[ (š¤ļø) - A memory they feel trapped in.
For whichever muse most strikes your fancy. Am curiousssss] | @fate-called
INBOX ASK GAME: MEMORIES | Still accepting
They're both still venting heavily, condensation beading on their armor and metal still pinging every so often as it cools off. The lights are dim, so Trip even has his visor retracted for a change. He still has his legs hitched over Silver's hips, and his servos are still on the berth on either side of his helm even after Silver's let them go, his digits curled loosely toward his palms.
Primus, he's pretty. That's never really news, but it feels like Silver remembers it all over again every so often, and Trip is looking back at him like he's remembering a similar realization.
Trip looks startled by the words that have just come out of his mouth, but he doesn't take them back.
Silver feels like he's been doused in liquid nitrogen.
For a moment, his mouth moves, but no words come out, and then he closes his mouth again with a clack of denta.
Trip is smiling at him. Gently. Crookedly. Like he's trying not to take it personally.
"You don't need to say yes, Silvy."
He'll extricate himself from under Silver and get up and go to get cleaned up and they will never talk about this again and it will just sit there between them, like a pebble perpetually stuck in a tread. Silver can already see how it might play out.
Silver leans forward before Trip can start to get up, snatches up his servos again, laces their digits together, and squeezes.
He doesn't know what he's going to say. There's no time to plan out the words--
"You deserve someone who can actually love you."
"You do love me," Trip argues. He finally squeezes Silver's servos back.
"All the time," Silver clarifies, rolling his optics. "Not once every other stellar cycle."
"You do love me all the time," Trip insists. Silver opens his mouth to argue, but Trip gives him no time. "You're not always in love with me," he concedes, "but you do always love me. Whether or not that's enough for me is probably more my jurisdiction than yours."
Silver... can't think of an argument for that, because it's not wrong. Silence stretches for a moment, until Trip smiles that same crooked smile again and says, "Just think about it, alright?"
Silver swallows and nods mutely. Neither of them moves for a moment longer. And then Trip extricates himself from under Silver. He gets up. He goes to the wash rack to get cleaned up. Silver has no idea if he will ever bring it up again.
