Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When the doorgrub squeals, one evening in the weeks after the fight at the HRI gathering, Karkat ignores it. It's too early to deal with drama and too early for the sound to herald anything but drama and he's still sopor-sleepy and slick with slime. Dirk can handle it, if it needs handling. He's usually up at this hour.

Sollux is still out like an illumination device, curled up on one side of the recuperacoon when Karkat looks back in. The empty space beside him looks cozy, inviting, and Karkat lingers, looking between it and his moirail's slack face, streaked blue and flushed yellow. He looks warm; content like he never is, awake. It's a good look for Sollux and one Karkat's seen a lot of, these last few weeks.

The doorgrub squawks again. Karkat scowls and leaves the block before he starts getting pissed at Sollux for sleeping through it.

He's still not answering the entry portal. He's too tired and coated in blue slime under his robe, and he doesn't care if everyone already knows they're moirails, showing off their sleeping habits to every assfuck who comes crawling up the stoop at shitfuck in the evening is just not on the program.

Instead, he wraps his robe tighter and crosses to Dirk's block.

“Nookwash,” he calls, banging on the door with one fist. It leaves traces of slime behind.

“What?” Dirk's voice, wide awake. As expected. The kid sleeps less than Karkat did at his age.

“Entry portal,” he says. “Answer it. I'm covered in slime.”

There's a rattle and the portal to Dirk's block opens. He has goggles around his neck and nothing over the orange of his eyes. One eyebrow goes up.

“Fuck you,” Karkat says, preemptively.

Dirk raises his empty hands.

“I didn't say a word.”

“Fuck your eyebrows then,” Karkat says, just as the grub squeals once again. At this rate it's going to wake Sollux.

“Entry portal,” he says. “Go.”

To his credit, Dirk doesn't argue; he just decaptchalogues his ocular shields, captchalogues the goggles, and slips past Karkat, towards the stairs.

“If it's Ampora,” Karkat says, because it probably is, “tell him I hate him. Platonically. And I'll be down in fifteen minutes.”

If it were Ampora, Dirk would say that Karkat hated him, but not platonically. Dirk would say that Karkat loathed him, detested him, was disgusted by him, but not platonically. If it were Ampora at the door, Dirk would say that Karkat hated him, was pitch for him, the deepest black, dark as night, as sea bottoms, as underwater caves. He'd say Karkat hated him so much he couldn't stand to look at him but could less stand to stay away, that he hated him and he'd be down soon and it was Ampora's choice is Dirk stayed or went. Choose now, Eridan, before he gets back: stormy black kismessitude, the likes of which have not yet been seen in troll history; or torrid interspecies auspiciticism, ashes for dinner with Dirk in the middle. What'll it be?

If it were Ampora at the door, that's what Dirk would say.

It isn't Ampora at the door; it's Kanaya.

And she's been crying.

Dirk takes a moment to look, to take in rumpled clothing and ruined hair, pale jade tracks on too-grey cheeks and knawed lips.

The circles under her eyes are deeper than they ought to be and she's not saying a word.

“Hey, Kanaya,” Dirk says, snapping the silence when it grows strained.

“Dirk,” she says, slow, careful. “Hello. Is Karkat in?”

When Dirk listens, he can hear water running.

“He's in the ablution trap,” he says. “He'll be down in a few.”

“Oh.” She looks confused, as if it hadn't occurred to her he might not be available. “And Sollux?”

“Still in the cocoon.” Dirk watches as she bites her lip, already swollen and scabbed from abuse. “Why don't I make us some coffee,” he says, “and see if he's ready to get up?

Karkat is still running through a list of possible Ampora-related crises when he makes it down to the nutrition block and it takes a few seconds for his thinksponge to process and switch gears to Kanaya-related crises.

She's sitting at the horizontal consumption surface across from Dirk, a handled beverage cylinder between her hands, and her eyes are focused on it to the exclusion of all else. Even if she wasn't a wreck from the untied shoes on up, the lostness of her expression is enough to clue Karkat in that something is very wrong.

He looks at Dirk, who meets his eyes through the ocular shields and gives the minutest shrug. Karkat runs a hand through his damp snarls of hair and clears his throat.

Kanaya twitches.

“Hi, Kanaya,” he tries and she looks over at him, eyes wide.

“Karkat,” she says. “I – Hello.”

“Hey,” he says, striving for casual. “What brings you here at – this time in the evening?”

Kanaya blinks.

“I didn't – ” She stops, starts again. “I hadn't – checked the time. I just came. If it's unduly inconvenient, I can leave.”

“No,” Karkat says, a little too loud. “No, it's fine.” He moves to sit beside her at the consumption surface. “Totally okay.”

“If you're sure,” Kanaya says.

He gives a hurried nod.

“Completely, one hundred percent sure. Totally fine. Not inconvenient at all. The fuck else am I gonna be doing at this hour?”

Dirk places a cylinder of coffee in front of him before he can suggest sleeping or snuggling with his moirail.

“Thanks,” he says and means, good timing.

“So, what's up?” he asks again.

Kanaya looks at him, then at Dirk. Dirk takes a step back from the consumption surface.

“I can go, if you want,” he says.

Kanaya shakes her head.

“No,” she says. “No. This is – you should know. It's just that I can't think of a way to say it that won't upset you.”

Dirk's expression doesn't change but Karkat thinks he's having trouble knowing how to react to that.

“Just say it,” Karkat suggests. “Dirk's a big boy. He can take it.”

Kanaya bites her lower lip and, wow, it looks like she's been doing a lot of that. There's no trace of lipstick left. Dirk moves to retake his seat.

“I suppose so,” she says. “It's just – difficult.”

She pauses, again, for so long Karkat wonders if she needs another prompt to continue. The timepiece on the wall is as loud as her silence.

“I had to,” she begins, then begins again. “It's about Rose. She is – not well.”

Karkat ignores the sudden pounding of his own heart to chance a look at Dirk, who only looks harder at Kanaya. He feels his own brow begin to furrow.

“I took her to the vet about – ” She looks around for the timepiece. “Seven hours ago.”

Late morning, then, well after regular business hours. No one would have been in, unless –

“I trolled Tavros before I – He met us there. Her symptoms are – extreme.” Karkat sees Dirk swallow.

“They must have come on pretty fast,” Dirk says and his voice is steady.

“They did,” Kanaya agrees. “She was perfectly all right for most of the night. I did not think anything was wrong when she retreated to her block but then she refused supper and had become – immobile. She is in a substantial amount of pain.”

A scratching rends the air behind her words and they look down to find she's left clawmarks in the consumption surface.

“Oh,” she says. “Fuck. I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry about it,” Karkat says. “This thing's a piece of shit, anyway, we paid like twenty at Trollwill.” He'd say the same either way, but this happens to be true. Most of their furnishings are second-hand. “You took her to see Tavros?”

“I – yes.” Kanaya stares at him, at the scratches in the surface, and back again. “Yes. And Tavros – ran some tests. We've been there all day. He sent me home to rest but I – didn't want to go. So I thought you might not mind if I stopped by.”

“Of course we don't,” Dirk says, because he can see Karkat's bloodpusher breaking. “If any troll's welcome here, it's you, Kanaya. Does Tavros have any idea what's going on?”

She shakes her head.

“He refuses to commit to an answer. When I – persisted – he suggested pancreatitis. I – don't know what that means.”

“Inflammation of the pancreas,” Dirk supplies. “But it's not really specific. He doesn't know what's causing it?”

“No,” she says. “He has no idea.”

Dirk rises and absconds when they hear Sollux on the stairs – going to intercept him and hand over the necessary details, probably, and Karkat appreciates that. Kanaya doesn't need to go through explaining it – or hearing someone else explain it – again.

He slides his chair closer to hers and reaches out to touch her elbow; she's propped them both on the table, face in her palms, fingers in her hair. She makes a soft, sad sound when he makes contact but doesn't look over.

“Kanaya,” he says and has no follow up. There's nothing to say. So he just slides his arm around her back and rubs her side; slow, up and down, the only comfort he can provide.

Sollux comes in first, takes one look at them, and drags a chair over to sit on Kanaya's other side. He says, “Hey, KN,” and draws one of her hands from her hair, cradling it in both of his.

“Sollux,” she says and turns her face towards him. “Hello. Did Dirk – ?”

“He told me, yeah. Shit ith terrible.”

Karkat rubs her side a little harder.

“Yes,” she says. “It is. Shit is completely terrible.”

“Totally,” Sollux says. “Utterly. Comprehenthively terrible. But it could thtill be worthe. We've got the Nitramth on the job.” He offers a half smile to Kanaya and then to Karkat, over her head. “They'll figure out what'th wrong and fikth it.”

Kanaya lets out a little huff of air.

“You sound so certain,” she says.

“Yeah, well.” Sollux shrugs. He's been rubbing her hand between his, like it's physical warmth she needs. “It'th their job, ithn't it? And I've heard they're pretty thatithfactory at it.”

“I suppose.” Kanaya sighs, shoves her free hand through her hair and sits back in her seat. Karkat lets his arm drop.

“Don't thuppothe, Kanaya,” Sollux says. “TR thaved Rokthy after her overdothe. You remember that?”

Kanaya winces and nods.

“See? Thatithfactory. They can fikth Rothe, too.”

“But they knew what was wrong with Roxy,” she says. “He had no idea – ”

“Pancreatitith,” Sollux interrupts. “Sure, they don't know what'th cauthing it yet but they can figure it out. Jutht – trutht them, okay? You wouldn't have taken her in if you didn't.”

Kanaya looks away, towards the thermal hull.

“I suppose,” she says, again.

Karkat rests his hand on her shoulder and she turns to give him a weak smile. He does his best to return it.

“What Sollux said,” he tells her. “It'll be fine. Rose will be fine.”

His voice rises and cracks on the last words, making Sollux snort and Kanaya's smile grow more genuine.

“You are tho bad at thith, KK,” Sollux says.

“Hey.” He leans in to glare past Kanaya. “Fuck you, assface.”

Sollux snorts again. Kanaya chuckles.

“I'm afraid I have to agree with Sollux,” she says. “Your attempts to provide comfort would be more effective if you weren't so obviously distraught yourself.”

“Well, fuck you, too.” He folds his arms across his chest. “See if I ever try to offer you sympathy again.”

“Hey, now.” She reaches out to touch his wrist. “I never said I didn't appreciate your efforts.”

He huffs but allows her to take his hand.

“Fuck you,” he repeats and squeezes.

She squeezes back.

From the entryway, Dirk says, “You know what this touching scene right here needs? Food. Food is what this touching scene needs.”

Chapter Text

Kanaya begins to wilt, once there's some food inside her; apparently attention to one biological need brings all the others screaming to the fore. The temptation to let her fall asleep on the rec block multiseat unit is immense but sense says she needs sopor to fend off the nightmares her troubled mind will inevitably try to feed her. Karkat and Dirk offer to escort her home and she agrees; they worry about that.

Kanaya and Porrim live in High Trollville, the artsy neighborhood with all the good coffee shops. They take the bus out and walk three blocks to the Maryam hive and she doesn't say anything more than 'thank you' on the way. Karkat holds her hand and barely notices Dirk staring down anyone who seems ready to question them for bringing a human on public transit.

When they make it to the hive – modest, with a much less modest garden – Porrim meets them at the door. She's dressed for a morning out, still, like she just got in or hasn't bothered changing and the anxiety in her face turns to determination when she catches sight of Kanaya.

“Cocoon,” she says and draws her in for a brief, hard hug.

“I need to tell you,” Kanaya begins, then presses her face into Porrim's shoulder.

“Karkat and Dirk can get me up to speed,” Porrin says and lets go only to hold her at arm's length.

“Cocoon. Now.”

Kanaya opens her mouth and closes it, then nods. She looks to Karkat and Dirk, lurking by the entry portal.

“Thank you,” she says. “I'll just – ” She gestures up the stairs.

“Cocoon,” Karkat says. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Dirk agrees. “Go on, dude, you need it.”

“Thank you,” she says again, and goes.

They watch her ascent, feet a little unsteady on the steps, but she makes it to the top safely and vanishes round the corner. After a moment, they hear a door close and water begins running.

Porrim turns her eyes back to Dirk and Karkat. Karkat has no idea what's showing on his face but it seems to decide her.

“Coffee first,” she says and turns away. “This way.”

Her high heels make no sound on the plush carpet in the entryway and clink against the dark nutrition block tile. Karkat's sneakers squeak; Dirk, in his boots, makes no sound at all.

“Sit,” Porrim says as she goes to the coffee machine, already three-quarters full. There's a handled beverage cylinder on one side of the consumption surface and Dirk and Karkat take seats away from it.

“Karkat,” she says. “Do you take sweetening agent and butler milk?”

Karkat swallows once and is surprised to find his eyes feel hot again.

“Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “Lots.”

“Dirk?”

“No, thanks,” he says and Karkat kicks him.

Dirk doesn't flinch but he does reach for Karkat's wrist. His grip is solid but not painful and after a moment Karkat's irritation subsides.

“Fuck you,” he mutters, because he has nothing else to say.

“Uh-huh,” Dirk says. “Fuck you, too. Thank you, Porrim.”

It's better quality coffee than the cheap bulk shit they keep in their hive; everything the Maryam's have is good quality.

A thought begins to form, something sad and unpleasant, something about Rose, and Karkat stomps on it.

Thought-stopping.

His therapist would be so proud.

Porrim takes her seat, back straight and head high, and wraps her hands around the abandoned beverage cylinder.

“I came home an hour ago,” she tells them, “to find my hatchmate and my human gone. There was no note and no message on my palmhusk. I checked. More than once. You've returned my hatchmate, which I appreciate, but this household is still down a member.” She pauses to take a drink of coffee.

“From Kanaya's demeanor,” she continues, “and yours, Karkat, I can only suppose something is wrong with Rose. I also suppose she's currently in the Nitram's care, or no force planetside could have induced Kanaya to part with her. How am I doing?”

Karkat opens his mouth. Nothing comes out and Dirk touches his wrist, again.

“Beautiful and intelligent,” Dirk says. “If I were interested in women, you'd have ruined me for all others.”

“We'll talk about your human mutations some other time,” she says, but gently. “How bad is it?”

Karkat opens his mouth again. This time, a sound falls out.

He shakes off Dirk's grip and buries his face in his hands as Dirk explains exactly how bad it is. At some point someone, probably Dirk, begins rubbing his back, which is dumb, it's so dumb. Rose isn't his human, he's not in need of comfort here, and anyway he's not crying, he's not, he's just – trying not to and it's hard. It's so hard, thinking of Rose, small and pale, with her highblood eyes and golden hair, how slow she moves when she's being deliberate, that slowness turning into lethargy, becoming stillness and it's hard, okay, it's hard not crying and thinking of all that, it's hard and Dirk understands. Porrim, too.

When he comes back to himself she's saying, “I'll call down to the clinic and get an update. It's been several hours since Kanaya left so they might have found something.” There's a determination in her face, her voice, that Karkat finds comforting. He can almost believe something has been found.

Sweeps in the past (but not many):

There was an empty hive in Old Trollville: four respite blocks and two ablution on the top two floors, with a spare loadgaper at ground level, tucked behind the nutrition block. It had garment cleansing devices and large lawn squares, with trees suitable for climbing and a privacy fence out back. The previous owners had left their flatscreen TV on the wall above the recreation block flame containment recess and there was plenty of built-in shelving in almost every block. And, in almost every block, the paint job was gaudy and hideous to an almost Makaran level.

They could fix that, though. Karkat was considering suitable colors before he'd made it to the first respite block.

At his side, Sollux was smug as a slitherbeast, grinning a toothy grin at Karkat over Dirk's head.

“I knew you'd like it,” he said, when Karkat asked what the fuck he was so happy about.

Karkat scowled up at the blocks of shelving in the fourth respite block – the one on the top floor in the back, which he had, in his head, already claimed as his own. Without answering, he said, “Who the fuck paints a block neon green? How the fuck did they sleep in here?”

“In a cocoon,” Sollux said. “Like anybody elthe.”

Dirk cleared his throat.

“Like any troll elthe,” Sollux amended, and turned his eyes to the nearest wall. “Maybe they were limebloodth?” he said. “Or just really into green?”

“It's revolting,” Karkat said. “We're painting this one first.”

Sollux giggled, that rough flutter of sound that made Karkat want to simultaneously punch him and get closer.

“Ehehehe. Sure, KK. I'll put it on the agenda.”

“Fuck you, if there's an agenda to be made, I'm the one making it. How soon can we move in? Do you have the domicile transfer requests?”

“Already thubmitted.” Sollux said, and stepped closer to his side. He shifted Dirk to one hip and threaded his now-free arm through Karkat's.

“I forged your thign. Hope you don't mind.”

Karkat gave a warning growl but didn't shake him off.

Sollux laughed again.

“Domithile tranthfer requetht for two trollth, requiring accommodation for two human petth. Thtraight-forward application. We should be in within the perigee.”

“What did you put for my reason for relocation? 'If I have to live with my hatchmate for one more hour we'll have an act of out-of-quadrant violence on our hands'?”

“Ehehe. No. I jutht thaid you wanted to move in with your fated moirail.”

Karkat turned and stared at him.

“Fated – ? We aren't registered. You haven't even asked me.”

“Sure we're regithtered.” Sollux's smug expression hadn't changed but there was a new tinge of yellow to his face and he wasn't meeting Karkat's eyes. “We regithtered in the latht rainy theathon.”

“Beastshit we did.”

“It'th in the computer thythtem, KK. The thythtem doethn't lie.”

Karkat stared at him, was aware of his mouth hanging open and his widened eyes. He stared until the faint yellow blush had darkened and spread down Sollux's slender neck, then swallowed hard and looked at the wall again. He was holding on tight to Sollux's arm.

“Well,” he said and tried to clear his throat. There was some kind of obstruction. “If the system says we're fa – fated moirails. Then they can't really refuse, huh?”

His eyes felt hot.

“Nope,” said Sollux. “They really can't. They – KK. Karkat, you mathive fucking wiggler.”

Karkat had time enough to sniffle before allowing himself to be pulled into Sollux's arms and burying his face in his neck.

“Fuck you,” he said and sniffled again.

“Uh-huh, fuck you twithe.”

His voice was softer, warmer than it had been since they first got together and it made Karkat cry harder.

“Shoosh,” Sollux said. “Come on, you giant pain in my athth. Pathetic excuthe for a troll. Shoosh.”

“Can't fucking believe you,” Karkat muttered. “You are the least romantic – you didn't even ask me. Why didn't you ask?”

There was a pause. Sollux papped the back of his head and said, “Shoosh.”

Karkat choked on a fresh wave of tears.

“You complete and utter fuck-up,” he said. “Like I could ever say no to you.”

“You thay no to me all the time, KK. Like every time I want to teach you to hack properly.”

“Like I need you to teach me anything, you pitiful, nooksniffing dumbfuck. You're the one who thought I'd say no.”

Sollux's arms were so tight around him it made him short of breath but he wasn't going to protest, wasn't going to loosen his own grip even a little.

“It wath a pothibility.”

“No it wasn't. Fuckass.”

“KK – ”

“It fucking wasn't. Ever. So get that the fuck out of your head and – where's Dirk?”

The question fell out of his mouth before it was done forming in his brain and as one they looked up and around. No Dirk.

“Weren't you holding him?”

“I wath. But then you thtarted crying tho I put him down.”

“Where the fuck did he go?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

They found him on the second floor, in the respite block over-looking the front lawn square, staring around the long room with his hands on his hips, unconcerned by the concern he'd caused.

“This one's mine,” he told them, as Karkat scooped him up again, and that was the final word.

The present:

Nothing has been found. Rose is no worse and no better and nothing has been found. Tavros is suggesting exploratory surgery.

“Let's exhaust our options before resorting to that,” Porrim tells him and the fingers of her free hand are drumming against the consumption surface. “Of course,” she says. “Yes. Thank you, Tavros. We'll be here. She's in her cocoon. I'll see to it. Goodbye.”

She hangs up her palmhusk and lays it on the surface, careful as though it's something much more fragile.

“Nothing?” Dirk says.

“No,” Porrim replies. “Nothing. Only that nutrition is important and, if we'll pardon the advice of a veterinarian rather than a troll doctor, Kanaya needs to consume some.”

“Ugh,” Karkat says. “Surgery? Fucking really? They just want to cut her open and see what's going on?”

Porrim's lips press a little tighter. “That is the general idea, yes. And if there are no other options – ” She stops.

“Fuck that,” Karkat says.

Dirk says, “Karkat,” and he stops before the rant can begin. Dirk looks over to him and adds, “Shoosh,” to make him sputter.

“Fuck – fuck! Fuck you, fuck! You – You're disgusting, I have a moirail!”

“Who's not here, right now,” Dirk says. “I'm selflessly taking on pacification duties in his stead.”

“Fuck you again, you are not. I don't need pacifying, I am fine, I am fucking serene, I am the moon, fuckface, and if I did need pacifying it wouldn't be from you, I practically changed your human diapers, you gogdamn weirdo.”

He's hit an octave that generally has Sollux feeling for his face without looking up from his husktop and Dirk actually starts to reach out, papward. Karkat squawks and throws himself back, toppling his seat and landing hard on top of it on the nutrition block floor. The nutrition preparation utensils hanging from the wall rattle in melodious counterpoint to his continued curses. Dirk lets his hand fall back to his lap.

“Just trying to help,” he says, and another stream of curses starts up.

When Dirk sneaks a look at Porrim, she's smiling. Mission complete.

After Roxy finds out she insists on visiting and on visiting she insists on staying. Karkat expected and should have expected these things, respectively.

“I'm not leaving her,” she tells him in the hall outside Rose's block. It's small, standard for a vet's exam block, with the table folded against the wall and a small cot taking up half the scant floor space. There's a screen on the wall that Karkat has noticed, before, but never seen turned on and watching the steady rhythm of the heart monitor is easier than looking at the pale oval of Rose's face.

“It isn't abandonment to leave someone in the care of medical professionals,” he says.

Roxy only repeats, “I'm not leaving her.”

“I don't think Tavros and Rufioh are going to let you just stay in there indefinitely,” he tries.

Tavros, hovering at Karkat's shoulder, says, “Yes, um, Roxy, we don't generally allow, visitors to, um, do that.”

“Try and stop me,” Roxy says. And then, once again, “I'm not leaving her.”

“She won't be alone,” Tavros says. “I'll be, um, on premises until she is, well enough to go home.”

“Then I can keep you company, too,” Roxy says. “Because, did I mention? I'm not leaving her.”

Chapter Text

Sweeps in the past (but not many):

Roxy took the other room on the third floor and refused to have the noxious pink walls repainted. Karkat suspected her of spite; Sollux just laughed.

He was doing a lot of that, lately. Either the impending relocation was as much of a relief to him as it was to Karkat or he was about to swing manic; maybe both.

Roxy's selection left Sollux on the second floor in the back, a large block with small windows, sufficient to hold his hives, and that was all he needed. He professed not to care about the color of the walls but Karkat refused to let his fated moirail stay in a block the color of his own ex. It was a matter of principle and also a matter of wanting to be able to creep in to snuggle without being reminded of relationships past.

He also refused to allow Dirk to paint his room bright orange. That one was just principle.

The decorating decisions kept Karkat occupied in the days it took to receive his relocation confirmation. It kept him really occupied. Too occupied to think of a single solitary other thing for four full nights and then he was standing in the recreation block of Kankri's hive – just Kankri's – looking down at the letter and freaking out just a little bit.

He really had no idea how this conversation was going to go.

Karkat headed for his own respite block and knocked to let Dirk know he was coming in. He wasn't going to miss that; he wasn't going to miss a lot of things.

“S'up?” Dirk said from his seat on his pile, sketchbook propped on his knees.

Karkat stared at him, this weird, pale creature he'd been sharing space with for perigees, now, and held up the letter.

Dirk raised his eyebrows; from the way one arched higher than the other, Karkat deduced only it was supposed to go up at all.

“That it?” Dirk asked and put the sketchbook aside.

“That's it,” Karkat said. He took a few steps closer, holding the letter out for him to take. “We're in.”

“Sweet.”

Dirk took the letter and examined it.

“We can move in in three nights,” he noted. “Or any of the fifteen nights following.”

“Three nights,” Karkat said.

“Definitely.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Karkat was beginning to learn Dirk, to see past the ocular shields, but it was a long road to understanding. He only suspected gratitude.

“I better tell Kankri we're going,” he said.

Dirk's eyebrow hiked again. It was a better effort than before.

“Dude,” he said. “You haven't done that, yet?”

“Yeah well.” Karkat hunched his shoulders. “It's not a conversation I'm particularly fucking anxious to be having.”

“Dude,” Dirk said again.

“Fuck you,” said Karkat, and turned towards the door.

The present:

The Amporas still have the inflatable respite platform from back when they first adopted Dave and Karkat swings by to see if he can borrow it for Roxy's vigil. Eridan's not in – at work, dumbfuck productive member of society he is – but Cronus is there and he answers the portal with Dave on his hip. Dave's still small, but regular meals and sleep have filled out his body and filled in the hollows under his eyes – not that they're visible, with the pointy ocular shields, little replicas of Dirk's, permanently attached to his face.

The trolls barely have time to exchange greetings before he's piping up, “Where's Dirk?”

Karkat snorts.

“Hello to you, too, Strider, nice to see you, how's life treating you and your dumbass ocular shields?”

“Dirk,” Dave demands again and Cronus sighs.

“You're bein' rude, Dave. I know Eri's taught you better manners than that.”

Dave frowns.

“Hi, Karkat,” he says. “Where's Dirk?”

Cronus opens his mouth to speak again but Karkat waves him quiet.

“Good enough,” he says. “My devoted human companion is over at the Maryam's place, still. Did you guys hear about Rose?”

“Yeah,” Cronus says. “Porrim called to let us know, seeing as how Dave is her hatchmate an' all. Eridan's gonna take him to visit when he gets off work. Apparently I ain't allowed around Rufioh unsupervised or I'd do it, like he ain't just as bad.”

Karkat skips over this aside and just says, “Well, they'll be seeing Roxy, too,” then explains his errand.

“Sure,” Cronus says. “It's put away in Eri's storage recess someplace. C'mon in and I'll find it for you.”

Coming inside includes being passed an armful of baby and Karkat holds Dave close as he follows Cronus through the recreation block.

“I can walk,” Dave points out.

“And wreak havoc when we let you,” Cronus says. “Be good and we'll get back to music-makin' once Karkat's gone, okay?”

Dave seems to accept this and makes no further protest at being held. Karkat stands with him in the portal to Eridan's block as Cronus searches the storage recess, idly noting that both the décor and the quantity of clothing lying around are exactly what he would have expected, had he ever given a thought to what Eridan's respite block might look like. There are floor to ceiling curtains, a little canopy shelter over the recuperacoon, and the deskchair is a wingback. A selection of feather quills sits in a jar on the desk and Karkat wonders if they're real or ballpoint. Probably some of each, he decides.

“You know,” he says, “I half-expected to find Kankri over here when I came by. It's been that kind of week.”

Cronus freezes and Karkat remember, belatedly, which Ampora he's talking to. Before he can form an apology, Cronus clears his throat and replies.

“Eh. Nah. Kankri ain't been around so much. Not since I told him where to get off, I mean.”

Karkat blinks, apology forgotten.

“Since you did what, now?”

Cronus looks back and away, then shrugs.

“Since I – told him where to shove it, I guess. With the whole human thing.” He coughs and, in the dim light (why does Eridan use such low-watt bulbs? Is it supposed to seem romantic? Who, exactly, does he think he's going to be romancing while he's tripping over all the shit he can't see on the floor?), Karkat thinks the back of his neck has tinted purple.

“He came by after the whole fight thing at the meet-up,” Cronus continues. “Just to see how we were doin'. But then he started in one the human-lib-is-abusive shit, said some stuff about Dirk and – ”

“What stuff?” Karkat's spoken before he's even consciously registered what Cronus said.

“Sorry?” Cronus is looking over his shoulder, again, biting his lip.

“What stuff about Dirk?”

“Oh.” Cronus looks away again. “Just bullshit, Kar, you don't need to hear that.”

Karkat's about to protest that, yes, actually, he really does, when Cronus adds, “And neither does Davey.”

Karkat looks down at the child forgotten in his arms and Dave looks back, impassive. Karkat holds him a little tighter.

“Fine,” he says. “So he said some shit. Then what?”

“Then nothin', really.” Cronus is holding a cardboard box, now, but he's still standing in the storage recess entryway, not moving. “I told him to shut the fuck up and get the fuck out because we ain't havin' shit like that in our hive. An' he said some more stuff, about my language, I guess, but he left. I ain't seen him since.”

There's a wistfulness to this last that Karkat recognizes but can't quite empathize with, not in connection with Kankri, so he doesn't say anything at all. Cronus takes this as an invitation to go on.

“Dunno what I expected, really. Like he was just gonna recant and be all, human rights, yeah, just cause I said some shit? I just thought – but you ain't here for my pity party.” He turns and brings the box over. “Here's the platform. It's little, but Roxy ain't a big hume. It'll do.”

There's a want, a yearning in Cronus's face and Karkat knows his lines, knows exactly what Cronus wants him to say, wants him to offer. But Karkat already has a moirail.

He says, “Yeah, thanks,” and puts Dave down to accept the box.

Cronus sends Dave back to his block, promising to be there presently, and, after securing a vow that Dirk will come for a visit soon, Dave goes and Cronus walks Karkat to the door. He lingers in the portal, thinking, and just as Cronus is about to close it in his face, he says, “Hey, Cronus. You did good, okay? With Kankri. You did good.”

And he absconds.

It takes three nights to exhaust other options. Kanaya has steadied, by then, though she looks grayer when she comes by, which is every night after visiting Rose. When Porrim comes, on the first and third nights, she looks determined. Dirk gets the idea she's mainline veterinary schoolfeeding herself if there were time and he suggests as much, she doesn't smile; she just agrees.

They drink coffee in the kitchen while Kanaya is in the rec block with Sollux and Karkat, doing something that isn't a feelings jam but involves just as many snuggles and handkerchiefs.

Dirk glances in on his way to the coffee machine and sees Sollux's arm around Kanaya's shoulders and Karkat's head in her lap and wonders who the hell they think they're fooling, other than themselves.

He fills Porrim's handled beverage cylinder and adds sweetening agent before bringing it back to her.

“How are they?” she asks as he sets it down in front of her.

“Fucking pallid,” he says. “I think they're watching that rainbow drinker movie with Troll Brad Pitt. Again.”

“In which a midblood rainbow drinker is interviewed by a lowblood writer and tells him the story of his life, beginning as a plantation owner, etc? It is Kanaya's favorite; I have a fondness for it myself. The highblood is the only role I have ever enjoyed Troll Tom Cruise in.”

“Yeah, and Troll Antonio Banderes is hot as a green sun. But they watched it last night, too. And the night before.”

Porrim is smiling at him, just a little.

“Rainbow drinkers are out cinematic equivalent of comfort food,” she says. “There's nothing wrong with that.”

“Comfort food is fine in moderation,” Dirk replies, and looks towards the recreation block again. “I think Kanaya's risking an overdose.”

“Moderation goes against the very nature of comfort food. That being, by the time you start eating it, you're past giving a shit about moderation.”

Dirk gives a thoughtful hum and looks at his seat at the table.

“Point,” he says. “Do you want to go watch the movie?”

That gets a smile out of her.

“No, thank you,” she says. “I'm content with your company if you're content with mine.”

Dirk tips her a nod and sits down again.

“But of course,” he says. “Who wouldn't be content with your company, Miss Maryam?”

“It doesn't do to assume these things, Mr Strider,” she replies and they look at each other, laughing without making a sound.

Seconds pass and Porrim's smile begins to take on a more thoughtful cast. Dirk clears his throat and asks the question he's needed to ask since the Maryams arrived.

“Surgery tomorrow?”

Porrim's face loses its animation, goes blank and hard as she looks away.

“Yes,” she says. “Rufioh will perform it first thing in the evening. We should know the results by midnight.”

“How is Rose feeling about it?”

“Terrified, obviously. She doesn't quite understand what's happening. Which is to be expected, given we don't either.” She pauses and takes a long drink from her coffee. “She agreed to the surgery.”

“That's good,” Dirk says and Porrim shoots him a glare.

“We wouldn't have agreed to it if she hadn't.”

“I know,” Dirk says. “I never thought otherwise. Porrim.”

She's looking away, again, letting thick hair fall between them. He reaches out to touch her shoulder and finds the sweater under his hand is softer than any fabric he's yet encountered. She shrugs his off but turns to meet his eyes. It's a trick not many can manage, next to none outside Roxy and his lusii, and it makes him blink.

“I apologize,” she says. “I don't know why I snapped.”

“No problem.” He reaches out to touch her shoulder, again, and this time she lets him. Her hair is heavy, each strand thick and smooth, and it's a pleasant contrast over the plush softness of her sweater. “You're under kind of a lot of stress, just at the moment. Dunno if you noticed.”

“Am I?” She raises one eyebrow and lifts her hand to touch his, where it rests against her hair. “I suppose I am. I'm still sorry. You didn't deserve that. You of all people – ”

“Apology accepted,” he cuts in. “Let's forget about it. And talk about something else.” He turns his hand to hold hers and gives it a squeeze. “Okay?”

Her smile is back, lovely if faint. She squeezes back.

“Okay.”

Porrim shows up again the evening of the surgery, armed with a half-stitched quilt, straight pins, a long measuring stick and a fabric marking pencil.

“Kanaya is at the Nitram's office,” she tells Dirk when he answers the portal. “She'll call when they've finished. Come help me with this.”

They set up on the rec block floor and the next two hours are devoted to pinning in place layers of fabric and batting, drawing a slanted grid for the eventual stitches to follow, then repinning inside the blocks and redrawing where the initial lines ran over pins. Under Porrim's tutelage, Dirk learns to work from the middle out, forcing wrinkles off the edges rather than bunching in the center. It's a calming exercise, requiring focus but little creative thought, and Dirk finds he can understand the appeal.

“I didn't know you made quilts,” he tells her, as he repositions one of large safety pins anchoring a corner.

“I make a lot of things.” She's working with the measuring stick on the opposite corner. “Quilts are one of the most time-consuming. I've been working on this one for about three perigees.”

“It's nice,” he offers. It has a lavender base and a central panel of charcoal gray, with a darker purple tentacle creature in the center. The back is soft white flannel. “Applique, right?”

“That's correct. I prefer it to patchwork.”

She sets the measuring stick and marking pencil in the middle of the quilt and begins to rearrange the pins as Dirk reaches for them.

“You know,” he says, carefully angling the stick to follow the other lines, “she's going to be okay.” He looks up to see Porrim pause in her work, pins in hand. After a long moment she starts moving again.

“You can't possibly know that,” she says.

“Maybe not know,” he agrees. “But I believe it. She's in the best possible hands. Have a little faith, okay? This is a quilt, not a funeral shroud.”

Porrim doesn't answer for a long time. They work in silence, swapping tools, until they're nearing the end of the task. The next step is actually stitching the quilt together and Porrim didn't bring the thread for it. Dirk is considering whether the supplies he keeps for his smuppets would be suitable when he hears a quiet, “Yes, it is.”

For a moment he confused; but then he looks up and remembers.

And then Porrim's palmhusk rings.

Chapter Text

There's a chair in Karkat's block, roomy and squishy and made of dark gray hoofbeast hide. It's tucked away in a corner, obscured by a shelf, and has a small table in front of it, suitable for curling up to watching romcoms on his husktop. Sometimes he even does that.

Usually, though, when it's occupied, it's occupied by Sollux. Karkat prefers his moirail's lap.

That's where he's nestled, face in Sollux's neck, wrapped in Sollux's arms, when the knock comes on the respite block entry portal. Karkat lets go of Sollux's shirt with a sigh and begins to disentangle himself to answer it but Sollux won't release him.

“Leggo,” he mutters and is answered by a snort.

“Not fucking likely,” Sollux says and paps Karkat's head before calling out, “Come in!”

“Sollux!” Karkat squirms to get up but a crackle of psionics stays his movement. “Fucking cheater!” he says and Sollux uses one now-free hand to cup his face.

“Shoosh,” he says. “Hey, Dirk.”

Karkat snaps his head around – at least Sollux hasn't immobilized that – and sees Dirk standing in the middle of the respite block, one hand over his ocular shields.

“Am I interrupting?” he asks.

Karkat growls.

Sollux says, “Yeth. But it'th okay. You hear from KN?”

Dirk nods.

“The surgery was a success,” he says and a knot of tension goes out of Karkat's back. “They found a blockage in her intestines. It looked like 'some kind of watery tumor' according to Nitram. He's never seen anything like it.”

“But they got it out?” Karkat asks.

“Sort of. They didn't actually remove it, but they drained it so it wasn't blocking her anymore.”

“Drained it?” Sollux says.

“That's what Kanaya said. Porrim's going to join them at the vet's and I'm going with. We'll be back in a while.”

“I'm going, too,” Karkat says and begins to fight his psionic bindings.

“No, you aren't,” Dirk and Sollux say at the same time. Karkat stares between them.

“The fuck not?”

Sollux exchanges a look with Dirk and cedes the floor.

“Because there's no point,” Dirk says. “Rose is sleeping off the anesthesia, now, and we won't even get to see her. On the off chance she wakes up, we don't want to overwhelm her with a half dozen people standing over her.”

“If there's no point, why the fuck are you going?”

“Porrim asked me.”

There's not much more Karkat can say to that. He hisses and grumbles on general principle but once Dirk is gone and Sollux has removed his psionics, he doesn't move from his lap. Rather, he slumps closer, hiding his face in his shoulder, and doesn't say a word. Sollux wraps him up in his arms, again, and strokes along the tense curve of his back.

“It'll be okay, you know,” he says.

Karkat grunts.

“Last I checked your spooky mind powers included neither omniscence nor precognition, so how about you just shut the fuck about shit you can't possibly know?”

He'd be asking for it, if they weren't snuggling in the gray chair. He'd get his ass handed to him, at worst, end up embroiled in a long and pointless exchange of profanity-laden insults, at best. He'd end up asking if they were still moirails, somewhere along the line, and Sollux would laugh at him and they'd be okay. No harm would be done, but it would take a while, if they weren't in the gray chair.
But they are in the gray chair, and they're snuggling, and Karkat's not really in the mood for a bitchfight, tonight. From the way he sighs, he doesn't think Sollux is, either.

“It'll be okay,” Sollux says again and this time, Karkat doesn't argue.

Sweeps in the past (but not many):

Kankri's respite block was actually two blocks: one larger, accessible from a hallway beside the nutrition block, and a smaller one through a portal inside that. He slept in the smaller one, Karkat assumed, though he'd never been in it, or even seen its door opened. He was guessing at its dimensions based on the surrounding architecture.

The larger block was Kankri's intellectual pursuit block and its portal was always open, the better to catch unwary hatchmates and humans as they passed in search of solid or liquid sustenance. Karkat had been playing with the idea of a miniature thermal hull since he moved in but that was a moot point, now.

Kankri was in the block, bent over his horizontal work surface, as usual, scribbling in a journal with a couple of books open around him. The whole block was full of books, none of which Karkat had any desire to read. He suspected the porn was in the respite block.

He took a moment to watch his hatchmate's profile – identical to his own, save slightly neater hair – and wonder how the hell they came from the species, let alone virtually the same genetic code. Maybe wearing sweaters was a sign of their alleged simularities?

Karkat snorted, getting a jump from Kankri. The pen jerked and he made a noise that might have been a curse, properly tagged.

“Karkat,” he said, when he got a look at the entry portal. “I didn't expect – Did you need something?” He booked both bewildered and hopeful, with a splash of fear around the eyes. Dude had no idea how to deal with being sought out.

“Yeah,” Karkat said. “A word, if you've got a minute.”

Kankri looked at his work surface then back at Karkat.

“I am in the midst of some very important work,” he said. “The deadline for submissions to the Alternian Disability Journal is in ten nights and this article could well be a turning point in how disability is viewed in troll society, assuming I'm able to finish it in time. There's an unfortunate scarcity of sources concerning taste privilege and the taste impaired so I may, loathe though I am to go down the road of self-congratulation, be forced to cite my own word on smell impairment to buttress my arguments. However, you are my hatchmate and I am, of course, happy to put your concerns ahead of my scholarship, should it become necessary. Of course I have a minute.”

Karkat blinked a couple of times.

“Okay,” he said. “Great.”

“What did you wish to discuss? If it concerns my serm – our conversation about hemophobia in your romance novels, I have some literature on the subject – ”

“No,” Karkat said. “It's not that.”

“The hemoanonymity again, then? Much as it pains me to decline an invitation to lect – discuss a subject so close to both of us I don't think it would be wise to start in on that topic again while my attention is distracted – ”

“I'm moving out,” Karkat broke in.

Kankri fell silent.

Seconds passed and Karkat could read nothing but vague surprise in his face.

“Sollux and I found a hive in Old Trollville. He's my fated moirail and living together is the next logical step. And I want to,” he added, when a flicker of speech came into Kankri's eyes. “We've already submitted the paperwork and I got my relocation confirmation today. We'll be out in three nights.” He paused to see if Kankri had any response. He didn't. “I just – thought you should know.”

Kankri blinked and seemed to shake himself.

“I see,” he said. “Well. I didn't realize – But, yes. Thank you. For letting me know. Dirk and I will be sad to see you go, of course, but wishing to live with your moirail is – understandable. I look forward to visiting you in your new hive. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must get back to work on this.”

Kankri turned back to his work surface. Karkat spent about two seconds wondering if he should clarify that his 'we' included Dirk, too, then absconded. Kankri would figure it would soon enough.

The present:

Roxy comes home with Dirk and from the way Karkat reacts you'd think she's been the one at death's door; he's on her as soon as she clears the entry portal, dragging her into an insistent hug, grumbling profanity. She accepts this as her due and hugs back insofar as his grip allows it.

“It's fine, KK,” she says. “I'm fine, Rose will be fine, everything's fine. Stop freaking out already.”

“Fuck you,” Karkat says, still holding onto her. “You're not my moirail, I'll freak out as much as I damn well please.”

“Oh, fuck, no,” Sollux says, and puts his hand on the back of Karkat's neck. “You will not. And you'll thtop fucking thmothering Roxy, too.”

“Fuck you, too,” Karkat replies but slackens his grip enough for Rosy to slip free.

“Hi, Sollux,” she says. “How's it going?”

“Eh,” he says. “You know. Thame ath ever. How'd thingth go on your end?”

Roxy's mouth turns down and the corners of her eyes tense but her voice is steady when she answers. “Not great,” she says. “Rose was really sick. But Tavros and Rufioh were great and they say she should be fine, now.”

“Thweet,” says Sollux.

Dirk, standing by the entry portal, speaks before he can go on.

“How about we continue this conversation someplace that's not the entry hall? And maybe at a time that's not now?”

“What's wrong with now?” Karkat asks.

“Nothing,” says Roxy.

Dirk tilts his head at her. “Tavros told me Roxy hasn't slept more than an hour or two at a stretch since she came in. She needs rest.”

“I have so,” she says. “That's shit, what does Tavros know?”

“Tavros knows that either he or Rufioh has been checking on Roxy, in person or over a video feed, every hour for her entire stay and that you were never seen sleeping more than twice in a row. And there were entirely too few instances of you sleeping at all.”

“Snitch,” Roxy says.

“Vet,” says Dirk. “Your vet.” He looks at Karkat and Sollux. “You guys are the authority figures, here. Roxy needs rest.”

Sollux nods.

Karkat says, “The fuck is it with you people and not sleeping? Do you think that by slowly bleeding out your own strength it'll pass on to her?”

Sollux's fingers flex on the back of his neck and he closes his mouth with a click.

“Go on to your rethpite platform, Roxy,” Sollux says. “Dirk can update uth on whatever we need to know. You can give uth your vigil play-by-play later.”

“But I'm fine.” she says, even as Dirk begins to herd her towards the stairs.

“Beastshit,” says Karkat.

“You'll be even better when you wake up,” Sollux offers. And then, “Thleep well, Roxy.”

It's Tavros who calls the next Human Rights Initiative meeting; or, rather, Karkat calls it, at Tavros's request.

They meet at Karkat and Sollux's hive, as usual, and sit scattered in the recreation block, Porrim and Dirk at the center, sewing a small quilt with a blue atomic structure at its center. It's been three weeks since Rose's surgery and they've been quilting together almost nightly ever since. Jade is particularly interested in this one.

“You can have it, if you like,” Porrim tells her, once longing stares have evolved into fondly stroking hands.

Jade looks equal parts delighted and alarmed.

“Really?” she says.

“Certainly.” Porrim uses a small pair of scissors to clip the thread she'd been working with. “I have quite enough blankets. And since you're so taken with it – ”

She trails off and Jade launches herself at her, squealing, “That would be so cool!” and it's only Porrim's quick reflexes that save them from impalement on the scissors. “Oh my gog! I've never had my own quilt before!”

She draws away from Porrim to look behind her. “Nepeta! I can keep it in your cave, right?”

Nepeta beams.

“Of purrourse!” she says.

“Awesome!” She turns back to throw another hug at Porrim, this time lingering long enough for the troll to return it. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Thank Dirk,” Porrim says. “It's his design.”

Jade releases her and darts around to fling her arms around him.

“Thank you, Dirk!” she says and kisses his reddening cheek.

Dirk pats her arm.

“No problem, dude,” he says and Karkat thinks he's relieved when she retreats to Becquerel's side.

With this interlude over, Karkat casts a last look around to make sure Cronus Ampora has made it back from his load gaper pilgrimage then calls the meeting to order. There's a predictable huffing from Vriska but her heart doesn't seem to be in it and he gets things passed off to Tavros with little incident.

“I think we're all, um, aware of the recent medical problems with Rose,” he says. “For those who aren't, Kanaya has given me permission to, um, summarize what happened.”

Summarize he does, in clipped, stilted language, mouth twisting between words like he'd rather cry than talk about it.

“She is, on the mend,” he concludes. “The, um, surgery was a success and she's recovering. She's still not up to a lot of, um, moving around, is why she and Kanaya aren't here.”

“We could have guessed that, Tavsnore,” Vriska breaks in. Karkat figures they were lucky it took her this long. “Is there a point this this stuttery monologue or are you just trying to put us all to sleep? You can't steal my schtick, you know.”

“That is not, um, my intention, Vriska, and if you'll just bear with me for, another minute or so, I'll tell you my, um, point.”

Vriska looks about to comment again when John speaks up from her lap. He's wearing his blue windsock hat.

“Rose'll be okay?” he says.

“He just said that, John,” Vriska says. “Try listening for once.”

“Rose is going to be, just fine,” Tavros says, offering John a sweet smile. “Once she heals from the, um, surgery, you'll be able to play again. But what I was saying,” he continues, smile fading as he looks around. “Or meant to be saying, was this: that Rufioh and I have discussed the case, and we think that the priority, for this movement, in the short term at least, should be to find out more about human origins. Human medical care is very, um, difficult, now, because we know so little about humans and finding out where they – you – come from would be a very positive first, um, step, in more effective treatment. I know it's not exactly, legal rights, but access to effective medical care is critical to the well-being of every species.” He looks at Dirk, impassive on the floor in front of him. “Dirk, you are the leader, with Karkat. Do you, um, have any thoughts on the subject?”

Dirk gives a short nod.

“I agree with you,” he says. “Not just in terms of medical care, though it's an excellent point that hadn't occurred to me. We actually discussed this, briefly, back before the Great Debacle, and I'm of the opinion that finding out where we came from is a critical step towards liberation. We must have a history outside of being pets for trolls and I want to find out what it is.”

Jane, on the floor behind him, pipes up.

“It's also our right to know,” she says. “There are so many mysteries around where we came from and and how we ended up here and it's our right to have that mystery solved.”

“Thomeone mutht know,” Sollux says. “It'th jutht a matter of finding out who.”

“My guess would be whoever benefits financially from our existence,” Jane says. “That's usually how it goes with mysteries.”

“We're not investigating insurance fraud,” Dirk says. “But it sounds like a reasonable starting point. All in favor? Say 'aye'.”

Thus is the plan made.

Chapter Text

Equius isn't able to make it to the meeting but he drops by the next evening to get briefed. Dirk forewarns Karkat and Sollux, who barricade themselves in Karkat's block in a display of exaggerated distaste that would have been more convincing if Dirk hadn't actually met them before.

Equius still insists on shaking hands when they meet. His skin is always clammy with sweat, his grip always carefully light, and it's pretty much the most precious thing in the entire universe.

“Come on through to the nutrition block,” Dirk tells him, when they finish the ritualistic pleasantries that are part of the Equius experience. “I engineered another beverage cylinder. The last one lasted a full three minutes and I'm betting this one can take five.”

“While I appreciate the gesture,” Equius says, “this project is futile. I am simply too STRONG.” But he's following Dirk anyway. “No mere beverage cylinder can withstand my STRENGTH.”

“Not in combat, no,” Dirk agrees. “But that's not our goal, here. Our goal is to create something you can hold onto long enough to enjoy a whole glass of butlermilk. Between my reinforcements and your increased control, we're getting there.”

Equius frowns.

“Perhaps I should drink more quickly.”

“Tried that, remember? You tensed up. Sit.”

He gestures to the horizontal nutrition consumption surface and Equius sits, carefully, as Dirk fetches the beverage cylinder from a storage cube and fills it with cold butlermilk from the thermal hull.

“I've rigged up a pressure gauge,” he says. “It'll beep if your grip starts to get too tight. Should be enough warning to keep it in one piece.” He places the cylinder in front of Equius and sits down catty-corner to him. “Try it out.”

Equius eyes the cylinder and lifts it with careful fingers. It doesn't crumble and there's no beep. He takes a drink and sets it down again without incident. Dirk allows one corner of his mouth to twitch up.

“Impressive,” Equius says.

Dirk nods.

“Now lets see how it does when you're focused on something else. Such as me.”

Equius looks over at him, alarm in his face, and begin to stutter nonwords. Dirk lets his smile grow and waves him quiet.

“Relax, I'm not going to seduce you in the nutrition block.”

“S – Strider – Dirk – I don't think – ”

“The meeting, Zahhak,” he says. “I need to get you up to speed.”

Equius's verbal fumbling subsides and he reaches for the beverage cylinder. It beeps and he at once lets go. His face is shining with sweat.

“You okay?” Dirk asks.

“I need a moment.”

Dirk gives him his moment, occupying himself with identifying the individual muscles standing out in Equius's arms, under the new dampness of his shirt. It's a good thing for both of them Equius has never learned to see beyond the ocular shields.

After a couple of minutes have passed, Equius releases a breath and reaches for the cylinder again. There's no beep and he looks pleased.

“You good, now?” Dirk asks.

“Yes, thank you. About this meeting?”

Dirk gives Equius the lowdown on recent HRI developments, still idly eying flexing muscle groups when Equius bends his arm to drink. Equius is quiet, gazing at middle distance, and now and again the beverage cylinder beeps.

“Jane suggested we follow the money, so to speak,” Dirk concludes. “She and Sollux have been researching who benefits the most monetarily from the existence of humans on Beforus.”

“And what have you found?” Equius asks.

“There are a couple of companies that make money off human care supplies but the big one is CrockerCorp, no surprise there. They have their tendrils in everything.”

“Indeed,” Equius says and takes a meditative sip from his milk. “Have you researched who was the first to begin manufacturing human care supplies? If one corresponded closely with humans' first appearance on this planet – ”

“ – they might have something to do with it,” Dirk finishes. “I see. That's a good thought, Equius. I'll
have Jane look into it. Any other ideas?”

“Only that humans are most likely extraterrestrial in origin,” he says. “I have no idea how one would go about researching life on other worlds, but – ”

“Wait,” Dirk says. “You're saying – okay. I guess I can see that.”

Equius stares over him, eyebrows high.

“Where did you think humans came from? You certainly didn't evolve on Beforus.”

“No, I knew that. I guess I thought – I was assuming we were genetically engineered, to be honest.”

“I think that unlikely,” Equius says. “Our genetic engineering isn't yet advanced enough to create new species – new creatures, perhaps, but not an internally varying species. Certainly not one as complex as humans. And if one had the means to produced such a species, one would likely take pains to ensure that species was – docile.”

Dirk snorts.

“They wouldn't have made me, you mean,” he says.

Equius breaks into another sweat.

“I didn't mean to imply – I had no intention – ”

“Hey, man.” Dirk gives into the temptation to pat his arm, feel warm, damp skin over hard muscle. “It's cool, I know what you meant. You need a towel?”

“If it's not unduly inconvenient.”

Equius has one hand raised to his face and is probably leaving sweaty fingermarks on his ocular shields. Dirk gives his arm another lingering pat – more of a stroke, really – then goes to the prep surface in the corner, where he'd had the foresight to place several fresh towels before Equius's arrival.

“Here you go,” he says and passes it over.

“I'll get Sollux on the alien thing,” he says as Equius blots himself dry. “If there is a planet of humans out there, that shit'll be buried deep. And if there's a planet of humans we're stealing kids from – ” He stops and shakes his head. Equius pauses to look over at him. His ocular shields have been pushed up to his head and his eyes are turning blue from the bottom up.

“Yes,” he says. “It's a – difficult subject. And perhaps best left untouched.”

“No,” Dirk says. “I can't just leave this and you know it. If we happen to find out I was the victim of interplanetary human-napping as a baby, we'll deal with it then. When we have evidence. It's just speculation, now. But if there is evidence, we have to find it.”

“I'm not sure I agree,” Equius says. “But I doubt you care about that.”

Dirk looks over and is surprised by the rueful smile on Equius's face.

“Of course I care,” he says. “I just – have to do it, anyway.” The back of his neck is starting to heat up. He says, “I've got to care what you think. I know you science types, you'll never let me at your bulge otherwise.”

He has timed this remark to the moment Equius's fingers closed around the beverage cylinder. It shatters in the next instant and Dirk flashsteps for more towels.

The Ampora hive has, for several weeks, been devoid of music.

This should be a good thing. It's not the most musical of homes and for the most part music only plays a big part in their night-to-night routine when one or both of them is sulking. Eridan plays the baby grand piano, Cronus has his guitar and on the occasion they're both in a temper Troll Wagner and Troll Bright Eyes duel like poorly-trained ninjas in the halls.

That hasn't happened since Dave moved in. Eridan likes to think he wouldn't subject his baby to that kind of tantrum but age has brought self-awareness enough for him to think it's inevitable.

There's no music in the hive, now, and it's worse than a sulk-off would be. Cronus is now too depressed to bother showing it off.

He comes home from work the night after Tavros's meeting exhausted and visibly aching but doesn't say a word about it. He just strips off his boots in the entryway, as usual, and wanders over to the ablution block where he locks himself in. He doesn't so much as glance at Eridan, on the rec block multiseat unit, or Dave, coloring on the floor. Water begins to run behind the closed door – the bath, not the shower. Eridan grimaces.

“You're making a face,” Dave says, not looking up from his drawing. It doesn't look like much from Eridan's angle but there's a lot of red and orange.

“Sorry, kid,” he says. “I was just thinkin' about stuff.”

“What stuff?” Dave says. “Don't make faces.”

“I'll try an' avoid it,” he promises. He has no idea how to explain the significance of the bathwater still running in the next room.

“What stuff?” Dave says again. He's looking at Eridan, now, small face half-obscured by dark ocular shields.

“Just Cronus,” Eridan decides. “He ain't real happy just at the moment.”

“I know,” Dave says, surprising Eridan a little. “But he'll be okay. Dirk said.”

“When did Dirk say that?”

“Last night. I called him on my palmhusk. He showed me how.”

Eridan had kind of forgotten about the child's palmhusk Cronus bought when they first adopted Dave. He supposes he's glad it's not just gathering dust somewhere.

“Did Dirk say anything else?” he asks.

“We have to be nice to Cronus,” Dave says. “And I should be good and listen when he tells me to do things. Which is dumb. I'm always good.”

Eridan chooses not to argue, since it's mostly true. Dave's major behavioral issues stem from what he says, not what he does.

“You need to be nice, too,” Dave adds.

“Did Dirk tell you that too?”

“No. But it won't work if only one of us is nice. We both have to.”

Dave is giving him an expectant stare and Eridan sighs.

“Yeah,” he says. “You're right. I'll be nice to him.”

“Cool,” Dave says and goes back to his drawing.

Later, when Dave is safely tucked into his respite platform and Eridan has changed into his pajamas – the cotton ones, rather than his preferred satin – he fetches a particular bottle from the ablution block and goes to knock at Cronus's entry portal. There's no answer the first time but he persists until a disgruntled voice rattles out, “What?”

“It's your hatchmate, Cro. You might open up.”

“Of course it's my fuckin' hatchmate,” Cronus says, but opens the portal. “Who the fuck else would it be?”

He's in what passes for his own pajamas – loose shorts and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off – barefoot and heavy-eyed, hair flopping down around his eyes. Eridan's hair has more of a natural part so while, unstyled, it looks dorky as fuck, at least he can see.

“We ain't the only ones in the hive anymore,” Eridan reminds him.

“It's past Davey's bedtime,” Cronus says. “D'you need somethin', Eri?”

Eridan holds up the bottle of oil in his hand.

“Thought I'd see if you wanted a back massage.”

Cronus stares at the bottle and then at him for long enough Eridan thinks it's an overstatement. It's not like they've never done this before.

“It ain't my wriggling day,” Cronus says. “And it ain't a holiday, is it?”

“Fuck you, I can see your back's sore,” Eridan says, “an' lookin' at you is makin' mine hurt. You want a massage or not?”

Cronus hesitates – he actually hesitates – and that hurts Eridan's bloodpusher for reasons he can't even explain to himself.

“Eh,” Cronus says at last. “Why not? If you're that eager to get your hands all over me.” He waggles his eyebrows but there's not much conviction in it.

“Save it for somebody who's never had to wash your socks,” Eridan advises and gives Cronus a gentle shove back into the block.

They get situated on the respite block floor, Cronus's bare belly to the plush fluffbeast rug, Eridan kneeling over him.

“You comfortable?” he asks.

“Blissful,” Cronus drawls. “G'wan.”

Eridan slicks his hands with oil and begins to stroke over his back – softly, at first, giving Cronus time to adjust to the feeling of someone else's hands on his skin (for all they try, it's not a sensation either of them are accustomed to) then more firmly, focusing first on the base of his neck and the top of his spine, where he knows Cronus carries all his tension.

“So, tell me somethin',” he says, when some time has passed and the air is thick with the smell of lavender.

“Mm,” says Cronus. “Like what?”

“I dunno,” Eridan says. “Somethin'. Just talk, cause' if you don't you'll fall asleep and I ain't haulin' your ass to the cocoon.”

“You're such an asshole, Eridan, even when you're nice you're a asshole.”

“I'm always nice,” Eridan shoots back, then raps the back of Cronus's head lightly with his knuckles. “Talk, shithead.”

Cronus sighs, then sighs again when Eridan begins to move further down his back.

“You're real good at this,” he says.

Eridan smirks.

“I know that one already. Try again.”

“Brat.”

Cronus is quiet, for a moment, obviously thinking, and Eridan keeps massaging as he waits, staying carefully clear of the fragile gills on either side.

“A'ight, here's somethin',” Cronus says at last. “At work, tonight.”

There's a pause for effect and Eridan readies himself to hear that Cronus has been written up, again.

“I got promoted.”

And then, a yelp, as Eridan's loses track of his claws.

“Fuckin' hell, Eri!”

“Fuck, sorry already,” Eridan says. “Say that again. You got what, now?”

“Promoted.” Cronus sniffs.

“Promoted to what?”

“To a squad leader. It ain't a big deal or nothin', I'm still doin' the same job. Only now I gotta do more paperwork.”

“Like hell it ain't a big deal. Cronus, that's fantastic.”

“Heh. You wanna congratulate me, keep rubbin'.”

Eridan realizes that his hands have, in fact, stopped moving and begins again.

“Seriously,” he says. “That's great, Cro. What's a squad leader do?”

“Eh, same shit, like I said. Only when one a the others can't deal, I get called to take over and I got to file a squad report as well as my own every night. Oh, and I assign my squad routes in the zone at the start a shift. They're premade routes but I decide which troll takes 'em.”

“How many in your squad?”

“Dunno, yet. Six or seven, maybe, plus me. I gotta go in for special training, next week, which, shit, it's durin' your work hours. Somebody'll have to watch the kid.”

“Kar'll do it,” Eridan says. “Now stop tensing up, you wanna undo all my hard work?”

“If I do, will you do it all again?”

“Nah, I'll just leave you here in pain. Asshead.”

Cronus huffs a little but relaxes under Eridan's hands, again. And, despite his earlier whine, Eridan keeps up the massage until Cronus is very nearly asleep, then helps him to the recuperacoon.

When Cronus is dealt with and his hands are washed, Eridan checks on Dave – soundly sleeping – then goes to his own block and wakes up his husktop.

He hopes Karkat is on line.

Chapter Text

Eridan leaves work early on the second and last day of Cronus's training, swings by the supply depot and hustles back to the hive. Karkat is there, of course, but so are Dirk and Roxy, sitting on the rec block floor with Dave. They're drawing, of course – seems like Dave never does anything else – while Karkat sits on the multiseat unit, watching with something damn close to a smile on his face. It's a sweet expression that melts into his usual scowl as soon as he sees Eridan. Eridan tries not to take it personally and mostly succeeds.

“About fucking time,” Karkat says. And then, “What the fuck is that?”

“Eridan!” Dave says, before he can respond. “Hi. Karkat, say hi first.”

“Hi,” Karkat says. “What is that?”

“Hello to you, too,” Eridan says and goes to place his acquisition on the nutrition consumption surface past the rec area seating units. It's mostly used for folding laundry but Eridan had cleared it before he left for work, and retrieved its seats from the various blocks they'd been dragged off to over the perigees since it was last used.

“Hi, Eridan,” says Roxy as he passes.

“Yo,” adds Dirk and when Eridan turns back he can see Dave nodding.

He has the best human.

“Hey, Roxy, Dirk. Dave. You gettin' along okay?”

“We're cool,” says Dave.

“Very cool,” Dirk agrees.

“The coolest,” says Roxy. “How are you?”

“I'm good. Stressed the hell out but good. Nice to see you all.”

Dirk and Roxy, under Dave's stern gaze, chorus back, “You, too.”

“Yes,” Karkat says. “We're all just fucking fine and dandy and totally fuck all thrilled to be in the corporeal vicinity as one another. It's amazing and delightful and the greatest thing that's ever happened to any of us. Can you not see how delighted we are? Shall we have another go around of this obstacle course of pointless pleasantries or has this been sufficient?”

He's talking to Dave, who doesn't even dignify this with a look up.

“Well?” Karkat persists. “Are we finished, Strider? Has etiquette been satisfied?”

Dave doesn't stop coloring.

“We're cool,” he says.

Karkat buries his face in his hands and lets out a choked wail. The humans take no notice and it's to Eridan he looks when he tears his hands away and glares.

“You're late, turdfucker,” he says. “And also – for the third time – what the fuck kind of monstrosity have you brought into this hive?”

He's pointing – rather dramatically, it must be said – to the object on the consumption surface. The distinctively shaped, if oddly colored, object on the consumption surface.

“Looks like a cake,” Dirk says, before Eridan can answer.

“Thanks Strider,” Eridan says. “Just so happens it is a cake. Can't be a party if there's no cake.”

“It's hideous,” Karkat tells him.

Eridan sniffs and looks over at it.

“Purple's the color a the aristocracy,” he says. “Show a little respect.”

“What's red the color of?” Karkat persists.

It's Dave that answers him.

“Awesome.”

Eridan smiles.

“What he said. Red's the color a awesome.” He goes to sit beside Karkat on the multiseat unit. “And also the color ya end up with when you ask Davey to pick out your icin'.”

The corner of Karkat's mouth twitches.

“It really is fucking appalling,” he says.

Eridan shrugs.

“Cro'll like it.”

The door opens again a half hour later, when Dave is sitting in Eridan's lap and they're all listening to Dirk rap with Roxy providing beatbox accompaniment. She breaks off with a little squeal when the rattle of keys becomes audible and bolts for the entryway. Dirk gives a brief bow and follows. Karkat stays where he is and Eridan, held down by the baby in his lap, remains beside him.

“Thanks for coming,” he says in an undertone. “I know he ain't your favorite person an' all.”

“Shut he fuck up, Ampora,” says Karkat and they hear the door open.

“Cronus!” Roxy's voice says and a muffled 'oof' suggests she's thrown a hug at him. “Welcome home!”

“Don't break his ribs, Roxy,” Dirk says.

Cronus is sputtering.

“R-Roxy? Dirk? The fuck're – what're you doin' here?”

In Eridan's lap, Dave mumbles, “Rude.”

Eridan murmurs, “He's a little off-balance. Give him a break.”

Roxy is saying, “Celebrating, of course!”

“Celebratin' what – ? Hey!”

They appear around the corner, Roxy dragging Cronus by the arm, Dirk trailing behind.

“We heard someone here got a promotion at work,” he's saying. “Can't let that pass without some kind of recognition.”

Cronus looks around at Dirk and Roxy, then at Eridan, Dave and Karkat on the couch, and then at the the cake, three gaudy red and purple tiers stacked on the consumption surface. He doesn't say anything for a moment.

Then Dave says, “Manners,” and he laughs.

“Sorry, kiddo,” he says. “I was a little beyond talkin' for a second there. Thanks, Dirk, Roxy, good to see you. Hi, Karkat.”

“Hi,” Karkat says. “About fucking time you got here.”

“Shove it, Kar,” Eridan says and rises to his feet with Dave in his arms. “He's right on time an' you know it.”

He moves over to Cronus and passes Dave to him. Cronus takes the child and holds him close, staring at Eridan with wide, violet eyes. Eyes just like Eridan's will be, in another sweep or so, and full of something larger than thanks.

“I know you said it was no big thing,” Eridan tells him. “But it seems to me like it was worth celebratin'. Hope you don't mind.”

Cronus's throat moves in a heavy swallow.

“Nah,” he says. “I don't mind. Thanks, Eri.”

His hold on Dave tightens and Dave slips his arms around his neck in a hug.

“Congrat'latshuns,” he says and Eridan sees a gloss of tears rise in those violet eyes.

“Thanks, kid,” Cronus says.

Eridan smiles.

“How about some cake, now?” he suggests. “Dave picked out the icin' for you.”

Cronus casts another glance at the cake and, when he looks back, his eyes are clear.

“Yeah,” he says. “I never would've guessed. Thanks for that, too, Davey.”

“You're welcome,” says Dave. “We can eat, now?”

Cronus laughs, again, and it sounds weak.

“Sure, kid. We can eat, now. Who's cuttin'?”

“Dirk,” Dave says, before Eridan can announce his own intention. “Dirk can cut.”

They all look at Dirk, who gives a sage nod.

“That can be arranged,” he says. “I'll just need something to cut with. Eridan, hook me up.”

Eridan, with no other options, turns and leads him to the nutrition prep block.

“Need platters, too,” he mutters, on the way. “An' utensils.”

“I think we can handle all that between us,” Dirk says.

Eridan goes to the storage cube where the utensils are stored and, on locating a suitable knife, turns to find Dirk right next to him.

“The fuck, Strider,” he says. “You not know the meanin' of personal space of somethin'?”

“Just wanted to ask,” Dirk says, gently prying the knife out of Eridan's hand. “How fucked up is he?”

“What, Cronus?” Eridan looks back to the storage cube and begins counting out forks. “Who says he's fucked up?”

“Ampora,” Dirk says. “Don't bullshit me. I know from fucked up and he is fucked up. I just wanna know how bad.”

“An' if he is fucked up, not that I'm admittin' to any such fuckin' thing, how's it any a your business?”

“It's not,” Dirk replies and Eridan casts him a confused glance. “But he's my brother's lusus. That makes him – ” He pauses, searching for the word. “Important, I guess. And I'd like to know.”

Eridan considers this, passes Dirk the bouquet of forks, and considers it further as he moves to the storage cube containing nutrition platters.

“I dunno if it's all this Kankri shit or what,” he decides. “But he's pretty – he's fucked up.”

He turns to find Dirk nodding, again.

“Yeah,” Dirk says. “That's what I thought. Tell me if there's anything we can do for him.”

“You might wanna tell him that yourself,” Eridan says. “I ain't his keeper or his moirail.”

There might be something like skepticism amidst all the blankness of Dirk's expression but Eridan doesn't know him well enough to be sure. All he says is, “I'll do that,” before he turns and leads the way out of the nutrition block.

The cake is no less hideous, once cut, but it is pretty fucking delicious. Even Karkat will admit that. It's light and chocolatey, not over-whelmingly sweet, and the candy red icing is based in creamy strategically expired butlermilk. Not bad at all.

Dave has to be coaxed to eat with a tined consumption utensil – his instinct, when presented with a slice of cake, is to wrap his hands around it and force as much of it into his mouth as he can manage in one go. It's both disgusting and adorable and Karkat is fascinated, as always, by the sight of Eridan Ampora in lusus mode.

“Hey, now,” he says, lurching over to wrest the cake from Dave's fingers. “Come on, ain't I taught you better manners than that?” There is cake and icing all over Dave's face and fingers and Eridan grabs a linen napkin from the table to wipe him off.

“M' polite,” Dave says, voice mild, and sits still as he's aggressively cleaned.

“Eatin' with your hands ain't polite,” Eridan tells him. “Use your fork, Dave, I know you know how to use a fork.”

“Why?” Dave asks. He presents his other hand when Eridan points. It's not as grimy as its twin. “We don't use forks for cupcakes.”

“Cupcakes are a finger food,” Eridan explains. “They got those paper wrappers to keep your hands clean, remember? Regular cake ain't like that, you just make a mess with it. Like you just did.”

Dave is staring at him.

“Brownies,” he says.

“Brownies are made different,” Eridan says. “They don't mess a mess either. Neither do cookies, cause I know that's what you're thinkin'. When's the last time a brownie or a cookie got all over you like that?”

Dave appears to consider this, then shrugs.

“That's what I thought.” Eridan places a fork in his hand. “Use that.”

Dave gives him a skeptical look but uses the fork.

Eridan remains hovering, supervising the first couple of bites, before returning to his seat beside Cronus.

“You've never had cake before,” Dirk observes, eyes on Dave. He looks grim and there's never been less inflection in his voice.

“No,” Dave agrees, laser focused on his treat. “It's good, though.”

Roxy nudges Karkat with her foot. Karkat takes the hint and kicks Dirk under the table, gently. Dirk kicks him back, harder, but something in his shoulders is forcibly relaxed. Eridan is watching them.

“Course' it is,” he says. “You and I picked it out, kid, how could it be bad?”

Dave makes a little 'mm' noise but doesn't comment. He has more important matters to attend to.

Cronus speaks up.

“Well, Eri, you coulda fucked it up. I trust the kid with my confectionery but you, not so much. You're the type would poison the whole party with real gold decoration.”

“I did that once,” Eridan blurts out, then glares around. Roxy is giggling. “Nobody got sick,” he says. “He's lyin' for affect.”

“Well,” Dirk says. “He certainly achieved it. Dave is in charge of the party-planning for this hive, from now on.”

Cronus protests his own competence but Karkat only hears Eridan's grumble.

“Like he ain't already in charge a everythin' else?”

It's getting late by the time they leave; dawn is on its way. Karkat excuses himself to the load gaper as they're getting ready to go and when he comes back, Dirk has vanished.

“Where the fuck?” he asks Roxy, because Eridan is busy explaining the concept of moderation to a cake-desirous Dave.

“He's talking to Crobutt,” Roxy says, apparently unconcerned by this turn of events. “He said we could go on and he'd catch up.”

“Fuck that,” Karkat says. “We're waiting.”

“Want more,” Dave is saying, when he looks over. Eridan is in the process of sliding the remaining cake – there's a lot of it, three tiers was maybe a bit much – on top of the thermal hull, safely out of Dave's reach.

“Well, ya can't have more,” Eridan says. “You're stomach'll hurt it you eat any more of it.”

“No, it won't.”

“Yeah, it will.”

“Won't.”

The conversation is about to devolve into something ridiculous. Roxy steps closer and says, “Dave, it totally will. My stomach always hurts when I eat too much. And, hey, if you eat less now, you'll be less full later and you can eat more. I bet you can eat the whole thing yourself.”

Dave actually appears to consider this nonsense.

“Not helping,” Karkat says.

“No,” Dave decides. “I don't want all the cake. Just a piece. Just one more piece, Eridan?”

He's looking up like he'd be doing the wibbly eye thing without the shields in place and Eridan, Karkat is horrified to discover, seems to be buckling. He breaks in.

“No,” he says. “Dave, you can't have one more piece. What you can do is find your brother for me. He's talking with Cronus but I need him here.”

He doubts explaining they need to leave will inspire obedience.

Dave seems torn between his brother and the cake but Eridan's resolve is no longer faltering so Dirk's allure wins out and he trots off towards the respite blocks.

Eridan watches him go then looks back at Karkat and Roxy.

“Thanks,” he says. “This whole lususing gig is somethin' else. I dunno how you did it, Kar, especially with two.”

Karkat rolls his eyes.

“I did have some help,” he says. “And they were older than Dave is.”

“Not by much,” Roxy says. “I was younger than Dave when Sollux found me.”

“I didn't live with you, then. I just got to hear about your more obnoxious out-bursts secondhand.”

“Aw, did Sollux tell you stories about me? Were they heart-warming? I bet they were heart-warming.”

“Heart – fuck, are you a highblood, now? No, they were not 'heart'-warming, they were nauseating. You ate things. Nonfood things. Regularly. On a nightly basis. I don't know how you survived grubhood.”

Roxy laughs. “I was adorable,” she says. “And so is Dave. You're doing a great job, Eridan.”

Eridan's earfins actually flutter.

“Well, it ain't all me, a course,” he says. “Cronus is less than totally useless. But I like to think I'm makin' an okay job of it.”

At that moment, Dave reappears, tugging Dirk by the hand. Cronus is not in evidence.

“Found him,” he says. “They were in the lawnring. Cronus said say goodbye. Are you leaving?”

They come to a stop between Karkat and Eridan and this question is directed to Dirk. Dirk drops to a knee in front of Dave and says, “Fraid' so, little dude. We got shit to do back at our place. But we'll see you again, soon, yeah?”

He holds out a first, which Dave bumps without prompting.

“Stay awesome,” Dirk says, then offers up a hug. Dave throws himself into it.

It's kind of stupidly touching.

“So what was that?” Roxy asks as they walk from the Ampora hive. She nudges Dirk with her elbow.

“What was what?” He elbows her back and she feigns a stumble into Karkat, who steadies her then wishes he'd let her fall.

“You know,” Roxy says. “Your little confab with Cronus. What was that? Is Equius not high enough on the hemospectrum for you?”

“Don't even joke about that,” Karkat orders.

She flails a smack at his shoulder. It connects, hard, and he grunts.

“Fuck you, too,” he says.

“We should tell Meenah and Feferi to watch out!” she says and laughs.

“I don't think that's necessary,” Dirk says. “And, no. I am not courting Cronus Ampora. Or any Ampora.”

“You better not be, jegus fuck.”

“I was simply offering our support, since he seems to be going through a difficult time.”

Karkat stops walking to stare then has to bound forward a few steps to catch up.

“Aw,” Roxy is saying. “That's so sweet. Isn't that sweet, Karkat?”

“What?” Karkat is aware that he's gaping. “I – what? You did what, now?”

Dirk spares him a single glance then looks ahead again. The tips of his ears are tinged pink.

“I offered our support. Surely it hasn't escaped your notice that the stress of his new responsibilities, to say nothing of the Kankri issue, have taken a toll on him.”

“No,” Karkat says, “it hadn't. What has escaped my notice is why you care. Since when are Ampora emotional theatrics your concern?”

Roxy laughs again. “Oh, come on, Crabkat, loosen up. Who here's been drying Eributt's pretty purple tears since they were six sweeps old? Cause' it sure wasn't me or Di-Stri.”

“That is completely different,” Karkat says. “Eridan's my friend, ridiculous drama whore that he is. Since when are we best buddies with Cronus?”

“Since he picked Dave up,” Dirk says. “He's raising my little brother. I can't not care about him.”

Karkat grumbles but can't quite bring himself to argue that point. He says, “Well, fuck, fine. Just so long as you're not waxing pale for him I guess I can deal with opening the hive for further nautically themed theatrical displays.”

Roxy squeals.

“Oh my gog, that hadn't even occurred to me! Are you, Dirk? Are you pale for him? That would be so cute!”

Dirk huffs in a way that means he's laughing.

“Oh, no,” he says. “I've got my diamond set on someone else.”

And with this enigmatic pronunciation, the conversation is steered neatly away from the Amporas.

Chapter Text

Sweeps in the past (but not many):

The messages started that night. Karkat's palmhusk rang and went to voicemail then rang again five minutes later – the maximum length of a message. He hadn't known there was a maximum message length.

“Woohoo,” said Dirk. “We're learning stuff.”

After Karkat shut off the palmhusk, the e-mails started. They took longer but not by much. He was unwillingly impressed by Kankri's speed of composition.

“Imprethive,” Sollux said, leaning over his shoulder on the rec block multiseat unit. “No thpelling errorth. And hith quirk ith perfectly conthithtent.”

Karkat said, “Don't you have unpacking to do?”

He'd already told Kanaya not to tell Porrim the new address, lest she let it slip to Kankri, so Kankri couldn't actually find them unless he took to wandering Old Trollville on foot. Karkat worried about it anyway but Dirk didn't.

“He doesn't want me back that bad.”

“How the fuck do you know?” Karkat asked.

“Because he never really wanted me to begin with.”

There was something in the set of his shoulders that made Karkat want to cry; instead, he ordered Dirk to take the smuppets to his own damn block, they would not be cluttering up the common areas, no, not even ironically, do you even know what that word means?

“He might call the cops,” Karkat said to Sollux on the second night. “Legally we're the ones in the wrong here.”

“He won't,” said Sollux and tightened his arm around Karkat's shoulders.

“He might.”

“He won't. He'll grandthtand for a while then fuck off.”

Karkat leaned into him.

“I wish I had your certainty.”

“Well, you've got me. That'th clothe enough.”

Karkat bit back a laugh and swatted his leg. “Fuck you,” he said. “I'm swooning.”

“Thwoon harder. And thtop thinking about Kankri. I'm trying to theduthe you into the pile, here.”

Kankri did find out their address, eventually, but it took a while. Karkat suspected Mituna, or maybe Kurloz.

He showed up in their second week in the new hive, just after they'd finished redecorating, and stood ringing the doorgrub for maybe half an hour before shoving another treatise under the portal and retreating.

The first traditional letter came the next day. Also that day came Kanaya.

“If I weren't so attached to you,” she told them in the nutrition block, after being squired around for a look at the new paint and improvements, “I would be very upset with you. Kankri has been at our hive incessantly.”

“Fuck,” Karkat said. “I mean, we expected that, but still. Sorry, Kanaya.”

“He's very unhappy with you all.”

“I imagine so,” Dirk said. “I mean, these two did abscond with his devoted human companion.”

“Hith what now?” Sollux said as he took a seat on the fourth side of the consumption surface. “When did he get one of thothe?”

Dirk flipped him off. Sollux snickered.

Kanaya said, “I really doubt Dirk's level of devotion enters into his ire.”

“Of course it doesn't,” said Karkat. “What enters into it is his pride. Which we – and I'm including you in this, shitstain – have injured. Having a rescue human was a status symbol for him and we've taken that away. He doesn't give a shit about you or your emotional or mental well-being.”

“I had noticed that, yeah.”

“As had I,” Kanaya said.

“Tho we're all in agreement,” said Sollux. “Kankri ith a douche. Shall we put out a prethth releathe?”

“In other news,” Dirk suggested, “the sun is not cold.”

“Let's just change the subject,” Karkat said. “Unless you feel a deep-seated need to complain. In which case the floor is yours. It's our fault you're infested.”

He addresses this to Kanaya, who shakes her head with an expression of distaste.

“No thank you. I would rather think about other things. Any other things.”

“Sweet,” said Karkat. “All in favor of talking about things other than Kankri?”

Another vote is unanimous.

The Present:

It may make him the world's shittiest human-sitter but Karkat has no idea how John got up that tree. He looked away for a minute – maybe two – and looked back to find the kid no longer scrabbling at the trunk but neatly seated in the joint of the two largest branches, beaming like fucking lunatic, like his life isn't now in jeopardy. How the fuck did he even get up there?

Dirk might know, but he's not talking; he's just standing there, hip cocked, face impassive.

Too impassive.

Karkat's eyes narrow.

“The fuck,” he says.

Dirk raises one eyebrow.

“The fuck,” Karkat repeats, then says it again. “The fuck, Dirk.”

Dirk's expression doesn't change.

“And which fuck would that be?” he asks.

Karkat lets out a skree of irritation and elaborates.

“The fuck,” he says, “did you do, shitbrain? Did you just not notice the baby in the tree or did you put him there for fucked up Dirk reasons of your own?”

“Who?” Dirk asks. “John? Little dude looks pretty happy.”

“Little dude looks pan-damaged,” Karkat says. “Which he is, or will be, just as soon as he falls out of the tree that you put him in. Because you are insane. Oh, what the fuck is he doing now?”

John has made it to his feet and is squirming against a branch, trying to climb.

“Seems like he wants to go higher,” Dirk observes.

“Fuck that,” says Karkat. “He will not go higher, higher equals death, or were you not paying attention to the part where falling from a great height is a bad fucking idea?”

“Nah,” Dirk says. “I think he's good.”

“He's not good.” Karkat jabs a finger towards the tree. “Get him down.”

Dirk looks over at him.

“What?”

Karkat continues pointing.

“Get him down. Go. March. Go and get that baby out of the tree.”

“Do it yourself. You're the one spazzing over it.”

“I am not spazzing. I am justifiably concerned for the welfare of the wiggler that has been left in our dubious care. I am also pretty sure it's somehow your fault he's up there, so it's only right that you be the one to risk life and limb getting him down, so go. Now.”

“You're fucking ridiculous,” Dirk says.

“I'm a fucking lusus is what I am. Go rescue that baby before he falls and dies messily on our lawn square.”

Dirk makes a show of straightening up and stretching, then flashsteps to the tree. Karkat can't actually follow the movements he makes after that but it's seconds between the final order and the moment he's presented with a startled John, held like a gift between Dirk's hands.

“Was that so hard?” he grumbles and takes John into his arms. “That is not how you hold a child, fuckface.”

“I flew,” John says. “Karkat, I flew, did you see me?”

“I saw,” Karkat says. “I saw and it almost gave me a gogdamn bloodpusher attack. Congratulations, John, on your induction into the Help Induce Fatal A Myocardial Infarction In Karkat Vantas Club. Dirk is the President.”

“I flew,” John says. “Pshoooooooo.”

“Pshooo,” Karkat agrees and hugs him tighter before placing him back on his feet. “No more flying,” he says and he's looking at Dirk.

“Aw.”

“KK! KK!”

Sollux, calling from the door, distracts Karkat from the brewing argument. He looks half-dazed, half-frantic and in full need of a pap or several.

“Watch him,” Karkat tells Dirk.

John says, “I wanna fly!”

Karkat, already jogging across the law square, is too far away to hear Dirk's response.

“KK!”

“I can hear you, Sollux, you pan-addled shitstain on the tattered undergarments of trolldom.” He comes to a stop in front of his moirail, one step lower on the stoop, and looks up at him. “What?”

“KK.” Sollux grasps at his shoulders like he needs an anchor to stop him floating away. Karkat catches his wrists and holds on. “I did it,” Sollux says. “I found it. Karkat, I found it.”

Karkat feels himself go still, finds the bones of Sollux's thin wrist grinding in his grip.

“You found it?” he says.

Sollux nods eagerly.

“I found it,” he repeats. “Latht night, I – there wath thith databathe and – the encryption – I couldn't quite – but then, thith evening – I wath thinking about it all day, KK, I thwear I wath working on it and tonight I did it! I broke in! And it'th there! It'th all there! I haven't had time to look through it all yet but I backed it up and we've got it. We've got it, KK, we found it!”

“What's all this 'we' shit?” Karkat grumbles, and steps up to pin Sollux gently against entry portal frame. “You found it, shitbrain.”

“Yeah,” Sollux agrees. He's kind of clinging and kind of leaning, despite the perfectly serviceable wall behind him. Karkat is in danger of becoming a weight bearing column in the Captor architecture.

“I did it,” Sollux says again, holds tight another moment, then squirms as if to get away. “I jutht wanted to tell you,” he says, “before I dive into thith shit. There'th a lot of it and I need to – ”

Karkat puts a hand over Sollux's mouth and presses him back into the portal frame.

“Shoosh,” he says, and barely recognizes his own voice for all the tenderness packed within. “Shoosh, you beautiful, brilliant fuck-up. Shoosh.”

Sollux makes an inquisitive sound.

“What you need to do,” Karkat says, “is sleep. Right now. Cocoon. Don't make me carry you.”

Sollux bats at him with one less-than-coordinated hand.

“Oh, come on, KK, I really need to – ”

“Sleep.” Karkat catches his fluttering hand and weaves their fingers together, then bonks his forehead against Sollux's. “You need to sleep, Sollux. You said you backed everything up?”

“Twithe.”

“Of course. Then it's fine. You can pull whatever organizational jujitsu you want on it – after you sleep.”

“KK. . .” It's a whine, but a weak one and Sollux is weak against him, leaning again.

Karkat slips his free arm around him and says, “Shoosh.”

Sollux doesn't reply but he stays, for a short while, resting against Karkat, breath deepening and evening out from its excited wheeze. When he's in danger of falling asleep on his feet, Karkat gently disentangles their bodies and gives him a gentle push back inside.

“Go,” he says. “Cocoon. I will check on you.”

Sollux grumbles but nothing coherent comes out. He goes, a subtle sway in his steps, and Karkat watches until he's out of sight.

Someone is clapping.

Karkat whirls on the spot, cheeks burning, and fixes Dirk with the filthiest glare he can muster.

“What?” he snaps.

Dirk stops clapping and folds his arms across his chest. On scanning behind him, Karkat finds John fully occupied with catching breeze in his dumbfuck hat. The material should really be too heavy for that but the kid isn't in a tree or otherwise on the verge of damaging himself so Karkat's going to give flagrant violations of the laws of physics a pass.

“Just showing my appreciation,” Dirk says. “I think it's sweet that my guardians are still pale for each other, after all these sweeps. Makes a guy believe in romance.”

“Fuck you, too,” Karkat says and descends the stoop. “Why were you even watching us, you have a baby to look after.”

“He's fine. At ground level and everything.”

“No thanks to you, you creepy voyeur.”

“Hey, I was just standing here. You're the one who started macking all over Sollux where I could see you. It's not like I could leave, I've got a baby to look after.”

They're standing side-by-side, now, watching John fill his hat with the wind.

“You should really be more careful,” Dirk continues. “Doing that shit in front of little kids. Hardcore shoosh-papping like that rates at least a six-sweep warning from the troll AMA.”

“Don't talk to me about the troll AMA,” Karkat says. “Don't ever talk to me about the troll AMA. The troll AMA is dead to me and so are all their dumbshit regulations. And in what universe was that hardcore? We still had our foot enveloping garments on.”

There's a pause. When Karkat glances over, a furrow has developed behind the nose piece of Dirk's ocular shields.

“I'm not thinking about you guys playing footsie,” Dirk says. “I'm not.”

“Good,” he says, and then asks, “Did you hear what he was saying?”

Dirk shakes his head. The furrow is still there.

“You're gonna like this,” Karkat says. “He found out where you came from.”

The furrow is gone, abrupt as a flashstep, and Dirk's eyebrows go up.

“Really?” he says.

Karkat reaches out to snag the back of his hoodie.

“Really.”

The attempted flashstep ends with Dirk on the ground, hoodie rucked up and tangled in Karkat's claws.

“You fucker,” he says, without expression.

“Yeah, I know.” Karkat offers him a hand up.

“We letting him sleep?” Dirk asks.

“We're letting him sleep. We've waited this long to find out, we can wait a little longer.”

“Meeting?”

“Meeting. You watch John, I'll send out the call.”

“Cool.”

Dirk offers up his fist and Karkat bumps it before he heads back inside.

Chapter Text

Sweeps in the past (but not many):

Sollux screened Kankri's e-mails. They didn't expect them to say anything interesting but Karkat was twitchy and anxious and keeping an eye on the opposition settled his stomach. About two weeks after he first showed up at the hive – three weeks after the Great Escape – an atypically brief message came through. When Sollux told him about it, Karkat said, “Shit.”

And then, “Show me.”

Sollux showed him.

It read:

Karkat:
L9ath th9ugh I am to inv9lve 9utsiders in what seems t9 me t9 6e a simple hatchmate dispute, I have c9me t9 the c9nclusi9n that y9u have n9 intenti9n 9f listening t9 reas9n in this matter and, as what y9u have d9ne is clearly criminal, I feel it is time t9 include the pr9per auth9rities. It gives me n9 pleasure t9 bother the p9lice in simple matter 9f a y9ung tr9ll acting 9ut against a lusus-figure

A WHAT?

kk calm the fuck down

6ut y9u have left me with n9 9ther rec9urce. Dirk is my human and 6el9ngs under my pr9tecti9n. I cann9t in g99d c9nscience suggest y9u pr9cure a human 9f y9ur 9wn as this epis9de has c9nvinced me y9u still have a great deal 9f pers9nal maturation t9 d9 bef9re y9u can 6e trusted with that s9rt of resp9nsibility. I certainly can't trust y9u with the well-6eing of mine.

I will give y9u 9ne last chance to 6e sensi6le and end this a6surdity. I will arrive at y9ur hive (again) in the evening and I expect Dirk t9 6e returned t9 me, with all of his bel9ngings. If he is n9t, the auth9rities shall 6e n9tified. If he has 6een in any way maltreated during his time with y9u and y9u fear repurcussi9ns, I can 9nly stress that it is in that case all the m9re imp9rtant y9u return him t9 my care at 9nce.

-K. Vantas

Karkat only became aware that he was skreeing when the paps to his face became more akin to slaps and he came back planetside to find Roxy and Dirk in the room.

Four people did not really fit around a computer monitor and Roxy was kind of climbing on Dirk's head to get a look at the screen, so Karkat shoved back, away from the wretched red text, and spun out of Sollux's work surface seat, into Sollux's arms. That seemed like a pretty reasonable place to end up, all things considered, so he stayed, hissing and grumbling, clinging to Sollux's t-shirt, while slender hands ran tracks along his back.

“Shoosh,” Sollux said. “Shoosh, KK, jegus shit, shoosh.”

“Not taking him,” Karkat muttered into his neck. “Not letting him take him, not happening, I am not sending him back to that, Sollux, I'm not.”

“Shoosh,” said Sollux again. “Of courthe you're not.”

“Like I'd fucking let you,” Dirk added.

“Yeah,” said Roxy. “Soooo not happening.”

“But I don't see – But – I stole you,” Karkat burst out. “You're legally Kankri's and I just took you. How the fuck are we supposed to fight this?”

“We stop freaking out, for one thing,” Dirk said.

Sollux hugged Karkat tighter and ruffled his hair.

“Think he'th talking to you, KK.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too.”

He ruffled his hair again and Karkat growled but felt a little better – calmer. Calm enough to release his death grip on his moirail and stand beside him, facing the humans in the dim light of the computer screen.

Why didn't Sollux ever have any fucking lights on in here?

He marched over to flip on the overhead as Dirk started talking.

“What we need to keep in mind is that Kankri doesn't actually want me,” he said. “He wants a display piece – something he can take to parties and show off so everyone will see how awesome he is. This has nothing to do with me personally.”

“Beastshit it doesn't,” Karkat said. “You're the display piece. Ergo, it's all about you.”

“It's about his ego,” Dirk said. “You took his display piece, so you hurt his ego. I prefer to stay with you, so I hurt his ego.” It was the closest Dirk has ever come to expressing actual affection for him and it made Karkat blink. “But that's only because he's still thinking of me solely as a display piece. I'm thinking it's about time he met the real me.”

A prickle of discomfort bloomed at the back of Karkat's neck.

“What the fuck are you suggesting?” he asked.

Dirk folded his arms across his chest.

“Let me talk to him. I'll make myself as objectionable as possible, until he has to realize he doesn't actually want me back.”

“One problem, mastermind,” Karkat said. “You've already made yourself objectionable. You spent half your waking hours making yourself objectionable when you lived with him. If those horrorterrors you call puppets didn't do the trick I don't see how you think one fucking conversation could make a difference.”

“No, I spent my time making him uncomfortable,” Dirk replied. “That was just for fun. And in retaliation for making me uncomfortable every time he opened his fucking mouth. But I toed the line because I had no where else to go and no desire to end up in a shelter. Now I have a safety net.”

Roxy giggled.

“Time to take the passive out of passive aggression,” she said.

Dirk nods his approval.

“Well put.”

Karkat shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Just – no – I mean – what if it doesn't work? Did you think of that? Or what if Kankri just scoops you up out of the entryway and absconds.”

“He won't. He's got a sermon in mind and he won't go without a chance to use it.”

“But what if he does?”

“Dude, if I can't take Kankri – ”

“You're five.”

“If I can't take Kankri,” Dirk persisted, “I have wasted a whole lot of Latula's time the last few perigees.”

“And we'll be there,” Sollux said. “We can thtop any abthconding.”

“I'd rather you weren't there, actually,” said Dirk. “Kankri has the most irritating habit of attributing everything I say to the nearest visible troll.”

“I didn't thay we'd be vithible,” Sollux replied.

Karkat stared at him.

“I cannot believe you're going along with this beastshit. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Calm down, KK, it'th worth a shot. And it'th not like ignoring him and hoping he'll go away hath done much good.”

“And what if it doesn't work? What then?”

“Then we go to court,” Roxy piped up. “And, like, sue for custody. We all know Kankri was the worst lusus and suitable care givers are pretty much the only rights we have. Dirk would probably have to go back to him in the meantime but you guys would totally win.”

“I think the human-napping charges would be a strike against us,” Karkat said.

“Psh. Details.” She waved a hand. “And Tavros would totally back us up, you know he would.”

“He would, wouldn't he,” said Dirk. “Between the human chow and the lack of vet visits – Hm. I like this. Not so much the idea of going back to live with him – ”

“You aren't going back,” Karkat said.

“ – but, as a Plan B, I like it. Well done, Roxy.”

Roxy beamed.

“See?” she said. “You don't always have to do everything yourself.”

A flicker of a smile chased across Dirk's face.

“Maybe not,” he said. “But let's stick with me handling it for Plan A, okay? It's cheaper and doesn't take as long.”

Karkat was pretty sure Dirk's dumbass plan wouldn't work but it was the only plan they had that didn't involve straight-up murder so it was the plan they went with. Murder, Karkat thought, would be less than advisable, considering they were already on shaky legal ground.

He slept with Sollux, that night, fitful and tense, and got up when the sun had barely begun to set. Sleepy bicolored eyes watched him get out of the cocoon but he didn't meet them and Sollux didn't speak. Karkat left the block without a word and turned up the spray over the ablution trap as hot as he could stand.

Breakfast, he decided, was the thing to do. What else was there to do at this time of the evening? Sickle practice? Tempting but a full stomach was a better way to start the night than bleeding fleshwounds. He thought, anyway. Sollux would probably say so.

He shared this epiphany with Dirk, when he appeared too soon not to have been waiting for a footfall on the stairs. Dirk raised an eyebrow at him.

Karkat shook his head and asked, “How many?”

The answer was six. That didn't make Karkat feel any better.

“This is a stupid idea, you know,” he said as he dropped the fragile-shelled protein nodules in to boil.

“What idea would that be?” Dirk asked.

Karkat bit off a growl.

“Your idea,” he says. “Your talking to Kankri idea. There's not a chance in the subterranean post-life evisceration chambers he's going to listen to you, so why bother?”

“Why bother talking when other people aren't listening,” Dirk said. “That's novel, coming from you.”

“Uh-huh, fuck you, too. You'll notice I don't talk to Kankri. I know a lost cause when I see one, unlike you, apparently.”

“Sure I do,” Dirk said. “You're the one who's not listening. The point isn't that he actually listen or retain anything I say. The point it that I assert myself and he be forced to see me as something other than a passive wiggler for him to preach at.”

“Which is all he sees anyone as,” Karkat said. “Unless they have an ass worth kissing, which you don't, making you a wiggler like the rest of us.”

“A wiggler he allegedly wants in his hive,” said Dirk. “That's the important part. I just need to be more trouble than I'm worth.”

“Congratu-fucking-lations.”

“More trouble to Kankri. I've spent my whole life humoring him and that's why he thinks he wants me around. I just need to stop humoring him. Damara doesn't and he leaves her alone.”

“How the fuck do you know about Damara? What do you know about Damara?”

“Word gets around.”

It wasn't an answer but it made Karkat nervous enough to leave the question alone.

“So that's your plan?” he asked. “Become Damara Megido? Should we call Kanaya over with a pleated skirt?”

“It's a little late, now. He'll be here before she can make it over. But just having one on hand might be – ”

“No.” Karkat turned around, brandishing his nutrition flipping utensil like a sick. “No, stop. You will stop right this second because you are five and I am your lusus and whatever words you are thinking of saying will not be said in front of me.”

“So if I weren't five – ”

“Ever. You are never to say those words in my presence. I don't care how old you get, I don't care if weird time paradox shit occurs to make you older than me, I don't care if it's your dying wish. No. Never. I am your lusus.”

“You mentioned that, yeah.” Dirk sounded amused. “I think your nodules are done frying, bee tee dubs.”

Karkat turns and stares at the blackened mass of his breakfast. All he can say is, “Fuck.”

Dirk answered the door. Karkat was halfway to his feet, fully prepared to do it himself, but the kid had more or less perfected his flashstep and made it before Karkat was fully off the multiseat unit. Karkat paused, startled by the sound of the opening door, and Sollux took the moment to yank him back down. He squawked and a narrow hand clapped over his mouth and dragged him close, until he was pinned in Sollux's arms. It wasn't exactly a bad place to be – warm and solid, a little bony, but enough evident strength to make Karkat feel secure. So he didn't fight it too much. He just sat there, quivering with nervous energy, until the hand fell away from his mouth and began rubbing circles on his sternum.

He batted it away.

“Stop that,” he muttered and Sollux huffed. “You're trying to distract me.”

“Ith it working?” His voice was muffled, buried in Karkat's neck.

“It would be,” Karkat conceded, “if it weren't my wiggler's life on the line.”

Sollux huffed again. His breath was moist and hot against Karkat's skin.

“Kankri won't kill him, KK.”

“Living with Kankri is living death. And after this he'll be worse. And Dirk will know what a reasonable fucking household feels like and that'll be even worse.”

“Dirk'th not going anywhere,” Sollux insisted. “He can't take him by forthe.”

“Probably not,” Karkat said. “But I still – wait, shut up.”

They both shut up, listening.

“ – nothing to discuss with them.” Dirk's voice had risen high enough to reach the recreation block but sank again to inaudibility. Kankri maintained his strict monotone, just out of earshot.

“The only time in my whole fucking life I've wanted to hear what he was saying,” Karkat said.

Sollux had shifted to rest his chin on Karkat's shoulder and not spoke softly in his ear.

“D Eth ith getting pithed. I've never heard him lothe hith cool.”

“Well, it's Kankri. His beastshit has stench enough to penetrate any armor.”

“Mm.” Sollux's arms tightened around Karkat and Karkat found his hands holding Sollux's wrists in turn. It occurred to him that maybe Sollux was as nervous as he was.

“Courthe I am,” Sollux said, when the thought slipped out. “He'th our wiggler.”

Karkat swallowed.

“Damn right he is,” he said.

And together they sat and waited for the door to close.

Kankri's eyes were fixed a few inches too high when Dirk opened the portal and it took a second or two for them to refocus and find their target. He was expecting Karkat, then. Understandable, but it was Dirk's hive, too. And Roxy's. When half the occupants of a given hive are substantially under the average height for a troll, you oughta be ready for one of them answer the portal. Very poor planning but that was Kankri. All the foresight of dry ice.

“Sup,” Dirk said, when all that had gone through his head and Kankri still hadn't said a word. “Kankri.”

Kankri licked his lips.

“Dirk,” he said. “Hello. I wasn't – Is Karkat in?”

“Yeah, he's here. Snuggling with Sollux, I think.”

A grimace passed over Kankri's face. Dirk couldn't tell if it was discomfort or just distaste.

“May I speak with him?” Kankri asked.

“Yeah, no,” Dirk said. “How about you talk to me, instead?”

“While I always enjoy our discussions, Dirk, I really don't think that would be appropriate. The matter I have to discuss with Karkat is both delicate and time-sensitive and to delay it unduly could seriously compromise – ”

“So don't.”

Kankri blinked.

“Don't delay it,” Dirk clarified and Kankri blinked again.

“I'm afraid I don't understand.

“It's me you're here to talk about,” Dirk said. “So here's a novel suggestion – talk about it with me. Karkat's just the middleman. He's not here, we are, so let's talk. Lay it on me.”

Kankri's brows had drawn together and his lips were pursed.

“Dirk, I'm not sure you quite understand the gravity of this situaiton.”

“Sure I do. I'm legally your human. Karkat and Sollux removed me from your hive and refuse to give me back, putting them in the wrong, legally speaking. You're here to talk me back and if you don't get me you're threatening to call the cops on them. Pretty simple. What's there to misunderstand?”

“Ah.” He keeps looking more confused. It's kind of funny. “Then you are aware it was without my consent you were brought here?”

“Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?”

“I had assumed – but this isn't a conversation we should be having without Karkat. And you said Sollux is also aware this is in essence an abduction situation?”

“Yup, pretty much everyone's aware of that, dude.”

“Then I need to speak with him, as well. Perhaps if you'd let me in – ”

“Nah.”

“It's imperative I speak with them. If you know the situation then I'm sure you can appreciate how critical it is that it be handled in a responsible fashion, with lines of communication open between all parties involved and – ”

“Am I invited to your little tete-a-tete with Karkat and Sol?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You wanna talk to them. If I let you in, go I get to be involved in the conversation?”

“I really don't think that would be wise. I can understand how confused you must be but I fear this episode must have already been unnecessarily upsetting for you and it's best to leave it's resolution to – ”

“But you said the parties involved. I'm a party, I'm involved. I am so involved in this shit, I'd say I'm more involved than the rest of you so why are you trying to shut down my lines of communication? Not cool, dude.”

Kankri made a face when Dirk cursed and kept making it after he was done.

“When this is over,” Kankri said, “I see we'll have to have a serious talk about the use of profanity and it's potential to seriously trigger – ”

“Nah.”

“What?”

“I said, 'nah'. Or, in layman's terms, no, Kankri, I don't think we will be having a serious talk about my use of profanity, or about anything else. Ever. Because when this is over, you and me aren't going to be seeing much of each other. What you seem to be missing here is that I'm not going back with you.”

“I beg your pardon.”

A flash of actual anger went across Kankri's face, mixed heavily with incomprehension, but there nevertheless. It wasn't something Dirk had often seen and it was surprisingly intimidating. But Dirk didn't get intimidated. It wasn't a thing he did. So he said, “I'm staying here. Send the cops if you really want to but I'm not going back unless they chain me up and force me.”

“That's it,” said Kankri and drew himself up to his full height. “This has gone on quite long enough.”

“I agree.”

“Then perhaps you'll call Karkat and Sollux so we can – ”

“No.”

“I insist that – ”

“There is nothing you need to discuss with them,” Dirk said. He was aware he was on the verge of losing his cool and dialed it back with an effort. “Nothing that can't be better discussed with me. I helped Karkat plan this abduction, as you call it, and there's nothing he or Sollux can say about it that I can't. And talking to Karkat could prove unnecessarily upsetting for him.”

“He should be upset,” Kankri snapped. “He has stolen my human.”

“Pretty much know that. I was there. I helped.”

“Then you should know – but this is preposterous. I am not going to have this discussion with a – You are not fit to – ”

Dirk waited for him to sputter himself out and then, casually, suggested, “Strife.”

Kankri stared.

“What?”

“Strife,” Dirk said again. “You aren't interested in listening to me, I am rapidly getting bored with listening to you, so I say we settle this the old-fashioned way.” He decaptchalogued his katana. “Strife.”

Kankri found his tongue again.

“That is – barbaric. I will not – ”

“Then fuck off. Have fun with the police.”

He began to close the portal but stopped when a sylladex chimed. Kankri had a pistol in each hand.

“I can see that this is the only language you'll understand,” Kanrki said.

Dirk allowed himself half a smile.

“Sweet,” he said, and stepped outside.

Chapter Text

The meeting is too sudden to expect Tavros to bake anything so Karkat tells him not to bother, then retreats to the nutrition block and cooks. Sollux is holed up in his own block with Roxy, both of them pouring through whatever documentation he's dredged up, refusing to come out or comment on whatever might or might not be in it. Apparently forcing Sollux to sleep was something approaching a culling offense and, since murdering his fated moirail is out of the question, Sollux has decreed that neither Karkat nor Dirk will be allowed to know everything until it is announced at the meeting.

So Karkat cooks and, as he cooks, he frets.

Dirk, meanwhile, paces. He can't seem to settle anywhere on anything but between spates of haunting Sollux's closed portal he lurks around the nutrition block, so Karkat eventually puts him to work on the deviled protein nodules.

“And don't fucking eat them,” he says. “They're for our guests.”

Dirk doesn't fight him – doesn't say anything, actually – and only steals three of the boiled nodule halves. Karkat calls this an acceptable loss, since two of them are actually broken.

The wait is interminable but, like all things, it does end. The guests are at last assembled and fed and Sollux and Roxy have emerged, bright and energetic, from their sequester. When Sollux corners him in the nutrition block, away from potential on-lookers, Karkat punches him in the arm. He laughs and Karkat hugs the breath out of him.

“Shithead,” he says. “I suppose you aren't going to tell me now, either.”

“Patience, KK,” says Sollux and pats the back of his head.

“Fuck you,” Karkat tells him and punches his arm again.

The meeting is called to order – slightly late, to judge by the flip of Vriska's hair – and Karkat starts things off.

“I want to apologize, first, for not telling you more over Trollian,” he says. “If it were up to me I'd have memoed the whole story and been done with it. But someone here – ” he elbows Sollux's bony side “ – is a giant shitty drama queen and refused to actually give me any of the relevant information. Really I don't know why I'm apologizing, it wasn't my fault douchelord went into a snit, but as his moirail I guess that makes his snits at least in part my responsibility. So there's my fuckup. I'm apologizing for having failed in preventing my moirail from having whiny wiggler tantrums and withholding valuable information from the populace. My bad.” He looks over at Sollux, who is giving him a thoroughly infuriating grin, and wishes he'd punched him harder back in the nutrition block.

“But now that we're all here,” he continues, “assfuck's gigantic wiggler ego should theoretically have been appeased and we can finally get some gogdamned answers. Well? Fuck you, Captor, you're on.”

Sollux reaches out one hand to pat Karkat's face while the other casually opens his husktop. Karkat slaps him away with a growl and he laughs.

“Thankth, babe, for that blood-pusher heating introduction. And, yeth, conthider my whiny wiggler ego appeathed. Now gather round, peathantth, and abthorb my withdom.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Karkat says.

Sollux stabs a finger in his face.

“Thilence!” he says. “Let'th get thith show on the road.”

Sweeps in the past (but not many):

Some part of Dirk expected this to be easy. Some part of him thought that, on the off chance Kankri actually accepted his challenge, it would be over quickly, quick enough that maybe Karkat and Sollux wouldn't have to see it. Some part of him thought Kankri wouldn't know how to fight, not really, and Dirk could just dodge a couple wild shots and have a sword at his throat, no big. Strife won, concession earned. Easy.

It wasn't easy.

Kankri knew how to use those pistols.

He knew how to stand, how to aim, how to track fast-moving objects and Dirk's flashstep wasn't quite good enough to do much besides dodge bullets.

He was on the defensive from the start and Kankri's pistols were the new energy-based model with no ammo to reload. There was no opportunity there, even if strife law didn't prohibit attacks like that, not even a chance to rethink things.

Dirk was moving all the time, circling every second, and Kankri – Kankri was not saying a gogdamn word.

He was firing, a round for each steady breath, always on mark to where Dirk had stood an instant before. Torso shots, every time.

Maybe if he would have fucking said something it would've been less unnerving.

Dirk became aware of how much energy he was using, how much it took out of him just to stay clear of harm. Became aware that this wasn't a strife, really, so much as it was free target practice for Kankri, and in that moment something hit him, something tore into his bicep – the left bicep, thank fuck – something burn sharp, like a bullet. It was a bullet, or whatever approximation Kankri's pistols used, and fuck, fuck, fuck, this is not how this was supposed to go.

Something else hit him, something hot and wrong and needy, and then he was in a tree, he was in a fucking tree, what was he, a flutterbeast, and that was Karkat's voice in his head, Karkat yelling at him to get down from there and stop being a fucking wiggler baby, but Kankri had been aiming heart-center, death center, and Dirk was not ready for that.

Dirk was not ready.

There was movement on the ground.

Kankri, closer to the tree.

Karkat, standing on the stoop. Sollux, one arm holding Karkat's waist like they'd both fall or fly without it. And Roxy, peeking around them.

Dirk was not ready for a lot of things.

But he'd like to be. Eventually.

Kankri was lining up his shot and Dirk – Dirk jumped.

It was not a conscious decision; it was the only decision to be made.

There was another burning tear in him, the side of his left knee, and then he was on the ground with Kankri under him and well-fucking-done, panic brain, there was a katana at Kankri's throat. Dirk had no idea how he managed that.

Dirk had no idea about a lot of things, all of a sudden, but his voice was level when he asked, “Forfeit?”

The Present:

“They're from another planet.”

It's not Sollux but Kankri who says it, standing in the rec block portal, clutching the oddly stretched collar of his sweater, eyes wide and wild. “Earth,” he says, before anyone has a chance to react. “It's called Earth, the human homeworld. The Crocker Corporation has been surreptitiously harvesting genetic material from Earth humans and cloning them for use as pets by the trolls of Beforus.”

Dirk takes his eyes off Kankri to look at Karkat, who is gaping uselessly from his hatchmate to Sollux and back. Sollux is looking only at Kankri and he mostly looks put out. Which is answer enough, really.

Dirk opens his mouth and is beaten to confirmation by Feferi.

“Is that true, Sollux?”

Sollux shoves his ocular shields up on his nose and frowns at the screen of his husktop.

“Bathically,” he says. “It'th a little more complicated than that but if you have the comprehenthion levelth of a thtupid grub who poopth their under garmentth, yeah, that workth.”

Dirk frowns to himself.

Jane asks, “Then how did we get to – where we were found? The caves and the beaches?”

Kankri opens his mouth but miraculously has nothing to say on that subject. Sollux takes a moment to glower at him before answering.

“From what I've been able to work out, thith ithn't a thtrictly legal thing they're doing. Shocking, I know, who'd have thought thurreptitiouthly introduthing a whole new thpecieth onto the planet would be illegal? Tho my betht guess is they've been theeding the wigglerth around areath where they're likely to be found to make it appear ath though they're naturally occurring. Which ith a really fucking thtupid idea, but it keepth thuthpicion off them so I gueth it workth.”

Dirk looks at Karkat, again, curious as to what he thinks of this stroke of genius. Karkat is still just gaping, though, out of commission for the moment. Dirk glances around the room once more then says, “So. I'm a clone.”

Sollux hesitates before answering and his voice is careful, if not hesitant.

“Yeth. You're a clone. You're all clones.”

Dirk nods.

“So there's another me,” he says. “Running around this Earth place. And he's the real Dirk, or whatever his name is. And I'm the copy.”

Karkat makes a sputtery noise.

“I wouldn't put it like that,” Sollux replies. “You're not not real.”

“But I am a copy.”

Sollux has nothing to say to that; Dirk nods again.

“How about Dave?” he asks. “Did Dirk Prime and Roxy Prime get their mammalian mating practices on to make Dave Prime?”

“I don't think tho,” Sollux says. “CrockerCorp started experimenting with mixing genetic material themthelveth about three thweepth ago.”

“Sweet. So Dave is Dave Prime. That's good to know.” He hauls himself to his feet. “I'm gonna be a real bad host and excuse myself. You guys have fun with Kankri.”

“Dirk – ” That's Jane and also Porrim and the weird cracking noise is Karkat but Dirk flashsteps all the way to his block and locks the door.

Porrim goes after him. It's a detail that doesn't strike Karkat in the moment but eventually will. In the moment, Karkat is too shocked to notice details. Shocked and then, inevitably, angry.

“You,” he says, springing to his feet to round on Kankri. “What the great green skullfucking sun are you doing here, you festering sack of mutilated hoofbeast viscera? I didn't invite you here. Sollux didn't invite you here. Dirk and Roxy sure as shit didn't invite you here. So why the fuck are you stinking up the air in our hive?

Kankri stares. Everyone is staring. Karkat does not care.

“Well?” he says. “Well? Did you not hear me? Was that not loud enough? Has the diarhhea masquerading as your thinksponge dribbled down into your ears? I'll ask you again. What the fuck are you doing in my hive?”

Kankri's not stepping back, which is a testament to something, Karkat's not sure what. Courage or idiocy one. He's not stepping back but he's not coming forward, either. He's staying in the entry portal. Kankri licks his lips.

“Porrim informed me of your interest in the origins of the humans of Beforus,” he says. “I happened to attend a small gathering tonight at which several members of the CrockerCorp board of directors were present and managed to persuade one of them to confide in me. I thought you would want to know promptly.”

“Message delivered,” Karkat says. “Now get the fuck out.”

A hand lands on Karkat's shoulder. It's Sollux, beside and behind him, eyes glowing in Kankri's direction.

“You heard him,” he says. “Out.”

Kankri shifts his weight.

“My message is not delivered,” he says. “Not in its entirety. There's more you have to know.”

“There'th nothing you can tell uth about humanth and Earth that ithn't in my computer right now,” Sollux says. Sparks are rising between his horns.

“But they're violent!” Kankri bursts out. “The history of humanity is a history of brutality, soaked in amounts of blood trolls couldn't even dream of!”

“War?” Karkat says. “They have wars? We have wars, what the fuck is your point?”

“Not just war,” Kankri persists. “Genocide. Atrocities the likes of which we, as a more advanced race, can't imagine. We're talking about a dangerously unstable race, even more unstable than I'd initially feared, and it's imperative that steps are taken to protect them from themselves.”

“This shit again,” Karkat says, but Kankri isn't looking at him anymore.

“Feferi,” he says. “I'd like an audience with the Empress at once. Surely you can see now that this campaign you've aligned yourself with is madness? Humans cannot be allowed to exist unchecked or they're sure to drive themselves to extinction or worse.”

“I'm – not sure – ” Feferi begins.

“I am. I'm aware this must be confusing for you. You're so young, still, and I'm certain you believed human independence was the kindest course of action. You can't have known that this was a race capable of the vilest acts of carnage and oppression possible. Allow me to educate you on the subject and I'm certain you'll come to see that – ”

“Stop.”

It's not Karkat, though he has to blink once or twice to be sure. It's not Sollux either, despite the psionic potential now making the rooms' hair stand on end.

“You stop it right the hell now.”

It's Cronus, on his feet near the back of the room, teeth bared, fins flaring, and Karkat wonders if he has a moirail on site.

“She's just a gogdamned kid, Kankri, and you – you're a gogdamned bully. You talk a good game about rights and equality but when it comes down to it you're fulla it cause you can't see what's right in front a your gogdamn face. You don't know everything and I don't know everything and I sure as shit don't know about these Earth humes but I know it doesn't matter because this campaign ain't about them. It's about these humes right here, about how they're every inch as smart an' capable as we are. You lived with Dirk-fuckin'-Strider, you know this shit, Kanny, an' it's about time you owned up to it and stopped tryin' to cover your ass. So either suck it up or leave. You're trespassin' and I got the power to make arrests.”

There's a pause – silent, breathless. Sollux's claws have burrowed through Karkat's sweater, are cutting little gouges into his skin.

Kankri says, “I didn't realize you had been promoted, Cronus. Congratulations.”

There's another pause, this one merely stunned. Then Cronus roars.

Karkat and Sollux are knocked sideways, onto the multiseat unit, by a blur of angry seatroll and, when Karkat can look up again, both Cronus and Kankri are gone. The front portal slams open then closed again and muffled shouting and snarling floats in from the lawn square.

“Shit,” Eridan is saying. “Shit, shit, shit.” He begins to stagger to his feet but Feferi tugs him back down.

“Wait,” she says.

“Wait?” He lurches again, trying to escape her grip. “He'll kill him, Fef, you know he'll kill him.”

“Not immediately,” she says. “Just give them a minute, okay?” And she shoots him a smile Karkat hasn't seen before. It's almost mean.

Eridan seems to relax at it, though, and nods.

“All right,” he says. “But just a minute. An' I'm gonna go watch from the door.”

Feferi signals her acceptance of this compromise by releasing his shoulder with a final pat and then he's gone in a flutter of scarf. The shouts are louder, then softer, again, as he ducks out.

Karkat stares after him, then squirms upright on the multiseat unit, shoving Sollux over. He looks around at the shocked faces of the initiative and tries to think of something to say.

“Where's Dave?” is what he comes up with.

“Here!” John calls cheerily from his seat beside Vriska on the floor. And, on closer examination, Dave is there, curled up with his knees to his chest, posture defensive, expression blank.

“What,” Dave says. It isn't a question.

“Making sure you didn't go flying out the door with your guardians,” Karkat says and John laughs.

“Pshoooooooo,” he says and elbows Dave.

Dave elbows back with excessive force and a scuffle breaks out. Jade hurries to join in and the trolls sit and watch for far longer than they ought to.

Sweeps in the past (but not many):

“You planned this,” was the first coherent thing out of Karkat's mouth when Dirk got back inside. “You filthy pussack, you planned this.”

Dirk didn't say anything and didn't flinch when Roxy applied a pad of peroxide to his injured knee. She was doing the patching up on the grounds Karkat was shaking too hard and Sollux was busy rubbing Karkat's shoulders. They were all gathered in the nutrition block, Karkat and Dirk in seats facing each other while the other two hovered around.

“KK,” Sollux said.

“Shut up,” said Karkat. “Just shut up, okay, I don't need this, right now, I don't need to be pacified right now, what I need is an expla-fucking-nation of what exactly douchefuck was thinking when he decided to face down a grown-ass troll armed with guns with his gogdamn katana. That's what I need right now and that is all I need right now so I'll thank you to shut the fuck up.”

Dirk still wasn't looking at him, still wasn't looking at anything in particular and hadn't been for as long as he'd been inside. His ocular shields were off, removed by Roxy during her initial inspection, and orange eyes were shuttered.

“Well?” Karkat snarled. “Answer me.”

Roxy finished bandaging Dirk's knee and moved on to the graze on his upper arm. She was frowning a very determined frown.

“Dirk,” Sollux said, squeezing Karkat's shoulders. “We do need thome kind of explanation here. That wath a pretty epic what the fuck.”

“What the fuck, it was an epic what in the name of the grand empress of all fucks,” Karkat said. “It was a what the blue, pink, green and umami fucks were you fucking thinking, you stupid fuck? It was a what the fuck of proportions so vast and indescribable it could be seen from neighboring galaxies. Nonsentient beings from other planes of existence want to know what fuck, Dirk, so why not put us all out of our fucking misery and fucking say something.”

He started to get to his feet and Sollux held him in a crackle of psionics that sparked too bright and too bold. Sollux didn't seem to notice but Karkat reached for his wrist and held on until the lightshow settled and dispersed and Roxy was finishing up her bandaging.

Karkat took a deep breath.

“Are you even listening?” he asked. “Are you paying attention at all? Or is your psyche too twisted to concern itself with the petty grievances of your lusus's emotions?”

“KK,” Sollux said again, a warning in his tone.

Karkat shook his head.

“He had guns, Sollux. Dirk knew he had guns. Everybody knows Kankri uses fucking guns, it's the only interesting thing about him. In what way is challenging a trigger-happy maniac to a strife not functionally equivalent to taking a big, smelly dump on the emotional and psychological well-being of everyone who cares about him, to say nothing of his own physical well-being? No matter how fucking confident boy-genius here is – ”

Karkat was cut off by a ringing slap to Dirk's face. Roxy hadn't bothered to take her rings off. As Karkat and Sollux stared, Dirk slowly turned his head to look at her, eyes focusing for the first time. He raised a hand to touch his cheek.

“Roxy,” he said.

“You're not dying,” she said. “So you can talk. Your totally reasonable explanation of the last hour should be super interesting.”

Dirk didn't look away but a twitch around his eyes said he wanted to.

“It worked, didn't it?”

Karkat opened his mouth, ready to shout, but Roxy's upheld hand stopped him. There was a silence.

Dirk said, “It worked. He's going to leave us alone, now. That was the whole point. Does it really matter how I did it?”

There was another silence. Dirk, done talking, now did look away.

Roxy lowered her hand and folded her arms across her chest.

“Karkat's right,” she said. “You totally planned this. You knew this would happen.” Dirk didn't say anything. “I should have figured it out,” she said. “I knew you had something up your sleeve because he was never going to listen but it never occurred to me your plan was suicide.”

“It wasn't suicide,” Dirk said, so suddenly he couldn't have meant to. “I'm still here, aren't I?”

“You were going to win or let him kill you,” Roxy said and Karkat let out a croak. Sollux's claws were digging into his shoulders. “I can't believe you were going to let him kill you,” she continued. “I can't believe you didn't think – you didn't know that it would break my heart – ”

She cut off and Dirk looked up at her, alarm in place of his usual passive mask.

“Roxy,” he said.

She slapped him, again. It was harder, rang louder, and her ring tore into his cheek, drawing blood.

“Roxy,” he said again, and she absconded.

A moment later, Karkat was on his feet.

“You,” he said, one finger pointing at Dirk's face. His eyes were fixed on the blood. “You,” he said again. “Just – You – Just – Fuck you. Fuck you.” And he turned and marched out.

Dirk stared after him. Sollux moved around behind him, going for the medical kit and Dirk sat quietly as he applied a small adhesive strip to the cut on his cheek. When he was done, Dirk looked up. They stared at each other.

“You fucked up,” Sollux said.

Dirk returned his gaze to the portal where Roxy and then Karkat had vanished.

“Yeah,” he said. “I'm starting to get that.”

He didn't see Sollux's hand come to rest on his shoulder, but he felt it, and was grateful.

Chapter Text

Cronus doesn't kill Kankri but it's a near thing. Ahab's Crosshairs make an appearance, as do Kankri's pistols, but Eridan cuts them off before things turn bloody. There's conciliation in the air but Kankri makes a break for it before things get too ashen, which is just as well. Eridan may have just fallen ass over horns into moirallegiance with Cronus but he has less than no interest in quadranting with that particular Vantas.

“Hey,” he says, one hand on Cronus's chest. “Hey.”

Cronus is watching Kankri's retreating back and doesn't seem to hear.

“Hey,” Eridan says again and pats Ahab's Crosshairs. “Put that shit away.”

Cronus captchalogues it but still doesn't speak. Eridan moves closer, lays both hands on Cronus's shoulders, blocking his view of Kankri's abscond.

“Thanks,” he says. “The gun's real suave and all but it ain't what you'd call an ideal accessory for gettin' personal.”

Cronus blinks and actually seems to see him for the first time.

“Y-you gettin' personal, Eri?” he says and it doesn't sound like innuendo. It just sounds like a question. Eridan raises a hand to his face.

“Damn right I'm gettin' personal,” he says. “Shoosh.”

A quiver goes through Cronus's body.

“Ah, fuck, Eri,” he says and drops his head forward, onto Eridan's shoulder. Eridan wraps his arms around him.

“Shoosh,” he says again. “Shoosh. Don't cry, numbskull, come on. Shoosh. That pancracked sack a shit ain't worth it.”

“I ain't,” says Cronus, a transparent lie. “I ain't cryin'. I just – fuck, Eri, I just liked him so much.”

“I know ya did, Cro. I know you did. Shoosh.”

Cronus is quiet, snuffling into the fabric of Eridan's sweater. They're not noisy tears, not dramatic – they're the soft, near-silent tears of honest grief for something lost. Whether that something is Kankri or just Cronus's image of Kankri Eridan can't say.

When a few minutes have passed and the waterworks seem to be over with, Eridan slips out of Cronus's grip, slides an arm around his back and leads him back towards the hive.

“Chin up,” he tells him. “Can't let Davey see you lookin' a wreck.”

“Naw,” Cronus agrees. “Kid's too young for this shit. You got a handkerchief?”

“Of course.” They pause on the stoop outside the entry portal as Eridan fishes one from his pocket. “A true gentletroll ain't ever without his handkerchief.”

“Well, yeah,” Cronus says, wiping at the purple tracks on his cheeks. “But I was askin' you.”

“That's real nice,” Eridan says. “A guy steps in to pacify at his hatchmate's time of need and what's he get? Insults.”

“Yeah,” Cronus says and eyes Eridan over the handkerchief. “About that. The pacifyin' an such. Was that a one off deal? Or what kinda deal are we talkin' here?”

Eridan shifts his weight to one foot and looks away.

“To tell the honest truth,” he says, “I think you been my moirail for a while now.” He shrugs and risks a glance back at Cronus's startled face. “What with all the feelins we been talkin' out and raisin' the kid together and so forth. This ain't how I pictured my quadrants fillin' out but – I'm for it. If, ya know, you are.”

The look on Cronus's face shifts slowly – startled to baffled then onto an honest grin, violet eyes shining in the stoop light.

“Yeah,” he says. “I'm for it. An' if we've already been moirailin' it up, like you said – what the hell? Let's make it official.”

There's not much Eridan can do with that smile but return it – return it and hug it, dragging Cronus in along the way, into a hard embrace that ends with a firm kiss to his temple.

“Pity you, Cro.”

“Pity you, too, Eri,” Cronus says and gives Eridan a final squeeze. “Let's get inside,” he says, “and see what they've been doin' with our baby.”

And then, hands clasped together like wigglers under a lusus's indulgent eye, they go back in.

Sweeps in the past (but not many):

Roxy was easy. After giving her some time to calm down – and having a serious talk with Sollux about what was and was not cool going forward – he went to her block and found the portal open, her sprawled on the floor, reading a thick paperback. It was so normal it was surreal and he stood still for a long moment, soaking it in.

She was too good for him.

“Roxy?” he said, not taking the step in.

She looked up smiling – smiling! – and said, “Hey, Dirky. What're you doing lurking in my portal? Are you being a creeper again?”

“Creeper's gonna creep,” he said. “I've gotta be true to myself. Creeping is my one true calling in this life.”

Roxy laughed and he stepped across the threshold.

“Damn, yes. Yes, it is,” she said. “Did you need something?”

She was smiling, still, but there was something sharp in her eyes, something hard. Still angry, then. Dirk absolutely did not fidget.

“Yeah,” he said. “About down there.” He gestured back towards the staircase. “I wanted to apologize. Not for – getting shit done but for – I should have talked to you. We could have found a better way.”

Roxy nodded.

“Shit, yeah, we could've,” she said. “But we didn't get the chance. Because you still think you've gotta do everything yourself. Because you're a dumbfuck.”

“I'm a dumbfuck,” Dirk agreed. “A total and complete dumbfuck. I may, in fact, be the biggest dumbfuck currently breathing the air of this dumbfuck planet. Forgive me?”

Some of the hardness had left her eyes.

“Of course I forgive you,” she said. “Dumbfuck. You gonna talk to Karkat?”

The smile that had been fighting to form on Dirk's face withered and warm glow around his bloodpusher dimmed. He stood a little straighter.

“Yeah,” he said. “I've got to.”

“Come sit with me for a bit,” she suggested. “Let Solbutt calm him down. You've already strifed once, today, and Karkitty's not a pushover like Kankri.”

Her logic, Dirk thought, was sound. And he could hear Sollux on the stairs.

“Excellent idea,” he said, moving further into the room. “What work of literary genius are we perusing tonight?”

The Present:

When the kids have been separated and safely distracted by a game of The Floor is Molten Mineral Aggregate with Nepeta and Feferi, Karkat goes to find Dirk. He has to argue with Equius about it but that one's an easy win. “I'm his lusus” trumps “I'm involved in a weird, stilted flushed courtship but am not actually quadranted with him” any day.

Roxy and Jane watch him go; Jake pretends not to. He'll figure out what to say to them later. The priority now is figuring out what to say to Dirk. Maybe 'Strife' will be sufficient?

He doesn't get a chance to try it. Porrim is on guard at the entryway and “I'm his lusus” doesn't impress her.

“I'm aware of that,” she says. “And I'm his – friend. And as his friend, it's my opinion we should leave him be, at least for the moment.”

Karkat would kind of love it if that were true but, “What if he throws himself out the viewing portal or something?”

“In that case, I've misjudged his state of mind and take full responsibility for nursing him through his convalescence.”

Karkat folds his arms and eyes the portal's opening mechanism until Porrim steps in front of it.

“I'm less worried about the convalescence than I am the funeral expenses,” he says.

“Karkat,” Porrim says, “I understand how you feel. I have a human, too. But please trust me. Dirk is in no danger. He has been presenting with new and unsettling information and needs time to process it.”

“And if the processing leads him out the portal?”

“We've covered that. You may feel free to shout at me if it does.”

“Damn right I'll shout at you,” he says, then adds, “I'm not strifing you because Dirk wouldn't like it and it would set a bad example for the kids. It has nothing to do with how bad you would inevitably beat my ass.”

She gives him a smile that says she too used to winning to gloat and he goes off grumbling back down the stairs.

The door opens a few seconds later.

“You know,” Dirk says, leaning a shoulder into the portal frame. “I'd be pretty pissed at you, too, if you kicked his ass. Just sayin'.”

“I'm aware of that,” Porrim says. “He would be, too, if he didn't have such a terminally low opinion of himself.”

Dirk shoots her a look. She's still smiling.

“I thought we were here to talk about my myriad personal issues,” he says.

“Is that an invitation?”

“Fuck no.”

She doesn't say anything. And she's still smiling.

“Fuck,” he says. “Yes. Come in. I've got the pile all ready.”

“If it contains any smuppets – ”

“Someone else is nursing me through my convalescence,” he says. “I know.

“Karkat couldn't pull of the uniform,” Porrim notes. “Roxy, perhaps.”

“Just get in here,” says Dirk, and he's almost laughing with it.

She comes inside and he closes the door behind her.

Sweeps in the past (but not many):

Karkat was difficult. Not because he took longer – he didn't, not really – but because it hurt, it physically hurt Dirk to take what he had coming to him. Karkat unloaded on him, all barrels blasting, and Dirk just stood there for all the long minutes it took him to finish. He just stood there and he listened to every word.

“He would have killed you, he would have fucking killed you and you would have let him, you would have made him fucking kill you because it wouldn't have been good enough to lose a little blood, oh no, you couldn't just lose and live with assfuck until we established in the court of law that no troll who fires a gun at a human should be allowed to maintain custody of that human, you couldn't fucking do that, could you, that would have been too fucking easy – ”

“You would have died, you would have left us and fucking died and it would have been my fault, do you understand that? It would have been my fault because it was my hive and your dumbshit idea and I went along with it. I knew it was a dumbshit idea but I still went afuckinglong with it like a wiggler with a traumatic brain injury, I went along with that shit and you could have fucking died because of it – ”

“We fucking love you, do you not realized that, do you not fucking realize that or do you not care? Because I care, I fucking care and I think it's fucking crucial, and important fucking detail that you missed out in your troll Machiavelli dumbshit planning stage, that we fucking love you and do you have any fucking idea what it would do to us, do you have any idea, any at all, because I don't, I fucking don't, I have no idea, Dirk, none at all – ”

“Karkat. Karkat.”

He kept rambling, kept ranting, but it was all nonsense, now, words strung together by shock and terror with nothing to give them shape.

“Karkat,” Dirk said again.

There were pink stains on Karkat's gray face and Dirk could feel his own eyes stinging.

“Karkat,” he said.

“Fuck you, fuck you, you fucking dumbass, fuck you – ”

“I'm sorry,” he said. “Yes, I'm a dumbass, I'm sorry, Karkat, please.”

“Fuck your apology,” Karkat snapped and came closer, came intimately close and Dirk wondered it he was going to throttle him. He wondered if he would bother stopping him. “And fuck you.”

“I'm sorry,” he said again.

Karkat let out a wail of wordless rage and grabbed him, grip blueblood strong and painful. He held on and he didn't let go.

“I'm sorry,” Dirk breathed, hands weak fists in Karkat's shirt.

“Fuck you,” said Karkat once again.

And then they didn't talk at all.

Karkat was difficult. But in the end, they made it through.

The Present:

When the Amporas come by, again, two nights later, Dirk is busy at his husktop, searching through CrockerCorp notes on human social structure. Dave demands his attention and he gives it, in the form of a quick cuddle and an offer to let him assist in the research process. But Roxy has dug up some of their own toys from fuck-knows-where and Dirk's allure is not stronger than that of a big sister armed with three-dimensional construction shapes. So off Dave goes with Cronus and Roxy, to build a city on the rec block floor, leaving Dirk in the nutrition block with Eridan and Karkat, half-listening to them gossip as he keeps reading.

It's interesting that humans still have multiple sovereign nations. In the misty past, so did Beforus, but becoming united under the Empress had been turning point so crucial to troll development it's difficult to imagine any cultural or technological advancement occurring in a society that had remained so fractured.

The Amporas have made it official. That's nice. Karkat is using 'fuck' a lot but those sound like happy 'fuck's so Dirk supposes he agrees.

Different systems of government, too. Democracy sounds fucking insane, not to mention totally inefficient. Maybe humans, en masse, are saner than groups of trolls? Dirk does not think that sounds likely but it seems to be a pretty popular system, among what CrockerCorp deems the more developed countries.

Karkat takes it upon himself to announce Dirk's newly-formed diamond. Thanks, Karkat. Dirk sits very still while Eridan gapes at him, then kicks Karkat under the table. The return kick is gentle, almost playful, and he kind of wants to smile.

Monarchies sound closer to the Beforan system. Humans are mammals, so their direct offspring take over, instead of hatchmates, or waiting around for the right eggs to hatch. There's a word for it, for groups of genetically linked mammals – family. Dirk feels something, as he looks at that word. Something warm, down deep in his chest.

Family.

He risks a look up. Conversation has moved on from his romantic life, thank gog, and onto Cronus's romantic life. Karkat and Eridan are talking in lower tones, now – lower for Karkat, anyway – about the pros (Eridan) and cons (emphatically Karkat) of trying to set him up with somebody in the flushed quadrant. That sounds disastrous.

Out in the rec block, Dave is trashing the carefully-constructed city, roaring like a dragon, while Cronus flails and Roxy laughs. She catches Dirk looking and laughs harder, eyes soft and shining.

“Dirk,” she calls over. “Come on, play with us. You can't sit at your husktop all night. It's impolite.”

Family, Dirk thinks. It feels – something about it feels right. My family, he thinks, and that feels even better.

He closes his husktop and goes to join in.