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And thus marks another successful college exam, the end of another semester, and the almost-end to another year. Walking off of campus that cold day felt freeing and light, like it has for the past few semester exams. Your classes have never been super difficult, but exams are always stressful, and you are grateful for the coming holiday break, which you are planning on spending at home, in your apartment, doing nothing but watching shitty movies with your boyfriend and sleeping.
Except for holidays and stuff, because you have at least 3 gatherings to attend, plus you have to decorate for Christmas/ 12th Perigee’s Eve which is always an adventure. In short, it’s going to be a fun break. (Except for when you have to work, but let’s not think about that right now.)
This is the first break you’ll have in your apartment, considering you’ve lived on campus for the last 2 years of college and moved in just a few months (perigees) ago. And the first one living with your boyfriend. That idea makes you feel all fuzzy inside, which is totally cool and all, but you really aren’t up for blushing in public, so you try to ignore the happy bubbles in your stomach.
It’s cold outside, but snow hasn’t started falling yet, which is perfectly fine; the streets look gross with slush on them anyway. You meander your way to your apartment building, which is luckily pretty close to the south side of campus, and manage to enter the lobby before your hands freeze off. (You’re too cool for mittens.) You wave at the nice old lady that’s always sitting down here, doing her knitting, and head up to your floor via the elevator, thinking about when you should go Christmas present shopping. You know what you’re getting for John already; you’ve had your eye on this one particularly egregious pair of pyjama pants with little emojis on them and you plan on buying them for him for ironic purposes. He’d probably wear them unironically, and that’s what’s really great about that guy.
You open up your apartment door and you’re met with darkness. Karkat must not be done with his exams yet. When did he say he was going to be done? You glance at the clock. You’ve probably got a good few hours to watch one of your shows, one of the ones he refuses to watch with you. He won’t get mad like he did when you finished The Good Place without him. That was a pillow fight to behold.
You throw your backpack into your shared bedroom, not to be touched again until the start of the spring semester. Changing into pjs, you plop yourself on the couch in the main room with your laptop to binge something.
You spend 20 minutes scrolling through Netflix before you pick something, and you fall asleep with your laptop on your chest and your headphones over your ears. You don’t wake up until the door to your apartment opens and slams shut.
You look up from the couch, shades abandoned on the coffee table (read; strategically placed storage totes), to see a very grumpy Karkat dropping his backpack on the kitchenette counter and stomping towards your bedroom.
Sitting up, you throw an arm over the back of the couch, watching him as he slams the bedroom door shut.
“Uh, Karks,” you call, shutting your laptop, “Y’alright, dude?”
“I’m fucking fantastic, thanks for asking,” he grumbles, the voice muffled by the door. Not that you’ve ever had any trouble hearing him, through a door or otherwise. He’s loud as fuck.
You move over to stand outside the door, knocking a little beat into the white-painted wood. “That doesn’t sound fucking fantastic, my guy,” you start, “In fact, that sounds fucking terrible. Downright horrible. Abso-fucking-lutely attrocious. Completely and utterly-”
“Shut the fuck up,” he interrupts, opening the door with a quick yank. Karkat glares at you from under his messy hair, much more messed up than usual, presumably from running his hands through it during his tests. He’s also changed into pjs, but he looks totally ready to pass out and not wake up for three years.
He’s glaring at you, but you kind of get lost in the fact that he’s really close to you. Like, realllllllly close. Your face gets all hot and you know you look red as hell, but he must not notice because he moves around you towards the coffee pot. After your stomach stops doing Olympic-level tricks and flips, you hop up on the counter next to where Karkat is standing.
“Alright, I was really close to believing you on the whole being-alright thing, but making coffee at 3 pm?” You fold your arms, raising one eyebrow at Karkat’s staring contest with the coffee filters, “That’s what broke the deal, man. Deal or No Deal, but it’s just guessing if you’re feeling okay based on how much coffee you’ve consumed before noon. Which I know is a lot because you took, like, 3 of our travel mugs today. I’m pretty sure consuming more caffeine now is going to end your troll system, I don’t care how strong you are.”
Karkat looks at you with disdain, then leans his head on the top of the coffee maker, closing his eyes. “Exams are terrible and everything is terrible and I want to sleep for the next 48 hours and not think about my dumb anatomy teacher and her stupid impossible diagrams with smugged lines and unclear images.”
You hum in agreement, having heard your fair share of complaints about that teacher. “I’m sure you did fine, Karkles.”
“Yeah, sure,” he says, pushing the brew button. He sounds like he doesn’t believe you. He probably doesn’t believe you. It’s kind of difficult to get Karkat to believe in a compliment or anything like that, but he’s a lot better now. In times of stress, however, he never totally believes you.
You can totally relate to that sentiment.
“What to watch a movie or something?” you ask, “We still have to finish ER, too.” You hope to god he picks ER, because if he picked a movie, you’d have to watch 50 First Dates again. As much as you love Karkat, you really aren’t a big fan of his movies. And you know that 50 First Dates is his go-to comfort flick, so you’ve seen it more than a few times.
“I don’t really wanna do anything,” Karkat says, half pouting. This is a surprise to you.
“Really? Not even a shitty movie?”
“Yes, really, and they’re not shitty movies!”
You put your hands up in defeat, hopping off the counter. You move to grab your laptop, expecting to check emails or something when an idea pops into your head.
“Hey,” you turn to Karkat, who was in the middle of pouring a mug of coffee (the mug said “world’s okayest nursing student,” a gift you got him last year), “do you want to go get dinner?”
“It’s 3 in the afternoon.”
“Well, not now, of course. But when’s the last time we’ve gone out?”
Karkat considers your statement for a moment before shrugging. “We don’t usually have time between classes and work.”
“Exactly!” You kind of really like this idea. “I know you’re in a grumpy mood, but I feel like doing something to distract you from your exams is good for you.” You grab your laptop and headphones, plugging them in to their chargers on the counter as you talk. “You gotta remember that your exams are done right now, dude. Worrying about them now isn’t going to do anything.”
“I know that.”
“But you know what is worth worrying about?”
He raises an eyebrow at you, his face much more soft than it was just a few moments ago.
“Breadsticks.” You grin.
“Oh my god,” he groans, rolling his eyes. There’s a faint hint of smile on his face, meaning you’re doing great, keep up the good work Strider.
“So?”
Karkat gives you a small smile from behind his coffee mug. “Yeah, fine, we can go out somewhere.”
You whoop in triumph, whipping out your phone to look for local restaurants. Like Karkat said, you two don’t really go out a whole lot, considering school and work. You’ve been back home to your friends and family, but they live on the south side of the city, so you really don’t know what’s up here on the northside.
You spend the next few hours chilling out on the couch, Karkat scrolling through his phone, snuggled securely under a blanket, you also scrolling through restaurants and memes, leaning on the blanket lump Karkat has transformed into.
You do manage to find a local, family-owned place, just a few blocks over from your apartment. It looks cute and it has some dope looking nachos on the website, so you’re pretty much sold.
When you point out the place, Karkat takes your phone and starts investigating the website like he’s some kind of detective or something.
“What are you looking for?”
He scrunches up his nose, which you think is absolutely adorable, but you manage to hold back your gay thoughts enough to hear his response. “They don’t have a single grub-related thing on their menu.”
“You don’t always eat grub-related things.”
“Yeah, but most restaurants have at least a shitty salad or something. It’s just weird.” He looks like he’s about to continue, but he must decide against it.
“But look at these nachos, man.”
“Those do look pretty good.”
You smile at him, and he smiles back, so that basically confirms your selection. You don’t leave for a little while, which is fine because you are both totally content with just chilling out. You talk about Christmas trees and 12 Perigee’s Eve decorations and what Kanaya was planning for the troll side of the friend group for their holiday season and if you should host anything at your apartment, which you decide against. It’s all very domestic and the more you think about how normal this feels, the warmer your chest feels and the less you want to move by the time it’s time to head out.
It’s not a fancy restaurant by all means, so neither of you try to look more presentable than you would for classes. T-shirts, jeans, sneakers, coats, and Karkat actually convinces you to wear a hat since you’re going to walk. You manage to get out of mittens in favor of pockets, but he doesn’t look particularly pleased at the idea.
It’s starting to get a little bit darker now, since it’s always a little but darker in the winter, and the city skyscrapers look almost ethereal when haloed with the light blues and purples of the sky. It still hasn’t snowed, thank god, but you kind of can’t wait for the snowflakes, for several romantic and sappy reasons which make you feel very gross and mushy. It’s great.
You manage to get to the restaurant without getting run over by a car or trampled by pedestrians, and it turns out to be a very cute place. The awning that stretches over the sidewalk has several tables set underneath it, but that appears to be closed for the season. The whole place has a green and woodgrain theme, with several of those white, suburban mom quotes in calligraphy hanging on decorative signs that you can see on the walls when you peer through the large front windows.
You curl your cold fingers around Karkat’s mittened hand and pull him inside, eager to get out of the cold and to eat something. You realize that all you had that day was a granola bar between exams and you deeply regret that. You make a note to address your eating habits over the break.
You walk up to the little host stand (which is just a big wooden barrel, how cute) and ask the hostess there for a spot for two. She smiles at you, then at Karkat, who was just now taking off his hat, and her face falls into a frown.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, so I’m going to have to turn you away,” she says, in a very obviously-scripted but condescending tone. You recognize the host from the website; she might have been the owner’s daughter or something? You aren’t sure. That’s not the point here.
“What?” You are a little confused by her statement. You tilt your head, wondering if you two should have spent more time picking better coordinating outfits or something.
You feel Karkat’s hand latch onto your arm, and you turn to him. He’s frowning, but pointedly looking away from the host and from you. “Let’s just go.”
“Why?” You ask, still legitimately confused. “Did we miss the dress code or reservations or something?”
Karkat doesn’t say anything, and he turns to leave. You recognize the hunch in his shoulders as a look of defeat. He doesn’t look at you when he says, “They don’t serve trolls here, let’s just leave.”
It clicks very suddenly, and you find yourself getting mad. “What the fuck does that mean? Why not?”
The host, who was obviously having a good time with this, turns to you with the most innocent face and says, “As a privately owned business, we have the legal right to turn away anyone who we deem as supporting something that violates our beliefs as a family.” She smiles at you, and she might be a kind person but god if you didn’t hate her right now.
You might have freaked the fuck out, but Karkat’s hand is back on your arm, and you slip back into the patented Strider Poker Face™. You don’t say anything as you leave the building, making sure to keep Karkat’s hand in your own.
As soon as you’re outside however, you get mad. Mad at the stupid law that makes Karkat feel unwelcome. Mad at people who still think Alternian culture is bad. Mad at how you missed the signs that this would happen. Mad that you didn’t even think to check that. You’ve lived mostly humans your entire life, so you’ve never been turned away like that.
Karkat looks utterly destroyed. His grumpy demeanor is back, hat pulled back over his nubby horns and wild hair, and when you look longer, you think you see tears welling up in his eyes.
“This is stupid, let’s just go home,” he says, staring at his shoes. You feel terrible. You rushed into this without the right research, this is your fault.
“I’m sorry,” you say as you both start walking back. You don’t really know what to say or where to start.
He sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s fine, I should have known. It’s really my fault for not checking. I’m sorry you have to accommodate me like that, I really don’t mind if you go, I can just go home.”
You feel offended. “Accommodate you? Dude, no, that’s not it at all! I’m not going into that place again! Who the fuck just rejects making money like that? It’s their fault for being stupid, not you for existing, man.” You still feel bad for not knowing in the first place, but this is more of a lesson for you and less of a chance to shame yourself.
Karkat rubs at his eyes again. “I really don’t want to cry right now,” he says quietly, basically talking into his coat. You know he’s pretty sensitive about his blood color (not that you totally understand that) and you know he just dodged your comfort, so you decide to change the subject.
“Okay, since those dumbasses are going to be that way, do you want to go home and just order something? Watch a shitty movie or play video games,” you glance over at Karkat and his upset is making his eyebags more prominent, “or just sleep, you know.”
He sighs, glad to have something else to focus on. “Yeah, that’s fine. We can keep playing Fable if you want.”
You let go of his hand in favor of wrapping an arm around Karkat’s shoulders, jostling him as you walked. “Hell yeah, pizza and shitty XBox games sound like a better date than I’ve ever been on. The Louvre of dates. The Mona Lisa, which is also in the Louvre. This isn’t going anywhere, but you get the picture.” You managed to get a snort of laughter out of the troll and you start to feel better.
In conclusion, fuck all that noise. You manage to order some nachos (nice), beat the next few missions on Fable II (which a very frustrated but smiling Karkat as a sidekick), and set up a sweet as hell pile of blankets in front of the couch so you can watch movies to fall asleep. You nod off with Karkat’s horns poking into your jaw and his fluffy hair tickling your nose, warm and content.