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“John?” You thought you were here for a date.
Instead, John is standing in front of the bathroom, taping Saran Wrap at head height. You aren’t even remotely surprised (or disappointed that he wasn’t planning a cute date or even some makeouts, nope, not at all).
John glances up from you, grins, then looks back to his work. “Hey Karkat! What brings you here? Think I can get my dad with this?” He asks, closing and opening the door a few times to make sure that the Saran Wrap would hold.
You eye him. “I think you’ll probably run into it yourself, considering your simple-mindedness kept you from even remembering that we had a date planned tonight. But nope, the memory of that notion must have dripped right the fuck out of your brain and ear canal. Shame on fucking you, John, shame on you.”
John blinks, then turns bright red. “Aw shit. We did, didn’t we?”
You frown. Not that you’re mad, you’re just kind of…
Okay. You’re upset. Pissed at him for not remembering. Today was kind of a big deal for you, okay? He had actually invited you over to his house for your first date since you first kissed the week before. You had been excited.
Now you’re just disappointed.
“Aw, Karkat, shit. I didn’t mean-” he cuts off, and you notice that he looks legitimately distressed, like he really does feel horrible that he forgot. He steps towards you, dropping the tube of Saran Wrap in favor of reaching for your hand.
You step back.
His face falls. “Karkat?”
“John.”
“You’re not already…you’re not going to say we can’t date now, right?” You get why he worded it the way he did. You don’t even know if you’re dating. You just know that it was really nice kissing him that one time, he said he didn’t care about calling himself straight when he was thirteen, and he had asked if you could do it again soon.
You really want to kiss him again. So much that even the thought practically summons back the taste of his lips against yours. Fuck. You can’t stay mad at this idiot. Not when he’s legitimately sorry.
“Maybe,” you say anyway, and the way he bites his lip, he can’t tell that you plan on dating the fuck out of him. “Are you going to be worth the trouble your inferior self oh-so-obviously is?”
He looks distressed. It’s cute. “Come on, Karkat! Let me prove it to you, or something. I know you liked kissing me and…I really liked that night too, okay?”
“You want me to let you prove yourself to me?”
“Yeah.” He looks so hopeful.
“Come over here and prove it to me, then.” It’s a challenge. It’s such a challenge, you look him right in the eyes, and he shivers because he totally gets what you mean.
He steps closer, and this time you let him. You close your eyes as he cups your face in his hands.
His lips meet yours, and you can’t help the soft noise you make before your arms are around his neck and you’re kissing him back. He’s wonderful and beautiful and you don’t even care that he forgot you were coming over due to a shitty prank, because that’s just John. And because he’s John, he’ll make it up to you. Like he is right now.
Mmmmm. His hands are running along your sides, holding you close, and he has managed to kiss you far more than stupid in the past few minutes.
When you finally part, he licks his lips, and you flush even more than you already were. “So,” he says, voice slightly hoarse from kissing you. “Was that good? Do I get to date you now?”
You think about it for a moment, purposely mulling over it to watch him fidget, just a little bit longer. Okay, so you’re still a little upset at him. But you think you’ve gotten him back enough now, and also you can’t bring yourself to hesitate longer.
“Of course, Egbert,” you tell him, rolling your eyes and lightly kissing him again. “Just try to remember our dates in the future, okay?”
“Okay,” he promises, grinning.
He means it, too. Maybe next time he’ll plan you something extra special.
Or you can just distract each other from movies with kisses. Both seem like pretty good ideas.