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#and speakin Of That i might make a fic bout the whole chest thing- like i said its a thing ive wanted to tackle for a while
artificialqueens · 4 years
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Like They Do in Vegas, 1/5 (Vanique) - Mac
AN: This fic came about from a series of prompts I did on my blog and is entirely Ortega’s fault. I blame her, and this is also dedicated to her because Vanique is a god tier ship and I needed to contribute in some way.
As always, Meggie is a lovely person and I thank her endlessly for betaing this.
And to you at home I hope you enjoy!
BGM Challenge Notes: Vanessa and Monique’s friends show up in Chapter 4! And I’m working on a playlist for this AU that I’ll link next chapter!
Summary: Vanessa is a Casino Girl just trying to get by. Monique is a mysterious rich stranger. They meet in the city of sin. What could possibly go wrong?
Chapter 1: Go Big or Go Home
Vanessa arrived exactly twenty minutes before she was scheduled to clock in.
She threw her purse into the row of lockers and headed for the back of the small employee lounge. She passed the clock-in computer, the whiteboard on the wall, the flyers for various shows around town, and walked all the way to the last dressing room, after noticing the other two were already occupied. Vanessa smiled instinctively at the sound of Vixen’s voice raised above the sound of someone else playing music. She was yelling to whoever was in the adjacent dressing room, recounting a story of the night’s events.
Vanessa got dressed quickly, slipping out of her plain black jeans and sweater combination and into her sparkly silver dress that caught and reflected beams of light in a way that she had been told was mesmerizing. Vanessa never really noticed before she started working here, the dress most likely having been picked off a sales rack back home. It didn’t matter where it came from now.
What mattered now was that Vanessa’s hair was a mess.
Aquaria told her so and tried to sound exasperated when she did. It only ended up coming out fondly. Vanessa gave her a winning smile and batted her lashes too for good measure before the younger girl rolled her eyes and motioned to the chair beside her. Aquaria went to town on curling the particularly unruly strands, but there wasn’t time for much else; they both knew another round of patrons was due to hit any minute now.
Everyone that worked in Vegas knew the waves.
11 p.m. brought the moms and the bachelorette parties.
11:30 p.m. brought older couples and divorcees.
12 a.m. brought the guys with girlfriends.
12:30 a.m. brought the guys without girlfriends.
1 a.m. brought the wealthy singles, and the wealthy not-so-singles.
1:30 a.m. brought in the drunk people.
2 a.m. was what girls like Vanessa liked to call ‘closing time.’ Seal the deal or your ass was out on the curb for the night.
Luckily, Vanessa had an apartment, unlike some of the other casino girls. And the 300 square feet could be roomy—if she closed her eyes.
Vanessa made do.
Aquaria shooed her away from the chair at 12:55, giving Vanessa ample time to squeeze every last detail from Vixen, who was more than happy to recount yet another story about a creepy man trying to get her to join his brothel.
Offers like that were strangely common in this line of work. Well, maybe they weren’t so strange.
Most people thought they were sex workers anyway. Prostitutes or strippers, whores hired to seduce the male patrons and run them dry. Some of the other girls saw it that way. But as far as Vanessa was concerned, she was a glorified waitress. Her job was to facilitate the purchase of alcohol. The more people drank, the prettier she looked; the more they bet, the more they lost or won, the more money the casinos made.
In a lot of ways, it was a dream job. Vanessa got paid to look pretty and talk. Two things she was naturally gifted at.
Out on the main floor of the casino, Vanessa began her usual route around the space. She spent a good few minutes just drawing eyes, pulling focus from the card games, slot machines, and general greed. She walked slowly, careful to tilt her head down, flutter her eyelashes when patrons were close enough to see the eye makeup she had hurriedly done on the bus.
Vanessa was good at her job. She found a mark within five minutes.
Older guy. Late fifties. Nicely dressed. Seemingly ordinary. But what Vanessa instantly noticed was his watch. Rolex, one of the older ones. That’s ultimately how Vanessa picked all her marks. Her daddy used to say ‘what a man wears on his wrist he wears with pride.’ There was something more about shoes and hiding, but Vanessa never remembered that part.
She was fine with the Rolex, but she had really been hoping to find a Patek tonight.
Rolexes only started at $5,000.
But Vanessa made do.
She waltzed over to the roulette wheel, making sure to smile warmly at the employee behind the table. She gracefully rested her hands on the edge of the table as the casino employee gave a nearly imperceptible nod toward Mr. Rolex. Vanessa winked at him in thanks.
“You know I always go for 32,” Vanessa said to the group of men who had just started to take notice of her presence. She honed her sights on Mr. Rolex to see his reaction.
He practically preened under the attention. Vanessa rolled her eyes internally.
This was getting too easy.
Mr. Rolex eventually pulled up another seat and sent Vanessa to the bar three times before turning to ask her name.
If she were anywhere else, doing any other job, Vanessa might have been offended.
She only batted her eyes and giggled animatedly. “Vanjie,” she lied.
Mr. Rolex took that as his cue to lean in closer and press a whiskery kiss to Vanessa’s neck. She did her best not to freeze up under the attention and to just go with it.
It was then while pretending she was anywhere else, that Vanessa noticed a woman at the opposite end of the casino. She was sitting alone in one of the plush chairs that made up the lounge. It was noticeable because she was alone and fucking gorgeous. Long flowing dark hair and the tightest red dress Vanessa had ever seen that fell off her curves like water.
Vanessa was intrigued instantly. No woman that looked like that was alone in Vegas for no reason.
She convinced Mr. Rolex and his new buddies that they needed more gin and made her way quickly over to the bar, allowing herself the immense pleasure of ogling the strange woman from afar.
For all her smooth grace and easy confidence, Vanessa was rendered nearly incoherent when it came to women. Men were easy. You leaned over the table and their monkey brains took over. Women on the other hand… Women were a different species.
Vanessa tried to squeeze information from the bartender. He knew nothing, only that she ordered a martini and had been sitting alone all night.
Vanessa couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to her. So she did something stupid. Something stupid and silly that she would beat herself up over later: she ordered the mystery woman a martini. Vanessa went back over to Mr. Rolex and his friends, placed the drinks in front of them, and then made up an excuse about ‘being right back’ and having to ‘take care of something.’
Mr. Rolex and his friends were too engrossed in their game to care and Vanessa slipped away without any fuss.
As she headed back over to the bar, Vanessa noticed the woman was gone from her spot in the lounge. Vanessa’s heart sank in her chest and she was tempted to throw the whole night out as a waste when she noticed the woman perched at the bar looking directly at her.
“So you’re the cute thing that ordered me a drink,” the woman said by way of a greeting. “This one,” she nodded her head at the bartender, “was tellin’ me you don’t do that for many people. Should I be honored?”
“You tell me,” Vanessa shot back, surprising even herself with her quick wit.
The woman chuckled in response, throwing her head back and causing a commotion with her joy. Something inside Vanessa ached to be that free.
The woman motioned to the barstool next to her and Vanessa took it without another thought.
“You play much?” Vanessa asked, motioning to the various gambling methods.
“Betting?” the woman asked. “Not usually. I get sucked in, and you know what they say.”
“Hmm?”
“Greed is a sin.”
Vanessa laughed. “Oh baby, you in the city of sin.”
“Monique,” the woman corrected.
“What?”
“Not ‘baby.’ Monique.”
Vanessa smiled, and the woman, Monique, smiled back.
She raised up her hand to take a sip of her drink and Vanessa nearly choked at the sight of a Mille RM 51-02 draped elegantly over Monique’s wrist.
She had never seen a Mille in person before, having only ever heard stories of the watches that started at $30,000 and could go up to two million.
The vortex of gold and silver embedded in the watch face drew Vanessa’s eyes and she couldn’t help the smile overtaking her face. “Well, you know what they say, Monique?”
The corner of Monique’s mouth quirked up and she shook her head no.
Vanessa smirked. “Go big or go home.”
Vanessa smiled into her drink as Monique threw her head back in a laugh.
The sound reverberated off the glass in her hand, and Vanessa was sure that the joy in Monique’s voice had more to do with the warmth in her stomach than the alcohol.
“So what is it that you do, Vanjie?” Monique asked, her voice alight with humor and warmth.
“You ain’t never met a casino girl before?”
Monique shook her head no.
“I look pretty and get drinks,” Vanessa chuckled. “Speakin’ of,” Vanessa trailed off, looking to the side door where she could clearly make out her boss, Ms. Visage, glaring at her. “I’d love to keep talkin’ but—”
“How ‘bout I play some games?” Monique offered. “That should get her off your back, yeah?”
And now Vanessa was sure the alcohol couldn’t be the cause of the warmth because her whole body lit up under the knowledge that Monique wanted to spend more time with her.
“Thought you didn’t gamble,” Vanessa teased. “Somethin’ about it bein’ a sin…”
“I think if the Lord were in my place, he’d understand.”
They made the rounds: slot machines, poker, and Vanessa’s favorite, Blackjack.
The Blackjack tables were set apart from the rest of the casino, some architect really letting loose with the layout of the section. The ceiling was arched, and the tables were long surrounded by plush seating rather than the stiff angled chairs that lined the other tables.
Vanessa assumed her favorite position, perching herself on the arm of the chair while leaning into Monique’s presence, allowing her easy access to duck down and huskily whisper words of encouragement. All the while keeping their skin from touching.  
It was an old move. One she had learned her first week working here. The girls called it the Blackjack Bag. You made it so you were constantly leaning down to whisper directly in your target’s ear; this gave you the excuse to flaunt your cleavage while also getting a target riled up by the sound of your voice.
The Blackjack tables are where you bagged targets, hence, the title.
Monique seemed to be no different in that respect. No matter how hard she tried to hide her flush, each time Vanessa leaned down to compliment her, her hands tightened on her cards.
She was doing well. She had gotten a face card nearly every hand, and she knew when to fold and when to go for it. Vanessa was impressed. She told her as much.
“Beginner’s luck really does exist,” Vanessa teased.
Monique pulled her head back to look Vanessa up and down, taking her time to really take the younger woman in. “I’ll show you luck,” she said as she moved her massive pile of chips to the middle.
“All in.”
The men at the table squawked in a mixture of shock and protest. Monique just made a vague hand motion to keep playing.
Vanessa’s jaw was on the floor.
Monique only had a three and a queen. Statistically, at least one of the other players had to have higher cards than that.
The house went around, the men to her left and right got another card, but Monique stayed calm, and denied it.
It was then that Vanessa realized what Monique was doing.
She was using Vanessa as a lie detector almost, signaling to the other players what cards she had. Vanessa kept her expression neutral, and did a damn good job of it too because the other players all looked at her surprised.
As expected, they all folded, and Monique took back her mound of chips and the additional bets.
She looked up at Vanessa with a self-satisfied smirk, never breaking eye contact as she flipped her cards over.
The table erupted.
Two can play your games, she had said without opening her mouth.
Vanessa just smirked.
At one point, after Monique bested some business suit out of his measly twenty grand, the man approached Vanessa and attempted to make a move, running his hands harshly up and down her sides. Vanessa rejected him but pointed him in the direction of one of her fellow employees.
He didn’t seem to get the hint until Monique looked up from her cards and wrapped an arm possessively around Vanessa’s middle.
“I think,” she practically spit, “my girl told you to get lost.”
The suit looked at them with a raised eyebrow but didn’t dare say anything more. Vanessa felt white heat in her gut at the feeling of Monique’s arm around her, and she had to take a second to compose herself.
Vanessa turned back to the game and was surprised to find Monique’s eyes searching her own. “Does that happen a lot?” she asked, genuinely concerned.
“Yeah,” Vanessa tried to brush it off, “but you know, it’s Vegas.”
“And that makes it okay?”
Vanessa shook her head lightly. “Nah, but what can ya do?”
Monique looked at her hard, calculating. She didn’t say anything, but turned back to her game, placing her cards on the table before attempting to stand up
“I fold.”
Vanessa looked at her shocked. “You were winning, wha—”
Monique stood in front of her, eyes wide, asking permission, seeing if this was real. The vulnerability in her expression nearly made Vanessa take a step back.
“You wanna get out of here?” Monique asked, expression unassuming and open. “You can say no. I—”
Vanessa stopped Monique with a hand to her face. The first skin to skin contact. “Do I look like I wanna say no?”
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earthseaborealis · 4 years
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New Traditions and Worlds
My @homestuckss gift for @dykeiatrist ! I used “Davekat,” “Jane,” and “Hurt/Comfort” (with a bit of DirkJake) to create a cute little holiday fic! Hope you enjoy it :D Have a wonderful holiday season!!
Also on ao3 (@detective_in_space if the link doesn’t work!)
“Twas the week before Christmas,” Dave started before pausing, “Yo Rox, what’s somethin’ that rhymes with Christmas?”
“Ass? Wait, no, no that doesn’t work… Christmas…” Roxy muttered, “Okay so, like, the only thing I’ve got is Christmas, but you absolutely cannot rhyme ‘Christmas’ with ‘Christmas,’ right?”
“You’re definitely right,” Dave sighed as he scratched out the words in his notebook, “Dude, like absolutely nothin’ rhymes with Christmas words.”
Roxy moved over and rested their hand on his shoulder, “Karkat will appreciate the thought at least. Hey, there are other things than Christmas raps, like festive interpretive dances! Or Festive slam poetry?”
“Well, duh, it’s Karkat we’re talkin’ bout,” Dave laughed, but in his defense, it was true. Karkat would yell and insist that he hated Dave’s most ‘ironic’ gifts, but there was a certain fondness in his tone. Like it was just a whole elaborate game. The edges of Karkat’s eyes would wrinkle as his lips curled into a small grin. A small chuckle would escape, which Dave would obviously point out, and in response, Karkat would punch him (before wrapping him in a hug). Oh god, that was the best… 
“Hey sleeping beauty,” Roxy interrupted, as they lightly hit the side of Dave’s head, “Did ya invite me over here just to fall asleep?”
“Nah dawg, I was just thinkin’ about the usual,” Dave brushed their hand aside. 
“So,” Roxy drawled, “Karkat?” Roxy wiggled their eyebrows at Dave. 
“No,” Dave exclaimed, “Fuck, I mean, no. Hey, do ya know any, like, traditions that people do for Christmas and all that jazz.” Now that was a smooth change of topics. 
“Smooth like a baby’s bottom,” Roxy laughed, “But, nah. I didn’t even know Christmas was like a real thing… thought it was an urban myth or something.” Oh, right. Roxy lived in some highly-futuristic society that was enslaved by a fish bitch, but there was none of that oppressive dictatorship on Earth C. Trolls, Carpacians, Humans, and well, any other species were free to chill by the fire and enjoy whatever holiday they wanted. Now that, was what sweet, sweet democracy was about (preach Obama). 
“Lit, lovin’ that we’re both oblivious of any cultural traditions… hey, you think one of the Crocker-Harley-English… berts... would know more about this? I’m feelin’ like they’d be all up in that shit,” Dave said, “Oh fuck, I’m so smart. That’s like totally their thing.”
After quickly picking up all his stuff and saying goodbye to Roxy, Dave picked up his phone and dialed Jane Crocker, the holiday expert, on his way home. Wait, oh fuck, what if she was busy? It’s not like he usually talked to her, so was it out of the question? Oh no, maybe he should’ve just texted John...
The phone picked up, “Hello, Jane Crocker speaking?”
“Oh… oh! Hey Jane, it’s Dave… ya know… Dirk’s cooler bro,” Dave started. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and kicked a stray pebble on the sidewalk. Yes, he could be floating around, but exercise was important. 
“Well, howdy there Dave. It’s been a while since we’ve talked, hasn’t it,” she chuckled, “Anyways, did you need anything?”
“So, like, Rox and I were talkin’ about Christmas and stuff… and well, we’re both dumb and have no idea what people actually do for it, so I thought you might be the expert on the subject? Because it totally seems like it’d be up your ally,” Dave rambled on. 
“Well golly, I’m flattered. It’s been a while since I’ve actually celebrated the holiday, but of course, I’ll help you! Before the game, my father and I had so much fun celebrating… let’s see… Well, I’m sure you already know this, but we’d go out to a farm together and pick out a tree. I’d always search for the fattest tree, and my father would help me cut it down. And then we’d go get Hot Cocoa and pick out ornaments together, and well, oh sorry, I’ve gotten a bit off-topic, haven’t I,” Jane apologized.
“No, no! You’re literally the best… lemme just get a piece of paper to write this on,” Dave fumbled around his captchalogue, and pulled out an old notebook (of course, with Obama on the cover). “Okay cool, I got one, hit me with all that sweet, sweet info.”
“Alright… let’s see, what else… oh, well after we decorated the tree, we’d make and frost sugar cookies and cakes together. Oh! Karkat and you are welcome to come over together sometime and make cookies with me if you’d like,” Jane offered. Hell yeah, she was a literal legend. Roxy and Dirk had the best friends. 
“Yeah, dog, we’d love to! I’ll hit you up with a date once Karkat checks the calendar. You know him and… schedulin’,” Dave said as he continued to write down Jane’s suggestions. 
Jane chuckled, “Sounds good… and one more thing… My father and I would always put cheesy Christmas music on. That was the best… we’d make absolute fools out of ourselves, but it was so much fun. Literally, we’d just dance around and belt the lyrics… those we’re the days,” Jane’s voice started to crack… fuck… had Dave made her cry? “Sorry…” she continued, “I don’t mean to be so emotional. Oh lord, I’m sorry. I… I hope I helped you a bit, and just, feel free to come over whenever for cookies…” 
“Fuck, no,” Dave searched his brain… what would Karkat say… “Sorry for bringin’ up those memories. I know it sucks and all. I’ll give you some time and just hit you up later.” 
“Yes, that’d be great… see you later then,” Jane said as she hung up. 
Well, shit, Dave had already made one person cry and it was only 11 a.m. Maybe Christmas was just an emotional time and stuff. Jane was cool, though, so he hoped that she was okay. Plus, she gave him some kickass advice, and he was so ready to get his holiday spirit on. 
The rest of the walk to his place was boring. Dave tried to come up with some more sick raps for his Christmas album, featuring the new and improved version of “Jingle Bells.” The air was crisp and way too cold for Dave’s Texan roots (he blamed John for the freezing wind), so he was thankful when he finally reached the door. 
“Yo, Karkat, I’m home, and I come with words of wisdom from the one and only Jane Crocker herself,” Dave announced as he closed the door behind him. He attempted to throw his coat and hang it up, but it fell clumsily to the floor. He shrugged it off and continued through the cozy lil’ condo, finding his way into the kitchen, where he found Karkat doing a load of laundry. Yes, the washing machine and dryer were in the kitchen… it was only the most ironic, British mom location for them. Dave, being the coolest man to ever exist, ran up to Karkat and hugged him from behind. 
“Jesus fucking shit Dave! Are you trying to give me a blood pusher attack?” Karkat screeched as he jumped like fifty feet in the air (okay maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it basically happened). 
“Nah dude, you wouldn’t dare be all anime protagonist on me and faint. Like, imagine me runnin’ to cradle you in my arms while you murmur ‘I’m goin’ to have to kawaii the shit out of your desu.’ Literally, imagine that” Dave rambled. 
Karkat groaned at this, “Stop spending time with Dirk. You’re turning into a shitty weeb Karkat said as he pushed Dave away. 
“I can’t help it… it’s who I am,” Dave clutched yo his chest and fell to the ground, pulling the other boy down with him. Karkat’s words. The worst weapon of all. 
“I’m going to go live with Kanaya and Rose,” Karkat grumbled, falling to the ground as dramatically as possible (making sure to land on Dave with as much force as possible). 
“Like you’d do that,” Dave scoffed, “She’s worse than me. Plus, is you did, we couldn’t be all romantic and celebrate human holidays together. C’mon dude, we gotta act like a high school couple. Get all up in each other’s space and kiss under the mistletoe. Oh, speakin’ of that! I talked to Jane, who is literally the best, and she was like ‘oh Dave! Check out this super lit tradition I did back on the o.g. Earth. Like, you get to cut down a tree and decorate with the most ironic ornaments.’” 
“Sound detrimental to the environment and a waste of time. What’s the point of celebrating a fucking tree,” Karkat asked.
“Dude, it’s a pine tree, which is superior to all other trees. Besides,  it’s about family and friends. I mean, I never celebrated Christmas with Bro, but you can’t just diss Karen like that,” Dave said, using his best white mom voice. 
“Fine whatever. I’ll celebrate your dumb human holiday, but I call picking out the decorations,” Karkat bargained as he stood up and dusted off his pants (getting rid of Dave’s germs).
“Hell yeah, deal! Get your coat on, we’re gonna get a tree and bring it in our house,” Dave exclaimed, quickly getting off the ground. 
The boys quickly got ready and we’re out the door, hopping into their car. Dave has gotten it because well, basically of all Karkat and his friends could fly. He has listened to Karkat’s complaining enough and invested in an older, used minivan. And man, did he love the thing. Hey, maybe he’d become a car person after the holidays were over. 
Dave was about to drive to the nearest park with a saw, but Karkat demanded that he call and ask Jane first. Jane recommended a small farm in the middle of nowhere, and with the use of a GPS, they eventually found their way there (after a few hours of trial and error).
“Jane said that fat trees were better, but honestly, I’m lovin’ this tall ass one right here. I mean look at it. It’s taller than the Empire State Buildin’… wait, is that still a thing? Like an Earth C Empire State Buildin’?” In Dave’s defense, it was a totally valid question. Like, did Earth C have the same seven wonders of the world? Who knew. 
“Shut the fuck up. We’re here for a tree, not imperialism,” Karkat groaned, “And besides, our house isn’t big enough for that.”
“But Karkat, the economy,” Dave whined, “But like, what about this tiny one… it reminds me of you, short stacks.”
Karkat shoved him, “And the other reminds me of your flat ass.” 
“I’ll take that as a compliment… since you're lookin’ at my ass and all,” Dave pulled down his Stiller shades and winked.
“Shut up, you fucking twink. Let’s just celebrate your weird human holidays and get the tree,” Karkat grumbled as he attempted to pick up the tree. 
Dave doubled over laughing as he watched the 5’3 troll struggle, but once Karkat shot him an angry glare, he rushed over to aid him (with his huge muscles, of course). “Nice, I can feel it pokin’ me through my mittens. Ten out of ten would recommend.”
After endless trial and error, the pair managed to carry the tree to the register and on top of their car, a red minivan that Dave had picked out.
“So,” Karkat started, “We just put a tree in our block and decorate it? And then some creepy old man flies around the world and gives presents to children by putting them under the tree?” His eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to understand human traditions.
“Dude, I can’t even explain it. Humans can come up with some weird shit when they put their minds to it,” Dave laughed. The rest of the car ride consisted of Karkat rambling about trollian traditions. Their hands managed to find one another and rest comfortably on the center console (Dave, of course, kept one hand on the steering wheel at all times… hey, safety is important). 
Their next stop was the local hardware store. It was owned by a sweet, older Carpacian. In all honesty, she reminded Dave of the Mayor… a kindred spirit whose goal in life was to just lead and help make others happy. She made the place seem like the opposite of a place to buy tools. The place was decorated with festive garlands and cheery music rang through the air. Dave waved at her as the pair walked towards the Christmas section.
“So,” Dave drawled, “What kind of ornaments are we lookin’ for? Personally, I wanna find a dick shaped one… for the memories of cockscotch. Bless that game.”
“This is a family store, dick-muncher! And we’re getting triple-f ornaments! Family fucking friendly!” Karkat screeched, marching ahead (but not before grabbing Dave’s hand and pulling him along). 
“Fine, fine, I get it… gotta make our house grub friendly, for when John comes over,” Dave snickered as they walked the ornaments aisle. Who knew there were so many different variations in fucking decorations? You had some for your Karens, poor college students, newlyweds, too many to count. Karkat busied himself with the… glass ball? Well, whatever that kind of ornament was called. 
“These are nice,” Karkat noted, showing Dave a set of jade glass baubles (haha, like Kanaya).
“But like, dude, they’re so borin’,” Dave whined, “We gotta spruce this tree up… get it? Spruce is a kind of tree.” Dave chuckled at his own dad joke. Shit, he was hilarious. 
“Hey, I’m just trying to make this actually look nice. We’ll get other colors too, and “spruce” it up, as you say,” Karkat said as he went back to check out the boring ornaments. Dave, on the other hand, went to look at the children’s ornaments on the other side of the aisle. Most of them were new pop culture things that Dave didn’t recognize (God was he growing old). However, there were a few that grabbed his attention, and obviously, he was gonna have to show these to Karkat. 
“Yo, dawg. Check out these cool little fuckers. They’ll make our tree look mads cool,” Dave opened his hands to reveal a bunch of little crab ornaments. They were cute and not boring glass balls. Plus, crabs were like Karkat’s thing… he’d definitely appreciate them.
“Crustaceans? Don’t you just know the way to my blood pusher,” Karkat rolled his eyes, “Just put them in the basket before I change my mind.”
Dave threw his fist in the air and gave Karkat a side hug, “Hell yeah, you won’t regret this. We gonna get so festive up in this joint. All the moms will be beggin’ to check out the coolest tree in the neighborhood, which if ya didn’t catch on, will be ours.”
“You got me. I’m only doing this to make Carol jealous. She fucking deserves it,” Karkat chuckled. Yes, Dave knew he was doing swell when he made Karkat laugh. If only he could give himself a, well earned, golden star. 
“Dude yes, I fuckin’ hate Carol. C’mon, let’s get more lights. We gotta make this flashy and blow a fuse, speakin’ of which… do you know how to fix a broken fuse? Because I do not wanna call Dirk over to fix it for us. He’ll be like ‘Dave, I’m just tryin’ to celebrate the holidays with my darlin’ boyfriend… have I mentioned Jake’s ass? Damn, lemme just rant about that and never actually fix your broken utilities.’ Can you imagine the pain, Karkat,” Dave lamented? He loved his brother, don’t get him wrong, but he did not want to mess with Dirk this close to the holiday season. 
“I can, actually. Remember what happened the week before Jake’s birthday? Dirk is batshit crazy, but he gets it from you,” Karkat smirked as Dave feigned an offended expression, “Now, can we stop talking about his love life and actually pick out some decorations?”
The pair still had one more destination before they could go home and relax, maybe even decorate the tree… but knowing themselves, they’d probably wait until Christmas Eve to put the new lights and ornaments up. 
“Oh my goodness, I’m so glad you two could make it,” Jane said as she opened the door, “I’ve already got everything out, so all we have to do is bake and decorate cookies… and perhaps eat a bit of dough.” She ushered the two inside. 
“Hell yeah, you’re the best Janey,” Dave said as the pair put away their coats and walked to the kitchen with Jane. Everything was so clean, especially when compared to their house. Karkat would always fuss about his habits, but Dave felt a sort of comfort in the messiness. So what if there were shirts thrown on the floor and an unorganized stack of papers on the kitchen table. It built… character. 
“I’ve never had what you humans call ‘cookies,’ but thank you for having us,” Karkat added. 
“Oh please, it’s no problem. I love baking, and I especially love helping people get into the holiday spirit,” Jane said. The trio fell into a simple routine once Jane showed them the recipe, helping the two boys when need be. Dave filled the silence by rambling under his breath about whatever he deemed important, while Karkat concentrated on making his cookies perfect. 
“Hey look,” Dave exclaimed while holding up one of his doughy creations, “It’s a Karkat angel! A Kar-Angel… a Karkat Van-Angel!” His cookies were shaped into gingerbread men with nubby horns and an uncharacteristic smile. 
“And I made a Dave-Cookie… oh wait, it’s just a blob of dough, my fucking bad,” Karkat retorted, going back to rolling out his dough. 
It was a long process, but after a few hours, the boys had successfully made their first batch of Christmas sugar cookies. A few of the cookies weren’t burnt on the edges, but they were delicious nonetheless. Jane demanded that the pair take home their creations, as she didn’t have enough room in her cabinets for more holiday desserts. 
“Goodness, thank you so much for coming over and making sugar cookies! I haven’t had this much fun since… well, it’s been a while. Feel free to come by and help me whenever you all would like,” Jane chirped. 
“Of course, Janey,” Dave replied, “You best bet we’ll be back for some more goodies! Gotta get my housewife on. I can’t be accidentally poisoning Karkat with some undercooked cake.” 
“You’ve poisoned me with every meal of your’s, except the Kraft Mac and Cheese, but only because Roxy helped you,” Karkat spat. 
“Oh well, we certainly can’t have that. I’ll be seeing you both again soon then. Have a Merry Christmas and a wonderful new year!”
It was dark by the time they were home. Karkat and Dave both felt the sleepiness enter the body, as they kept yawning. It was too late to decorate the tree, so it was leaned against a corner. The pair immediately plopped down onto the couch and put on a holiday classic, Tim Allen’s “The Santa Clause,” which Dave argued was the best Christmas movie known to mankind, trollkind, and carpaciankind alike. 
“Y’know, I never imagined that I would celebrate Christmas. Like, dude, that shit was mads uncool,” Dave said out of the blue, interrupting the beautiful sound of Tim Allen interacting with CGI reindeers and kidnapped children.
Karkat groaned, “Well, me either, yet here I am, celebrating a dumb holiday for dumb human grubs.” He was just trying to enjoy this wonderful holiday film, but with Dave, silence didn’t last long. In a way, it provided comfort to the pair. He knew that Dave absolutely hated the silence, as it reminded him of his Bro. For Karkat, Dave’s endless rambling allowed him to take his mind off of his worries. It was an odd relationship, one that had taken years to achieve, but here they were… they had made it, yet Karkat knew there were still shaky moments for the two of them. Like now, for example. The pair both would jump around certain barriers, trying desperately to aid one another, while still attempting to not dig too deep. 
Dave rested his head upon Karkat’s thighs and snuggled into the pile of blankets, reminding him of their time on the meteor, “Y’know, I wouldn’t have this whole thing any other way. ‘M glad my first Christmas is with you, instead of Bro.” His words are slurred together and slightly muffled, and Karkat can’t help the stupid ass blush that creeps onto his face at the sound of them. 
“Fuck that guy,” Karkat spits. After a moment, he starts again, this time with a gentler tone, “And it’s nice to have you here too, no matter how fucking dumb your endless rants may be.”
Dave could almost hear Dirk whispering “Tsundere” in his ear as he chuckled, “Awe, love you too, KitKat.” He sits back up, nearly smacking the top of his head into Karkat’s jaw. He looks away for a second, briefly hesitating, then leans in, closing the distance between the pair. It’s just a brief peck, but it leaves the two of them speechless. Dave looks at Karkat through his shades. A light brush coated his cheeks and his lips curled into a small grin. 
Karkat pulls Dave into his side and looks towards the corner of the living room, where their small, fat tree is leaning against the wall. It was empty and in desperate need of attention (aka Crustacean ornaments). Filled with a sudden burst of energy, he paused the movie and stood up, pulling Dave with him, “Get off your lazy ass and get fucking festive. We have a tree to decorate.”
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ravenchaitea · 5 years
Text
HCW-ICT Update
For anyone who follows me for my fic writing a new chapter of my MuteProtagonist fic will be up tomorrow! In the meantime, preview under the cut. If you are a newbie, you can start reading by clicking right HERE. If you need to catch up on the previous chapter before the update tomorrow, you can do that here.  (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧ Thanks for all the support. Also tumblr really really messed the formatting of this up. Maybe I'll fix it someday....... But probably not. Lol  
Ryuji looked around the apartment in approval. He had spent the past week working on it. All the boxes had been unpacked. The furniture was arranged. It finally looked like a place he and Akira could call ‘home’. As an added bonus it had served as something to keep his mind busy. The first few days after the surgery had been quiet. Now that their communication had picked up in frequency again, he was eager to show off his hard work.
Akira would be finishing up his medical tests soon. They had a video chat planned for right after. Ryuji put some finishing touches on their bedroom before settling in the living room to wait. He glanced at his phone to check the time, his chest filled with nervous anticipation. He had just turned his screen off when the display lit back up. Akira’s screen-name appeared and Ryuji felt his heart leap up into his throat.
“Hey!” He greeted. The video took a few seconds to buffer. A side effect of bad hospital wi-fi. Akira’s face went from pixels to a clear image. Ryuji grinned.
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: What’s with that face?
For his part, Akira was smiling too.
“Ain’t nothin’. Jus’ glad to see you, man.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Me too.
And Ryuji did see him. His eyes drank in every detail. Though he was a little pale, Akira looked better than he had for a long time. His eyes were clear and bright and he looked well rested. His smile became more of a smirk when he noticed the rapt attention Ryuji was giving him.
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: See something you like?
“Shut up,” Ryuji replied sheepishly, averting his eyes away from the screen. They didn’t stray for long. “What’re you doing with your hair?”
**[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Oh that? Lavenza did it.
**Akira reached a hand up to touch the elastic headband at the crown of his head. The material held his bangs back, taming the normally unruly curls. It gave Ryuji an unobstructed view of his bright gray eyes and the long eyelashes that veiled them.
“Don’t take it off. It looks kinda nice.”
“Yeah?” Akira signed, cocking his head to the side.
“I like seein’ your whole face,” Ryuji mumbled in a soft voice, running a nervous hand back through his own hair. He still hadn’t had a chance to deal with his rapidly encroaching roots. “Your hair got so damn long.”
**[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Do you like it long?
**“C'mon man. Don’t ask me weird things.”
**[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I want to know. **
“Please?” Akira pressed. His expression was so openly sincere that Ryuji couldn’t bring himself to deny him an answer.
“Fine, okay. Yeah, I like it long. Y'happy?”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: :-)
“Dude. Stop with the smiley faces.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: :D
“Akira, jeeze,” Ryuji shook his head in disbelief but he was smiling in spite of himself.
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Hey ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I just noticed** ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Are you at the apartment?
**“Huh? Oh! Yeah, I finally finished unpackin’. Wanna see?” Ryuji had been hoping Akira would ask. In fact, he had specifically off centered his phone camera in the hope that it would grab the other man’s attention. ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I want to see.
**“Alright. I’ll give you the grand tour,” Ryuji limped to the front door and made it his starting point. From the entryway, it was easy to see the entire expanse of the living room. He swept his phone in a large arc in front of his body, giving Akira a panoramic view of the apartment’s main space. They still didn’t have a lot of furniture but in the middle of everything was a large black table. Ryuji indicated towards it with his free hand. “I went by that second-hand shop near LeBlanc and they had a used kotatsu for sale. So I bought it with some of the money I made workin’.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: You bought us a kotatsu?
“Hell yeah, man! You’ll be back before winter ends and we can probably use it in the spring some too. It’s not as nice as the one I had at my mom’s place but it’ll be fine for now. Right?
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: You’re making me want to drop everything and come home right away.
“You haven’t seen nothin’ yet.” Ryuji enthused as he moved through the apartment toward the dining area. The table and chair set from Akira’s room above LeBlanc had been set up. In the kitchen Ryuji opened every cabinet and drawer, showcasing their neatly organized dishes and utensils. He had spent an annoyingly long time the day before removing the old paper cabinet liners. He had replaced them with clean new ones and Akira took notice. He complimented them and Ryuji’s chest swelled with pride.
“Bathroom is next,” he announced, continuing the tour with as much grandeur as he could muster. He slipped inside through the living room entryway. It was an easy way to bypass the bedroom. He wanted to save the best room for last. He had stocked the bathroom with all their combined toiletries. New blue-grey towels hug from the walls. A matching rug was laid out over the tiles. “Futaba picked out the bathroom decor. I hope it’s okay.”
“It looks great!” Akira assured him.
**[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: We’ll have to do something to thank her.
**“Totally,” Ryuji agreed, nodding his head. “It’s weird to say this but it was fun shoppin’ for the stuff with her.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I’m glad you two have been spending time together.
“We’re actually gonna go to a game night thingy tonight.“
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: A game night?
“The weird guys at the tattoo shop have game night on Sundays. I mentioned it to Futaba and she practically begged me to go. So I’m gonna take her.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: It sounds like fun. : )
“It got me out of my chess game with Akechi. So I’m fine with it,” Ryuji sighed, feeling a throb of annoyance settle at his temple. “I still haven’t beaten him. I don’t think I ever will.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: He’s still coming over to play? ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I’m surprised he’s dragging it out.**
“I thought he would lose interest but I guess not.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: He can become hyper-fixated sometimes. ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Do you want me to talk to him about it?**
“No. It’s not that big of a deal. I just wish he wouldn’t come over every night.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: He’s there every night? ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: lol He must miss me. ;D**
“Don’t even joke about that, man,” Ryuji complained. “Did you ever finish that chess book he got for ya?”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Oh yeah. Finished it within a couple of days. There’s not a lot to do here at the hospital.
“Can I borrow it?”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: You want to borrow it?
“It might help me beat him,” He explained in a soft tone. He shrugging his shoulders to try and play off his embarrassment. “I’ll try anythin’ at this point.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Wow lol ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: You are desperate**
“You have no idea, man.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I’ll send it off in the mail before I go to my parent’s house.
“Oh, speakin’ of, how are things going with all that? Your recovery and your parents?” Ryuji asked, watching Akira’s lips turn down at the corners. He reached a hand up to touch the crisp white strips of gauze wrapped around his neck. Briefly lost in thought, he itched the fabric.
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Recovery is going well. I’ll probably be out of here in a few days. ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: My parents will pick me up and I’ll be stuck with them until Christmas. Maybe even New Years.** ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: It all depends on what the doctors say.**
“Sorry if this is a stupid thing to ask, but can you explain it all to me? I don’t know 'bout all that medical stuff like you do.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: It’s not a stupid question. I promise. ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I’m happy to answer anything you want to know.**
“I want to know all of it. Well maybe not all of it but the real important stuff,” Ryuji explained, earning a soft smile from Akira. “Takemi said the surgery went well. What comes after surgery?”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I’ll need to do speech therapy in order to regain my tone and clarity. ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I have to rest my voice before I can start on that though. It could be a few weeks before I’m allowed to attempt speaking.** ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I’m sorry again that I won’t be back for Christmas.**
“I understand, man. It’s not your fault.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: It’s frustrating ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I want to come home
**“I know,” Ryuji agreed. “I want ya home too. What about the surgery trial? Are you don’t with it?”
**[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Kind of. I still have to report my results. Right now it’s mostly a lot of medical tests and question sheets. ** **[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I also have to talk to Dr. Igor about my feelings. ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Which is really annoying.
“They’re still makin’ you see that creepy guy?!”
**[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Unfortunately. ** **[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Once I’m out of the hospital I’ll go see the doctor my parents picked out. And I assume a therapist too. ** **[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: They’ll send data back to the hospital. ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I might eventually have to come back here for tests or if there are complications.
��What kind of complications?” Ryuji asked, his tone guarded.
**[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Obviously there’s still a chance that the surgery failed. ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: We won’t really know until I’m able to start speech therapy
“And your breathin’?”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: It’s been better. I don’t wake up as much during the night. So that must be a sign that it’s better. [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: After the surgery, I was on oxygen for a while. They were pretty insistent about it. I’m at least past the need for that.
“Was it… Y'know… Scary?”
There was a short lull in the conversation after Ryuji’s question. The moment the words were out of his mouth he immediately regretted them. Akira’s eyes trailed away and he stared blankly off to the side. Ryuji could hear his fingers patting restlessly over the keys of his laptop. Tension set itself into the lines of Akira’s neck and shoulders
“You don’t gotta talk about it. I shouldn’t'a asked.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: It’s okay.
Akira turned his attention back to the screen. His eyes weary.
**[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Honestly, yes. ** **[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: It still sort of is. I won’t know for several weeks if it worked or if it failed. ** **[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: The uncertainty is frightening. ** **[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I was pretty out of it for the first few days so there’s a lot of big gaps in my memory. ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I’m not used to getting so much sleep so I still feel kind of foggy. The past few days haven’t felt real to me somehow.
“Anyone would be freaked out by all of that,” Ryuji insisted in a soft tone. “Hell, just hearin’ about it makes me feel kinda weird. I can’t imagine what you’re goin’ through. I wish I could do more for you.”
**[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: You’re doing amazing, actually. ** **[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: This whole thing has been taxing on both of us. ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: You’ve got so much going on right now.
“Speakin’ of,” Ryuji leaned back against the bathroom counter. “I thought a lot 'bout what you and Ann said. This whole tattoo thing I’m doin’- I enjoy it and I’m learnin’ a lot, way more than I was learnin’ at Uni. It might turn into somethin’ great for me or it might turn into nothin’. Either way, I wanna focus more of my attention on it. So yesterday I went in and dropped my classes. Er, well I put 'em on hold or whatever. I can still go back next semester if I really want to. I got my scholarship and all still.”
**[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: It’s like you said, ** **[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: You can always go back if you want to.
**“I know, it just feels like a failure or something’.” ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Don’t count it against yourself. ** **[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Okay? ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: You won’t know if you like something until you try it, right?
“It’s not my resolve that I’m worryin’ about,” Ryuji told him, grimacing. “It’s my mom. I don’t know what to tell her.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: The truth
“I know. I just-… She’s gonna be disappointed.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: It’s your life. You have to decide what you do with it. **[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I know that better than anyone. ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Trust me, it’s okay to take risks.
“Man, when did you get so wise? It’s kinda creepy. You’re turning into Boss or somethin’.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: lol Sorry. I might have laid it on too thick. You get my meaning though. [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: You never showed me the bedroom.
“Huh? Oh! Oh yeah!” A smile broke loose across Ryuji’s face. He had almost forgotten about the surprise in the bedroom. After adjusting his camera to allow Akira a clear view he entered their room. It was fully assembled, a clean mashup of the remainder of their possessions. Ryuji turned in a slow circle, stopping when he came to their sleeping area. What had once been two futons and a mess of blankets was now a neatly made double bed.
“You got us a bed!” Akira signed, his movements excited.
“Actually Ann and Shiho got us a bed.” Ryuji corrected, running his hands over the duvet to smooth a stray wrinkle. “Ann said it’s supposed to be a housewarmin’ slash Christmas gift.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: What?!
“I’m pretty excited about it. My knee ain’t a real big fan of sleeping on the futons.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Did you put it together by yourself?
“No way. Futaba and Makoto did most of it. Haru put the sheets on.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: lol I’m sure they made a huge spectacle out of it.
“You got no idea, man. It took them hours. Oh yeah! Speakin’ of Futaba and Makoto,” Ryuji trailed off suggestively. “How long have they…?”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Close to a year? ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: You really didn’t know?**
“I can’t know somethin’ like that!”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Don’t worry about it so much. It’s not any different from Ann and Shiho. Or you and me. ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I can’t believe Ann and Shiho got us a bed.**
“I can,” Ryuji scoffed, despite the rush of heat running up the back of his neck. “Ann ain’t exactly subtle with that kinda stuff.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: She’s persistent. ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Not that I’m complaining.**
“It totally gave me some ideas, y'know, for when you get home.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Oh yeah? [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Like what?
“Don’t ask for details. I’d rather show ya than tell ya.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Will you? ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Show me I mean** ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: When I get back**
“Of course,” Ryuji murmured, averting his eyes away from his phone screen briefly. “I can’t look at you when we talk about it.” _ "You’re cute,”_ Akira signed.
“Stop that!”
Before either one of them could say more, the door to Akira’s hospital room opened. Ryuji could hear someone speaking in the background but the words were too muffled to make out.
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I have to go now. I’m sorry.
“It’s okay,” Ryuji said, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “We can just text for now.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: Sounds good. ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: I’m glad we got to talk for a while.** ** [♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: The apartment looks great! Thank you for working so hard on it.**
“Of course, man. Go do your hospital stuff. I’ll talk to you later.”
[♣]]]Joker[♠]]]: TTYL
The video call disconnected, leaving Ryuji staring at their thread of messages.
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