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John murmured softly as he slowly rose from sleep. His eyes felt heavy. His body still too lax to move. Gradually, though, he managed to open his eyes; allowing himself some time to register the surroundings. Well, he wasn’t in his bedroom. He was, in fact, in the living room.
The lights from the hallway were still on (dim as they were), and the television continued its endless idle-screen loop. The notification reading ‘no disc’, more than likely burnt into the plasma screen by now. Just below it was a horrendous mess of DVD cases laid idly on the floor. A range of both the tritest action films and clichéd romance movies ever to grace cinematography were amongst the collection.
And on the coffee table adjacent to him, a fine mess of dishes and emptied food packets. But what was perhaps the most notable, was the warm bundle of blissfully-sleeping-Troll that lay cuddled in his lap. John sighed contently—a warm smile adorning his features—as he recalled the events of the night before.
It had been an adverse culture shock (for both Karkat as well as the other Trolls respectively) when they were first made aware of the extreme seasonal changes Earth seemed to undergo annually. The frosty weather wasn’t exactly something the alien species had been accustomed to on their home planet after all. They were even further disgruntled when made aware of the fact that the chilling atmosphere was but an initiation into the winter months that were soon to follow. Evidently, Karkat had insisted they spend their weekly date nights indoors from that moment forward. (Or at very least, for as long as the ‘fucking frostbitten portion of your Human sweep’ lasted—as the Troll had so graciously put it). John had, of course, cheerfully giggled and happily complied. A little old-fashioned movie night—where they could cuddle while gorging themselves on more food than their stomachs would appreciate was more than welcomed.
Though evidently; it would have seemed the two of them had unconsciously nodded off to sleep the night before—still lying contently in one another’s arms.
At this point, John lolled his head to the side to take a glance at the clock mounted on the wall behind him. While taking extra care as not to move too much—lest he wake the boy nestled in his lap.
The clock read: 10:11 am. Whoops.
John inwardly sighed. Lowering his gaze, he caught sight of the calendar that hung just below it. Eyes trailing the row of crossed-off boxes from days’ gone by, until reaching the unmarked box that indicated it was currently the 15th March—a Saturday. The space allocated was entirely barren; suggesting he had made no prior arraignments for that day.
Perfect.
Feeling slightly more relaxed, John returned his gaze to the adorable grey-skinned alien that remained blissfully asleep. Karkat had his head resting on the adolescents’ chest; with a single arm wrapped loosely around his waist. The other laying delicately curled beside his check. His facial features were softer and more relaxed from when he was awake—during which time he perpetually put as much effort as possible into maintaining his trademark ‘disgruntled scowl.' Though for now, his lips saw neither a pout nor tooth-bitten grimace and is red-speckled pupils remained hidden behind shut eye. All cutely framed by messy wisps of black bed-hair. That, as of presently, John was delightfully running his hands through.
Slowly and affectionately, John guided his fingertips through the thick locks; curling ringlets around his digits and coming fingers through the knotted hairs at the back of his partners head. Patting him tenderly in the gap in-between his two nubby horns.
Suddenly a faint murmur reached Johns ears—the Troll in his arms began to stir. The Human boy smiled warmly downward at the sleeping bundle; his eyes slowly fluttering apart as he verged on woken awareness. Still unfocused and sleepy, the Troll lifted his gaze by pivoting from the cheek that rested on Humans’ chest (not keen on parting with any physical contact they had established, so it seemed). His features remained lax as he uncurled his fist from beside his cheek and brought it up to Johns’ bangs—wrapping them around his clawed digits with relative ease.
Johns’ warm smile turned into a goofy grin as Karkat played idly with his hair. He could tell the Troll was still only half-awake. Making use of the matter, he leaned forward—allowing the Trolls’ palm to come 'round and rest on the side of his head—John placed a tender kiss to his temple and whispered, “Go back to sleep, you doofus.”
Karkat didn’t reply verbally. But merely lowered his gaze and shifted his body mass upward, and settling himself comfortably between the nook of the Humans neck. John could feel the Trolls’ eyes begin to flutter shut against his skin. His breathing was steady and soothing—as delighted chirps reminiscent of a cat's purr emanating from his throat.
Now, it would be a drastic understatement to say that Karkats’ complacency was almost (if entirely) unheard of—In fact, the cantankerous Troll himself consciously denied himself of expressing such emotions on a regular basis. But of course, the boy’s ill-temper was not everlasting. Those who did not know him personally likely wouldn't have guessed from his disposition alone—but Karkat was a sucker for romantic clichés. So while a marathon of tacky romcoms may have left John wanting to gag himself. Karkat, on the other hand, was feeling quite content and particularly affectionate as a result of them. (John had even managed to slip through a shy pet-name every so often, without as much as a scowl from its recipient).
Honestly, it was rather frightening to see the Troll so tranquil. But the Human boy took not a moment of it for granted, and continued to stroke lovingly through Karkats’ messy locks—progressively making his way towards the base of the Trolls’ nubby horns. Upon contact, said Trolls’ ears perked, and he shifted slightly in his matesprites’ hold. With a cheeky grin curling upon his lips, John nuzzled closer—slowly massaging a single candy-corn coloured numb between his fingers and thumb. The reaction was almost immediate, as the Troll became exceedingly more animated and vocal.
By this point, Karkat could no longer hide the perfectly articulated purrs that escaped him. He had long since ceased damming the Humans very existence for the discovery of such whims—having come to terms with his matesprites’ everlasting fetish for Troll horns and meow-beast noises. And although he was dying of shame for the actions that followed—he by no means fought back the urge to wiggle closer into the Humans calming touch. Demanding attention. The warmth such contact provided him—the security. Such sentiments could only be felt by someone who he sincerely believed to pity him.
Fear of venerability. Of his current state. Such things had no place within his conscience at the present time—for while he remained half-conscious within the Humans arms—he felt safe. Safe in the knowledge that he was in the embrace of someone whom truly—in the Human sense of the word—loved him.