thecapitol | Whatever you do, whatever you say. [closed]

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Whatever you do, whatever you say. [closed]

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."

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Anna doesn't seem to mind Dave's name-calling; she adjusts his shades on her face, and doesn't even reply to his protests. Suddenly, something's shifted--something chemical that she doesn't even understand, but her mood is quickly deflating. She sits up, blankets wrapped around her waist, and hunches in on herself, arms splayed in her lap.

"Is it bad," she begins, sounding majorly unsure, "that I'm not really...sad?"

When Anna's mood shifts, it takes Dave a moment to really connect with it. He's waiting for the punchline for the longest times before he fidgets and realises it isn't coming.

Only now he has no idea what she's talking about. Sad? What?

"Yeah." He answers quickly, feeling like he's wasted enough time before he hesitates and changes his answer. "Nah?" He tries to get a feel for which word is better before he gives up. "'bout what?"

Anna just sighs, burying her face in her arms. This is stupid, this whole thing was stupid, and now she's drunk and woozy and having this dumb conversation.

"About Kristoff," she mutters into her arms. "That he's gone." She lifts her head, looking over at Dave and feeling positively baffled. "Him being here...it wasn't right, somehow. Things with him and me were so different. Almost like he was some weird clone of Kristoff." It had all seemed so...off.

"Ohhh... Uh.." Awkward. Awkward is the word he's looking for. He had one conversation with the guy, he doesn't have much basis for judgment here. His mood is starting to drop rapidly now that they're actually talking about the things they came here to avoid.

"That happens. Sometimes. It happened to Karkat, actually. Back home he was my bestie but here I couldn't get him to talk to me 'bout anything but some girl we both liked." He gives his shoulders a heavy shrug. "It's how it is. Sometimes it's a relief to have them gone. Not here. Being weird and miserable."

Anna sighs, dropping her head again. "Maybe you're right, mmmaybe this is all just too weird for anything to work the same way it did back home." She's too drunk to handle all these emotions. "You're smart, Dave."

She turns and buries her face into the side of his shoulder.

"Dave....Dave."

A beat.

"Sorry."

"Sure. Not everyone adapts, some people flounder and freak out. S'how it is." When she buries against him, he reaches out to pet her head with a strange amount of affection. Like she's a cat and not a person and he doesn't have to worry about being judged for coddling her.

"'Course I'm smart. Which is why I'mmmm gonna take you to bed." He points at her and then behind him before he realises the implications of that and his cheeks start to heat. "I mean, before curfew. Fuck. Shut up, c'mon." He staggers up to his feet, bracing himself on the wall and wiggling his hand at her invitingly. "I'll be your escargot." He means escort.

The way Dave pets at her head is strangely calming, and her shoulders rise and fall in a big sigh. Now that she thinks of it, bed does sound very inviting; the idea of laying down and letting the dizziness wash over her is pretty appealing to the poor drunken princess. But Dave's slip-up doesn't go unnoticed, and despite herself, Anna giggles.

"Oh, wow," she laughs, lifting her face finally in time to see him stagger upwards. Shaking her head, Anna grabs Dave's hand and hauls herself to her feet, too. "Lead the way, oh wise snail," she slurs.

"What?" He crinkles his nose, as if trying to figure out why she's laughing before he furrows his brows at being called a snail. "What? Ah, fuck it. Whatever." He loops his arm around hers, taking a deep breath as he embarks on the treacherous and wobbly journey to the elevator.

Miraculously, they make it to the elevator without toppling and he slams the button a few times. It makes it there eventually and he herds her in before gratefully falling against the wall near the keypad.

"Whazza number?" He slurs out barely coherently, pointing wildly at the keypad so she gets his meaning.

She's not really sure how they make it to the elevator; Anna tries to lean her head against the door, until it moves to slide open and startles her. "Shit," she mutters, hardly even realizing she's cursing. Blame yourself for that one, Dave. They make it inside the elevator and Anna slumps into the corner of it, barely staying standing. Her head is far too fuzzy for her to be truly vertical right now.

"Number? I barely know her," she giggles, dragging a hand over her face. "Um. Um. Four!"

Dave barely even realises she's cursing, because they're both drunk and he got a princess drunk and teaching her naughty words is the least of his worries.

"Her? Who is she? Who is her??" He sounds so much like a jealous ex that he laughs, missing the button several times before he hits four. "Why couldn't you live on a good floor like Nine? Or Eight, even. That's four tw-" He cuts off as the elevator starts to move. Usually it's so smooth, but now it's like it's speeding downward. "Four twice.." He finishes the sentence, sounding appropriately alarmed over fucking nothing.

Anna turns her head, pressing her face into the cool metal wall. "Her--what? What are you tlllalking about, Dave." Short-term memory loss: a tragic side effect of getting high on alcohol, kids.

And then the elevator moves while she's laughing at Dave's laughing, and her laughter turns into a shriek, falling to the floor like they're on the Hollywood Tower of Terror and she's experiencing 1.3 g-force straight to her gut. "What did you dooooo," she moans from the corner, "to the elevator?"

Anna's confusion confuses Dave, because he doesn't remember what he was confused about and why it was confusing Anna. Suddenly his head hurts and he doesn't know why, so he just stops trying to use it.

He would dearly like to get off this ride, god. Why do they make elevators so dangerous? It's not slowing down, oh my god. It's broken, they're going to die.

"I JUST HIT THE BUTTON." He yells. "I just...hit the button." He repeats in a sorrowful voice. The elevator stops at Seven and someone is there when the door opens, but Dave hits the close button before they can get in. "IT'S BROKEN." He calls out after them, sinking to the floor as the elevator continues to move down floors and eventually stops at four.

"Oh guy mod, we made it." He breathes out as the doors open, wobbling up to his feet to stalk towards the door like a zombie.

Anna's laughing into her knees, hands covering her eyes, trying not to feel as queasy as her body wants to feel. "How could you break it, Dave?" She whines mournfully, wishing it would stop so she could get off this ride and not throw up in an elevator. "Howwww could youuu-" She cuts off abruptly as the elevator opens, looking up with wide eyes at the person standing on the other side of the door, before bursting into laughter again as Dave completely denies whoever it is a ride.

"Ohmygosh. Ohmygosh. Shit--" There she goes again, but this time because the doors are opening again and she's free from this hell ride. Ever so dignified, the princess crawls out of the elevator on her hands and knees, praising the solid ground beneath her.

"Noo, Anna. No no no. Get your ass up. Up, up and at them." He starts doing a Rainier Wolfcastle impression and then it just kind of doesn't stop as he keeps talking. "If you're on the ground. They'll know. They'll all know." He sounds serious. And German. His long, skinny arms are reaching pathetically for her like a flailing inflatable tube man advertisement. "C'mon. Stand like a sober person. Bed is so soon."

Anna groans, grasping at Dave's noodle arms in a pathetic attempt at pulling herself up. "Standing...so hard," she moans, once she's (shakily) on her own two feet.

"Uggggghhh. Dave, help. Walking...hard." She stumbles forward, almost into a column. She's never drinking again, never ever ever.

Even if she doesn't stand up, Dave is going to start dragging her forward anyway. The District suites aren't far away from the elevator and he's full of determination to get her in bed and safe before anyone notices.

"Yeah, cool." He grumbles, pulling her closer so they're pretty much pressed together and away from attacking columns. He peers around the corner of the door to her suites, glad to see nobody directly around and quickly pulling her in so he can slink down the hall and glance around.

"Which one of these boxes is yours?" He hisses out, he also means room.

Anna screeches as she's pulled in close to Dave, giggling a little bit. There was a time, when they first met, when Anna would have been blushing and falling all over herself, but now it's just. Nothing. Nada.

Which is good, since she's got a thing for his brother.

"Um. Isstheone with--the snowman on the door," she slurs. "Sparkly snowman."

If Dave had the cognitive ability to find it weird right now, he might. He has been getting closer with both her and Elsa to the point where this stuff isn't the cripplingly huge deal they used to make it out to be. Bro not withstanding, because he has no idea.

"Got it." He crows, then hushes himself and glances around conspiratorially. Letting her press against him is one think, drunkenly stumbling into her room with him pressed against her is another. Fuck it. Drunk Dave is ahead of the curve and throwing open the door, guiding her clumsily toward her bed. "C'mon, get in your mattress. 'fore someone finds out." He pushes at her, then steps back suddenly. "Water." Is all he'll say before he clatters off out of her room and into the kitchen without telling her any more.

Anna lets out a giggle that she totally thinks is quiet and subdued but actually resembles a dolphin in pitch and volume. Whoops. She clambers through the door to her room, practically frog-marched the way he guides her toward the bed, and with all the grace of a wet sponge, flops into her bed. She at least has the foresight to keep her pants on, thankfully.

"Mmmghnngr," she groans back, face pressed into the blankets about a foot shy of her pillow. Getting in here was an adventure; all she wants now is to pass out.

There's something hilarious about the way Anna flops herself into bed and there's something appealing about it as well. Not because of anything not platonic, but just because a cuddle and company sounds a lot better than heading up to his own bed to be alone because he needs to avoid Elsa.

It's an adventure, getting the water, rampantly bumping into walls and all but falling in the sink as he fumbles for a cup. Walking the water make takes the skill of walking with books stacked on his head and he skids into the room and sets the cup down fast as if he expects to suddenly drop it.

"Y'should drink." He pauses to consider that. "Watater." He adds, helpfully. "And I should, uh. Go?" He points at the door, laughter bubbling under his voice though he tries to hide it. "They're gonna catch us."

By the time Dave comes back, Anna's managed to scoot up the bed, rucking the comforter up with her, and roll onto her side. "Watatoes," she mumbles, and then finds herself reaching for Dave bonelessly.

"Noooo," she moans. "Stay. Stay with meeeee. I need---I need cuddles. Stat. Doctor's orderers."

It's a relief that she's got herself that far, because literally putting a princess into bed is above and beyond knightly duties. He backs away from her hands as she reaches for him, as if she's more like a boogeyman than his good friend Anna.

"Can't. S'late." He squints around, trying to find a clock to back up his claims. "They'll shoot us or whatever." He points out, still stepping backward and eventually out the door when he does. "Curfeeeewwwww..." He calls out, stepping back until his voice is a drawn out whisper. "Niiiiiiight."

Anna would probably be way more disappointed if she wasn't already half-asleep, and on her way to forgetting this whole thing. She rolls over and groans into her pillow.

"Noooooo....."

And then she sort of gives up on consciousness and passes out. Night, Dave.

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Whatever you do, whatever you say. [closed]

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