Work Text:
Dave is kind of fucking neurotic, and as an admittedly kind of fucking neurotic guy yourself, you get it. You’re obsessive about all your clothes being the pitchest black perceivable by human and troll ganderbulbs, and being within five feet of a small space has you paranoid out of your pan that you’re magically going to fall on your ass and wind up trapped in it. Dave is a pathological weirdo about keeping the hive’s temperature near freezing, and in groups he only stands in spots where no one can look at him without him knowing.
There are a buttload of idiosyncrasies ricocheting left and right off the Dave and Karkat household walls, a buttload as big as the buttload belonging to a certain gun-wielding, rotund asscheek-having earth-C celebrity, probably.
But there’s one Dave idiosyncrasy in particular to blame for the fact that the pockets of your oversized sweatshirt are currently stuffed to the brim with food in preparation for tonight’s group hangout. That idiosyncrasy being, Dave is a really, really fucking picky eater.
You’ve never talked about it with him, but your own research has led you to the conclusion that only having access to the same shitty, miniscule selection of junk food your entire adolescence probably doesn’t have a lot of great effects long term. Dave’s body doesn’t process shit right, not to mention it’s clear he fucking despises almost every new dish forced his way. Well, it’s clear to you now at least.
It took you almost a year of being off that dank meteor and around a hell of a lot more humans and food options to realize it’s not just troll food that Dave accepts out of politeness and then pushes around on his plate before discreetly dumping it. The majority of human foods get dumped too. It didn’t take you much longer to realize it’s something that Dave is embarrassed about. It’s just kind of painful to watch, so tonight you’re actually doing something about it.
You and Dave enter the clearing where everyone is gathered around a fire pit. You try and fail to hold back a grin at the way that everybody seems genuinely excited to see you. Roxy smiles at you big and Dirk claps you on the back and Jade pulls you in for the hug that leaves you feeling winded in a nice way. You shove your hands deep into your pockets and scowl when John holds his hand out for a handshake, causing him to laugh even harder than he probably would have if you actually did shake hand and get zapped by his stupid hand zapper prank thingy.
You and Dave keep to yourselves most of the time, citing movie night plans or general reclusiveness as excuses. Hanging out with everyone you’ve ever known at the same time probably wouldn’t be something you’d bend over backward to make happen, but whenever you’re at one of these things, it ends up being really, really nice. You watch the small smile on Dave’s face as he listens to a story Rose and Kanaya are telling animatedly, and you know he thinks so too.
Dirk tells everyone to sit down, but only you and Terezi hear him, so then Terezi shouts for everyone to sit down. This is the first hangout planned by Dirk. Of fucking course it was planned by Dirk because why else would you be meeting in the middle of the woods at dusk.
You grab some food from the table full of mostly human shit you only kind of recognize, and watch Dave as he eyes the food but ultimately just stands around, doing his best to look natural until you’re ready to go sit on the perimeter of the group circle with him.
That’s how you know he’s embarrassed. At these gatherings, the food provided is never one of the eight to nine food items that Dave can stomach, and he never says anything. He actually does the opposite, and tries to draw as little attention to it as possible. He just won’t eat, sometimes for a few hours around dinner time, sometimes all day depending on the event of choice.
It makes you so mad, or sad, or something. It’s just fucking stupid is what it is. It’s not stupid that he’s picky or that he’s embarassed. It’s just stupid that he sometimes doesn’t eat when neither of you have had such an abundance of food in your whole life.
Apparently, Dirk spearheading this event means that Roxy, Jane, and Jake are the entertainment for the night, and that entertainment comes in the form of an awful, awful... play? The best your pan can approximate, Jake is heroically mowing down evil creatures played by Roxy and Jane while Dirk serenades the audience with an acoustic song about Jake’s various nubile features. It’s completely bizarre.
Everyone’s brains are busy being traumatized by the offensive spectacle that is Jake English flexing his ass cheeks and hitting Roxy with a long stick while they writhe on the grass, so you tug on Dave’s sleeve and lean in a little. “Hey, I brought you some stuff.”
“Stuff? Wha…?” he trails off as you pull out two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches of your own shitty creation, some chips, and a few bottles of apple juice. “Oh, uh. Oh my gosh. Haha. You. Wow. Um.”
And then he just shuts up and stares at the tiny piles between his and your thighs and it occurs to you, as it sometimes does in these inappropriately frequent embarrassing moments of clarity, that you’re not his fucking lusus and maybe he doesn’t want you acting like you are.
You babble as quietly as you can to fill the awkward moment, “So I know you know you normally go for the barbeque chips because of the way the tang contrasts exquisitely with the smooth sweetness of the apple juice, or whatever the fuck you’re always going on about, but they were out, and I know you settle for the regular potato in a situation like that, because the salt still provides enough pizzazz to create variation, so I got the potato instead. I hope that’s fine.”
You were going for some lighthearted mockery about his ridiculously detailed spiels regarding chip and apple juice combos, but it kind of came out like you’re doting and obsessed enough to have his every opinion memorized word for word. Like some kind of weirdo. The two of you are just friends. Why do you always get ahead of yourself and act like you’re more.
Dave looks back to you for a second, and you can’t quite make out what the line of his mouth means. The best you can come up with is contemplative. You look down and pick at the sleeve of your sweatshirt.
Dave reaches down for a sandwich, unwraps it, and takes a bite.
You’re past the point of spiraling into insecurity and self loathing every time Dave’s a little quieter than usual. Even if you do manage to minorly piss him off, you mostly know that he probably won’t realize you’re a fuckup and leave you forever to go be best friends with someone more deserving.
Still, seeing him eat the thing you made for him loosens something in your chest. And then Dave scoots closer to you so that your shoulders are touching and your chest tightens right back up in a different, warm way.
You sort of watch the performance, but you mostly watch Dave. He swallows down his last bite, and still doesn’t say anything. He collects all the trash and shoves it into his camera bag, and then goes back to watching.
After a minute or two, he leans close. “You know, Dirk has actually been composing this song for months,” he says, and then cracks a smile.
“Oh my fuck, is this the project you’ve been his sounding board for this whole time. You’re saying you’ve sat through this entire shit show multiple times?
“I’m not saying he begged me to dress up like Jake and pose in various swashbuckling stances to get the inspiration flowing, but he totally did. It’s amazing that Dirk thinks this whole thing is ironic, therefore completely obscuring his superhuman lust for Jake, but it’s actually just the culmination of his most sincere desires.”
You laugh. “Did you pose in the swashbuckling stances for him?”
“Hey, I had to help a brother out.”
He bumps his shoulder against yours.
The rest of the night goes really, really well. Dave seems happy, and that makes you happy.
He lets himself get pulled into the incomprehensibly chaotic performance around act 9, and Roxy grabs him by the hands and swings him around to a verse about Jake’s calf muscles, and then Dave pulls Rose in and they swing around to a verse about the crevice above Jake’s clavicle.
Jade sits next to you and you catch up for a little and it’s nice, but eventually the conversation dies and you both watch transfixed as Dave jokes and laughs, looking relaxed and content, and you wonder if she knows how much you love him, because you couldn’t imagine anyone not loving him when they have the honor of seeing him like this.
You make Dave wait until everyone disperses before he scoops you up to fly you home, because no one else is allowed to see you looking so undignified.
Dave floats home lazily, chattering about the night, and you struggle to keep your eyes open. Dave’s chest is so warm. You know you look like an idiot, but you also know that Dave doesn’t care.
He doesn’t put you down until you’re in your living room, where he plops you on the couch.
“I’m gonna shower,” he says.
“Night,” you say sleepily, definitely too late for him to hear.
Despite your tiredness, you eventually find the willpower to slink off the couch and head to your block to put on pajamas. Right as you’re slipping a t-shirt over your head, there’s a soft knock at your door.
“Come in!’ you shout.
Dave pokes his head in. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Could.” Dave says that single word as if it were a complete sentence with all the parts of speech and everything.
“Could?”
Living with Dave is so funny sometimes, like you’ll just be standing in the middle of your room in a t-shirt and boxers having inscrutable conversation at 1 in the morning.
“Could I- in your bed?”
You notice that his hair is still wet and dripping from the shower.
“Of course, yeah, just uh,” you toss him a towel that was hanging from one of your dresser knobs. “Here.”
He runs it over his hair.
Dave sometimes sleeps in your bed after bad days, but never good days. You wonder what’s up.
Dave gingerly slips into bed and you follow suit. You nestle into your pile of blankets, adjusting and pulling at them until they’re just right, and then you settle in.
Dave stays upright against the bed frame, staring into the dimly lit room. You watch him sleepily, waiting to see if he’ll talk. The lamp light illuminates the slope of his nose and edge of his jaw from behind and he looks gorgeous.
“Hey uh, Karkat?” he finally says
“What is it?” You respond, immediately leaning toward him in attentiveness.
“So well, earlier you, with the food. You brought me food. Food that I like. And I didn’t even say anything, you just knew and um.”
You stare, basically enraptured like the fucking little bitch you are.
He takes a deep breath and then barrels on, glancing at you before quickly redirecting his gaze back ahead.
“I just wanted to say that I really appreciate everything you do for me, and it means a lot that you would do that, I mean it’s crazy that anyone would do that.”
“No, Dave it’s-”
“And it’s just so unreal that there are people in my life that care about me. And l-love me. I just never thought-”
Dave sniffles, swipes the back of his hand across his eyes.
“Karkat, I don’t even know how to thank you. I never thought someone would like me enough to do even a fraction of what you do for me every day.”
An actual tear slips out of Dave’s eye and it makes you want to scoop him up and put on his favorite movie and kiss it all better, but you just sit and watch and let him get it out of his system like you know he needs to.
“It’s so fucking stupid, but you make me feel so loved and I. Oh my god don’t look at me.” Dave pulls his knees up to himself and leans his head on them and starts full on crying.
You scramble up out of your pile and move close to him.
“Dave! Oh my god. Are you okay? Jesus.”
You lean close to him, but don’t make a move to touch him, just in case. He’s stifling sobs through tight lips as he tries to collect himself to say more.
“We can hug… if you want.” He says and you instantly wrap your arms around him.
“So in conclusion,” he continues with a pathetically weak voice that makes you squeeze him even tighter, “Karkat I- I love you so much. I just feel like I have to say it. I don’t mean- I mean I’m not trying to talk about like. What ever unspoken fucking relationship we have. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I just wanted to say that, you’re. Probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
You squeeze him awkwardly from the side and he leans into you.
“I love you too,” you whisper. You’ve never meant anything more in your life. “I’ll make you shitty peanutbutter sandwiches anytime you want Dave.”
“Thanks.”
“You should lay down,” you say, because you don’t know what else to say, as much as you wish you did.
You both sink down into bed and Dave moves close to you. You wrap your arms around him and whisper goodnight.