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Crash Standing -- What-Ifs and Maybes

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"Byrd," she says with even more careful enunciation than usual, and that's how you know she's kind of drunk. "I do not wish to impugn on your transcendental broship with John."

She looks all challenging yet dignified, like she said something especially noble or important. You nod patiently, and pat the wooden log you're sitting on, your beer bottle trapped between your knees. Mighty useful as grabbing limbs, those knees, you'd never have found out without losing your hand and she would have tripped and gone down from you not being free to catch her and help her down.

That or she would have gotten a boobful of beer. You're not sure which would be considered worse.

She spends a few seconds smoothing down the beach-shawl skirt thing she's wearing over her swimsuit.

"I do not wish to impugn," she repeats. "Impugn...ate?"

"I think impugn was right. But?"

"But? Was it not right after all?"

You try not to smile. "You don't wish to impugn, but... you're gonna do it anyway?"

"Oh! Oh, no. I was just thinking, while your relationship has a lot of the, the trappings of a moirallegiance -- oh fuck."

After all those acrobatics, she just dropped her soda now. She stares mournfully at it. You snicker and hand her your beer, which she declines with a grimace. Trolls are impervious to ready-made alcohol, but when they get enough sugar in their system apparently it ferments right in their stomach or guts and bam.

She squares her shoulders and sets her horns in a forward stance that reminds you of Karkat's more stubborn moods. It's potentially scarier on her, since she has those long-ass barbed daggerpoints on her head instead of harmless little nubs. She's aiming to the left of you, though.

"John doesn't kiss you! Or cuddle you! And I respect it as a human thing, but if you wanted to, oh, I forgot my speech. Damn it."

She looks so chagrined that you snicker again. (You might be a tiny bit, uh, relaxed yourself. S'fine, you can roll with it. What do you look like, Dave?) "You had a speech, holy shit." She looks all chagrined, awgh, whoops. "No, it's fine, it's you, I bet you write speeches for a lot of things. Hey, it's fine, not everyone can have the gift of instant verbiage like I do. So you want to steal me for your diamond, girl? What about our gossipchumpage? You fiftrant hussy."

"No! No, I."

She pauses. Purses her eyebrows, her mouth.

"Does the gossipchump quadrant contain any physical affection? Because, I. Well, I find myself craving a damned hug, but Rose cannot seem to conceive of it in a way that does not eventually involve her hands going places. Very awkward places! And when she tries to be chaste it's even awkwarder somehow. Um. Was awkwarder a word."

Pff. Cute. You nudge her shoulder with yours.

"But do you have any actual pale designs on me, Maryam, you gotta tell me that first."

She starts chewing on the edge of a claw, eyes huge and worried. "Maybe... a smidgen?"

"A smidgen."

She squirms in her seat. "Well. You are pretty pitiable some days. And your hair is very nice! But I'm hardly pining. That would  be very silly and not something I would do. Also I did that once, only for another quadrant, and it was stupid and made me feel stupid, and... bluh."

Oh god she's so drunk. Hahaha. Also, d'aww. Um, no, wait, is she, like, serious considering you. Welp. That might be pretty bad? (Or would it be that bad? It's not like you don't enjoy her company at all. Um. Hm. Hrrm.)



"I remember my speech." She grins, all chompers out. You grin back. It's charming like a grin from a kid with missing front teeth. Even though this is, like. The opposite issue. "John will not take it as cheating on him, right?"

Snerk. "He will definitely not."

"And you, um. You consider me a friend, right? And some of you humans, well. We did have several multi-participant piles and. Okay, I'm not sugared up enough after all."

You, uh, you're sure some people out there by the fire might construe what happens next as you bursting out laughing, but they would be wrong. Yep. You were, uh. Sneezing. Or something.

No, wait, you're not Dave! Emotional freedom all up in that bitch. You laugh some more.

"Hey, did Rose tell you about the human tradition of drunken one-night-makeouts. Cause I'm telling you, just in case--"

"Of course she did," Kanaya says. "I would hardly be here otherwise. Also Aradia kissed John earlier and everyone just laughed."

You arch an eyebrow. Okay, that's one juicy bit of gossip. Which everyone will know already before you, but that doesn't mean you can't tease John about it.

"Okay then. I'm just saying, unless you're homing in on my flush, I'm pretty okay with cuddles." Wait, that wasn't all, was it. "But just so we're clear. Kisses on the mouth, not okay?"

She brightens, grin wide and surprised. D'aww. You shuffle your butt closer so you can side-hug her around the back, and she lets out a strange startled crickety noise that has you snorting out another laugh.

"No, close-mouthed is fine."

You breathe out, relieved. "But no tongue."

She makes a thinking face. "I find the idea of your tongue very gross and would likely bite."

You turn to face her, and you lean in and solemnly cup her cheek, forehead to forehead, face hopefully transmitting all the gravity of this situation. "Well then. Let us mack, miss Maryam."

Giggling, she kisses the tip of your nose, and then drags you in to cuddle up to her cleavage.