It's rough to say it, especially when he's feeling like he's got to walk on eggshells. He's walked on them before, not even figuratively, he's learned before he could just fly instead. He's essentially immortal and shouldn't be afraid of the same things he used to be, but god damn it. Things still hurt and he doesn't want that sort of thing to be the first thing that happens the moment he finds out his ... his dad isn't dead. Make of it what he wants, it's true.
The silence as a prefix for the talk, it's killer and Dave hates silence, too. It's why he talks so damn much when he gets nervous. At least Dirk has listened to him and it seems like even retained enough of it to give a fuck about his monologue which in itself is a surprise. Dave's eyes have strayed to the box in the strong hand holding it. That's going to be his first indicator if he has to stand up and move away, that juice box is a little easier to take the crushing brunt of any anger too late to quell.
There it is. The both of them are dropping all pretense. It's the accent coming out, the thing they both reserve for their most relaxed of times or the times when they're being the most real for a better set of terms. A Strider and a Strider in the same room is always going to be tense. Dave does get it and he "Yeah..."'s quietly so he's not interrupting but that there's a specific marker for him to tell Dirk he understands. It doesn't make any of this easier, but he's not wrong. Dave has no right to father his father. Technically it's not wrong but specifically it's not right.
The life of Dave feeling tense has drained out of him and poured into his shoulders drooping at the mention of just why Dave got into the medium at all. He didn't really do much of that on his own without Bro. He doesn't like hearing that he had a single purpose and has already worn that purpose through. In a mimic of what Dirk went through, minus the juice box, which Dave picks back up to take a small drink off of after Dirk gets it off his chest, too.
It's clear that Dave is trying his best to work through what he's supposed to say. Something that's going to make everything alright in some weird role reversal that he sort of threw on himself. It's not even Bro's fault. He licked his top lip again, his jaw hanging a little bit as if he's going to say something. There's so many somethings he should say.
However, he's gone with something that he hopes gets the point across. If it weren't for that smile, that damn smile, Dave might not have actually considered this after being scared by Dirk's aggression. Even a small one. But there really was a smile there, something that he can't remember the last time his guardian had done. If ever in his memory's reach. It's almost the same as the man who took him to stand at turn tables the moment he had coordination in his fingers to lift them past flailing.
"Fuck, Bro, don't make it weird. You're gonna make me say I want you around, I'm goin' to say it and then you're gonna make me dance around talkin' 'bout bullshit like your purpose. A purpose is what you make it dude." He stands up for a moment stretching his shoulders back with a few popcracks of joints, drinking a little bit of his juice while he stares at nothing in particular. "Don't make me into a sappy pussy when I'm tryin' to be upset with you. If I didn't want you around I would have told you to get the fuck out when I realized it was you. So..." he looks over his shoulder, shrugging the opposite one. "Stay until you find somewhere. I don't wanna cramp your style with all my six inches."
How about a dick joke to go with the ruler joke, that's a dick entendre joke. Besides if it gets bad, maybe the showdown would do them both good. Dirk would learn he can't push Dave around and if he does, he's messing with the grown man, not the baby he left. Which is lies. Dave wouldn't be able to fight for himself, but he can pretend.
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The silence as a prefix for the talk, it's killer and Dave hates silence, too. It's why he talks so damn much when he gets nervous. At least Dirk has listened to him and it seems like even retained enough of it to give a fuck about his monologue which in itself is a surprise. Dave's eyes have strayed to the box in the strong hand holding it. That's going to be his first indicator if he has to stand up and move away, that juice box is a little easier to take the crushing brunt of any anger too late to quell.
There it is. The both of them are dropping all pretense. It's the accent coming out, the thing they both reserve for their most relaxed of times or the times when they're being the most real for a better set of terms. A Strider and a Strider in the same room is always going to be tense. Dave does get it and he "Yeah..."'s quietly so he's not interrupting but that there's a specific marker for him to tell Dirk he understands. It doesn't make any of this easier, but he's not wrong. Dave has no right to father his father. Technically it's not wrong but specifically it's not right.
The life of Dave feeling tense has drained out of him and poured into his shoulders drooping at the mention of just why Dave got into the medium at all. He didn't really do much of that on his own without Bro. He doesn't like hearing that he had a single purpose and has already worn that purpose through. In a mimic of what Dirk went through, minus the juice box, which Dave picks back up to take a small drink off of after Dirk gets it off his chest, too.
It's clear that Dave is trying his best to work through what he's supposed to say. Something that's going to make everything alright in some weird role reversal that he sort of threw on himself. It's not even Bro's fault. He licked his top lip again, his jaw hanging a little bit as if he's going to say something. There's so many somethings he should say.
However, he's gone with something that he hopes gets the point across. If it weren't for that smile, that damn smile, Dave might not have actually considered this after being scared by Dirk's aggression. Even a small one. But there really was a smile there, something that he can't remember the last time his guardian had done. If ever in his memory's reach. It's almost the same as the man who took him to stand at turn tables the moment he had coordination in his fingers to lift them past flailing.
"Fuck, Bro, don't make it weird. You're gonna make me say I want you around, I'm goin' to say it and then you're gonna make me dance around talkin' 'bout bullshit like your purpose. A purpose is what you make it dude." He stands up for a moment stretching his shoulders back with a few popcracks of joints, drinking a little bit of his juice while he stares at nothing in particular. "Don't make me into a sappy pussy when I'm tryin' to be upset with you. If I didn't want you around I would have told you to get the fuck out when I realized it was you. So..." he looks over his shoulder, shrugging the opposite one. "Stay until you find somewhere. I don't wanna cramp your style with all my six inches."
How about a dick joke to go with the ruler joke, that's a dick entendre joke. Besides if it gets bad, maybe the showdown would do them both good. Dirk would learn he can't push Dave around and if he does, he's messing with the grown man, not the baby he left. Which is lies. Dave wouldn't be able to fight for himself, but he can pretend.