unbr8kable | continuations

[Pauses, with a wave of something decidedly sheepish]

You, uh. You grab any spoons?

I thought you got spoons.

[Sighs, except not really because what’s the big deal, probably an easy fix]

Just put it directly in your face.

...ah. Sorry, dude.

[There's a brief flicker of self-recrimination; why didn't he grab any spoons? He had one job to do]

[But he shoves it down, and aside - leans forward and bites the end off the Giant Cone cone]

Just as tasty upside-down.

[Taps the small of his back, where she didn’t quite take her hand back after the photo; soothing, it’s fine]

Of course. I mean, its all stuff you eat with your hands anyways, right? Mostly.

[A twinge of embarrassment, that she can see that, actually; a larger flicker of gratitude, both for the contact and the assurance]

[He tips the cup her way]

You want some?

[Nudges into him; she didn’t remember either, but also who cares]

Even if it don’t got any natto on it, I’ll give it a shot.

[Teasing; natto doesn’t make everything better, hard as it may be to believe. She pulls the cup closer and takes another bite of the cone, munching away.]

Not bad.

[Considers; breaks off a piece of the cone and uses it to scoop up some of the pudding; offers it to him with a little hum]

[The embarrassment steps it up a notch or three, taking on a different flavor entirely. Color creeps into his cheeks]

[But he leans over to accept the bite, all the same]

...good call, dude. Edible spoons I can get behind.

Less waste, Earth-friendly. Obviously the plan all along.

[Grabs more cone for a wedge of ice cream, pudding, and a chocolate piece precariously balanced on the end; this too is offered to him—a sloppier but perhaps more delicious bite this time]

Obviously.

[He takes that one, too, the flush growing deeper, and the embarrassment with it. He is decidedly flustered - somewhere underneath that, pleased at the attention, and at the intimacy, and flustered that he's pleased, as well]

[He digs into the cup for a triangle chunk of cone - scoops out some ice cream, and some pudding, and a koala, before offering it to her]

[A faint, pleased hum at the color in his cheeks—he can always use more in her opinion, as well as more opportunities to take rather than just give. Even so, she accepts his offering, quickly lapping the koala into her mouth before snapping up the rest, more or less avoiding his fingers.]

[More or less,]

[The embarrassment spikes, bright and sudden, bracketed by something very like heat, that he tries his absolute best to squash down before she can get a read on it. If she wanted more color in his cheeks, that was definitely a god way to do it]

[Mixed success, sorry, sorry, though the link.

She picks out a couple koalas, offers them in apology]

[He accepts them, with another little flush of heat; probably he is also not entirely successful at avoiding fingers, given that koalas are much smaller]

[A preemptive apology is probably fine, right? Which is to say, he's offering her a chunk from the Giant Cone, ice cream and chocolate and cone all in one]

[She's not sure why an apology is necessary, but isn't going to complain about him feeding her chocolate; it feels pleasantly, selfishly indulgent, a satisfaction that she doesn't try to keep from their link either. (Attempts to be a little more careful when she takes it, at least, surely he doesn't wanna get slobbered over)

And turnabout is fair play, and cone sharing is caring, and she makes sure the sensors on her fingers are on before feeding him a chunk herself--gently, even if shoving the whole thing in his face would also be fun, she wants him to enjoy it]

[There's something very appealing, about her getting to feel indulgent, for once - something appealing about the fact that he did that, a small rush of pleasure and then a tinge of embarrassment, right on its heels. (Something very appealing about the little accidental brush of contact though he tries very hard to shove that down somewhere no one will see)]

[He does a better job, this time, of keeping clear of her fingers - it's a larger piece, and easier to avoid - but his lips brush her fingertips a little, all the same]

[Since she likes getting offered chocolate, he picks some of the koalas out for her, to offer those up, as well]

Ah,

[Soft--

Heat rises on her cheeks, sudden, and she quickly looks away--mentally shoves something down, clumsily biting at the chocolate, sorry,]

[A rush of heat, stronger than before, as she accepts the chocolate - as she catches his finger - as something sparks, bright and wanting, and he fumbles to tamp it down before she can see]

[His cheeks are burning; his eyes skitter out toward the rooftops of the other building, almost desperately, trying to find something else to concentrate on]

[Oh--oh. Whoops...?]

[Though the hopefully-muffled-enough feelings leaking from her end are guilty, it's different from before--genuinely embarrassed in a way that's probably too intense for the relatively mild sin of touching a lip or scraping a fingertip.

She ducks her head a little, a flush up her own cheeks; takes a moment before she can gather words to respond]

...Maybe--you should finish it.

A-ah - yeah. Sorry.

[Disappointment, there and gone in a flash, that he does not quite manage to hide]

[Guilt rushes in to follow it, and shame alongside, low and insidious. He ducks his head and keeps his gaze firmly on the cityscape, even as he breaks off another chunk of cone to use as a spoon, if only to give his hands something to do]

Don't--

[Alarm, chagrin, of course, of course-- She summons up something like a smile, nudges into his side again]

--Dude, seriously, you're fine.

[And she pushes this through the link as well: reassurance, apology, appreciation he'd be here with her in the first place--though she can't keep the ooze of guilt and anxiety from tagging along as well, her embarrassment darkened to anxiety]

Nothing's wrong, I just-- Getting mouthy's the puppy's job, you didn't ask for the worst dessert buddy, so--sorry for being gross, you don't gotta suffer in silence or nothing to be polite, that's all...

[The guilt doesn't go; it's tangled up in disappointment that he can't quite shake, in the almost-painful spike of regret as she stumbles through the explanation. Self-reproach comes hot on its heels, a quiet little ache that feels ingrained enough to be set dressing, to be a backdrop. It's been there so long it's familiar as breathing.]

[He shoves it down, as best he's able - tucks it carefully aside. And if he can't quite quash the part of him that's greedy, that's selfish, that wants too much when he has so much already, he can ignore it and hope she doesn't see]

...you ain't gross, dude.

[He musters up everything he can pull together to send back her way - warmth, and earnest affection, and gratitude for all of this - for her, and the rooftop, and the parfait, and for every single moment since they've gotten here and how stupidly happy it's made him. Somewhere under that, coiled around his feet like a serpent, is an implicit apology: it's not her fault, he's working on it, he'll do better, he's trying,]

Well. Cept for the natto.

Edited 2020-05-11 01:44 (UTC)

Natto did nothing wrong.

[And she of course is nothing like natto. But that is nothing new, so there's nothing about the tight, heavy ball in her gut to stop her from pulling up a more convincing smile, or from echoing back his feelings--trust, fondness, thanks.

She cuts herself off before saying anything more, however; maybe she and her big mouth have ruined enough things for one day.]

[He winces, a little, at that feeling - the tight, heavy ball, and that sense of things ruined, and how intimately familiar it is ~~and how much she's got the blame with the wrong person~~.]

Xia...

Edited 2020-05-11 02:36 (UTC)

[Takes a breath]

...I brought some real food, if you wanna take a dessert break.

No, I -

I mean, yeah, we can take a dessert break, but like.

[He ducks his head - traces the lines of the roof with his eyes, so he doesn't have to see her expression]

Sorry. For - for real. I been - trying real hard, since that one time, but sometimes I ain't - great at it?

But I been trying. And I'll keep trying. It's just - harder, sometimes.

[The guilt is wound through him like a vine; the uncertainty trembles on the edges. There's something else under that, something like - hope, almost? That she'll understand - that she won't hold it against him, that he promised and then keeps messing it up]

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Re: Day 235 - Emotion Share

Re: Day 235 - Emotion Share

Re: Day 235 - Emotion Share

Re: Day 235 - Emotion Share

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