Work Text:
this is a fucking ridiculous request he mutters at his laptop. several hundred miles away, rose studies him through her webcam. do you not wish to do it dave she asks quietly. are you afraid you’ll give me cooties she adds with enough slyness to make him push his shades up the bridge of his nose firmly. fine whatever i’ll put it in the box he says. she smiles, genuinely.
a week later she messages him. i got your package. there are attached files. he waits til late, til the apartment is quiet and no one is looking for a fight. he expects something designed to make him feel like an observed subject in a very sexually-charged study on sibling relationships. he’s oddly pleased at how good he’s getting at guessing.
the pictures are rose, clearly. but very different from the snarky, aloof kid he talks to all the time on pesterchum. her hair is messy and lacking its headband. her lips aren’t black, just dark, with what looks like indentations from her teeth. in some pictures, her eyes are closed; in others they’re open but heavy lidded like she’s looking not into the camera but straight into him. she’s reclining in bed -- black satin if you’re curious -- with her body mostly covered by one of the presents he put in the package, a white and red shirt with a record. his shirt is strangely oversized for her, clinging to her frame loosely, following the dips of her hips.
in one photo she’s posed as if for a painting. in another, she’s close to the camera and pouting and biting her lip. in the last few she’s got fingers at her crotch and while the shirt obscures what they’re up to it’s not hard to guess with her flushed cheeks and how her head has dropped back.
looks like you enjoy your presents.
it smells like you.