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You didn’t mean to fall asleep.
The movie you were watching was just...so boring. All those quadrant entanglements you didn’t quite understand, all that talking...
And...and maybe you hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in kind of a while, because this place is cold and and kind of scary, and your room is dark and lonely, and you know, maybe it really doesn’t help that this fucking rock keeps flying smack into these freaky dream bubbles populated by the ghosts of a bunch of trolls who can’t seem to shut the hell up, even in death? They all want to meet you, want to endlessly talk and hang out, and you just shrug and go along with it most of the time because it’s easier that way, but...then you wake up no more rested than when you first went to bed. There are dark circles starting to form under your eyes, for fuck’s sake.
And maybe the couch you were slouched down on with Karkat, watching that boring as hell movie, was weirdly comfy for such an ugly piece of furniture.
When you wake up, slowly, foggily, your head pillowed on Karkat’s thigh (how did that happen...?), the warmth of his hand on your shoulder is the first thing you notice. It’s resting there so very lightly, like he’s afraid you’ll wake up and freak the fuck out or something.
Not that you are. You’re not. You’re cool, god damn it.
So cool.
With all the coolness you can muster, you croak “um...”
He snatches his hand away, lightning-quick, before you can say anything else.
“You fell asleep,” he says, stating the obvious in that scratchy voice of his, and your brain sort of spinning-beach-balls, because...yeah, you knew that.
“Uh,” you say, intelligently.
You finally move away from him, then, sitting up and straightening your crooked shades. You wrap your cape around you, because without his warmth seeping into your skin you’re suddenly fucking freezing.
That’s when you realize that Karkat might be freaking the fuck out, actually. His face is all red, and he won’t quite look at you. He folds his legs up to his chest and hugs his knees and sort of stares into space as he says “you missed the end of the movie.”
“Sorry,” you say. “It turns out the siren call of my best bro’s inexplicably comfy leg was too much for me to resist, you know, in the face of hours upon hours of boring-ass dialogue about romance quadrangles?”
“It wasn’t hours,” he grumbles, but you aren’t done.
“Seriously though, that was kind of uncool and—I dunno, man, I don’t even know how that happened, I mean I know I was pretty tired but—”
“Dave, it’s—”
“—the insomnia thing is, uh, your thing, y’know, I’m not trying to steal your gimmick or whatever, dude. It’s just, you know. This place is...”
You trail off for a moment, and out of the corner of your eye you think you see him shudder.
“Yeah, exactly,” you say. “Besides, that’s not even taking into consideration all the straight-up exhausting nonsense we got to deal with every single day. I mean—Vriska alone is more than any one person can handle. Never mind the scary murder clown, or the evil chess dog that’s apparently chasing us, or the dream bubble horseshit shenanigans...nah, man. Vriska is definitely the worst thing out of all those things I just said.”
His sort-of snort in response is almost like laughter. You grin at him, and then the corner of his mouth turns up, like he’s fighting it—like he can’t help it—and, damn it, you have to admit it’s cute.
Anyone would have to admit it. It’s not—you’re not—
“Well,” he says, smothering his smile with his hand and glancing sort of...nervously? at the darkened screen of his husktop. “Uh. So. Good night, then, I guess.”
He hasn’t moved, so you take the hint and stand up from the couch. “Y-yeah. Night, dude.”
After a moment of hesitation you start toward the transportalizer, to make your way back to the room you’ve claimed as yours. You don’t dare to look back at Karkat. You think your face might be sort of red, too.
Four days go by until your next movie night.
It’s not like you and Karkat are avoiding each other. Well—it’s not like you’re avoiding him. Not...exactly.
Anyway, Terezi is the one who suggests it this time—Karkat isn’t even there, at first. You and Terezi and Vriska (ugh) and Kanaya agree to watch a movie to pass the time—they pick out some Alternian pirate flick, and after enduring so many of Karkat’s snoozefest romantic comedies it looks interesting enough to you.
Halfway through the third extended pirate ship battle sequence, just as you’re beginning to fall asleep against the arm of the couch, Karkat and Rose wander into the common room together and join you, plopping down onto the pile of pillows on the floor.
“Oh god, not this piece of shit,” Karkat groans. “This movie makes Wherein a banker takes his own life following the discovery of his matesprit’s affair with his moirail; supporting characters appear and disappear at random; several long tracking shots of a recognizable bridge look like classic cinema in comparison.”
For once, you find yourself agreeing with him.
“At least that one was weirdly sorta fun,” you mumble into your palm. No one seems to hear you.
“You’re so overdramatic, Karkat,” Terezi pipes up. “No movie deserves that comparison. Especially not this one!”
“Yeah, at least there’s cool shit that happens in this one,” Vriska adds. “All the movies you like are just a bunch of pretty people sitting around in their hives drinking leaf juice.”
“That is not even remotely a fair characterization of the romantic—”
You stop listening, because you don’t really care. You idly watch Rose’s face as she tries to surreptitiously watch Kanaya’s. You kinda can’t believe that Karkat’s stupid romcoms actually seem appealing to you right now, but somehow...they do. Vriska and Terezi are just straight-up wrong. This movie sucks. It’s tough to find even a shred of ironic enjoyment in it.
You suppose this is better than killing time alone in your depressing room, at least.
You mess around with your phone for a while, but then, tragically, the battery dies. Seating arrangements have changed while you weren’t paying attention—Karkat is now crammed between you and Kanaya on the couch, while everyone else is still sprawled out across the floor and on the pillow pile.
Kanaya and Rose are whispering about some nerdy book they’ve both read. Their body language is almost hilariously transparent, in your opinion—Kanaya is grinning hugely, leaned over with her elbows planted on her knees, and Rose is propped up on her elbows, craning her neck to look up at Kanaya. Bizarrely, Karkat’s got some opinions about the book, too, though he doesn’t seem to be capable of whispering. You wonder if you ought to elbow him in the ribs or something, ’cause he doesn’t seem to be getting the hint about Lesbian Book Club. And speaking of lesbians, Terezi and Vriska are actually being quiet for once—too absorbed in the climactic final battle on the open seas, you guess. You sigh.
When the movie finally ends, twenty or so minutes later, you don’t even realize it at first—you aren’t really watching anymore, just kinda spacing out. But then Karkat’s standing up in a hurry, rushing to replace the movie with one of his own.
There was no need for him to worry, though, as it turns out. There’s nobody competing for the TV anymore. Terezi and Vriska are already gone, running toward the transportalizer together, giggling and shoving one another.
Karkat takes his seat again, and you’re greeted by the all-too-familiar face of Troll Hugh Grant. Hell yeah. Now we’re talking. At least in this one there’ll at least be some shit you can make fun of—you can tell already.
However, you don’t make it very far. The dim light of the lab, the droning of the TV, the plush softness of the couch...the hushed, unintelligible whispers from Rose and Kanaya...Karkat’s body heat right next to you (you can feel it in spite of the six or so inches that separate you), it all conspires to lull you gently to sleep.
When you wake up, the movie is almost over, and you’re alone. Well—no. Rose and Kanaya are gone, but Karkat’s still here. You’re slumped against him, shoulder to shoulder. He’s snoring lightly. You guess you both sort of...mutually fell asleep on each other, this time? Okay.
You don’t move just yet, because...well, you don’t want to startle him or anything. That would be rude, right? The last time this happened—when you’d fallen asleep on his leg like a total loser—he had been pretty cool about it. He had stayed on the couch even after his movie had ended, like a bro, so you could catch the Zs you needed. It’s the least you can do in return.
If the feeling of his warm body all pressed heavily against your side is kind of nice in this awful, cold place, well, who ever has to know?
You wonder whether Kanaya and your sister laughed at the two of you when they noticed you asleep like this. The likelihood is high, but you decide you don’t really give a shit about what some flighty broads think. You feel sorry for them, actually. They’ll never understand the bond of epic broship.
You shift just slightly, allowing Karkat’s head to droop onto your shoulder. It’s slightly more comfortable that way. You rest your cheek against one of his small, rounded horns and close your eyes. You think about how little sleep Karkat seems to get, the exhaustion that’s almost always written on his face. The deep bags under his eyes that never seem to go away. Poor guy.
You’re startled badly when the movie’s end credits roll—the fucking obnoxious song that starts to play wakes Karkat instantly, and you flinch in response, and then his whole body is tensing up, and that’s the point of no return—it’s over. Slowly, he shifts himself away from you, and you lean back, too, to give the guy a little more space.
You want to say something. The silence between you, filled with nothing but that awful saccharine song, is practically unbearable. But your mouth is so dry, and your mind has gone blank, so you just...look at him.
He looks at you, too.
At least you’re safe behind your shades. His expression is so painfully naked, so completely readable while he’s in this vulnerable state, half-awake and confused. He looks...
Like he wants to lean in again. Like he wants to kiss you.
The moment stretches on and on. You don’t know how to break it. You can’t quite decide whether you want to make a run for the transportalizer, or...
Or...
“Well. G’night,” you manage to croak as you shakily stand up and back away. “S-see ya later.”
He doesn’t reply, or even look at you. You feel a strong and terrible urge to talk at him, just because he looks so—so you struggle to keep your stupid rambling mouth shut as your legs carry you to the transportalizer.
You transportalize.
Now that you’re out of the common room (out of danger), you’re in no great hurry anymore. You float slowly through the dark, quiet halls, all the way to your room, and you try not to think about the expression on Karkat’s face.
It’s there, though, in your head—as you plug your phone in to charge, as you remove your shoes and your shades, as you lie on your stomach on your sad floor mattress. His big yellow eyes, all sleepy and half-open and guileless; his brow all unfurrowed, for once. He’d looked so uncharacteristically soft, just then. You wonder if he had been dreaming.
It’s...a strangely sweet kind of torment. That moment between you stays in the forefront of your mind, fucking haunting you, until you finally, finally fall into a restless sleep.
It haunts you every night for the next week and a half.
You keep running into each other. In the kitchen, in the halls. It’s weirdly nerve-wracking every time, though you like to think you do a pretty good job of being fucking cool about it. Not that it’s hard or anything! Being cool comes naturally to you, after all. Just. You know.
It’s easier if you don’t look at him.
(You never actually realized how much you used to look at him.)
Most times, you’re able to get away pretty quickly, without the need for much interaction. And sometimes other people are around, too, which tends to make things much easier. Even the Mayor, although he doesn’t speak, gives you something to focus on that isn’t just...Karkat.
You leave Can Town to the two of them. You spend more time than you used to bothering Rose, just so you don’t have to be so alone. Being alone sucks ass. You’ve had enough of it, frankly. You hang out in Rose’s room almost every day, sketching in your notebook or listening to music. You start to get the sense that she’d like you to fuck off. You wonder whether Rose likes being alone. She doesn’t answer when you ask her.
Your crabmunicator has been gathering dust under your mattress since the last movie night. If Karkat has tried to contact you with it, you remain unaware. He certainly hasn’t been pestering you, though, so...probably not.
In spite of yourself, you think about him at night. You wonder if he can see through your shades, so to speak, when you have those little run-ins in the halls. Maybe he can smell your sweat or some freaky shit like that. Trolls can see in the dark, can’t they? The ability to smell fear honestly doesn’t seem that far-fetched to you.
It isn’t fear, though, is it? Not really. Not...precisely.
Now that you and Karkat have more or less stopped hanging out, Terezi and Vriska can almost always be found hogging the common room, watching some trashy Alternian movie. You’re starting to think about joining them—you’re that desperate for company that isn’t your sister.
So finally, one night, when Rose kicks you out of her room “so she can sleep” (yeah, right) you transportalize into the common room instead of going to bed yourself. You realize too late that you’re only wearing one layer—you left your cape and your t-shirt behind. It’s warm in Rose’s room, what with all the candles she likes to burn, but it’s fucking freezing out here. God damn it.
To your surprise, you find Terezi and Karkat sitting on the couch. They’re in the middle of watching a human romcom, or, well, talking over it. They stop as soon as they notice you, though.
You glance at the screen to avoid Karkat’s gaze. You’re pretty sure the movie is one you’ve seen before, with him.
You didn’t expect him to be here. You feel exposed—cold and half-naked in just your long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants. You can’t exactly turn around and just transportalize back out, though—that would be so uncool. C’mon, Strider. Play it off.
Terezi grins at you sharply. “Hey there, coolkid. We were just talking about you.”
“Sup, girl,” you greet her with a nod. “Don’t I know it. I’m the talk of the meteor, always.” Oh, yeah. So smooth. You approach them and take a seat on the floor.
“Go ahead and take my spot,” Terezi offers, standing up and stretching. “I was just telling Karkat how tired I am. And this movie is boooring.”
“Oh,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, but. It would be pretty weird to keep sitting here on the floor, wouldn’t it? After she offered you her spot? Shit.
She exits the room with a suspiciously cheerful wave. You move to the couch with some reluctance, careful not to look at Karkat as you do. There’s a respectable distance between you, this time, at least.
After five or ten stiff, uncomfortable minutes spent not watching the movie on the screen whatsoever, you chance a sideways glance at him. He’s sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest again, folded in on himself in a way that looks pretty uncomfortable. He’s staring past the movie and into space—he looks almost sad—and it makes you wonder if he feels just as awkward as you do about...this.
You wonder if maybe he and Terezi really had been talking about you.
Without your permission, your hand reaches out toward him. You flick a finger against one of his horns. Thwack.
Why.
“Why,” he asks plaintively, his brow furrowing. “Strider, why. Why the fuck.”
Back in semi-familiar territory, you begin to relax. You shrug and give him a half-smile. He groans exaggeratedly. You set your elbow on your knee and hide your suddenly irrepressible grin behind your hand.
“Sorry, bro,” you say.
“I don’t fucking believe you,” he grumbles.
You have to stop yourself from reaching for him again and again. It’s weird, this sudden urge you feel to bug him and tease him and touch him. Even back when you were hanging out all the time, you never felt the need to bother him this much.
You suppose it’s always been sort of fun to rile him up, partly because it’s so easy. The dude has never had any chill.
That’s all it is.
“Are you going to bed?” he asks you when the movie ends. “I’m not tired yet. I’m going to put on another one.”
It sounds like a warning, the way he says it. You snort.
“Nah, not yet,” you say, stretching out on the couch until your back cracks. “You’re stuck with me for tonight, Vantas.”
“You were quiet during that last one,” he says. “I was actually able to hear the fucking dialogue for once. Are you feeling okay? Are you coming down with some kind of disgusting human illness?”
Shit. You had forgotten to pay any attention to the movie at all, truthfully, lost in thought as you were. Of course he noticed the absence of your usual stream-of-consciousness reactions.
“’m fine,” you say, as nonchalantly as you can manage. You think it sounds convincing.
Despite your best efforts, you don’t quite manage to pay attention to the second movie, either. It doesn’t help that it’s an Alternian one. They tend to be long.
You keep your hands to yourself, and your eyes too, but your thoughts are still filled with him. You’re almost painfully aware of his proximity. It’s getting more and more difficult to deny that there’s...something. In the air between you. Something besides the awkwardness, something...underneath it.
You’re starting to feel kinda terrible. You want to say something—I wish we hadn’t stopped hanging out, or maybe I’m sorry for avoiding you, or even the dream bubbles have kind of sucked without you, bro, but—when you take a breath to speak, when you turn to face him, he’s—
He’s asleep.
So. Okay.
The position he’s in looks pretty uncomfortable. Quietly, you say, “Hey.”
He moans at the sound of your voice, and sort of unfolds, stretching out his arms and legs, but he doesn’t seem to really...wake up. Without opening his eyes, he lies down across the couch, resting his head on your lap. He’s snoring in mere moments, and then...
And then there’s a sort of deep rumble starting up, coming from inside his body, like—a freaky cross between a cat’s purr and a cricket chirping.
You’re tense as fuck, but slowly, slowly, you force yourself to relax.
He didn’t know what he was doing, you remind yourself. He was half-asleep. And besides, it’s only fair, isn’t it?
Or maybe he did know. Maybe...he just...trusts you.
You’re not so sure you actually deserve that. For a split second, you were on the brink of rolling him off of you, off of the couch entirely.
You’ve never had this much physical contact with...well, anyone. It’s. Nice? Kind of odd. Addicting, in a way. You find yourself stroking his thick, tangled curls, gently enough so you don’t wake him. The room is cold, because the whole lab is, but he’s warm, so warm. He always seems to be warm. That steady purring sound just keeps going and going, it vibrates into you, and it’s still fucking weird but it’s also kind of...soothing? You try, and fail, to imagine Vriska making that sound. Or, shit, Gamzee.
Okay, you know what? No more thinking about the clown. Or about Vriska, for that matter. Or about anyone else who sucks. Just...no.
As you absently stroke your fingers through Karkat’s hair, very deliberately not thinking about the douchebag who raised you, you accidentally brush against the soft, velvety base of one of his horns. Suddenly his cricket chirps stutter to a stop. He groans in complaint as your heart hammers in your throat—oh shit, oh fuck—
And then he’s stirring, and then pushing himself upright.
He rubs at his eyes blearily. He’s still so close to you. For a moment, you think he’s about to say sorry, like you had done when the roles were reversed, but...he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything.
He just looks at you.
And this time...
This time, you don’t look away. You don’t make a run for it. You don’t try to tell yourself this is nothing. You know it’s not nothing—you’ve thought about this. You’ve thought about it, about him, every night.
You miss him, damn it. You miss being friends. And you want...
“I...want...”
Up close, you can see he’s got these tiny gray spots on his cheeks, just slightly lighter than the rest of his skin. Like freckles.
They’re cute.
His eyes are so big, so dark. He has thick eyelashes. You’ve noticed them before.
He’s looking at your mouth.
You lean a little closer. You forget to tell him what it is you want.
He leans in, too. He meets you halfway. When your lips touch, you realize you don’t really know what to do, but...he doesn’t seem to know, either. You huff a laugh against his skin and he laughs too and then you’re kissing him, really kissing him, and he’s copying everything you do and fuck it feels fucking amazing just because it’s him, because you’ve wanted this.
You brush his messy hair behind one pointed ear and cup his cheek in your hand and kiss him, softly, sweetly, and you think I could do this for hours and not get enough. But—
Someone’s coming. There are footsteps approaching. Lightning-quick, Karkat scoots back, wide-eyed and red-faced, leaving almost three entire feet of couch between you. You have an instant to think thank fuck they didn’t use the transportalizer, and then Rose and Kanaya are stepping through the door.
You knew she wasn’t really going to sleep when she kicked you out.
You feel hot, suddenly, despite the chill. You hope your face isn’t as red as Karkat’s right now.
“Oh, hello, Dave,” Rose greets you, casual as can be. “We were just about to begin our book club discussion officially. Karkat, you’re welcome to join us again.”
Kanaya’s face says otherwise, but you don’t think it’ll be a problem. Karkat doesn’t appear too eager to discuss any books at the moment.
“Actually, we were just talking about possibly moving our movie night to my block,” he says, looking directly at you. “Right, Dave?”
“Mhm,” you manage. “For a, um. S-sleepover.”
Rose gives you a funny look, but you don’t hang around to exchange witty banter with the Lesbian Book Club. You’re already out the door, with Karkat right at your heels.
You’ve been to his room a handful of times, so you know the way. You slow down a little to let him catch up with you—you’ve got longer legs.
“We forgot to bring the movie,” he says. “It’s still playing on the TV back there.”
“Oh,” you say.
“I’ve got more in my room,” he says with a shrug.
You don’t bother saying it doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t, and he probably knows that, but...you don’t see any reason to be an asshole about this. If he wants to keep pretending that either of you are about to pay attention to some fucking long-ass Alternian romance movie, you’ll happily let him.
You wonder briefly why neither of you thought to use the transportalizer. This is kind of a hike. You’re not used to walking this much, really—you usually just float everywhere, but it feels almost mean to do that when you know Karkat can’t.
“Man, Lesbian Book Club has no concept of giving a dude and his best buddy some space,” you say. Your palms are sweating. “This’ll be cool, though. Um. Th-the sleepover.”
“I never actually agreed to that,” he reminds you, rolling his eyes. “You made that part up, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“It’s okay, though. I mean, it does sound kind of nice. This place gets so...”
You nod. “Yeah, man.”
You almost walk right past Karkat’s door. He reaches out and tugs at your hand to stop you. “We’re here.”
Together, you stand outside his door. You’re still holding his hand. It’s hard to look at him, even with your shades on. Your face feels hot. You think it’s lucky that we’re doing this now, because if you had parted ways and gone to bed in your separate rooms...if you’d waited even one more night to do this...
“Come on,” he insists, gently, tugging you inside. You stop thinking about what-ifs. You follow.
The look he gives you as you step inside makes your heart pound faster, faster. You almost can’t believe this is happening. Can’t believe you’ve already kissed him. You want to do it again, more than anything.
So you do.