redheadcarrier | [DDD | 055

Who are you going to do something with?

Yukari and I were talking about going out earlier.

Huh. I wouldn't have expected that.

Why not? We can help each other out.

I just never thought of you as having an interest in each other, I suppose.

Why not? We are friends.

Well, it's not as if I can really object to it.

Why would you object to us being-

Oh.

It's not like that!

...I hate this virus.

That makes two of us.

I suppose there are some situations where even we can come together.

I guess so.

I still think we could get along well if only you were more willing.

Maybe we could get along if you weren't a prodding bitch.

...prodding?

Yeah! Always sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong!

I can't just ignore people who need help.

I don't need help!

If you're talking about yourself, then say so instead of making me guess.

I would've thought that would be obvious, moron.

You seem to have a problem with me talking to other people, too. Katsuragi-san, for example.

Misato's gone. Not like it matters anymore.

It's still an example of the way you act.

Blah, blah, blah!

You are truly an expert at debating.

[It had been a quiet day. Awoken earlier than usual to the fainter trill of the alarm. Repeated. (Once again. Almost too reluctant to pull himself from bed.) The slide of empty sheets beside him. And the absence of warmth. And it had been a quieter morning. Unaccustomed to the hour. The softer purr of engines beyond their bedroom window. The distant, distinct rush-roar of the commuter trains. (And it had been early for him. And it was early for him. Knowing there was quite a bit on his agenda for the day. Tasked to pick up groceries. To run a few job errands. To double-check his bank account. To deposit his paycheck. To start to pay the rent. And so on.)

It had been harder to maintain throughout the months, now. Something more pressing. But, what ends were met regardless - and that was enough for him. (Comfortable in this apartment. In this spot in Iwatodai.)

And the day seemed to continue to be quiet even as he returned home. Even as he managed to open the door with a soft thought (harder to repeat, this time - something newer under his own control), arms laden down with what bags of groceries he could carry (or afford).

It would be another moment before he wanders into the kitchen. Another before he manages to close the door behind him with a faint press of his foot. Locking it, if with a little struggle - wondering if Asuka was or is still home.]

Edited 2010-05-10 03:53 (UTC)

_{[Asuka looked up from her computer as she heard the door open and then shut, followed by the soft sound of footfalls. Kaworu was home. For a moment, she simply fidgeted in her seat and tried not to think too hard about him. The way his hair always had the look of being ruffled, how her hands seemed drawn to it. His pale skin that was usually warm and soft under her fingers. How they spent the night so close to one another, but nothing ever happened. About interlocking fingers and soft lips pressing against each other, the way she could finger his hips-

She flushed and tried to shake the thoughts out of her head. She shouldn't be thinking like this. She ought not to be. Even if they had been together for six months, they'd never really talked about sex. It just hadn't come up and now all of a sudden, it was all she could think about. She gripped the edge of her desk for a moment, trying to decide what to do. She couldn't stay in here the rest of the night. She took a deep breath, quite aware that her face was flushed. She stood and poked her head out into the main living area.]}

...Kaworu? Did you finally make it home? Where have you been all day?

_{[A bit of irritation creeps into her voice as she stalks out into the kitchen.]}

I've been sitting here waiting for you, think I'd have to take care of myself-

_{[She stammered. That hadn't come out right.]}

-take care of everything myself!

[He's not missing the way of her flush. The harsher clip of her words. The way that she stammers. Unusual and - and it does not seem to make much sense, beyond the possibility that he may have intruded on something rather private. May have intruded on something she did not wish him to see. Did not wish him to witness. And he's shaking the thought off as he's gingerly balancing the weight on his arms. As he's noting the tension that flickers in the line of her shoulders. The stiffness of her posture. The way that she greets him - and he realizes he had forgotten his phone. Forgotten to leave much of a note to inform her as to where he would go - and he's attempting to pacify with the awkward gesturing of his hands (still filled with bags). The softer way of his voice. Faintly apologetic.]

Ah. Sorry, sorry.

[And he's absently lifting his arms, if slightly, in some way of demonstration. Some gentler way of indication.]

I had happened to go shopping. We had been running rather low on groceries.

I knew that!

_{[She snaps again, arms folding across her chest as she glances away. She can't meet his gaze. It's too embarrassing and makes her think of other things. And that makes her blush even more. She hastily brushes some hair out of her face and tries to think of something else.]}

Look - just give me those!

_{[She tugs one of the bags free from his arms and turns into the kitchen, setting it down on the table with a 'thud'.]}

Next time try not to get so out of touch, alright? I needed y-. Needed to talk to you.

[There is no answer that is quick to come. No conclusion that rises. That rests in the way she holds herself nor the way she cannot look at him. And the flush is just as bright and just as prominent as it had been when he had gotten home. The tone is just as sharp - and there is something like a faint note of confusion that settles into forefront of his thoughts. Usually not this quick to snap. Able to read her a little better, now - and he's letting her yank a bag from his arms. Not quite following her. Not quite yet.

And his forgetfulness must have compounded it. Knowing he had never been quite good with phones since Tokyo-3. Since the stillness of his last apartment. The moments and the minutes he would wait on a command. He would - and he's reeling his thoughts back in, as she's speaking again. As he's carefully toeing off his shoes. (Practiced. Knowing how the laces were too tight in some places. Knowing where he had to step on the heel. Almost loose with repeated weight. Some afterthought. And - It was likely not the last time he would hear it. Something of a poorer habit. Something he had attempted to amend in the past, though - He's catching the way she cuts herself off. Catching the start of the word. Knowing what it must be. What it could be. And he's quiet, for a moment, before speaking. Voice still rounded.]

I will attempt to remember my phone, next time. [And it is a silent note of question that follows it. That lingers, though he's opting not to voice it. For the moment.]

_{[Again, she brushes hair away. She rubs her own cheek as she tries to stop herself thinking how it would feel to have him pressed against her, warm and yielding, his hands in her hair, the quiet pleasure of being so close to another person, almost one-

She shakes it off again with a huff. She can't let it get to her. But... he's her boyfriend. They've lived together for over a year now, six months or more as an actual couple. She's not afraid of that contact, is she? No. Of course not. That would be silly. They've cuddled and kissed and shared quiet moments before - sex is something else though. She flexes her fingers, curls her hands into fists and then tries to relax. She turns back, leaning against the table as she watches him slip his shoes off and step further inside.]}

It's... not just the phone....

_{[If she can't admit this to him, who can she admit it to? She watces him, the way he moves and stands, the way his mouth moves when he talks, his lips. She wonders what it would feel like to have those lips-

OK, stop that.]}

Edited 2010-05-11 01:12 (UTC)

[There is something different in the way she monitors him. The way she looks at him, now. The unusual path and the weight of her gaze, and he's noting where it settles. Where it rests. Perplexed, for a moment. Knowing this was not typical. Usual. Knowing there was something being touched upon. Beyond his knowledge. Something formless and shapeless. Unable to be traced or marked with his fingertips. And part of him wishes to explore what stillness it is that now lies between them. Foreign. Part of him wishes to dig into the corners. To attempt to place it - but he is not pushing it. Not prying into it. Not quite pulling for it. Knowing she will voice it in her own time. Knowing - and he's straightening. Shifting. If only slightly. Too aware of the rustling of bags. The way the blush has failed to fade yet as he glances to her. If discreetly. Curiosity flickering at the edges of his expression.]

_{[They're the only ones who live here now. There's no one to burst in one them or interrupt or overhear. So why is she so afraid of bringing up the subject? Why is she dancing around it? She should be able to be direct - it's how she usually is! She works her jaw for a moment and then looks down again, face hot. She needs to do something or tonight is just going to be Hell, unless she feels like kicking him out onto the sofa for the evening. And that would take some explaining.]}

Ah... Kaworu? What...

_{[She can't be doing this. She shifts uncomfortably, crossing her legs at the ankle as she uses the table to prop herself up. She's excited and nervous and tingly and she sort of just wants to go over and grab him instead of asking him about this. It'd be easier and it wouldn't be quite as awkward in the moment, but she resists that thought.]}

...what do you think about sex?

_{[She covers her face with her hand as if it will hide how mortified she is that she asked that.]}

[Nervousness. And he's reading it easily in the way she moves. The way she shifts. And he's quietly placing the bags down. Not quiet crossing the distance. Not quite moving closer. Not yet. And he can see the way she hesitates. The way she seems to catch herself. The way she stills herself. Seems to think it over. For a moment. Seems to - And there's something else, buried there. Beneath the fluttering notes of tension, but he cannot seem to place it. Cannot seem to lay a finger on it. To determine the source nor the origin. Something that he has not encountered. Something -

It does not entirely register, at first. Does not entirely sink in, until he sees the way she hides her expression from him. The way she seems to shrink back. An attempt to shield herself from what she's said- and he's quiet, for a long moment. The flush clicking into place. The notes of aggravation. The kind of tension that had lingered and still lingers along the lines of her body, and he's not entirely certain if that is what she means. If it is what she means. Something specific or something general - and he's letting a hand come up to rest against the curve of his throat. Unable to smother some indication of surprise. Unable to completely subdue it. Unable to -

It was not a question he had expected. It was not something he had thought about. It is not something he tended to think on - not often. Not unless provoked. Not unless another had queried him, in the past. Something he had taken as a gesture. As a function. Something necessary and yet wanted and - he is quieter than he intended, when he speaks. Awkwardness and something more peculiar settling, flickering, behind his ribs. Seeping down, deeper, into his bones.]

... What is it you happen to mean?

_{[Asuka's face burned even more, if that was possible. How could he not know what meant? Sometimes she forgot that he wasn't entirely human. Hadn't been. She half-growled, fidgeting as she straightened up. She tugged on the hem of her shirt uncomfortably, toying with it for a moment before she forced her hands into fists at her sides as she tried to find the right words. This was so aggravating. Why did he need clarification? It wasn't as if she'd danced around the subject like other people would have! Why couldn't he just understand?

Irritation flickered across her features and she finally let out a long sigh.]}

I mean sex, you moron. You know....

_{[She trailed off hopefully before pushing on. He probably didn't. She rubbed a hand over her face.]}

Like. Us.

_{[OK, if he didn't get that, she was going murder him.]}

[He had not been incorrect, then.

And it is that realization that stills him. For an instant. He had not been entirely unaware of this aspect. This particular point of relationships. Something he had read in books. Had witnessed in common media. Had seen in the way that others had interacted. In Iwatodai. On the community. The need to be closer. To want to be closer. The ideal of becoming, for some instant - and it something biological. Taught, if briefly. A scientific understanding. He knew what it was. He knew how it operated, in some senses. The natural purpose, but - in this there lies a difference. A desire. A kind of want. An expression. A method of communication. Something that could say something that neither could not. Something that could say something that either could.

And this was something new. Again, something he had not stumbled into. Had not truly contemplated. Had thought over. Something - He had been content to be by her. Simply enough. Had grown to enjoy the kind of affection she had granted him. That he had granted her. Had grown not to still so entirely beneath the imploring reach of her hand or the occasional kiss. The kind of closeness, no longer so odd. Something not entirely new. Not something entirely peculiar. And he had grown used to shift in their proximity. Comfortable. Accustomed to. And for a long moment, there is no particular protest that rises to it. There is nothing that reaches a kind of rejection. And he's rubbing the back of his neck with the tips of his fingers. Watching the way she continues to blush. The way she needs to fidget.

And he is not missing the way she balls her hands into fists. The rising tension and aggravation. And he's searching for a manner in which to word his answer. Elusive, for a moment.

There was no manner in which he could truly rearrange the question. No longer needing to seek a sort of clarification. No longer needing it. And part of him is aware of why it is she asks this question, though the other remains - ]

... It is not something I am particularly opposed to.

[Uncertain.]

_{[Asuka threw up her hands in exasperation. She sometimes despaired of getting a straight answer out of the boy.]}

What is that supposed to mean? I am so frustrated right now! YOu have no idea what I've been having to think about all day! Justt getting my mind off of you has been impossible and I am so frustrated!

_{[She clapped a hand over her mouth and then let it fall to her side again, cheeks still red and flushed. She rubbed her temple for a moment, trying to figure out what to say next.]}

I... don't you ever think about it? At all?

_{[Because she has, even if not at quite the same volume as today.]}

[He isn't thinking. Not thinking. Before he's quirking his lips up slightly. Waving his free hand absently. Partially to pacify. Partially to settle. And it is her admittance that loops back. For a moment. The idea that she could not clear her thoughts of him. Could not rid her thoughts of him. A faint sort of surprise to know - and though he cannot clearly formulate an idea of what thoughts she had possessed, the subject is obvious. Is notable.

And he's slowly lowering his hand from his neck. Uncertain, for a moment, as to what to do with it before he's slipping it into his pocket. The weight familiar. Usual. Almost -]

It, ah - [And he's pausing. Voice still a tad quieter than he had intended - though he's clearing it, after a moment. Aware of her aggravation. Aware of how much it must take for her to even mention this. To question this. Knowing - And he's shifting his weight. Again. If absently.] It is not something I tend to think on.

Edited 2010-05-11 15:00 (UTC)

How can you just... not think about it? Ever?

_{[On the upshot, it probably meant he was effected by the virus. On the downside, it also gave her a needling little reminder of just how far from human Kaworu really was. She groaned dramatically and put a hand over her eyes.]}

You don't-

All I've been thinking about today is you! I can't get these... thoughts... out of my head!

_{[She dropped her hand and stared at him, fidgeting uncomfortably for a moment as she tried very hard not to think about certain things and failed.]}

[Such things were normal. Usual. He had learned enough about it. Had considered the subject when brought to his attention. Had realized the symptoms and the behavior associated behind attraction. Desire. However - he's glancing a little beyond the curve of her shoulder. Noting the way she keeps to fidgeting. Noting the weight of her stare. Noting the difference. Observing it. And there something foreign, there. The name placed, but - And he's shifting. If only slightly. Words like ashes. And they almost taste brittle on the tip of his tongue, though each sentence he comes to seems insufficient. Inadequate. Unable to - ]

It is not to - [And they're bubbling up. Almost before he is realizing it. Almost before he is able to silence them. And he's only absently flexing his fingers against the back of his neck. Only glancing back to her, after a moment.] It is merely a concept I had not happened to be able to think on, often.

_{[Asuka stared at Kaworu, flabbergasted. Her gaze slid over his face, his lips down his neck to his collar-bone- She couldn't comprehend how it was just a concept to him. Society was steeped in it. It showed up almost everywhere. How could it just remain a concept? It sounded so academic and cold and foreign. It was an expression of something. Before she really realized what she was doing, carried along by a mixture of shock, anger, frustration and incredulity, she stalked over to him.]}

A concept? A concept? It's more than that! How can you say something so... so... stupid?

_{[She jabbed a palm into his chest, anger and frustration flaring as she shoved him.]}

It's not just a concept! It's about... love and passion and being with someone you really care about! It's not just a stupid concept! What's wrong with you?

[And he's unable to voice what answer he had possessed. Unable to clearly formulate it as he realizes the effect of his own. Knowing it is more than merely that. Knowing it had been more than merely that. And he's not resisting the aggression as she shoves him back. What honesty he had placed in that particular answer - and he's catching himself against the door. Unflinching. Knowing this action, before. Remembering months and months back. Remembering the night she had come into his dorm. Had raised her hand to him. Remembering - and he's subconsciously pressing his back against the door. Not shrinking back nor moving forward. Expression void. Neutral. And he's only listening to her. Almost feeling the notes of her aggravation. The heat of frustration. The smaller sparks of incredulity.

He's quiet. For the moment. Still feeling the absent pressure of her hand. The slow mutter of some discomfort along his shoulder. His back. A little too slow to shield himself. Before he's murmuring, if almost too quietly.]

I am not entirely unaware of the implications, Asuka.

_{[She stares at him for a moment, hand splayed out over his chest. She can feel the warmth of his body through his shirt, the soft beating of his heart, the soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. It's all there. She's frustrated because she cannot get these thoughts out of her head. She's frustrated because Kaworu doesn't seem to understand. She's angry at herself for having to have this talk in the first place. He just looks at her with that same neutral expression. Unbidden, she wonders if his expression would change if she-

She tries to shake it off, still glaring, hand pressed against him.]}

Then how ca you treat it like it's... just... unimportant?

[There is no manner in which he might word this. Something elusive and intangible. Something he had understood in what manners he could. Something he had never particularly thought on. Something - and it settles uncomfortably at the bottom of his stomach. Knotted up and tangled there. Unable to be followed or unwoven. Knowing to accept the fact he had never been permitted room to worry nor wonder about this mode of expression - knowing he had never come to think he would experience any particular closeness to begin with - and his expression is shifting into something less distant. More unreadable. Not wincing away from her glare. Not breaking eye contact. Just feeling the steady weight of her hand. The way it follows his breath. Wondering if she could feel the fainter rhythm of his heart. Knowing to have expressed this much - to have revealed this much - she had made herself vulnerable. Something she hates. Had hated. Had always hated. And he knows how much this takes her, to await some kind of answer. And he's flexing his fingers against the door.

He knows this gesture is important. He knows - and it's taking him a moment, before he's (almost tentatively) lifts a hand. Lets it linger.]

_{[Asuka shoves herself away from him and turns on her heel, stalking back to her (their) room. She's still frustrated and now she's angry. She doesn't want to deal with his strange intractability right now, his inability to answer questions.]}

Why can't you just give me a straight answer for once?

_{[There's a resounding 'crash' as she slams the door shut behind her.]}

[DDD | 055 | Text]

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/shot

XD

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Let's see how long I can draw this out.

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She finally catches on. Spam.

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OK, done.

hehe

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You owe me a new keyboard.

PS/2 or USB?

USB, preferably.

excellent. one Unresolved Sexual Bafflement keyboard, coming up

Why thank you.

No problem.

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[action spam!]

[action spam!]

[\o/]

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... sob. this boy.

Re: ... sob. this boy.

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