Who: Equius Zahhak and Lucas Lee When: Thursday Where: Lucas's room Summary: Feelings are hard. Especially when you're not used to having them. Rating: PG Warnings: none
Lucas has been teaching Terminator a lot of things that he probably shouldn't be teaching him. For example: how to make armpit farts. It wasn't really working, considering that making armpit farts is a lot harder when you're covered in long fur, but it wasn't making Terminator be any less determined. That fucking adorable mogwai son of a bitch
( ... )
He's definitely shocked when Lucas picks him up, scowling at him in frustration and wiggling around to try to free himself, but it's impossible without his strength and without any way to really push Lucas off of him. His one leg dangles ridiculously, and he has to reach down to grab the left side of his shorts to make sure they don't just slide off thanks to his nonexistent left hip and leg.
He's nearly snarling when Lucas plops him down, flushed, and he just glares up at him through his sunglasses, ashamed.
"...Don't do that. Hrrmh."
He hoists his shorts up a bit higher, looking at Lucas's face until he can't take it anymore, and his gaze shifts down to Lucas's knees, instead.
Lucas shrugs, a little embarrassed at his own actions. "I was just trying to help. You looked tired."
He looked more upset than tired, really. He's also wearing his own shirt again, the red shirt that Lucas gave to him nowhere to be found. Which is interesting, when just hours earlier he was acting like he was gonna super glue it on his body. Lucas looks at him, noticing the the avoidance of looking him in the face, and tries to sound as gentle as he can.
It takes him a while to respond, his fingers curling in the bedclothes irritably. He doesn't want to talk about this, but a part of him is telling him that he should do it. It'll make him feel better. He'll calm down, and maybe Lucas will be able to tell him what he's doing wrong.
"...Nepeta...was right. I've...I'm not sure what I've done. But it wasn't wise."
He glances up at his face again, then back down to the floor.
"...Aradia does not...return my affections, as I'd hoped."
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He's nearly snarling when Lucas plops him down, flushed, and he just glares up at him through his sunglasses, ashamed.
"...Don't do that. Hrrmh."
He hoists his shorts up a bit higher, looking at Lucas's face until he can't take it anymore, and his gaze shifts down to Lucas's knees, instead.
"...I needed to speak with you."
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He looked more upset than tired, really. He's also wearing his own shirt again, the red shirt that Lucas gave to him nowhere to be found. Which is interesting, when just hours earlier he was acting like he was gonna super glue it on his body. Lucas looks at him, noticing the the avoidance of looking him in the face, and tries to sound as gentle as he can.
"....alright. Did something happen..?"
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It takes him a while to respond, his fingers curling in the bedclothes irritably. He doesn't want to talk about this, but a part of him is telling him that he should do it. It'll make him feel better. He'll calm down, and maybe Lucas will be able to tell him what he's doing wrong.
"...Nepeta...was right. I've...I'm not sure what I've done. But it wasn't wise."
He glances up at his face again, then back down to the floor.
"...Aradia does not...return my affections, as I'd hoped."
Reply
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