So Many Striders - Now With Illustrations!

Dirk reads Hal's newest text and laughs. He had been so flustered he hadn't even stopped to think. If Hal had just come out and said 'I love you bro, no-romo' Dirk probably would have been uncomfortable and upset, but after that scare he realizes he's kind of cool with it. "Yeah, whatever man, just try to contain your platonic homo bro-lust for me while we're working. Hands off; you gotta ask the cutie before you touch the booty. Or wrist, as the case my be."

 

Yes. Hal made Dirk laugh, and he lifts his head to look over at him, grinning pretty damn wide himself. He also realises, with a sudden and exhilarating rush, that he doesn't feel so tense about Dirk's methods of working on the phone any more. Sure, they may not be optimal and have a higher risk of breaking the components while working on them, but - although he isn't planning on admitting this out loud or in text - his own plans did have a good chance of wearing it out sooner. He nods, dips his chin to look at his phone, then pauses, opening his mouth experimentally. He gets as far as "Ye-" before stopping suddenly, and pulls a frustrated face, looking back at the phone. Not ready yet, then. [Yeah man, I promise to ask permission before touching any part of you that might be considered a receptacle for platonic homo bro-lust, which is to say everything.]

 

The phone twitters and Hal makes Dirk smirk. The more he's around other people the more he's realizing that he doesn't actually have the stone cold poker face he thought he did. Growing up completely isolated without any social interaction during which to practice the whole 'no-face' thing has, apparently, not been conducive to controlling mostly involuntary facial twitches.

But then, considering how the other him with the perfect stoic mask turned out maybe that's a good thing? He let's himself smile a little bit more because fuck that guy. Then he frowns because Hal had tried to speak and couldn't. He really needs to stop being such a dick about this project and get it done as soon as possible.

"Aw man. That's gotta be annoying. I'm... gonna try really hard not to let my personal issues with having your hands on my rockin' bod keep us from finishing this as soon and as well as possible." They were about to take a break, but fuck breaks this ride has no breaks full throttle ahead. Buuut that's what got them into a fight in the first place. Hm.

"You cool to keep going for a while? I'm feeling ready to get this shit done but it's up to you bro you're the impetus behind this monstrous zombie phone. You're Dr. Frankenstein dude and I'm your, what, Igor? That makes me Igor. Fuck. I'm not quite gay enough to have the lisp, I looked at a boob once and went 'hmm'." He stretches. "If I keep crouching over this table I will have a hunchback though. Anyway, you ready to keep going or do we need snacks and a stretch break?"

 

It is pretty damn annoying to open your mouth and not have anything come out, although at least it's more of a physical block in his throat, caused by stress and anxiety and what have you, rather than not being able to think of words at all and just having a blank space in your head. That quite literally sounds like a nightmare to Hal, but is also a huge tangent to anything Dirk's saying out loud and is therefore not worth texting him about in the slightest. Instead, he snorts with laughter, shaking his head at the literary reference.

The generic Strider pokerface is something he can do, of course, kind of, if it's dark, and people aren't really paying attention to what he's doing with his face. Dammit, he didn't have a face for over three years, okay, and redeveloping a poker face you weren't even that great at as a thirteen-year-old isn't exactly the easiest of things. That, and he goes through violent swings of really wanting the ability to hide his feelings and anger at himself for thinking his feelings need hiding. He's got a meat sack now, and he is allowed to feel things.

[Yeah, I'm feeling a fuck load less tense about this whole thing all of the sudden, so I'm cool with continuing. And I'd offer to rub your back to help prevent hunchback development but we literally just had a conversation about me not giving you the bad touch, so I won't. I'll get some more work done on the casing while you get back to what you were doing on its roboinnards?]

 

Dirk feels a shiver go down his spine at the thought of a back rub. He's been using heating pads and ineffectively prodding at his own shoulders but it's not the same. The memory of Roxy using her sharp little fingers to just dig in and destroy his muscles hits him like a truck and somehow makes his back hurt even more. Everything was so good when they first got into the game, before he'd fucked everything up forever.

Still though... Hal wasn't actually offering. It was a joke. Maybe. "As long as I'm not doing anything delicate I wouldn't exactly hate a back rub." Dirk realizes how ridiculous he sounds and snorts. "I-I mean, it's not like I WANT you to, b-baka."

 

Hal snorts, the sound developing pretty quickly into the Full Laugh at Dirk's tsundere-mode. It's over pretty quick, but he's smiling widely at the end of it. "Don't worry kouhai, I won't do anything you don't want me to."

Oh, hey, his voice is back. That's awesome. His smile widens.

 

Dirk tips his glasses down and flutters his eyelashes extravagantly. "Oh senpai you take such good care of me. I've changed my mind." He's barely holding back giggles, maybe the relief of having a fight over with and not worrying so much about Hal being scared of him is doing something to his brain. "Touch me in my no-no place with ur no-no thing." He manages to actually say 'ur' out loud. He's very proud.

 

Hal leans against the work bench, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth to hold in his own laughter. It's not very effective. He manages to choke it back at last, opens his mouth, then doubles over with laughter, hand tight on his own knee as he wheezes, actual tears forming in his eyes. "No-no thing."

 

Dirk snickers for a long minute, more laughing with Hal than at his own awful joke.

He takes a deep, slightly wheezing breath. "Okay, okay. No more fun allowed. Let's do this shit." They both take a minute to calm down in front of their respective bits of the project. Dirk feels almost a bit high, and he focuses on his breathing to make sure he's not going to be shaky or reckless. Then he carefully works himself into the zone, and nothing else exists. The room is quiet, with Hal sometimes taking a finished component and checking it against what he's working on or the various schematics taped to the wall. They cooperate extraordinary well, hardly needing to speak now that they'd gotten past their initial anxieties about each other for a little while.

Suddenly, and it does feel extremely sudden, there isn't anything more to work on. The phone's screen, and really it's more a palm computer than a phone at this point, has been special ordered and hasn't arrived yet. There is some assembly that still needs to happen, but it would be easier to just do that all at once. Dirk stretches and his back sounds like firecrackers.

The clock says something like 9 hours have gone by, Jesus. Dirk doesn't feel even a little bit tired though. "You hungry? I was thinkna ordering food and watching a thing." Okay, maybe his brain is a little tired, but he's not feeling it quite yet.

 

This is what Hal had missed about working with Dirk. Not the arguing about methods or blueprints, not the bitching or the insults, and not really even the dumb jokes, hilarious as they are. But that moment when everything just... clicks into place perfectly; what Hal is doing, what Dirk is doing, and the steady progression of the thing they're making together, it's reminding him of the times when he was happiest as a pair of sentient shades, and he feels so peaceful and content.

However, all good things come to an end, and this end comes with Dirk's back sounding like a New Year's fireworks display. Hearing all that popping drags Hal out of the calm, productive state, although it's only with some reluctance that he acknowledges this is probably a good time to stop. The rest of the assembly does rather hinge on getting the screen right, as it's all connected. He sits up straight with a muffled groan, shoulders, spine, and arms sharply reminding him how long he's been sitting in the exact same position. Hal rubs one of the grooves dug into his forearm by the edge of the work bench, and nods. "That sounds good. God, I didn't realise how hungry I was until you said." He looks down at the almost complete phone. "We managed to work together pretty well after all, huh?"

 

"Yeah, I guess. -Ow." He stands and abruptly realizes that the stool has been digging into the back of his thigh and he's lost feeling in part of leg and the left cheek of his ass. "We might need a babysitter to make sure we take juice and nap breaks." He digs his fingers dig into his temples. "I'm all woozy and shit. Sugar is the answer."

The internet is a beautiful thing. He pulls up the food delivery app on his phone and starts scrolling through their options. "You want American or Chinese?"

 

Hal leans back slightly on his stool and stretches his arms up above his head, popping and clicking as he does. He should probably have done that more while working, but he was in the zone, man. He's not even going to try standing yet, because he's half certain his legs would fold underneath him. "You think we could convince Roxy or Dave prime to come over every so often and make sure we've not died of dehydration? Ooh, or Karkat, he'd bitch about it being kinky but I'm like 90% sure he'd be into it."

He drops his arms, lacing his fingers behind his neck and stretching his shoulders out that way instead. More popping ensues. "American? I'm all for being multi-cultural, but too much flavour can be overwhelming, you know?"

 

Dirk tap-taps for a while; pulling up the menu, choosing the greasiest hamburger he can find, requesting it grilled rare, and then passes the phone to Hal. He is barely processing noises right now, but he does entertain the idea of Karkat's mighty pimppap hand forcing them to stay hydrated. It's pretty funny.

He doesn't think that Hal has done the self-destructive work until you drop bullshit in his current body before, so advice seems to be in order. "I'm gonna use the rest of this borrowed energy to hygiene and set up the TV. Order a food and try not to crash before it gets here or you'll wake up feeling seriously shitty." Feeling has mostly come back to his leg so he totters over to Hal and waits to get his phone back.

 

"You're claiming first dibs on the toilet then, huh?" Hal takes the phone, tapping at it until there's an order for a margarita pizza along with Dirk's burger. He was serious about the flavour thing, but hot and greasy sounds just about perfect right now, and he figures that's his meat bag telling him what it needs most. He adds a side of breadsticks, mostly because he's of the personal opinion that Dirk should probably eat more than he normally does, and hands the phone back over. "All done."

 

Dirk snags the phone and sends the order through. His face feels nasty so he goes to wash up really quick before giving up the bathroom and sees himself in the mirror. He looks two days dead and in desperate need of a shower. If he showers now though he'll likely pass out and besides, he has to share the bathroom. Ugh. They need two bathrooms. When it was a whole huge gaggle of people staying temporarily he'd been able to deal, but mostly because they'd known it wasn't forever.

He shuffles over to the couch and collapses, still too wired to sleep but not really up for more than sitting relatively still and nursing his head-and-neck-ache.

 

While Dirk's in the bathroom, Hal stretches out his legs, an action which is both rather impressively painful and also wonderful as the stiffness eases (somewhat.) He gets carefully to his feet, hand clamped onto the edge of the work bench to assist in levering him up, and staggers to the bathroom. After emptying what needs emptying, Hal washes his hands, dries them, then washes his face and neck. He can feel his energy flagging, but the cold water helps to perk him up somewhat. He uses a towel to give himself a quick pat down, then walks over to fall onto the couch next to Dirk, flopping his head back and groaning exaggeratedly. "How did you do this to yourself so often, it sucks so much."

 

"You build endurance, and get used to having a semi-permanent muscle tension headache that ends up feeling normal. Also caffeine. Addiction is a powerful thing." He fusses with the TV, pulling up various shows and movies they could watch. "You know, now that I think about it, maybe you shouldn't develop all my bad habits. I'm not pushing the moving out thing again but you have this grand opportunity to be fucked up in new and exciting ways."

 

"Aren't I already fucked up in new and exciting ways?" Hal gestures to himself. The mention of a semi-permanent muscle tension headache makes him frown, though, and he slouches down on the couch so he can rest his head more comfortably against the back cushion, turning to look at Dirk. "If my poor, sweet kouhai has a tension headache, I'd be willing to use my magic fingers to fix that." He waits a beat.

"Of course, I'm joking, there's nothing magic about them except for how they were made. Headaches do really suck though, so I would actually be willing to help you try and get rid of it if you wanna."

 

"Oh. Um, sure. It's not a big deal, I wasn't fishing for an offer or anything. But if you want." He's too tired and sore to be cool and aloof about this. He turns his back to Hal and reaches over his shoulder to point out the places that hurt. "The muscles currently in rebellion are here," he runs his fingers along the top of his shoulder, "and here, between my shoulder blades where I can't fucking reach ever. Also my neck. But you don't have to, I can just take some medicine."

 

Hal was so very much not expecting Dirk to accept the offer, but now that the opportunity is there to get all hands-on (wait, what? Ignoring that,) he's hardly going to back down. He pulls a leg up onto the couch, although bending it so soon after sitting on the stool for so long isn't doing his knee any favours, and turns to face Dirk's back, lifting his hands to hover near Dirk's shoulders. "So, just to be absolutely, positively clear, here, I have your permission to touch your back, shoulders, and neck?" He's joking, mostly.