Archive of Our Own

“No, no, and no!” You exclaim, a hint of a growl to your voice as you practically slam down your cup. Some of its contents slosh over the side from the swift, aggressive action and fall onto the table, but you pay it little mind as you instead glare into the dark, reflective surfaces of your matesprit’s stupid shades.

Dave rolls his eyes, at least you think he does-- fuck, it’s hard to tell with those damn shades in the way-- and proceeds to lift his arms over the table and drop his hands flat on the surface. He slides his hands, and himself, forward to lean over the wood a bit.

You catch on to what he’s doing almost immediately and glare harder.

“Dave, don’t you fucking dare.” You hiss. One pale eyebrow raises over his shades as the human across from you goes still. He lifts a hand and pushes his shades up into his hair, and you know exactly why and you seethe quietly. You want to get up and walk away, but doing that would break the intense staredown you’re now locked in and you are not going to let him get the better of you here. No. Fuck no. You’re standing by this and not budging.

Keeping his bright red eyes on your matching ones, Dave slowly, ever so slowly, leans forward a little more and crosses his arms before dropping his head onto them. You growl, but it’s half-hearted because you know this always works, and he knows it too, the asshole. He tips his head in a way that when he looks up at you it’s like looking into the eyes of a small, pleading child who just really wants something. Meaning it chisels away at your harsh shell.

And then he speaks. “But baaaaabe!” he absolutely whines. That’s a thing he does. And you can feel yourself caving already. “Come on, sweetcheeks,” he goes on. Fuck, but he knows what those cute little pet-names do to you. “Buttercup, it’s only for March break! And, babydoll, you know I haven’t seen John in, like, three years, since before you and I started dating.”

You seriously have to resist the urge to bite your lip and give in to him.

“And have that fucking moron in our home for seven whole days? Yeah, I’d rather jump off a bridge,” you retort, pulling your arms to your chest and crossing them. “He’s such a tool, Dave. How the Hell can you stand him?”

“What?” Dave gasps, feigning shock. “John’s not a tool, dollface! I swear, if you’d just actually sit down and talk to the dude I think you’d find he’s awesome!” He sits up, pushes his chair out, and rises to his feet.

You think for one beautiful moment that he’s done arguing, but you are very quickly proven so, so wrong when Dave slides around the side of the table towards you like a sly fox. Oh no. Shit. He’s like a lioness on the prowl, and here you thought he was going to leave it be. How stupid actually are you? This is Dave Strider and he literally always gets what he wants because you spoil the shit out of him.

Your eyes follow your matesprit until he walks around to stand behind you, where he leans over your chair and drapes his arms over your shoulders, smushing his cheek to yours. It would be annoying if it wasn’t also so adorable.

Dave always makes a very dramatic show about convincing you to give him what he wants. You’ve had a few people express concern that he’s manipulating you, but you just laugh at that. What they don’t see is how Dave knows your boundaries and respects them. He has always backed down if you actually needed him to, he knows when it’s gone too far or when you’re seriously uncomfortable with something. The actual process of convincing you to give in is more like a game to him, to see how long it takes to shatter your maybe not-so-rational rejection of whatever idea you’re not on board with.

It happens a lot, honestly, where you talk or react before you actually really think things through. Dave knows that, and that’s why he makes a point of teasing you about it and playing with you. It’s all light-hearted and fun, even if to people who don’t know you it can seem really off-putting.

Besides, Dave tends to hold you in the middle of the night and ask you over and over if you’re okay, that he didn’t actually upset you, right? That you don’t hate him, right? It’s precious and makes you feel so ridiculously loved. The fact that he cares about you is undeniable, and you know he would never, ever, intentionally hurt you.

Your matesprit practically nuzzles you, disrupting your thoughts.

“Come on, pumpkin. Don’t make me really beg,” Dave says in a whisper that makes you shiver. It’s not so much his words, or the fact that you actually really love it when he begs for anything, but just the fact that he practically breathed the words like a promise. You clench your teeth together, not trusting yourself to speak without your voice cracking.

You feel the smug grin spread across Dave’s face. “You’re silent. Is that a yes?” His hands, which have been hanging loosely in front of you from the way he has his arms over your shoulders, suddenly move and he slides them down your sides, being an absolute tease and stopping just above your grub scars like an asshole. Your matesprit shifts and when he speaks, he’s breathing right in your ear. “Don’t say anything if that’s a yes.”

That’s it, you cave.

You don’t say a word.

Not only have you now basically been seduced into having John, who you honestly can’t fucking stand, visit for an entire week, but you really want to just grab your matesprit and haul him off to the bedroom. Douchebag. Your matesprit is a douchebag.

But you love him and, in all honesty, you’re not actually mad. Dave knows you well enough to know that your immediate reaction to his request would have been a ‘no’ no matter what. He knew that you would overreact and he knows that you can be stubborn for the stupidest of reasons.

Giving up on being angry at all, you suddenly twist in your chair and grab your matesprit by the chin, planting a kiss on his lips. “You dick,” you mutter when you pull back just enough to speak, trying to sound cross even though you’re really not.

Dave laughs, moving around the chair and sliding into your lap. “Yep,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and leaning close enough that your chests are pressed together. He’s so sturdy against you and it surprises you every time. Humans have always seemed so weak and fragile, but Dave is ripped. “That’s me. King of dicks, dicking it up over here.”

You hurriedly raise your hand to cover his mouth. “Oh my God, shut up,” you demand with a groan. “You’re going to give me a fucking aneurysm. Do you want that, Dave?” Dave only gives you a look that you like to call his ‘bitch please’ look. It’s a look he gives you whenever he knows you’re just complaining because it’s what you do. He grabs your wrist to pull your hand away.

“Oh please,” he says, tone light and teasing as he smirks at you and winks. “You love it when I never shut up.”

He’s not wrong, but you’re not about to admit that to him. So, instead, you give him a half-hearted glare that he responds to only with the sweetest of smiles. He leans into you and you suddenly find yourself locked in another kiss.

It’s warm and passionate and for a moment you forget what it was that he’d even been trying to get out of you as your arms come up to wrap around his neck, claws lightly scratching as his scalp as they tangle in his light, fine hair.

His hands move from your shoulders, ghosting down your arms in a way that makes your skin feel like it’s being licked by tiny wisps of fire. You know that both of you will wind up in bed before long, because not only has he gotten you rather worked up but Dave always gets really handsy when he’s in the mood. Seriously, he literally can’t ever seem to find a place to put his fucking hands that’s good enough for him when he gets like this.

Before all of this goes anywhere, though, you need to get the last word in. You absolutely have to. So you break the kiss that was just starting to get heated-- ha, take that, Dave!-- and lean back in your chair, slightly out of breath and face burning. You probably look like an idiot, staring at him with eyes that are no doubt blown, with a flushed face, with lips slightly parted.

“You better fucking love me for this.” You manage to say, trying to come across as irritated even though you know your voice is betraying you with how strained it is. You can’t help it since now all you can think about is how you want your matesprit to be all over you.

He laughs, breathless, and you think not for the first time how it’s such a beautiful sound. Damn it, literally everything Dave does is beautiful to you. He’s such a wonderful being.

“Babe, I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

And that’s a promise.

Dave convinces you to come with him to the airport to pick up John. Well, ‘convince’ isn’t so much the right word as ‘bribe’ is. The deal was that if he took you out to dinner, you had to go with him afterwards to pick up his idiot friend.

You made him promise he wouldn’t consider pizza dinner, and he gave you this look of feigned hurt because he ‘can’t believe you would think so little of me. Ouch, Karkat, ouch, my pride. It is bruised. Kiss it better.’

You actually did turn into a complete moron for about a minute, long enough for you to say ‘wow, I am terrible, Dave. Literally the worst. I am so sorry’ with so much sarcasm that it might as well be dripping off of your words like an over-absorbed sponge, and you absolutely did not lean over and kiss his chest over where his heart is. No. You did not do that.

Which brings the two of you to where you are, sitting in Dave’s ridiculously fancy car as he drives to the secret place he’s taking you out to dinner. You’re actually in a really good mood despite the impending doom that is having to meet John Fucking Idiot Egbert in the flesh. But you’re not thinking about that. Rather, you’re thinking about the fact that you have single-handedly got the best God damn matesprit in the world.

You’re in college, working towards degree in literature, so as such you’re not working and therefore not bringing in any form of income. Dave works full-time as a DJ, a well-known one at that, so he supports the both of you. You sometimes feel guilty about that but every time your matesprit just assures you that he really doesn’t care because he ‘brings in so much dough it’s crazy’.

Well, he is really popular at the clubs you sometimes go to just to show that you support him. Besides, he’s really good at what he does. Like, really fucking good. No wonder everyone loves him. Yet you were the one special enough to capture him.

All these thoughts in mind, you tear your gaze from where it had been focused out the passenger window, watching the bright lights from street signs and store-fronts as they passed by, instead turning to look at Dave.

You study him. He’s humming in time with the song that’s playing quietly on the radio, some dumb thing that’s yelling about cake and oceans, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel with the beat.

It’s dark out at this hour, and in the dim lighting from the dashboard you think that Dave looks almost mystical. It lights up his face just enough that you can see the splash of freckles across his nose and cheeks, his glinting red eyes dutifully glued to the road.

He’s wearing what you think is probably your favorite outfit of his, this bright red tux with a little record symbol on it. It fits him so perfectly-- and you’re pretty sure he had it custom-tailored for him when he ordered it-- and hugs his body in all the right ways.

Dave is a truly beautiful creature.

Your heart is practically in your throat because you’re just that much of a sap, and you can’t stop yourself from reaching over to rest a hand on his thigh. His head turns to you and he flashes you a smile, all perfectly white teeth and soft lips. It doesn’t last long, though, because he needs to keep an eye on the road.

“Excited?” he asks.

“Shut up,” you huff, but then, softer, “you know I am.”

“It’s been a while since we actually had the chance to go out and have dinner like the cliche young couple in love that we are, hasn’t it?” he comments, and he sounds wistful. You roll your eyes and squeeze his leg, wanting him to know that it’s okay.

“You’ve been busy with work and I’ve had a lot of college shit to deal with,” you remind him and shrug for good measure. “But I get March Break off, so even when John’s here you better pay attention to me. Don’t starve me, Dave.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, love.” Dave laughs, mock-saluting you.

You look up when, seconds later, the car finally pulls into a parking lot. You peer out the window up at the restaurant and your eyes immediately go wide at the sheer size of the place. “Holy shit!” you exclaim as he pulls into a parking spot--a reserved parking spot for fuck’s sake. “Dave, my God, this place is going to cost you a fortune! I can’t let you pay that kind of money!”

Your matesprit turns off the car and pulls the keys out of the ignition. He twirls them around in his hand, flips his shades down over his eyes since he’s totally that douchebag who wears sunglasses at night, and then leans over to pull you into a kiss that actually rather effectively calms you.

“Relax, babe,” he says when he pulls away, smiling warmly. “I pulled in a lot of cash on my last gig. I was saving it to find the best time to treat you, so trust me, we’re making this happen.”

You have half a mind to argue with him, but your thudding heart quickly throws that idea out the window. You lurch your arms out and hug him. “Fucking Hell, you’re the best and I don’t deserve you,” you say quietly into his ear, honestly meaning it, before gently kissing his cheek. Dave pats your back and chuckles.

“Please, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you,” he returns with, and when he pulls away you can feel that it’s reluctant; you’d have loved to sit there embracing him for the rest of forever, so you can understand.

He reaches and opens his door. “Come on. I’ve got us reserved for eight, and it’s already eight-ten. It’s cool to be fashionably late, but there’s a fine line between that and just being that douchebag who arrives too late to the party.”

You don’t argue with him as you get out and come to his side. He takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, and the two of you head inside. It’s an incredibly warm atmosphere that greets you.

A dark red carpet with a swirling gold design covers the floor, matching the large, round tables with their silky-looking maroon tablecloths. Big, leafy plants are everywhere, and there’s vines growing in so many places that it’s hard to tell where one plant ends and another begins. You’re pretty sure your favorite aspect, though, is the soft classical music being played live on a stage at the back of the large open room.

For an expensive place, there are quite a few people here dining, and you’re suddenly relieved that Dave had you wear something fancy for the occasion, even if that means you’re going to be picking up John in a fucking tux.

A waitress quickly comes along, Dave informs her you’re here for a reservation, and she gives the two of you a smile before she leads you to a table.

The chairs, you quickly find out, are unbelievably comfortable. You spend a good five minutes just fidgeting, testing the way the cushion feels under you, only stopping when the same waitress from before approaches to hand you menus and to ask if you would like a drink.

You don’t even get to order, because Dave does it for you.

“I’ll have the Santa Maria tri-tip steak with a side caesar salad, a basket of rolls, and a glass of iced tea.” Dave says, not even glancing at the menu. You raise a brow at him, wondering if he’s been here before. You open your mouth to protest that you need to look at the menu, but Dave just keeps talking.

“And my wonderful boyfriend here will have the smoked maple soy-glazed salmon with a garden salad and your best red wine.”

For all of five seconds you’re tempted to snap that you can speak for yourself, but then you realize how incredibly romantic it is that Dave knows you that well that he knew you would go right for the salmon-- seriously, you fucking love salmon--, that you would prefer a garden salad over a caesar salad, and he’s even getting you wine.

God, but he spoils you.

When the waitress smiles, tells you it shouldn’t be long, and disappears, you look at Dave, leaning over the table to rest your elbow on it and your chin in your palm. “Have you been here before?” you ask, because he simply has to have to have been here before to know what’s on the menu without taking even a single peek at it.

“Nope.” Dave answers you with a sly grin, the kind that tells you he’s being a cheeky bastard. He lifts a hand a moment later, scratching idly at his chin and suddenly looking sheepish as he abandons his cockiness. “I, uh … checked out their menu on their website.”

You snort out a laugh, amused because that’s just the type of thing your matesprit would do. “You absolute fucking sap,” you tease him, to which he just nods enthusiastically.

“So sappy.” He readily agrees.

“The sappiest.” You shoot back.

“Might as well be a fuckin’ tree.”

“Careful, you’re getting your gooey lifeblood everywhere.”

“Aww, but Karkat, babe, you know that’s how I like it,” he says in this most serious, deadpan voice. “I’ve gotta make like a tree and just leaf my sap all over you.”

Both of you stop and stare at each other. Dave smiles in a way that’s just so innocent that you giggle, fucking giggle, and then he starts to laugh, which makes you laugh. Some people give you weird looks but you don’t even care.

You’ve single-handedly got the best fucking matesprit in the world.

By the time you actually leave, you’re pleasantly buzzed. Dave, being the absolutely great, magnificent creature he is, had the waitress leave the bottle of wine she brought, meaning you had free access to the thing throughout the entirety of dinner. You didn’t actually drink that much, but human alcohol tends to hit trolls a lot faster than it does for them.

You’re by no means drunk, but you’re feeling warm and fuzzy and you think that it’ll probably-- hopefully-- be easy to meet John like this. You’re probably breaking some kind of friendship code by being a little intoxicated when meeting someone for the first time, but fuck that. This is John and you don’t care about leaving a good impression in the first place.

Dave teases you about it, though, when you practically curl up in the passenger seat of the car and dissolve into a mess of quiet purrs. Everything feels pretty damn great, you think, and not even Dave telling you you ‘look like the cat who got the cream’ is enough to bother you.

The drive to the airport is quiet, the air in the car content, and by the time you get there you’re dozing off a bit. You actually do fall asleep for maybe five minutes and you’re roused by your matesprit gently shaking your shoulder.

“‘Kat, wake up, honeybun,” he says softly, but you don’t actually open your eyes until he softly kisses your cheek. You look at him, groggy, and sit up properly with a lazy stretch.

“We’re here?” you mutter sleepily, but one glance out at the obnoxiously bright parking lot answers that question for you.

Dave chuckles. “Yep. And John’s flight is supposed to land in about fifteen minutes,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening his door. “C’mon. We’ve gotta be there to greet him.”

You don’t have it in you to complain as you follow after him. Dave locks the doors and drapes his arm over your shoulders when you step up to his side. Any other time you would protest, but right now you still feel so great and Dave’s warm and he smells good and he’s very, very sturdy against you.

God, you love him so much.

The two of you wander into the airport and to the arrival area. It’s about ten-thirty at night now, so the place is pretty quiet and empty, leaving lots of seats for the two of you to choose from.

You end up deciding where the two of you sit, which happens to be right by the doors, and Dave lets you lean against his side. Ugh, why do you have to be so cuddly when you’re a little on the inebriated side? At least your matesprit doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. In fact, in the ten minutes that the two of you sit there waiting for the plane to arrive, he dips his head several times to kiss the top of your head.

He seriously spoils you, holy shit.

The plane eventually lands, and Dave takes his arm from around your shoulders. You scowl and grumble out a protest, but you know that he probably wants to seem cool in front of John. It’s literally his thing. Dave always has to be cool and ironic, and being all sappy and cuddly with your matesprit is not exactly cool or ironic.

So you lean back in your chair and cross your arms, eyes on the doors as the first of the passengers trickle in. You don’t actually know what John looks like, so you won’t be able to spot him in a crowd. The only information you have about him is that he’s a dork with buck teeth and nerdy glasses.

Eventually Dave rises to his feet, striding confidently over towards the doors. You look at the newest arrivals, and your eyes are immediately drawn to who you think might be John. He’s got pale skin that’s almost white compared to Dave’s, dark hair, and these expressive blue eyes that you hate yourself for describing as adorable.

John looks excited, and when he spots Dave he practically bounces forward towards him. Dave raises a fist and the two of them fistbump. Your matesprit is grinning like an idiot but you think it’s absolutely precious.

And this is the moment where you have to summon up all your nerve and composure because Dave’s turned back towards you and is walking back over with John on his heels. Okay, Karkat, you can do this. Just don’t say something stupid. Act cool. Try and be like Dave, maybe?

“... and he can be pretty prickly, but man he’s harmless,” Dave is saying, and you know he’s talking about you. Asshole, making you sound pathetic. You give him a glare, about to comment that you’re ‘plenty dangerous, thank you’, but you don’t get the chance as John talks first.

“Hi, Karkat!” he exclaims in this enthusiastic voice that should be illegal for this hour. Actually, it should be illegal every hour. You’re immediately reminded why you hate him so much and you groan and roll your eyes.

“Egbert,” you force out, doing your best not to growl.

“Hehe, wow, you’re exactly what I thought you’d be like,” John comments, giving you this big, goofy smile.

“And you’re exactly what I thought you’d be like,” you retort flatly. “Right down to the idiocy.” It’s a sincere insult, but John doesn’t take it to heart at all. Does he take anything to heart? Instead, he laughs. Dave chuckles in amusement as well, but you know him well enough to hear the hint of nervousness behind it. He’s afraid you’re going to get into a fight, but you’re really trying your best here. You don’t want to disappoint him.

“Yeah, man. That’s my Kitkat for you,” Dave says with a shrug. “Thorny, but he’s really just a huge kitten underneath.”

“Wow, thanks, Dave. I feel so great being called a kitten,” you hiss, giving him a glare that you only half mean. You love it when he calls you things like that, but, damn it, John is right there.

“Anything for you, babe.”

John lets out a long ‘awww’, and you kind of want to punch him. “You guys are so cute, especially in those suits!” he exclaims.

“What? Dude, did you just call me, single-handedly the coolest guy in the room, cute? I’m insulted, John. My man pride is wounded. It’s fuckin’ D-Day up in this joint, apparently, and you’ve got them guns of steel.”

You go quiet as John punches Dave’s shoulder playfully, trying to fade into the background as the two of them talk. It’s only been about five minutes in this guy’s presence and already you want to crawl under a rock for the rest of the week. Ugh.

You sort of just follow the two of them around like a third wheel while John grabs his luggage, a single massive suitcase-- like what the fuck, who even has a suitcase that big?-- and you continue to follow them while the three of you head back out into the parking lot.

By this point, the buzz you felt earlier is starting to wear off and you reeeeeally don’t want it to. Thank God you got to take that bottle of wine from the restaurant, and thank God it’s just sitting in the car.

Is it bad that you have to be not entirely yourself in order to deal with John? Eh, probably. But it’s not that bad since you’re not even drunk, right? Oh well. When you get to the car, you are absolutely prepared to fight for the right to the front seat, but apparently John has some manners and he doesn’t argue when you open the passenger door without hesitation and slide in.

John gets in in the back, Dave takes the driver’s seat, and the three of you begin the forty-five minutes drive back home. You don’t actually touch the wine, despite John’s inability to shut up because he just has so much to tell Dave, until Dave declares that he needs to show his best bro some of his work.

At that point, you check the fuck out and grab the wine.

By the time you get home, because Dave takes a detour to a 24-hour McDonalds to buy John a super late dinner, you’re maybe a little more on the drunk side, you’re tired, and you really just want to curl up in bed, throw on a movie, and have Dave pet you like the spoiled little kitten you earlier denied you are.

Fortunately, John’s tired too so he quickly retires to the spare bedroom. It used to be yours when you first moved in a few months after you and Dave became matesprits, and it was only about a year ago that you stopped really having your own room and just moved into Dave’s permanently. After that, your old room just became a spare bedroom.

You did try and tell Dave that you don’t need the extra room, that you could probably move in to a smaller apartment and save him money, but he told you that it was ‘super ironic’ to have a room that doesn’t even get used. Therefore, you stayed and the old room just collected dust.

Once John shuts the door to his temporary room, Dave turns to you and lets out a deep breath akin to a sigh. “You holding up okay, dollface?”

“Mmm,” you reply, too tired to really formulate a decent response. Instead, you lean over against him, for once glad that you’re at least a foot shorter than him because it allows you to tuck yourself right up against his chest and put your head under his chin. “Fine. Peachy. Awesome,” you mutter.

His breathless laugh drags a little smile out of you, which you hide against his neck. Dave doesn’t say anything, just wrapping his arms around you and walking with you to the room you share with him. He doesn’t even turn on the light, giving you a gentle shove towards the bed when he lets go of you.

You don’t protest, tugging your shirt over your head while you walk over, navigating easily in the dark. Trolls are by far the superior race here. Absolutely. You practically fall onto the bed after ditching the rest of your clothing, because you admittedly love to sleep with as much of your body touching your matesprit as possible, and you curl up somewhat on your side.

Burying your face in one of the many pillows on the bed, you smile like a doofus because it smells good, the perfect mix of you and Dave. The room lights up somewhat behind you as Dave turns on the wall-mounted TV, pops in a random movie since he knows how well it help you sleep with something on in the background, and finally joins you in the bed after stripping down to boxers.

He grabs the big, black duvet you’d neglected and drapes it over the both of you before settling down beside you. You go to snuggle up to him but you don’t get a chance because he slides one arm under your head, shifting you so that you’re lying half on top of him, and okay, yes, Dave is by far the best pillow. You rest your head just above his heart, listening to the beat of it. It’s strong and constant, just like how he’s a constant in your life.

You don’t know what you would do without him.

“Hey,” Dave says after a few minutes, just when you’re starting to doze off. You mumble a small ‘what’ at him, too out of it for much more. His chin lightly touches your forehead in what you think is probably his attempt at an affectionate nuzzle-- it’s always so funny when humans try to do it. “You did good tonight,” he says, voice soft and quiet and full of praise, the way it only gets when he’s alone with you in the middle of the night.

You smile a bit. “Tried m’best,” You whisper back at him, hating how tiredness more than the alcohol slurs your words. Not putting much thought to it, not worrying about being a huge fucking sap, you tip your head up so your lips graze his cheek. “Love you.”

Dave laughs warmly, playful and loving and cool in a way only he can pull off, a way that’s unique to Dave Strider. “Love you too, Karkat,” he offers, his hand resting against your back and rubbing in small, lazy circles that effectively help lull you to sleep.

You wake up alone sometime late in the morning. For a moment you’re angry about it, since Dave very rarely gets up before you do and usually he’ll just laze in bed like a vegetable and cuddle with you, but then with a jolt you remember that your apartment’s got another occupant for the week.

Right.

Ugh …

It’s just as you’re thinking about John that you hear laughter coming from the living room. Part of you wants to curl up and refuse to get out of bed for the rest of the week, but you know that Dave will be in eventually to drag your sorry ass out in order to socialize regardless.

You hate socializing.

Reluctantly, you throw back the covers, slide out of bed, and throw on some loose, baggy clothing-- screw looking good. You can be careless for a day. When you leave the bedroom, you’re greeted to the sight of Dave and John sitting together on the couch, playing some video game. They look really into it, but Dave twists as he hears you, flashing you a grin and waving.

Okay. Fuck, how can you even pretend to be mildly irritated when your matesprit is so happy?

“Morning, Kitkat,” Dave says, completely ignoring that John is now beating him in their game. At the mention of you, John lowers his controller and turns to look at you, smiling a big, goofy smile.

You glower at John, wave at Dave, and turn to go about the morning routine. Actually talking can wait until you’ve at least brushed your teeth.

You stall, taking as long as you can to brush your teeth, pretend to brush your hair-- ha, when do you ever actually brush your hair?-- and you even wash your face. Anything to drag out the minutes so you don’t have to deal with John’s almost cavity-inducing enthusiasm.

But eventually twenty minutes has gone by and you have nothing left to stall with, so you reluctantly leave the bathroom and head over to join the two on the couch.

You sit on the opposite side of Dave as John. Neither of them seem to take notice of how you do so purposely, John too into the game and Dave more interested in learning over against you and bumping shoulders affectionately.

God fuck, he’s so cute and it makes it hard to fake irritation at the world.

“Damn it, Dave!” John cries after a few minutes, shattering the pleasant silence that had descended around the three of you. “You’re cheating!”

“Who? Me?” Dave gives him an incredulous look behind his shades. Can John even read those looks? You know he and Dave have been best friends for forever, but can John read him like you can? “I would never do that to you, John.” His tone is so fake-innocent that John just sticks his tongue out at him.

“And here I thought we were bros!” John exclaims all dramatically. Does your eye twitch? It probably does.

“Shit. John, have I not been making my bro-love for you obvious enough? Damn it, what do you want from me? Flowers and a candlelit dinner?”

“That would be nice, yeah!” John lets out a fake sob that actually just trails off into a snort of laughter.

You roll your eyes at their theatrics, placing a hand on your matesprit’s arm to grab his attention.

“As much as I hate to break apart this absolutely vomit-inducing moment,” you say as the coolkid turns to you, “what are we having for breakfast?”

John raises a brow immediately. “Breakfast? Karkat, it’s one in the afternoon!”

Shit. You really probably should have checked the time beforehand. Now you just look like an absolute moron. Ugh. Great.

You glare at him anyway. “What? Are you saying I can’t have pancakes at one PM? Fuck you, food police!” You catch Dave’s look of ‘nice save, dude’ out of the corner of your eye but don’t acknowledge it.

John tips his head, looking thoughtful. “Well, I guess you are an adult and you can do whatever you want.”

“Truth,” Dave agrees before you can think of a clever retort. “But Karkat’s actually anal about routine. Tried to convince him to spare me and have cereal for dinner one night, slept on the couch for a week.”

John laughs while you feel your ears go red. Damn it, Dave is purposely trying to fuck your shit up and embarrass you, isn’t he? Either that or he’s trying really fucking hard to make you and John become friends.

Which won’t happen. Nope. Never.

You punch your matesprit’s shoulder a little harder than you actually mean to, and he rubs at it but doesn’t complain. He’s used to you sometimes forgetting he’s so soft and weak. Damn humans. “Fuck you. Cereal for dinner is an abomination! And it wasn’t even an hour, you blithering asshole!”

Dave smiles warmly at the memory you invoked, turning to John. “It was hella cute, man,” he says. You immediately try to cover his mouth before he can tell this really embarrassing story, but he holds you at bay with one outstretched arm. “He locked me out of our room, and I mean I could have just stolen the guest bed but I’m a man and a man accepts his punishments with dignity.”

“Dave!” you protest, trying to shut him up. Oh God, your face is burning. You don’t want John to think of you as a lovey-dovey doofus even if he probably already knows you are. Dave ignores you and keeps going.

“So I laid down on the couch, not even a blanket or a pillow to comfort my wounded pride.”

The look Dave gives you stops your struggling in its tracks. He … really does look incredibly fond of this story. Part of your rebellious side shrivels up and dies immediately because, fuck, you love him and if he wants to brag about you then who are you to stop him?

You resign yourself to the oncoming awkwardness and cross your arms, leaning back in an attempt to just hide behind your matesprit.

“And like I actually probably could have fallen asleep, but after an hour I hear the door open and soft footsteps cross the room.” Dave chuckles. “So I look up and find him hanging over me, looking all precious with our old gray and white blanket all wrapped around him and this pitiful little pout on his face. And he doesn’t say a word and just curls up on the couch with me.”

The little sound John makes is, dare you say it, rather endearing. Since when can the idiot even do anything that doesn’t make him seem like a total brain-dead dullard? “Aww, my gosh! That’s really sweet!” he exclaims, sounding rather awed.

Dave turns enough to drape an arm over your shoulders, but you’re still embarrassed and you pointedly do not look at either of them.

“Oh!” John exclaims, and you hope he’s about to change the topic. “I forgot! Jade wanted me to give you this picture of us, Dave!” He gets up and runs to his room, returning in under a minute and holding out a photo to Dave.

You tilt your head to peer at the picture when Dave takes it. It’s actually a really nice shot of John and a girl you guess is probably Jade, the two of them laughing. At their feet is an old, massive white dog.

“Holy shit,” Dave breathes, staring at the picture almost reverently. “Jade hasn't changed a bit, has she?”

“Nope!” John laughs. “She’s still the same silly girl who loves robots and has the absolute worst sleep schedule.” His expression grows a bit sombre then, and you can’t help but think that it just looks so wrong on him.

“Bec’s death hit her hard, though.”

“What? Bec died?” Dave’s head whips up. “When?”

“Just over Christmas,” John tells him, shaking his head and looking horribly sad. “He was such a good dog, and to Jade he was practically more of a parent than anything.”

You … feel bad for Jade. You knew very little of her before this, and you still don’t know much now, but you knew from what Dave told you that her dog meant everything to her. You glance at your matesprit.

Dave’s lips are a flat line. “Shit, no wonder she kind of just disappeared,” he mutters. “How’d he die?”

“It was peaceful, at least,” John says softly. “Died in his sleep.”

With a shake of his head, the coolkid gets up. “That really sucks, man.” His voice is quiet, the way it gets when he’s not sure how to be comforting, and he pats his friend on the shoulder before walking across to your bedroom. You assume he’s putting the picture somewhere it won’t get wrecked, which is fine, but he’s also leaving you alone with John. Which is not fine.

You don’t look at him, but you can feel him looking at you.

And then he speaks.

“So, um, how’ve you been, Karkat? I haven’t talked to you in ages.”

You don’t even know why he tries to talk to you online. For the most part, all the two of you do is bicker like an old married couple. Dave thinks it’s hilarious, but you don’t share that sentiment at all. You and John are more like friends-enemies-- frenemies?-- and you think you’re probably okay with that? Maybe? Yeah. Definitely.

You shrug in response to him. “Can’t complain,” you reply.

“How’s your classes going?”

Is he seriously trying to have a normal conversation with you? You actually look at him, raising a brow in surprise. “Uh … Fine?” You didn’t mean it to sound like a question. Thinking back, you suppose he’s actually asked you things like that before, online, but you always assumed he was being a prick about it. Hearing it out loud really puts perspective to things, doesn’t it?

John smiles. For the first time since meeting him it doesn’t feel like a means of annoying you.

“Great!” He claps his hands together. “Hey, so, you said you were hungry, right? Well, I actually really want to get out and see Texas and figure out why Dave is so unironically in love with the place, so why don’t we go out for lunch?”

You open your mouth to reply before actually thinking of a response, sit there like an idiot for a moment looking like you’re trying to catch flies, but then fortunately Dave rescues you by returning. “Sounds like a plan, dude,” he says, evidently hearing, and gives a thumbs up. “You in, ‘Kat?”

Honestly, you don’t know what you want to do. You’re about to maybe just shrug and say ‘sure, why not’, but the idea of going out and being a third wheel again hits you like a brick and you almost wince. That does not sound like a good plan. At all.

So you shake your head. “You two go,” you say dismissively. “Dave’s probably got a million more embarrassing stories to share about me that I’d rather just not hear, and knowing him he’ll drag you to all the worst places that he claims to love because it’s ironic.”

John … actually looks a little disappointed?

What?

Dave, however, just chuckles. “You antisocial bag of dicks,” he accuses, but he says it affectionately to indicate he’s not actually upset about you not wanting to tag along.

Your reply is deadpan. “That’s me.”

Your matesprit rolls his eyes, walks over, pulls you into a quick kiss that effectively makes you feel light and fluttery, then ruffles your hair and shoves you. “Fine. Have a great boring afternoon without us. May your world be fifty shades of gray.”

“Try a hundred.” You counter, but you grin at him because you caught on to his innuendo.

He waves, coaxes John off the couch, and the two of them practically bounce out. You’re left alone in the living room, the apartment falling into silence, and even though you’re actually really hungry and should make something to eat, you end up just sitting on the couch and thinking.

Maybe you’ve been reading John wrong all these years? For some reason he always came across as antagonistic online, but that’s not at all what he’s been like since he arrived yesterday. He’s actually been very bright and optimistic, and it’s making it hard to dislike him. Plus, on top of that, Dave adores him and you always subconsciously try really hard to like the things and people your matesprit likes.

It doesn’t help that John is actually really adorable? That’s a thing you think, and that’s a thing that you’re not sure how to feel about. He’s like a polar opposite of Dave in every way, physically with really pale skin, hair as black as yours, these big, expressive blue eyes, and emotionally by being genuine and enthusiastic and open … How the fuck can someone so very different than Dave actually be incredibly endearing?

By the time it gets dark, the two of them still haven’t returned. It’s been well over six hours, the clock on the wall indicating that it’s rapidly approaching eight at night. You aren’t worried about their whereabouts, fuck no, because Dave can take care of himself and John, but you are admittedly starting to get antsy.

That tends to happen when you’re not in your matesprit’s presence for an extended period of time. It used to be worse, back when you first started going to college and Dave started to get a lot of work with his whole DJ business. Back then you used to fidget in class and pace when you were home alone.

It eventually blew up and you had a particularly bad fight with Dave that dissolved when he yelled at you, asking you ‘what do you want from me?’, and you just burst into tears because you didn’t honestly even know what you wanted. All you knew was that you wanted him.

You’re lucky that by then you both had become masters at dealing with each others’ shit.

It’s hard to keep yourself distracted while you wait for them, but you manage to do so by cooking. You’ve never been a great cook, Hell no, but you’re better than Dave. The only thing he can cook is bacon and instant noodles. When it comes to making meals, it’s you that’s in charge.

You spend your time preparing some fancy spaghetti that you actually don’t have any plans to eat. It’s one of the easier things to cook since literally all you have to do is chop the vegetables and toss them into the sauce and give it about twenty minutes.

It helps you not worry so much when you just drown out the world around you and focus solely on what you’re doing. Is it maybe just a bit paranoid to be so anxious about your matesprit? Probably. But if there’s one thing you know, it’s that humans can do stupid things and sometimes they do it for no reason. Hell, schools get shot up, people get murdered, clubs get raided … all the time. And it’s terrifying.

And they think trolls are the violent ones.

You’re so distracted, staring into space and stirring the spaghetti sauce, that you don’t hear the door open until words reach your ears. “Wow, it smells really good in here!” John. Which means Dave is back and-

You whip around so fast that you accidentally fling sauce onto the counter and floor as the ladle you were using stays with your hand. Dave and John are standing there snickering at you, probably thinking they surprised you, and you curse under your breath at how you probably looked. You turn and drop the ladle into the pot before practically scrambling over and throwing your arms around Dave’s neck.

You growl at him, relieved but also irritated, and you kiss him roughly. It’s just a quick thing, since you’re also hyper aware that John is standing there too, and when you pull back you let him go to punch his shoulder for the second time in one day-- gently this time though. “Asshole.” You hiss, but don’t provide much else in way of explanation.

He gives you a sheepish grin and you know he knows why you’re upset. “Sorry, man. John wanted to see everything, or else I swear we woulda been back sooner.”

“There’s so much to see!” John exclaims in protest. “Last time we saw each other was the first time we actually met, and Dave visited me.” He tells you, then tips his head. “Why are you so upset?”

Your face feels hot. How are you supposed to just outright say that you’re worried about someone shanking your matesprit? By some miracle, Dave answers for you. “Dude’s always worrying about me,” he says with a casual shrug. “Thinks I’m gonna get shot or something. As if drive-by shootings actually even happen.”

“They do and you know it!” you state adamantly and cross your arms. You open your mouth to protest but before you can you find yourself being tugged to Dave’s chest and held in a warm embrace.

“Don’t get your dick in a twist,” he says with a chuckle at his own joke. “We’re perfectly fine. Just walked around the city a bit.” You grumble in response, losing all your drive to be angry at him, and instead you just lean into him. Of course he lets you, and after only a moment he nudges you.

“Anyway, what’s cookin’, babe? Smells great.”

“Spaghetti,” you answer, deciding to let your concerns fade away instead of starting an argument. Extracting yourself from his side, you go over and check the noodles. While you do, John practically hops over to the kitchen table and flops into one of the seats.

“Thank God! I’m starving!” he exclaims dramatically.

“Dude, you just ate like two hours ago!” Dave laughs, but he goes over and sits with him. You roll your eyes at them and take a moment to clean the sauce you flung earlier, then go about straining the noodles while they bicker about how John eats like a horse.

Before long you head over to the table and set plates of spaghetti down before them. John’s good mood is infectious and by the time you join them and hand out forks, you find a small grin twitching at your lips that you immediately try to hide by eating.

You listen as they tell you about their afternoon, about exploring around town and how John wanted to eat just about everything, about how Dave managed to trip and tangle himself in some woman’s purse, about the two of them stopping at a library just so they could find the absolute trashiest novel and dramatically read from it.

“What about you, Karkat?” John asks eventually, just as you’re setting your fork down on your empty plate because you’re a fast eater and you finished first. Huh, and you hadn’t even planned to eat at all. “What did you do while we were gone?”

You shrug in response. “Nothing, really.” And it’s partially the truth and partially because you don’t want to chat all friendly-like with this idiot. He might be kinda precious-- a fact you’re torn between denying until your last breath and admitting just so you don’t need to waste the energy pretending otherwise-- but he’s also still a moron and you don’t need more friends.

Besides, you didn’t do anything interesting. You badgered the shit out of Sollux, trying especially hard to distract him when you found out that he’s neck-deep in coding, until he eventually got so pissed off that he blocked you. You’re not worried since this happens a lot; he’ll unblock you by morning.

You also sat down for about two hours to read, immersing yourself in the The Vampire Diaries series, and then after that it was already 6:30 and you started to worry about Dave and ended up cooking.

A boring day, really.

“Well,” Dave interrupts your thoughts, “judging by the-” he cuts off to grab his phone, scrolling through it quickly, “-thirty-six messages I got from Captor bitching about how you’re ‘the most irritating, obtuse, antagonistic asshole he’s ever met’ and how I need to ‘control my matesprit’, I’m gonna call bullshit on your bullshit.”

You glare at him, feeling your ears heat up, but he just smirks at you and rests his chin on his hand, looking at you over the top of his shades. Oh God, stop fucking looking at me like that! You think, because that’s one of Dave’s most seductive faces.

“Kitkat, boo, were you black-flirting with Mr. Honeybee?”

“Definitely not!” you snap immediately, maybe a little too fast. It wasn’t like that! You were just bored out of your fucking mind and Sollux is such a nerd-- a super talented nerd who needs to fuck right off-- and he’s unbearably fun to poke and prod and- and you’re going to stop that train of thought right there because that’s leaning dangerously close to what pitch romance sounds like. That train is not leaving the station. All the tickets are hereby refunded.

Dave knows you so well, though, because he winks at you and looks at a very confused John, stating ever so bluntly, “‘Kat and Sol have literally been chasing each others’ tails for years, man. Shit’s so sad ‘cause they’re both balls deep in denial about it.”

“There’s nothing to deny!” you protest with a growl. Lies. “And anyway, you’re not okay with sharing me!”

John guffaws, followed quickly by Dave, who at least manages to keep himself somewhat controlled. You glare at them as the blue-eyed wonder says, in fits of giggles, “Dave’s been trying to set you up in your other quadrants for months, Karkat!”

That floors you. What? The fuck? Your eyes turn to your matesprit, shocked and confused and honestly really hopeful. “What?” you say maybe a bit too quietly, as if speaking too loud will break some spell. Are you asleep right now? No, you’re pretty sure you’re awake. “But aren’t you humans possessive of your partners?”

Dave rolls his eyes, an action you only see by the way his head follows ever so slightly. “Yeah, man, a lot of humans are all about monogamy, but I really just don’t give a shit. ‘Sides, I …” he trails off, looking somewhat embarrassed. This is a look you don’t often see on your matesprit. “I know how important your quadrants are to you.”

Your heart bleeds for this asshole. It literally bleeds rivers. No, oceans.

“I’d be the world’s biggest bag of dicks if I was anal enough to keep you all for myself.” Dave clears his throat even though there’s no need. “I mean, cultural tolerance and all that shit, right?”

You stare at him.

You just … stare.

Even after three fucking years, Dave’s still finding ways to surprise you. After three years of trying to come to terms with the fact that you’ll never have any other quadrants filled, suddenly your wonderful, amazing, goddamn angel of a matesprit is telling you he doesn’t mind you having the stability you need from other quadrants.

You want to hug him so tightly that he isn’t able to breathe.

You want to throw yourself across the table and kiss him.

You want to tackle him to the ground and nuzzle him like a fucking cat.

You don’t do any of that, if only to spare John, but you do let out a low keening sound and give your matesprit an impossibly warm, loving look that probably looks absolutely alien on you to John. “I fucking love you,” you practically whisper.

Dave smiles at you, shoulders slumping a bit in what you think might be relief. “Love you too,” he replies smoothly.

John practically squeals in delight.

Day two of John’s visit is a lot calmer.

Honestly, you’ve lost most of your will to be spiteful with him, if only because he keeps doing these little things that you find just so … sweet. God, you need to stop thinking shit like that about him. What’s even wrong with you? You spent the last forever and a day hating him for being a buffoon, and then you meet him in real life and your feelings flip like a switch! Ugh, it’s so unfair.

At least you don’t really act any different around him despite being ‘okay’ with him, though you think Dave’s might be plotting something because he keeps giving you this look, this ‘I’m about to fuck your shit up in the best possible way’ look. You’re not sure how to feel about it, especially since you asked him about it when you woke up and he was just watching you with a silly smirk on his face and he just replied with ‘nothing’s up, dude’.

Nonetheless, day two goes well. You spend most of the day playing video games and talking. John brought a huge album with him that he insisted on all of you sitting down to look through with him, and that killed a good three hours.

You have to admit that John was possibly the most adorable creature when he was young, not that you can compare him to Dave since your matesprit has absolutely zero photos of himself at that age. John’s blue eyes are even blue-er in the photos of him as a child, and you find yourself drawn to them a lot. How the Hell can someone even have eyes like that?

It doesn’t escape your notice that Jade is in a lot of the pictures, and when you ask him about it, he and Dave both explain that John and Jade are cousins. John tells you with a note of warmth to his voice that the two of them grew up together and they were always more like siblings than anything.

You decide you like it when John talks like that, but you pointedly don’t mention it.

At five, the three of you decide to go out for dinner and then catch a movie. John and Dave insist on something super dramatic and action-packed even though you protest that those movies are so dull. Outnumbered, you resign yourself to the fate of watching a terrible movie and instead you purposely drag the both of them along to the most terrible fast food place in Texas.

That plan backfires, however, as John and Dave end up throwing shitty fries at each other and having a blast and effectively getting the three of you kicked out. You glare at them all the way to the theatre, allow Dave to apologize by buying you enough popcorn and candy for days, and settle down to watch some stupid movie you really don’t care to remember the name of.

It’s awful. It sucks.

The only saving grace is that it’s dark enough and John and Dave are so into it that you can spend your time watching them instead. Dave wears his shades even in the darkness of the theatre, not really a surprise, but you still admire him. His skin has an almost eerie sheen to it in this dim lighting, a look that reminds you of the days where the two of you curl up on your bed, turn out the lights, and watch Netflix.

Granted, those times tend to become less about watching How It’s Made and more about How He’s Made. You admit that the strangest, smallest things about your matesprit get to you. Like the way he bites his lip ever so slightly when he’s thinking, or how when he sometimes comes home after a long gig so tired that his eyes can’t open more than halfway. You love him so much it hurts sometimes.

Your head turns to look at John on your other side, and you wonder not for the first time since you sat down why Dave had you sit in the middle. It doesn’t bother you, per say, but you think it’s a little odd. Oh well.

You watch John, noting that he’s so absorbed in the movie-- you think there’s a fight or something going on right now but you don’t care to look-- that he’s leaning forward slightly, nibbling idly with the side of his mouth on a piece of licorice. His skin looks almost ghostly in the dim lighting of the theatre, and he looks … good? Is that the right word?

It’s a strange feeling to think that John’s got your attention like this without even looking at you. It’s even stranger how you almost want to just lean over and bump your shoulder against his, how you want to pat his wrist as if that might wake him from the trance of the movie.

You blink and hurriedly turn your head away before he can notice you staring, and you think to yourself, not for the first time, ‘what the fuck is wrong with me?’

After the movie, the three of you head back home. Dave and John talk about the movie the whole way while you just trail along. Quietly. You know it’s got to be weird that you’re so silent, since you’re known for always having something to say, but you’re a bit lost in your head.

When you get home, John decides he’s going to take a shower, give Jade a call, and then head to bed. He smiles at you and Dave, waves, and then disappears down the hall to slip into the bathroom when Dave assures him that he’ll find everything he needs in there.

You don’t say a word as you turn to head off to your room, though you hear Dave’s footsteps following you. You strip, honestly kind of robotically, and crawl under the covers. Your matesprit sits down beside you, still fully clothed, and suddenly he’s hovering over you in your space.

“What?” you ask him, scowling.

“You’ve been awful quiet tonight, dude,” he says, lifting a hand and resting it on your cheek. “Got something on your mind?”

“No,” you reply, even though in all honesty you have been pretty spacey. What are you supposed to tell him, though? How are you supposed to say ‘yeah, I can’t stop looking at John’? You don’t really think it means anything, or at least it won’t mean anything, but you also don’t really want to talk about all that with Dave.

That’s the kind of thing you’d do with a moirail.

Which you don’t have.

Yet.

Dave raises a brow, taking off his shades with his free hand. Oh, you hate it when he does that. It’s so hard to not tell him things when he looks at you like that, with those bright, deep red eyes that are open books.

“You sure?” he asks.

You roll your eyes at him, grab his wrist and take his hand from your face, kiss his palm, and nod. “I’m fine, Dave. Really.” you assure him, and after a moment he nods back at you.

“M’kay,” he relents, then lays down to stretch out beside you.

You shift a bit so that you’re pressed up against him, head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath and letting it out slow in content. Your matesprit simply wraps an arm lazily around you, staying silent as the two of you lay together.

You’re ready for sleep, but despite telling Dave that you’re okay, you really do have a lot on your mind and you realize that you never did actually talk to Dave about his sudden revelation yesterday. So, despite being groggy and a little out of it, you tip your head a bit so that your nose just barely touches his cheek.

“Hey, Dave?” you say to try and catch his attention.

“Hm? Sup, ‘Kat?” he replies evenly, and oh good he actually sounds awake still. There’d be no point in having this conversation if he was too groggy to really pay attention.

“Do you really not mind if I have my other quadrants filled?” You really hope he hasn’t changed his mind. It isn’t like Dave to be flimsy like that, but you’re so hopeful that it’s made you a bit paranoid.

Dave chuckles a bit. “Nah, man. You do you. I’ll support you no matter what you do. ‘Sides, John wasn’t joking when he said I’ve been trying to set you up with others.” His voice hints at embarrassment of that fact.

You huff and thump one fist gently against his chest. “Asshole. I can court potential quadrantmates just fine on my own.”

He laughs softly, shifting so that he’s on his side and can more properly hold you. You don’t mind the sudden change of positions, especially when it means you can tuck your head right up under his chin. Damn, but he’s so soft and warm.

“Maybe that’s true,” Dave concedes, “but damn dude you’re so in denial about Captor that you might as well be in an entirely different universe.”

“I am not!” you protest, but deep down you know that he’s right and that you may have been subtly pitch-flirting with Sollux for ages. It’s not your fault that your yellowblood friend is so easy to rile up, that he’s so good at everything and you’re always itching to be better than him at something just so he’ll glare at you and act like a child for five seconds by throwing a tantrum, or sticking his tongue out at you. It’s not your fault that he’s unbearably attractive in a way that’s frustrating because he shouldn’t be.

The problem is that Sollux is so oblivious to anything involving social interactions that you just never bothered to actually do anything about your very obvious-- at least to you-- flirting, especially since you were under the assumption that Dave wouldn’t like it if you had your other quadrants filled. But now it’s really an option and … and you’re suddenly thinking that you should tell someone.

You’ve been so preoccupied with John’s sudden arrival at your apartment that you’ve sort of neglected all your other friends. Oops. It’s not your fault, though, right? It’s not your fault that John is a high-maintenance fool who is also proving to be not at all what you thought he’d be like, right?

People really are different in real life.

Dave kisses your forehead suddenly, distracting you, and you realize you had fallen silent and missed what he’d said. “Did you hear me, babe?” he asks in a whisper, no need for anything louder in the dark.

“Yeah, absolutely,” you lie, but then grin a bit against his neck where you bury your face. “But you should say it again anyway.”

“Liar,” Dave huffs in amusement. He gently rubs your back with one hand as he repeats what you had previously missed. “I said that I want you to be happy, no matter what.”

Warmth floods your chest and you don’t even try to hold back the quiet, contented purr that starts up. God, you love being able to lie in bed with your matesprit. He always gets at least ten times more loving and sappy in the middle of the night, when it’s dark and it’s just the two of you in close proximity.

“I already am happy,” you murmur, your face pleasantly warm, “but thanks.”

He doesn’t reply in words, instead chuckling softly and kissing one of your horns.

Silence falls around you, and you lay there with Dave rubbing your back until he falls asleep. When he does, you close your eyes and gently nuzzle his throat. “I love you, Dave,” you breathe, even though he won’t hear it.

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to tell him those three words enough.

The next morning, you and Dave get up and decide to try and make a decent breakfast. Dave makes you head chef and dutifully accepts his orders when you tell him to step away from the stove and make some damn coffee. Seriously, you will lose all faith in his abilities if he can’t even make coffee.

He does just fine, thank God.

By the time you’ve got bacon and eggs on the go, you seem to have effectively summoned John, who wanders out of the spare bedroom and into the kitchen. You look up as you hear his footsteps, and you freeze in the process of flipping the eggs to just stare. He’s got this little pout on his face like someone just told him he couldn’t have a lollipop, and he’s rubbing at his eyes with one hand like a child would.

The surge of pity that slams into you like a monstrous fucking tidal wave takes you by surprise. What the Hell? How can any one person be that God damn pathetic? The urge to go over to him and take his hands from his face and … and … Ugh. No, you will not go over there and coddle John all platonic and pale-like. That is not what you’re going to do.

Your ears feel hot and you hurriedly turn back to the eggs that are going to burn if you don’t flip them. Anything to keep your back to John and keep your eyes off of him. You aggressively swallow the low chittering sound that tries to come up your throat.

Fortunately, no one seems to have noticed your little moment and Dave focuses his attention on his best friend.

“Damn, is this how you always wake up?”

“Huh?” John mumbles. “Oh, uh, yeah, sorry. I don’t wake up easy, but I could smell bacon!” He sounds more awake than he probably is.

You keep your back turned as they have a little scuffle, which you guess is probably Dave trying to mess up his hair or shove his shoulder or something. After a minute, John laughs.

“Dave! Stop it! That’s so not fair!”

“All’s fair in love and war, Egderp!”

John is laughing. “It’s too early for this, you butt!”

“Fine, you pansy.”

You dare to glance back at them in time to see John taking a seat at the kitchen table. He yawns, and as he closes his mouth his eyes land on you. He smiles in a way that’s entirely too warm and friendly.

“Morning, Karkat!” He greets with a little wave.

You blink at him, hurriedly turning your head away to instead focus on getting breakfast served. “Hi,” you reply once you’re not looking at him, and immediately hate yourself for it. What are you, five? ‘Hi’? God, how stupid can you be?

By some miracle, at least, John doesn’t call you out on it.

You bring plates over to the table and take your seat. Your eyes stay glued to your plate, pointedly avoiding looking at John. Fortunately, the atmosphere is laid back and easy and you quickly stop feeling awkward.

“So, what’re we doing today?” John asks after a minute of silence, taking a bite of his bacon.

“Oh, I have plans,” Dave says in a tone that tells you you’re not going to like what he has to say. You narrow your eyes on him, earning a smirk before your matesprit dramatically rolls his eyes behind his shades. “We’re going to the water park.”

You groan at the same time as John gasps.

“Why do you do this to me, Dave?” you complain, dropping your head into one hand. You hate water parks. You hate anything having to do with water that isn’t part of bathing. It’s not that you can’t swim, even though you actually can’t, but rather it’s that you hate the idea of being mostly naked in public settings.

You’re … different. Mutated, and as such you’ve always been uncomfortable with strangers seeing your body. Hell, that’s why you always wear long-sleeved shirts and pants regardless of how hot it is outside.

There’s not really anything seriously deformed about you, but you do have an extremely rare blood color, the smallest horns of literally any trolls ever, and you have gills on your sides that only partially work. They allow you to respirate underwater, but they’re unbelievably sensitive. Salt water stings, chlorine water stings, hell, even city water stings a little bit. Showers are usually a thing you go through quickly, too.

Water is not your friend.

You look up at your matesprit, ready to declare that you will not go within two kilometres of water, but your words die in your throat when you see how damn excited John looks. He doesn’t even seem to notice your hesitation as he grins.

“That sounds awesome!” he exclaims, then looks at you and holy shit he looks so hopeful. “Are you gonna come with us, Karkat?”

You stare at him, then glance at Dave. Your matesprit raises a brow at you in a silent ‘well? Don’t leave us hanging, dude!’ but you feel like there’s more to this than it seems. He’s just got this twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

John is still giving you these huge puppy eyes and … and … oh God, you can’t say no to him, can you? He did seem really disappointed the other day when you didn’t go out with him and Dave to tour the town …

You sigh in defeat. “Fine,” you mutter, to which John exclaims in delight.

Dave knew you wouldn’t say no to John. Somehow, that asshole knew.

Shortly after breakfast, the three of you went to get ready for the day and you find that Dave had already packed you a bag. You have no idea when he did that, since he’s been otherwise preoccupied or with you for days, and you don’t ask.

By eleven, the three of you are out the door and piling into Dave’s car.

You let John have shotgun this time, instead sitting in the middle seat in the back. This is a decision you regret immediately since it leaves you without access to the radio and Dave thinks it’s hilarious to put on the worst station. John finds it funny, at least, and sings along with several of the terrible songs while you contemplate shoving ice picks in each of your ears.

The water park is an hour away, and by the time the three of you arrive, Dave had at least taken pity on you and turned off the radio, giving you some silence before the chaos of the day.

You get out of the car, trying not to scowl up at the big gates. John is suddenly at your side, gently nudging you with his shoulder. “Come on!” he exclaims gleefully, bouncing forward towards the reception booths with a towel over his shoulder.

Dave takes your hand, kissing your cheek, and the two of you follow after your over-enthusiastic friend.

Despite being wary about this outing, John’s mood is infectious and by the time you’ve gotten lockers and stuffed your more important things inside, you’re starting to feel a little more optimistic about the day.

“What should we do first?” John asks, now stripped to just his blue swim trunks.

“I don’t care what you assholes do, but I’m going to go sit down in the sun.” you inform him, crossing your arms over your chest. You think you probably look a bit ridiculous wearing a t-shirt, but you dare anyone to mock you for it. You fucking dare them.

“Aww, you don’t want to go on a slide or something?” the blue-eyed wonder asks, looking all crestfallen. It almost physically pains you to sigh and shake your head.

“Can’t.” You reply and turn to walk away before he asks.

You hear Dave quietly explaining to him as you go to find an unoccupied lawn chair to stretch out on. “Karkat can’t really do water, man. He’s got …”

Part of you feels a bit nauseous at the idea of John knowing how messed up you are, but Dave trusts him, and you trust Dave. So, you think you can trust John too. At least, you hope so. But then, who would he even tell? He’s not the kind of guy for gossip, as far as you know.

Honestly, you don’t consider it much of a loss that you can’t go in the water anyway. You don’t like water much, stinging gills aside, and while it’s probably the most boring thing to Dave, you absolutely do love to sit out in the sun and soak up the warmth.

So you find a chair, lay your towel down on it, sprawl out, and grab a book from the backpack you brought with you.

You get completely absorbed in The Vampire Diaries.

You have no idea how much time passes, but you read through several chapters and then suddenly there’s a shadow over you and you look up, ready to hiss at whoever it is that they’re blocking the sun. Your irritation dies when you see that it’s John, still somewhat dripping wet and with a huge, goofy smile on his face.

“Dave wanted to go on this crazy slide,” he informs you as he moves to sit on the ground next to your chair. “I think he’s crazy! I’d probably scream going down a slide that’s pretty much a ninety degree angle!”

“Oh, that one.” You scoff at him, snorting in amusement. You place your bookmark in between the pages of your book and snap it shut. “Dave loves that one. He tried to get me to go on it once, but I’d rather live, thanks.”

“That’s what I said!” John laughs. He leans over towards you, resting against the side of the chair. “Anyway, he told me to come find you and he’ll meet us with lunch in a bit.”

You nod at him, shoving your book back in your bag and leaning back again. Silence falls around the two of you, but you can’t help but feel like it’s tense and almost electric. Maybe it’s just because John doesn’t do silence, he’s always saying something or laughing with that warm voice of his, but either way it’s almost killing you.

You’re just starting to seriously contemplate asking him about the weather of all fucking things when he suddenly taps your arm. You look at him, to which he gives you this small, shy smile that you think is incredibly fucking adorable.

“So, um … Dave told me about your … y’know.” He says, gesturing at your side as if he’s afraid of saying the word out loud. There’s no one around to hear him say it, but you still find it unbelievably considerate of him to be so vague about something that he thinks might bother you. And it does.

You shrug a bit. “It’s not really a bad thing.” You tell him.

“Do they hurt?” He almost looks … afraid of the idea. You really want to reach over and gently pat his cheek, make him stop looking at you like that.

You don’t do that.

“Not … really?” you answer, shifting awkwardly. You’ve only ever talked to Dave about your deformities, and even then only after almost a year of the two of you being matesprits. He was curious before that, but you were too sensitive and defensive to really explain. He’s such a great guy though, that he let it be and let you come to him about it when you were ready.

You sigh. “It’s more like,” you start, fishing for a good comparison, “when you take a drink of water but accidentally fucking inhale some of it, like an idiot who can’t do a simple task like drinking, and it stings a bit, right? It’s like that. It just aches, kind of.”

Why are you so okay with telling this to someone who, by all rights, you only just met?

“Oh,” John says, letting out a breath in what you think is relief. But he frowns at you. “Don’t you ever want to go swimming, though? Or take a bath?”

“Fuck no!” Your expression twists a bit in distaste. “I hate water as it is, so I don’t really ever want to swim. But a bath? Yeah, sometimes that would be nice.”

The blue-eyed human before you stares at you, then looks down at your shirt, then back up at you. “Um … Can I … see?” He asks. A jolt of fear and defensiveness go through you and you lean away from him immediately, half-choking on a breath. Not a word comes forth, but you think you’re probably looking at him with wide, vulnerable eyes because he hurriedly reaches over and grabs your wrist. Gently.

“No, no!” he exclaims in a hurry, looking really, really fucking guilty and regretful. “It’s okay! You don’t have to! I was just curious!” he goes on, practically babbling. “I mean, haha, I want you to be comfortable and I don’t want to be an ass and make you do something that upsets you and-”

“John,” you interrupt him.

You’re surprised by how soft your voice is. You’re even more surprised that you feel … okay? You don’t feel like if you show him your gills he’ll go running for the hills. You don’t feel like he’s going to mock you or sneer or punch you.

You have quite literally never felt so comfortable around someone in public, not even Dave.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

John’s looking at you warily, worriedly. You tug your hand out of his grip, not that he’s forcing you to keep it there, glance around to make sure you’re mostly alone, then take a deep breath and slowly pull your shirt up a little.

Part of you practically cries out to immediately go on lockdown, to hide your body, to throw on another seven layers, but the other part of you is … hopeful. Hopeful that you haven’t read John wrong, that he’ll accept you for you, mutations and all.

You don’t even dare to breathe.

John eyes are glued to your skin, to the gills on your side. He just stares. Your heart is racing as the silence drags on for far too long. Too long. It’s not good. John probably thinks you’re disgusting, probably thinks you’re a freak. He probably-

His fingers gently, ever so lightly, ghost across your gills. You make a small, unwanted chirp in the back of your throat, going rigid. His touch feels like ice cubes wrapped in the finest silk, soft but cool against your sensitive gills. “This is so cool,” John says quietly, almost reverently, and you just blink at him.

Cool.

He thinks your gills are cool.

Cool.

You hardly even notice it when you let out a soft sound somewhere between a keen and a whine. A feeling sweet like honey warms you to the bone, to the very core, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so fucking pale for anyone-- and you’ve been pale for a lot of people! Hell, you might as well be Karkat Pale-For-Everyone Vantas!

John takes his hand back and you pull your shirt down again, giving him a tiny smile. He smiles back at you and everything is just good and content and you kind of really want to hug him and-

“Sup, dudes? I brought pizza.”

Dave’s voice right next to you makes you jump a bit. You look up at him, the peaceful moment shattered, and glare. “Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?” you demand, acting as if nothing big just happened, crossing your arms.

Your matesprit chuckles and hands the box of pizza he has to John, who immediately sits back to open it. Instead of a verbal apology, Dave just leans down and kisses you, effectively shutting you up and making you forgive him.

“Enjoying the sun, sweetcheeks?” he asks as he sits on the chair next to you. Before you answer, he reaches across you and grabs the pizza box from John, deciding that your lap is a perfect temporary table that all of you can reach.

“Yeah,” you answer as you grab a slice of the pepperoni pizza and bite into it. “Enjoying the water, honeybun?” You counter, in too good a mood to not be teasing.

Both Dave and John laugh. “Hell yeah, man. After this, I think water and I might have to get married. Sorry, dude, but water’s a better boyfriend than you.” Dave’s voice is all dramatic and he even throws in a fake sob. You roll your eyes.

“I bet water even bought you flowers,” you say, letting yourself fall into this back and forth you tend to do with your matesprit.

“Water did. Water bought me roses, man. Roses.”

John is laughing so hard you think he might choke on his lunch. You reach over and pat his back. “Breathe, John,” you order softly, and okay you really need to not treat him like he’s such a pitiful little thing … even though he is.

“Sorry!” he exclaims, sucking in air. “You guys are just so funny! Are you always like this?”

“Yep. This is what you signed up for, Egbert.”

You chuckle a bit, if only because of the irony of that statement. John really doesn’t know what he signed up for when he decided to come visit for a week. Between Dave’s antics and your emotional rollercoaster, you’re surprised he isn’t overwhelmed.

The three of you finish lunch and Dave runs off, exclaiming about wanting to go do all the slides one more time before hitting the pool. John opts out and instead stays with you. Not that that lasts long, since after a while you start to get antsy and the two of you decide to walk around.

So you meander around the park, your human friend at your side.

Friend.

John’s your friend.

Honestly, you never thought it would come to this. You never thought that you’d ever see John as more than an absolute tool, but in the past few days he’s proven to you that he’s not what you thought he was. At all.

He’s … sweet. Caring. Playful. Genuine. You think that there’s probably a thousand words to describe him, not a one of them negative. And, most shockingly, you feel really good around him. Safe, warm, happy. For the past three years you had been so sure that only Dave would ever be able to make you feel that way, but then John came along and proved you wrong in a matter of days.

You glance at him, watching as his big sapphire eyes take in everything. He’s got a pleasant smile on his face, and you honestly kind of want to hug him again. God, what is up with you and wanting to hug John today?

You eventually stop beside one of the larger pools, sitting down and letting your feet dip into the refreshing, cool water. John sits beside you without invitation, kicking his legs a bit.

“So, um,” the human beside you says after a while of silence, “how’ve you been, anyway?”

“What?” you question, giving him a baffled look with knitted eyebrows and a little scowl. “You say that like we haven’t actually been hanging out for three fucking days.”

“Well, no, I meant in general. Like, before I came here.”

Oh.

You consider your answer. Shrug. “I’ve been fine, I guess. Dave and I have been living comfortably and I’ve been working through college.” What else did John expect you to say? You lead a relatively normal, boring life. A good, happy life, but still relatively uninteresting.

“Good.” John says firmly with a nod, then smiles at you almost mischievously. “So, Dave said you and Sollux are black.”

The sound that comes out of you is somewhere between a whine and a groan of dismay. “I am not pitch for Captor!” You exclaim, glaring at him, even though you absolutely are. “It might be criminal levels of fun to pick on him, and sure I might think he’s more on the aesthetically pleasing side, and- stop looking at me like that!”

“I dunno, Karkat! That sounds an awful lot like spades to me!” He says in a sing-song voice that simultaneously makes you want to punch him and ... punch him gently. Can you just punch him anyway?

You don’t.

“Yeah? Well, who made you such an expert?” you demand, reaching over and poking his bare chest. His skin is soft.

“You did!”

Oh. Right.

You’d completely forgotten how much you liked to tell John about quadrants, since he used to be so oblivious and didn’t understand anything. Damn, he’s probably better at identifying emotional connections than you are now.

You’re torn between pride and irritation.

You huff, though, not about to give him that win. “Well, whatever,” you mutter. “I’m not pitch for Sollux.”

You are such a liar.

“I think you should say something to him!” John states adamantly, giving you this look like if you argue he might seriously do something about it. You … really don’t want John to do something about it. Judging by what Dave tells you, John is a huge prankster and he’d probably try and prank you, or Sollux, into some fucked up form of confession.

“Look, Egbert,” you try with a sigh, “even if I did have black feelings for him, and I repeat that I do not, but even if I did, what would it matter? Asshole’s got negative five points in terms of social interaction points. Sometimes I doubt he’s even capable of romance.”

“Well-” John starts up, chest puffing out as if he’s going to argue, but then he just deflates like a balloon with a hole in it, slowly leaking out air. “I guess that’s fair.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Yeah, it is.”

It gets quiet between the two of you for a time, just sitting there with your feet in the pool, until finally John speaks. “Can I tell you a secret, Karkat?” he asks, and he sounds so quiet and insecure that your head whips around in a hurry to look at him, almost expecting him to be in tears. You’re relieved that he’s not.

“Yeah, sure.” You aren’t about to deny him this if he needs it. Honestly you just want him to not look so nervous about telling you something that’s obviously important to him. “Who am I gonna tell?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but for a moment he looks like he’s about to respond to it. Then he just blushes a bit in embarrassment-- which you think makes him look so damn pitiful-- and looks away. He scratches idly at his wrist.

“Well, uh … I used to have a really massive crush on Dave.”

What?

You stare at him, unsure how to take this information. First of all, you thought John was straight. Hell, Dave is always going on and on about how John is ‘not a homosexual’, and John himself has even said those words to you.

And then it hits you that he said it was Dave he used to have a crush on and you wince. Fuck, does that mean you took him away from John? Should you feel bad about that? Evidently, John can sense what you’re thinking because his eyes immediately go wide.

“Oh! I didn’t- I didn’t mean it to sound like it was a problem or anything!” he exclaims quickly, hands waving in front of him as if that might literally wipe away the potential hurt. “I just meant, I mean, I just meant to say that I’m not … I’m not straight?”

The way he says it like a question confuses you, but you don’t get to ask him to elaborate before he’s continuing. “I don’t know what I am, actually. I think I just like certain people, as opposed to specifically girls or specifically boys.” He laughs nervously, refusing to look at you. “That’s not weird, is it?”

Nope. You can’t help it. He’s too fucking small and pitiful and you can’t let him think there’s something wrong with him. You lift your hand and rest it on his shoulder, trying to ignore the feeling in your chest that makes your throat feel strange and the way you’re almost aching to chirp at him in reassurance.

“No, John, that’s not ‘weird’.” you tell him, making air-quotes around the word. “Every single person is different, unique in their own way, and you should never feel like your sexuality is wrong. If you like certain people as opposed to certain genders, then that’s up to you and you shouldn’t let anyone or anything tell you it’s fucked up.”

He looks at you finally, blue eyes so big and trusting that it puts new meaning to the term ‘butterflies in your stomach’. He smiles and it’s so fucking warm that you can’t help but smile back, as stupid as it makes you feel.

“Thanks, Karkat,” he says. “I dunno how to tell Dave. I mean, we’re always joking around and it’s like the butt of some of our best jokes.”

You shrug a bit, taking your hand back. “Just tell him, you moron. This is Dave we’re talking about. That asshole can make anything into a fucking joke. Seriously, you thought ‘no homo’ was his thing? Now you’ll be hearing about being ‘kind of homo, dude’.”

John laughs at that, playfully shoving your shoulder. He doesn’t respond though, instead just sitting there smiling like he’s just gotten a new puppy in a box. It’s so fucking sweet that it makes you feel light-headed.

And playful.

You wait until something catches his attention, which isn’t long because this is John, then you reach over and shove him over the edge of the pool. He flails as he falls in, but it’s the shallow end so he just stands up, dripping and spluttering as you grin and try not to laugh.

He looks bewildered, and when his eyes land on you he narrows them mischievously. Oh no. You try to get up and run but he grabs your ankle before you can, and the next thing you know you’re in the water with him.

Your gills, which haven’t touched this much water in ages, protest as they try to work. It stings since this water’s been treated with chlorine, but it’s not unbearable. You have been in a pool before, just not often.

You stand up, the water still midway up your chest, and shove your bangs out of your face, spitting out water. You wince a bit, and John seems to remember about your gills because his eyes go wide in a look akin to horror and suddenly his hands are all over your shoulders and arms and the idiot is literally trying to lift you up.

“Oh! Oh God! I’m sorry, Karkat, I forgot! Oh God, oh God-” He’s babbling as he practically tries to shove you towards the stairs of the pool. You roll your eyes a bit and grab his hands.

“John, shut up,” you tell him, holding his hands in yours and staring at him. “I’m not going to dissolve.”

“But …” John still looks guilty. “But doesn’t it … hurt?”

You shrug. “A little,” you admit. “But it’s tolerable.”

He lets out a breath of relief. “Okay.” He nods, as if affirming something. “But you probably shouldn’t stay in here.”

“Fuck that,” you argue, letting go of his hand to splash him. “You just fucking dragged me in here, and now you’re stuck with me!” You give him a small smile, if only just to prove to him that you really are okay.

It takes a moment, but then he grins back at you. “Oh no!” he exclaims, turning to run away, which looks absolutely ridiculous because you just can’t run in water.

You make a point of trying to chase him down, not noticing when Dave shows up to watch you with a little smirk on his face.

You’re all so tired when you get home that evening that you just make instant noodles for dinner and then head to bed. So worn out, none of you even have the energy to talk about the day. Dave’s got a sunburn, since of course he’s too cool for sunscreen, and while you didn’t burn terribly, you skin is sporting a slightly pinkish tint to it. John is the only one who, somehow, avoided a burn.

You know that Dave is for sure going to pick on him for it.

Regardless of the long day, John is more than ready for the next adventure come the next morning. You are not. You are absolutely all adventure-d out and you kind of just want to lay in bed for a good three days and sleep. And you do sleep in. Dave tries to rouse you at some point, but you’re just so exhausted that you grumble sleepily and go back to sleep.

You’re pretty sure he just kisses your forehead, tucks you in, and leaves.

When you wake up, the apartment is quiet and you know you’re home alone. Which is fine with you. Honestly, you need some time to think and collect your thoughts without your loving matesprit or unbelievably pitiful friend there to distract you.

So you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours but, when you check, is only twenty-three minutes. You think about Dave, who you love so much it almost hurts, about how wonderful he is and how well he treats you.

Dave is … everything to you. He’s there when you wake up first thing in the morning, and he’s there at night when you close your eyes. You love him so, so much and it still feels like you never tell him enough.

And then your thoughts wander to John, and you find that your face suddenly feels warm and your chest light. John. The guy who you hated before you met him face to face. You honestly used to despise him so much that the thought of talking to him made your head hurt. You used to groan whenever he’d talk to you online. But now? Now you find yourself almost eager to listen to him, to see him smile, to hear him laugh.

You’re not an idiot. You see this for what it is, but you just really don’t want to admit it to yourself, let alone to him. You do admit it, though, because this is pale as the fucking stars and you kind of hate yourself for doing an emotional one-eighty in just three days. Does that make you flimsy? Probably.

Fuck.

Thinking is stressful. It’s just way too much and you just want to stop worrying about it for a while. Needing a distraction, you reach for your phone that you shoved under your pillow before passing out last night. Maybe one of your other friends are online to talk to.

Sollux is online, but he always is and chances are he’ll just ignore you anyway. Nonetheless, you shoot him a message.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 13:31 --

CG: HEY, BULGEMONGREL, IF YOU HAPPEN TO BE ABLE TO TAKE YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS, I NEED SOMEONE TO TALK TO.

He ignores you, of course he does, and the only other people online are John and Dave, who are both idle and probably not looking at their phones. You debate on sending either of them a message, then sigh because if Sollux is going to pretend you don’t exist then you have no other choice.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 13:37 --

CG: WHERE DID YOU AND JOHN GO?
CG: NOT THAT I PARTICULARLY CARE, BUT YOU ASSHOLES LEFT ME HERE ALL ALONE WITH NOTHING TO DO.
CG: DAVE, LOOK AT YOUR FUCKING PHONE YOU MORON.
CG: I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR IT PINGING. YOU ALWAYS KEEP YOUR VOLUME ON FULL BLAST.
CG: GOD DAMN IT.

You promptly bury your face in your pillow in frustration, deciding that maybe suffocating yourself is the better option here, but then your phone buzzes and you glance up, hoping that Dave has responded to you.

It’s not Dave.

-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 13:40 --

EB: hi karkat!
CG: JOHN?
CG: WHAT DO YOU NEED?
EB: nothing.
EB: i was just wondering if you’re awake yet, but obviously you are since you replied.
CG: YEAH, I’VE BEEN AWAKE FOR A WHILE NOW.
EB: having fun without us?
CG: NO. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?
EB: can’t tell you!
CG: WHY?
EB: just kidding. dave got called and i guess he has to dj tonight and i wanted to see the place so i went with him!
CG: OH. SO YOU WON’T BE BACK UNTIL TONIGHT?

You’re … kind of disappointed by that. You admittedly really want company. You don’t tell John that, though, because that’s just pathetic and he’s not your moirail and he doesn’t need to coddle you. You kind of want him to, though.

EB: dave won’t be, but i’ll be back soon.
EB: he won’t let me stay because apparently these things are way too wild for my innocent eyes and ears.
EB: that’s okay though.
EB: you and i can always hang out!
CG: … YOU WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH ME?
EB: well duh! why wouldn’t i?
EB: you’re pretty cool!

There is no way that a blush spreads across your face, there is no way that you chitter softly to yourself, there is no way that you feel the rising tide of warmth in your chest. Oh God, you’ve really got it bad for him, don’t you?

You’re so fucked.

CG: UH. OKAY. THANKS, I GUESS.
CG: YOU’RE COOL TOO?
EB: haha aww thanks karkat!
EB: you can be really sweet when you want to be.
CG: WHAT.

Nope. This isn’t happening. John doesn’t mean the things he’s saying the way you want him to mean them. He’s just being his usual, doofus self. It’s funny how before, you would read this same conversation in such a different tone, but now you can just hear the bubbly warmth to his voice in his words.

EB: well uh
EB: it’s sort of sudden and i know this is like the most awkward and embarrassing way to do this and i am so sorry for that because i should say this to your face.
EB: but i’ve been trying for days and i just can’t get the nerve so i have to do it this way before i chicken out.
EB: so
EB: karkat, i have a crush on you.
EB: a diamond one i mean.

A high-pitch sound that you can’t even identify for how much of a disaster it is warbles up your throat and you stare at your phone like maybe this is a joke. Did you really even wake up today? Is this just a dream?

Your heart is racing suddenly and you have no idea what to say in the face of this revelation from John, but you have to say something. You know all about romance and you know that the fastest way to fuck this up is to just say nothing, but your fingers refuse to move and your brain refuses to supply a decent response.

You want to cry and part of you wants to throw your phone because somehow that feels like the only proper thing to do. You tighten your grip on it to avoid doing that, because you’d rather not break it, but you still have no idea what to say to John.

YOU DO?

ARE YOU SERIOUS?

THANK GOD IT’S NOT JUST ME.

These are all accurate but don’t feel quite right.

EB: karkat?
EB: are you okay?
EB: oh no. i didn’t upset you did i?
CG: I.
EB: yes?
EB: karkat you can’t just keep not answering like that. you’re freaking me out!

You growl in frustration and type the only thing you can think to to make him realize you’re not at all upset about his sudden romantic advance. Stunned and a little shocked, maybe, but you’re not mad at him.

CG: <>
EB: oh
EB: uh
EB: <>
EB: so that means you feel the same, right?

You do feel the same, but you’re not going to be a fucking child and hash it out over text. Your quadrants mean a lot to you and if John is serious about this-- and you really hope he is-- then you want to actually talk to him about it.

CG: WE ARE NOT DOING THIS ONLINE.
CG: GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE AND WE’RE GOING TO TALK ABOUT THIS.
CG: LIKE MATURE ADULTS.
CG: WHO CAN TALK ABOUT THINGS.
CG: AND MAYBE CUDDLE WHILE DOING SO.
EB: oh god that sounds great!
EB: and uh i actually am home.
CG: WHAT?
EB: i got back right after i told you and i was going to just come in and
EB: i dunno
EB: hug you or something
EB: but i’m sorta locked out because i didn’t grab the keys from dave.
CG: YOU MORON.

You toss your phone down and get up. Throwing on the first shirt you find, which happens to be one of Dave’s, and a pair of loose pants, you walk out to the door. For a moment when you reach it, you’re apprehensive. Nervous. You’ll be facing John in just a moment and then you’re going to make a pile with him, and then you’re going to talk. You’re just praying this isn’t some joke.

Steeling yourself, you reach up, unlock the door, and swing it open. Sure enough, John is standing there and he gives you a big, warm smile and steps inside. You shut the door behind him, then turn to him.

He’s looking anywhere but at you, seeming at least as nervous as you if not more so. The urge to reach up and touch his face is hard to resist, but you don’t want to fuck this up. You need to talk about this first. You want to get everything sorted out, set all your boundaries, and then you can deal with the need to just touch him and hold him.

“Come on,” you say, walking past him to head to the spare room, where you know there’s enough room to actually build a pile. You don’t glance back, but you hear him following you.

“What are we doing?” he asks you as you open the door to the room he’s staying in and step inside.

“Shut up and just grab things.” You’re eager to just get to the part where you actually talk and have a proper feelings jam.

“I don’t even know what to grab!” John protests, and he’s watching you as you go to the closet where you and Dave have been storing excess blankets and pillows. You pull open the door and start chucking soft things over your shoulder before you answer.

“Anything that looks comfortable to sit on.”

Normally a pile is supposed to be built of things that represent both parties, but you’re pretty sure John doesn’t have anything like that with him. It’s not a crime to make and use a really basic pile, but if John really wants to do this then you’ll absolutely commit to figuring something out.

John makes a noise of confusion, but then he takes in a sharp breath and you finally look at him as he says, “oh. Oh Right!” It’s dawning on him what’s going on, apparently, and suddenly he just looks excited as he literally tears the blanket off of the bed and grabs the pillows on it.

It’s a rather speedy and efficient process as the two of you drag everything to a corner and start arranging it all. Throughout it all, your heart practically gushes with emotion. This is a very intimate and crucial bonding point between moirails, or potential moirails, and even though you know John doesn’t feel the same things you are since he’s human and not a troll, you still smile a little at how excited and focused he looks, like he’s really putting effort into the process.

It takes only about fifteen minutes, but they’re the longest and best fifteen minutes of your life and, when finally you’re satisfied, you go over, rearrange things just enough to create a small dip, and you lay down in it. John copies you, lying on his side facing you, and then it’s just the two of you staring at each other.

Neither of you speaks, and you think it’s because you have no idea what to say. You have questions for him, you want to make sure he’s serious, even though by now it’s pretty obvious he is, but most of all you just want to reach across the small space between you and let yourself drown in him.

John eventually makes a small, distressed sound that reaches you in a way you’ve never been reached before. You must give him a look, because a shy, tentative smile crosses his face. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “I’m just … not sure what to say.”

“Neither am I,” you admit.

John fidgets a little, and this is when you let your hand reach over and gently rest on his arm, just below where the sleeve of his t-shirt ends. Such a small thing isn’t supposed to do much to him, you don’t think, but it does a lot to you. Your hand tingles a bit against his skin, as if touching him provides a small shock and buzz to your system.

You don’t even try to stop the quiet chirr that you let out at the feeling.

John’s eyes light up like fucking fireworks at the sound, and suddenly he looks so happy that you worry he might break. He shifts a little so that he’s a bit closer to you. “I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he tells you, his hands idly toying with the blankets as if he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“You have?” you ask, because this is news to you.

“Yeah. You’re just always so easily riled up and even before I met you in real life I just wanted to, I don’t know, maybe hug you every time you got hysterical?” John chuckles a little, looking away a bit. “I know it’s silly.”

“It’s not,” you reassure him, because that’s normal. What he just told you is a normal feeling. He’s not a troll so you’re admittedly surprised he even had that kind of reaction to you, but you don’t dare question it. “That’s actually really normal for pale pity.”

“Really?” Those blue eyes soften. “Good. I was worried for a while that something was wrong with me.”

Your head jerks up a bit, maybe too fast. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” you state fiercely, a hint of a growl to your voice. The idea that John would think he’s anything but perfect makes you want to personally speak to every fucking person who contributed to him thinking that. And by speak, you mean punch.

You must be glaring, because in a flash John’s hand is cupping your cheek, his thumb lightly caressing your skin. “Shhh,” he murmurs in a gentle tone that breaks right through your protective state and soothes you. “Shoosh, Karkat, it’s okay.”

This is so fucking good that you almost feel like you’re going to suffocate in it. And you’d die smiling. “Just …” you try, but your voice is strained so you take a breath to ease yourself a little more. “Don’t think that shit about yourself.”

“I don’t, not really,” he assures you, letting his hand drop from your face to rest instead on your neck. It feels really nice. “I mean, sometimes I have bad days where everything just sucks, but don’t we all?” He’s right. You tend to have those days a lot, but they’re not as bad as they used to be, not since Dave became your matesprit.

“Anyway,” John is speaking again, “is this a thing now? Are we going to do this?” He looks so nervous and shy and honest to God scared of rejection that you chirp at him in alarm at his expression and reach over with both hands, grabbing his face and tugging him forward.

You press your forehead to his before you answer, “of course we are, you idiot.” Because you would rather die than deny this bumbling blue moron anything.

His smile is so thrilled and relieved and he scoots over so that his entire body is pressed against yours and he hugs you. You’re going to literally drown in him, holy fuck. You feel fuzzy and your every point of contact with him tingles and you kind of just want to cling to him forever. You can cling to him for the moment, at least.

You’re just a little sad that he’s leaving in a few days and you might not get to touch him like this for a long time.

You spend the rest of the day in your pile with John, not that either of you wants to get out of it anyway. You talk about a lot of things with him, doing nothing but talking and cuddling and holding him and absorbing as much of the experience as you can.

You tell him a lot about how you grew up, about how you met Dave and he was really one of the first people to ever pay any attention to you, even if you were at odds with him at first. You tell him, reluctantly, about how you used to hate him when Dave introduced you online, about how always just assumed he was being an ass to you. You tell him about how you had a dramatic change of heart the last few days, and when you maybe get a little pessimistic and hysterical because you’re ‘already fucked up enough’, he shooshes you and kisses you and tells you that he loves you just the way you are and that there’s nothing for you to be ashamed about. You spend at least fifteen minutes crying about it for the first time in your life, and it feels so fucking wonderful to be able to share your burden with John, your moirail.

It’s during this time that it really hits you that you really did need a moirail. You’d thought it every now and again, dismissed it as nothing because you have Dave and that was enough, but it really dawns on you that you were so, so very wrong.

Eventually, when you run out of words to spew at him like vomit, you just collapse bonelessly against him and bury into him like a child. And he lets you. It’s exhausting to let everything out, even if it now feels like there’s a huge weight off of your shoulders. He rubs your back and plays with your hair, and it’s so soothing and wonderful that you feel light and heavy and you end up falling asleep against him.

You wake up at some point in the night when you hear talking, when you feel John’s chest vibrate as he talks back to whoever showed up, but you don’t care to listen or to pay attention and you just snuggle closer to your moirail and go back to sleep.

The next day, you find out that your midnight visitor was Dave. You find out that the asshole snapped a picture of you and John curled up asleep together before he woke his friend to ask about the apparently-not-at-all-surprising development. You have a brief moment where you can’t help but feel like you’re hurting Dave by having a moirail, and you tell him that but he hugs and you and kisses you and tells you that he couldn’t care less as long as you’re happy. And then John joins you and you’re wrapped up in the arms of your quadrants and everything is great.

For all of five minutes before Dave insists that you and John go on a date.

You try to protest, but John looks at you in surprise and asks if that’s even a thing that happens. You reluctantly admit that, yes, it is, that all quadrants, even kismesises, go on dates, and he looks at you with eyes so wide and pleading that you can’t say no.

So you end up going on a date with your moirail, who insists that you let him pick where you go and what you do. You’re expecting the two of you to go to some kind of restaurant, maybe go to a movie, so you’re surprised when John tells you that you’ll be walking to your destination.

Nonetheless, you just shrug and nod, throw on your favorite sweater, and then you leave with your moirail after Dave, the little shit that he is, does a theatrical display of fake-sobbing into one hand and exclaiming that ‘his boys are all grown up’. He insists that you be back by midnight, which you only understand the joke when he leans in and whispers that humans always insists their kids be back by midnight when they go on dates, and then he shoos you out before you can protest that you’re not even related to him by species let alone blood.

When you step out into the cool night air with John, who has a backpack over his shoulder, its contents a mystery to you, he doesn’t hesitate to grab your hand and entwine your fingers together. When you look at him, he’s smiling at nothing in particular.

He’s so sweet, so kind, so adorable, and it makes your heart thud strongly in your chest.

“So,” you say after you’ve been walking down the street for five minutes, “where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” John replies playfully. “It’s not far though, so don’t worry!”

He leads you down several streets despite this statement, and eventually you find yourself on the edge of a huge field. It’s darker than usual out here, being on the outskirts of the city-- you refused to move to the inner city when you and Dave got together. It’s way too chaotic-- but you can see perfectly in the dark.

“There’s nothing even here, John,” you tell him, wondering if he’s lost.

“I know. That’s the point!” He shoots you a smile before he starts to walk out into the field. You raise a brow, confused and curious, and you follow him. He doesn’t go far, eventually stopping and opening his backpack and pulling out a blanket- Oh God, you realize what’s going on here.

You make a sound somewhere between a purr and a whine because, fuck you love this cheesy idiot. He’s literally taking you on a starlit date, and that’s probably the most romantic things you’ve seen in a while.

John spreads out the blanket and the moment it’s out of his hands you crush him in a hug. “You doofus,” you murmur into the sweater he’s wearing. “You big, cliche, romantic, sappy doofus.”

Your moirail laughs and returns the hug, gently kissing the top of your head between your horns. “Dave told me you love the romantic stuff, and I thought that you’d like something like this.”

You nod, letting him go only long enough to sit down on the blanket with him before you’re practically glued to his side again. He wraps an arm around you, stretches out his legs and leans back on his free arm.

You’re purring like a content cat. When John giggles to himself, you lift your head a bit. “What?” you ask.

“Just you,” he answers fondly. “I love it when you make that sound. It’s really cute.”

Your face flushes and you grunt a bit in response. “Shut up, Egbert.” You huff, but there’s no malice in your voice. He shakes his head at you, then reaches for the backpack he brought, sitting up properly long enough to do so. He ruffles around in there while you lean against him with your eyes closed, committing this moment to memory, and then suddenly there’s something in your hands.

When you look, it’s a thermos. Tossing a questioning sound at John, he fishes another one out and opens it. “Just open it, dummy,” he says, twisting the lid off of his. You shrug a bit, not about to argue, twist off the lid, and sniff at the contents.

It’s hot chocolate.

Good God can this moment get anymore fucking cliche?

And of course it can, and it does when John suddenly nudges you. “Look, it’s starting!”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, but he grabs you chin enthusiastically and tips your head up so that you can see the sky. You don’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just stars and the moon high above you and- and then there’s a shooting star.

John brought you out to the middle of nowhere, had you sit on a blanket and curl up with him with hot chocolate … to watch a meteor shower. Your breath hitches and the incredibly fond, bubbly chirr that you make doesn’t even surprise you.

Your emotions feel like they’re going to explode and you feel like you’re going to cry at just how sweet and thoughtful this is. You set down your thermos in a hurry, twisting to face John, and you grab his cheeks, turning him to look at you.

And then give him the palest fucking kiss you can.

When you pull back and see the stunned look on your moirail’s face, you give him an honest to God smile and say, “I pity you so fucking pale it hurts me, John. It’s killing me. If I die it’s going to be because of your horribly cliche bullshit, I swear.”

He bursts out into laughter at that, leans against you and wraps an arm around you, and the two of you go quiet to simply enjoy each others’ presence and watch the way the stars streak across the sky.

The next day is John’s last day with you, and when you realize this upon waking up, you’re immediately miserable.

You and John are basically inseparable all morning, dreading when the clock strikes noon and John has to be taken to the airport. You break down crying when it’s 11:30, because of fucking course you do, and Dave leaves the living room to give you and John a moment.

“Karkat, shhh,” John says before Dave’s even disappeared into the room you share. His hands find your shoulders and he tugs you to his chest. You’re trying not to sob hysterically, but you’re still hiccping a little and sniffling and you hate how pathetic you must look.

“Shh,” your moirail murmurs again, this time right in your ear, rubbing your back as he practically curls around you. “It’s okay, shoosh. I won’t be gone forever, I promise. Shhh, shoosh, I’ll come back as soon as I can to see you.”

You know he will, and you don’t doubt him. It just fucking sucks that he’s going to be out of reach for who knows how long and you’re going to miss him, damn it! You’re going to miss him.

“I know, fuck, I know,” you whisper brokenly against his shoulder. “I’m being stupid, I’m sorry. Fucking … Fuck.”

“You’re not stupid for being sad that I’m leaving, Karkat,” he reassures you, but you hear the way his voice cracks and you know he’s sad that he’s leaving too. You clutch desperately at him, fingers curling in the shirt over his back, and you smush your face into his shoulder like maybe you can just merge with him.

The door across the room opens and Dave steps out. “John, dude, I need to talk to you for a sec,” he says. He sounds okay, but you can hear the tiny dip in his voice around the middle of his sentence and you know he’s feeling down about this whole situation.

“Right now, Dave?” John asks. “I’m kind of busy.”

“It’s important, man, I promise. Seriously.”

John makes a sound like he’s torn about what to do, but you make up his mind for him when you release him and lean back and away from him, pressing both hands flat against his chest. “Go see what he wants,” you say quietly.

“Karkat-”

“I’ll survive for five minutes, John.” And you give him your best glare despite being horribly depressed. You chews his lip for a second, then sighs and grasps your hands.

“Okay. I’ll be right back,” he promises seriously, squeezing your hands before letting them go and getting up. Dave takes him into the other room and you’re left in silence. It’s awful as first one minute passes, then two, and just as your thoughts are starting to catch up to you, you hear a loud shriek and the door swings open.

You spin a bit on the couch to look over and figure out what the fuck is going on, but before you can say anything you’re being tackled by John, who is repeating your name in a hurry in excitement and hugging you tightly.

Dave emerges from the room more calmly and you give him a raised brow in question. He just smiles at you and comes over to sit beside you, evidently not about to explain, so you turn to your moirail and grasp his shoulders.

“John?” you ask him. “What-”

John is babbling. “Karkat, Dave is the best and he’s gonna- and I’m gonna move and- and I won’t have to be gone long and-”

“John!” you exclaim, grabbing his shoulders to force him back and let go of you. He’s smiling huge and happy and he’s got tears of joy prickling at his eyes. You don’t understand what’s going on. “What the fuck is happening?”

Your moirail takes a few deep breaths, clearly trying to calm himself, and then he explains. “Dave asked me to move in with you guys!” he says in a high-pitched, gleeful voice. You turn to your matesprit immediately. “I mean, I’m still gonna have to leave today, but I’ll be coming back to stay!”

“Really?” you ask in a small, disbelieving voice.

“Yeah, man. What, did you think I was just gonna let my boyfriend’s other boyfriend go halfway across the country and probably not come back for months?” Dave replies with an amused grin. “Dude, I thought you had more faith in me.”

“Oh my God,” you breathe, throwing yourself at your wonderful, amazing, fucking dream of a matesprit. You kiss him deeply and when you speak every word is punctuated by another kiss. “I fucking love you.”

“Hey, I’m as thrilled as you are to have John around,” Dave says only once you let him. He lifts a hand and he and John bump fists. “Besides,” and suddenly he’s talking directly to you, “I love you too much to let you be sad, Karbaby.”

John giggles behind you, and then his arms are around you. You lean back into him at the same time as Dave joins in on this weird little hug, and you start to purr.

You have the best fucking quadrantmates in existence.