disproof | [tfln/meme overflow]

"...Ah." He's good at cold, even if annoyance buzzes at the top of his skull, or if fear hooks burrs into his jaw and lungs. Strand simple raises his eyebrows and stays cool. His eyes stay away from the swarm or the strained color of Eddie's knuckles around the blanket. They move from Eddie's face to the recorder, back again as he reaches for it. "I thought it was more of suggestion. I don't need this. Look--"

With his thumb, he slides the battery cover off and lets it fall to the table. Strand pinches his mug between his knees to free up both hands. The batteries come out of the recorder, along with the tiny storage card in the side. Both go in the drawer of the coffee table, and he offers the device to Eddie over the back of the couch. "--here. I don't need it."

Eddie pauses, eyes flicking between the drawer, Richard and the recorder before he snatches the proffered device. As soon as he's confirmed it's non-functional it's immediately discarded, tumbling to the floor at his feet while he steps around the couch. His smile is back in place, fingers smoothing over the wrinkled surface of the blanket before he shakes it out.

"This was a good idea," he says approvingly, wrapping one end of the blanket around Richard's shoulders. Eddie settles in the seat next to him, tucking the other end around himself and raising his arm expectantly, waiting for his wife to settle against him. He's entirely oblivious to the humanoid shape hovering above them, giving the distinct impression of something watching and hungry. "A pity we don't have a fire to make it more romantic but it's enough to be here with you."

For a damning moment, Richard just stares at him. He's never been a snuggler. Not as a child, not as a dating teen, not even during the abbreviated course of his marriage. So he stares, until the realization sets in that he's being invited, and then the weight in his stomach drops.

"This--this house used to have a fireplace." The explanation is quiet, as controlled and nearly as awkward as the way Richard scoots in. He keeps the mug in one hand, tugging the blanket under his arm with the other, and leans into Eddie's side gingerly. When he points up to the corner of the room where the ceiling is stained and coarsely plastered, he has to gesture around the dark figure in the air. "There. Before we owned the place, they removed it. But it would leak in bad weather for a long time."

He fixed it when he was a teenager. His dad wasn't around to do it. Strand sighs tightly, jaw winds closed as his eyes follow the Walrider. "Do you see this? What is it doing?"

That moment stretches, the see-saw of Eddie's mood beginning to dip in the opposite direction, his smile fading, eyes narrowing until he gets what he's after and Richard tucks in against his side. A heavy arm is immediately wrapped around his shoulders, bulldozing over any awkwardness as Eddie pulls him in with a pleased sound. His eyes follow the gesture, taking in the disfigured patch of ceiling with mild interest. A pity it was gone - he could just picture perfect winter evenings spent sitting by the fire, reading to their children-

He's pulled from that particular fantasy by Richard's voice, looking at him in puzzlement before following his gaze toward the ceiling again. There's a furrow between his brows as he frowns up at the ceiling, looking straight at and then through the dark shape there. "What is what doing, darling? I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific." He's winding tight against Richard, growing tension belying his stated obliviousness.

"Honesty," Richard murmurs, eyes turning up towards him, "needs to go both ways, Eddie."

Eddie slowly turns to meet Richard's eyes, his own flickering over the other's features. He looks away briefly, grimacing and tense. It's not right for a wife to be so demanding - she should be obedient - but. Relationships need honesty. Not lies. His father used to lie and Eddie's nothing like him.

Reluctantly, he turns back, clearly unhappy as he opens his mouth. "I- It thinks it might get to have you, darling." Like the other whores before. Another bloody sacrifice.

"I won't let that happen," he assures, holding Richard tightly against himself. Not if he doesn't make him.

Not like the others. His mouth presses flat, body yields to Eddie’s by inches—better here than there—till Eddie’s arm rests across his chest, his head back against Eddie’s shoulder to watch the swarm. The rain starts to feel like it’s just a soundtrack for the cloud.

“How do you keep it away?” No recorder, but he’s curious. The questions wander out on their own, past the sticky, phlegmy nerves in his throat. “Does it talk to you?”

Far more contented with the contact than Richard, Eddie rests his head against his wife's, soaking up the closeness. His contentment is soured somewhat by the persistent questions and he sifts irritably in place. "Why does it matter? You don't have anything to worry about so just ignore it."

He's hoping there's no danger anyway. Hoping his own will is enough to keep the Walrider from tearing Richard apart like so many others. He's never had to worry about it before, he hasn't been around others long enough to test it.... But no, he must be able to control it. Otherwise how could they have had a proper courtship and wedding? How could they have lasted long enough to make a home together?

"You should be used to it after all this time, my darling." His voice is changing again, coldness creeping in, the swarm seeming to react to it by creeping closer. "Why should it be a problem, unless you don't trust me to keep you safe?"

It comes to him honestly, slips out of his mouth while he struggles to strike a balance between stiffening with worry or indulging in his own ego and fighting. Neither fearing nor defending, Richard admits honestly, “I’m not doubting you, Eddie. I’m just trying to understand you. This is—“

A stutter as the swarm gets closer, where his arm comes up as if to shove it away. “—this is all new territory.”

Increasingly irritated with them both, Eddie scowls. His arm tightens around Richard, becoming less affectionate and more imprisoning. "How can it be new? We've been married for.... Long enough." He can't remember how long - not enough to have children yet but that can take time.

His glare switches to the Walrider, almost petulant as he declares, "She's my wife, not some whore. You can't." Instead of withdrawing like he wants it to, it almost seems to snarl at him and he squeezes Richard tighter in response.

“Eddie, I’m not—“ The arm around him squeezes the protest quiet and jostles his half-full mug. He doesn’t get to correcting that he’s not a wife, they aren’t married. Not around pushing at Eddie’s elbow, not with how his head swims at the pressure and the swarm and the precarious way his drink splashed. “Let me up. One minute, let me up.”

"What?" Eddie's attention snaps back to Richard. Surprise grants his request as Eddie's grip goes slack, arm slipping from where it was keeping hold as it's shoved away. He doesn't know what Richard hopes to do but he's sure it's going to end with him a widower one way or another.

He's relieved, certainly, when he's able to shift to the side, to himself. It's what he asked for, after all, and there's comfort in knowing that even in this state, there are ways to tell Eddie no.

But without the assurance of an arm around him, Richard's gut twists immediately with worry over something as stupid as reach to put his cup on the table. "I just need--" The words trip and tangle. Just far enough not to touch, Richard crosses his legs on the couch, sits up straight with his hands on his knees and his eyes on the swarm. "What can I do?

"It hasn't done this before, so there must be something I'm doing to provoke it. Right? So. What can I do?"

[tfln/meme overflow]

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short post but eDD orz

why you gotta be like that? just swallow his bs ok?

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