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Dave sighs under his breath as he enters the common room. Of course, someone’s already using the alchemiter. He hovers there, for a second, debating on whether or not he should be an asshole.
It’s Vriska, who’s standing in front of the large machine, of course. Her spine is curling like that of a shrimp over the screen on it, stabbing at it with her pointy fingers like it owes her money. Dave notes that she looks very irritated, and sways towards the Not An Asshole approach.
But she’s Vriska, and he’s Dave, so he kinda has to be an asshole right now.
Dave takes a moment to school his facial expression, before he goes, gliding to Vriska’s side at the alchemiter. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye for a split second, before returning to her alchemy.
“Can I help you?” Vriska asks. Dave notes the surprising lack of malice in her voice. He stays silent for a moment too long, apparently, because Vriska stops what she’s doing, and turns to face Dave with a look of annoyance.
It’s then she makes eye contact with the large cut on Dave’s cheek. She snorts at it, because of course she does, and Dave has to put so much effort into not immediately insulting her in response.
“What’d you do, trip and die on one of your meme swords?” Vriska grins at the thought, and turns back to the alchemiter, before pressing the button to start actually creating whatever monstrosity she might’ve come up with.
“I bet it was that one, awe which was it..?” She grabs her chin in thought, mentally cycling through all of the terrible swords Dave has managed to create thusfar. “Was it the one-quarter origami sword? I can see you getting a wicked paper cut from that. Or maybe the 10-Foot Apple Slice. That was a good one…”
Dave forgot he was supposed to be an asshole right now. Or speak, in general. He supposes it’s a slightly better alternative to getting made fun of for talking to himself.
He sighs, and tries to silently clear his throat. “While I appreciate your apparent love for my wonderful abstract sword alchemy that is my number one medium of creativity, no, I didn’t do that.”
Dave watches as the alchemiter finishes whatever Vriska wanted, which he thinks is a new clothing garment. Once it finishes, he picks it up and chucks it behind himself, which gets himself a very nice glare from her.
“Are you shitting me..? Hey!” Vriska stumbles over her own feet and trips onto her ass Dave hip-checks her out of the way of alchemiter. “Asshole, don’t throw my shit! Don’t throw my me!” Vriska hisses as she scrambles up off the floor, and reaches to grab her new… Whatever the fuck. Dave doesn’t care.
“I don’t remember throwing you, broski.” Dave ignores Vriska for a moment, as he begins to fiddle with the alchemiter. He then pauses, as he considers something. “That’s actually a good idea. The apple slice, not throwing you. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna throw you, I have much better things to be doing.”
Behind him, Vriska glowers at Dave. “Don’t call me that.” She takes a moment to pick up the garment Dave threw, and checks it over to see if it came out the way she wanted. She’s apparently satisfied, because she immediately captchalogues it.
“And are you gonna tell me what’s so important you had to come in here and be a piece of shit?” Vriska moves closer until she’s practically pressed her chest against Dave’s shoulder, which he instinctively leans away from.
“Do you even actually care..?” Dave mumbles as he looks up from the alchemiter screen to rifle through his sylladex. He sighs when he discovers the 10-Foot Apple Slice is not there.
Dave’s shoulder bumps Vriska as he moves away from the alchemiter. She frowns. “Of course not,” she lies, “I just feel like causing you problems right now. Is it working?”
“Kind of, yeah.” Dave sighs again and floats towards the door to the room. Vriska, of course, follows.
“Oh so you pushed me out of the way for no reason? You’re just done already? What were you even doing?!” Vriska pushes at Dave’s shoulder, which spins him in the air slightly. He stops himself as he faces Vriska, and fixes her with a very unimpressed look.
“No, it wasn’t for no reason. If you really need to know,” Dave begins, ignoring the weird sparkle in Vriska’s eyes at the thought of receiving new information, “I’m trying to make a razor, or something, so I can shave my goddamn face. It’s driving me crazy.”
Vriska stares at him. “I’m sorry, shave? Your face?” Dave stares her back without an answer. Vriska reaches forward and grabs Dave’s face, not caring that her clawed nails dig into his cheeks.
“Ow..! Dude…” Dave instinctually grabs her wrist, but he doesn’t try to move her hand. “Yes. Shave my face. Do trolls not get facial hair..?” Dave looks to the side, bringing Vriska’s hand with him. He feels her callused and rough fingertips rub against the peaking stubble on his cheek, and forcibly suppresses a shiver.
“No, we don’t. That’s fucking weird. Eugh.” Vriska lets go of Dave, and he returns the favor in kind. They float in awkward silence for a moment, neither of them pressing the atmosphere.
Dave turns and proceeds down the hall towards his room on the meteor. Vriska, still, follows him, for whatever reason.
The reason is because she needs to know things.
“I mean I guess it makes sense you don’t have facial hair,” Dave starts after a moment. He rests his hand in a thoughtful position on his chin, his expression stoic as ever. “Aren’t you guys technically insects? Because of the weird, disgusting mother-egg-squirter y’all come from?”
Vriska cringes at his language. “It’s the mother grub , you bitch. And what the fuck is an insect?” Vriska waves her hands around as she talks, not that Dave can see. Her aggravation is almost palpable, though. Her curiosity has yet to be sated, though, so she follows still.
“An insect is a little crawly bitch that has a shit ton of gross limbs and are just. Gross.” Dave stops once again to face Vriska. “Kanaya, Karkat, and Rose have tried to explain troll reproduction to me enough times that I know y’all are fuckin’ gross.” He crosses his arms over his chest, and floats there, like he’s waiting for some form of rebuttal.
Vriska stares at him in silence, for a long moment. “I guess we are like insects…” She mumbles. Her face turns sour. Vriska pushes her glasses up with her middle finger, and brushes past Dave. “Anyways, can you hurry up? I wanna see how badly you maim your face after this.”
Dave huffs and follows her.
The two of them arrive at Dave’s room after a long suffering silence. Vriska stands to the side as Dave opens the door, and slinks in after him. She scrunches her face at the state of the room. Swords of various levels of cringe are leaned against practically every surface, and there are about… Vriska counts about two million random devices and machines, all beeping and blinking at different increments. Which absolutely does not drive her insane immediately.
(It does.)
“What even is all this shit?” She asks, nudging a microwave with her foot. It has a face on it, and… A claw hand? “How do you breathe in here..?”
“Hey, leave Neptr alone.” Dave floats over the minefield of shit on his floor, and digs through a pile of swords in one corner. He makes a small ‘aha’ as he pulls one of them out, causing the rest to fall over. Both he and Vriska cringe at the noise.
“Who? You have a living thing in here??” Vriska bares her teeth a little, and suddenly seems uncomfortable. Dave sighs, and puts the sword he just procured, the 10-Foot Apple Slice, into his sylladex.
“No, Neptr. The microwave?” Dave points at it, and Vriska visibly relaxes, letting her shoulders fall down.
“Oh. Why’d you name it?”
“He’s my son. He helps me mess with Karkat.” Dave actually smiles, but Vriska finds it looks weird, without the use of his eyebrows or eyes.
“Okay. Sure.” Vriska crosses her arms. “Do you have what you need, now? You’re not planning on shaving your face with a sword, are you? You’ll just end up cutting yourself again."
Dave’s face falls back into his neutral expression, and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “I dunno. I’m trynna think about how to make the apple slice smaller, y’know? I like it because it’s a one-sided blade, so it’s less likely I’ll cut myself with it, but I can’t think of how to make it smaller off the top of my head.”
Both of them look around the room, thinking. Vriska makes a face, before speaking. “Do you have any regular apple slices, still? You could easily turn that into a blade, then trying to shrink the sword.”
Dave shakes his head. “Nah, it also took waaay too long to alchemize those, so I don’t think that’s very feasible.”
Vriska sighs, and runs her hands down her face. Her glasses get dragged down, pinching her nose. She leaves them there. “How did you make the apple slice that big in the first place??”
Dave snorts at her. “Viagra.” The silence between them is thick. “No, all seriousness I used a meter stick and it somehow worked.”
“A what.”
Dave stares at Vriska from behind his sunglasses. “A meter stick.”
“What is that.”
“Do you know what a meter is?” Dave takes his hands out of his pockets and holds them out, like he’s trying to show her what a meter is.
“Yes I know what a fucking meter is, Dave!”
“Okay goddamn, a meterstick is a stick. That’s the length of a meter. So you can measure a meter.”
“Was that so fucking hard?!” Vriska pushes her glasses back up, and ruffles her hair with both hands. “We can just find another one, break it or something, and that might shrink it, yeah?”
Dave nods, and ushers Vriska out of his room with little waves of his hands. She scoffs, but does as directed, and waits in the hall while Dave kicks a few things around, before following her out.
The door shuts behind them, and Dave stops to think. “I found the first meter stick in Can Town. Probably best to start there.”
Vriska nods, and the two go on their way.
Vriska starts to feel a little bit of regret in her as she walks behind Dave. Can Town is on the complete opposite side of the meteor, and this is way more time than she ever planned on spending with Dave. Especially alone.
While chaos and yelling has always been a common occurrence with just about everyone in Vriska’a life, there’s something in the way Dave conducts his chaos that’s just… Different. And Vriska can’t decide if she likes it.
“Can I ask why you’re still here?” Dave says, barely loud enough for Vriska to hear.
“I told you, I wanna watch you cut your own face off. It’ll be great, and I can take pictures to use as blackmail.” She says this with a smile in her voice, but both of them can feel the lack of conviction in her threat.
“Yeah, okay.” Dave turns a corner, and continues on.
Vriska follows him without thinking about it.
The two of them arrive at Can Town, only to come across the absence of any sort of government official. Vriska notes that Dave is surprisingly unconcerned.
“Aren’t you worried? Isn’t the Mayor, like, always in here?” Dave shakes his head as he floats over the metal structures throughout the large room, taking care to tuck his feet in so he doesn’t kick anything.
“Nah, he’s probably with Karkat. Ever since I refused to watch any more of his shitty romcoms, he’s been forcing the Mayor to watch them.” Dave speaks louder as he moves farther away from Vriska to scour the edges of the room. “I almost feel bad, but I really hate those fucking movies.”
Vriska makes an ugly snorting sound that Dave notes sounds awfully like Terezi. She shakes her head, then goes to help Dave search the room for any other meter sticks that might be lying around. She also takes care not to disturb the structures, as she doesn’t want to face the wrath of Karkat or Terezi if she damages any.
Dave, she can deal with.
They both search in silence for several minutes, carefully peering around towers and underneath cloth drapings. Vriska takes the time to rifle through several large crates she finds in a corner, before a thought occurs to her.
“Wait.” Dave pauses where he is across the room, and slowly turns to look at her.
“What.”
“Can’t you just. Will the hair away?” Vriska puts down the cans she was holding, and leans on a crate. “Your aspect is time.”
Dave tilts his head at her. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I mean.” Vriska picks at her nails. “You can go back in time, go forward in time, etcetera etcetera. So could you just. Move yourself to a point in time where you don’t have facial hair..?”
Dave just stares at her. She stares back. “I don’t think that’s how that works,” he answers. “I mean. If I did do that, I wouldn’t be changing myself physically, I’d just go to a time where there’s a Me who doesn’t have facial hair. That wouldn’t do anything for myself.
“And even if it did work, I don’t like time traveling that much. Creates weird time loops and more alternate Me’s, which I’m not a fan of. More Dave’s means more Dead Dave’s.”
Vriska squints at him, then sighs dramatically. “So we have to do this the hard way..?” She doesn’t wait for a response, and returns to rifling through the crates against the wall.
Dave wonders, when and why did this become a ‘ we’ issue? He still doesn’t get it.
It’s only after another five or ten minutes, Vriska can’t tell, that she hears a little ‘aha’ sound from the other side of the room. Apparently Dave makes that sound whenever he finds anything. She turns around and watches as Dave dips himself into what she thought was an empty crate. His feet kick in the air as he reaches for something, and Vriska can’t help but think of him drowning.
Morbid.
Dave lifts himself back out of the crate after a moment of scuffling in the crate, with a small wooden object in hand. He holds it at Vriska with an air of accomplishment, but she has no idea what it is.
“That’s not a meter long, Dave.” She folds her arms with an unimpressed expression. Dave deflates, a little.
“I know, it’s a ruler.” He doesn’t elaborate further.
“And?”
“It’s a foot long. Like a third of a meter, give or take.” Dave makes a couple of motions that reminds Vriska of Eridan’s very lackluster sword skills. She looks away from him.
“Okay, and that’ll work? Let’s go..!” Vriska takes a short moment to shove a few things back in the crates she was looking through, before meeting Dave at the entrance to Can Town. She notes, in the back of her mind, that Dave didn’t put back any of the shit he went through.
“I mean. Hopefully it’ll work. If not, I’ll have to go back to Plan H.” Dave thus turns from Vriska and starts back towards the room with the alchemiter.
Vriska follows.
“I’m sorry, Plan H?” Vriska’s eyes go wide with disbelief. “That’s, what…” She does not count English letters on her fingers. (She does.) “ Eight plans?! Are we on number nine right now? How hard can it be to shave your fucking face?”
Dave lets himself crack a smile, knowing that Vriska can’t see his face from where she’s walking behind him. “Nah, I just like the letter H. This is my third plan, thank you very much. I’m not that stupid.”
“And what’s the previous two?” Vriska’s footsteps get noticeably angrier against the concrete floors.
“My first plan, Plan H, was a sharpened plastic knife.” Dave flips the ruler around in his hand as he talks. “Even after sharpening, it didn’t do the trick. And then I snapped it in half trying to sharpen it more.”
Dave hears a very disappointed sigh from behind him, and he notes there’s not much fondness there, not like when Rose does it.
“Plan M, my second plan, was swords. Hence the sick lick.” Dave turns midair to point to the cut on his cheek. “We’re on Plan 83 right now.”
Vriska makes a pained expression at the sudden inclusion of numbers.
Dave moves to float horizontally, resting his leg on the opposite knee and folding his hands behind his head. Vriska continues walking slightly behind him, and forces herself to look away from Dave when she catches a glimpse of his eyes under his shades.
“I still don’t understand why you don’t just fly,” Dave murmurs as they go. Vriska makes a smacking noise with her mouth, and begins to dramatically swing her arms as she speaks.
“There’s no fucking point,” She responds, counting the tiles on the floor. “And the wings are inconvenient as all shit.” Dave leans up a little to look at her.
“I don’t get how that shit works. You get the wings from godtiering, but you can just get rid of them? But you need them to fly. Fucked. Up.” Dave shakes his head. “ I would want wings, though. It’d be sick,”
“If I didn’t need them to, I probably would fly more often. But alas…” Vriska flips her hair, and watches as Dave floats right past the entrance to the common room. “Oh my god,” she mumbles, turning to enter the room.
Dave mutters a little ‘oh shit’ and leaves his current pose to backtrack and follow Vriska in.
The two of them approach the alchemiter in silence, exchanging very awkward looks. Vriska stands to the side with her hands on her hips, and waits. Dave opens his sylladex and pulls out the 10-Foot Apple Slice, and leans it against the large machine. He rests the ruler on part of it, and gets to work.
Dave’s never liked alchemizing shit. It’s too complicated, between the punching cards and uncertain results. He just hopes he gets what he needs, this time. Dave eyes the ruler for a moment like a prized artifact, before snapping it in half.
Vriska makes an embarrassing sound, from where she’s standing to the side. “Wh- okay. Okay. What are you gonna do if that makes it the wrong size?” She crosses her arms and cocks a hip, leveling Dave with one of the most judgemental looks he’s ever seen.
He stares right back and says, “I guess I’ll just have to be prepared to die.” Dave turns back to the alchemiter.
Vriska stares at the side of his head with an incredulous expression.
It’s not until a few minutes later that Dave manages to get a less grist expensive way to finish his little project. He turns his head towards Vriska, lowers his shades just a touch, and makes direct eye contact with her.
“It’s time. It’s the moment of truth.” Dave, thankfully, doesn’t comment on the absolutely floored expression on Vriska’s face. He tilts his chin up, obscuring the view of his eyes once more. “Will I be an evil time wizard..?”
Vriska doesn’t get the time to question him before Dave pushes the button to begin making their little… thing. A short flash later, and there’s a brand new object waiting scrutiny on the surface of the alchemiter. Both Vriska and Dave inch forward, to see if it’s good.
“Oh okay, cool, I don’t have to be an evil time wizard.” Dave scoops up the Appropriately-Sized-For-Facial-Grooming Apple Slice Sword, and captchalogues it.
“Why the fuck would you become an evil time wizard?” Vriska says in her sassiest voice. She knocks him with a very unamused expression.
“I mean. If I’m stuck with the facial hair, might as well, y’know?” Dave mumbles, rubbing his chin. “Wizards are sick.” He turns to fully face Vriska. “Are you gonna come watch me do this, or are you finally going to leave me alone?”
Vriska scoffs, and pretends she’s not a little bit hurt at the implication that her presence is bothering him. “You could’ve told me to go away at literally any point, Strider.” The urge to get away suddenly overcomes Vriska’s need to know about this weird human Thing. “In fact, I might just fuck off now, anyways, since you still feel like being an asshole!”
Dave’s eyebrows skyrocket as he watches Vriska move past him to the exit. “Wait no..!” He snaps his mouth shut and manages to school his expression before Vriska turns back around.
Her own face holds an expression of disbelief. “...What?”
Dave shoves his hands in his pockets and makes sure to speak with an exceptionally bland voice. “I was. Um. Actually gonna ask you. Um.” Vriska watches as Dave visibly swallows, and makes a ‘get on with it’ motion with her hands.
Dave huffs and turns his head away from Vriska. His eyebrows pinch downward, but his expression otherwise doesn’t change. “I was gonna ask you… If you could help me?” He says quietly. “I don’t… I don’t have the steadiest hands, and uh. Yeah.”
Vriska’s eyes go wide at his admission. Dave? Strider? Asking for help?? Unheard of. She somehow resists the urge to laugh at him. “You want me,” she splays a hand over her chest in her usual dramatic fashion, “to help you.” Dave nods.
“If you wouldn’t mind. Since you’re already here.” Dave crosses his arms over his chest and continues to look away from Vriska.
“And you’re not like. Asking Rose? Or Karkat?” Vriska notices Dave’s expression becoming even more upset, so she backtracks, “I mean I’ll do it..! I’m just surprised, y’know. We’re not exactly besties.” Dave faces her again, and shrugs.
“Karkat would just yell at me the whole time. And don’t get me started on Rose. She’d probably rant to me about gender theory the entire time.” He uncrosses his arms and floats more towards the exit to the hallway. “So… You’ll help me?”
Vriska hates that she finds his more hopeful voice… Cute. Ugh. “Yeah, come on…” She dramatically sighs, rolls her eyes, the whole shebang. But she follows Dave out of the room, and down the hall to one of the many bathrooms they all share.
“Do you even know how to shave your face?” Vriska asks as they walk again. She thinks that this feels repetitive. Dave floats awkwardly next to her, stiff with his hands in his pockets.
“Not really, I never saw my Bro shave. I only really saw people do that shit in movies, y’know?”
Vriska looks at him like he’s crazy, and she ignores the little burst of excitement she feels when she gets another peek of his eyes from the side. “Do you know anything? Cuz I sure as shit don’t know how to shave someone’s face!”
Dave sighs under his breath, and comes to a stop in front of the bathroom. “I have a jist of the process…”
Vriska just looks at him like he’s stupid.
Dave must admit, he thinks to himself, this may not be the best idea. Especially as he comes to find himself really fucking close to Vriska once they both enter the bathroom. It’s small, with only enough counter space to really house a simple sink. There’s a toilet and a shower stall as well, but there’s not much room to stand in here.
Vriska notices this too, and hops onto the counter to give Dave a little more space. She’s also quite a bit taller up here, but that’s besides the point. Vriska precariously positions herself on the edge, so that she doesn’t fall back into the sink.
“So. What else do we need for this, other than your little knife thingy?” Vriska folds her legs up and rests her elbows on them. Dave find himself likening her spine to a shrimp again.
“Um.” Dave does a little spin while he surveys the small room. “Probably some soap, or something. Usually people use shaving cream, I think, but I doubt we’ll find any around here…”
Vriska nods slowly and also takes a look around the bathroom. She’s pretty sure it’s the one that Karkat and Dave chose to share, if the dark pajama pants across the floor are at all telling. She plants her chin in her hand as she thinks.
“...Do we still have any of those soap bars?” She wonders out loud. It was part of the random junk they found tucked away in the few storage rooms around the meteor. A whole crate full of scentless, colorless bars of soap. At least whoever built this place thought of hygiene.
Dave makes a little hum sound. “We should. Watch out…” Dave sets his feet on the ground and crouches in front of the counter. Vriska brings her legs in a little closer so she doesn’t accidentally kick him, and watches him rifle through the cabinet under the sink.
He once again makes that stupid little ‘aha’ sound and pops up holding a bar of unused soap. He has a very small smile on his face. Vriska very much doesn’t care. (She does.)
“Okay, so I put the soap on your face, then cut the hair?” Vriska makes a little grabby motion with her left hand, wordlessly asking for the Appropriately-Sized-For-Facial-Grooming Apple Slice Sword. Dave uncaptchalogues it and hands it to her handle-first, and Vriska mentally appreciates the politeness of not handing it to her blade-first.
Vriska flips the little apple blade (not the company, the fruit), and tests ist balance in her hand. She’s gotta be honest, the balance is really shitty, but she supposes it doesn’t matter.
“Can you uh.” Dave makes a little shooing motion with his hand, and Vriska slides to the side so he can get to the sink.
“Oh, sorry.” Why did she apologize. As Vriska scrunches to the side of the counter, she finds herself between the wall and Dave’s shoulder. She watches as Dave takes the wrapper off of the soap, then runs it under the faucet for a moment. If you ask Vriska if she’s staring at Dave’s hands, she would kill you.
She’s totally staring at his hands.
Dave takes a step back, after a moment, and Vriska feels his eyes on her through the stupid shades. She barely supresses a really weird shiver. Vriska resituates herself on the edge of the counter, and decides to ignore the way the surface digs uncomfortably into her exceptionally flat ass.
That’s a problem for future Vriska.
Dave stands there, with a wet bar of soap, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Vriska sticks her hand out, and he drops it right into her palm. She doesn’t appreciate the texture.
The awkwardness of the situation is palpable, and Vriska can feel her insides twisting due to the atmosphere. She frowns, and reaches forward with the hand that has the apple slice, grabbing Dave by the chin. She nearly yanks him forward, dragging him into her space, being careful not to cut him.
Dave catches himself with his hands on the counter on either side of her, and definitely does not make an embarrassing sound. His shades slide down his nose the slightest bit, and Vriska decides the way his red eyes stare into her is unsettling.
“Can I… Help you?” Dave nearly whispers. He doesn’t move at all, lets his shades hang precariously off the tip of his nose, leaves his hands on the sides of Vriska’s legs.
“Needed you closer.” Vriska decidedly doesn’t stare at Dave’s eyes, and hates the way her eyes land on his thin lips. She pries her eyes away and decides to study the short hair popping out of his cheeks. She hopes her face isn’t blue. “How the fuck do you expect me to shave your face if you’re all the way over there..?”
Dave just shrugs, and shuffles on his feet, rebalancing himself. He picks one hand off the counter, hesitating before pulling his shades off, only to rest them on the top of his head. His eyes are wide, uncertain, and he’s still staring as Vriska makes eye contact again.
She can hear him swallow.
Vriska lets go of his chin, but he stays put, if only putting his neck at a less awkward angle. She reaches up and pulls her own glasses off, copying Dave. Vriska suddenly remembers that she’s supposed to be doing something. She puts the apple slice between her teeth for a moment, and lathers the soap in her hands.
“So I just…” Vriska mumbles, words half slurred due to the blockage. She gently smears soap down the left side of Dave’s face, in a motion that she finds uncomfortably similar to papping. Vriska tries her best to avoid getting it in his cut, taking a lot more care than she thought she would.
Dave doesn’t respond, and averts his eyes to stare at the wall. He forces himself to not stiffen as Vriska takes his chin in her hand again to reposition him. He feels the soap trickle down just a little, and forces himself not to wince as it gets in his cut. He’s lucky it’s nearly scabbed already, he thinks.
He does look down as Vriska moves her hands around in his peripheral vision, and watches as she sets the soap on the counter, just next to his own hand. She wipes her hand on her jeans, and promptly takes the Appropriately-Sized-For-Facial-Grooming Apple Slice Sword out of her mouth, running the blade along her pants as well, which Dave decides he appreciates.
His eyes follow her hand as it comes back up, and they make eye contact once more. Dave looks away again, this time studying the weird, choppy layers to Vriska’s hair, and the way her horns curve. He flinches, ever so slightly, but doesn’t resist as Vriska’s hand comes to hold his face still, and makes very brief, awkward eye contact with himself in the mirror.
“Hold still, yeah?” Dave makes an affirmative noise in response, and waits. He feels the side of Vriska’s hand make contact with his cheek, then the warm side of the blade. She drags it across a small section of his face, firm, but slow. It’s uncomfortable, and Dave tenses his arms to stop himself from cringing.
He does pull away, after a moment, and lets himself pull a face. Vriska frowns at him, but doesn’t yell at him. She just waits.
“I think it’s more of a smaller motion,” Dave says quietly, carefully touching the spot on his cheekbone where the blade just was. “Like a back and forth.” He makes the motion with his own hand, and she watches, nodding in understanding.
“Okay, okay.” Dave supposes that’s the closest Vriska will come to apologizing needlessly, if she hadn’t already done so earlier. “Come back.” He does as asked, and returns to where he was, letting out a long breath through his nose, which he’s sure she can feel on her face.
Vriska’s face scrunches a little in concentration, repositioning Dave’s face, and returning her other hand to barely rest on his cheek. This time, the catch of the blade on his skin is much less jarring, and Dave can hear the scratch of his stubble on the blade, marvels at the fact that he can’t really feel it too much.
She works in silence, and Dave lets himself be worked on in silence. He moves his head wherever she positions it, and forces himself not to make weird faces at the sensation, not to smile at the way her face moves around as she concentrates. He lets his neck muscles relax whenever Vriska takes a moment to re-lather the soap, and squints hard when she accidentally positions him to stare straight into the light as she gets his neck.
Dave notices, but doesn’t comment on the way that Vriska wipes the blade off on her flannel shirt whenever it gets too much soap and hair on it. She could’ve just… Asked for a towel. But he doesn’t comment. Just silently makes a note for next time, and considers asking Kanaya to make her a new one.
Vriska doesn’t know how long she spends there, hunched over on the bathroom counter with her hands all over Dave’s face. …She decides she hates the way she phrased that.
She knows it’s been long enough, however, for her legs to start going very, very numb. “Okay,” she mumbles, removing her hands from Dave’s face, “Gimmie a sec…”
Dave backs away slightly, hesitating before sliding his hands off the counter. He gingerly touches his face, noting the very slightly raw feeling of some spots. He watches as Vriska untucks her legs, hissing as she stretches them out.
“Numb?” Dave asks, suddenly realizing that his own legs feel rather stiff. Vriska nods in reply, and Dave goes about his own minute stretches for a moment. Vriska bats at her legs to try and get her blood flowing, and Dave snorts. She frowns at him, but doesn’t actually seem upset. Vriska gives him a nice whack to the arm.
“Ass…” Vriska pouts at him.
“Was that really necessary?”
“Absolutely it was. I’m doing you a huuuuuuuuge favor, and you’re laughing at me!” Vriska crosses her arms. Dave cracks a huge grin at her. She finds it almost scary, with how unusual it looks on his face. She definitely doesn’t like his smile.
Okay she kind of does.
“I’m not laughing at you,” Dave crosses his arms over his own chest, and he schools his expression. “For real though, I appreciate this.” They stare each other down, and the brief silence forms some kind of emotion between them. Neither of them have the stomach to name it.
“Yeah, it’s whatever,” Vriska mutters, turning away from him. She lets her legs hang off the counter, idly bouncing one of her heels off the cabinet door. “Now come back over here so I can finish. I only have one little spot left.”
Dave doesn’t note how she makes it terribly inconvenient for Dave to return to where he was, as Vriska twists around herself to run the bar of soap back under the faucet for a moment. He does as he’s told, though, after she turns back around. Neither of them comment on the fact that Dave’s ended up between Vriska’s legs, although he does mentally note that she seems obnoxiously small, in the moment.
They don’t speak further, as Vriska applies more soap to the last section of his neck she hadn’t gotten yet. Dave lets her pull his face around again, and tries not to look directly at the overhead light.
“...Do you find it funny, that you’re- ow!” Dave pulls away, and carefully touches the spot where Vriska accidentally nicked him with the blade. He pouts at her. Vriska looks annoyed as fuck .
“Why the fuck did you start talking?!” She accidentally flings soap on the wall with her hand as she wildly gestures with it. “You were doing so good, that whole time, and we take one fucking break, and suddenly you can’t sit still!”
Dave does not pout even more. (He does.) “Do you find it funny, ” He begins again, “That you’re using an apple slice to shave my face.” He stares Vriska down as her glare worsens. He feels very, very uncomfortable, all of a sudden, about the absence of his shades.
“No, Dave, I don’t find it funny.” Vriska tightly crosses her arms, getting more soap on herself, and most definitely poking herself with the apple blade. “I think it’s perfectly mundane, and you’re being ridiculous.” She stares right back at him. She’s lying. It’s a tad bit funny. Barely.
Dave loses the staring contest that doesn’t actually occur. He just couldn’t stand the eye contact anymore. He sighs. “Whatever, buzzkill. Sorry for moving.” He doesn’t move back into her space.
Vriska sighs, long and deep, and motions for Dave to come back. He does. Vriska’s a tad bit more forceful as she positions his head back to where she had it, exposing his neck. Dave wonders if only jadebloods can be rainbowdrinkers. He shudders.
“The cut’s not too bad, do you want me to finish this spot?” Vriska asks, pulling his jaw back down so he’s looking at her again.
“Uh. Yeah, I guess. I’ll letcha know if I change my mind.” Vriska nods in understanding, and repositions him once again. Dave settles in, returning his hands to the counter. Vriska doesn’t comment that one hand accidentally settles on her knee instead.
Finishing up is very brief, and they manage it without another accident. Dave knows they’re done, as Vriska moves his head around slowly, as if admiring her own work.
“Okay,” she breathes out, “We’re all done.” Dave resists the urge to tell her that he knows.
Dave takes a step back, giving Vriska enough room to hop off the counter. He politely ignores the way her legs almost go out under her, and she hisses at the soreness. As she moves a little further away from the counter, Dave maneuvers around her to press himself against the counter, nearly back where he just was. He leans in further, gently running his hands over his face as he scans himself over in the mirror.
“Looks pretty good…” Dave straightens back out, and turns away from the mirror, to where Vriska is seemingly just realizing how much soap and hair she wiped on her shirt. He snorts.
“Shut up, asshole.” Vriska takes her outer shirt off, and captchalogues it. Dave notes that her arms are surprisingly muscular. Not buff, but very lithe. He looks away from her as Vriska pulls out a cardigan he’s never seen before, and slides it on.
“Yeah whatever. Thanks, though.” Dave nods his head a bit forcefully, and his shades nearly slide right back into their normal position. He fixes them with one hand, then shoves both into his pockets.
“So, I’ll see you next week?” He asks. Vriska looks up at him with wide eyes.
“What the fuck do you mean?”
“...It’s gonna grow back. It’s hair.” Dave cracks a small smile as he watches Vriska’s face mold into a tight expression. She doesn’t quite look angry, but she’s definitely not pleased, either.
“Fucking hell…”