Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You’ve known it for a while, known it since you first met Karkat, known it every single step of the way. You have no excuse for sneaking out every night that you can. You don’t know which is worse: the restlessness that tugs at your gut when you can’t make it to your meeting spot, or the guilt that weighs you down when you’re successful at sneaking outside.

Karkat is waiting for you, like usual. He’s always there first, standing under the same tree at the park, and every time you’re just a little more sure that he’s there early because he has nowhere else to go. At least it’s in an out of the way place. It really would not be good if anyone found him here.

The fact that he’s only here because of you in the first place? Yeah, that right there is one of the many reasons you know that none of this is a good idea.

And yet you still can’t cut off your meetings with him. God damn it.

The first part of him you really see is the tell-tale red glow of his eyes, luminescing slightly in the dark. The rest of him grows into sharper focus as you walk closer; his shoulders hunched up to his ears, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, the neck of his beaten sweater drawn up over his nose. Your breath fogs visibly in the cold night air as you jog the last couple of steps to him, and he pulls the sweater back down.

“You’re here early,” he says, arching an eyebrow.

“Dad has a case to work upstate,” you say, shrugging, “and Jane is sleeping over at a friend’s, so I didn’t have to wait for them to go to sleep.” You smile at him, and hold out the bag in your hands. “Here.”

“I told you I don’t need your charity,” he grumbles, but he doesn’t hesitate when he takes it from you this time. That makes you happier than it should. It’d taken him forever to believe you when you’d said you wouldn’t poison the food you brought him, the first couple of times.

Because you’re part of a long line of hunters, and Karkat is a half-breed, and both of you are so, so stupid.

He pulls out the sandwich and starts to eat it immediately, not even checking to see what else is in the bag. He’s done quickly, which means he probably hasn’t eaten in a while again, and you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. You hadn’t been able to sneak out for the past couple of days, since Dave and Rose and Jade decided to spring a surprise sleepover on you. Hopefully tonight will make up for that.

Karkat reaches in the bag again. You know he’s gotten to it when his eyebrows draw together, and you can’t help but grin.

He pulls it out, staring at the cupcake in his hand with a slightly bewildered look on his face, and you grin wider.

“Surprise!” you say. “Hope you like vanilla.”

He looks back into the bag, no doubt seeing the dozen other cupcakes inside, and says, “I’m going to get so sick from this.”

“That’s the spirit.” You reach over to grab a cupcake from the bag, only for Karkat to move it out of your range.

“No,” he says. “Check your human privilege. I’m not relinquishing a single one of these from my fucking grip.”

“Just one?” you say. “Please? Pleeeeease?” You pout at him, tenting your fingers up by your nose and giving him the puppiest eyes you can manage when you’re trying not to laugh. “Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

He narrows his eyes at you. You manage to hold your laughter in for exactly one more second before you can’t anymore, snickering into a hand. He snorts. “Fine. I hope you make yourself sick, asshole.”

You take a cupcake when he offers you one, folding your legs so you can sit on the grass, and Karkat follows your example. Neither of you say anything.

“Sorry,” you say after a moment, quietly. Karkat makes a noise at your side.

“For what?” His mouth is full. It makes him sound kind of ridiculous.

You shrug. For a lot of things, you guess. For the fact that you can’t take him home, to a place where he can be warm and safe and fed, to a place where he can feel like he belongs. He’s a half-breed. Both of you know what that means. Both sides hate him, neither side wants him. No matter where he goes the likelihood that someone will want him dead is pretty much a guarantee. Hell, you should have killed him the moment you realized what he is. He’s all alone and the fact that you can’t do something about it makes you really, really angry.

(You’ve thought about it. Thought about telling your dad, asking him for help. The look on Karkat’s face the first time you brought it up was more than enough reason for you to never ask again.)

“John Egbert, if you don’t stop being a melancholy shitstick by the time I’m done with this confectionery, I will shove another one so far down your throat you’ll be shitting rainbow sprinkles for weeks.”

Pfffft. “Hehehehe-”

“Hey, you wanna go, punk? I will fuck your shit up, don’t think I won’t.” You roll your eyes at his threat. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, I’m fucking serious. You have nothing to be sorry about, unless it’s for being unbelievably stupid, so you shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Such big words for such a little man,” you tease, and Karkat bristles.

“You did not. I’m only an inch shorter than you, dickwad!” He pushes your shoulder, hard, and you fall onto your side. You laugh into the grass as Karkat huffs in annoyance. And then is suspiciously silent.

You flail when he reaches over to wipe something cold and foreign down your cheek.

“Holy shit!” you yelp, sitting back up, and you hastily wipe your hand down your face. It comes away white with frosting. “I hate you,” you say, as Karkat snickers at you, “I hate you so so much.”

“Lies and slander,” he snorts. “The day you hate anything is the day the rest of the world comes to its senses.”

“Bluh.” You stick your tongue out at him.

He decides that the next best course of action is to grab it between his fingers.

“...Ka’kat.”

He hums innocently. “Hm?”

“Le’ go my tahg.”

“What was that?”

Oh, so that’s how he’s gonna play it, huh? Hehehe.

You lean forward just slightly and quickly enough that he can’t move back with you, and close your mouth around his fingers.

There’s still frosting on them, from when he smeared some on your face, and you use the opportunity lick them clean, waggling your eyebrows at him while you do. His eye twitches.

“That’s fucking disgusting,” he says when you’re done, and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and gives them a scowl before wiping them on the grass.

“Would you rather I use my mouth for...something else?” You waggle your eyebrows at him again. He scoffs.

“Oh my god, just shut up before you embarrass us both even more than you already have.”

“Make me.”

He considers you for a few seconds, his mouth turned down at a thoughtful angle.

And then oh shi--

A hand is clamped over your mouth before you can let out a yelp of surprise, and he uses the momentum of the movement to push you back down onto the grass, swinging his legs so that he’s sitting on your hips and pinning you down. He grabs the hand that reflexively swings to punch him in the face, gripping it by the wrist as he pins it above your head. You glare at him, heart racing. He grins at you in return. You’re reminded that even with them being dulled by his half-human blood, his teeth are still dangerously sharp.

You are doubly reminded of this when he begins to lean down, still grinning, and you can’t help but think -- just for a second -- that he is about to to tear out your throat.

(Honestly, it wouldn’t be the first time you thought that since you met him.)

He plants a kiss on your nose, and removes his hand from your mouth in time for him to kiss you there, too. He’s smiling smugly when he pulls away, licking his lips like a cat who’s just got the cream. You glare at him some more.

“Not fair,” you grumble, “I can’t even kiss you back.”

A little of the sharp smugness drains from his grin, softening it to a smile. He releases your wrist, planting his hand by your head, and this time when he leans down to kiss you, you move up to meet him.

One of the things you’ve learned about Karkat is that he’s surprisingly soft, when he wants to be. He’s always so careful around you, no matter how many times you’ve told him you’re not a baby. He knows you would beat him if it ever ended up coming to a one-on-one fight between you two, and yet he’s still so careful to keep himself in check around you, when he touches you.

His lips are soft and the skin of his cheek is warm under your palm. A cold breeze makes both of you shiver.

He slides off of you, falling to the grass at your side. Your hands end up tangled together somehow.

The stars are nice out tonight. You think you see the Big Dipper, but you’re not sure. You’ve never been able to remember the constellations.

The taste of vanilla lingers on your tongue.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

“Sorry,” you say again. You hear Karkat take a deep breath, sighing it out slowly through his nose.

“...Yeah,” he says after a moment. “Me too.”

You lie together until sunrise.

Chapter Text

The only warning you have is a flash of red at the corner of your vision before there is an ugly thunk. Karkat looks at you with the wide eyes of someone who has been betrayed, before he crumples at your feet.

Dave thinks you’re screaming for the wrong reasons.

- -

there is

something you are forgetting

It’s warm outside, and you’re making yourself upset thinking about people you’ll never be able to see again (if they’d even want to see you in the first place), and you’re hungry. You’re always hungry.

You try to steal from a guy with the hunters’ spirograph on a string around his neck and eyes so blue they almost hurt to look at. He asks you if you want the twenty in his pocket, because you look like you need it, dude.

no

no, you never forgot for a moment.

- -

The look of surprise on your dad’s face when he sees you piggybacking an unconscious boy is completely warranted.

You give him the most outward look of challenge you’ve ever felt the need to wear as he walks closer. You wait for him to take in the pointed teeth in Karkat’s slack mouth, his slightly pointed ears.

You don’t expect the look of familiarity that softens your dad’s features, or the barely-there smile that ghosts his lips as he takes off his hat.

Before he can say anything, you explain to him in no uncertain terms that you’re not going to leave Karkat until he wakes up, pointedly not looking at Dave as you do so. Jane is looking at you with what you’re starting to think is pity. You try not to think on it too hard.

You lay him down in your bed, closing and locking the door behind you, and you wait.

He is going to be so pissed.

- -

-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

TT: Twenty minutes ago, I was treated to the rather startling image of Dave stalking through our house and barricading himself in his room.
TT: Not even stopping to engage in witty repartee via raps and hastily constructed metaphors, mind you.
TT: After he stormed out earlier with hardly a word to either me or Jade, I’m sure you can understand why this is worrying.
TT: Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I believe that if I’m to get to the heart of the situation, you are to be my best source of information.
TT: Oh dear. I can hear his mixing. He hasn’t even bothered to wear his headphones this time.
TT: I’m going to believe that you’re simply busy at the moment, and not ignoring me. I’ll just keep talking until you’re free.
TT: It’s highly possible that Dave caught wind of a case and decided to try and deal with it on his own. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
TT: He is a remarkable swordsman for his age, but he should know by now that attempts at independence in our particular workfield tend to be fatal rather than heroic.
TT: Luckily there haven’t been many cases of too high a caliber around here. Just the odd unsentient.
TT: Now that I think about it, that in all likelihood is why Dave is upset in the first place. The fact that your father insists on handling cases involving Alternians on his own or with our respective guardians has been frustrating for all of us, at times.
TT: I suppose it is understandable. Being sentient, Alternians have much more potential to be dangerous than the others.
TT: Alright John, this is getting ridiculous. I hate to use such roundabout methods but Jane has told me that you’ve locked yourself in your room as well and won’t tell me why.
TT: She seemed upset, John. Not even a single Hoo hoo! throughout the entire conversation.
EB: i’ve been sneaking out at night to hang out with an alternian and dave followed me to our meeting spot and now karkat’s unconscious in my bed and i don’t want him to die.
TT: If you don’t answer in the next five seconds I will-
TT: Oh.
EB: i don’t know what to do!!!
TT: Damn. Ok.
TT: Explain this to me?
EB: i met karkat, who is a half-blood, and then i kept meeting him.
EB: secretly.
EB: at night.
TT: Even though you are aware that you are bound by duty to kill him.
EB: i know, rose!!! you don’t have to remind me, i fucked up, so stop mentioning my fucking duty!
TT: It wasn’t an accusation, John.
EB: fuck. i’m sorry. you’re not who i’m mad at.
TT: I’m guessing you’re angry with Dave?
EB: yes.
EB: no!
EB: he was only doing what i should’ve done from the beginning, it’s not his fault.
TT: And yet you’re still angry with him anyway.
EB: i don’t know! i don’t know anything!!
EB: i don’t know what’s going to happen to karkat or to me
EB: i don’t know what dad is going to do or how the others will react when they find out that we
EB: we should’ve stopped once we realized that we were
EB: i fucked up!
EB: i’m fucked up!
TT: Oh, John.
EB: i love him, rose.
TT: I’m so sorry.

- -

You’re warm, and comfortable, and it’s peacefully quiet.

Hmm. Something is amiss, here.

Oh, yeah, it might be the pain radiating as a sharp ache from the back of your head, or the fact that you can only get this feeling of warm/happy/safe from somewhere that’s inside, and that the last thing you remember is some asshole knocking you unconscious from behind. All of these things in combination isn’t making you very optimistic as to your current situation.

You open your eyes and immediately have your vision assaulted by several shitty posters, and, when you risk looking around, several shitty magic kits.

John is furiously typing to someone at his computer, his shoulders stiff and his fingers shaking over the keyboard as he types. You squint. Yeah, no, still can’t tell exactly what emotion is making him go all not-happy. You must be really fucked up right now. Well, more fucked up than usual.

Whatever. John isn’t happy. Possibly because you’re going to die. You honestly don’t know why consciousness is still an option for you right now.

You sit up, and your reflection in the computer screen makes John jump. He swivels around in his chair.

Aw, fuck. His eyes are red as hell. This is shit you will not stand for.

“Come here,” you say, opening up your arms, and John doesn’t hesitate. Within seconds you have an armful of Egbert, his arms so tight around you that you almost can’t breathe. He buries his face in your neck.

“I fucked up,” he whispers. “I didn’t know Dave was following me, I didn’t lead him there, I swear, I--”

“Hey,” you say sharply, cutting him off. “I believe you. Cut that shit out. Doofus.”

He laughs wetly. You take the moment to breathe in the scent of him. He smells like soap, and watermelon shampoo, and underneath it all he smells like John. It’s a welcome change from the shit and piss stench where you usually spend your days. He smells like home. “How long have I been unconscious like a useless tool?”

“An hour,” John says. Not too bad, but hrrm. Definitely longer than you would’ve liked. “How’s your head?” he asks. He pulls away a little, wiping at the new wetness under his eyes. You take the time to run a hand through the hair at the back of your head.

“Eh, I’ve had worse from douchebags who were legitimately trying to kill me. I’ll sleep it off in a couple of days.” If you’re even still alive in a couple days. John mirrors your grimace, obviously running along the same train of thought as you. “What’s the situation?”

“I don’t know!” he says, and there’s so much distress packed into those three words. “It’s up to my dad, and I don’t think he’d hurt you, but--”

“The possibility is still there,” you finish for him grimly. John doesn’t correct you. “Fuck. Okay. Shit.” You rub at an eye. It’s not fair. It’s never been fair, and letting loose the stinging pressure behind your eyes won’t do a single fucking thing to fix it. “We have to go out there eventually, don’t we?”

You don’t need to watch for John’s nod. You already know the answer.

Whatever the fuck happens to you, you’ll be fine. You’ll deal with it. But you simply can not let them hurt John, if it’s the last thing you’re sure of before you take your final breath on this shitty planet.

You just can’t.

- -

You don’t like how calm Karkat is acting about this whole thing. It’s like he knows something you don’t, as ridiculous as that sounds, and it scares you how flippant he is that he could possibly die. Because of you and your stupidity.

The second you open the door to your room, the already constant slight glow of his eyes flares just that much brighter, and then you know that on the inside he is terrified.

You’re not sure if that makes you feel better, or worse.

Jane must have left while you were waiting, along with Dave, because you don’t see her. You lead the way down to your dad’s study, the light from inside cutting through the darkness of the hallway through the half-open door. Karkat stalks ahead of you before you can stop him, swinging it open.

Dad is sitting in his usual chair behind his desk, a book open in front of him. He blinks at you both from behind his reading glasses as he looks up. Karkat doesn’t give him the chance to speak.

“I’ll leave,” Karkat says firmly. “I’ll fuck off as far as you want me to go. I’ll let you drain every last drop of my disgusting blood,” he says, pointing to you as you stare at him in horror, “I’ll do anything as long as you swear not to do anything to him.”

“Ka--”

“No,” he snarls, cutting you off before you can even finish his name, and his eyes flare again. “Do you want word getting around to other hunters that you’ve been fraternizing with a freak like me? Or to get disowned? I don’t fucking think so! So let me be a fucking martyr if I god damn want to be.” He turns back to your dad, a scowl still branded across his face, and you wish that you could tell him he’s wrong but he’s right, he’s right and you hate it. “Well? Are you going to kill me or not?”

There’s a few moments where your dad does nothing, until he says, “Well.” He slides the reading glasses off of his nose, and looks at Karkat with a smile on his face. “If it isn’t the little Vantas boy. I was wondering where you’d run off to.”

What.

“What?” Karkat takes the smallest of steps back. “How the fuck.”

“I was close friends with your father,” Dad says softly, and he continues before either of you can speak. “I’ve been looking for you. Should’ve known you’d be right under my nose.” His smile falls a little, tenting his hands above his desk. His hat is still off, making it easier to see the way his eyebrows are drawn just slightly. “How would you like a place to stay?”

Karkat makes a muted click-chrr in the back of his throat, a noise you haven’t heard him make before, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. You were feeling it yourself not even ten minutes ago when you were talking to Rose; confusion, fear.

Screw feeling it ten minutes ago -- you’re feeling that now.

“Dad, what’s going on?” You side-step closer to Karkat, hoping it will make a least one of you feel better. Dad sighs.

“This young man and I are long overdue for a talk. Will you get dinner ready, John?”

You know it’s a dismissal, but you can’t move. You refuse to leave Karkat alone. You’re about to tell your dad this when Karkat shoots you a look.

You take a breath.

The study as you leave it is a cold space at your back.

- -

John’s dad offers you a disarming smile. He knows better than to ask if you’d like to take a seat. Instead he says, “What do you know about your father?”

This is the second time he’s brought him up. You don’t like it.

“He was killed for being a humanfucker,” you say shortly, unable to keep out the anger and bitterness from your voice, and Mr Egbert winces.

And then he says, “No.”

You stare at him uncomprehendingly. No? What does he mean, no? Your dad fucked some human woman, who had you, and then he was killed for being a stupid son of a bitch. It’s not a matter of opinion!

“Let me explain,” he begins. “Your line has a-- a charm about you,” he says, waving a hand in the air. “You might have noticed by now, but people tend to go along with what you say.”

Wow. This guy couldn’t be more wrong. If anything, the people you’ve talked to tend to do the exact opposite of what you say just to be contrary shitsponges.

“Or,” he amends, “they tend to go along with what you feel, in most cases.”

...Yeah, okay, you can actually see that. Holy shit.

“Where are you going with this?” you ask warily.

“Your father explained it to me once as being highly intuitive of other’s emotions,” he continues, as if you hadn’t spoken at all. “Not empathy so much as a sixth sense. It’s what made him realize that what we were doing at that time was wrong.”

“Which was?” you prompt, still wary.

“Slaughtering each other,” he says simply. “Hunters and Alternians killing indiscriminately with no justifiable action on either side.”

“Are you trying to say that shit like that isn’t happening now?”

“On the scale that it was before? Definitely not. And you have your father to thank for that.”

He says nothing for a few moments, obviously trying to give you time to take this in. You wish he’d just get whatever it is he wants to talk to you about over with. As if sensing your impatience, Mr Egbert sighs.

“He tried to settle negotiations between our two sides. Treaties and conditions that would help curb needless bloodshed. We traded books, information, technologies; anything and everything that would help us understand.”

“How do you know all this?” you interrupt.

Mr Egbert smiles at you. “I was the one who your father did the negotiations with. We became friends, inevitably.”

“Great,” you say, throwing your hands up. “You were friends with my dad, fucking fantastic, and it turns out he was some sort of revolutionary pacifist, whoop-de-doo! That still doesn’t explain your previous objection of obvious fact.”

“He was ambushed,” Mr Egbert says, almost angrily, and you snap your mouth shut, “by hunters who were too scared of change and too fond of blood to stop bathing in it, and murdered in a way that I dearly hope you will never learn of and I will never describe. His affiliation with your mother and your resulting existence was only another poor excuse for something that should never have happened.”

Well.

Fuck.

You sit in the chair this time. Mr Egbert is upset, obviously, and there is regret set down deep into his bones. Hesitantly, you ask, “What happened after?”

“I only have reports written after the fact to go by,” he says, rubbing at the crease in his forehead. “I was away at the time, which I wish hadn’t been the case. But from what I read, the hunters responsible for your father’s death made your mother watch the entire thing before forcing her to leave and abandon you.”

God damn, that is some fucked up shit. “And you humans call us the monsters,” you mutter, and Mr Egberts laughs bitterly.

“That’s not to say that the murderers weren’t held accountable for their actions,” he says. “Each and every one of them was given their due justice.”

Neither of you say anything for a moment. You’re just. Slowly coming to terms with the fact that maybe your father wasn’t as much of a bastard as you’ve grown up thinking he was. And...your mom is still out there somewhere too, right? Assuming that she hasn’t died of illness or old age or something.

“I have something for you,” he says, finally. “You might find it interesting.” He closes the book in front of him, turning it around and sliding it over to you. It looks like any other journal, and when you open it, the pages are crisp and white. You’re not entirely sure what you’re supposed to find so interesting, until you notice the name scrawled at the top of the very first page.

‘If lost, please return this journal to Kankri Vantas.’

There are pages upon pages covered in messy black scrawl, with the occasional glimpse of color. Some of the pages are covered in nothing but countless doodles obviously drawn by different hands.

“I’ve been keeping that safe,” Mr Egbert says quietly, drawing you out of your thoughts, “in case I ever found you.” Your eyes are probably luminescing like crazy, but you’re too distracted to try and change that right now. “It’s yours to keep.”

You shake your head slowly, closing the journal and setting it in your lap. You’ll read it...later. When you have the time. “So I’m guessing it’s safe to assume that you’re not going to kill me.”

“No,” Mr Egbert says, and his laughter this time is a little more genuine. “I couldn’t let anything happen to my godson, now, could I?”

His.

What.

“I’m kidding, no need to look so surprised,” he says, grinning, and oh damn him. Somehow throughout all of this you’ve forgotten that this is John’s father. You glare at him a little, and he coughs into a hand, before sobering a little. “Regardless. You’re welcome to stay here, and if you’re not comfortable with that, I’m more than willing to arrange a more independant place for you to stay.”

“I’ll think about it,” you allow, and in your head you correct it to ‘I’ll talk it over with John.’ As amazing as the possibility of you getting to live together is, you don’t know how ecstatic he’ll feel about you potentially sharing a living space. Who knows, you might be one of those couples who gets sick of each other if you have to live together.

Hopefully not. That would suck major ass.

...And then there’s the fact that you doubt Mr Egbert is aware of the extent of your and John’s relationship. Haha, woops.

Mr Egbert nods. “That’s all I can ask. I have a few things to finish up here, but why don’t you go see what John’s managed to cook up?”

There’s a girl with blonde hair talking with John quietly by the front door, when you walk down the hall to where you think the kitchen is supposed to be.

- -

You’re trying to explain everything to Rose, who apparently got worried when you stopped responding to her messages and decided to just come over, when you see Karkat hesitating in the hallway. You cut off in the middle of a sentence, unable to help yourself as you practically run to go hug him.

You think you overdo it a little, because with a startled “Shit!” on his end, you both end up on the floor.

You were worried, okay?

“It’s fine,” he says, patting your back awkwardly. “It’s going to be fine, so calm the fuck down and help me up.”

“Nooo,” you say, “I don’t wanna get up.” Because if you get up then you’ll have to be a responsible adult, and everything that entails is kind of scaring you right now.

Karkat smacks you on the back of your head.

“Ow!”

“Do you want to hear about me maybe getting to live with you, or not? Because I’m not explaining it from the floor.”

It takes a moment.

Karkat...living...with you.

“Oh my god,” you say. “Really?”

“Yes, really. And either way, if your dad is to be trusted, nobody is killing anybody. Like I said, it’s fine.”

Karkat isn’t going to die. He’s not going to be forced to leave, to a place where you’ll never see him again.You know you’re missing some details here, and you don’t know exactly what Dad said, but at the moment you could care less.

It’s going to be okay.

You hug him tighter. It feels like there’s a spine of a book, of all things, digging into your ribs, but you don’t complain as Karkat hugs you back.

The oven dings, and you try not to ruin the moment but end up snickering anyway.

“Oh no,” Karkat groans, “what the fuck are you up to this time?”

You help him up, and introduce him to Rose, and then pretty much skip into the kitchen. You hear Karkat say “Should I be scared?” and Rose responds with “Most definitely. Possibly even terrified” Oh, ye of little faith.

They’re not cool yet, and it makes you wince to put the frosting on them while they’re still hot, but the look on Karkat’s face when you bring out the small plate of cupcakes is more than worth the baking travesty.

Dad comes out while you’re all eating them and gives you a look like he knows. He always knows. He laughs and shakes his head, though, and starts getting a real dinner together.

Karkat asks if he can take a shower.

Yeah. Things are going to be just fine.