap. She feels.. dizzy. And out of it. And not exactly happy but maybe a little more numb.

"Do not even talk to me, about broken hearts." She makes an attempt to put her hand to his face and push him over, but misses by about a half-mile. "My heart... does not even exit anemonemore, they shoal it!"

[shenunigans]

Deep down, Dave knows that this is the opposite of a good idea. It's gonna help bupkis, but he doesn't know what else to do. He feels shit about Sollux dying too, like he should have found him and helped him out instead of leaving him to the dogs. Shit happens, he knows. Furbies attack and you can't always be there for everyone, but at least he can be here for Feferi. Right? There's not a hell of a lot he can say or do that will heal that wound, but he can offer temporary distractions. So many temporary distractions.

Dave watches the hand sweep in front of him with a furrowed brow, briefly looking concerned before he realises she might be pointedly dramatic, but there's depth to that joke. So, he wiggles the bottle toward her like the concerned friend he is.

"Alright, alright. We can talk about something else." And then there's a long point. "Like uh. You ever think about how crap this shit tastes but how good it feels?" He tilts his head backward. "Only I've had a whole heap and I don't even think I'm drunk." Yes, Dave, you are.

exist* WHY DO I ONLY NOTICE TYPOS A WEEK LATER

[fintastic]

Feferi is about as lightweight as they come, but she still has enough sense-- she thinks-- to shake her head. "Nothing feels good anymore and I have never even had this anyway."

She stops and stares off into the distance; she's trying to think. Her mind is so muddled that nothing really coherent comes up, so she just shrugs, wobbling a little as she does so. "And you do not seem all that drunk to me. If you are drunk, then what am I?"

Completely and utterly sloshed. She's going to regret it in the morning, but for now, she just leans against his shoulder, making a long, drawn out whining noise. She just feels so... so something, and now that she can't even make proper words, it's making it hard to get those feelings out.

"Is it going to be like this forever?"

[shenunigans]

"Really? You don't feel great? I feel great. I think I could start a band. I think this is where all bands originate. Drinking. Seriously though, me on vocals and guitar, you on the bass because that's a fish pun. You can also be drums. Play the drums with your bass."

He nods vigorously until it makes him dizzy and he stops, realising he's babbling embarrassingly much and stops so she can get her say in. He completely allows her to lean on him, almost leaning back on her but holding himself back just a little.

"Nobody is not drunk forever. That's physically impossible."

[fintastic]

That at least seems to pacify her a little. She gives a big, exaggerated sniffle, then sits there wobbling for a few seconds, staring off into nothingness, before she looks at him again.

"Okay, but I want to sing too. You can't sing. You can play the tuna." She stops, then seems to realize how absurd that sounds (thankfully) before correcting herself. "I mean you can play the piano. You can... you can tune a piano, but you can't tuna fish, did you know that?"

She says it so seriously, and it's punctuated by a hiccup as she says it, but she just really needs him to know it for some reason.

[shenunigans]

"I can sing just fucking fine, thanks." Why he's suddenly defensive about this is beyond him, but it's very important that she understand how gravely she's offended him.

"I dunno how to play the tuna. Or the piano. Unless I'm rhythmically slapping a tuna against a piano while we both sing and you play bass because you aren't bailing on that." The pun completely escapes him, he just nods at her like she's said something both factually true and interesting.

The hiccup, however, doesn't escape him. A lopsided smile makes it's way to his lips and he stares at her for a long moment before piping up. "That should be illegal."

[fintastic]

"No, you should be illegal." She pokes him in the shoulder, harder than she has any right to with how wobbly she is otherwise. His missing of the pun misses her entirely as well, and she just gets distracted again. Carrying on one particular line of discussion isn't something she's good at on a regular day, but right now especially, she's ready to tangent at the drop of a hat. "I mean just look at you! I am going to have to arrest you for being--" She hiccups again, and pauses to recover. "--being a good frond!"

Hiccup. There's a brief moment wherein Feferi tries to standup, but quickly sits right back down again. "I want to look at the stars."

[shenunigans]

"I am illegal." He says that with certainty and conviction, staring hard past his shades at her as she searches for his grave crime. He is one part curious about what she'll come up with and another part confused because he's forgotten what they're talking about.

"Alright." He agrees, wondering why being a good friend means she should get up and try to walk away. Fortunately, she's crap at that. Only that's not such a good thing, since he needs to fumble to make sure she doesn't hurt herself when she slides back down.

"Then get up." He suggests with a snort, knowing she sucks at doing that. It's getting harder not to laugh, because standing is easy. Look? He can do it. "C'mon." He urges, wobbling to his feet and promptly plastering himself back against the wall. "S'high up here."