So Many Striders - Now With Illustrations!

Whoops. Hal lowers the pot, licking his lips, and pats Dirk on the back. "You were doing some fairly focused exercise though, bro. You have to eat something or your body will cannibalise your muscles for food. You're not exactly fatty, after all."

 

"I dunno, it sounds kind of metal when you put it like that. Losing muscle tone wouldn't be good though. Farewell, dreams of being a trophy husband." Patting is nice, Dirk leans into the pats.

 

He continues to pat Dirk through the blanket, with the occasional rub thrown in just because he can. "Biology is kind of metal, it just depends on the phrasing. And, yeah, you gotta eat the pizza so you can keep being trophy husband material. It's essential." He briefly considers throwing in a comment about having to work harder at becoming someone important, if Dirk wants to be a trophy husband, but that's maybe a joke to make after he's sure the make outs did actually mean what he's hoping they meant rather than just being an adrenaline-fuelled smooch session.

 

This experience has at least given Dirk a tiny inkling of what it has been like for the various sprites in their recovery post-game. None of them are good at accepting help, or depending on people, but Dirk has never really been on the other end of that situation before. At least, not while also having someone around to do the actual care taking for him.

"Does all of this feel weird to you? I mean, we used to take care of ourself, by ourself, whenever we had a fishing accident or got hypothermia or a drone got a lucky hit. Taking care of people is always a role I anticipated taking on, and stupidly charged into without any real experience, but being on the other end of all of this... I don't know how to feel about it. Just outright saying I hate it would be kind of a dick move, you've spent your whole day waiting on me. I just don't know."

Dirk pulls the blankets around himself tightly. "Do you and the sprites... hate this?"

 

"I..." Hal hesitates a moment before replying, drawing back his hand. He's at least 40% sure Dirk means he hates having to be in a situation where he requires help, but that's not very sure, and the other 60% is convinced Dirk hates having Hal (or anyone, but particularly Hal) helping him. He takes his hand away from Dirk's back, rolling the noodle pot back and forth between his palms, looking into it like it contains the secrets of the universe.

"I can't speak for the sprites as I'm not them, but I have, I suppose, enjoyed the fact that you wanted to help me out. When I got this body first, and up until recently, I'd been assuming you thought the same things of me as you did when you... put me in the sprite. So knowing your views of me were positive enough to want to help me for my sake made me happy."

 

Dirk winces at the mention of how he treated Hal before and during the game. "I dunno if switching from abusive asshole to barely decent human being is a good reason to celebrate. But then, I guess I and other versions of me have set the bar incredibly low when it comes to caretaking, so even my current fumbling attempts might seem good I suppose."

The patting has stopped, Dirk probably deserves that for being a dick. "It's good that you do not hate being helped by me, means I'm fucking up less. You've, um, done really well at this whole... thing. I will attempt to stop being so illogical about it." Wow, why is giving Hal a complement so fucking awkward? That couldn't have been more stilted if it were on actual stilts.

 

"I dunno if a barely decent human being would be willing to sit there and rub out the stiffness in my back as often and without complaint as you do. Hell, fully decent human beings complain about things like... having to walk their pets, say. Not. Not that I'm referring to myself as your pet, it was the first example that came to mind that involved exercise being done and time being spent on someone not themselves and, you know, I'm going to shut up now." Hal pushes his hand flat up his face to cover his eyes, peeking out once at Dirk between his fingers before squeezing his eyes shut. He parks the bottom of the noodle pot against his leg, running his thumb repeatedly up and down on its side.

 

"Pft. I know you're not my pet Hal, and even if you were I highly doubt you'd submit to walks. Like one of those cats that get furious and sulky when taken out. Anyway. I'm not going to begrudge you necessary preventative medical care, wow, that'd be a dick move. I guess this is just another way that I'm an asshole, sorry for making it sound like I hate being taken care of. You are doing it well and I have zero complaints."

Dirk bites his lip. "I made you uncomfortable, with a question that, upon reflection, both insinuated I was unhappy and forced you into a corner where there were only uncomfortable answers. I apologize."

 

"Okay, but you're one of those cats too, I'm just saying." He drags his hand off his face again, and slides it into Dirk's hair instead, stroking it. "And you're not an- okay, you are an asshole, I can't really deny that, but not being a hundred percent clear every time you speak doesn't make you one. I'm glad I haven't fucked up horrifically in my attempts at nursing you, although I'm sure there's always room for improvement." A nurse costume, for example.

Hal shrugs his shoulders. "It's okay. You weren't thinking about me when you asked it."

 

Dirk closes his eyes, not unlike a cat, when Hal runs his fingers through his unstyled hair. That wasn't what he meant though, speaking of being unclear, and Dirk starts to try and work out how to explain that apparently only assholes hate being cared for well, meaning that he's both A) a jerk and B) often bad at taking care of people. Because it follows, right, that non-assholes who hate being cared for by him only do so because he's doing it poorly.

That train of thought gets derailed when Hal adds yet another thing to the Reasons Dirk Is Shitty pile. He cringes again, and his voice comes out sounding lifeless and dull. "Right, that's. Yeah. Also a thing I did. Sorry." The blankets are not doing a good job of keeping him warm. He discovers all over again that worthlessness has a physical sensation; cold and heavy with a side of nausea.

 

Dirk's logic is bad and he shouldn't feel bad. Not for this particular thing, anyway. Hal keeps stroking through Dirk's hair, though, unfortunately unaware of that particular negative direction Dirk's thoughts are headed in.

His hand freezes in place when Dirk cringes, as his first thought is that he's hurt him somehow, and apparently he has but through his words rather than his actions. He frees his hand from Dirk's hair then leans over, wrapping his arms around as much of Dirk as he can. "Hey, no, shh, I didn't mean it that way." He rests his forehead against Dirk's shoulder, closing his eyes. Come on bro, work with me here. "I meant like, you weren't thinking how it'd be rude for me to be all 'oh yeah Dirk, I super hate it when you massage the stiffness out of my body, that sucks.' You were thinking of, y'know, this particular situation we're in, and how it's making you feel, and I got that and it's okay."

 

Dirk can't quite stop feeling bad once he's started, so his voice doesn't change, but he does try to continue the conversation instead of just going to sleep like he'd like.

"I don't think it would be rude. I did ask. No point to asking a question and discouraging honest answers. And I was asking about stuff in general. But I get it. It's just... another thing I need to do better." Or stop doing all together. Dirk idly wonders if the sprites would be up to taking over physical therapy stuff for each other, and if Hal could be convinced to give living with Roxy a try. Then no one would have to depend on him for anything, and he wouldn't be an ass who resents others taking care of him because no one would do it, and maybe he could stop feeling so bad all the time.

Dirk is learning though. Saying all that out loud would upset Hal, and he's thinking about that, which seems to be a step in some kind of a direction.

 

"No, hey, I mean I stand by my answer, I don't hate having you around and helping and shit. I might... get resentful, perhaps, if someone I disliked or didn't know as well was helping me, but with you it's okay. You don't need to do better at it, you're already good, I swear." Hal continues to hug Dirk determinedly. He would not be up for living with Roxy and he does depend on Dirk, but Hal prefers to think of it as him being helpful around Dirk's apartment, because he can share the chores and so on. If he thinks of himself living with Dirk as him depending on Dirk, he might go so far as to try to move out on his own, so he isn't a bother to anyone. Which is a thing he's not going to say aloud either, because it would upset Dirk.

 

"I think this conversation got snarled somewhere. I am failing to communicate well, or consider if I should in the first place. Let's blame the head injury." Dirk is too tired and sad to try and make himself clearer, but he does enjoy being held, so he disentangles one of his hands from the blankets and rests it on Hal's arm.

"I don't think people are supposed to have this many feelings all on the same day. Gotta ration this shit." There, haha, see, it's funny, and he's just being irrational due to a concussion anyway. Nothing to worry about.

 

"Hey, it might always have been my fault, but I'm not going to pass up on blaming something else." Hal squirms around until he's more level with Dirk than hunched over him, lying on his side with arms still reaching out to envelop Dirk. Much better, and less lung-squashy.

As he's down there anyway, he presses a kiss to Dirk's head. "Okay, no more negative feelings, by order of law."

 

Oh. Kissing. They're going to have to talk about the kissing at some point, aren't they. His mind shies away from even considering it, or thinking about what they did earlier. For having done nothing most of the day Dirk feels amazingly anxious and stressed. It's stupid that he can't just handle things like he used to. He remembers seeming cool, calm, and in control at all times, and abruptly remembers that was due, in large part, to Hal handling the details of all of his plans for him. And creating a lot of the plans himself. Not even newly created laws can prevent this particular welling up of worthlessness from happening, so Dirk just leans forward into the warm and tries not to be too obviously miserable.

 

They're definitely going to have to talk about the kissing at some point. Hal isn't planning on bringing it up until after Dirk's slept, though, because anxious and concussed is not a good way for Dirk to go into that conversation if they want to come out with any positive result. And while he is not expecting it, Hal is hoping for the most positive result; that is, for Dirk to now be interested in dating him. He'd said, before, that he would be alright with just being friends who make out, and he meant it too, but it is nothing like what he would prefer. For now, though, he keeps his arms around Dirk, and pretends not to notice how the front of his clothes are getting damp.

When the timer goes off for the pizza, Hal grunts in annoyance, but he kisses Dirk's head again and gives him a squeeze before starting to lean back. "I'll be back soon, with your food. We can cuddle more while you eat if you like."

 

It's completely ridiculous. It's not like this stuff hasn't bothered him before, but apparently put him in proximity to a warm body with ears and Dirk just gushes feelings and stupidity all over them. A lot of these problems have solutions, and none of the solutions involve crying about them.

Hal leaves, and Dirk feels bereft. He also feels negative amounts of hungry. It wasn't like this before getting close to Hal, he very much did not vomit his feels all over Jake, and even Roxy saw very little of this nonsense. Never Dave, any of the Daves. He hates it, and he hates Hal a little bit for somehow making it seem okay for his brain to do this to him. It's bullshit, why can't everything just stay bottled up inside indefinitely, or better yet, just stop existing.

But yes. Problem solving. Hal is coming with pizza, he should be ready. With the care he usually reserves for working on Sawtooth and Squarewave, Dirk sits up and tries not to bring on his ever looming headache. He arranged his pillows and blankets, and scrubs his face hard with a tissue from the bedside table. It's fine. He can eat, and then go to sleep, and everything will go back to being fine when he wakes up.

 

In the kitchen, unaware that Dirk is blaming him for emotional vomit, Hal removes the pizza from the oven and cuts it into eighths, transferring them to a plastic plate. Last time they discussed food, Dirk said he wasn't hungry, and Hal imagines he'll have better luck getting Dirk to eat small slices than large ones. Pizza on plate and noodle pot in the trash, Hal returns to Dirk's bedroom, bearing through the pizza. He sets it down on the bedside table, then crawls onto the bed, reaching over to pick up the plate and bring it close, wrapping an arm around Dirk. "Alright, remember: you have to eat the pizza to become a trophy husband. It's essential."

 

He's pathetically glad when Hal comes back; staying awake without distractions has become outright painful. Dirk methodically eats five entire pizza slices without tasting them, an impressive number he thinks, and slumps against the pillows and Hal's side. His fingers curl into Hal's shirt, grasping it lightly, and he bows his head onto Hal's shoulder. "Hal... please let me sleep." This is the first thing he's said since his voice went all dead and toneless, but the choked up emotional warble is about 50 times worse.