Chapter Text
You can't shake the sick feeling that this plan just isn't going to work.
The wind picks up, warm, humid gusts of it ruffling your hair, and the sky is darkening ominously, but you are quiet while Karkat gives Bro an abbreviated explanation of what happened to the car. While he monologues, you turn the smuppet over and over in your hands as you lean against the car and frown at the van. It doesn't look big enough to fit the both of you and two large coolers in the back. Your sinking feeling increases as you notice shadows moving inside. Shit.
There is a beat of silence in which you realize Karkat has finished his rant. You glance over and discover Bro staring at you.
Or, more accurately, the smuppet.
Your hands still as you glance down at it. The smuppet stares back, its foam proboscis wobbling. You look up and Bro is smirking at you in a very particular way. You know that look; you've worn it enough times, yourself.
It's the exact expression you wore the time you were helping Karkat fix his husktop, only to accidentally open his blackrom porn folder while he peered over your shoulder. You wore it every time a younger, more innocent Gamzee obliviously made a double-entendre that had the rest of the room flushing their respective colors and giggling. Hell, there had been times when Sir Flounderlips himself had tried to out-perv you, and all it took was a short, meaningful pause and that smirk to make him trip all over those v's and w's.
You don't remember if anyone has ever tried that look on you before. All you know is that it's pissing you off.
You're about to say something to wipe that smirk off of Bro's face when the van doors slide open and you lock eyes with a slender young man with long, pale hair and eyes the exact color of a frozen lake. His identical twin appears behind him and holy fucking shit they're gorgeous.
“Ah,” says Bro. “Sol, Karkat, meet Juha and Jouni.”
You're aware that you've stopped breathing and your mouth has sagged open and you don't care. Jouni and Juha exchange looks, wide smiles appearing simultaneously, and you shiver.
Then Karkat's voice is in your ear: “You're drooling, dumbass.”
Scowling, you smack him in the shoulder with the smuppet, but all he does is snicker as he brushes past you and opens the back door. You stay out of the way while Karkat, Bro, and the twins transfer the coolers to the van. As they work, you learn that the twins are visiting from Finland. They spin under the shared DJ persona Moebius, alternating sound clips, lyrics, and jams between one another to a dizzying degree, but you are too busy staring at Juha's ass to register more than that.
They finish not a moment too soon; it starts pouring the moment you all pile into the van. The interior makes you grin and roll your eyes; there are glow-in-the-dark stars and moons plastered all over the ceiling and walls, and the air is thick with the smells of patchouli and cloves. It's just as cramped as you imagined—the coolers leave pretty much zero leg room, and your dear moirail calls shotgun before you can climb into the front seat.
Which leaves you alone, in the back, with the twins.
Maybe this won't be so bad after all.
They have even seated themselves in a way that leaves you a space open in the middle. As you settle between them, Karkat turns in his seat and gives you a knowing grin and the smuppet flies from your hand before you realize what you're doing. It emits a squeak that almost seems startled as it hits him square in the face.
“Fuck!”
You extend a middle finger in reply and prop your feet on the cooler the way the twins have done. You see they are smiling to themselves and you allow yourself a private smirk as you watch Karkat pick up the smuppet with just his fingertips and grimace at it in dawning horror as he realizes there is no way to hold the thing that doesn't look perverted. You can't stop a chuckle as he flings it away.
Beside him, Bro goes still. Karkat's upper lip curls as the man turns and stares at him in a way that actually makes you feel a bit embarrassed for him. Bro huffs and smiles, and it's a strange sort of tolerant, rankled smile that says oh you sweet little idiot you have no idea just how much you just fucked up do you. One brow arches in silent reproach as he reaches down, picks up the smuppet, and sets it on the dashboard.
“Before we get this party started, we gotta establish some rules,” he says, just a hint of a condescending lilt lacing his deep monotone. “One, driver picks the music. Two, don't bitch at my driving. I am a fucking traffic ninja and you will deal. Three, it's a long way home. You gotta take a piss, you do it at the gas station in two miles or you hold it. Four--” And here he gives Karkat a look that makes him shrink into his seat a little even as his scowl deepens. “Don't. Throw. The smuppet.”
Your brows fly up as he shoots you a scornful glance that makes it clear that you are not exempt from this lecture. It makes you feel roughly two sweeps old, but you manage to keep your face blank.
“And just to make sure we all get the message...”
You blink and frown as the twins let out strained groans.
“... we're gonna listen to some Nickelback.”
The engine rumbles to life and you wince at the sudden deluge of loud drums and screaming guitars. You have not heard of this Nickelback. Thirty seconds into “Bottoms Up”, however, and you discover that there is actually something worse than contemporary country.
You feel a cool hand take yours and squeeze. Startled, you blink up at Juha, who is smiling in sympathy.
“Don't feel bad.”
Jouni catches your eye and quirks. “Juha dropped Lil Cal once.”
“He made us listen to nothing but Rod Stewart the entire ride home.”
“I don't think he's quite forgiven us.”
“That was nearly a year ago.”
You crack a grin. Where is Lil Cal anyway—oh.
There he is. He is nestled in the netted basket on the back of Bro's seat, as nonchalant as can be. Your eyes widen and you stiffen, unable to break that dead, plastic gaze, before you realize how absurd you're being. Mercifully, the song comes to a close, leaving your ears throbbing in the sudden quiet.
Bro is smiling. Karkat gives his head a little shake to clear it, coughs, and awkwardly begins asking him about towing options. You can tell he is just as chastised as you are and desperate to move the conversation somewhere, anywhere. Bro seems more than happy to offer suggestions as some soft, instrumental jazz number starts playing. You find yourself absorbed in their conversation as well, lulled by the rain drumming against the windows.
Jouni's fingers brush your knee.
Was that on accident? You glance at him. He has his chin cupped in one hand as he gazes out at the rain, but the way his lips curve is answer enough. Smiling, you find his hand without looking and stroke the backs of his fingers.
“Tho,” you say. “Did it hurt?”
Up front, you see Karkat stiffen and make a small, choked noise. He gives you a warning glare over his shoulder. “Don't you fucking dare.”
You let the pause stretch and smile serenely as Karkat bares his teeth.
“I mean it. Don't say it. I am deadly serious. You will know the true depths of my wrath. The sheer incandescent force of my hatred will blast you into a charred husk and you will never recover. It will consume you utterly. Bye-bye, no more mentally arthritic best friend. Captor, I swear to fucking god--”
Jouni looks at you, intrigued. “Did what hurt?”
You adjust your shades. “When you fell out of heaven.”
You have no idea you've fallen asleep until you wake to find the van dark save for the greenish glow of dozens of plastic stars and moons. Your first thought is that, somehow, you fell asleep with something heavy and limp draped across your lap. Frowning, you lift your head from Juha's shoulder and hiss as your neck protests the movement, shoving at the mysterious object so you can go back to sleep...
Something large and round and pale tilts sharply, and then you are staring into two unblinking blue eyes and a familiar rictus grin.
You squeak. Why the hell is the fucking puppet in your lap? On either side of you, Juha and Jouni sleep on, their breathing even and slow. You sit there frozen as you try not to completely lose your shit.
Before you can think about it too much, you blink and the weight is gone. You look up and find Lil Cal draped around Bro's neck.
What the fuck.
Up front, Karkat's phone starts blaring the Midnight Crew theme. Your moirail shows no signs of waking. He is slumped and snoring in his chair, his mouth hanging open in a way you know means he's been out cold for quite a bit--and by the angle of his head, his neck is going to ache even worse than yours.
Wincing, you creep over to his seat. Bro doesn't glance at you as you fish the phone out of Karkat's pocket and find a message:
carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG]
CG: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
TG: vantas did you forget the part where i told you i was fucking busy
CG: ASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
TG: …
CG: SSSDDCDF
TG: dude did you seriously just butt dial me
TG: seriously
TG: oh my god you idiot
CG: hii 2triider
TG: oh look who it is
TG: glad to see youre alive over there bro
TG: but the fact remains
TG: im busy
CG: yeah ii gathered, ii ju2t wanted you two know we are 2afe iin your bro2 hiideou2 van
TG: okay fine wonderful
TG: fuck
TG: listen man im glad youre not stranded anymore and you dont have to cannibalize vantas or anything
TG: but im not your mom
TG: you dont gotta check in with me
TG: you two are big boys now
TG: gotta cut the apron strings sometime captor
TG: now if youll excuse me
TG: i gotta open a can of whupass on this cheeky motherfucker
turntechGodhead [TG] has ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] You snort and shake your head as you crawl back to your seat. He should really just get hatemarried already.
