headlining | FUTUROLOGY IC INBOX

Yeah, yeah, [he grins.] Tell me about the Ireland again, George.

Honestly, just because I don't sound like some giddy leprechaun from TV...

[He brushes some of the hair out of Mettaton's face, fingertips against the cold, unfeeling metal. Soon, he'll feel that warmth again. Soon...]

Ireland? It's not especially large. It's only an island. so we've got some gorgeous coastlines. Beaches are nice, but we're really known for our cliffs. Those are a sight to see. They're probably in every postcard you can get your tourist hands on. Funny...I rather miss those vistas, even if I didn't see too much of them.

[A soft whine leaves Mettaton's speakers at the empty gesture with his hair. At least now he can see a bit more through both of his eyes. The metal surrounding his right eye is newer than the left, leaving a noticeable shift in color from one half of his face to the next. There's even a slight color-difference in his right eye; it's more pale than the dark black his "pupil" usually is.

Eventually... Come on, charge...]

Cliffs... Like mountains?

[He blinks and projects a gray image of what he imagines based on Keats' description. Beaches and mountains...?]

Ha, no. Not quite.

[He says, with a slight click of his tongue.]

It's not cliffs like mountains. It's more like...most things are on a higher level. You could be walking through a nice field before it suddenly drops off into a steep cliff, down to the water.

[It's odd, how he honestly hasn't seen that much of the place he should technically come from, and yet how strangely homesick he feels.]

It's rather dangerous, actually. You could fall to your death if you aren't careful. They're around...twenty or more feet high from the water, sometimes?

Oh... [Huh.

Another blink, and his interpretation shifts again. High ground and steep drops into the water... Is this closer?]

There's not a lot of that Underground. [Obviously.] There's some steep drops in Waterfall, but nothing that would kill you.

[...well.]

I think. It wasn't really a problem for me.

[He nods. Much more accurate.]

Well, you are the sturdy one, so I don't think you would have much to fear. There's no railings or anything, so it's really just all about avoiding the edges.

[A memory comes to mind, and his smile quirks up, obviously pleased with himself.]

I jumped off one of them, though. Lived to tell the tale, too.

Pft- What?!

[Nope! Hang on! He's gotta sit up to properly stare in disbelief.]

You jumped off a cliff?? WHY? What POSSIBLE reason would Mr. Reporter have to go base-jumping?!

[His smug look just grows. As much as he likes to behave he doesn't always like attention, sometimes getting this kind of reaction is exactly what he needs.]

I had a scoop to find. Also, when I went to the Netherworld, the portals to those opened in rather odd places, so...well, one of them was at the bottom of the cliff.

And to think, I could've died instead of going to the afterlife. Ironic, really.

Oooh-ho-ho, my word! You-- [He's smacking playfully at Keats' shoulder, expression still a mixture between impressed and bewildered.] You dork!! You jumped off a cliff for a story?! To jump into a portal you didn't even believe was real?!

[Mettaton's grinning, but it's the sort of snide grin you'd make knowing you'd make the exact decision you're three seconds away from teasing someone else over.]

You probably monologued to yourself the entire time, didn't you?

Hey, now, when it all happened, it all was rather like a lucid dream. You can't die in a dream, can you? So I thought to myself "why, this is perfectly fine".

[Wow, he was an idiot. It's a good thing the Netherworld portals WERE real.]

Oh, shut up. [He says, smacking Mettaton back on his shoulder, almost looking embarrassed.] What else do you do when you make a leap off a cliff?

AAAH!! [It's a shrill peal of laughter that shrieks its way out of his speaker and kicks his legs against the floor in the utter delight of being right! This idiot! This stupid, stupid idiot, Mettaton can read him like a damn book!! He can't stop laughing!!

His hands are pressed against his eyes by the time the giggles subside, but he's still gasping as if he had lungs.] Y-you are so p-predicable, oh my god, I love-- [Ah.] th-that about you...

[There he goes. Keats was TRYING TO LOOK COOL and ended up...not looking cool at all. He even pouts a bit as Mettaton goes into his laughing fit, though what Mettaton says next makes him widen his eyes a bit in surprise.]

Oh. [He says, quietly, bashful smile inching across his face.] Well, I can't say that's the best trait, but...coming from you, maybe I'll appreciate that a little more.

Of course you should, cupcake, [he chuckles, momentarily taken in by that strangely modest expression.] My taste is fantastic. [Look at these purple boots he's wearing. He flexes his heels, letting the material squeak. It's all VERY good.

The night continues on like that. Telling stories about one another. Laughing about one another. Mettaton talks about his game with Alphys and all the embarrassing flubs therein, to even out Keats' wounded pride. They talk about media and books and, much to SOMEONE'S chagrin, musicals. Mettaton even manages to suggest another one that they hadn't watched in Terra Felis.

Luckily for the both of them (but mostly Keats), a tale-tell surge of energy washes over Mettaton's frame. He knows what that means... It's...

A ripple of magic shudders over Mettaton's form once more. He's gone from being a humanoid machine and back to being the handsome android that greeted this dork when they arrived in Oska.

He's already reaching for Keats' face again, aiming to pull him down.]

Hey...

Edited (too many agains) 2017-05-03 02:45 (UTC)

[It's nice, just talking like this. Keats has went without years without speaking to anyone save the occasional odd call to his office phone. But sitting back, telling stories, anecdotes, funny occurrences, trading compliments and fond insults back and forth, it's...nice, in ways he hadn't considered.]

[Maybe it's because who he's talking with. He's always been standoffish to most, but with Mettaton, there's an ease here that he knows can't be quite replicated with anyone else.]

[Mettaton suddenly changes underneath him. Keats watches, transfixed, reaching up to remove his glasses and put them into his coat pocket.]

Look at you. [He says, exposed eyes narrowed, almost glittering with a smugness that goes far beyond his smile.] Guess our patience has won out, has it?

"He says," [Mettaton's already burying his hands into Keats' hair, feeling the weight and softness of it,] "taking off his glasses."

... [Wait.

The mood abruptly stops as Mettaton narrows his eyes at Keats' suddenly visible pair.]

You've been able to see this whole time, haven't you?

...

[SWEATS.]

I, uh, technically shouldn't. [He says, clearing his throat.] But I guess I discovered recently that I don't need them, really?

[Now he's the one narrowing his eyes further at Mettaton.] You didn't give me back my glasses for over a week, how in the world did you not notice this before?

[UH.

Look, he didn't think about it that hard- he was distracted- he just thought-

Whatever. The hands in Keats' hair slip behind his head as Mettaton pushes himself up to meet his lips with his own. Enough about that.]

[Enough talking. Now it's time to get what they both wanted without some killer robot interfering with it all.]

[Mettaton's lips are very soft. It's different from the first time, drastically so, and Keats leans into the kiss, his eyes closing as he takes it in. He's hardly some experienced kisser, but he takes it slow in the beginning, just giving Mettaton kiss after kiss, carefully, just allowing them both to see what it feels like.]

[It really is like a revelation. Like being able to see or hear for the first time. His body is shouting with so many different responses to stimuli that he's never experienced before. It's so overwhelming... Those tears are starting to leak from his eyes again, he can feel it. He can feel everything, like bursts of color even though his eyes have closed.

His fingers instinctively massage the other man's scalp, enjoying the feeling of his hair and his warmth. His lips part with a contented sigh, inhaling warm breath and copying the movement of the lips against his own. He pushes himself further against Keats, chest pressed against chest and mind spinning as it had been hours before.

Mettaton's never been one for learning to crawl before walking. He can finally touch. He can finally feel. One of his hands drops out of Keats' hair and trails underneath his collar, feeling for the muscles on his back.

They're nice.]

[He always had imagined some wild romantic fantasy for himself, even though he was ever loath to admit it, and it pretty much feels like he's reached it. Of course, it's hardly a story, neither of them are shining knights in armor, and yet, there's a sense of genuine romance here that he can't deny. They are kissing, REALLY kissing for the first time. And it's even more than he expected.]

[He sighs into the kiss, his hands reaching up to mimic Mettaton, fingers brushing through the other's hair. Mettaton is exploring his body already, and he murmurs something unintelligible - go on, yes - as his hands trail down the other's neck.]

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