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Dave was sprawled out on his bed. The pillows and blankets had been tossed haphazardly onto the floor beside the bed. He should be used to the heat, having grown up in Texas, but air conditioners were a little tough to install in a place without windows. The meteor was passing a rather large star, and the meteor's inhabitants had been miserable for a few days because of it. So Dave was holed up in his room, wearing only boxers, with several fans pointed at him. He wasn't doing anything but lying there. It was too hot to move, too hot to think, and certainly too hot to be around people.
He had thought about alchemizing a swimming pool, but that would require going to the alchemiter, fiddling with the captcha codes until he got lucky, and finding a place for the pool. Not to mention filling it with water. Who the hell would even tend the damn thing? Surely, not Dave. (If they did “Nose Goes”, though, Dave would definitely be the one tending it. Why was he so bad at that game?) It might have even been worth it, in the long run, but he was just too damn tired, and hardly in the mood to put clothes on, which was an absolute must if he was leaving the safe confines of his room.
And that was a whole other can of worms. Swimsuits were a thing people wore in pools, weren't they? He wasn't quite ready to expose his scarred skin like that. A private pool was an option, he guessed, but that seemed kind of douchey. Dave had already been isolating himself for far too long. People would question his sanity if he didn't take advantage of a public pool during this heatwave. (People questioned his sanity anyway, but this was different.)
He should get up soon, though, he realized. Another thing people did was eat more than once a day. And he was just about out of apple juice. A pesterchum ping reminded him that he also hadn't talked to Karkat in a couple of days. But, god, he didn't want to move. More pings continued to sound over the course of several minutes, and Dave continued to ignore them. If it's important, they know where to find me.
He instantly regretted having that thought as someone began rapping on his door. He was in shock for a full two seconds before scrambling to get the blanket to cover himself up. He fell off the bed in the process and somehow became entangled in the mess of linens. The door opened. It was Karkat, who scanned the room briefly before his gaze fell on Dave, who was trying to act casual, like the blanket knot was exactly where he had intended to be. It was an obvious failure to everyone involved.
“Sup, Vantas,” he said. It did nothing to improve his facade. He also... couldn't move his right arm. How the fuck did the blankets get this tangled already?
“What the fuck are you doing?” Karkat demanded after a moment of stunned silence.
“You know.... uh... what does it look like I'm doing?”
“Having heatstroke?” Karkat offered. “Come out of there. I brought apple juice. I assume you need it, since I haven't seen your stupid face come out of your block in three days.”
“You're a real life-saver, Karks.” Dave really wanted him to leave now. “You can just leave it here.”
“No, fuck that. I didn't come over just to drop off some sugary, piss-colored liquid. Are you stuck?” He started to move closer, sending Dave into a panic.
“No!” Dave cried, stopping Karkat in his tracks. “I mean...” The troll stared expectantly as Dave floundered for an excuse. He had nothing, so he went with the truth. “I'm not exactly what you'd call... uh, fully dressed?”
Karkat looked kind of relieved. “Well, I can't say I blame you. Fuck this heat.” He was actually wearing shorts and a tank top, something Dave never thought he'd live to see. It really was fucking hot, though, and he didn't want to stay under those blankets. “It's not a big deal, Dave. But I can wait outside until you're done with... this.” Dave nodded and Karkat set down the jug of apple juice he'd been carrying (bless him) before retreating.
It took Dave a full minute to realize that, sometime during his panic, he had become stuck. The blanket was wedged underneath one of the bed's feet in a very unfortunate way, and, well, without the ability to move his arm, he couldn't get himself free. He struggled for yet another minute. He was sweating. His arm was starting to lose feeling. And Karkat was waiting for him. Dammit, why did he decide his bed needed a big, heavy frame?
Dave chewed the inside of his cheek anxiously, deciding what to do. Really, there was only one option, and it was painfully obvious.
“Karkat?” he called, desperately hoping that his friend hadn't gotten too impatient and wandered off. Karkat entered the room again, surprised to see Dave in the same spot.
“You're stuck aren't you?” He was smirking a little bit.
“I'm stuck,” Dave sighed.
“Can I help you, or are you going to flip your shit again?”
He hesitated. The awkwardness of the situation was not helping with the surrounding heat.
“Okay,” Dave finally said.
“Okay, you're not going to flip your shit again?”
“Please get me out of here.” He was starting to get claustrophobic now. The last thing he wanted was to have a full-blown panic attack in front of Karkat, who was already about to be witnessing more than Dave wanted him to.
He came over and lifted the frame (god, he's strong), sliding the blanket free. Then he carefully began to untangle Dave.
“Hey, uh...” Dave's jaw was set, his body tense.
Karkat paused. “I'm not about to judge your pathetic human body. I'm not like that.”
“Karkat, please. You are the king of unwanted judgment.”
“Do you want me to help you or not?” No response. “Then shut the fuck up and just trust me, okay?” Dave gave a slow nod and the disentanglement resumed. It only took another thirty seconds or so to get him free. Karkat was looking elsewhere now, probably trying to be polite (is that something he can do?), but he had definitely seen Dave.
He quickly hunted for something to wear. Did he even own shorts? And he hadn't worn short sleeves since...
He really didn't want to think about that. Regardless, all he owned were long-sleeved shirts and full-length pants. Fuck, he didn't want to wear those, but he also definitely didn't want to be around Karkat and not be wearing those. It was a dilemma that left Dave standing there motionless for way longer than he should have been.
“Are you dressed yet?” Karkat's voice snapped him out of his stupor.
“Hold up.” Fuck it. Dave put his god tier outfit back on. It was mostly flannel, which felt fucking terrible right now. He left the cape because, honestly, screw that. “Okay.”
Karkat turned to face him again. He looked pretty exasperated, but that was just par for the course with Karkat.
“Are you fucking stupid? You're not seriously wearing that.”
Dave looked down at himself. He was sweating pretty heavily now. “Uh, yeah, I seriously am.”
“Dave,” Karkat sighed. “I can understand why you would want to cover up your... situation...” He was trying to be delicate, but Karkat trying to be delicate was like John trying to have rhythm. It just wasn't happening.
“So much for no judgment,” Dave mumbled.
“I'm not judging anyone! I'm trying to keep you from getting heat-related brain damage. You've already got plenty of brain damage, clearly. You don't need any more.”
“I'm really feeling a loving vibe coming from you right now.” He was stalling , but Karkat was right. He wasn't going to last long in this heat.
“Do you want me to alchemize you a new set of clothes? Obviously, mine won't fit you, but we can adjust the size. I can even put a shitty 'meme' on it. Would that make you feel better?”
“Karkat--”
“Dave, listen to me,” Karkat said in a voice that was unusually gentle for him. He took Dave by the shoulders, and Dave resisted the urge to recoil from his touch. Jesus, Karkat was like a space heater sometimes. The warmth radiating from his hands alone was almost too much. “I literally could not give less of a shit about your appearance. If you're worried about everyone else, then what the fuck ever, we can stay here. But I'm not about to let you overheat, so change into something sensible. Or go back to what you were wearing before I showed up. Like I said, I don't give a shit.”
Dave bit his lip in thought. He was starting to get a headache from the blood pounding in his temples.
“Or,” Karkat continued. “You can tell me to fuck off. I wanted to hang out with you, but if my presence is going to make you wear some uncomfortable garbage, I'd rather just leave you alone.” He removed his hands from Dave's shoulders, preparing to leave.
“No, wait. Just... fuck, just give me a minute.”
Karkat rolled his eyes and settled down on Dave's couch. It was facing in the opposite direction, so Dave had some semblance of privacy. He found an old pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt and pretty much destroyed them. Using his sword, he shortened the sleeves and pant legs. It wasn't pretty, but it would do. Once changed, he took his place beside Karkat. Not too close, though. Body heat is the fucking devil.
Karkat looked Dave up and down, and Dave felt extremely self-conscious. He was made aware of every scar on his skin, every thin white line, every thick pink scar from those deeper gashes that never really healed right. He hated this. He had thought achieving god-tier status might have eliminated things like scars, but apparently that wasn't the case. He wanted to crawl back under the blankets. He could melt right now and it might be better than this.
But Karkat didn't say anything about the scars. Instead, he rambled on about their options for shitty rom-coms, along with an entirely too long summary of each one. He went ahead and chose Hitch (again), and popped it in the DVD player.
“I'm not going to ask.” Karkat was intentionally focusing on the previews instead of Dave. Could he not just skip them, like a normal person?
“Okay?” Dave said.
“I'm not going to ask,” he said again. “But if you want to talk about it...”
Dave looked at him. “I thought you didn't give a shit.”
Karkat's eyes narrowed. “I don't give a shit what you look like, Dave. I give a shit about your emotional state of being.”
“My emotional state of being is just fine.” That sounded a little too defensive.
“Of course. That's why you'd rather sweat to death than risk letting anyone see your arms.”
“Hey, I'd just come back. Probably.” Was dying of stubbornness considered a Just death? It damn sure wasn't Heroic.
“Dave.” Karkat paused the previews. Thank GOD. Nobody wanted to miss those.
“Jesus. Do you really wanna talk about this right now?”
“Yes. Because you haven't talked about it with anyone, and I think you probably should.”
Dave went stiff, his arms crossing unconsciously. He said under his breath, “You're starting to sound like Rose.”
“I'll take that as a compliment. Rose obviously cares about you. If I'm giving off the vibe of someone who cares about you, then guess what! I fucking do!”
That was... nice. But Dave still felt like he ought to keep his mouth shut. Maybe Karkat was right, though, that he needed to talk about it. Would that actually help, though? And was Karkat the best person to open up to?
Actually, now that he thought about it, Dave was similar to Karkat in a lot of ways. Shitty childhood, weird complex involving the color red, big mouth... Dave was just better at keeping a lid on his emotions. His inner Rose scolded him for doing something so detrimental to his psychological health. And Karkat had been emotionally vulnerable around Dave more times than he could count. Maybe it was time for that trust to go both ways?
“My Bro was an asshole.” So this was happening, he guessed. He didn't really know how to do this.
“No kidding.” It wasn't meant to be biting or sarcastic; simply an agreement.
“I mean, there's not much more to say on the matter. I could talk about how fucked up it was to attack a child in his own home and then leave him to tend to his wounds. But it wouldn't help anything. These...” Dave gestured to the marks on his arms. “These aren't going away.”
If Dave hadn't been wearing glasses, Karkat would have been looking him in the eyes.
“You're safe now. Nobody is going to hurt you like that again. I mean... we'll have the final showdown, okay. But your friends-- me... we won't do that to you.”
Dave shifted in his seat. This was all new to him, having someone to talk to about his past, someone to reassure him that it was okay. It was okay to feel. And Karkat cared. Dave knew he wasn't just pretending; Karkat was incredibly easy to read, and incredibly bad at hiding his emotions. His heart felt... something. Full? It wasn't a familiar feeling to Dave. Tears were threatening to emerge, but no. He wasn't about to start crying. He had a friend who cared about him. That's normal, he reminded himself. No reason to get emotional.
“Dave,” Karkat said. He had been saying Dave's name a lot today, hadn't he? “If you need to cry--”
“I'm not crying.” But he was starting to lose the battle against his tear ducts. He wiped uselessly at his eyes, trying to get them to just fucking stop. “My eyes are just sweating.”
“Sweating. Okay, that's fine too.” Dave had never seen Karkat look so patient before. He waited quietly, let Dave take his time.
“I guess you had a fucked up childhood too, right?”
Karkat shrugged. “I guess so, but that's normal for trolls. I never had the expectation that someone was going to take care of and provide for me. I mean, I had a lusus, but he wasn't exactly what I'd call helpful. But you had a guardian. They're supposed to take care of their young. They aren't supposed to...” He took another long look at Dave's arms and gritted his teeth. “They're not supposed to do that, right?”
“Supposedly, it was to make me stronger.”
“Fuck that! There are other ways to be strong. He didn't have to...” Karkat was at a loss for words. He looked more pissed off than usual, like he wanted to destroy Bro Strider. Too bad Bro was already gone. Dave almost wanted to see that fight. Almost. He wasn't totally in love with the idea of seeing his guardian again. He also didn't have high hopes of Karkat winning that fight. Karkat was vicious, sure, but Bro was unbelievably fast and didn't fight fair.
“It was a sword, right?” Karkat asked, pulling Dave out of his thoughts.
“Uh huh.” He wasn't trying to think specifically about Bro's weapon of choice, but it was bound to come up if they were having this conversation. “He kept those pieces of shit all over the house. Talk about child safety.”
“Do they hurt?”
Dave raised an eyebrow. “Swords? Yeah. They fucking hurt.”
Karkat scoffed. “Your scars, dipshit. Do they still hurt?”
“Oh. Uh... sometimes. Mostly the really bad ones.” Dave lifted his shirt tentatively, revealing a long raised scar that stretched diagonally across his chest. “This one was the worst, I think.”
“Shit.”
“It doesn't help that I had to patch it up myself.” Dave laughed humorlessly. “Imagine a ten-year-old, bleeding and trying to sew himself up with shaky hands.” He let his shirt drop back down.
“I'm sorry.”
Dave was baffled. “Why are you sorry?”
Karkat clenched his fists. “Because you don't fucking deserve this shit. And if it wasn't so damn hot, I would give you a hug right now.” That... actually sounded tempting. But the heat.
“Hey,” Dave said, perking up. “Do you wanna help me alchemize a swimming pool?”
“What's a swimming pool?”
He gasped dramatically. Maybe the day could get better. Showing new human things to Karkat was always a fun time.