Work Text:
Your name is DAVE STRIDER and you work at a RECORD STORE. Too bad there’s so many CUSTOMERS today because you’d love to slip away from work to go get a COFFEE. Finally, it’s time for your lunch and you’re only, oh, about an hour late for it? What the fuck are people coming out to a record store in goddamn droves for anyway? It’s fuckin’ dumb as shit and you don’t really get it. The only good thing about it is that they pay you pretty decently, which is saying a lot since you sit on your ass most of the day.
You clock out in the backroom for lunch and take the three minute walk down the strip-mall you work at over to the coffee shop on the corner. It’d be a lie if you said the only reason you were here was for coffee and totally not for your favorite, cute barista just happens to be working when you do. Nah, seeing him is a total coincidence and you totally don’t make excuses just to see him or anything. Nope, no sir. You’d never do that ‘cuz you’re way cooler than this passive bullshit.
The door gives off a pleasant jingle sound and swings open easily, nearly hitting you in the ass on your way out since you’re too busy eyeballing the counter. He’s not looking at you at first, but you’d recognize that head of fluffy brown curls anywhere. When he finally sees you, he does his usual scowl at you. You give him a smile, the two of you are friends… well, as friendly as someone can be with their barista. “Oh, it’s you. Hello again Dave,” he sneers with the barest hint of a smirk on his lips. “What kind of sloppy fucking excuse for coffee will it be today?”
"Dude, you know I only get the best coffee," you smile at him, crossing your arms against your chest. "It better be French press quality or better... or else I’ll sue, dude, I swear I will. I ain’t payin’ no premium price for that shit either."
He blinks at you, as if surprised. "I’m sorry but are you... mentally alright? I mean, let's be goddamn real here, you never were. You know we don't give special treatment unless you pay extra for that shit." He rolls his eyes at you, crossing his arms and huffing a little breath of annoyance. "So you're paying for premium, actually good coffee today? I'm goddamn shocked. The real Dave Strider must have actually died and you're some freak wearing his skin like a fancy little suit to a circus show for dumbfucks and idiots to sit at and gawk openly at the freak show in front of me."
"Yes, I am. Y'know, I prefer my beans to be slow-roasted over an open fire in the little spinning cage thing. I mean, that's my favorite method. I find that the body of it is spectacular, practically music to the goddamn ears. It's like listening to Iron and Wine on an Audiotechnica turntable," you ramble, remembering bits and pieces from obsessive Googling and late night strides on Wikipedia. Hey, if you wanna talk shop, you're down. "But anyway, I usually grind my beans myself because I find that pre-ground beans don't extract as well as freshly ground. I, myself, own an antique Hario pour-over and I only use papers made from 100% recycled hemp materi--"
He reaches across and puts his hand over your mouth, "Dude, shut the fuck up and order your coffee before I pour it in your lap, got it? I don't give a shit how underground and handmade your homemade shit is, I care about what you order right the fuck now. If you don't pick, I'm picking for you and I promise that I'll make you the most bitter, most hated coffee in the whole shop and take a shit in the cup. I won't even wipe it out, Dave, that's how disgusting it'll be; literal shit coffee. So, that being said , are you ordering or not ?"
"Damn Karkat, you wanna shit on me? That's kinda hot," you joke, muffling into his hand until he rips it away in disgust.
You give him your coffee order, a simple pour-over medium roast coffee with a bit of oat milk in it. He seems irritated that even after all of your bullshitting, you ordered something so simple. Swiping your car on the reader he holds out, you pay for it and watch him as he waits for the machine to print out the receipt, handing it off to you. Karkat gives you a raised eyebrow, but doesn't say anything else. Oh well, you guess now it's time to break out that line you've been saving for just such a shitty situation, if you smell what you’re stepping in and you do since you’re you.
As he walks off to work on your order, you walk over to the bar area to watch him while he works. "What?" He asks, focusing on the kettle of water in his hands as he pours it over the coffee grounds. He looks down to watch as the coffee blooms and waits. Now is finally your chance.
"Baby--," you give him a big dumb smile and pause as his eyes flick up to yours, "--I just shit my pants, can I get in yours?"
His face crumples and he sticks his tongue out, making a comical gagging noise, "What the fuck is wrong with you? You're disgusting, you know that?!"
You point at him with your left hand and lean onto the counter with your right arm supporting you, "Hey, you fuckin' started it, shit-for-brains."
"Hey Dave," he gets your attention as you settle down from laughing at your own disgusting joke. You look up at him as he makes direct eye contact with you, face trained in a very serious look. "Are you a public toilet? Because you're full of shit and you smell like my asshole."
Squinting at him, you think of a reply. "Are you my carpet? Because I'd love to let my dog rub his asshole all over you."
He slams down the gooseneck kettle which you hope is empty, "You know, if I wasn't trying to be professional, I'd shit down your throat and shake you to make a shit milkshake. And besides that, you don't even have a dog! I'm calling you out on your bullshit, Dave. Take your bougie ass coffee and sit your ass down at my counter." He picks up the mug and hands it to you, he even pre-sweetened it just like you like it to be. That's kinda gay of him to remember that, but you're not gonna mention that though ‘cuz he probably already knows how homo that is.
Now seems like a good time to act even more like a dumbass, you guess. You’re already this far, ain’t ya? Picking up your mug, you lift it to your lips, quickly gulping down as much as you can. It burns the inside of your mouth, but you can't stop. This shit means war. Literal shit. It's a shitshow in here and you're about to beef that shit up to eleven. You look directly at Karkat, not pausing for breath as you chug. His eyes focus on you as he waits for you to stop, but when it becomes clear that you're not going to, he gets a worried look on his face.
"Dave, you're going to--," he starts to say, putting his hand up to stop you.
You swat at him, making an angry grunting noise, half aware that you sound like a caveman having an underwater seizure on the back of a dying whale. You're already this far in and you're not stopping even if you'll blister your mouth like someone shoving a curling wand into their asshole. Your lungs are crying out for breath so you quickly pause to inhale a little air but pick it right back up so quickly that you're certain Karkat doesn't see.
"Seriously, why are--," you swat at his hands again. "Stop swatting me! I'm going to kick your ass!"
You smirk into your coffee, spluttering a bit because you breathed a little in. But there's so little coffee left that you force yourself to guzzle the rest. After it's all down, you cough hard, feeling the liquid sloshing around and leaving your lungs. Oh dear god, what the fuck is wrong with you? You fucked up but you won’t admit it, gotta play it cool in front of Karkat. He shakes his head at you, clearly annoyed by your shenanigans.
"I fucking told you," he grumbles under his breath. "But nooooo, nobody ever listens to Karkat, do they? Least of all Dave Strider, Mr. fucking Know-It-All himself, am I right?"
You hack the rest of the liquid out of your lungs and give Karkat the closest approximation of bedroom eyes that you can muster behind your teary eyes. "B-baby, I want you to kiss it and make it alllll better," you shoot him a playful finger gun. He wavers in place, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "I'm full of vinegar, sweetpea."
"I... you- what? What does that even mean ? What the fuck is wrong with you?" He buries his face in his palms and turns away from you. You can just see a hint of warmth spreading across his features. Ohohoh, this is interesting. Your method of acting like a crackhead whose dabbling in meth for the first time is apparently working... fucking somehow. "I hate you so much. Don't joke around about that kind of thing."
"Oh?" You lean forward a little on your chair, catching his attention again. "Is that really hate that I see in your eyes, my fair barista? Why not say it to my face?"
Karkat sighs, deep and tired. He's put up with so much of your shit today that you wouldn't be surprised if he told you to get out. You wince, waiting for him to tell you to go fuckin' bother someone else... but the words don't come. Instead, he leans across the counter, until he's about a foot away from your face. "Look, you're blowing smoke up the wrong fucking chimney, dear Strider. Eat shit and die. Or you could maybe try flirting with me like a real man and not whatever this passive bullshit is."
Well, looks like it's your turn to be surprised. You look at him and give him a smile.
There's something about this moment that reminds you of a show you once saw when you were twelve. Thing is, you don't remember the name of it, but you do remember the giant shiny eyes on the characters and their impossibly thin arms and legs as well as their massive hands. Well, if this worked out in the show or anime or whatever, it'll work out in real life, right? Leaning forward, you pucker up your lips and find that he's starting to tilt toward you as well.
And with that, you surprise Karkat with a loving kiss on the lips.
Well... that's what you would do, if he didn't instead freak out and push your face away from him. Damn, maybe you’re just not as cool as the dudes from anime or it just doesn’t fuckin’ work like that in real life?
"Dave, what the fuck?! I- I'm at work ," he stamps his feet and hides his face in the fabric of his turtleneck sweater. "P-please don't take this the wrong way, but I need you to leave. Like, I need you to leave now ."
His face is desperate and pleading, which makes your stomach twist painfully with shame and guilt. You were so wound up with what you were up to that you forgot where the hell you are. Karkat sure as shit can't be seen flirting with a customer, much less kissing someone. If his boss was watching, your stunt just now could cost him his job. You get to your feet and frown, "I'm sorry... I wasn't thinking and--"
"Wait," he grabs the sleeve of your t-shirt and you turn to look at him. "I... will you-- call me, okay? Here--," he hits the little button on the printer and it spits out a piece of paper, which he tears off and scribbles something on, "--here's my number. I mean... if you want it?"
"Gay," you whisper under your breath and take the number from his hands, giving him a short nod of thanks and walk out of the door. You immediately collapse on your ass and press your back against the wall, reeling from the goddamn scene you decided to make in a goddamn coffee shop at two in the goddamn afternoon.
Pulling out your phone, you shoot a text to your boss and weave a lie about food poisoning and say that you need to go home and lie down. After that, you take a breath and save Karkat's number into your phone. He's probably owed an apology, above all things, honestly. Walking across the parking lot, you hop into your car and blast the music as loud as you can to drive out any racing thoughts about how much of a goddamn idiot you are. You fucked up so unbelievably badly and there's nothing in the fuckin' world that can fix it. All you can really do is hope that Karkat forgives you even though you absolutely don't deserve it.
Finally, you make it back home and shut your car off, heaving a sigh so deeply from your chest that it aches. It's honestly probably the coffee that you were gagging on, but if you think about that, then you'll go back to feeling guilty. You can't take another fuckin' second of it, so you take your phone out and try to compose an apology, but come up pretty much empty. It's no use... you can't stop thinking about his cute but sad face.
Goddamn son-of-a-bitch. He shouldn't be so cute and so-- arghhfhgjk. You wanna punch him in his stupid adorable face and make him suffer for being too beautiful. There's just something so attractive about the way his freckles stand out against his skin when he blushes that makes you freak out. You're too gay to function, it's official. It's only a matter of time before you explode too.
Before you do that, however, you make it into your apartment and immediately rip your pants off, discarding them onto the floor in your living room. After that's over, it's time for the dreaded apology text of doom. Gods help you, you're gonna make a fuckin' effort.
hey
You type but then quickly backspace it. That’s dumb.
im sorry about earlier
No… okay. You’re just going to get it all out and edit it later, if you need to.
its dave
sorry about earlier im like off the goddamn rocker today i guess/span>
i feel bad that i made you look like an idiot at work and you can totally ignore me from now on if you want to
i wouldnt blame you if you did cuz id deserve it for reals cuz i know i fucked up and i get it if you dont wanna be my friend anymore
im sure your boss woulda fired you on the goddamn spot but not before kicking my ass for assaulting the workers
i sorta earned prison time for that fuckin stunt i pulled anyway and well
i hope u dont get fired cuz like if you do ill go in for you and beg on my hands and knees to let you keep your job
im sorry
Okay, kind of sappy but it at least gets the message across. You should just hit send and see what happens. If you think about it too much, you won’t have the fuckin’ guts to do it so you just do it. Your thumb hovers dangerously over the send button… squeezing your eyes shut, you do it. Oh fuck. Maybe he hasn’t seen it yet… but it’s too late. You already see the little “read” receipt pop up on the screen.
You wait and wait for about an hour to see what Karkat has to say, but you've gotten nothing. Another twenty minute passes and it's more or less the same, meanwhile you are shitting your pants in fear that you fucked up so badly that he decided he doesn't want to talk to you. And anyway, you can do a better apology than that, can't you? It's not like you tried hard enough, so what's another message for him to read? Worst case scenario is that he ignores it and the best case scenario is that it works... so why not? You can apologize for rambling too much later.
hey its me again im just checking in to see if youre okay since you havent said anything
uh its cool if you want some more time for yourself like i totally get it
i am sorry for being weird i swear that wont happen again ok?
like genuinely actually sorry i probably wont bother you at work like that again and ill just pick up my shit from the drivethru if you want
You lock your phone, setting it on the table in front of you so you have some time to... well, you don't know. You didn't really make any plans for today since you expected to be working an eight hour shift today, so plans were kinda out of the question. There's some more time until whenever Karkat texts you back, you guess. Snatching your controller off of the table, you decide to get down and dirty with a little Fallout 4. You installed some super fucked up mods that make all of the characters look like Obama and that's great for a while. Sadly, it's only enough to keep you busy for a bit since you can only mow down so many feral ghouls in one hour before even you get bored of doing the same shit for too long.
Tapping your fingers on the coffee table, you pick your phone up and check your messages. Still nothing... Well, okay, a few more can't hurt. It's fine.
youre probably really busy at work and i must be annoying you im sorry
i can just wait for you to text me back if thats what you prefer
but damn dude dont they give you breaks there? lol
ive rambled a lot by now i know so like whatever
seriously i really dont feel like im being genuine even tho i said sorry about a billion times by now
i know im exaggerating lol
i always exaggerate too much and thats prob irritating
i uh
ill let you get back to work
As you get ready to set your phone down again, you see that Karkat is finally fucking typing. Holy shit! Okay, okay… don’t panic, Dave. Don’t panic. It’s totally cool and everything is-- who the fuck are you kidding? He’s been typing for too long to just be saying “I accept your apology” or whatever. Time to get real and face your new reality: Karkat fucking hates your guts and he’ll never forgive you ever.
UH. WOW. YOU, UH... YOU TYPED MORE THAN I EXPECTED YOU WOULD.
SO I GUESS IT'S MY TURN TO TYPE TOO MUCH TOO AND IRRITATE THE FUCK OUT OF THE BOTH OF US. THIS IS WHAT YOU GET: THIS IS YOUR PUNISHMENT FOR ACTING LIKE A MENTAL WARD ESCAPEE ON METH AND SUPER COKE. DON'T ASK ME WHAT SUPER COKE IS, I REFUSE TO EXTRAPOLATE.
BESIDES, I COULDN'T REPLY RIGHT AWAY BECAUSE I'LL GET IN TROUBLE IF I GET CAUGHT ON MY PHONE AT WORK. I COULD ONLY CHECK IT THE ONE TIME BUT WHEN I TRIED TO TYPE, MY BOSS WAS ON MY ASS LIKE BEANS IN A GRINDER. MY ASS WAS NEARLY DUST, DAVE. GETTING ME FIRED WOULDN'T BE VERY CASH MONEY OF YOU... SORRY, I DIDN'T MEAN THAT. I JUST WANTED TO SAY SOMETHING YOU'D UNDERSTAND IN A LANGUAGE ONLY YOUR DUMBASS CAN SPEAK AND SOMEHOW FORCE EVERYONE TO UNDERSTAND. BUT I REALLY DID ALMOST GET IN TROUBLE, SO PLEASE DON'T DEMAND AN IMMEDIATE ANSWER FROM ME, OKAY?
YOU APOLOGIZE TOO MUCH, DON'T DO THAT. I MEAN, THE ONLY REASON I TOLD YOU TO GET OUT IS BECAUSE I DON'T NEED MY COWORKERS STARING AT ME WHILE I'M TRYING TO... WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU PLANNED ON DOING IN THERE.
I'M NOT ACTUALLY THAT MAD AT YOU OR REALLY AT ALL? I THINK IF I'M MAD ABOUT ANYTHING, I'M MAD ABOUT YOU GULPING DOWN 99 FUCKING DEGREE CELSIUS COFFEE AND BURNING YOUR THROAT LIKE AN IDIOT. YOU CAN'T FLEX ON ME LIKE THAT, DAVE, IT'S JUST NOT POSSIBLE BECAUSE I DON’T GIVE EVEN THE SMALLEST MODICUM OF A SHIT ABOUT HOW QUICKLY YOU CAN SCORCH YOUR ESOPHAGUS.
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, BY THE WAY? LIKE GENUINELY HAVE YOU GONE COMPLETELY GODDAMN INSANE? DID SOMEONE REPLACE YOUR BRAIN WITH CARAMEL DRIZZLE? IS THAT WHY YOU WERE ACTING LIKE A DIPSHIT? YOU SHOULD GET SOME FUCKING HELP, MAYBE CHECK BACK INTO THAT MENTAL HOSPITAL BECAUSE YOU CLEARLY NEED IT.
YOU CAN REPLY IF YOU WANT TO, I CAN SEE THAT YOU'RE READING ALONG.
hey yeah i am
ok ok i wont apologize anymore lol i swear
YOU BETTER MEAN THAT. I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL BEAT YOUR ASS INTO DUST IF YOU DO IT AGAIN. PROMISE ME, ASSHOLE.
dude ok i mean it i PROMISE
SO... ALL THIS SHIT BEING SPEWED AND DONE AND SAID... I'D ASK IF YOU WANT TO GET A COFFEE BUT I CAN JUST GET YOU ONE FOR FUCKING FREE... SO...
if this is your way of asking me on a date then the answer yes
OH. OKAY. GOOD, YOU DID IT FOR ME.
its not the only thing i will do for you if you get me
YOU'RE A SICK FUCK. HOW ABOUT THAT ITALIAN PLACE... SAY, TOMORROW IF YOU'RE UP TO IT?
nice ok ill see you at six then
IT’S A DATE.