Oliver Hampton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
catphishing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
epidemiology2017-09-02 05:14 pm
catphishing) wrote in epidemiology2017-09-02 05:14 pm
Entry tags:
[CLOSED] What day is today? It's Oliver's birthday.
CHARACTERS: Oliver, Mettaton & Connor
DATE: 2nd September unless otherwise stated
WARNINGS:Watch this space. Thirst quenching. I'm sorry...
SUMMARY: A bunch of starters because Oliver's getting old.
Closed to Mettaton
[Oliver hesitates before he messages Mettaton. He's 32, single, and somehow lonelier than he'd been before Connor showed up. Asher's the only person he knows from home here who'll even speak to him, and without the friends and family he's always had by his side on previous birthdays it doesn't feel like there's much reason to celebrate.
It takes a lot of talking himself up before he can bring himself to do it, but he knows it's ridiculous not to. He's not alone here. Not really. It makes no sense to spend a day he's supposed to be happy dwelling on what he doesn't have instead of enjoying what he does.
He heads to the kitchen to retrieve cake and various other necessities first, then on his way back to his room fires off a text to his friend before he can change his mind. His birthday only happens once a year. He deserves to enjoy himself.]
I'm about to put on a movie, you should come over!
[He doesn't wait for a response before starting to set things up. Mettaton's been a good friend to him and he has no reason to think he'd let him down now. He clears off his bedside table only to fill it again with the cake, along with popcorn, candy, and a couple of plates. There's not really any room for the wine he'd brought up so he settles for leaving that and the wine glasses on the floor next to it. It's not the classiest set up, but that doesn't matter.
By the time he checks his messages again all he has to do is set up Tekflex to show them the Full Monty. After all, what's more uplifting than steelworkers come strippers?]
Closed to Connor - 5th September
[This is a mistake. Out of everywhere in Oska this is the last place he should be. Yet here he is, hovering uncertainly outside Connor's door. He's too nervous to knock, but he can't make himself turn away either. He misses him. He doesn't want to carry on acting like he does't exist.
He's lost count of the amount of times he's raised his fist only to let it sink back down without knocking. It's already getting late. Maybe he'd be better coming back tomorrow. Maybe Connor has someone else in there in there already. He can't here anything, but that doesn't rule anything out. Maybe he's not even here. He has no right to be upset by the thought of Connor in another man's bed, but it makes him feel a little sick regardless.
Eventually Oliver does build up the courage to knock, but it's an action he regrets immediately. What if Connor is in there with someone? What if Connor answers and all they do is argue again? What if all he does when he sees him is shut the door in his face? His stomach churns uncomfortably and he wants to leave, but he finds himself frozen in place, hardly able to breathe.
At this point he almost hopes Connor isn't in to answer.]
DATE: 2nd September unless otherwise stated
WARNINGS:
SUMMARY: A bunch of starters because Oliver's getting old.
Closed to Mettaton
[Oliver hesitates before he messages Mettaton. He's 32, single, and somehow lonelier than he'd been before Connor showed up. Asher's the only person he knows from home here who'll even speak to him, and without the friends and family he's always had by his side on previous birthdays it doesn't feel like there's much reason to celebrate.
It takes a lot of talking himself up before he can bring himself to do it, but he knows it's ridiculous not to. He's not alone here. Not really. It makes no sense to spend a day he's supposed to be happy dwelling on what he doesn't have instead of enjoying what he does.
He heads to the kitchen to retrieve cake and various other necessities first, then on his way back to his room fires off a text to his friend before he can change his mind. His birthday only happens once a year. He deserves to enjoy himself.]
I'm about to put on a movie, you should come over!
[He doesn't wait for a response before starting to set things up. Mettaton's been a good friend to him and he has no reason to think he'd let him down now. He clears off his bedside table only to fill it again with the cake, along with popcorn, candy, and a couple of plates. There's not really any room for the wine he'd brought up so he settles for leaving that and the wine glasses on the floor next to it. It's not the classiest set up, but that doesn't matter.
By the time he checks his messages again all he has to do is set up Tekflex to show them the Full Monty. After all, what's more uplifting than steelworkers come strippers?]
Closed to Connor - 5th September
[This is a mistake. Out of everywhere in Oska this is the last place he should be. Yet here he is, hovering uncertainly outside Connor's door. He's too nervous to knock, but he can't make himself turn away either. He misses him. He doesn't want to carry on acting like he does't exist.
He's lost count of the amount of times he's raised his fist only to let it sink back down without knocking. It's already getting late. Maybe he'd be better coming back tomorrow. Maybe Connor has someone else in there in there already. He can't here anything, but that doesn't rule anything out. Maybe he's not even here. He has no right to be upset by the thought of Connor in another man's bed, but it makes him feel a little sick regardless.
Eventually Oliver does build up the courage to knock, but it's an action he regrets immediately. What if Connor is in there with someone? What if Connor answers and all they do is argue again? What if all he does when he sees him is shut the door in his face? His stomach churns uncomfortably and he wants to leave, but he finds himself frozen in place, hardly able to breathe.
At this point he almost hopes Connor isn't in to answer.]
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Unfortunately, what the man says next cuts introductions a bit short. Mettaton's grin fades into wide-eyed, soul-crushing despair. It's Oliver's birthday. This is what he wanted to do? Movies, alone, with one person (albeit one amazing, unique person with a heart as gold as his bank account)?
...it's tragic. But it's also Oliver's day and he's allowed to do whatever he wants. If he wants to sit and watch movies, then...
The smile comes back, softer this time. Now that his tiny friend has started to busy herself exploring Mt. Oliver, Mettaton places his basket on the bed and begins removing the food he prepared: artisan sandwiches, fried tortilla chips, some sort of crazy bean gravy called "hummus", and some very carefully packaged cups filled with bright pink strawberry milkshakes.
...he assumed there would be more than one person here. This might be more than a little overkill.]
Well! It's their loss. Just you, me, and Annie, then. And if I have a personal stake in my role as an entertainer (which I do), this will be the most spectacular birthday you will ever have. Anything you want, darling! It's yours. I AM made of magic, after all. [Wink.]
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Luckily Anastasia already seems to be doing a lot to lift his spirits. He's doing his best to scritch the parts he knows cats like best, but it's difficult when she refuses to stay still. She's currently making her way from one arm to the other, making her way around the back of his neck to achieve this. He's barely even wincing at the sensation of her sharp little claws digging in through the material of his shirt. She's cute enough to make it worthwhile.]
Just don't let me eat all of this on my own. I won't even be able to move when it's time for the next mission.
[He tries not to show he knows this spread wasn't just made with the two of them in mind. It's a little embarrassing that that is his situation. And honestly the cat makes up for a lot how he's feeling right now. He might have a difficult time letting her go when it's time for Mettaton to leave.]
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He's so proud.
AHEM. With a small flourish, Mettaton makes himself comfortable on the edge of bed, one leg crossed over the other. But first...]
I don't mind calling in some reinforcements if you don't want this to be a two-man band, you know. [Or two men and a cat. Whichever.]
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It's fine. I don't want to make this a big deal. I just want to to spend some time with someone who actually likes me and watch something fun. I set up the Full Monty. Have you seen that one?
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He takes Annie back into his hands and sets her down onto the bed, his eyes still on Oliver. He shakes his head, still smiling, as she leaps into the basket and presumably after some unsuspecting ham sandwich.] Not that I recall. But I'm going to let my honor at being your chosen guest outweigh any trepidation about your taste.
You do, after all, have a crush on the Mighty Duck man.
[Nope. Not letting that one go.]
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[He's never telling Mettaton anything ever again. He rolls his eyes as he hands Mettaton one of the glasses.]
It's good. You'll like it. [Hopefully.] Just be glad I'm not dragging you into watching period dramas with me.
[Then again, they like a lot of the same movies. Maybe Mettaton actually likes those.]
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He takes the glass and swirls it, like one is wont to do with a fine glass of wine, and flexes his foot.]
"Period drama?"
[Explain.]
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[This better just be him not realizing what he means or he's going to be subjected to all of Oliver's favorites at some points. He sits back on the bed with a dreamy look in his eyes. He doesn't even seem to notice that Annie has emerged from the basket and is dropping pieces of chewed meat all over his floor. Presumably she'll eat those up pretty quickly anyway...]
I like the ones with forbidden romances. Like the stable boy and the lady of the house. Or the priest and the woman he can't help but love anyway.
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...wait. Old days?
This is the crushed face of a man who was just now told by his family that he isn't really of royal descent.]
Old days? [Do houses not have ladies and stable boys on the surface? That can't be true! There's been a MILLION princesses on this team! There is a woman who is both a lady AND a horse!!]
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[He looks over in bafflement, not expecting this kind of reaction at all. Why does he looks so upset?]
Is that bad...?
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Blindly, he reaches his hand out to where he estimates Annie has wandered off to, desperate for the comfort only a kitten can bring. Tiny, ham-scented teeth gnaw on one of his fingers.]
...no. N-no, it's fine!! [It's not fine.] I mean. Obviously, there still has to be places like that on the surface! I. Haha, I know they're not supposed to be documentaries...!
...
(Tell me princes still exist.)
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Princes exist.
[Just probably not in the way he's now realizing Mettaton thinks. He decides against breaking that to him. Maybe they even do where he comes from. After all, Oliver knows there isn't an underground land full of monsters beneath Philadelphia.]
You want me to start this?
[This is why he invited him. Asking him now is obviously not an attempt to change the subject in any way.]
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...]
Oh, the movie! [Yes, cheering up Oliver!! The ACTUAL crux of this situation! Mettaton leans forward to snatch up the ball of fluff still gagging herself on his fingers and pulls her into his lap, her tummy exposed as he holds onto her little paws.] Yes, whenever you're ready, darling. [He gently waves the kitten's paws up and down, like a cheerleader. She gnaws on one of his hands in retaliation.] Your audience is waiting to be enthralled!
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He grins, starting up the movie. Fox's signature tune blares triumphantly before giving way to a travelogue showing off Sheffield.]
You're going to like this one. Trust me.
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I would never do that to you, [he whispers into Annie's tiny ear. She lets out a soft wrow and squirms out of his hands, jumping off the bed despite Mettaton's plaintive nooooo.
Betrayed, he takes to lounging on the bed and sipping his-- hngk, okay, alcohol has a certain taste that he wasn't expecting once he gained the ability to taste it-- wine, dutifully and refusing to be a bad guest by not drinking it. He'll suffer for love. For friendship. For honor.
The first hang-up of the night comes with the planting of the main plot. Mettaton watches as the men jeer at a certain sign before turning his attention to Oliver.]
(Why would the show be Women Only?)
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Cats.
[He'll have to get used to that. He remembers that only too well from his own childhood feline. Annie seems intent on exploring the world under his bed right now. Most likely she'll reappear whenever it's most inconvenient for Mettaton. He's certain cats can sense that.
He settles back on the bed, content to sip his wine and eat his snacks. It's still early in the film, but with both of them having brought supplies there's already far too much to run out.
He turns to Mettaton with a soft 'hm?' at his question before it properly registers. It confuses him at first. It's so ingrained in him that this is the norm that even if he doesn't exactly like it he is used to it.]
It's for straight women. If a guy wanted to see a show like that he'd probably check out if a gay club had anything going on.
[His obliviousness suddenly makes him feel horribly aware of the words Gaz is using. He's said poof at least twice in the last minute. Even if he doesn't know the word itself the tone makes it clear it's derogatory, and his attitude in general isn't exactly progressive.]
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[That... doesn't make sense. That's far too much of the market to exclude. Just from a monetary stand-point, the concept is ridiculous. The confusion on Mettaton's face is plain as day as he attempts to understand what possible use the separation or, from the disgust being spewed at the men who'd stage such a show, the designation of masculinity or femininity to certain interests could have.
His mind goes back to one of several failed conversations with Asher. "...wear a friggin' scarf, dude. Aren't you into that gay shit anyway?"
He sips on his wine. Whether his face is blanching at the literal or metaphorical taste in his mouth is neither here nor there.] Is that... common on the surface? [Yes, there was the occasional push-back against what was considered normal for certain genders in the Underground, but he can't ever recall a time where that was connected to any sexuality...]
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I mean... it's not the 90s.
[Things have definitely improved in this decades since he'd first come out, but they're not exactly perfect either. There have still been plenty of times where being gay has made things harder, or even just meant expectations were different.]
This movie is pretty old, but yeah... I guess it's still kind of like that.
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Somehow it tastes less awful when you drink it in one fell swoop.
...anyway. He hadn't meant for this viewing to land on such a bummer of a conversation. Things may be like that where Oliver is from, but they aren't like that now. Not here. Especially not with Mettaton.
Reaching back into the basket, the robot pulls out a few glitter pens. One in particular is glittering and pink and he shakes it in his hand like tempting a dog with a stick.]
Come here.
[Yes, he's going to draw designs on his friend. Expectations aren't for stars.]
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What are you doing?
[It's fairly clear just what Mettaton's intention is, but he's dubious. The idea of being drawn on with glitter pens makes him feel like a teenage girl at a slumber party, not a (barely!) 32 year old man trying to drown out his relationship problems with a movie and good company.]
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Living. Don't be a sour-puss, now. Come here. Give me your arm.
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[He huffs, holding out his arm. It doesn't exactly disprove the sour-puss statement, but he does roll up his sleeve. There's some willingness there at least.]
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[But ah, the goading wins again. Mettaton pops the cap off his pen before taking Oliver's wrist into his grip. He presses the pen down, starting from the center of his friend's wrist, before working outward in careful, geometric lines capped with small circles. They weave outward, strong and steady, almost like a tapestry.
...or a motherboard. Whichever Oliver wants to believe.]
Talk to me, darling, [he urges while he works.] What do you need to hear?
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It feels nice, but somehow in some ways it makes him feel more empty. It's not Mettaton's intention and he knows it, but it's intimate in a way that's absent from his life and has been for far too long.]
I wish Connor liked me again. I miss how we were before everything got screwed up.
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[Connor, still. The signs were already bad when Oliver revealed the man's status as an ex, but the sirens continued to blare when Connor refused Oliver's invitation to their lovely beach night. Talk about rose-colored glasses hiding the red flags.
Mettaton thinks as he continues with his lines, borders dotted with ink.]
You think he doesn't?
[It's a cue to keep talking. Elaborate, dearest.]
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