[ Squalo's honestly sturdier than most people, though there's certainly limits to it. He's also got a penchant for dramatics, though. ]
[ There's another, shorter bout of ugly snortlaughing at that response, though. Of fucking course. ]
Well, fuck you.
[ It's almost a little bit affectionate. Likewise, for a tiny little moment, Squalo felt like he was back home and everything was fine. That alone was worth whatever ill consequences could possibly come from this. ]
[ Rather than bothering to properly get up, he braces against the back of the couch and aims a nasty kick at one of Dodger's knees, no doubt wanting to bring him down to his level. Literally speaking. ]
[It's the sort of hit that's easy to dodge, but Dodger chooses not to budge. He lets it hit and yelps as he stumbles forward, sort of forcing his fall to "accidentally" land on the couch, straddling Squalo's lap.
There's a flair of temptation, a moment where he wonders how much he could take before Squalo pushed him off.
And then his shoulders relax, and he laughs quietly before rolling off of him.]
Here, it'd be a shame if I crushed your twig legs.
[ Squalo is also quiet for the briefest moment as he looks up at Dodger, though there's nothing really telling in his expression, maybe just a bit of a held breath for a second. Part of him wants to just pull him the rest of the way down, fuck the consequences. Bite, touch, finally feel something after weeks of draught. ]
[ But he can't do that. He can't do exactly the same thing Xanxus hates him for when he still expects him to take him back. ]
[ His hand starts rising but Dodger's already removing himself, and Squalo hopes he didn't notice that hesitation he'd just displayed. Instead he turns after him, nose scrunched in indignation. ]
Whose twig legs?!!
[ He's totally punching the man again. Multiple times, maybe not particularly hard and not really aiming for his face in particular, just hitting him wherever like an angry girlfriend a vicious playfight between friends. ]
[You're already doing the time may as well do the crime.
If he noticed the moment of hesitation on Squalo's end, he doesn't let it show. But he bursts into laughter when he's punched, raising his arms defensively until he sees an opening to lunge forward, wrap his arms around Squalo and roll off of the couch. Which... lands them on their side, so honestly he takes more of the hit than Squalo does. Whoops.]
You really wanna tell me you're not a twig? I could snap you in half.
[ That would be the logical decision, wouldn't it? ]
[ Squalo lets out an indignant shriek as the world tumbles around him, but at least Dodger breaks his fall by the sheer quality of being Wider than him. He still wiggles angrily and tries to headbutt him again, though really, it's all in good fun. He's not angry, just annoyed, excited and whatever the opposite of chill is. ]
Yeah, that's only 'cause you've got freakish strength!
[His fingers tangle in Squalo's hair, careful to be gentle and not pull any out. He just wants to hold him close, press their foreheads together while he laughs openly. It's loud but soft, genuine and affectionate.]
You're so fucking cute when you're angry.
[He leans up to press a kiss to Squalo's forehead, before letting him go.]
[ There's something comforting about the other man's hold on him, no matter how much Squalo usually hates being restrained in any way. The laughter is contagious, and he can't help but join in, though his own is rough and short, like a dog barking. ]
[ He gets the kiss, grins like it's the best goddamn gift he could have received, and punches Dodger again as soon as he's free. ]
[He takes the punch with a grin, and rolls over immediately to straddle Squalo's hips and aim a punch to his jaw. It's light, aiming to bruise but not break. And he'll aim a slightly gentler one at Squalo's nose.]
[ It'd better be strong enough to give him a nosebleed at least, otherwise, are they even real punches? ]
[ Either way, Squalo's screaming in frustration and slamming his fist into Dodger's stomach before going to sock him in the face again. He's definitely not trying to be gentle, though he's using his artificial hand sparingly at least, not keen on breaking anything either. ]
[ Bruises are good, though. He wants to be sore and swollen and blue and laugh it off with a goddamn drink and maybe a stale waffle in good company. And this is it, this is what he has now, the closest he can get to someone understanding him. ]
Hey, fuck off, Dog Bait!
[ He's trying to flip them over. It may or may not be a little like an ant trying to move a chicken leg. ]
Honestly, he doesn't mind Squalo going full strength. It's cathartic, invigorating, to feel Squalo's fists slamming into him and know he'll be bruised by the end of the night.]
Make me.
[He lets Squalo roll them over, shifts his own body weight to make it easier. Because this is really just play-wrestling to him, no matter how hard Squalo hits or shoves.]
Come on, use your other hand. Make it hurt.
/glances at ur icon he's getting turned on by this isnt he
[ There's a sweet middle ground somewhere, but fine, fine. The effort is appreciated. He wouldn't want to have a crooked nose if by some chance it doesn't heal right. He's already lucked out once. ]
[ To an extent, Squalo's aware that his best punches have little effect on the other man. That he probably wouldn't be able to move him if he didn't allow him to. In a way, that's exciting, but it also infuriates him. He was never "not good enough"! How dared he! ]
[ His left cheek twitches in that particular way that signals he's about to fucking lose it, but he still manages a grin. ]
If you insist.
[ And he's slamming his weaponized fist into Dodger's face. Somewhere between the eyes, or more to one side, but definitely a spot that will bruise. ]
[ Speaking of which, Squalo has probably had a few before he even showed up here, which really fits quite well with his earlier cageyness. ]
[The impact of the fist against his brow sends him reeling, but it feels fantastic. Euphoric, to all those crossed wires that read pain as pleasure after years of drug use and fucked-up relationships.
He sucks in a breath before reaching up, tangling his fingers in Squalo's hair before gripping his head and yanking him down to smack their foreheads together. It leaves Dodger a little dizzy, but that will be enough to do some serious damage to Squalo.
Which means, of course, that Dodger's loosening his grip and immediately checking that Squalo is still okay. Even if he's trying not to show the concern on his face.]
[ There's a brief moment of uncertainty when Dodger's hand goes into his hair, but it turns out it's just an improvised headbutt. A pretty damn strong one, at that, and it's a good thing he's got a thick skull or this might have ended badly for him. As is, he just sees green stars and sort of slumps on top of the other man for a moment, but he's shaking with laughter a second later. ]
[ And so, they continue to beat the shit out of each other, but in a friendly way, until they're both bruised and bleeding and have at least one blackeye each. Realistically, Squalo had probably taken more damage and maybe a mild concussion, but he definitely put up a valiant effort to dish it right back out. ]
[ In the end they're both on the floor, maybe still a little tangled, catching their breaths and watching the room spin. Squalo's grin doesn't fade even as he turns to spit out a triangle tooth -- it would grow back eventually, one good thing to come from that transformation. For a little while, it's quiet. And then, ]
Got something to eat?
[ Because this was a perfectly normal thing to ask someone that you've been mutually pummeling within an inch of their lives or whatever. Listen, it's just how people hang out, right? ]
[He's still catching his breath when Squalo speaks, and his voice comes out breathy and gravelly.]
Not really. Just some old leftover garbage.
[Which isn't really an exaggeration. The stuff in his fridge is probably on the verge of expiring, although he might have some french fries in the freezer or something. Most of what he keeps in the house is alcohol, unsurprisingly.
He settles on the floor, watching Squalo with something akin to wonder on his face. Maybe just admiration.]
[ How hard could it be to scrounge up something like breadsticks or whatever? Nonetheless, the mention of more booze has Squalo perking up. He sits up a bit too suddenly, groans, then laughs breathlessly at his own sorry state. ]
A'ight, fuck that, it's getting plastered time. Hey, I think I had some left, too. [ He pauses, eyeing Dodger for a moment, the somewhat suspicious narrowing of eyes shifting into a little smug smirk when he catches a whiff of that admiration. You could think he's actually basking in the attention. ]
[ Well, he is extremely starved for it at the moment. ]
When you say "harder shit"...
[ He's not sure if he wants to do drugs, sorry. Then again, his relative self-loathing seems to be at an all time high, so who knows. ]
[When he says harder shit...] I mean harder shit. Frenzy, weed, the drugs from the club, I think I have a couple doses of morphine left from Christmas. If you really wanna have an out-of-body experience, you could try taking the ceruloxetine - but I'm not responsible if you die.
[He honestly... doesn't really know what will happen if Squalo takes it. But I do, and it will be bad.]
If you wanna bitch out, though, I've got beer and whiskey.
[And he's still not getting off the floor. Everything hurts and this is a great angle to watch Squalo.]
[ He jokes. Probably. Unlike his magical friend however, he needs to make sure he doesn't damage his livelihood during one of such binges. Which means he generally stays away from unfamiliar things and drugs, but damn if it doesn't sound tempting at the moment. ]
[ He reaches out toward Dodger. If he doesn't move away, he'll give him a few teasing tugs on the nose. ]
Really? You got morphine for Christmas? That's sad bitch drug. You wanna feel numb, I can do it for ya any time.
[ He lets go of him and wiggles his fingers in a manner that's half-playful and half on-the-nose-spooky. ]
I didn't get it to get high. Sometimes you're not around, and I need to patch myself up.
[He shrugs, finally getting up and touching his nose with a hint of indignation. All of him aches, but he wants to keep feeling it. Fuck, he wants more of it, but he's already fighting back urges that Squalo's made perfectly clear are off-limits.]
Beer's in the fridge, whiskey's in the cabinets somewhere. I can move a bottle into the fridge if we're feeling fancy. Want something on the TV while we drink?
[ Squalo rolls over, crawls to the couch where he'd left his booze bag, and returns with two and half bottles of vodka, grinning stupidly and offering one to Dodger. ]
Damn right we're feeling fancy. [ He looks around for the TV. ] Sure. Is anything good on?
[ He'll just let Dodger choose because he doesn't really watch a lot. Something about always being busy with real life things. ]
[Dodger shrugs vaguely; most of what he watches is snuff films and true crime documentaries, and he's not about to assume that falls under Squalo's definition of 'good'.]
Just turn it on and see if you're into that.
[It's probably set to some porn channel, at the moment. He takes a moment to move one of his whiskey bottles to the fridge, before teleporting onto the couch. And he'll just... let the TV play until Squalo insists on the channel being changed.]
[ Squalo has essentially done snuff films. Or more like, recorded himself murdering other swordsmen a hundred times and sent the DVDs to the boy he was training in the art of sword, as one does. But yeah, he's definitely into those, even if he may mistake "true crime" for a sitcom because it's just daily life for him. ]
[ Anyway, he'll press the "next" button until whatever is on the screen looks more like gore than porn, then settle down on the couch. ]
[ And as soon as Dodger materializes next to him, he's immediately leaning against him with his entire side to make himself comfortable (and warm), and then holds up his bottle in front of him, as if to clink for a toast. Come on, buddy, don't leave him hanging. ]
You can ask.
[ He'll decide if he wants to answer once he hears it, but rest assured, he's not going to lie. ]
[Dodger raises a brow at the man snuggling into him, but he'll take it. One of his arms casually wraps around Squalo's waist, and he clinks their bottles together before taking a gulp.]
Why don't you care what I did to everyone else? Hector, Nekane, and Garrett.
[A little bit more nuanced than just 'why do you like me'. Part of him feels like Squalo went too easy on him, but he knows his heart wasn't in it.]
[ Squalo's pointedly not acknowledging that questioning look and just relaxing into the sweet, sweet warmth. Actually, he also hurts all over, but he's managing not to hiss, and he's accepting the other's arm around him like it's no big deal. ]
[ He does, however, fall silent for a moment at the question. It's harder to excuse it when he has to say it aloud, but... ]
[ Because this was more important to me right now. ]
[ He takes a long sip from the bottle. ]
I don't particularly care about Nekane and Garrett in general.
[ He moves his free shoulder in a shrug. Not as much as I care about you. He does care about Hector, however, and it's more difficult to explain. He's not sure he wants to. He frowns and drinks again. Even so... ]
...Hector should really know what he's in for at this point. [ So clearly, whatever happened had to be as much his own fault as Dodger's. Friend of the year, everyone. But, more importantly, he vaguely gestures at them and, in particular, to his face, half of which is probably blooming lovely blue and red by now. ] And he wouldn't be able to give me this kind of comfort.
[ Because clearly, being pummelled within an inch of his life is what he needs right now. ]
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[ There's another, shorter bout of ugly snortlaughing at that response, though. Of fucking course. ]
Well, fuck you.
[ It's almost a little bit affectionate. Likewise, for a tiny little moment, Squalo felt like he was back home and everything was fine. That alone was worth whatever ill consequences could possibly come from this. ]
[ Rather than bothering to properly get up, he braces against the back of the couch and aims a nasty kick at one of Dodger's knees, no doubt wanting to bring him down to his level. Literally speaking. ]
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There's a flair of temptation, a moment where he wonders how much he could take before Squalo pushed him off.
And then his shoulders relax, and he laughs quietly before rolling off of him.]
Here, it'd be a shame if I crushed your twig legs.
1/2
[ Squalo is also quiet for the briefest moment as he looks up at Dodger, though there's nothing really telling in his expression, maybe just a bit of a held breath for a second. Part of him wants to just pull him the rest of the way down, fuck the consequences. Bite, touch, finally feel something after weeks of draught. ]
[ But he can't do that. He can't do exactly the same thing Xanxus hates him for when he still expects him to take him back. ]
2/2
Whose twig legs?!!
[ He's totally punching the man again. Multiple times, maybe not particularly hard and not really aiming for his face in particular, just hitting him wherever like
an angry girlfrienda vicious playfight between friends. ]no subject
You're already doing the time may as well do the crime.If he noticed the moment of hesitation on Squalo's end, he doesn't let it show. But he bursts into laughter when he's punched, raising his arms defensively until he sees an opening to lunge forward, wrap his arms around Squalo and roll off of the couch. Which... lands them on their side, so honestly he takes more of the hit than Squalo does. Whoops.]
You really wanna tell me you're not a twig? I could snap you in half.
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That would be the logical decision, wouldn't it?][ Squalo lets out an indignant shriek as the world tumbles around him, but at least Dodger breaks his fall by the sheer quality of being Wider than him. He still wiggles angrily and tries to headbutt him again, though really, it's all in good fun. He's not angry, just annoyed, excited and whatever the opposite of chill is. ]
Yeah, that's only 'cause you've got freakish strength!
[ #NotATwig ]
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You're so fucking cute when you're angry.
[He leans up to press a kiss to Squalo's forehead, before letting him go.]
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[ He gets the kiss, grins like it's the best goddamn gift he could have received, and punches Dodger again as soon as he's free. ]
I'm not fuckin' done. Hit me.
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C'mon, Fish Breath, up your game a little.
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[ Either way, Squalo's screaming in frustration and slamming his fist into Dodger's stomach before going to sock him in the face again. He's definitely not trying to be gentle, though he's using his artificial hand sparingly at least, not keen on breaking anything either. ]
[ Bruises are good, though. He wants to be sore and swollen and blue and laugh it off with a goddamn drink and maybe a stale waffle in good company. And this is it, this is what he has now, the closest he can get to someone understanding him. ]
Hey, fuck off, Dog Bait!
[ He's trying to flip them over. It may or may not be a little like an ant trying to move a chicken leg. ]
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Honestly, he doesn't mind Squalo going full strength. It's cathartic, invigorating, to feel Squalo's fists slamming into him and know he'll be bruised by the end of the night.]
Make me.
[He lets Squalo roll them over, shifts his own body weight to make it easier. Because this is really just play-wrestling to him, no matter how hard Squalo hits or shoves.]
Come on, use your other hand. Make it hurt.
/glances at ur icon he's getting turned on by this isnt he
[ To an extent, Squalo's aware that his best punches have little effect on the other man. That he probably wouldn't be able to move him if he didn't allow him to. In a way, that's exciting, but it also infuriates him. He was never "not good enough"! How dared he! ]
[ His left cheek twitches in that particular way that signals he's about to fucking lose it, but he still manages a grin. ]
If you insist.
[ And he's slamming his weaponized fist into Dodger's face. Somewhere between the eyes, or more to one side, but definitely a spot that will bruise. ]
[ Speaking of which, Squalo has probably had a few before he even showed up here, which really fits quite well with his earlier cageyness. ]
maybe a little bit (maybe a lot)
He sucks in a breath before reaching up, tangling his fingers in Squalo's hair before gripping his head and yanking him down to smack their foreheads together. It leaves Dodger a little dizzy, but that will be enough to do some serious damage to Squalo.
Which means, of course, that Dodger's loosening his grip and immediately checking that Squalo is still okay. Even if he's trying not to show the concern on his face.]
oh no
[ And so, they continue to beat the shit out of each other, but in a friendly way, until they're both bruised and bleeding and have at least one blackeye each. Realistically, Squalo had probably taken more damage and maybe a mild concussion, but he definitely put up a valiant effort to dish it right back out. ]
[ In the end they're both on the floor, maybe still a little tangled, catching their breaths and watching the room spin. Squalo's grin doesn't fade even as he turns to spit out a triangle tooth -- it would grow back eventually, one good thing to come from that transformation. For a little while, it's quiet. And then, ]
Got something to eat?
[ Because this was a perfectly normal thing to ask someone that you've been mutually pummeling within an inch of their lives or whatever. Listen, it's just how people hang out, right? ]
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Not really. Just some old leftover garbage.
[Which isn't really an exaggeration. The stuff in his fridge is probably on the verge of expiring, although he might have some french fries in the freezer or something. Most of what he keeps in the house is alcohol, unsurprisingly.
He settles on the floor, watching Squalo with something akin to wonder on his face. Maybe just admiration.]
I've got more booze, though. And harder shit.
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[ How hard could it be to scrounge up something like breadsticks or whatever? Nonetheless, the mention of more booze has Squalo perking up. He sits up a bit too suddenly, groans, then laughs breathlessly at his own sorry state. ]
A'ight, fuck that, it's getting plastered time. Hey, I think I had some left, too. [ He pauses, eyeing Dodger for a moment, the somewhat suspicious narrowing of eyes shifting into a little smug smirk when he catches a whiff of that admiration. You could think he's actually basking in the attention. ]
[ Well, he is extremely starved for it at the moment. ]
When you say "harder shit"...
[ He's not sure if he wants to do drugs, sorry. Then again, his relative self-loathing seems to be at an all time high, so who knows. ]
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[He honestly... doesn't really know what will happen if Squalo takes it.
But I do, and it will be bad.]If you wanna bitch out, though, I've got beer and whiskey.
[And he's still not getting off the floor. Everything hurts and this is a great angle to watch Squalo.]
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[ He jokes. Probably. Unlike his magical friend however, he needs to make sure he doesn't damage his livelihood during one of such binges. Which means he generally stays away from unfamiliar things and drugs, but damn if it doesn't sound tempting at the moment. ]
[ He reaches out toward Dodger. If he doesn't move away, he'll give him a few teasing tugs on the nose. ]
Really? You got morphine for Christmas? That's sad bitch drug. You wanna feel numb, I can do it for ya any time.
[ He lets go of him and wiggles his fingers in a manner that's half-playful and half on-the-nose-spooky. ]
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[He shrugs, finally getting up and touching his nose with a hint of indignation. All of him aches, but he wants to keep feeling it. Fuck, he wants more of it, but he's already fighting back urges that Squalo's made perfectly clear are off-limits.]
Beer's in the fridge, whiskey's in the cabinets somewhere. I can move a bottle into the fridge if we're feeling fancy. Want something on the TV while we drink?
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[ Squalo rolls over, crawls to the couch where he'd left his booze bag, and returns with two and half bottles of vodka, grinning stupidly and offering one to Dodger. ]
Damn right we're feeling fancy. [ He looks around for the TV. ] Sure. Is anything good on?
[ He'll just let Dodger choose because he doesn't really watch a lot. Something about always being busy with real life things. ]
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Just turn it on and see if you're into that.
[It's probably set to some porn channel, at the moment. He takes a moment to move one of his whiskey bottles to the fridge, before teleporting onto the couch. And he'll just... let the TV play until Squalo insists on the channel being changed.]
Hey. Can I ask you something?
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[ Anyway, he'll press the "next" button until whatever is on the screen looks more like gore than porn, then settle down on the couch. ]
[ And as soon as Dodger materializes next to him, he's immediately leaning against him with his entire side to make himself comfortable (and warm), and then holds up his bottle in front of him, as if to clink for a toast. Come on, buddy, don't leave him hanging. ]
You can ask.
[ He'll decide if he wants to answer once he hears it, but rest assured, he's not going to lie. ]
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Why don't you care what I did to everyone else? Hector, Nekane, and Garrett.
[A little bit more nuanced than just 'why do you like me'. Part of him feels like Squalo went too easy on him, but he knows his heart wasn't in it.]
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[ He does, however, fall silent for a moment at the question. It's harder to excuse it when he has to say it aloud, but... ]
[ Because this was more important to me right now. ]
[ He takes a long sip from the bottle. ]
I don't particularly care about Nekane and Garrett in general.
[ He moves his free shoulder in a shrug. Not as much as I care about you. He does care about Hector, however, and it's more difficult to explain. He's not sure he wants to. He frowns and drinks again. Even so... ]
...Hector should really know what he's in for at this point. [ So clearly, whatever happened had to be as much his own fault as Dodger's. Friend of the year, everyone. But, more importantly, he vaguely gestures at them and, in particular, to his face, half of which is probably blooming lovely blue and red by now. ] And he wouldn't be able to give me this kind of comfort.
[ Because clearly, being pummelled within an inch of his life is what he needs right now. ]
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Hector knows what he signed up for. First time we met, I went out of my way to try and scare him.
[It's almost a bitter memory now. If only he hadn't met the man. Or gotten bored during their first meeting. Maybe this wouldn't hurt as much.
Idly, he reaches up to pet Squalo's hair.]
You look good with bruises.
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