Work Text:
You want to slap Eridan in his whole fucking face. There's no one quite like him. The Aquarius pushes all of his buttons down, and yeah, you know life would suck without him. But he's an asshole. And he makes you so mad, you can't help but ask yourself why you're still here, or where you can go. You hate him. You really, really hate him.
So fucking much.
It must be true love.
Your name is Sollux Captor and you are a wretched, abject, miserable piece of shit. You're depressed, and psychotic, and you forget to eat. You look like a twig. You don't sleep, you stare at walls, you're terrible at social cues, a total social shut-in. Nobody really likes you. Probably because nobody really talks to you.
Except him.
Fuck him.
The computer lab is bitter. Tangy. Sour.
"Are my eyes seein' right, or are you actually wallowin' in the same area as me?"
You knew he was going to say something. You were surprised he didn't quip as soon as you'd entered the block. You keep to yourself.
"I can securely divulge that I'm not wallowing," you reply, evenly. "To each their own. I'm working."
"Get over yourself, everyone knows that tappin' around on keyboards ain't qualifiable as actual work," he sneers. That sneer. You hate that fucking sneer. "All those excessive zeroes and ones do nothin' but take up space. It's truly embarrassin' watchin' you."
"Poke fun at me when you do something useful around here. As captivating as your raillery is, I'm working."
"On what?"
"Wouldn't you like to know—"
"Lemme see."
"No, fuck you."
"Come on."
You inhale, sharply. "Math. As per usual. The technobabble bullshit. You can see from there."
Eridan approaches and leans over your shoulder. It's very intrusive. Your body stiffens, and you frown hard.
"Math, is that so? Looks like a buncha incomprehensible gurglin' to me."
"I'm going to punch you in the nose if you don't get out of my personal space." He coughs right in your ear. How long have you been talking? You're going to lose your mind.
"I'm not even near you, talk about bein' a fuckin' drama machine—"
"Could you not do that in my ear."
"I have a cold," he replies, seemingly pleased with himself. He doesn't even have the shame to look sorry for himself, the fucking disaster, the disgusting fucking disaster.
"Unfortunate," you cut in. "Back up, then."
"Your puny egg yolk system ain't nothin' comparable to me, so you'll probably not catch it, 'less your blood's as kickass as mine." And with that, he sneezes, wiping his face on his own shoulder.
"Weird, since I'm not sure that's how it works. Either way, I don't want you snivelling in my face. You have one last chance to get away from me before I actually lay my hands on you."
"Uh," Eridan sniffs, loudly. "I can appreciate the effort you're puttin' into humorin' my perpetual illness, but pitch scolderin' ain't gonna help me any when I'm actively curlin' onto the cullin' block."
"I'm not humoring you, I'm about to lose my shit if you sniffle near me one more time." And with this, you scoot far away from him. Well, as far as you can in your limited amount of space, that is. "Go do something about your developing disease. Make some soup. Sleep. Get away from me."
"I think I'd jam myself with an oxidizin' eatin' utensil before I wasted my grist alchemizin' soup. Plus," he manages before coughing, way more dramatically into his elbow than he should. "I don't got much time left anyhow."
You scowl, trying to manage a few more inches away from Eridan. "How about you spend your last moments somewhere else."
He rolls his eyes. "That should've been cue for you to assist in betterin' your superior like you were hatched for. Sheesh. Get with the program, sleezeblood."
"You're not even trying to help yourself. Go rest."
He seems genuinely annoyed. It fills you with thrill. "Fine, fuck it, what do I care." There's a long pause. Silence. "Do you wanna come?"
"Do I want to come rest with you," you asked, slowly.
"Yeah."
"Give me one reason as to why I should do that."
"Beats calculatin' shit that don't matter," he replies, promptly. "And I can be the big spoon."
You feel your eyes go out of focus, and your vision goes blurry for a moment.
"You'll get me sick," you reply, since your only other real option is to hurl yourself into space and die.
"I won't."
That's all you really needed.