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[ Uncomfortable but on a level they can actively work with concerning their relationship. He's just so relieved he could actually help in some way. He considers that huge progress. Dave can relax ever so slightly and that's great.
Dave's leaving himself open for something and there's an uneasiness to it that Dirk would feel far too uncomfortable to ever take advantage of. They're already mind-linked. That's enough. He knows he could go way too far with this because he basically wants to know all of Dave's life.
And he knows how Dave feels about him - or that alternate him. Not exactly but he got enough of the rundown of it to understand leaving yourself ripe for questions regarding SERIOUS SHIT is taking a huge step here.
Look at this slow back-up into the parking space that is trust. That's a shit metaphor. He hopes Dave didn't hear it. ]
Why are we so fucking awesome?
Dave's leaving himself open for something and there's an uneasiness to it that Dirk would feel far too uncomfortable to ever take advantage of. They're already mind-linked. That's enough. He knows he could go way too far with this because he basically wants to know all of Dave's life.
And he knows how Dave feels about him - or that alternate him. Not exactly but he got enough of the rundown of it to understand leaving yourself ripe for questions regarding SERIOUS SHIT is taking a huge step here.
Look at this slow back-up into the parking space that is trust. That's a shit metaphor. He hopes Dave didn't hear it. ]
Why are we so fucking awesome?
[The first thing that comes through is surprise, then recognition, and then something not quite possible to describe, something warm and bright and charmed. Something like, this is what a smile feels like from the inside.]
Dude.
[The amusement is real, the sudden liking no less so.]
That's the best fucking question anybody ever asked.
Dude.
[The amusement is real, the sudden liking no less so.]
That's the best fucking question anybody ever asked.
maybe?
it feels really stupid now that i'm talking to you i knew i shouldn't have done this
things are just
weird after that whole moon thing
it feels really stupid now that i'm talking to you i knew i shouldn't have done this
things are just
weird after that whole moon thing
[The problem with Dave not letting anyone know that he didn't think he was popular is that Karkat is fully fucking aware that Dave didn't think he was popular. He's also fully aware of what that little mishmash of emotions barely heard (felt?) had been for, and there's an answering rush of warmth/affection that he remembers only too late that he should try and hide. They have reputations to maintain, goddammit. Sort of.
Actually, wait, hang on.]
Have you worn shorts even once since arriving on this fucking planet?
[How are people seeing said pasty chicken legs, exactly. Please explain.]
Actually, wait, hang on.]
Have you worn shorts even once since arriving on this fucking planet?
[How are people seeing said pasty chicken legs, exactly. Please explain.]
oh
did you now?
that
yeah that's a lot of what's fucking with me right now
did you now?
that
yeah that's a lot of what's fucking with me right now
[Oh no, no, stop that, that shit turns Dave to goo and he can't hide it when everything he's feeling gets broadcast like he's National Public Radio. It's a weird enough sensation without sharing it, like an accidental brush somewhere tender, somewhere that's still not used to touch, like a tickle on his heart.
(Okay, that was gay.)
He curls Wart's tiny fingers around Karkat-Dirk's and wills the blushing schoolgirl feelings far, far away, please. Please, he's gotta get through this somehow.]
Why must you ruin an awesome verbal riff by insisting on literal interpretation.
[A heavy, put-upon mental sigh. And an audible one, too, for good measure.]
No, Karkat, I don't own shorts. Shorts are for weenie children and John. Do I look like John to you. No.
(Okay, that was gay.)
He curls Wart's tiny fingers around Karkat-Dirk's and wills the blushing schoolgirl feelings far, far away, please. Please, he's gotta get through this somehow.]
Why must you ruin an awesome verbal riff by insisting on literal interpretation.
[A heavy, put-upon mental sigh. And an audible one, too, for good measure.]
No, Karkat, I don't own shorts. Shorts are for weenie children and John. Do I look like John to you. No.
[... Not his fault. Or Dirk's.
Yeah, does Dave wanna try that again?
Karkat snorts but doesn't give voice to the (many, many, so many) protests he can think of to that particular bout of flatulent stupidity, instead climbing into the bed too and, because he's too fucking worried to feel self-conscious, immediately latching onto Dave's side again. He's not quite hugging him yet, more because he doesn't want Dave to feel trapped than because he doesn't want to, but he's definitely invading the fuck out of his personal space. Get used to it.]
Dirk isn't Bro. I know.
[It shouldn't need to be said and Karkat is more than a little worried about how Dave will react to hearing that name out loud, but he's hoping it will reassure him to have some kind of confirmation. Dirk isn't Bro. There's no need to be afraid.
... Fuck it, he's hugging Dave now.]
It's okay. Just get some rest? I'm here for as long as you need me.
[Whenever Dave needs him, even if he doesn't realize it. Karkat won't fuck up like that again.]
Yeah, does Dave wanna try that again?
Karkat snorts but doesn't give voice to the (many, many, so many) protests he can think of to that particular bout of flatulent stupidity, instead climbing into the bed too and, because he's too fucking worried to feel self-conscious, immediately latching onto Dave's side again. He's not quite hugging him yet, more because he doesn't want Dave to feel trapped than because he doesn't want to, but he's definitely invading the fuck out of his personal space. Get used to it.]
Dirk isn't Bro. I know.
[It shouldn't need to be said and Karkat is more than a little worried about how Dave will react to hearing that name out loud, but he's hoping it will reassure him to have some kind of confirmation. Dirk isn't Bro. There's no need to be afraid.
... Fuck it, he's hugging Dave now.]
It's okay. Just get some rest? I'm here for as long as you need me.
[Whenever Dave needs him, even if he doesn't realize it. Karkat won't fuck up like that again.]
['Then never go away.'
Dave thinks about saying it. He's not sure he wants to, when it's so...not needy, though it is, but in need, desperately; when he thinks Karkat wouldn't deny him anything right now, and it wouldn't--it can't be fair to ask for something so enormous, not when Dave himself doesn't understand what the asking would even be for.
Karkat didn't give "sorry" back to him yet and he already used "thank you." What does Dave even have if he doesn't have words? Nothing. His sword, his act, he left all of that on a stone slab on LOFAF, fading away as swiftly and unstoppably as his life had, leaving him the ghost of what Bro had made him.
No. Stop.
Dirk isn't Bro. Bro isn't here. Karkat's here, right here, and after a second to swallow, Dave lets go of the bedsheets, slips right through Karkat's arms to disappear beneath the covers completely, and folds himself around Karkat instead, bumps into his chest.]
Okay.
[He shifts so it's his ear pressing against Karkat's chest, so he can hear the rise and fall of his breathing or even his heart.
Dirk didn't do anything, and Bro's not here. But Dave will never stop watching for him now, never stop waiting for that shitty sneaker to drop, never forget that there's no such thing as safety.
But Karkat's here. If...if Bro does come, either Dave will be ready and that'll be fine, or...Karkat wouldn't even let Bro get near, would he. Bro doesn't go up against straightforward aggression, that's not his M.O., and if Karkat says he's not wanted...
Dave lets the muscles of his back and neck relax, slowly, curled into Karkat's shirt. He breathes out.]
We can watch TV.
[He doesn't want to sleep. Not when the aftertaste of fear still sits so sour in his throat. He doesn't want that kind of quiet.]
Or read a book. Anything you want.
Dave thinks about saying it. He's not sure he wants to, when it's so...not needy, though it is, but in need, desperately; when he thinks Karkat wouldn't deny him anything right now, and it wouldn't--it can't be fair to ask for something so enormous, not when Dave himself doesn't understand what the asking would even be for.
Karkat didn't give "sorry" back to him yet and he already used "thank you." What does Dave even have if he doesn't have words? Nothing. His sword, his act, he left all of that on a stone slab on LOFAF, fading away as swiftly and unstoppably as his life had, leaving him the ghost of what Bro had made him.
No. Stop.
Dirk isn't Bro. Bro isn't here. Karkat's here, right here, and after a second to swallow, Dave lets go of the bedsheets, slips right through Karkat's arms to disappear beneath the covers completely, and folds himself around Karkat instead, bumps into his chest.]
Okay.
[He shifts so it's his ear pressing against Karkat's chest, so he can hear the rise and fall of his breathing or even his heart.
Dirk didn't do anything, and Bro's not here. But Dave will never stop watching for him now, never stop waiting for that shitty sneaker to drop, never forget that there's no such thing as safety.
But Karkat's here. If...if Bro does come, either Dave will be ready and that'll be fine, or...Karkat wouldn't even let Bro get near, would he. Bro doesn't go up against straightforward aggression, that's not his M.O., and if Karkat says he's not wanted...
Dave lets the muscles of his back and neck relax, slowly, curled into Karkat's shirt. He breathes out.]
We can watch TV.
[He doesn't want to sleep. Not when the aftertaste of fear still sits so sour in his throat. He doesn't want that kind of quiet.]
Or read a book. Anything you want.
[... There just may be a fleeting and suspiciously clear mental image of Dave wearing a pair of knee-length shorts and a sleeveless shirt, but Karkat buries it as quickly as fucking possible with more sensory data from their surroundings: the crunch of the dirt road beneath his feet, the faint breeze sifting through his hair (Strider hair is fucking weird, how is it this thin?), the way Wart's hand fits in hiWHY IS THIS NOT WORKING.
Briefly, he entertains the notion of slapping himself again, but as satisfying as it would be because fuck Dirk anyway, he somehow refrains. For now. God, maybe everything about these few days in someone else's body can be mutually forgotten between the two of them as "shit too embarrassing to admit happened." They hadn't expanded the category lately, might as well fix that.]
You are so fucking lucky I'm not going to tell him you said that. He'd probably buy you a pair and find some way to make you wear them.
[By, what, hiding all his other pairs of pants somewhere? The prankster's ways are unknown to Karkat, but the past few weeks have been nothing if not EXCESSIVELY FUCKING EDUCATIONAL in that respect.]
Briefly, he entertains the notion of slapping himself again, but as satisfying as it would be because fuck Dirk anyway, he somehow refrains. For now. God, maybe everything about these few days in someone else's body can be mutually forgotten between the two of them as "shit too embarrassing to admit happened." They hadn't expanded the category lately, might as well fix that.]
You are so fucking lucky I'm not going to tell him you said that. He'd probably buy you a pair and find some way to make you wear them.
[By, what, hiding all his other pairs of pants somewhere? The prankster's ways are unknown to Karkat, but the past few weeks have been nothing if not EXCESSIVELY FUCKING EDUCATIONAL in that respect.]
In that case, I would wear them just for the irony. Whatever shorts John buys me would have a humongous chance of being fuckin' hilarious and I would own that shit like a druglord in Slumtown.
[Knee-length shorts and a sleeveless shirt, you say? The rather showier image in Dave's own head comes complete with a backing track. NICE LEGS, DAISY DUKES, MAKES A MAN GO *whistle*. Also, there are cowboy boots and a knotted shirt. Basically, this was a bad idea.
Dave laughs silently again, John-fond and amused and self-conscious.]
Oops, my bad, shield your virgin ganderbulbs.
[Knee-length shorts and a sleeveless shirt, you say? The rather showier image in Dave's own head comes complete with a backing track. NICE LEGS, DAISY DUKES, MAKES A MAN GO *whistle*. Also, there are cowboy boots and a knotted shirt. Basically, this was a bad idea.
Dave laughs silently again, John-fond and amused and self-conscious.]
Oops, my bad, shield your virgin ganderbulbs.
yeah
he was from the night it all happened
when they disappeared but before he found out
he had no idea
he was from the night it all happened
when they disappeared but before he found out
he had no idea
yeah, totally!
they will not even know what hit them. my pranking prowess is just that good.
they will not even know what hit them. my pranking prowess is just that good.
i don't know
he was so happy and alive?
chris was there too but neither of them knew and it was so hard
maybe
it might be nice to see someone
he was so happy and alive?
chris was there too but neither of them knew and it was so hard
maybe
it might be nice to see someone
[He'd assumed the worst when Dave slipped away from him (because of course he did, when does he not fuck up?), so while he's quick to welcome his moirail back, petting his hair and arranging the covers more comfortably around them both, it takes Karkat longer than it should to find his voice again. Dave is still here. Everything is fine. Completely. Fucking. Fine.
He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries to pretend that Dave couldn't completely destroy him with a word. Dave is here, Dave is safe, Dave isn't going anywhere. Calm down, for fuck's sake.]
Do you want me to read to you?
[The question is more careful than it needs to be, especially considering how many fucking hours they'd spent doing the same thing on the meteor, but Karkat is still feeling grossly uncertain about pretty much everything right now. With Dave settled on his chest, the world seems like it's starting to fall back into place again, but for as long as Dave is like this, unstable and in need of comfort, he can't lower his guard. He can't let Dave decline to that point ever again.
Maybe reading to him would be a good idea right now. All of his books are piled haphazardly around the other bed, but there might be one within reach that's suitably awful by Dave's standards to take his mind off of things. Fuck Karkat hopes Wart hasn't vanished somewhere so that he can ferry one over without either of them having to move; he is not leaving Dave right now.
... And, since that's decided—]
Because I'm going to fucking read to you. You said it was my choice, so that's what we're doing. Deal with it.
He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries to pretend that Dave couldn't completely destroy him with a word. Dave is here, Dave is safe, Dave isn't going anywhere. Calm down, for fuck's sake.]
Do you want me to read to you?
[The question is more careful than it needs to be, especially considering how many fucking hours they'd spent doing the same thing on the meteor, but Karkat is still feeling grossly uncertain about pretty much everything right now. With Dave settled on his chest, the world seems like it's starting to fall back into place again, but for as long as Dave is like this, unstable and in need of comfort, he can't lower his guard. He can't let Dave decline to that point ever again.
Maybe reading to him would be a good idea right now. All of his books are piled haphazardly around the other bed, but there might be one within reach that's suitably awful by Dave's standards to take his mind off of things. Fuck Karkat hopes Wart hasn't vanished somewhere so that he can ferry one over without either of them having to move; he is not leaving Dave right now.
... And, since that's decided—]
Because I'm going to fucking read to you. You said it was my choice, so that's what we're doing. Deal with it.
[The answer to that question should be obvious, because on her video goes, to her familiar hotel room where she's curled against her bed's headboard. Her eyes are red, but any tears don't seem to be incredibly recent. That's a plus.]
H...hi, I... ...I don't even know what to say now. [Her voice is soft.] You...when did you run into him?
H...hi, I... ...I don't even know what to say now. [Her voice is soft.] You...when did you run into him?
[Dave breathes a faint laugh into Karkat's chest. It's not really mirth or anything, but more like relief. Karkat's bossiness is good. It's normal.]
Sir, yes, sir. Dealing.
[He proves how well he's dealing by moving not at all, continuing his unstoppable evolution into a human limpet. It's dark under the covers and all he can smell is Karkat's pajamas, and he's warm. The whole world's just Karkat right now, and that's good. That's about what he can deal with: A universe narrowed to the safe parts, the parts that won't ever hurt him.
Wart, alert to the passing thought in his direction, pokes his head in curiously. It seems he's ushered some of the less mature Pokémon into the small living room/kitchen area (because if they're going to pay this much for lodging, damn if it isn't going to be a suite), but he susses out what's going on quickly enough and psychics the nearest book right over to Karkat.
Dave reaches up to engineer a small fold at the top of the bed covers over Karkat's chest. It lets a little light in and that's sort of unfortunate, but it lets air in, too, and he can almost sort of see Karkat, like this.]
Hi. Requesting light petting, sir. But only if you've got enough hands. Wouldn't want to compromise the mission, sir. [He curls his arm around Karkat again and nestles in.] The mission is book reading. Restricted clearance, top secret intelligence only. Ten-hut.
Sir, yes, sir. Dealing.
[He proves how well he's dealing by moving not at all, continuing his unstoppable evolution into a human limpet. It's dark under the covers and all he can smell is Karkat's pajamas, and he's warm. The whole world's just Karkat right now, and that's good. That's about what he can deal with: A universe narrowed to the safe parts, the parts that won't ever hurt him.
Wart, alert to the passing thought in his direction, pokes his head in curiously. It seems he's ushered some of the less mature Pokémon into the small living room/kitchen area (because if they're going to pay this much for lodging, damn if it isn't going to be a suite), but he susses out what's going on quickly enough and psychics the nearest book right over to Karkat.
Dave reaches up to engineer a small fold at the top of the bed covers over Karkat's chest. It lets a little light in and that's sort of unfortunate, but it lets air in, too, and he can almost sort of see Karkat, like this.]
Hi. Requesting light petting, sir. But only if you've got enough hands. Wouldn't want to compromise the mission, sir. [He curls his arm around Karkat again and nestles in.] The mission is book reading. Restricted clearance, top secret intelligence only. Ten-hut.
[Thank god somémon has their shit together in this looneyblock. Seriously, what would they do without Wart?
Doing his best to send a mental wave of gratitude in the Gallade's direction, Karkat picks up the book and begins searching for the first actual page, his hand only returning to Dave's hair once he's located it. This book in particular is... one he hasn't started yet, actually. He would have started from the beginning just to make sure that Dave knew what was going on regardless, but it's still nice to be reading something new.]
What the fuck are you vomiting out your word hole. Shoosh, Dave, or I'll read the acknowledgments, too.
[Or the cast of characters, which he'd barely glanced at, but it's probably not important, right? It sure as fuck doesn't help when reading aloud to someone, nor does the map. Karkat may have to take a closer look later, though. Just in case.
He frowns to himself and wastes a few more seconds finding the ideal position to read one-handed and with his moirail on his chest before beginning. Past Karkat probably should have thought that one through more, but it's too late now and he's not dislodging Dave for a stupid reason like personal comfort.
Anyway. What's this book called again?]
The Captive Prinplup. Prologue. "'We hear that your Prince,' said Lady Jokaste, 'keeps his own harem. These slaves will please any traditionalist, but I have asked Adrastus to prepare something special in addition...'"
[And on it goes.]
Doing his best to send a mental wave of gratitude in the Gallade's direction, Karkat picks up the book and begins searching for the first actual page, his hand only returning to Dave's hair once he's located it. This book in particular is... one he hasn't started yet, actually. He would have started from the beginning just to make sure that Dave knew what was going on regardless, but it's still nice to be reading something new.]
What the fuck are you vomiting out your word hole. Shoosh, Dave, or I'll read the acknowledgments, too.
[Or the cast of characters, which he'd barely glanced at, but it's probably not important, right? It sure as fuck doesn't help when reading aloud to someone, nor does the map. Karkat may have to take a closer look later, though. Just in case.
He frowns to himself and wastes a few more seconds finding the ideal position to read one-handed and with his moirail on his chest before beginning. Past Karkat probably should have thought that one through more, but it's too late now and he's not dislodging Dave for a stupid reason like personal comfort.
Anyway. What's this book called again?]
The Captive Prinplup. Prologue. "'We hear that your Prince,' said Lady Jokaste, 'keeps his own harem. These slaves will please any traditionalist, but I have asked Adrastus to prepare something special in addition...'"
[And on it goes.]
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