feferi/dave manicure fingerpainting handkink (implied chub)

If you were to ask most people about stable time loops, they would probably get a migraine and fail to learn anything. Dave Strider was not most people. He had quickly learned the workings of the fourth dimension (ok, it wasn't much of a dimension), and even if he didn't really understand the details, his partner-in-time Aradia somehow managed to know the finer points of temporal abuse. Between them and their seemingly infinite timeclones they had succeeded in staving off whatever had tried to assault the Veil, and they were doing a pretty damn good job at it.

All that said and done, though, Time remained a fickle mistress. In the present moment (his present moment) Dave was walking down a large flight of metal stairs, en route to the deepest part of the labs. He didn't have much of a reason to go; he only knew that five-minutes-in-the-future-him would be down there, and he had to keep up with the alpha timeline lest he spawn another doomed Dave and have to put up with Jade crying for another half hour over a slit throat.

On the way down, he bumped into himself, a future Dave that was walking back up the stairs. "Sup"s were exchanged, fists were raised, and the holy ritual of the fistbunp was performed flawlessly in recognition of their mutual, equally ironic awesomeness. Dave was always cool with hanging out with a badass like himself (well, he was usually cool with anything), but one detail quickly caught his eye; his temporally distant self was wearing a pair of thick, white rubber gloves. Future-Dave gave a slight shrug, knowing that Present-Dave was a little perplexed by the handwear on account of having been him at one point, and both quickly went their own ways.

Finally, after reaching the bottom of the long staircase (and passing several colorfully-scribbled warnings about said stairs; someone probably felt bad for Tavros), Dave found himself in a rather wide room. Whereas the lab was a sprawling mass of dark, black metal, the walls here were adorned with colorful ribbons of cloth, rainbow patterns daring to defy the perpetural gloom of the ectobiological laboratory like some kind of visual David and Goliath deal. The room had been half-flooded, and while most other flooded rooms had been pumped and dried, the inhabitants had viciously vetoed the concept of removing the water.

Several splashes and glubs later, Dave was standing face-to-face with said inhabitants.

"Heeeey, Daaaaaaa-aaaaave!!" Wide-eyed and enthusiastic as ever, Feferi surfaced from the murky waters. She was wearing a toned-down version of her normal outfit, colorful cloth clinging tightly to her soft frame. Despite having been underwater, she was holding a small nail-painting kit, and for whatever reason a blue cuttlefish was sitting on her head.

"Whoa, jesus, sorry I walked in on your freaky alien claw rituals." Dave eyed the kit from behind his shades. "I was under the impression that you had some kind of warning systems. Sound the alarms, people, this girl wants to get her fucking pink on."

Feferi giggled and glubbed at the human's poingant outburst. "How did you know they were pink?" Holding her hand up, she showed off her claws. Sure enough, the pointed nails had been coated with a thick layer of waterproof pink paint. "I just finished them! I can't wait to show the others! By the way, did you need me for anything?" She looked up at Dave with a wide-eyed smile, leaning on the edge of the pool.

Dave scoffed. "Fuck, keep that shit away from Tez. You get anywhere near her and those fingers will be ass-deep in teeth." Crossing his arms and leaning back on the wall, Dave gave his usual stoic expression. "And no, I only came down here because this goddamned meteor wasn't dank enough and I felt like drowning today."

Feferi just glubbed in amusement again, and Dave rolled his eyes. He wasn't actually sure what he was supposed to do. Aradia had informed him that he would be down here for a while, and he had to stay or else confront the unholy terror that was Jade Harley crying over a dead Dave. He could swim, but it was a decidedly uncool prospect, not to mention the water was filled with multicolored cuttlefish that he certain didn't trust. How did she even get so many cuttlefish anyway? She must have been breeding them.

"Wait! Dave, let me see your hands for a second!" Feferi's face looked like she had just had some kind of horrific ephapahy, like meeting Jesus in a dream before a date with a hot chick only to be told you weren't going to get laid and the chick as a total broad.

Shrugging, Dave extended his hands. "Yeah, sure, try not to get your fish oils on them. These are pure 100% Strider hands, limited edition. No autographs, you'll have to get Bro to do that for you."

Feferi stared at his palms before a look of terror swept her face. With a resounding GLUB, she quickly dove back underwater, leaving Dave to stare at his hands blankly. They weren't anything special; years of swordfighting and gaming had left him with hands that were rough, scarred in some places and callused where his katana usually rested. Maybe he wasn't some kind of god of perfect hands, but they weren't excatly bad by any means.

Apparently they were, because Feferi burst out of the water like some kind of tubby humanoid dolphin undergoing a fashion crisis. With a blue cuttlefish on it's head. Landing face-down on the floor beside him with a plop, she glubbed straight up, eyes filled with worry and determination. In one grey hand was a set of creams and ointments; in the other, paints and nail-polish.

Oh fuck.

"Ok, hold on, what the hell. I didn't come down here just to be the next victim of the female nail-painting apocalypse. I-" Dave was cut off by Feferi grabbing his hand roughly.

"Look at this!!" Feferi was poking at his palms and fingers. "You can't go around like this! You've got scars, blisters, dry skin everywhere! This will not glubbing do!" She pulled down hard on the boy's shirt, plopping back down on the floor. Dave wanted to argue, but he remembered that he was supposed to be staying down here to uphold the timeline. Mentally cursing the fourth dimension, he allowed himself to be pulled down into a sitting position.

The aquatic troll had already laid out her equipment and was opening a small tin of cream. "You need to take care of your hands, Dave! You have so much potential, and you're wasting it with..." She gestured to the scraggy crevices of Dave's hands. Dave rolled his eyes.

Dave wasn't expecting the instantanious manicure to be anything but boring, but he felt a strange jolt when Feferi gingerly touched his hands. Her fingers were slathered in cream, and she slowly began working it into the human's palms. Rubbing firmly in circles, pressing the cool substance over the nubs of rough skin, working over them like she was trying to massage them.

For the majority of Dave's life, he had been with two people. Bro's hands were rougher than his, gritty and torn up, and whenever they fistbunped or Bro helped Dave stand after a strife, it was like rock on rock. On the other hand, Lil' Cal's touch was uncomfortably wooden. If anything, the feel of the troll's hands was closest to those goddamned smuppets. It was something he could barely comprehend.

Dave was quiet, watching, feeling Feferi as she slowly eased the ointment into his abused palms. Her hands were incredibly smooth, without an inch of dryness. They had the slightest tinge of rubber to them, but they were also warm and soft, and the friction building up between her fingers and his palm was intoxicating.

Feferi reached up to wipe her forehead, and Dave swore he heard a soft squeak as her fingertips rubbed her brow. It wasn't just her hands; every square inch of Feferi's body must have been coated in this incredible skin. Noticing a patch of water on her shoulder, Dave reached up with a free hand and pushed it off. He was right; her arm was just as smooth and soft as her hands, made moreso by the slight but noticable fat that clung to it. She giggled, but didn't say anything, her eyes expressing her thanks for the removal of the offending droplets.

Finally, Feferi slowly stopped her rubbing. Dave's palms were warm and tingling, soaking in cream. He felt...relieved, almost, as if he had been sore but never realized it until now. He was gathering his breath to stand and leave until Feferi gripped his fingers.

"Not yet! We haven't glubbed these yet!"

Again, Dave wanted to argue, and again he was silenced. Feferi was holding his index finger with one hand, and rubbing his cuticle skin with the other. Dave had to force himself to swallow the noise threatening to escape his throat; the gentle touch was amazingly relieving. As Feferi stroked and rubbed, softening the skin, the human boy came to the realization that his hands actually had been sore. The feeling only intesified when she moved on to his other fingers, chills running down his legs when she worked over the smallest fingers and warmth pooling in his gut when she did the thumbs.

His train of thought crashed yet again when Feferi brought out what looked like a plastic nail file. She began rubbing it against the whites of Dave's nails, rounding and smoothing the jagged edges. Most human nail files were gritty, irritating things, but Feferi's was something entirely different, waxing the boy's fingernails. Belatedly, he realized that troll claws probably needed these sorts of changes, a fact that he was more than willing to accept.

As the last nail was rounded and waxed, Feferi paused. Next to her, the nail paint sat, neon pinks and purples staring up at the pair. It was obvious in her eyes that she wanted to perform the final touches on Dave's hands, and while he would have normally fought tooth and limb to avoid it, it was both a fitting finale and one of the most ironic things he had the chance to do since John wanted him to make Christmas cupcakes. Swallowing his pride, he reached out and picked up a blazing, neon-red canister of paint, handing it to Feferi, who broke out into one of the most genuine smiles he had seen from her.

Compared to the massaging and filing, the painting wasn't quite as exhilirating. Feferi brushed over each nail slowly and deliberately, and each layer of paint caused them to glow brighter and brighter with a cherry-red smoothness. As she painted, she held the entity of the finger with one hand, and Dave realized just how long his fingers were. They were rather spindly, matching his overall lanky frame, and Feferi must have realized this as well because she began to rub the crevices between fingers with her holding hand as she worked. There it was again, that silky, rubbery friction, and Dave very nearly shuddered.

Finally, the last layer of paint went on, and Feferi let go of Dave's hands. His palms tingled with softness, his fingernails felt like they had been given a second life, and his fingernails blazed with the red of his shirt. Feferi gave a happy glub, looking up into his eyes. "Seeeeee! They're so great now!"

Just once, Dave allowed himself to chuckle. "All right, fine, I take back what I said about the freaky alien rituals." As soon as he finished the sentence, Feferi launched herself at him, pulling him into a hug and pressing him against her soft body. Dave fought down the blush that rose to his cheeks, and settled for simply patting her head, even though the moment was ruined slightly by the plop of the blue cuttlefish falling off Feferi.

Seperating, Dave stood up. "I need to run. Aradia's going to be on my ass if I'm not back in time to beat back Jack with her." As he turned to leave, he paused, before glancing back at the positively glowing girl behind them. "Actually, Fef, do you have any gloves?"

---

On the way up, he bumped into himself, a past Dave that was walking down the stairs. "Sup"s were exchanged, fists were raised, and the holy ritual of the fistbunp was performed flawlessly in recognition of their mutual, equally ironic awesomeness. Dave was always cool with hanging out with a badass like himself (well, he was usually cool with anything), but one detail quickly caught his eye; his temporally distant self was surprised at the white rubber gloves adorning his hands. Present-Dave gave a slight shrug, knowing that Past-Dave was a little perplexed by the handwear on account of having been him at one point, and both quickly went their own ways.

He smirked when he was out of his past-self's sight, removing the gloves and gazing over his nails. Terezi was going to love this.