Then you and your reptilian charge will be doubly better off without my involvement.
[If he weren't holding the phone he'd be crossing his arms, in demonstrable protest. It would be invisible anyway, given that this is all text, but the aura is there in his reply. Compassion and care... if this egg truly could read his mood, then it should be kept far away from him and his apathy and depression both.
He does briefly consider absconding. Putting off the inevitable. But that would take removing himself from the couch he was sprawled onto. Emet-Selch looks around, but no spur of energy was in sight. Exhaling heavily, he sinks back into the cushions, head resting against the arm of the couch. Slowly types his reply.]
I should take you apart one of these days. Perhaps something in there has merely shaken loose.
[Not that he thought anything was broken, or that he could restore any of those missing features given the lack of parts available on this world, and his inability to create anything.
But he missed that warming ability too, small as it was in the scheme of things.]
I dread finding out where you're planning to place it. But not so much to leave. Yes, I'm around. Not far from where you left me this morning.
You can save taking me apart for another day, when we're feeling kinky. ❤️ I'll be overjoyed to oblige...
[Without argument, Mettaton knows that this was a job for the two of them, if he was going to task himself with it at all. And he feels determined to help, another purpose added to his myriad of other purposes Mettaton found it easy to collect even in foreign worlds.
The robot barges into his own home. He often does this, and it always feels like barging, as he throws the door open dramatically. From the doorway- and even though he could simply glance to the side, as it's not as though the house is large, and that the sofa is far from the entryway- he calls out foor Emet-Selch.]
Yoo-hoo! Hades? Ah. There you are. You did move!
[Which is to say, that he moved from one room to another. From bed, to couch. Mettaton practically skips to his side, heels moving from the click of wood to the dampening of an area rug that still needs replacing. (There are a lot of decor options that still need replacing, as Mettaton's ability to gain income was only so swift, and he meticulously balances where he ought to allocate his shards given its limitations.) And there, he forces himself a seat on the couch.
If Emet-Selch is reclining, Mettaton merely scoots his butt at the edge of the sofa until he can crowd the smaller man back. This is how it is. There is no boundary between lovers. In his arms is an egg, about the size of a bowling ball cradled against metal.
And there, it is placed in Emet-Selch's lap. Mettaton knows that is a warm spot to die for, and the fondness on his face is paired with a tongue sticking out from his lips in determined focus. He knows what to do.]
[He does not bother texting a reply, tossing instead his phone to the side to await the storm. Eyes closed, he takes in the quiet that remained....
It always did feel like barging, or a break-in, the robot determined to make an entrance no matter the modesty of his surroundings, or an audience lackluster. Emet-Selch doesn't even react to the sound, expected as it was, though a heavy sigh is Mettaton's response to the greeting. A normal response, from him.
He also doesn't move from his position on the couch, taking up the whole thing, spread along its length and spilling over- as this wasn't a couch intended for nearly seven-foot anything. Accommodating black robes similarly drape over everything, even the floor. Nearly sighing another time as Mettaton forces a seat beside him, this manner of crowding was just as familiar to him; more unusual was this delivery made onto his lap.
Frowning down at the large egg, that seemed even more glittery in person, he grudgingly reaches out to nudge it, the fabric of his robes underneath it making an impromptu nest out of the whole thing. Scaley, heavy, inconvenient.... His eyes fix back up on Mettaton's face, impassive and unimpressed.]
There, the extent of my involvement.
[A warm, reclining body. This much he was an expert in.]
[A sigh from Emet-Selch is expected enough to be part of the pleasure. A greeting of sorts, a natural expelling of air when Mettaton takes so much of it with his presence. Another sort of surrender, as a dark violet eye drinks in the sight of his victim in a cozy puddle of black fabric.
A perfect nest. Emet-Selch's soft body underneath would emanate warmth, and the two of them would serve as the most exalted of guardians for this creature. Mettaton smiles at the sight of it: Emet-Selch collapsed on the couch, egg in his lap, his unimpressed gaze locked on the man above him as he receives the burden of Egg, like or not.
It's his lap that it definitely belongs in, Mettaton decides, as he reaches out to bunch some of that fabric up around the egg, humming in satisfaction. If this is the extent of Emet-Selch's involvement, Mettaton leans in to kiss at his hairline for his contribution.]
We'll see about that. I have a feeling that you're going to have to help me with some of the more nuanced needs of a dragon. [That Emet-Selch already said he didn't know about, because dragons are not something he is practiced in... But he does have an advantage in being a creature made of organs and whatnot, unlike Mettaton.] How to take care of this, though... Hades, there's a reason I asked for you.
[Situating himself closer with a shimmy of his hips, Mettaton scoots deeper onto the couch and closer to Emet-Selch. Working a hand aboud the Ascian's hip, his other hand moves to rest upon Emet-Selch's as he glances at the abandoned egg, not quite understanding the gravity of life that he's been entrusted with while also trying to take it steps at a time. This is, after all, a living thing- and somehow, Mettaton had dodged feeling the call to any of these dragon eggs save this one.
It wasn't as though he hadn't been hassled by many a townsfolk. He told them he was too busy. Even the Forest Witch attempted to impart her knowledge to him- and Mettaton took it about as well as he did as a single-armed robot, which was not very seriously. But this one...]
I've been told, that dragons in this world require nurturing to live... from a pair. Why, it reminds me a little of my own kind! Um, except ghosts. [Glancing away. (How are ghosts made? Not like most monsters.)] That is, it's our feelings around this egg that will help the dragon hatch from out of its shell. However. The couple who takes care of it... has the potential to share memories.
[Mettaton closes his eye with a small smile. It sounded familiar to him, this particular obstacle. (Selective hearing on his end made Mettaton overlook that only pleasant memories would be shared- only that memories could be, and that was a risk.) He squeezes Emet-Selch's hand.]
And there's nobody I'd incidentally share a memory with, other than you.
[Remaining the stretched-out lump that he was, Emet-Selch offers no resistance as Mettaton moves to improve the conditions their egg now rested in. Bunching up plentiful fabric, giving it what warmth and security that was available, the mage tolerates his new occupation as 'nest'. He huffs another breath at the kiss- and pairs it with a long-suffering look towards the taller man.]
I'm getting the same, terrible feeling.
[The egg was here, like it or not (he chose 'not'), and if its needs at this stage weren't too particular when it came to temperature, then at the end of it they might have a dragon to look after. Or he might have a dragon to look after, given that for all his lover's good intentions, and strides made when it came to understanding organic needs... there were gaps. There were gaps, and Emet-Selch didn't trust at all Mettaton's ability to not get distracted if something more interesting came along, leaving him to the tedium of childrearing....
Though he's about to ask if Mettaton knew anything about this world's dragons (were they hatching something with the intelligence of a pet/familiar/human, or something greater than that?), he's distracted as the robot scoots closer yet. As Mettaton explains what he did know about how to raise this dragon- or at least, how to get it out of its shell, and the comparison to his own people.]
Do monsters lay eggs....
[It's more of a mutter than an aside. Ghosts, of course, were an even greater mystery, and as Mettaton glances furtively away, Emet-Selch gazes upon their egg.
The threat of memory sharing, though... he wasn't surprised that Mettaton latched on to that particular detail, and he frowns deeper at it. If there was any risk of that happening at all, his lover would mean to ensure that it was only with him. And while 'not raising any egg at all' seemed to be the safest (and least troublesome) method of avoiding it- it might be too late now, if Mettaton had gotten himself attached to this thing.]
Our memories belong with one another. [He confirms; if looking after this egg with him was the way to keeping Mettaton's secure, then so be it. (He will still complain.) His gaze flits up towards the robot.] However, if this dragon is inspiring such specific intimacy, I hope our charge understands to keep our histories to itself.
[Was their egg going to be a voyeur to it all? It seemed an easy assumption to make, if its nature caused memories to bleed out in its presence. An emotional and historical blending, to prepare the lizard for the world it would hatch into.
But he squeezes Mettaton's hand back, regardless. If he had to kill their dragonling to keep Mettaton's secret safe, he wouldn't even hesitate.]
[There is very little Mettaton knows about the intelligence of the creature they sought to rear, and Mettaton doesn't think far enough ahead to anticipate one result or another. (Everything could be a pet, in Mettaton's eyes.) The question about how his people reproduce as a broad statement gets a laugh out of Mettaton, who points out the most simple of answers.]
Do you think a cat lays eggs, darling? [He sounds incredulous, but for all of the teasing tone, he knows it's still an aside of a question that comes from simply not knowing.
But that answer should suffice. Monsters... are very, very variable. And not all monsters are birds, or fish... and not all fish lay eggs?? And not all monsters lay eggs, give birth, or asexually reproduce. They may perform: none of the above. It's frankly unknowable, but feelings are definitely involved.
He drops it, simple as that. For the third time he scoots closer to Emet-Selch as though it were possible to do in their current position, as he drapes his wrists over each of Emet-Selch's shoulders and laces his fingertips behind his neck. The robot hovers over their charge, hip sidled as neatly against Emet-Selch, and as close to boot. If the powers of this dragon made it so that their memories were blended, it only made sense that the dragon itself would experience their thoughts as well...
A consideration that Mettaton hums to, as he silently decides (optimistically) that the dragon had either better be on the level of a pet, or should understand the gravity of his own memories and thoughts and safeguard them as Emet-Selch does. And the other truth he knew: Emet-Selch would make sure their secrets remain secrets. That he would kill this dragonling to guard him, Mettaton didn't doubt, nor did he presently mind. All in all, Emet-Selch's reply to him is satisfying. Their memories do belong in one another's hands.]
There's nowhere I'd rather trust myself, than with you. [Spoken lowly, as Mettaton leans in enough to nearly graze the sturdy shell of the egg with his body.] There are other things about raising this egg... but I think the basics have been covered.
[He smiles. No more explaining. Eggsplaining. That it wants for quieter surrounds, or that it'll soak in its ambient emotions, those were all collateral. They are the acting parents now, and whatever happens, happens. If anything, Mettaton does feel the satisfaction at working together with Emet-Selch on a project for the long-haul, reminding him somewhat of the mutual effort it takes to strengthen their Bond, to deepen its magical entwining.
Speaking of entwining, Mettaton decides to change his position. Keeping his wrists draped over Emet-Selch's shoulders, Mettaton heaves the rest of his body gently up and off of the couch before maneuvering his long legs onto the cushion. Nudging the shape of Emet-Selch's closest leg, he knows the Ascian will be easy to coax to spread, which is where Mettaton decides to make his new home: between his legs, spread, so that he can hover over egg and husband.]
As long as we keep it close, our natural inclination toward each other should be all it needs to be nurtured to hatching. And that... is something the townspeople impressed upon me, is more than appreciated. They seem to really care about their dragon population!
[Mettaton could tell how much this meant to them, especially because they were willing to pay him. He also accepted the offer for free food, because Emet-Selch would appreciate that! He loves free food! The townspeople didn't bat an eye when he accepted it, either, which was also appreciated. No judgements were passed about the robot wanting food. Overall, though, with a life that needed only the ambient affection around it to be nurtured... He felt assured that they could not only do it, but yield a good result. Anything unexpected about the process would be experienced with Emet-Selch by his side.
Mettaton settles close. One of his hands moves down to adjust his lover's vast robes so that he's not sitting on them, hiking them up and around his body, especially so that he can shift his knees beneath the smaller man's thighs and shimmy his way up close to his body. Hovering close, his arms are returned to Emet-Selch's shoulders.]
[Mettaton's tease about cats gets him a flat look and a shrug, but he doesn't argue it. How would he know how monsters reproduced? He still didn't know, and didn't particularly care, given that it wasn't relevant to anything. Beyond being made of magic, variable in appearance, and delicate when it came to violence or malice, he didn't know that much about monsterkind. Eggs made as much sense as anything.
But fine, no eggs. None but the one between them, sourced from an absent dragonparent (Were they counting on the townsfolk to help, having learned from prior experience that this was an easier way of getting someone to do the work for them?). That they would look after, so long as it remained no threat to identity or memory.
Hopefully the egg wouldn't realize or care that its death was entirely on the table should it misbehave. Emet-Selch didn't bear it any active ill-will, but the promise was there, silent between them. But was that not a form of love too, for it to appreciate? The protectiveness that coursed between them, ever simmering.
Mettaton slips partially over the smaller man's body, nudging metal against scaly shell. The mage's voice lowers with his, as he feels arms rest about his shoulders. His own hands brush against the robot's sides.]
Do the other things involve more hassle for me, by any chance? If so, keep them to yourself indefinitely.
[This was enough of a burden for one day. Burden: getting an egg placed on him. And a robot too, if Mettaton's increasing efforts to encroach on him were anything to go by. But his legs do spread for him, easily, naturally. Out of habit and willingness both, he welcomes Mettaton between them. The couch wasn't an infinite space, and one of his legs ends up dangling off the edge, but that was fine.
Though he makes a small sound of protest when Mettaton abruptly shifts, hiking up the mage's voluminous robes without so much as a warning. His legs would get cold now... even if this meant the other man wouldn't be pulling at the fabric by kneeling on top of it. Emet-Selch merely frowns his disapproval (he was already frowning). His eyes briefly close as he affects another sigh, squeezing the robot between his legs.]
Then be careful not to crush it. Especially not against me.
[Somewhere else was fine. Though once he discovered that Mettaton was getting paid for this, he would snort. Of course there would be more to it than merely doing it out of the kindness of his heart... though Emet-Selch wouldn't turn down the free food.]
Did they tell you how long we have to wait before our natural inclination towards each other has had the desired effect?
[MTT would have to agree that it was a form of love indeed, to know that someone would die should the threat of exposure come into being. The robot smiles fondly down at the smaller man, their silent acknowledgement something worth a heady smille, a simmering ardor in itself... And Emet-Selch always invites kisses just by existing, he thought. It's not that Mettaton resists in the moment, but that he has other things to tend to.
Like the movement of robes, and the situation of his own body between Emet-Selch's legs. The couch isn't one the idol shopped for and it is quite small, if an average-sized couch by most standards. To them, it's small, and Emet-Selch makes room for his larger husband by readily spreading his thighs. As a result, his leg's made to go off the edge. It was only natural that Mettaton would hike up the plentiful fabric, especially because this creates even more of a nest at his lap.
The robot grins.]
It's hard, Hades-dearest. To avoid crushing you.
[Because he was so satisfying to press against, to deposit the full of his weight as firmly as possible against him. His body can take it, and the smaller man was a delight to feel underneath him, for every shift of his body and every change of it besides... Mettaton sighs as he settles, curling around the egg as he arches around his husband, setting nicely between spread legs. Stradling him, half-way to scooping him into his lap, Mettaton hums comfortably.]
Now that you mention it... No, nobody's told me how long. Two weeks, to a month?
[As Mettaton generates... snail trivia, and ascribes it to a dragon. He blinks doown at the shell and flashes Emet-Selch a smile, deciding that his answer should suffice, as that's how long a snail hatches so why not a dragon? It doesn't matter; Mettaton waves it off.]
I'm sure we can look into it. Maybe at the library. [No, he hasn't tried yet, and will likely hear from someone who has before he meets failure.] For now, we just need to focus on each other, right? If affection and cuddling is key, we've a lot of that between us, you and I. Hmm...
[Natural inclination indeed... Mettaton squirms closer, wrapping his arms around Emet-Selch starting from around his chest after tucking his hands underneath Emet-Selch's arms. His hands wander to meet squarely in the middle of his back, and the robot finds himself a spot secured between legs, warmly cradling that egg between their bodies. ...Of course, every so often Mettaton's body collides with its sturdy shell, and a soft impact's made, but it'll be fine.]
... I was thinking, Hades. About our future here, and what we want together. I'd just been at the Crystal, before I fell in this business about dragons and egg-rearing. [His smile sobers slightly, but his eye remains bright with hope and love.] So I wanted first to share this with you.
[Whatever the origin, love was evident between them, whether it was delivered through fond looks or more dubious ones. It was all affectionate, devoted. Emet-Selch sighs a comment with a small shake of his head.]
I'm used to your crushing. Your egg, however, is not.
[Though it seemed sturdy enough from his minor examination of it, that it probably wouldn't shatter if dropped. Even so, Mettaton was a heavy robot with reduced sensitivity besides... but it seemed fine for the moment, with the taller man curling around their incubating pet, and otherwise pressing himself firmly against the Ascian's body. Not crushing yet, but with a solidity he did enjoy, and something he latches onto, encouraging this way of being handled, scooped close. Making the best use they could of this insufficient couch (most couches they'd owned had been insufficient).
And while he doesn't question verbally this 'two weeks to a month' concept, Emet-Selch does raise an eyebrow at it, considering that Mettaton had just said that no one had told him. A number pulled out of nowhere (he doesn't even consider snail knowledge as the origin for this number, as what did snails have to do with dragons).
But he shrugs again as Mettaton waves it off; it didn't really matter, at this stage, whether it was a week or a year... though if it grew to take too long, he'd be inclined to toss the egg out as defective (another small threat towards the developing lizard, a warning not to languish within shell-secured comforts). If there was information to be gained somewhere, it could be gained at some other time.
Humming a quiet affirmation (though the inclination struck to argue, or to complain over the trouble all this Mettaton-company would be, that he'd never get a break or know peace again), he wraps his own arms around him as much as he could. A return of that embrace, and if Mettaton occasionally knocked into scaly shell, it was something the egg would have to learn to get used to. If it wanted to share in their cuddles, this would be the least of what it would have to endure. And when Mettaton speaks again, that line of reply takes priority anyway.]
The Crystal isn't like to answer anyone's questions- and rarely, anyone's prayers. [Where Mettaton sobers, Emet-Selch glances aside; what was their future here? Their prior worlds together held the same question, and with no good answer being any more forthcoming.
There was only the more short-term future, an improvement of their conditions.] And now, we have an egg to look after to distract us.
[The egg would either resist Mettaton's particular crushing, or it would learn to. Mettaton is sure of this, and seems unconcerned about hovering over it, especially as he's busy encroaching on his husband little by little. Surely, this cuddling business would be beneficial to all three of them, knowing what he knows.
The raised eyebrow earns a reply from Mettaton, who quirks an eyebrow at Emet-Selch right back. A teasing tug at the corner of his lip and an affectionate handsing, as Mettaton gropes at Emet-Selch's back.]
Don't give me that look. It'll take as long as it likes... and possibly longer, with you as the father!
[If Emet-Selch were a baby dragon in an eggshell, Mettaton imagines he'd really languish in there for as long as possible. Psychically, this is Mettaton's reply to any moment Emet-Selch demanded the dragon hurry up and hatch, lest he toss it out and consider it defective. The rotton egg effect is just a tired dragon and a tired Emet-Selch, MTT would argue, as for some reason he's the only one to demand that anyone do any hurrying.
It's playfully said, as he knows he'll want to know at some point the definitive answer. Maybe some of the other Dreamers would know how long it takes to incubate a dragon egg. It was a problem for future Mettaton.
Present Mettaton is pleased to have his lover's arms around him, and he wriggles into his arms. Of course, the egg is made to endure more tapping and bouncing of one unyielding surface against its own, whether it's glass or metal or silicone-around-metal.
Though sobered, it's only far enough to discuss a line of thinking determined rather than anything grave, and Mettaton sighs at Emet-Selch's pessimism.]
Oh, I know it. I was just Crystal-side, asking for all kinds of stuff, to see what I might get it to spit out! [Shaking his head, it's obvious that the Crystal didn't answer a single query. A quick glance to the bedroom, though, and...] Hmm... Nope. It didn't give me another body to transfer into. No gifts waiting for me on my pillow, the way my wedding ring waited for me. And unless you feel particularly powerful all of a sudden... I don't think it answered a single desire of mine today. It's particular! And cruel. Apparently, I'm not rich enough still...
[Oh, to be poor. Dramatically, Mettaton's head hangs. This egg was a distraction, but not really, as Mettaton was always forward-thinking while living in the present. But this is where Mettaton lifts his head with a grin, snuggling so close that the egg is well-pressed against any plane of his body it can be pressed to.]
But. Is there a rule where we can't wish for something together, you and I...? If we pool together our shards, and unite our hearts... couldn't we wish for anything? An upgraded body, for me? Your powers, for you? ... A business license?
[Emet-Selch would counter that an egg couldn't learn to resist anything, it would simply be crushed- but then, if it couldn't handle a bit of roughness here and there, then it was better for it to be cracked open now, so they could be done with it. More pressing than the topic of crushing, though, was Mettaton's next tease. His look flattens, even while the robot's hands explore his back, and if it wouldn't have meant unhanding him himself, he would've waved the idea off.]
Of all the thousands of offspring I've sired in my time, a dragon was never amongst them. Something like that, I would have remembered.
[He was not the father, and he would not be blamed for any slow-hatching reptiles. The threat remained. For the future.
For the now, though: the result of Mettaton's recent Crystal visit. A result of nothing, as expected, his lover's persistence and charm not something that would be effective on every entity. But Emet-Selch hadn't had any hopes left to raise, nor dash. And yet he felt a small bit disappointed nonetheless.]
So neither of us are enhanced, [He confirms, as his hand absently strokes along Mettaton's side.] nor recovered to what we're meant to be. Our pleas are, as of yet, unheeded.
[As he'd asked the Crystal himself, recently... to no better effect. No additional functionalities for his husband; no greater powers for himself. They were poor.
But for Mettaton's dramatic dismay-and-recovery, what would've been a look of mild commiseration turns into something thoughtful and skeptical both.
Unlike in Aefenglom, where Emet-Selch had mooched and then lived off a sizeable payment for being tortured, here he was mooching and... sort of, occasionally, doing something here and there. For money. It wasn't as though he were against work, or effort, only things that were dull (and the past month he hadn't done much of anything beyond cough up flowers). But he wouldn't leave Mettaton to save up on his own- at least, not when the goals were something they both wanted.
So he wasn't entirely without resources himself. But to ask together... the mage still frowns, looking aside again.]
If there's a rule against cooperation, 'tis not one written anywhere we can read it. But even should we collect our shards together, it won't obtain us everything.
[His hand twitches.]
--And should I find myself suddenly bankrupted for the sake of your business license I'll- [Not be able to do anything about it. Which deflates him slightly.] ...be less willing to humor your suggestions again.
[He's not siring any dragons, but Mettaton has decided that they are Eggnant With Dragon, and that means they're sharing parental responsibilities, such as being fathers. But if it dawdled, Mettaton would definitely blame it on Emet-Selch—especially as he grows to understand better the psychic connection it really has with the two closest by.
He could feel the dismissal, though, and that was okay by Mettaton. He continues to lean in, and continues to scrape against the egg, pressing it into Emet-Selch's soft abdomen. The egg handles this abuse like a champ, showing no signs of disruption, its sturdy exterior built for large, scaly parents. It would resist much of Mettaton.
The egg could simply sit there and remain audience to the couple's Crystalline considerations, as Emet-Selch ponders Mettaton's suggestion with an edge of doubt. And Mettaton beams, reassured by Emet-Selch's... agreement, as it could be put.]
I'm so glad you agree! [That there didn't seem to be a rule against wishing together. Mettaton rubs and pats Emet-Selch's back, squirming ever closer.] I can't think of something we CAN'T obtain, with our combined work. Short of our actual wishes, perhaps... as I can't imagine Vaeros would let us redeem that with shards. He'd have nothing to lord over us, that way.
[And even without asking, Mettaton knew what Emet-Selch's wish would be. He knew what Emet-Selch would wish for at the bottom of his heart... ...The fact of the matter is, that Mettaton could have wished for exactly the same thing as his husband. He didn't. He knows he didn't, but he doesn't regret his own wish, even when he knows it's more self-serving. He could obtain his own dreams, while still dreaming up solutions to Emet-Selch's.
But back to the matter of wishes and wants, Mettaton gives Emet-Selch a sultry look, a lowering of his lashes as he flutters them charmingly.]
Come on now, Hades. A business license means the production of... more shards! If I start up my brand here, I can better use my talents to make it big, and make money off of any idea I can dream! [Even the worst ones. Mettaton slips so close that it could very well wind Emet-Selch, with how firmly that egg is being forced into him. The only one who would be crushed here is Emet-Selch, under robot and dragon (egg).] I want to tell you my first idea, and I'll grow my business from there. An entertainment venue!! A better one than that horrendous bar they have here, and one glamorous enough to make even the audience feel like part of the spectacle!
[Mettaton smiles, eye bright and body wound tight enough to pounce, either on Emet-Selch or his dream. Both, at the same time, especially if he could rope the smaller man into helping him fund the endeavor.]
Like my restaurant-resort!! A stage... exclusive seating. Reservations. Fabulous food, and delightful wait staff. A fountain, featuring me... And a daily lineup of performers! It would be an outlet for those who wish for entertainment, and those who wish to entertain!
[From large, scaly parents, to one squishy and one metallic. But with little concern in him for the egg's fate (and that it did seem to be holding up well against this bit of jostling... if anything, it would be his own body to give way first), and even less desire to pretend to be a parent to anything, ever again, he lets it drop for now.
Any amount of shard-gathering wouldn't buy for them their true wishes- he assumed that much. Emet-Selch still didn't believe their true wishes would be granted anyway, and whether it was due to lack of capacity or willingness, he didn't care. The result would be the same. But as for buying something smaller together, yes... he thought it might be allowed. Though Mettaton's enthusiastic response only raised his suspicion- and the way he was looked at did nothing to ease it, his sultry look meeting an impassive stare.
More pertinent now were Mettaton's business plans, and while he had nothing against the idol finding some way to spend the time (and potentially produce shards), he was far less certain over his own precious shard-collection being devoted to this venture. And his chance of cooperation dwindled the more the robot described, as he imagined Mettaton emptying his accounts for the sake of purchasing a series of Mettaton-shaped fountains....
His sour look is interrupted by something of a grimace though, as Mettaton seemed determined most of all to lodge this egg inside him in some crude, unpleasant way. Though he tries to squirm to adjust his position somewhat and escape this fate, he's too tightly held down to succeed. The discomfort does nothing to improve his willingness to concede anything to him.]
If that's- your aim, you're not getting a lone shard from me.
[From holding onto him, his hands push at Mettaton's chest, wanting most of all to not be crushed by enthusiasm/egg.]
[Emet-Selch's hands round his back to press firmly against his chest, and Mettaton obeys their direction far enough to quit pushing the egg into Emet-Selch's soft middle. His eye blows wide with surprise, as though he hadn't foreseen such a severe rejection out of Emet-Selch.
And then he pouts.]
Waste? You don't like my idea?
[Brow furrowing, Mettaton settles back just slightly enough that at least Emet-Selch isn't being crushed under him/egg. His arms remain slung around his back, and Mettaton clings fast to him, even though he's settled slightly back now.]
I thought it was a fabulous idea! Then, what sort of establishment would you be willing to finance?
[Mettaton is flexible, as he overlooks the fact that it's perhaps the mention of a hypothetical MTT fountain that is what has Emet-Selch ticked. That seems a small detail to him, that would just come as part of the parcel deal- or perhaps something he'd angle for in future, as he refines his vision. With, or without, Emet-Selch's help.
Scooting close, nudging Emet-Selch's thighs well onto his lap, Mettaton gazes at Emet-Selch's face, soaking in his drawn features. Flattening his palms against his back, the robot leans over the egg again, curling around it rather than pressing into it.]
I'm about making profit, so we no longer have to perform odd tasks around town for our keep. And if you'd do it with me... I'd want it to be something you agree to.
[Plus any additional things Mettaton sneaks in there, or otherwise adds on... The idea of stuffing his wait staff into silly costumes, for example, is not something that is stated. There are all kinds of horrors to behold. A labyrinth, outside of the labyrinth... of Bad Decisions.]
[Though he exhales a small relief when Mettaton finally shifts upward, and the solidity of the dragon egg is no longer being leveraged into him, it's not enough to remove his exasperation when the robot persists in all else. When this idea seems to have been premeditated and not something entirely spur of the moment- which doesn't actually persuade him as to its viability or sense.
If anything, he's more put out that Mettaton had apparently been planning to ambush him with this, rather than wanting his shards for anything useful.]
None, I'm not financing any establishment. Where did you even get the insane idea that I would--
[Not now, at least, when it seemed to him that there were far more crucial things to obtain first. Things that actually mattered, rather than a business, which could be done later, if at all (and still without his backing).]
Especially when you say it as though my agreement is already a concession on your part, rather than a baseline. [Even without knowing what Bad Decisions lay just beyond Mettaton's presentation of the idea, he was ready to refuse the concept outright. And the closer the robot scooted, the more he tensed, waiting for the discomfort of an egg being lodged back in his abdomen.] I've better things to do than indulge your whims.
[It could be done later, and is entirely behind the other things they prioritize. But it doesn't stop Mettaton from thinking about it, from talking about it... And from blabbing about his ideas to Emet-Selch rather than holding onto them until they could be center stage. (Besides, Emet-Selch getting his powers first felt like a priority compared to a business, because they could come in ever so much help!)
But it wasn't the first thing he wanted Emet-Selch's help in, as there were other things to finance. Mettaton smiles, sinking comfortably into his spot. The egg gets more of his weight, but it's not so much that it's dug into the Ascian beneath this time.]
Such a shame. I was looking forward to it! [To his help; to his input. He really was, and he decides it's still not a lost cause when he shrugs.] We'll see how you feel later. When you don't have better things to do. Such as... team up with me to alter my body, and regain your powers. You'll still do that, hmm?
[Mettaton has decided that Emet-Selch's exasperation could be addressed directly. He doesn't view even his shard-and-fame-generating ventures to take precedence over these two important tasks- which he would see to, with or without Emet-Selch's help.
Withdrawing one hand from his back, Mettaton reaches for Emet-Selch's fingers. He weaves four digits in with five, sure that they were together on these ventures to start. From there, he could see if Emet-Selch was willing to work with him- and even then, the idol would see his own desires to fruition on his own. (He still had other business ideas, though, and would gladly air them out.)]
[A nearness he only tolerates, still sore, still waiting for a careless shift to displace organs with eggs, doing nothing to encourage the contact. And though he permits Mettaton his hand, he doesn't return his grasp, and only stares at him. Warily, humorlessly.]
Given that your first impulse was to detail some nonsensical business plan, with all else a distant consideration, [As he readily assumes that this was Mettaton's priority, given that it was what he immediately pressed on, after putting out the idea of combining their shards.] no. I won't have you become distracted or change your mind half-way through the request, wasting all I've collected.
[Which was even assuming that shards could be pooled, which was in itself an assumption... and with no feedback from the Crystal itself likely, would a failure mean it wasn't possible, or just that there wasn't enough, even combined? But it didn't matter, in the end; he'd expected to do this on his own, and that hadn't changed. He was just more annoyed over it.]
What?! So you won't collaborate with me, even for that...
[Even for their powers/body, he means, though it goes unsaid. Mettaton's lips part in surprise, as he felt it would be an obvious yes to work together to get something they both really wanted... as if he would change his mind half-way through due to distraction?! Freeing up his hand, he points an accusatory finger Emet-Selch's way.]
Just how little do you think I want all of the things... we've already gone over time and time again? You can't possibly forget just because I introduce a new idea to you. [Insulting! Did Emet-Selch think Mettaton had the attention span of a gnat?? (And so what if he did sometimes, the things he had little attention for warranted it. None of these three things were that!)] I'm just thinking ahead, about ways to earn more shards, faster! Work smarter. Not harder! My business plan is for the future, Hades, darling.
[Smarter, which was... with his own business! Then he'd be ROLLING in shards. But he would have to agree that the biggest priority, especially with Emet-Selch's help, would be getting the two things they want most—and then finding ways to gain riches. And fame, on the side.
Dropping his finger, Mettaton settles his hand on Emet-Selch's middle, at the base of the egg and gently upon his middle. Tempering, he blinks slowly at the mage.]
You should know. My priority is us. Your powers, and my body. Do you really think I can be distracted from that...? And what matters to you, matters to me.
[Time and again they had gone over it- painfully, even. With difficulty. So he felt offended by this change in direction, as though none of it had mattered after all, where those feelings had just been a show. Being told that Mettaton would rather spend his effort opening a business stung, as if all that distress hadn't actually been so deeply felt after all. Even if it was for the supposed purpose of earning more shards, he didn't believe it.
(Having a dragon egg literally dropped in his lap and informed that he was going to look after it didn't help his mood either. He was Done when it came to surprises, to new hassles being sprung on him.)
Mettaton points at him, and the mage's eyes narrow.]
How have I forgotten, when you want it so little that you'll promptly discard everything in favor of whatever new plaything next occurs to you!
[He snaps back, irate, bristling underneath him. He didn't want to explain why he thought it was a poor idea to do first, because that implied that he could be convinced otherwise, were his concerns countered... and he was in no mood to be convinced of anything.]
Your priority is whatever avenue gets you attention. [From heated, his voice chills, looking aside with a disgusted sound.] I don't know why I expected it to be anything else.
Just how have I given you the impression, that I want it very little? Because I mentioned anything else?
[Mettaton's not snapping, even though he's quick to reply, his retort passionate and direct. Tension still works its way through his body, as he braces the dragon's egg against himself, pressing his hand against Emet-Selch's middle as he keeps his seat on the couch. He'd claim Emet-Selch's flaring temper didn't make sense—but it did, and Mettaton begins to regret mentioning his thoughts at all, even though he wanted to share them, even if they wandered toward what-ifs and could-bes.
He closes his eye and takes a breath. Shaking his head, he opens his eye and fixes his attention on Emet-Selch levelly, softly.]
... You know I'm also going to do what it takes to continue to pursue my own dreams, in the long run. I just thought to tell you about it. [To... hassle Emet-Selch into contributing—and even Mettaton knew, at least in retrospect, that it wasn't called for right now. He glances down at the egg in their laps, then up to Emet-Selch.] I've discarded nothing, Hades. You know that.
[Mettaton cants his head, opening his eye and meeting Emet-Selch's gaze, no matter how chilled, with the openness of his heart—and the determination of his course. Confident, he knew what mattered most to himself, and what ways he'd entertained getting there.]
Not a shard is going to be spent in the direction of my venue, nor my business... until you and I are more comfortable. You don't really, truly think I'm so fickle?
Yes, because you brought it up- just as you always do when you want something.
[He's just as quick to reply, and it is snapping, sharp. Though he holds still in his place on the couch, there's no settling, no relaxing. He felt aggrieved, and in no temper to let go of it. This had been no different than any other time Mettaton flirted and cajoled him into doing something for him; he didn't believe that it'd been intended for the future.
Did he know that Mettaton hadn't discarded their original goal? Did he think he was that fickle? Silence hangs after that question, silence an answer in itself. Even if Mettaton claimed that nothing would be used on his business just yet, was that only because he'd received a verbal pushback from him, with his original intent laying elsewhere? The Ascian stares fixedly aside, ignoring his gaze; it didn't matter, ultimately. He wasn't going to help now, and he'd do what it took on his own to get back what he wanted. His tone cools more into deliberate idleness.]
Pursue whatever you wish. Consider me informed.
[In possibly the worst way possible, but he was now informed, just as he'd been told he was going to raise a dragon.]
Unless there was more that you wished to drop on my lap?
[It was true. He had wanted Emet-Selch to hear it—to not concede, as he expected, but to hear it. Strategically, Mettaton knew it would come up again when times improved for them—and then, could he get Emet-Selch to allocate some of his shards toward his cause? It's strategic, in its way. Deceptive, underhanded, and it's something Mettaton does with Emet-Selch often... but it was one too many proposals, too many unexpected launches, for him to handle, he realizes by casting a look down to the egg.
Mettaton chews on his lip. It had been intended for the future, but he can tell Emet-Selch still believes he'd been attempting to talk him into now. No, that hadn't been the intent, unless the Ascian had somehow suggested they go through with it quicker... to which he'd have to endure some of Mettaton's questioning about their current priorities—and who knows how that conversation would've gone. Similarly explosive?
Emet-Selch: informed. Indeed, in possibly the worst of ways, he realizes. Mettaton decides that's that, best as it can be. His business ventures would wait; the egg somehow takes priority over even that, somehow. Because Mettaton had felt drawn; because Mettaton had felt impacted by its plight. He still does.
Bracing the egg further against his body, Mettaton shifts some of his weight onto the back of the couch while he watches Emet-Selch. He ddn't think they had to split their efforts all due to this misunderstanding, but he decides not to press on it for now. Until he felt ready to try at the Crystal for keeps—but the desire to try with his husband's help is similarly known.
He shakes his head, gaze squarely on Emet-Selch.]
That's it! The product of my thinking for the day... And this.
[This, the egg, which took even Mettaton by surprise. Emet-Selch hadn't quite agreed to taking care of it, but Mettaton still believes Emet-Selch would be on board—because he needed the help, and he trusted Emet-Selch most of all with help like this, and he'd more-or-less suggested that he would be the best to help. Without doubt he decides Emet-Selch's on board with this, and to that, Mettatn feels pleased.
Smoothing a hand carefully over the egg's surface just to soak in the texture of its grooves, Mettaton continues lays his head over the back of the couch, cheek against fabric.]
Otherwise... I wanted to see you. To spend time with you. If that counts as dropping something on your lap. [Having his requests continuously unanswered, Mettaton was also the sort to seek out comfortable company—and Emet-Selch is always his go-to.]
[Had their other goals been accomplished, and Mettaton approached him with this, would his reaction have been different? Probably, he accepted. He still might not have helped, not immediately, but the concept of Mettaton running an entertainment venue wasn't anything he was opposed to (even now, he wasn't opposed to its existence, only the idea that it had to happen immediately- and he still believed the idol had intended to cajole him into it straight away). But after their greater needs were taken care of... what use was hoarding shards, to him?
Now, though, Emet-Selch was primed to refuse entirely- not only for the present, but for the next time it was brought up. Whatever Mettaton wanted to create, it could be done without his input- both monetarily, and otherwise.
There only remained the hassle of this egg, and the life it contained... and if it were truly sensitive to the emotions around it, then it was getting its first taste of what life in this household would be like. Not the most comforting or welcoming of atmospheres... and if it decided to give up and remain in its shell for good, Emet-Selch would hardly blame it.
But he'd accepted- or otherwise resigned himself- to the immediate future of egg-incubating, which as far as he could tell involved doing nothing more than what he was already doing: being warm, holding still. All else- including his determination to keep their efforts split, just as they'd been to start with, could wait. His patience was gone, used up for the day. His eyes close, as he rests the back of his head against the arm of the couch, and sighs.]
You see me every day, Mettaton. We spend no little amount of time together.
[Which he'll phrase as though it were a burden... which was in line with how he would normally present it, even when he wanted the company.]
[And they lived together. But they lived together because he loves him, of course, and trusted him with anything he was. Mettaton settles against the couch, one arm still loosely around Emet-Selch's waist and up his back, while the other arm ropes itself loosely around the egg with a clang of shell-against-metal. It's a rigid shell, that's for sure.
That said, he cozies himself up onto the couch between Emet-Selch's legs, adjusting his own beneath his thighs. A shift of them is like an embrace of them, as he draws them closer together, pressing his thighs against the smaller man. His fingers knit themselves into the dark fabric of Emet-Selch's flowing robes, a gentle fisting of it.]
And I was feeling a little... wistful. So I thought about you, and wanted to be with you.
[Wishing, to no avail, left him feeling bereft of the things he wanted. So he thought; he dreamed up future scenarios, including that future endeavor to liven this place up. He didn't mind considering this place home for now if Emet-Selch was with him, and even thinking that way had him wanting the Ascian's company. Daily tasks could be put on hold for the sake of returning home...
And then there was the egg he'd been persuaded, and drawn, to take. Another reason to introduce his charge to Emet-Selch, another thing to show him and tell him. All of which the Ascian wasn't like to take well, as Emet-Selch rarely did, even though it surprises Mettaton in some way how poorly he'd taken his idea. Even if Emet-Selch never wanted part in his business endeavors, he hoped he could still ask him to cooperate with him on wishing for what they desired.
But those were thoughts he could touch upon another day, when Emet-Selch's patience had evidently replenished. He could see it in him- in the draw of his brow, or the particular cant of his sigh. Maybe even the way his eyes close. Mettaton could see it, and knew better than to push his patience if he lacked it.
That the egg was being subjected to this turmoil as a first impression is something he's only distantly aware of. This is just what it would have to weather, if it were to be part of their unit.]
I still wish that I could put this electricity we have to some more use. Such as, with a TV! Then we could watch something together... [Which sounded nice to him, sitting on this couch.]
[He answers blandly. Of course, they lived together because they liked to see each other, and because they were in love. That much he knew, and where he doesn't respond to Mettaton's shifts and squirms, his own body a prop for an embrace, and nest for a dragon, he doesn't try to escape the couch either. Annoyed still, but calmer now, he sighs more quietly. Wistful... a mood he was familiar with, and on this star, who else was there to turn to?
Emet-Selch did not consider this place, this world, any sort of 'home'. Not in the short term, and not in the long term. Its welfare was irrelevant to him, and all that mattered was surviving it (and regaining what shouldn't have been taken from them in the first place). Where to go from there was its own problem.
For now, there was navigating what each month strove to throw at them, which at this point included an egg that Mettaton had decided to get attached to. (Emet-Selch didn't think anything of his lover being 'drawn' to this charge, that he'd picked it up for reasons other than whim, on finding one that suited his aesthetics.) An egg that was an awkward lump between them, of similar durability to Mettaton, it seemed; the mage would be the only one to give way, between them.
Not that he was currently being crushed. Not even figuratively, with Mettaton relenting on any attempt to convince him of anything right now. Instead he felt a degree of tension only, agitation always slow to settle, even when it wasn't being provoked.]
Add it to the list of things to plead for. [His voice is a lazy rumble; the way he waves it off, similarly languid.] Along with something to watch....
[Cozying up to a blank screen didn't sound very entertaining... but he wasn't rejecting the idea. It did sound nice.]
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[If he weren't holding the phone he'd be crossing his arms, in demonstrable protest. It would be invisible anyway, given that this is all text, but the aura is there in his reply. Compassion and care... if this egg truly could read his mood, then it should be kept far away from him and his apathy and depression both.
He does briefly consider absconding. Putting off the inevitable. But that would take removing himself from the couch he was sprawled onto. Emet-Selch looks around, but no spur of energy was in sight. Exhaling heavily, he sinks back into the cushions, head resting against the arm of the couch. Slowly types his reply.]
I should take you apart one of these days. Perhaps something in there has merely shaken loose.
[Not that he thought anything was broken, or that he could restore any of those missing features given the lack of parts available on this world, and his inability to create anything.
But he missed that warming ability too, small as it was in the scheme of things.]
I dread finding out where you're planning to place it. But not so much to leave. Yes, I'm around. Not far from where you left me this morning.
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You can save taking me apart for another day, when we're feeling kinky. ❤️ I'll be overjoyed to oblige...
[Without argument, Mettaton knows that this was a job for the two of them, if he was going to task himself with it at all. And he feels determined to help, another purpose added to his myriad of other purposes Mettaton found it easy to collect even in foreign worlds.
The robot barges into his own home. He often does this, and it always feels like barging, as he throws the door open dramatically. From the doorway- and even though he could simply glance to the side, as it's not as though the house is large, and that the sofa is far from the entryway- he calls out foor Emet-Selch.]
Yoo-hoo! Hades? Ah. There you are. You did move!
[Which is to say, that he moved from one room to another. From bed, to couch. Mettaton practically skips to his side, heels moving from the click of wood to the dampening of an area rug that still needs replacing. (There are a lot of decor options that still need replacing, as Mettaton's ability to gain income was only so swift, and he meticulously balances where he ought to allocate his shards given its limitations.) And there, he forces himself a seat on the couch.
If Emet-Selch is reclining, Mettaton merely scoots his butt at the edge of the sofa until he can crowd the smaller man back. This is how it is. There is no boundary between lovers. In his arms is an egg, about the size of a bowling ball cradled against metal.
And there, it is placed in Emet-Selch's lap. Mettaton knows that is a warm spot to die for, and the fondness on his face is paired with a tongue sticking out from his lips in determined focus. He knows what to do.]
There. Warmth, AND our doting care.
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It always did feel like barging, or a break-in, the robot determined to make an entrance no matter the modesty of his surroundings, or an audience lackluster. Emet-Selch doesn't even react to the sound, expected as it was, though a heavy sigh is Mettaton's response to the greeting. A normal response, from him.
He also doesn't move from his position on the couch, taking up the whole thing, spread along its length and spilling over- as this wasn't a couch intended for nearly seven-foot anything. Accommodating black robes similarly drape over everything, even the floor. Nearly sighing another time as Mettaton forces a seat beside him, this manner of crowding was just as familiar to him; more unusual was this delivery made onto his lap.
Frowning down at the large egg, that seemed even more glittery in person, he grudgingly reaches out to nudge it, the fabric of his robes underneath it making an impromptu nest out of the whole thing. Scaley, heavy, inconvenient.... His eyes fix back up on Mettaton's face, impassive and unimpressed.]
There, the extent of my involvement.
[A warm, reclining body. This much he was an expert in.]
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A perfect nest. Emet-Selch's soft body underneath would emanate warmth, and the two of them would serve as the most exalted of guardians for this creature. Mettaton smiles at the sight of it: Emet-Selch collapsed on the couch, egg in his lap, his unimpressed gaze locked on the man above him as he receives the burden of Egg, like or not.
It's his lap that it definitely belongs in, Mettaton decides, as he reaches out to bunch some of that fabric up around the egg, humming in satisfaction. If this is the extent of Emet-Selch's involvement, Mettaton leans in to kiss at his hairline for his contribution.]
We'll see about that. I have a feeling that you're going to have to help me with some of the more nuanced needs of a dragon. [That Emet-Selch already said he didn't know about, because dragons are not something he is practiced in... But he does have an advantage in being a creature made of organs and whatnot, unlike Mettaton.] How to take care of this, though... Hades, there's a reason I asked for you.
[Situating himself closer with a shimmy of his hips, Mettaton scoots deeper onto the couch and closer to Emet-Selch. Working a hand aboud the Ascian's hip, his other hand moves to rest upon Emet-Selch's as he glances at the abandoned egg, not quite understanding the gravity of life that he's been entrusted with while also trying to take it steps at a time. This is, after all, a living thing- and somehow, Mettaton had dodged feeling the call to any of these dragon eggs save this one.
It wasn't as though he hadn't been hassled by many a townsfolk. He told them he was too busy. Even the Forest Witch attempted to impart her knowledge to him- and Mettaton took it about as well as he did as a single-armed robot, which was not very seriously. But this one...]
I've been told, that dragons in this world require nurturing to live... from a pair. Why, it reminds me a little of my own kind! Um, except ghosts. [Glancing away. (How are ghosts made? Not like most monsters.)] That is, it's our feelings around this egg that will help the dragon hatch from out of its shell. However. The couple who takes care of it... has the potential to share memories.
[Mettaton closes his eye with a small smile. It sounded familiar to him, this particular obstacle. (Selective hearing on his end made Mettaton overlook that only pleasant memories would be shared- only that memories could be, and that was a risk.) He squeezes Emet-Selch's hand.]
And there's nobody I'd incidentally share a memory with, other than you.
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I'm getting the same, terrible feeling.
[The egg was here, like it or not (he chose 'not'), and if its needs at this stage weren't too particular when it came to temperature, then at the end of it they might have a dragon to look after. Or he might have a dragon to look after, given that for all his lover's good intentions, and strides made when it came to understanding organic needs... there were gaps. There were gaps, and Emet-Selch didn't trust at all Mettaton's ability to not get distracted if something more interesting came along, leaving him to the tedium of childrearing....
Though he's about to ask if Mettaton knew anything about this world's dragons (were they hatching something with the intelligence of a pet/familiar/human, or something greater than that?), he's distracted as the robot scoots closer yet. As Mettaton explains what he did know about how to raise this dragon- or at least, how to get it out of its shell, and the comparison to his own people.]
Do monsters lay eggs....
[It's more of a mutter than an aside. Ghosts, of course, were an even greater mystery, and as Mettaton glances furtively away, Emet-Selch gazes upon their egg.
The threat of memory sharing, though... he wasn't surprised that Mettaton latched on to that particular detail, and he frowns deeper at it. If there was any risk of that happening at all, his lover would mean to ensure that it was only with him. And while 'not raising any egg at all' seemed to be the safest (and least troublesome) method of avoiding it- it might be too late now, if Mettaton had gotten himself attached to this thing.]
Our memories belong with one another. [He confirms; if looking after this egg with him was the way to keeping Mettaton's secure, then so be it. (He will still complain.) His gaze flits up towards the robot.] However, if this dragon is inspiring such specific intimacy, I hope our charge understands to keep our histories to itself.
[Was their egg going to be a voyeur to it all? It seemed an easy assumption to make, if its nature caused memories to bleed out in its presence. An emotional and historical blending, to prepare the lizard for the world it would hatch into.
But he squeezes Mettaton's hand back, regardless. If he had to kill their dragonling to keep Mettaton's secret safe, he wouldn't even hesitate.]
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Do you think a cat lays eggs, darling? [He sounds incredulous, but for all of the teasing tone, he knows it's still an aside of a question that comes from simply not knowing.
But that answer should suffice. Monsters... are very, very variable. And not all monsters are birds, or fish... and not all fish lay eggs?? And not all monsters lay eggs, give birth, or asexually reproduce. They may perform: none of the above. It's frankly unknowable, but feelings are definitely involved.
He drops it, simple as that. For the third time he scoots closer to Emet-Selch as though it were possible to do in their current position, as he drapes his wrists over each of Emet-Selch's shoulders and laces his fingertips behind his neck. The robot hovers over their charge, hip sidled as neatly against Emet-Selch, and as close to boot. If the powers of this dragon made it so that their memories were blended, it only made sense that the dragon itself would experience their thoughts as well...
A consideration that Mettaton hums to, as he silently decides (optimistically) that the dragon had either better be on the level of a pet, or should understand the gravity of his own memories and thoughts and safeguard them as Emet-Selch does. And the other truth he knew: Emet-Selch would make sure their secrets remain secrets. That he would kill this dragonling to guard him, Mettaton didn't doubt, nor did he presently mind. All in all, Emet-Selch's reply to him is satisfying. Their memories do belong in one another's hands.]
There's nowhere I'd rather trust myself, than with you. [Spoken lowly, as Mettaton leans in enough to nearly graze the sturdy shell of the egg with his body.] There are other things about raising this egg... but I think the basics have been covered.
[He smiles. No more explaining. Eggsplaining. That it wants for quieter surrounds, or that it'll soak in its ambient emotions, those were all collateral. They are the acting parents now, and whatever happens, happens. If anything, Mettaton does feel the satisfaction at working together with Emet-Selch on a project for the long-haul, reminding him somewhat of the mutual effort it takes to strengthen their Bond, to deepen its magical entwining.
Speaking of entwining, Mettaton decides to change his position. Keeping his wrists draped over Emet-Selch's shoulders, Mettaton heaves the rest of his body gently up and off of the couch before maneuvering his long legs onto the cushion. Nudging the shape of Emet-Selch's closest leg, he knows the Ascian will be easy to coax to spread, which is where Mettaton decides to make his new home: between his legs, spread, so that he can hover over egg and husband.]
As long as we keep it close, our natural inclination toward each other should be all it needs to be nurtured to hatching. And that... is something the townspeople impressed upon me, is more than appreciated. They seem to really care about their dragon population!
[Mettaton could tell how much this meant to them, especially because they were willing to pay him. He also accepted the offer for free food, because Emet-Selch would appreciate that! He loves free food! The townspeople didn't bat an eye when he accepted it, either, which was also appreciated. No judgements were passed about the robot wanting food. Overall, though, with a life that needed only the ambient affection around it to be nurtured... He felt assured that they could not only do it, but yield a good result. Anything unexpected about the process would be experienced with Emet-Selch by his side.
Mettaton settles close. One of his hands moves down to adjust his lover's vast robes so that he's not sitting on them, hiking them up and around his body, especially so that he can shift his knees beneath the smaller man's thighs and shimmy his way up close to his body. Hovering close, his arms are returned to Emet-Selch's shoulders.]
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But fine, no eggs. None but the one between them, sourced from an absent dragonparent (Were they counting on the townsfolk to help, having learned from prior experience that this was an easier way of getting someone to do the work for them?). That they would look after, so long as it remained no threat to identity or memory.
Hopefully the egg wouldn't realize or care that its death was entirely on the table should it misbehave. Emet-Selch didn't bear it any active ill-will, but the promise was there, silent between them. But was that not a form of love too, for it to appreciate? The protectiveness that coursed between them, ever simmering.
Mettaton slips partially over the smaller man's body, nudging metal against scaly shell. The mage's voice lowers with his, as he feels arms rest about his shoulders. His own hands brush against the robot's sides.]
Do the other things involve more hassle for me, by any chance? If so, keep them to yourself indefinitely.
[This was enough of a burden for one day. Burden: getting an egg placed on him. And a robot too, if Mettaton's increasing efforts to encroach on him were anything to go by. But his legs do spread for him, easily, naturally. Out of habit and willingness both, he welcomes Mettaton between them. The couch wasn't an infinite space, and one of his legs ends up dangling off the edge, but that was fine.
Though he makes a small sound of protest when Mettaton abruptly shifts, hiking up the mage's voluminous robes without so much as a warning. His legs would get cold now... even if this meant the other man wouldn't be pulling at the fabric by kneeling on top of it. Emet-Selch merely frowns his disapproval (he was already frowning). His eyes briefly close as he affects another sigh, squeezing the robot between his legs.]
Then be careful not to crush it. Especially not against me.
[Somewhere else was fine. Though once he discovered that Mettaton was getting paid for this, he would snort. Of course there would be more to it than merely doing it out of the kindness of his heart... though Emet-Selch wouldn't turn down the free food.]
Did they tell you how long we have to wait before our natural inclination towards each other has had the desired effect?
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Like the movement of robes, and the situation of his own body between Emet-Selch's legs. The couch isn't one the idol shopped for and it is quite small, if an average-sized couch by most standards. To them, it's small, and Emet-Selch makes room for his larger husband by readily spreading his thighs. As a result, his leg's made to go off the edge. It was only natural that Mettaton would hike up the plentiful fabric, especially because this creates even more of a nest at his lap.
The robot grins.]
It's hard, Hades-dearest. To avoid crushing you.
[Because he was so satisfying to press against, to deposit the full of his weight as firmly as possible against him. His body can take it, and the smaller man was a delight to feel underneath him, for every shift of his body and every change of it besides... Mettaton sighs as he settles, curling around the egg as he arches around his husband, setting nicely between spread legs. Stradling him, half-way to scooping him into his lap, Mettaton hums comfortably.]
Now that you mention it... No, nobody's told me how long. Two weeks, to a month?
[As Mettaton generates... snail trivia, and ascribes it to a dragon. He blinks doown at the shell and flashes Emet-Selch a smile, deciding that his answer should suffice, as that's how long a snail hatches so why not a dragon? It doesn't matter; Mettaton waves it off.]
I'm sure we can look into it. Maybe at the library. [No, he hasn't tried yet, and will likely hear from someone who has before he meets failure.] For now, we just need to focus on each other, right? If affection and cuddling is key, we've a lot of that between us, you and I. Hmm...
[Natural inclination indeed... Mettaton squirms closer, wrapping his arms around Emet-Selch starting from around his chest after tucking his hands underneath Emet-Selch's arms. His hands wander to meet squarely in the middle of his back, and the robot finds himself a spot secured between legs, warmly cradling that egg between their bodies. ...Of course, every so often Mettaton's body collides with its sturdy shell, and a soft impact's made, but it'll be fine.]
... I was thinking, Hades. About our future here, and what we want together. I'd just been at the Crystal, before I fell in this business about dragons and egg-rearing. [His smile sobers slightly, but his eye remains bright with hope and love.] So I wanted first to share this with you.
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I'm used to your crushing. Your egg, however, is not.
[Though it seemed sturdy enough from his minor examination of it, that it probably wouldn't shatter if dropped. Even so, Mettaton was a heavy robot with reduced sensitivity besides... but it seemed fine for the moment, with the taller man curling around their incubating pet, and otherwise pressing himself firmly against the Ascian's body. Not crushing yet, but with a solidity he did enjoy, and something he latches onto, encouraging this way of being handled, scooped close. Making the best use they could of this insufficient couch (most couches they'd owned had been insufficient).
And while he doesn't question verbally this 'two weeks to a month' concept, Emet-Selch does raise an eyebrow at it, considering that Mettaton had just said that no one had told him. A number pulled out of nowhere (he doesn't even consider snail knowledge as the origin for this number, as what did snails have to do with dragons).
But he shrugs again as Mettaton waves it off; it didn't really matter, at this stage, whether it was a week or a year... though if it grew to take too long, he'd be inclined to toss the egg out as defective (another small threat towards the developing lizard, a warning not to languish within shell-secured comforts). If there was information to be gained somewhere, it could be gained at some other time.
Humming a quiet affirmation (though the inclination struck to argue, or to complain over the trouble all this Mettaton-company would be, that he'd never get a break or know peace again), he wraps his own arms around him as much as he could. A return of that embrace, and if Mettaton occasionally knocked into scaly shell, it was something the egg would have to learn to get used to. If it wanted to share in their cuddles, this would be the least of what it would have to endure. And when Mettaton speaks again, that line of reply takes priority anyway.]
The Crystal isn't like to answer anyone's questions- and rarely, anyone's prayers. [Where Mettaton sobers, Emet-Selch glances aside; what was their future here? Their prior worlds together held the same question, and with no good answer being any more forthcoming.
There was only the more short-term future, an improvement of their conditions.] And now, we have an egg to look after to distract us.
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The raised eyebrow earns a reply from Mettaton, who quirks an eyebrow at Emet-Selch right back. A teasing tug at the corner of his lip and an affectionate handsing, as Mettaton gropes at Emet-Selch's back.]
Don't give me that look. It'll take as long as it likes... and possibly longer, with you as the father!
[If Emet-Selch were a baby dragon in an eggshell, Mettaton imagines he'd really languish in there for as long as possible. Psychically, this is Mettaton's reply to any moment Emet-Selch demanded the dragon hurry up and hatch, lest he toss it out and consider it defective. The rotton egg effect is just a tired dragon and a tired Emet-Selch, MTT would argue, as for some reason he's the only one to demand that anyone do any hurrying.
It's playfully said, as he knows he'll want to know at some point the definitive answer. Maybe some of the other Dreamers would know how long it takes to incubate a dragon egg. It was a problem for future Mettaton.
Present Mettaton is pleased to have his lover's arms around him, and he wriggles into his arms. Of course, the egg is made to endure more tapping and bouncing of one unyielding surface against its own, whether it's glass or metal or silicone-around-metal.
Though sobered, it's only far enough to discuss a line of thinking determined rather than anything grave, and Mettaton sighs at Emet-Selch's pessimism.]
Oh, I know it. I was just Crystal-side, asking for all kinds of stuff, to see what I might get it to spit out! [Shaking his head, it's obvious that the Crystal didn't answer a single query. A quick glance to the bedroom, though, and...] Hmm... Nope. It didn't give me another body to transfer into. No gifts waiting for me on my pillow, the way my wedding ring waited for me. And unless you feel particularly powerful all of a sudden... I don't think it answered a single desire of mine today. It's particular! And cruel. Apparently, I'm not rich enough still...
[Oh, to be poor. Dramatically, Mettaton's head hangs. This egg was a distraction, but not really, as Mettaton was always forward-thinking while living in the present. But this is where Mettaton lifts his head with a grin, snuggling so close that the egg is well-pressed against any plane of his body it can be pressed to.]
But. Is there a rule where we can't wish for something together, you and I...? If we pool together our shards, and unite our hearts... couldn't we wish for anything? An upgraded body, for me? Your powers, for you? ... A business license?
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Of all the thousands of offspring I've sired in my time, a dragon was never amongst them. Something like that, I would have remembered.
[He was not the father, and he would not be blamed for any slow-hatching reptiles. The threat remained. For the future.
For the now, though: the result of Mettaton's recent Crystal visit. A result of nothing, as expected, his lover's persistence and charm not something that would be effective on every entity. But Emet-Selch hadn't had any hopes left to raise, nor dash. And yet he felt a small bit disappointed nonetheless.]
So neither of us are enhanced, [He confirms, as his hand absently strokes along Mettaton's side.] nor recovered to what we're meant to be. Our pleas are, as of yet, unheeded.
[As he'd asked the Crystal himself, recently... to no better effect. No additional functionalities for his husband; no greater powers for himself. They were poor.
But for Mettaton's dramatic dismay-and-recovery, what would've been a look of mild commiseration turns into something thoughtful and skeptical both.
Unlike in Aefenglom, where Emet-Selch had mooched and then lived off a sizeable payment for being tortured, here he was mooching and... sort of, occasionally, doing something here and there. For money. It wasn't as though he were against work, or effort, only things that were dull (and the past month he hadn't done much of anything beyond cough up flowers). But he wouldn't leave Mettaton to save up on his own- at least, not when the goals were something they both wanted.
So he wasn't entirely without resources himself. But to ask together... the mage still frowns, looking aside again.]
If there's a rule against cooperation, 'tis not one written anywhere we can read it. But even should we collect our shards together, it won't obtain us everything.
[His hand twitches.]
--And should I find myself suddenly bankrupted for the sake of your business license I'll- [Not be able to do anything about it. Which deflates him slightly.] ...be less willing to humor your suggestions again.
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[He's not siring any dragons, but Mettaton has decided that they are Eggnant With Dragon, and that means they're sharing parental responsibilities, such as being fathers. But if it dawdled, Mettaton would definitely blame it on Emet-Selch—especially as he grows to understand better the psychic connection it really has with the two closest by.
He could feel the dismissal, though, and that was okay by Mettaton. He continues to lean in, and continues to scrape against the egg, pressing it into Emet-Selch's soft abdomen. The egg handles this abuse like a champ, showing no signs of disruption, its sturdy exterior built for large, scaly parents. It would resist much of Mettaton.
The egg could simply sit there and remain audience to the couple's Crystalline considerations, as Emet-Selch ponders Mettaton's suggestion with an edge of doubt. And Mettaton beams, reassured by Emet-Selch's... agreement, as it could be put.]
I'm so glad you agree! [That there didn't seem to be a rule against wishing together. Mettaton rubs and pats Emet-Selch's back, squirming ever closer.] I can't think of something we CAN'T obtain, with our combined work. Short of our actual wishes, perhaps... as I can't imagine Vaeros would let us redeem that with shards. He'd have nothing to lord over us, that way.
[And even without asking, Mettaton knew what Emet-Selch's wish would be. He knew what Emet-Selch would wish for at the bottom of his heart... ...The fact of the matter is, that Mettaton could have wished for exactly the same thing as his husband. He didn't. He knows he didn't, but he doesn't regret his own wish, even when he knows it's more self-serving. He could obtain his own dreams, while still dreaming up solutions to Emet-Selch's.
But back to the matter of wishes and wants, Mettaton gives Emet-Selch a sultry look, a lowering of his lashes as he flutters them charmingly.]
Come on now, Hades. A business license means the production of... more shards! If I start up my brand here, I can better use my talents to make it big, and make money off of any idea I can dream! [Even the worst ones. Mettaton slips so close that it could very well wind Emet-Selch, with how firmly that egg is being forced into him. The only one who would be crushed here is Emet-Selch, under robot and dragon (egg).] I want to tell you my first idea, and I'll grow my business from there. An entertainment venue!! A better one than that horrendous bar they have here, and one glamorous enough to make even the audience feel like part of the spectacle!
[Mettaton smiles, eye bright and body wound tight enough to pounce, either on Emet-Selch or his dream. Both, at the same time, especially if he could rope the smaller man into helping him fund the endeavor.]
Like my restaurant-resort!! A stage... exclusive seating. Reservations. Fabulous food, and delightful wait staff. A fountain, featuring me... And a daily lineup of performers! It would be an outlet for those who wish for entertainment, and those who wish to entertain!
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Any amount of shard-gathering wouldn't buy for them their true wishes- he assumed that much. Emet-Selch still didn't believe their true wishes would be granted anyway, and whether it was due to lack of capacity or willingness, he didn't care. The result would be the same. But as for buying something smaller together, yes... he thought it might be allowed. Though Mettaton's enthusiastic response only raised his suspicion- and the way he was looked at did nothing to ease it, his sultry look meeting an impassive stare.
More pertinent now were Mettaton's business plans, and while he had nothing against the idol finding some way to spend the time (and potentially produce shards), he was far less certain over his own precious shard-collection being devoted to this venture. And his chance of cooperation dwindled the more the robot described, as he imagined Mettaton emptying his accounts for the sake of purchasing a series of Mettaton-shaped fountains....
His sour look is interrupted by something of a grimace though, as Mettaton seemed determined most of all to lodge this egg inside him in some crude, unpleasant way. Though he tries to squirm to adjust his position somewhat and escape this fate, he's too tightly held down to succeed. The discomfort does nothing to improve his willingness to concede anything to him.]
If that's- your aim, you're not getting a lone shard from me.
[From holding onto him, his hands push at Mettaton's chest, wanting most of all to not be crushed by enthusiasm/egg.]
Find someone else's work to waste.
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And then he pouts.]
Waste? You don't like my idea?
[Brow furrowing, Mettaton settles back just slightly enough that at least Emet-Selch isn't being crushed under him/egg. His arms remain slung around his back, and Mettaton clings fast to him, even though he's settled slightly back now.]
I thought it was a fabulous idea! Then, what sort of establishment would you be willing to finance?
[Mettaton is flexible, as he overlooks the fact that it's perhaps the mention of a hypothetical MTT fountain that is what has Emet-Selch ticked. That seems a small detail to him, that would just come as part of the parcel deal- or perhaps something he'd angle for in future, as he refines his vision. With, or without, Emet-Selch's help.
Scooting close, nudging Emet-Selch's thighs well onto his lap, Mettaton gazes at Emet-Selch's face, soaking in his drawn features. Flattening his palms against his back, the robot leans over the egg again, curling around it rather than pressing into it.]
I'm about making profit, so we no longer have to perform odd tasks around town for our keep. And if you'd do it with me... I'd want it to be something you agree to.
[Plus any additional things Mettaton sneaks in there, or otherwise adds on... The idea of stuffing his wait staff into silly costumes, for example, is not something that is stated. There are all kinds of horrors to behold. A labyrinth, outside of the labyrinth... of Bad Decisions.]
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If anything, he's more put out that Mettaton had apparently been planning to ambush him with this, rather than wanting his shards for anything useful.]
None, I'm not financing any establishment. Where did you even get the insane idea that I would--
[Not now, at least, when it seemed to him that there were far more crucial things to obtain first. Things that actually mattered, rather than a business, which could be done later, if at all (and still without his backing).]
Especially when you say it as though my agreement is already a concession on your part, rather than a baseline. [Even without knowing what Bad Decisions lay just beyond Mettaton's presentation of the idea, he was ready to refuse the concept outright. And the closer the robot scooted, the more he tensed, waiting for the discomfort of an egg being lodged back in his abdomen.] I've better things to do than indulge your whims.
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But it wasn't the first thing he wanted Emet-Selch's help in, as there were other things to finance. Mettaton smiles, sinking comfortably into his spot. The egg gets more of his weight, but it's not so much that it's dug into the Ascian beneath this time.]
Such a shame. I was looking forward to it! [To his help; to his input. He really was, and he decides it's still not a lost cause when he shrugs.] We'll see how you feel later. When you don't have better things to do. Such as... team up with me to alter my body, and regain your powers. You'll still do that, hmm?
[Mettaton has decided that Emet-Selch's exasperation could be addressed directly. He doesn't view even his shard-and-fame-generating ventures to take precedence over these two important tasks- which he would see to, with or without Emet-Selch's help.
Withdrawing one hand from his back, Mettaton reaches for Emet-Selch's fingers. He weaves four digits in with five, sure that they were together on these ventures to start. From there, he could see if Emet-Selch was willing to work with him- and even then, the idol would see his own desires to fruition on his own. (He still had other business ideas, though, and would gladly air them out.)]
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Given that your first impulse was to detail some nonsensical business plan, with all else a distant consideration, [As he readily assumes that this was Mettaton's priority, given that it was what he immediately pressed on, after putting out the idea of combining their shards.] no. I won't have you become distracted or change your mind half-way through the request, wasting all I've collected.
[Which was even assuming that shards could be pooled, which was in itself an assumption... and with no feedback from the Crystal itself likely, would a failure mean it wasn't possible, or just that there wasn't enough, even combined? But it didn't matter, in the end; he'd expected to do this on his own, and that hadn't changed. He was just more annoyed over it.]
I'll handle what's important to me myself.
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[Even for their powers/body, he means, though it goes unsaid. Mettaton's lips part in surprise, as he felt it would be an obvious yes to work together to get something they both really wanted... as if he would change his mind half-way through due to distraction?! Freeing up his hand, he points an accusatory finger Emet-Selch's way.]
Just how little do you think I want all of the things... we've already gone over time and time again? You can't possibly forget just because I introduce a new idea to you. [Insulting! Did Emet-Selch think Mettaton had the attention span of a gnat?? (And so what if he did sometimes, the things he had little attention for warranted it. None of these three things were that!)] I'm just thinking ahead, about ways to earn more shards, faster! Work smarter. Not harder! My business plan is for the future, Hades, darling.
[Smarter, which was... with his own business! Then he'd be ROLLING in shards. But he would have to agree that the biggest priority, especially with Emet-Selch's help, would be getting the two things they want most—and then finding ways to gain riches. And fame, on the side.
Dropping his finger, Mettaton settles his hand on Emet-Selch's middle, at the base of the egg and gently upon his middle. Tempering, he blinks slowly at the mage.]
You should know. My priority is us. Your powers, and my body. Do you really think I can be distracted from that...? And what matters to you, matters to me.
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(Having a dragon egg literally dropped in his lap and informed that he was going to look after it didn't help his mood either. He was Done when it came to surprises, to new hassles being sprung on him.)
Mettaton points at him, and the mage's eyes narrow.]
How have I forgotten, when you want it so little that you'll promptly discard everything in favor of whatever new plaything next occurs to you!
[He snaps back, irate, bristling underneath him. He didn't want to explain why he thought it was a poor idea to do first, because that implied that he could be convinced otherwise, were his concerns countered... and he was in no mood to be convinced of anything.]
Your priority is whatever avenue gets you attention. [From heated, his voice chills, looking aside with a disgusted sound.] I don't know why I expected it to be anything else.
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[Mettaton's not snapping, even though he's quick to reply, his retort passionate and direct. Tension still works its way through his body, as he braces the dragon's egg against himself, pressing his hand against Emet-Selch's middle as he keeps his seat on the couch. He'd claim Emet-Selch's flaring temper didn't make sense—but it did, and Mettaton begins to regret mentioning his thoughts at all, even though he wanted to share them, even if they wandered toward what-ifs and could-bes.
He closes his eye and takes a breath. Shaking his head, he opens his eye and fixes his attention on Emet-Selch levelly, softly.]
... You know I'm also going to do what it takes to continue to pursue my own dreams, in the long run. I just thought to tell you about it. [To... hassle Emet-Selch into contributing—and even Mettaton knew, at least in retrospect, that it wasn't called for right now. He glances down at the egg in their laps, then up to Emet-Selch.] I've discarded nothing, Hades. You know that.
[Mettaton cants his head, opening his eye and meeting Emet-Selch's gaze, no matter how chilled, with the openness of his heart—and the determination of his course. Confident, he knew what mattered most to himself, and what ways he'd entertained getting there.]
Not a shard is going to be spent in the direction of my venue, nor my business... until you and I are more comfortable. You don't really, truly think I'm so fickle?
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[He's just as quick to reply, and it is snapping, sharp. Though he holds still in his place on the couch, there's no settling, no relaxing. He felt aggrieved, and in no temper to let go of it. This had been no different than any other time Mettaton flirted and cajoled him into doing something for him; he didn't believe that it'd been intended for the future.
Did he know that Mettaton hadn't discarded their original goal? Did he think he was that fickle? Silence hangs after that question, silence an answer in itself. Even if Mettaton claimed that nothing would be used on his business just yet, was that only because he'd received a verbal pushback from him, with his original intent laying elsewhere? The Ascian stares fixedly aside, ignoring his gaze; it didn't matter, ultimately. He wasn't going to help now, and he'd do what it took on his own to get back what he wanted. His tone cools more into deliberate idleness.]
Pursue whatever you wish. Consider me informed.
[In possibly the worst way possible, but he was now informed, just as he'd been told he was going to raise a dragon.]
Unless there was more that you wished to drop on my lap?
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Mettaton chews on his lip. It had been intended for the future, but he can tell Emet-Selch still believes he'd been attempting to talk him into now. No, that hadn't been the intent, unless the Ascian had somehow suggested they go through with it quicker... to which he'd have to endure some of Mettaton's questioning about their current priorities—and who knows how that conversation would've gone. Similarly explosive?
Emet-Selch: informed. Indeed, in possibly the worst of ways, he realizes. Mettaton decides that's that, best as it can be. His business ventures would wait; the egg somehow takes priority over even that, somehow. Because Mettaton had felt drawn; because Mettaton had felt impacted by its plight. He still does.
Bracing the egg further against his body, Mettaton shifts some of his weight onto the back of the couch while he watches Emet-Selch. He ddn't think they had to split their efforts all due to this misunderstanding, but he decides not to press on it for now. Until he felt ready to try at the Crystal for keeps—but the desire to try with his husband's help is similarly known.
He shakes his head, gaze squarely on Emet-Selch.]
That's it! The product of my thinking for the day... And this.
[This, the egg, which took even Mettaton by surprise. Emet-Selch hadn't quite agreed to taking care of it, but Mettaton still believes Emet-Selch would be on board—because he needed the help, and he trusted Emet-Selch most of all with help like this, and he'd more-or-less suggested that he would be the best to help. Without doubt he decides Emet-Selch's on board with this, and to that, Mettatn feels pleased.
Smoothing a hand carefully over the egg's surface just to soak in the texture of its grooves, Mettaton continues lays his head over the back of the couch, cheek against fabric.]
Otherwise... I wanted to see you. To spend time with you. If that counts as dropping something on your lap. [Having his requests continuously unanswered, Mettaton was also the sort to seek out comfortable company—and Emet-Selch is always his go-to.]
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Now, though, Emet-Selch was primed to refuse entirely- not only for the present, but for the next time it was brought up. Whatever Mettaton wanted to create, it could be done without his input- both monetarily, and otherwise.
There only remained the hassle of this egg, and the life it contained... and if it were truly sensitive to the emotions around it, then it was getting its first taste of what life in this household would be like. Not the most comforting or welcoming of atmospheres... and if it decided to give up and remain in its shell for good, Emet-Selch would hardly blame it.
But he'd accepted- or otherwise resigned himself- to the immediate future of egg-incubating, which as far as he could tell involved doing nothing more than what he was already doing: being warm, holding still. All else- including his determination to keep their efforts split, just as they'd been to start with, could wait. His patience was gone, used up for the day. His eyes close, as he rests the back of his head against the arm of the couch, and sighs.]
You see me every day, Mettaton. We spend no little amount of time together.
[Which he'll phrase as though it were a burden... which was in line with how he would normally present it, even when he wanted the company.]
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[And they lived together. But they lived together because he loves him, of course, and trusted him with anything he was. Mettaton settles against the couch, one arm still loosely around Emet-Selch's waist and up his back, while the other arm ropes itself loosely around the egg with a clang of shell-against-metal. It's a rigid shell, that's for sure.
That said, he cozies himself up onto the couch between Emet-Selch's legs, adjusting his own beneath his thighs. A shift of them is like an embrace of them, as he draws them closer together, pressing his thighs against the smaller man. His fingers knit themselves into the dark fabric of Emet-Selch's flowing robes, a gentle fisting of it.]
And I was feeling a little... wistful. So I thought about you, and wanted to be with you.
[Wishing, to no avail, left him feeling bereft of the things he wanted. So he thought; he dreamed up future scenarios, including that future endeavor to liven this place up. He didn't mind considering this place home for now if Emet-Selch was with him, and even thinking that way had him wanting the Ascian's company. Daily tasks could be put on hold for the sake of returning home...
And then there was the egg he'd been persuaded, and drawn, to take. Another reason to introduce his charge to Emet-Selch, another thing to show him and tell him. All of which the Ascian wasn't like to take well, as Emet-Selch rarely did, even though it surprises Mettaton in some way how poorly he'd taken his idea. Even if Emet-Selch never wanted part in his business endeavors, he hoped he could still ask him to cooperate with him on wishing for what they desired.
But those were thoughts he could touch upon another day, when Emet-Selch's patience had evidently replenished. He could see it in him- in the draw of his brow, or the particular cant of his sigh. Maybe even the way his eyes close. Mettaton could see it, and knew better than to push his patience if he lacked it.
That the egg was being subjected to this turmoil as a first impression is something he's only distantly aware of. This is just what it would have to weather, if it were to be part of their unit.]
I still wish that I could put this electricity we have to some more use. Such as, with a TV! Then we could watch something together... [Which sounded nice to him, sitting on this couch.]
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[He answers blandly. Of course, they lived together because they liked to see each other, and because they were in love. That much he knew, and where he doesn't respond to Mettaton's shifts and squirms, his own body a prop for an embrace, and nest for a dragon, he doesn't try to escape the couch either. Annoyed still, but calmer now, he sighs more quietly. Wistful... a mood he was familiar with, and on this star, who else was there to turn to?
Emet-Selch did not consider this place, this world, any sort of 'home'. Not in the short term, and not in the long term. Its welfare was irrelevant to him, and all that mattered was surviving it (and regaining what shouldn't have been taken from them in the first place). Where to go from there was its own problem.
For now, there was navigating what each month strove to throw at them, which at this point included an egg that Mettaton had decided to get attached to. (Emet-Selch didn't think anything of his lover being 'drawn' to this charge, that he'd picked it up for reasons other than whim, on finding one that suited his aesthetics.) An egg that was an awkward lump between them, of similar durability to Mettaton, it seemed; the mage would be the only one to give way, between them.
Not that he was currently being crushed. Not even figuratively, with Mettaton relenting on any attempt to convince him of anything right now. Instead he felt a degree of tension only, agitation always slow to settle, even when it wasn't being provoked.]
Add it to the list of things to plead for. [His voice is a lazy rumble; the way he waves it off, similarly languid.] Along with something to watch....
[Cozying up to a blank screen didn't sound very entertaining... but he wasn't rejecting the idea. It did sound nice.]
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