Chapter Text
“Do you really fucking think that these west Alterinan sewage-masters are the one’s calling the shots? Hell no. It’s Princess gogdamn Toadstool and you can’t handle that expression of female dominance like I can.”
“West indicates a two dimensional vector. A fuckin’ space empire requires three dimensions. West means jack shit to me.”
Grumble, grumble. “Everything to the left from the Imperial spaceport outwards? West tetrasphere? The Italians?”
“I see. You guys had Italians on Alternia as well?”
“Of fucking course we did! Who do you think would make all of the dangernoodles? Before you accuse me of something moronic like being ‘advanced troll culinary exclusionist’, they literally banned all other trolls from making dangernoodles. The Italian’s took that shit seriously.”
“Dangernoodles.”
On a couch facing a flatscreen television sit both Dave and Karkat. Karkat is hunched forward in order to talk over Dave’s lounging form; one arm casually thrown over the back.
Dave nods sagely. “You heard the man.”
Dirk hears a snort next to his ear.
Cuddled up next to him on an oversized bean bag chair is one John Egbert. More accurately, Dirk finds himself over more than halfway into John’s lap. The “bean” bag chair had sucked the two of them in like a merciless, memory foam vortex. As awkward as it was to get situated into the damn thing, it would be even more of a pain in the ass to readjust their positions.
Fortunately for Dirk, he finds himself quite comfortable with this outcome for the time being. John had whined earlier that he couldn't see the tv that well and that Dirk’s “mountain-sized ass” was crushing him. At no point did Dirk inhibit John's breathing. Amused, Dirk continues to subtly shuffle in front of the shorter boy’s face here and there. However, if John’s gentle squeezing around his middle is any indication, then Dirk’s boyfriend probably doesn't mind as much as he doth protest.
“Dirk, just let Karkat be Peach, oh my god. We haven’t even started playing yet!”
“Hush, John. I need to show dominance after my total annihilation last game.”
Dave kicks up his feet onto the coffee table, much to Karkat’s chagrin, leering at Dirk. “We just want to make Kat happy, dawg. Is that so much to ask? He had a brutal anime backstory; mom murdered and orphaned at the tender age of four. No Pocky to eat. A brutal dictator breathing down his neck, asking for a discreet payment of one trillion yen to assure his continued existence until the day he awoke to his newfound powers.”
“What’s a mom?” Karkat asks.
“Human geneaology is fucking fascinating. See, when females-“
John laughs. “Dirk, he already knows. He’s making fun of Dave.”
“I knew that.”
“Did you?” John coos in Dirk’s ear.
Karkat scoffs, hiding a laugh. “Whatever. I don’t give a flying rat’s sewage soaked ball’s worth of shit. Dirk can be the booty fruit princess.”
“No, you have the honors, Mr. Strider-to-be. Your happiness is important to me, son.”
“Gag. I’LL TAKE HER, FUCK OFF.”
~~~
After booting up Mario Party 2, it took roughly twenty more minutes of bickering and elaborate haranguing to pick the fucking board, then their characters.
John ended up taking Peach before anyone else. What proceeded was a long, arduous fifty round game that started off straight forward enough, but then proceeded to devolve into a series of passive aggressive backstabbery. Over the course of the game begrudging alliances were formed, sincere camaraderie felt; all inevitably to be dissolved. It consisted of victories most sublime and the surliest of defeats. Especially when Karkat fucked over John by landing on the Chance Time space. John lost all of the star’s he had stolen through Boo and was forced to trade them to Dirk. The latter was promptly shoved off of the warm lap he was fully nestled on, laughing on the way down.
In the end, it was Donkey Kong, aka; Dave whom claimed the title of Super Star. Somehow.
“Motherfucker got all of the bonus stars! What the fuck?”
“I’m a visionary. My sick moves were all dealt with the most probable bonus stars in mind. Kept my cool and wove a path to sweet, sweet victory just like Rose taught me.”
John scoffs at Dave. “Liar! You suck at navigating and stuff. Especially paths! You just got lucky in minigames.”
“What, no I don’t. I’m a fucking mastermind.”
“You got lost two days ago.”
“Babe, do you hear this gratuitous slander against my character? Defend me, my little knight.”
Karkat rolls his eyes, a dramatic gesture requiring all four limbs for him. “John and I had to sniff out your sorry ass. ‘Where on this crudely repopulated shitstain of a planet are you?’ ‘Somewhere between a sedentary mound and an unyielding surface.’ ‘WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?’ ‘The ocean. I flew out here and now I’m lost come save my beautiful curvalicious self.’ ‘YOU HAVE GPS BULGESNIFFER.’ ‘My phone isn’t magic dude, it says go North Northeast 10 degrees.’ ‘SO? GET ON WITH IT.’ ‘What way is North?’”
The guys fall over laughing at Karkat’s re-enactment. His Dave impressions would be uncanny if only he managed to cover the Alternian dialect.
After a few minutes of attempting to calm down, John pipes up or more specifically his stomach.
“Man, I’m hungry, can we order out? My treat!”
“Fuck off with your bullshit generosity shtick. No one can beat Egbert at a hospitality-off, not even when he’s a guest because he is simply the best blah blah blah. You think that I hatched yesterday? Everyone knows that you’re an insufferable shit when it comes to upholding an illogical creed of etiquette.”
“Noooo,” John protests, his tone betraying false innocence. “I don’t know what you could possibly be talking about, Karkat!” His giggle fades into a light cough.
Dirk turns his head to lower his shades at John to fix him with a Look. It’s a somewhat difficult tactic to execute at this angle since Dirk’s ‘relocation’ to the floor. After apologizing, John had offered a few times to let him back up onto the bean bag only to be declined. Dirk had assured him that the carpet and squishy bean bag on his back were actually pretty comfortable.
They both lock eyes, neither one of them willing to be the first to flinch. Elevation difference aside, Dirk could still give John a run for his money in displays of bullheaded steadfastness.
Several ticks go by until John deflates, letting out a dramatic huff. Dirk seems to relax at this, his hard gaze shifting into something more fond.
“Ugh! Fine. Bluh, bluh, no outshining the hosts bluh, bluh, meddling douches. What ever.”
“Just take it easy.” Dirk suggests, patting John’s leg.
A low whistle comes from the direction of the couch.
“Damn, did I just witness a total shutdown of Egbertian tomfuckery? From teasing Karkat no less? Hopy shit. Bro, you have to teach me. How can I, a lowly acolyte, too learn be in control of the rascally wiles of a prankster? That is too much power for one man to possess, god or not. Might as well change your title to ‘Constabulary of Jackassery’ or something. Gotta protect the people-”
Before Dirk can give his brother a proper response, Karkat gives Dave a light ribbing.
“Ouch! Easy on the merch, those elbows of yours are hella pointy.”
“I’m trying to save you from digging yourself into a deeper hole, dumbass.”
John blithely ignores Dave’s comments and instead derails the conversation with a much more pressing issue.
“Sooo, what kind food are we all in the mood for?”
“Whatever we pick, I for one, vote that Dave is the one who orders. All in favor say ‘aye’”
A chorus of three different ‘ayes’’ fill the room.
“...Fuck ya’ll.”
~~~
Bzzbzz
The buzzer rings when the food arrives, thankfully within the relatively promised time limit. Karkat pauses in the middle of a heated game of Mario Kart; it was the final lap of Yoshi’s Valley. The brief reprieve causes the other three guys to groan in unison.
“I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but I am going to get you, Strider. I swear on Nannasprite’s old and probably destroyed urn that you will be met with swift justice! Normally, that dumb stuff is Terezi’s thing, but this is what you have pushed me to, Dirk. I hope you do not mind living with that.” John says in his ‘I’m doing my best to sound serious right now’ voice.
It’s hardly convincing.
“I don't think that the issue has been made entirely clear to me, John. It must be all of the bad karma that I've incurred from our last encounter in Mario Party. Would you mind illuminating further?”
“Har har. Stop ramming me off of every narrow path you asshole! You can target anyone else!"
Bzzbzzz
“All’s fair in love and Mario Kart. Besides, that’s a hefty thing for you to ask of me. How can I be expected to ignore my boyfriend when he is vulnerable for receiving anything resembling a good ramming and or literal slamming? John Egbert, are you saying that you cannot brace for the Deep Impact that only I can offer?”
“Oh wow, for someone who loves to talk about his ‘superior’ sense of humor, you sure do fall back on unfunny dick jokes a whole lot!”
“Who said anything about dicks? Besides, I can’t be blamed for your lack of appreciation for my artistry.”
“There’s nothing ‘artsy’ about it. You’re a massive nerd who covers up baby level jokes with irony. That's it.”
“Oh, hell no-”
“Please, pretty, pretty please save your shitty foreplay for the actual bedroom and not within the sanctity of your innocent brother slash best bro’s home? Quit making bumper cars into something so fucking depraved. You both sound like a couple of dumbass twelve year olds trying to get with each other while scoping out the shitty state fair. Shit is so goddamn unrefined that it physically hurts me.”
“Why are you imagining us as twelve year olds, dude?” John asks, holding in a laugh.
Karkat sighs mightily.
Bzzbzz!
“Ok, time for you guys to quit bitching like a brood of newly hatched grubs. I guess I’ll be the one to get the door since someone has to display a little gogdamn agency in this apartment.” Karkat barks, “You know, to get the that food I’m paying for? You ungrateful lot.“
Dave doesn't move despite Karkat's glare.
We love you too, buddy!”
“You’re a shining example to your species, dude.”
“No one can save us like you, kitkat.”
With a derisive snort, Karkat gets up from the couch, walking around it to head toward the door before stopping. He pats himself down.
“Dammit. Dave, where’s the money?”
“Hang on, babe.” Dave responds, not even attempting to move.
Karkat stands by the door looking aghast.
“You lazy fuck, you better not-”
WIth a sudden flash of red a second Dave appears in front of Karkat, who then proceeds to slip money into the troll’s hand. He appears to be a little bit disheveled, but plays it cool.
“It’s all in there, no need to count it. Love you.”
Karkat chokes on the curse he was about to let loose. Whether the flush that colors the troll’s face is from embarrassment or sheer outrage isn’t clear.
The other three in the room nonchalantly wave in acknowledgement to future Dave.
“Peace.”
Flashing a peace sign, future Dave fucks off in another blink of red; leaving the group as quickly as he came.
~~~
Karkat greets the delivery troll in a minor daze. The exchange of payment and goods goes without incident. Balancing their order in his arms, Karkat kicks the door closed.
During the brief exchange, Dave was busy being distracted by his phone. John had opted to start playing with Dirk’s hair. He started tugging on the spiky edges in order to get his boyfriend’s attention. Dirk leaned back into John’s awaiting hands easily, the light scratches felt good on his scalp.
Just as Dirk was beginning to really enjoy John’s ministrations, the door slamming gets their attention.
“Oh! Karkat, let me help you with that.”
Those divine hands pull away and Dirk finds himself just a tiny bit miffed at the loss.
John floats over to help Karkat carry the food. After a few minor protests from the latter, the two of them meander into the kitchen together.
After a beat of silence, Dirk gets bored of being ignored and flashsteps onto the cushion that Karkat had previously vacated.
He stares at Dave.
“Can I help you, dude?” Dave asks, refusing to look up from his phone.
“Depends. You wanna let me in on what you and John have planned recently?”
“Nani the fuck?”
“If I’m going to have to endure another bout of John’s gambit, I want to be able to implement the proper countermeasures for said japery.“
“Those sure are some things you said there.”
“Should you choose to cooperate, I’ll fuckin' give you Jane’s recipe for apple strudel.”
Dave looks up from his phone, eyes scanning Dirk’s expression.
“You serious?"
“Have I ever been known to not be a man of my word?”
“I wonder if that's still considered corporate espionage if it's from the old world?”
“I know that you're joking, but this is Jane’s own recipe dingus khan, nothing CrockerCorp about it. She’s still getting her feelers out into the new world, Dave. We all are. No one is stopping you from your financial fandangling, remember.”
It wasn't that Dave possessed a particularly personal vendetta against the old corporation himself, per se, but everyone in their little entourage had beef with the old Batterbitch one way or another. The anxiety hanging over anything (anyone) associated with the corporation's name was a real, but unfortunate side effect. When Jane proposed starting up her own bakery chain, it made some of their friends a little antsy. However, Jane had divulged Dirk that using the name CrockerCorp would have been a little too traumatizing to use for Jane herself. A difficult thing to admit for someone so fiercely independent. He could relate.
Even if she was a little frightened, Jane knew that is was something wanted to do. Who was Dirk to discourage her?
Besides, Dirk knows that Dave just likes to dunk on Jane because she won't accept any of his financial backings. Real competition for him. 'Bout damn time.
Dave sighs.
“Fine, but much as I would love to help you out and obtain that sweet’n’sexy bribe, I honestly don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit.”
Just the other day, Dirk had overheard John talking in another room. He was taking one of his, as John so lightly put it, “mandatory” breaks from his workshop. He was supposed to take a set number of breaks within a certain amount of time. Especially when John was out for the whole day.
None of their friends or allies needed any assistance, at least not immediately, which allowed John to hang out at home that day. Normally, John would have barged in by then to check up on Dirk. He strolled out of his workshop in order to nab a drink from the kitchen. Maybe take a piss while he was at it. While Dirk decided to take a little detour to the bathroom before heading right back to work; his ears perked up as John’s voice floated from the bedroom.
The door was slightly ajar, inviting Dirk to open it. What stopped him however, was the low, conspiratorial tone in which John was using. A few snatches of wheezy giggles were heard here and there as well. Like he was talking to someone familiar.
Before Dirk could properly listen in, John’s conversation had abruptly ended.
The guys musta caught wind of him standing there. Ninja skills sadly pale in comparison to havinging breath sensing abilities. It was a minor irritation though; Dirk enjoyed a good game of wits and John knew this well.
First things first; Dirk needed to uncover the identity of whoever was on the phone with John and do a little pressing. The first and most obvious person to interrogate/bribe was Dave, John’s number one target for wrangling into his schemes. Jade was second only because she has the good sense to actually say ‘no’ to John sometimes. Pleading baby blues be damned.
“Approximately two days ago, I heard you and John conspiring over the phone.” Dirk accuses.
“What? Dude, I haven’t called John all week, we’ve only texted. Things had been all kinds of balls to the wall busy over here.”
“Why do I not believe you?”
“Look, not all of us have our robo-slaves out and about doing shit for their “benevolent” masters. Business has been booming and Karkat’s been pulling his hair out over helping the Mayor pick out his new office wallpaper. Gotta respect the Mayor’s mad discerning tastes when it comes to his place of employment. I’m just gonna book the AI uprising into my schedule. How’s the next century do for you? I should just time travel us all forward to skip past that inevitable cliched fuckfest.” Dave smacks his forehead.“Oh shit.”
Dirk quirks an eyebrow.
“You alright?”
Dave nods,
“Yeah, I just forgot about my little past rendezvous with Karkles. Gotta go get the money and give-”
Dave lets out a curse before he falls on top of the coffee table and lands with an “ omph !”. The table doesn't break under Dave’s weight, but he certainly got the wind knocked out of him.
Dirk can’t hold back the laugh that comes up from his diaphragm.
Karkat pokes his head out from the kitchen. “What fuck happened, can’t the two of you be left alone for more than five minutes without one of you breaking shit for attention?”
“What’s up?” John says as he takes a peek into the living room.
He soaks in both Strider brothers, mostly Dave’s ass and feet jutting up into the air. Without another word he laughs and turns back into the kitchen.
Karkat pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath.
“Dirk, could you?”
“No problem” Dirk chuckles.
He reaches over in order to untie Dave’s tangled shoelaces and helps his ecto-son to his feet.
Dave grumbles out a ‘Thanks’ while he tries to smooth his shirt and adjust his pants. He is somewhat successful, but still looks a little bit raggled.
Those retcon powers, man. Shit is deudly. Although, Dirk thinks, it’s probably Dave’s own fault for wearing his fucking shoes inside. His Beta self can’t be blamed for the other Strider not out growing that particular habit. Probably.
Schooling his expression back into blank stoicism, Dirk rests a hand on Dave’s shoulder
“Remember when you asked me about my secret for controlling a certain windy nerd’s pranksterisms?”
With a grunt, Dave folds his arms and raises an eyebrow.
Dirk milks the pause between them for dramatic effect. In the background John and Karkat can still be heard chatting amicably from the kitchen, the white noise almost soothing. Something warm blooms pleasantly within Dirk’s chest.
He smirks.
“That's my secret Dave; I don't.”