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It had been nearly 5 days since Karkat left for his work trip, but today he was finally coming home. Dave, as much as he hated to admit, waited anxiously for his arrival. He sat jittery on the couch, staring at the slow ticks of the clock. It was only a few hours until his boyfriend arrived back at their shared house, but it had felt like months (he was exaggerating, of course). He even considered using his time powers again, which he had sworn off using for anything that wasn’t super important. Not that Karkat wasn’t important, in fact the only times he’d ever really used his time powers since their arrival on Earth C was for him. Like the time he went back to stop his future self from spoiling the film Karkat had been looking forward to for months or when he went back to get a year's supply of Karkat's favorite discontinued snack from the local 7/11. The point was, Karkat Vantas was the ONLY reason, aside from like maybe the earth getting destroyed by the planet fucking jupiter (if that even existed in this universe), that he would use his time powers. So was it worth it now…?
Dave decided he should probably just find something else to help calm his nerves. If he used his timepowers again he’d probably start doing it more frequently, which would likely end in endless numbers of dead Daves along the way. Hard pass thank you very much. There were just under 2 hours left until Karkat got home and it was growing closer to dinner-time, so Dave decided he would try cooking. What’s better than getting home from a long week of work and finding out your super cool and sexy and humble and awesome and definitely not incredibly full of anxiety partner has made dinner for you? Nothing that’s what.
Dave didn’t have a reputation for being a great cook, it was always Karkat who would do the cooking in the house, while Dave would take over the role of washing the dishes. He’d never gotten the chance to back in Houston. Bro never stocked food in the house and when they did have proper meals it’d be cheap takeaway. One afternoon when he was 10 Dave had scavenged up enough loose change to buy a few ingredients; a loaf of bread, a mixed jar of peanut butter and jelly and a bunch of bananas. It would’ve made at least a week's worth of sandwiches if not for Bro throwing the bag of food out the window upon finding it, claiming Dave was an “ungrateful little shit” for trying to sneak anything behind his back. Dave stuck to hiding bags of non-perishables like chips and apple juice in his closet after that incident.
He’d once tried cooking on the meteor. Rose and Kanaya had alchemised a small kitchen set up, and devised a roster for pairs to cook every day of the week; the lesbians paired together (obviously), then Vriska and Terezi (another obvious choice), which left Dave and Karkat. Dave technically didn’t need to eat, a perk of ascending to god tier, but he agreed to the routine because he knew Karkat and the other trolls still needed to. Karkat would often forget or be too tired to feed himself, so if it meant being forced to bicker with him in the kitchen every 3rd day to get that to happen, Dave would put up with it. During that time they’d quickly worked out that Dave had no idea how to work a kitchen, so he had promptly been booted to the sidelines by the girls, for the fear that he’d get a knife in the throat by the grumpy troll's hand.
The very last time he was ever allowed within the kitchen was a year after they’d settled into Earth C. It had been the day before John’s 18th birthday and Jade had asked everyone to pitch in with the food. Dave and Karkat, being roommates at the time, had been assigned to make a dish of pasta to bring. Karkat, thinking it would surely be the easiest and least fuck-upable task, had instructed Dave to boil the spaghetti while he worked on the sauce. Somehow, and in no relation to getting distracted working on his “Egbert Super 18th birthday” rap, Dave had managed to burn the spaghetti before it had even finished cooking. They ended up ordering take out and claiming it as their own that night, vowing to never tell anybody. After that Dave was officially banned from the kitchen.
But now, Karkat was out of the house, and there was no one to stop him from fulfilling his duty as the best human boyfriend. Thinking on the previous memory, Dave decided he would attempt to redeem himself and make pasta for dinner. After spending 20 minutes meticulously scrolling through recipes on the ‘cooking with Crocker’ blog, he settled on ‘Marry me Chicken Pasta’. Fuck yeah this pasta was gonna make Karkat want to marry him. This pasta was gonna be so good you’d ask it to give you head, THAT’S how lit this shit was going to be.
(Dave tried to ignore the voice in the back of his head that told him he’d fuck up just like the last times. He brushed past the thought that he was just useless at being a functioning human being).
An hour and 40 minutes before Karkat arrived home Dave had begun scavenging around the kitchen for ingredients. Luckily the two had gone shopping the day before Karkat left, so the fridge was still stocked (Dave had ordered takeout on all 5 days of his boyfriend's absence, leaving most things completely untouched). They had most of the things he needed; chicken, pasta, oil, butter, garlic, flour, cheese, broth and a large shelf of at least 20 different seasonings. The only things he was missing were heavy cream, sun-dried tomatoes and basil. Surely he could just substitute the cream for milk, I mean they were both dairy right? And how and why the fuck would you sundry a tomato. If he were still in Texas he probably could’ve just left one out in the heat and it’d work, surely a normal tomato would work just fine. He knew they didn't have any basil, but a few days ago Kanaya had popped by to deliver some herbs from her garden, and mint had been one of them. It looked close enough to basil so maybe it would work..? To be truthful Dave has never used half of these ingredients in his life, he grew up on shitty grilled cheese and 7/11 pizza, truly a man of simple tastes.
After the 15 minutes it had taken him to gather everything he needed, Dave got to work. The whole cooking thing had actually been pretty easy so far. He’d managed to boil the water and drop the pasta in with no hassle, and cut the chicken into only slightly uneven cubes and found out he absolutely hated the slimy texture of raw chicken and never ever wanted to touch it again, oh my god it was fucking horrible. He then proceeded to cook it with absolutely 0 oil burns to his skin, and no pink meat in sight. Dave 1, Food poisoning 0. Fucking take THAT salmonella.
Then onto the sauce. It should've been easy enough, considering it was just dropping ingredients into a pan and stirring. Everything had been going pretty well until he added the milk. This shit was WATERY. Wetter than a certain troll watching quadrant vacillation unfold (haha get it. Like Karkat). Dave was already fucking up really bad. Great!
It was fine. Everything was so chill and so awesome and so totally cool. He could just add the next ingredients and it would be totally 100% fine. Everything was probably going to maybe work out in his favour. Maybe. Probably. Maybe not though. Probably not on second thought actually.
Positive optimism had always been more of John and Jade's thing. Could you tell?
He threw in the tomatoes, which were fresh off the vine, if the vine was a plastic bag that had been purchased from the grocery store 5 days ago. Then he chucked in the rest of the spices and stirred the mixture rather aggressively, because he was super into the cooking and not at all full of nerves and frustrated that he couldn’t fucking do such a simple task like cooking a meal for his boyfriend who seemed to be able to do it effortlessly everynight. Somehow….it looked wetter? Those tomatoes were definitely not supposed to get their juices all up in the sauce like they were.
Why the fuck did it smell like smoke?
“Fuck.”
Dave turned to the pot next to him to discover that he had, for the second time, managed to burn a pot of boiling pasta. He burnt something, that was actively IN water. How on earth is that possible, let alone to manage TWICE? He poured out what was left of the water, and assessed the damage. Most of the pasta that was in contact with the bottom of the pot was black and charred, while the edges were somehow undercooked. What. The fuck. ???
In a last ditch attempt, Dave hastily threw everything into the pan, topping it off with the mint, that upon smelling its sweet scent, he realised would probably taste nasty as hell on top of the monstrosity he had created. Curiosity got the best of him though, and he took a bit, after all good chefs are supposed to try their own food, that's what countless masterchef re-runs taught him.
….
THIS SHIT SUCKED BALLS.
IT WAS FUCKING NASTY.
….Maybe if he just made it look presentable Karkat wouldn’t notice….
Dave looked between the perfect looking dish on the blog and the orange sludge in front of him. Yeah he couldn’t serve this to his boyfriend, that would probably be classified as a hate crime.
He definitely fucked up. He felt utterly useless and pathetic. Man he really wished he’d learnt to cook when he was younger. It was such a simple skill. Everyone else knew how to but he just COULDN’T! It wasn’t just that, it was other little things that added up. Like not knowing how to pronounce certain words because he’d rarely spoken to people in real life outside of his short conversations with his Bro before arriving in the session, not knowing what a fucking fridge or washing machine was for until he was 12, and just generally not knowing how to behave like an actual fucking human being. Was there something just wrong with him?
Dave stood there for a few minutes, hands trembling as they rested firmly on the kitchen bench. His eyes stupidly began to water behind his shades. Don’t cry, he told himself. Don’t cry, he thought until that voice returned in the back of his head. Stop crying, you fucking pussy. What would Bro think? He’d have beaten the shit out of you for this. All those scars aren’t for nothing, so you must really just suck that bad. His eyes flicked to his bare arms. Why had he been so worried about oil burns when he already looked fucked up like this? I bet you knew you deserved them too, didn’t you.
What would Karkat think? He was the only person who’d been able to see through Dave's cool kid facade. He wouldn’t care, he’d still want him..right? He deserves better than to be with someone as fragile and pathetic as you. You’ve gotten so much weaker since this stupid game. No one wants your vulnerable, broken-ass self. Why do you even bother trying—
“DAVE! I’M HOME!” Karkat's loud voice rang out from the front door, snapping Dave out of his thoughts. A series of loud thuds followed as the troll dropped his luggage on the floor, his voice growing closer towards Dave and the abominationtm. He couldn’t let Karkat see this, he could be so disappointed! And probably furious if he realized that Dave had wasted at least $30 dollars worth of ingredients on making some bullshit.
“Hey Karkles,” Dave brought himself to smile upon the sight of his beautiful boyfriend, bringing him into a hug and placing a small peck on the troll's cheek, “Missed you,”
“Hey Dave,” Karkat leaned into the embrace and returned the kiss, this time on the lips, “I missed you too, numbnuts,” Man was that boy so cute. Just being near him relieved Dave of at least 25% of his anxiety.
They stood like that for a while, or rather Dave didn’t want to let go and Karkat quietly accepted it with little complaint (which was something that had taken years of putting up with Dave’s love of physical affection to make happen). They continued on with their conversation as Dave looped his fingers around strands of the trolls' soft hair in a repetitive, calming motion.
“How was the trip?” He asked
“Boring. Terezi and Vriska found out I was staying close to them and wouldn’t stop coming over to bug me every fucking chance they got, because apparently I’m friends with assholes who can’t leave me alone,” Karkat ranted, “But other than that it was fine, I guess. It would've been better if you were there though. Anyways, how about you? What did you do while I was gone?”
“Hm, not much”
“Not much? Bullshit. Surely you did something”
“Mm, nah. Apart from making more sick beats and generally being awesome , I didn’t really do anything”
“Hm, ok. Did anything interesting happen? Any drama? Anything exciting or totally ‘dope’ or ‘rad’ in Strider terms? Did you see Rose and Kanaya? Kan said she was coming to bring us something from her garden last week. I was really looking forward to catching up with her, but work just had to pull me away the one time I scheduled something with her. Did she end up coming?”
“.....Dunno.”
“Are you ok?” Karkat broke the quiet conversation, looking up at Dave with his big round eyes, "You're a lot quieter than usual. Normally I’d have already been subjected to your Strider-yaps by now,” He really did look like a sweet little cat sometimes.
“Yeah” Dave replied flatly. If this had happened a year ago he would’ve quickly covered it up with his cool kid facade. It had taken years for him to break down the habit of redirecting the conversation, saying he was fine and spouting some shit like “why would you think that? I’m totally chill. Feeling pretty fly as fuck now actually thanks for asking”. He was still lying now, obviously, just without the extra need to make it seem like he wasn’t.
“Don’t lie to me Dave,” Karkat frowned, face twisting into a skeptical expression. He rested his head on Dave's shoulder as if to try and comfort him, or maybe to use his cuteness (which he was completely oblivious to) in order to coax a confession out of Dave. That troll did have quite the effect on him after all.
“I’m not,” Dave insisted, unconvincingly.
“Strider, if something happened you can tell me—” The troll paused and took a step back, exiting the embrace, “Why the fuck does it smell like burnt food in here?”
“Uh,” Fuck. Dave hadn’t had time to throw out the abominationtm before Karkat got home. Maybe he would have to revert back to his 13 year old self and redirect the conversation.
“Don’t worry about it,” Dave reassured him, promptly moving to stand in front of the entrance that led to the kitchen. Luckily for him, he was pretty tall and obscured most of the line of view into the kitchen. Unfortunately for Karkat, he was pretty short and therefore couldn’t see jackshit.
“Anyways Karkles,” He redirected, “I saw an ad for a movie last night. A super cheesy looking troll rom-com that I know you’ll totally love. It even has that quadrant vacillation shit you get hot and bothered about. We should just go and watch that–”
“Yeah that sounds good but I wanted to eat first— STOP TRYING TO BLOCK THE FUCKING ENTRANCE,” Karkat yelled, flailing his arms around in an attempt to swat away Dave, who had spread his arms until they were touching both sides of the door frame, blocking even more of the trolls vision, “YOU’RE NOT FUCKING SLICK, DUMBASS. I CAN TELL YOU’RE TRYING TO HIDE SOMETHING FROM ME!!”
“What? Me? Hide something? Noooo,” Dave lied, “I would never do that, Baby. That’s like the least likely thing I am to do. Didn’t you know that the first rule of being a Strider, aside from being awesome of course, is to be totally honest–”
“DAVE!!”
“..Sorry” Dave’s voice dropped to just slightly louder than a whipser, arms dropping to his sides, “I kinda…fucked up.”
Karkat looked up at him with those big sad looking eyes, that made Dave wonder what he ever did to deserve a boyfriend as cute as him, “...What did you do?”
“I just… wanted to surprise you. And like, be a good boyfriend. I thought it’d be super romantic if I cooked dinner for you, so you could just relax when you got home, ” Dave admitted as Karkat reached over to grab his hand and began gently circling the back of his palm, “But I fucked up. I thought I could power through it but I fucking suck at this shit man. I just ... .can't do anything,” he sunk his head down, resting his forehead gently against Karkat’s.
“Dave. You know that’s not true,” Karkat reassured him, reaching a hand up to cup Dave's face, the other circling his inner palm, “You’re amazing at so many things. You’re the most creative person I know, I mean who else could come up with a 19 minute rap about how corrupt ‘big apple juice’ is,”
“They raised the price by 50 cents Karkat, I had to speak my truth.”
“Ok my point is,” Karkat suppressed a giggle, “Who cares if you can’t cook? Why should it matter if you’re not good at it when you're amazing at so many other things?"
Dave sighed, “I dunno it’s different. All the things I’m good at are just stupid things. They’re cool but also not very important. I just— I feel like I should be able to do basic things like that, y’know? Like for fucks sake I’m 22 years old I should be able to cook for myself,” he slumped his head onto his boyfriends shoulder, “I mean I guess it’s not entirely my fault. No one really ever taught me how to do all this shit. Like yeah, 12 year old me could wield a sword and make some sick beats on the turntables, but those skills don’t really amount to becoming a good, functioning adult. It just sucks man.”
“...It’s not too late to learn, you know,” Karkat whispered, stroking the back of Dave's head gently, “I’ll help you.”
“Really?” Dave mumbled into Karkat's soft sweater, peeking up to look at the troll.
“Of course,”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?” Karkat huffed, “I care about you, Dave. I want to help you, because I want you to be happy and feel good about yourself, obviously”.
“Aww Karkat,” Dave smiled at the confession, he was so lucky to have him, “You’re so sweet, man. Seriously, you’re the sweetest troll in the universe. It’s sickening how fucking sweet you are man I think I’m gonna have a sugar rush just from being near ya,”
“Shut up,” Karkat laughed, cheeks flushed candy red “Listen. I’ll teach you how to cook, if you teach me something in return. Okay?” He guided Dave off his shoulder so he could reach up and cup his face again, placing a kiss on the man's cheek as he did.
Dave nodded, “Alright, what’dya wanna learn baby?”
“Are you…comfortable with sparring again?” Karkat spoke hesitantly, "I want to get stronger, and you’re the best person I can think to teach me. But I only want to do it if it’s ok with you. I’m not an asshole, afterall.”
Dave thought for a moment. Karkat had attempted to get Dave to teach him to fight during their early days on the meteor, before they had gotten really close. Something about wanting to be prepared for when they arrived in the new session. But every time they tried Dave would end up feeling ill, overwhelmed, or freeze up. Each attempt had ended in him quickly absconding within less than 3 minutes. The very last time they tried, it had ended in Dave having a very embarrassing and very public panic attack in front of Karkat and the girls, who had insisted they come and watch. Karkat dropped the topic after that and never asked again. It had been nearly a decade since then, and many of those feelings of anxiety that surrounded Dave had slowly begun to be replaced with the feelings of safety when he was near the people he trusted. One of those people being Karkat. Actually, it was mostly just Karkat.
“Yeah, I think it’s been long enough,” Dave finally answered and was met with Karkat's adorable smile, “First sessions tomorrow, 6am sharp. Welcome to D-striders bootcamp, Baby”
“What!? Why so soon?? And why at 6 in the fucking morning!??” Karkat yelled, half laughing and half in disbelief.
“Didn’t they teach you this in troll school, Karks? You gotta be there or be square. The earlier we start the quicker you’ll improve. And trust me I’m NOT going easy on you man, I’m gonna give you the full on Strider treatment, and not in a sexy way, unless you’re into that of course–”
“I don't think I want to do this anymore, actually…”
“Oh no, you CANNOT back out now, Babe. We are in this. We’re entrenched in this shit. We are DOING it.”
“Ok fine!” Karkat sighed, barely able to hide the fact that he was totally 100% smiling, “We’ll talk about it more tomorrow morning. But for now, let’s go and eat, I’m fucking starving. And I’m sure whatever you made can’t be that bad.”
“Uh, about that..”
—
The two stood in front of the stove, staring at the burnt and liquidy pile of incredibly fucked up pasta in front of them.
“Dave, what the fuck did you do!?” Karkat turned to him, mouth agape in disbelief, “How the fuck did you manage to burn the pasta?? Again?? It’s cooked in fucking water!”
“Hey man I tried ok, we’ve established I’m shit at this,” Dave pouted, wrapping his arms around Karkat's sides from behind and resting his head on the others, “Take-out?”
“Yeah that’s probably a good idea,” Karkat smiled leaning back into his boyfriend's embrace, “Pizza?”
“Of course, Baby.”
“Sweet.”