[He stops, and he doesn't respond quick enough to mask the hesitation. He runs a hand back through his hair, glancing away for a moment.]
Yeah, he's okay. [Mmmgh. He rolls the taste of that in his mouth for a second, then amends the statement.] I'm okay with him. It's not him, not really.
[Well, it is, sort of. Dave doesn't have this problem with anyone else.]
I can't...get into everything. His secrets, not mine, you know? Pretty sure this one's on me anyway, he's been nothing but cool with me.
[... Was that supposed to reassure him? Because, spoilers, he's really not reassured. Sorry, Dave, but lukewarm descriptors like "okay" and that hesitation really aren't subtle to someone as in tune with your moods as Karkat is. Tries to be. Whatever.
He wastes a few more seconds wiggler meal whatever-the-fuck before "casually" opening it and plucking out a nugget. If Dave doesn't start eating some of his own, he swears he's going to hold the asshole down and shove some into his meal tunnel.]
But he bothers you. Right? Or something about him reminds you of something that bothers you?
[He's trying to sound casual and failing miserably. Just fucking talk to him, goddammit, Dave.]
[Look, he can't hold a serious conversation about serious things and eat at the same time, okay? ...Well, okay, that's a lie. Dave can do anything and talk at the same time. Getting Dave not to talk is the problem. Usually.
It's not quite the problem now, and he rubs at a seam on one of their quilts, tries to smooth out the wrinkles in the fabric.]
He reminds me of...
[No, don't trail off. Deep breath. Say it. Just say it, asshole.]
Bro. [He glances at Karkat, away again, but then comes back to his face immediately. Stays there. Swallows.] He reminds me of my bro. So. [Faux-relaxed shrug.] Complicated; shitty reasons.
[... So, if there were any combination of syllables at all to guarantee that Karkat would completely forget any perceived or actual need to eat in favor of just fucking listening to his moirail, that would be it.
Fuck. Just... fuck.
He drops the nugget he'd been contemplating back into the box and sets both aside. He can wait to eat, whatever, not important. Just. Goddammit, Dave.]
You haven't told him.
[It would be a question, but considering the fact that he knows Dave, yeah, no. Of course the idiot hasn't told anyone. In fact, Karkat's probably the first person he's mentioned this to at all, isn't he?]
Uh, no? Of course not. No one wants to hear shit like that, it's awkward even when they're not getting compared to...to a grown-ass man who likes to play with dolls.
[Because that is the most damning thing he can say about the man who threw him off the roof of a high-rise when he was an infant.
(It kind of is, if only because he can't say anything else without his throat closing up.)]
He knows he's done something similar to something Bro did, too. Or didn't do, more like. That's all.
Karkat says nothing, just hauls himself a little straighter then—no, what, fuck this. Sagging back down so he can stare Dave in the eye it is, especially if he can scoot over and fling an arm around his moirail in the process. Proper posture can go fuck itself; hug time is now.]
Is it something he's still doing? Or still hasn't done. I mean, it's... something bad, right?
[He can't help but cringe at the phrasing, but what the fuck else is he supposed to call it, really. Whatever Dave is actually objecting to has to be horrendously bad, right? It's Dave.]
Because I had to watch Digimon and I have no control over my life
[Well, okay, Karkat can stare Dave soulfully in the shades all he likes. His gaze skitters off somewhere for a moment and he nods in answer to the second question, but his mouth tightens a bit. It's more complicated than that.]
I guess it depends on your perspective. What he did, maybe it saved a lot of people. But to do that, he...some personal sacrifices got made along the way, let's say.
[Dave breathes out and finally relaxes a little into the hug.]
Anyway, he can't do it here. And he said it was over, anyway. The thing he was trying to do.
[Apocalypses, am I right. Can't live with 'em, can't apparently fucking exist without 'em.]
But, I think, given the chance, he...yeah, I think he still would.
Edited (Well that icon was inappropriate) 2016-04-30 13:06 (UTC)
[Fucking shades. Karkat should have taken them off sooner, but he'd been distracted by... other shit, whatever, not important. Either way, he's frowning to himself while Dave speaks, watching what little his moirail does reveal before reaching up, carefully tugging the offending eyewear off, and setting it aside. There will come a day when Dave has the presence of mine to remove the shades himself, but until then, Karkat has that shit covered and fuck this loser for making it necessary to begin with.
And... right. That.
He snuggles closer, his arms winding around the idiot again because why not. Shut up.]
Do you think you would feel better? If you both talked about it.
[Because that's the important part, really. The other stuff is still significant, sure, whatever, but for Karkat, Dave's mental and emotional health would always be the top priority.]
Well yes I am a host on a Digimon podcast, there is some level of obligation there
[Dave huffs a very little bit when Karkat takes the shades, but doesn't actually protest. What does the dude have against stylish ironic eyewear, geez. At least it makes it easier to press his forehead to Karkat's and hold him close and pretend he's not being a clingy infant about this entire ordeal.]
Naw. No way, dude, not ever. It's...he didn't do anything to me, so dumping Bro shit on him and making comparisons would just, it'd make him feel bad and it'd make me feel bad, and it's not like either of us would get any closure on our bullshit 'cause he's not Bro and I'm not--I'm not his cousin. Brother. Guy.
[...That probably said too much, right there. He shakes his head a little, eyes shut.]
It's me, it's not him. Our damage just intersects in really unfortunate ways, so it's not...it's not, I don't know. His business, I guess? [Bleh. He nuzzles in closer.] If I can barely even bring myself to acknowledge that shit with you, I'm definitely not gonna touch it with him.
[Dave, you basically just answered your own question, but okay. Karkat is in no position to accuse anyone of being a clingy wiggler, anyway; he's too busy feeling warm and happy about the closeness even if now really isn't the fucking time for that. He just... ugh. Forget it.
He hugs Dave tighter. Because.]
All right, you've made your fucking point. I just. [He makes a disgusted sound under his breath.] It sucks massive, hairy teat that you're stuck having to deal with this on your own. I mean, you have me and Jade and John, but... fuck, I don't know. You don't deserve any of this shit.
[It isn't fair. It never is. And fuck Naoya anyway for not being an appropriate stand-in for Dave to work through all of these damn issues somehow. Someone like that probably doesn't exist anyway, but god wouldn't that solve a whole bunch of problems at once.]
[Yeah geez, obviously we would all accept the presence of someone like that with enormous amounts of chill and no complete loss of our shit whatsoever.
Dave sits (or lies, he guesses) with that statement for a moment before lifting his head away just a bit and stroking Karkat's hair back slowly from his forehead, eyes solemn, soft.]
Neither do you. Or Jade, or John.
[Were any of them ever not alone when they had to face the worst parts of their lives? Dave can't remember.
...Karkat's still the only troll in Johto. Dave tries to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, just rubs his thumb in a circle above it when it doesn't stay.]
Not my shit necessarily. Just. All the shit. The shit in general. [He lets his hand still, framing Karkat's face.] ...It's not right.
[Karkat is sorely fucking tempted to counter that point, if only because he's reasonably sure that he has to deserve some of it after some of the shit he'd unleashed on others (he only, you know, gave an entire universe cancer), but that conversation isn't one he wants to have with Dave right now. Or ever.
He shuts his eyes and nuzzles the hand, either ignoring or just not caring that doing so effectively ruins whatever vague attempt his moirail had been making to straighten his hair. It's a lot cause anyway.]
It's almost okay, being here. Away from that.
[He says it without really thinking, his eyes flicking open briefly to peek at Dave's face before closing again. Why the fuck did he open his mouth, argh.]
Just wish we didn't have to wonder about... the rest of it.
[The fate of their timeline, the lives of their friends, and on and on and on. Assuming John's bullshit quest worked at all. As an unrelenting pessimist, Karkat has his doubts.]
[Dave hums quietly but doesn't answer for a while, still playing with Karkat's hair. It really is hopeless, but it keeps his hands busy while he weighs out and measures his words, puts some back on the shelf and looks for others.]
...I think it'll be okay.
[He trusts John, but that feels stupid to say, so he doesn't. He trusts Terezi, too, and that is stupid, given that the last time he talked to her she was hungover as shit in a downward clownhate spiral. Dave doesn't bring her up, either, just scoots up so he can rest his nose in Karkat's hair like it's his personal snoot nest. It means he's talking into Karkat's forehead, but whatever, Katkat can deal.]
Statistically speaking, there's got to be a timeline out there where we didn't...where shit didn't catapult so completely off the handle. Maybe John's whatever thing's gonna make it exist, I don't know.
[It certainly doesn't jive with Time as Dave understands it, but John's not a liar and this is too complex (and also, mean as hell?) to be a prank. He sighs across Karkat's hair.]
I just. Even if I personally don't get to partake in whatever bullshit reward's supposed to be waiting on the other side, I'd like to think that...I dunno. That some version of me could at least pull it off. ...That we could be okay.
[And he knows it doesn't work that way for everyone. Maybe it's just him. Maybe that's just the kind of personality it takes for a guy to rewind time like a spool of tape and turn into a bird.]
It's better than thinking we were fucked from the start.
[Katkat can pretend to deal, but the fact of the matter is that Dave talking into his forehead means that Dave is repeatedly brushing his lips against said forehead and holy fuck it tickles why. He doesn't squirm, nor does he headbutt his moirail in the mouth to fucking make him stop already, but he's definitely fidgeting and inattentive even though he really should be neither. This is a serious conversation, goddammit. Any and all stupid, fluttery feelings can go hurl themselves off the nearest building.
(Un?)fortunately, the shit Dave is saying is more than enough to snap Karkat out of it, and he inhales sharply before he can stop himself, his features twisting into a grimace. Some version of them. Some other—fuck. Fucking... fuck, that's just such utter bullshit.]
Isn't that the same thing? Every version of us is fucked except one. Isn't that just—
[He cuts himself off and lets his head thunk against Dave's chin, then nuzzles under it for the express purpose of muffling further grumbles into his moirail's neck. That probably also tickles way too goddamn much to tolerate, but he's feeling vindictive and more than slightly pissed at just... everything. Fuck everything. Everything is stupid and pointless and ugh.]
Sorry. I know we've already talked about this, I just... fuck. I don't get how you can be okay with it. It's probably because you're a fucking time player, they're always "0kay" with all the horrific doucheshittery that gets thrown at us.
[Sort of. Not really. God, when is the last time he even thought about Aradia? Pretty recently, actually. And Sollux. And...
Echoing Dave's sigh, he huddles closer. He's acting like a wiggler and he's not even sure that he cares right now; it's either that or scream or break down sobbing or all of the above. Like he's not already close to that point.]
[And just like that, Dave drops it like a cooked food tuber. Having Karkat all tucked into his throat is way more important than pursuing that train of thought, or shying away from how Karkat's breathing tickles against his skin. He just absorbs it because anything that moves him away from Karkat or vice versa is inherently a conksuck idea and was probably thought up by immigrants. To distract himself, he starts drawing on Karkat's back with his finger.
It might be random shapes and squiggles. It might also be dicks. Look, Dave's comfortable, dicks just happen.]
Nice of you to be all concerned about me. When you realized something was up with me and Naoya, I mean. 'M not...used to that. Are you hungry?
[With that lovely non sequitur, Dave turns his head a little, flails blindly, knocks a thankfully closed Happiny Meal box over and then brings it close enough to smell. Mmmm. Grease.]
[Dave, stop being racist when you're cuddling with your alien boyfriend. Brofriend. Whatever. Either way, Karkat is not going to be moved by something as simple as French fries; he has priorities, goddammit, and cuddling the shit out of this moron is oh fuck those actually do smell really good. Goddammit.
Sighing, he peels away a little and stares at the Happiny Meal box, his eyes narrowed. This is cheating.]
Well you're just going to have to get used to it. And yeah, I could eat.
[He glances back at Dave again, then sneaks back into nudge under his chin one last time just sort of because. It's kind of nice to be able to do that without horns in the way, not that he isn't still being very careful about how he angles his head regardless. It'd just be too fucking weird otherwise.]
You're feeling better, right?
[Dave doesn't seem like he isn't, but shut up, he's allowed to be completely fucking neurotic and ask anyway. They'd been talking obliquely about Bro, so it has to be warranted.]
[Fucking hell, Karkat, stop doing that, it makes him feel way too happy and nice. Like a pancake flipping all warm and fluffy in his stomach. Holy shit, pancakes again, Dave needs to make sure to eat before they do this pile stuff from now on. He rubs his nose in Karkat's hair instead.]
Mm-hm. [He thinks about it, then plants a light, little kiss on Karkat's crown.] Wasn't ever feeling that bad in the first place. You were careful.
[But he is hungry, and he finally rolls over onto his front--towards Karkat, not away--and finds another Happiny Meal to open. The chicken nuggets are his, he is starving.]
And it's...I dunno, kind of okay in the first place. Like, he can't hurt me, so. [He makes a face, because that sounds bad, like he's admitting Bro hurt him, and shoves a nugget halfway into his mouth to mask the pause. After swallowing his mouthful, he finishes:] If I keep talking to him, maybe I can work through that shit in the background, without getting the dude's delicate feefees involved.
[Do they need to go on another breakfast dinner date. They can totally go on another breakfast dinner date, he is so down. Also, nope, can't stop, won't stop, especially if Dave is going to actually kiss him because of it. That had been a kiss, right? He didn't imagine it?
Karkat's grinning like an idiot regardless when Dave rolls over, even if he's trying really fucking hard not to. Again, fluttery feelings have no goddamn place in this conversation, why are they happening. Dave needs to stop being so goddamn wonderful and understanding this instant. Just. Gnngh.
The Happiny Meal is exactly the sort of distraction Karkat needs, and so he busies himself with liberating some fries from their disturbingly cheerful prison while Dave speaks, concern prompting him to look up just in time to catch that face. He's not sure what it's supposed to mean, but—]
That's a fucking awful plan.
[... What? He calls it like he sees it. He's quick to return his focus to his fries, though, relenting at least a tiny bit.]
I mean, I guess it's better than dumping on some guy who's totally uninvolved in that shit, but... you have to talk it out with someone eventually, you know? Or you should.
[He frowns, hating himself for hating the deliberate implication that Dave doesn't necessarily have to talk to him about it, even if he is his fucking moirail. He should have learned to let this shit go already.]
Just... try not to take shit too personally, I guess. And I'm always here if, you know. If there's anything bothering you.
[Wow. Try to sound more pathetically insecure, Past Karkat, Dave obviously hasn't had enough of your shit already. Fuck, why does he even open his mouth?]
[For one long-stretched second, Dave looks like he's seriously contemplating mooshing a chicken nugget into Karkat's hair.]
I'm not so desperately fucked up over this I need to cheat on you, dude.
[The chicken nugget's popped into his mouth in the end, but he's not done. He covers his mouth, chews, swallows, and continues:]
Like, first of all, fuck getting into it again with someone else, I am not about that endless snot and dehydration life.
[And honestly, the number of people who'd get his situation without weeks of explanation? He can't count it on one hand, but only because there's nothing to count.]
Second of all, fuck getting into it with someone who's not gonna cuddle me while saying derogatory things about my intelligence. Such a person obviously wouldn't get me and my complex emotional needs, I am a delicate peach who must be treated properly, no one feels me like you do, et cetera. Aw hell yes, Angry Spearow toys.
[He probably would have deserved it if Dave had, but there will be other chances to gift him with a nugget-to-the-hair. Until then, Karkat is... going to wear a pained sort of smile that does a frankly shit job of hiding how fuckawful he feels for having implied any of that. Angry Spearow toys, haha. Ha. Haaah.
The smile drops.]
I'm sorry. I just—
[—can't help but feel like I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Dave's a really good moirail, all right? And Karkat's not fucking used to having nice things and, wow, okay, he's not going to say any of this out loud ever. They've trodden this territory before, so there's no fucking point in bringing it up again. He just needs to deal with it.]
His face softens all at once, brow gentling and mouth returning from its sarcastic set. Nah, nuh-uh, Karkat Vantas isn't allowed to feel like that, and if he does--when he does--Dave's gonna fix it, every time.
He wipes his McNugget hand cursorily on his pants and touches Karkat's face with the other, careful, not doing anything yet but sliding it under his cheek, tilting Karkat's head just enough so Dave can see. His voice is quieter, lower.]
Third of all. Who'd take care of you while I was off losing my shit wantonly in the streets?
[He brings his other hand up and frames Karkat's face between both his palms, studying his expression carefully, steadily. Lightly, his thumbs tap Karkat's temples, and he slides his fingertips up and back, combing dark hair behind Karkat's ears, freeing his face momentarily. He does it again, with the flats of his fingers this time.]
I'm getting chicken grease all up in your hair, please tell me you'll shower after I'm done conciliating you into oblivion.
[—"Losing my shit wantonly in the streets." Okay, Dave, what the fuck, that thing where you phrase things in inexplicably gross ways is still a thing that's happening that really needs to not. Karkat can't deny that it's helping in some equally confusing way that probably means there's something seriously fucking wrong with him (like that was ever up for debate), but he can't even bring himself to smile at it because why does he always do this. It isn't intentional, it isn't, but he keeps losing his shit when he's supposed to be handling his moirails and god he is the worst fucking failure of a troll, he can't even do his fucking job when he's in that quadrant with a human. Dave is spectacularly fucked up, there's no denying that, but goddammit, it's—he's—
Karkat squeezes his eyes shut and leans into the touch, trying to just—fucking—stop. Just stop. Stop making it worse, stop acting like he has any right at all to oh wow okay that feels nice. The smell of chicken is making him hungry again, but it's not as distracting as it could be or even as distracting as the realization that he's going to need to find some way to get Dave back for this even if he has only the palest of intentions. This douchebag.
... Seriously, though, what the fuck, "conciliating you into oblivion?" This is not a fucking porno, who even talks like that? Dave, that's who. Christ.]
I don't even need to say anything derogatory about your intelligence with you tripping over yourself to open your gaping meal tunnel and release whatever explosive bout of flatulence you're passing off as language these days. If someone can't piece together how full of shit you are from that alone, they fucking deserve whatever auditory horrors you inevitably unleash.
[... he's feeling better, in other words, or possibly just trying very, very hard to pretend that he is. He's getting there.]
None of that mentioned a shower, so I'm gonna take it as, 'No, Dave, I am so non-sexily enamored of your deep-fried Torchic gristle scent that I choose to wear it as a token forever, ministrate to me even more tenderly.'
[Even if it's better, Dave doesn't stop, neither with the careful attention nor the petting. He keeps watching Karkat's face as he sinks his fingers into his hair and slowly scritches his way around to the back, massaging his scalp, thumbs gliding after to smooth springy locks back. Rinse and repeat. He's glad, weirdly, that they got into this thing after he already practiced some hella petting techniques with his Pokémon--but that's such a bizarre thought to have that he kicks it out of his headspace immediately.
(Is that why people get dogs and cats, relationship practice? No, wait, it's to learn how to be responsible for something, right? ...Still weirdly applicable to moirallegiance, anyway.)
He uses his whole hand to flatten Karkat's hair up and away from his forehead and tilts his head a little, open.]
Talk to me? You don't have to, I won't push it, but you can, you know? [Dave thumbs another stray clump of hair off Karkat's face again. God, how does he keep it out of his eyes? He breathes out, a little wry, a little self-aware.] Fact: It'll keep coming up if you don't.
[... Thank you, Dave, for that beautiful illustration of literally everything Karkat just said. What the fuck.
He huffs but doesn't bother contradicting him, both because it would only prompt another logorrheic tsunami and because the hands on his scalp are making a convincing case against doing practically anything. They're also spreading chicken grease fucking everywhere, but that's a sacrifice he's just going to have to live with. Maybe he should steal one of Dave's pillows before his shower and rub his head all over it. That would fucking show him.
Petty revenge fantasies do nothing to distract him from what Dave says next, unfortunately, and Karkat spends a breathless second or two wondering if he can get away with pretending he hadn't heard it before the realization of how much that would probably hurt Dave make him dismiss it. Oh, joy, even more guilt! Fuck, why is he so... ugh.
He opens his eyes again, steals a glance at Dave's face, then looks away. This is stupid. He's being stupid. But—]
It's nothing new. I'm just—[a complete fuckup]—just, you know, fucking awful at being a moirail, can't even keep my own shit out of yours, it's a fucking fecal orgy up in here. I'll stop, okay? I just—I, I don't want you to get t-tired of me, so I'll stop. I'm sorry.
[He's either smothering Dave or getting too caught up in his own self-hating bullshit to even think about taking care of Dave or he's completely fucking misunderstanding human relationships, moirallegiance, or Dave in particular, and who the fuck wants a moirail like that? He's tired of himself.]
He's going to game his way back to life somehow and shank a purple motherfucker. Through time. 8)
Dave makes a 'hmm' sound as he cleans his hands one last time in Karkat's hair, then worms his arms securely around his best sad alien bro, scooching up close.]
Okay, I hear that. Hold on a sec. Hup.
[And he just rolls onto his back and lifts and drags Karkat halfway on top of him, slightly diagonal so that Dave can stare up past his head at the ceiling and Karkat doesn't have to worry about making eye contact with him during this trying emotional time. And also so Karkat doesn't accidentally knee him in the crotch or something. This is fine. Karkat is the blanket, now, it's him.
Dave rubs his back with both hands, up and down. This shouldn't be so fuckin' comfortable, god damn.]
...Haaaas it occurred to you...
[He says, when it seems pretty obvious that it hasn't, because if it had then they wouldn't be having this conversation, Jesus Christ, Dave is never letting this asshole turd go. He does have to loosen his grip a little to be able to look at Karkat's face at all. Eye contact's important for this part, at least.]
That it's actually kind of perfectly reasonable for that shit to be coming up at times like these? Since, you know. Your first moirail was an utter nutfucking bastard to you without cause, making you believe the expired manure coming out of your face right now?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Yeah, he's okay. [Mmmgh. He rolls the taste of that in his mouth for a second, then amends the statement.] I'm okay with him. It's not him, not really.
[Well, it is, sort of. Dave doesn't have this problem with anyone else.]
I can't...get into everything. His secrets, not mine, you know? Pretty sure this one's on me anyway, he's been nothing but cool with me.
no subject
He wastes a few more seconds wiggler meal whatever-the-fuck before "casually" opening it and plucking out a nugget. If Dave doesn't start eating some of his own, he swears he's going to hold the asshole down and shove some into his meal tunnel.]
But he bothers you. Right? Or something about him reminds you of something that bothers you?
[He's trying to sound casual and failing miserably. Just fucking talk to him, goddammit, Dave.]
no subject
It's not quite the problem now, and he rubs at a seam on one of their quilts, tries to smooth out the wrinkles in the fabric.]
He reminds me of...
[No, don't trail off. Deep breath. Say it. Just say it, asshole.]
Bro. [He glances at Karkat, away again, but then comes back to his face immediately. Stays there. Swallows.] He reminds me of my bro. So. [Faux-relaxed shrug.] Complicated; shitty reasons.
no subject
Fuck. Just... fuck.
He drops the nugget he'd been contemplating back into the box and sets both aside. He can wait to eat, whatever, not important. Just. Goddammit, Dave.]
You haven't told him.
[It would be a question, but considering the fact that he knows Dave, yeah, no. Of course the idiot hasn't told anyone. In fact, Karkat's probably the first person he's mentioned this to at all, isn't he?]
no subject
[Because that is the most damning thing he can say about the man who threw him off the roof of a high-rise when he was an infant.
(It kind of is, if only because he can't say anything else without his throat closing up.)]
He knows he's done something similar to something Bro did, too. Or didn't do, more like. That's all.
why ARE you awake
Karkat says nothing, just hauls himself a little straighter then—no, what, fuck this. Sagging back down so he can stare Dave in the eye it is, especially if he can scoot over and fling an arm around his moirail in the process. Proper posture can go fuck itself; hug time is now.]
Is it something he's still doing? Or still hasn't done. I mean, it's... something bad, right?
[He can't help but cringe at the phrasing, but what the fuck else is he supposed to call it, really. Whatever Dave is actually objecting to has to be horrendously bad, right? It's Dave.]
Because I had to watch Digimon and I have no control over my life
I guess it depends on your perspective. What he did, maybe it saved a lot of people. But to do that, he...some personal sacrifices got made along the way, let's say.
[Dave breathes out and finally relaxes a little into the hug.]
Anyway, he can't do it here. And he said it was over, anyway. The thing he was trying to do.
[Apocalypses, am I right. Can't live with 'em, can't apparently fucking exist without 'em.]
But, I think, given the chance, he...yeah, I think he still would.
"had to"
And... right. That.
He snuggles closer, his arms winding around the idiot again because why not. Shut up.]
Do you think you would feel better? If you both talked about it.
[Because that's the important part, really. The other stuff is still significant, sure, whatever, but for Karkat, Dave's mental and emotional health would always be the top priority.]
Well yes I am a host on a Digimon podcast, there is some level of obligation there
Naw. No way, dude, not ever. It's...he didn't do anything to me, so dumping Bro shit on him and making comparisons would just, it'd make him feel bad and it'd make me feel bad, and it's not like either of us would get any closure on our bullshit 'cause he's not Bro and I'm not--I'm not his cousin. Brother. Guy.
[...That probably said too much, right there. He shakes his head a little, eyes shut.]
It's me, it's not him. Our damage just intersects in really unfortunate ways, so it's not...it's not, I don't know. His business, I guess? [Bleh. He nuzzles in closer.] If I can barely even bring myself to acknowledge that shit with you, I'm definitely not gonna touch it with him.
why you gotta ruin it with logic
He hugs Dave tighter. Because.]
All right, you've made your fucking point. I just. [He makes a disgusted sound under his breath.] It sucks massive, hairy teat that you're stuck having to deal with this on your own. I mean, you have me and Jade and John, but... fuck, I don't know. You don't deserve any of this shit.
[It isn't fair. It never is. And fuck Naoya anyway for not being an appropriate stand-in for Dave to work through all of these damn issues somehow. Someone like that probably doesn't exist anyway, but god wouldn't that solve a whole bunch of problems at once.]
Because that's what I do. Ruin things.
Dave sits (or lies, he guesses) with that statement for a moment before lifting his head away just a bit and stroking Karkat's hair back slowly from his forehead, eyes solemn, soft.]
Neither do you. Or Jade, or John.
[Were any of them ever not alone when they had to face the worst parts of their lives? Dave can't remember.
...Karkat's still the only troll in Johto. Dave tries to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, just rubs his thumb in a circle above it when it doesn't stay.]
Not my shit necessarily. Just. All the shit. The shit in general. [He lets his hand still, framing Karkat's face.] ...It's not right.
no subject
He shuts his eyes and nuzzles the hand, either ignoring or just not caring that doing so effectively ruins whatever vague attempt his moirail had been making to straighten his hair. It's a lot cause anyway.]
It's almost okay, being here. Away from that.
[He says it without really thinking, his eyes flicking open briefly to peek at Dave's face before closing again. Why the fuck did he open his mouth, argh.]
Just wish we didn't have to wonder about... the rest of it.
[The fate of their timeline, the lives of their friends, and on and on and on. Assuming John's bullshit quest worked at all. As an unrelenting pessimist, Karkat has his doubts.]
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...I think it'll be okay.
[He trusts John, but that feels stupid to say, so he doesn't. He trusts Terezi, too, and that is stupid, given that the last time he talked to her she was hungover as shit in a downward clownhate spiral. Dave doesn't bring her up, either, just scoots up so he can rest his nose in Karkat's hair like it's his personal snoot nest. It means he's talking into Karkat's forehead, but whatever, Katkat can deal.]
Statistically speaking, there's got to be a timeline out there where we didn't...where shit didn't catapult so completely off the handle. Maybe John's whatever thing's gonna make it exist, I don't know.
[It certainly doesn't jive with Time as Dave understands it, but John's not a liar and this is too complex (and also, mean as hell?) to be a prank. He sighs across Karkat's hair.]
I just. Even if I personally don't get to partake in whatever bullshit reward's supposed to be waiting on the other side, I'd like to think that...I dunno. That some version of me could at least pull it off. ...That we could be okay.
[And he knows it doesn't work that way for everyone. Maybe it's just him. Maybe that's just the kind of personality it takes for a guy to rewind time like a spool of tape and turn into a bird.]
It's better than thinking we were fucked from the start.
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(Un?)fortunately, the shit Dave is saying is more than enough to snap Karkat out of it, and he inhales sharply before he can stop himself, his features twisting into a grimace. Some version of them. Some other—fuck. Fucking... fuck, that's just such utter bullshit.]
Isn't that the same thing? Every version of us is fucked except one. Isn't that just—
[He cuts himself off and lets his head thunk against Dave's chin, then nuzzles under it for the express purpose of muffling further grumbles into his moirail's neck. That probably also tickles way too goddamn much to tolerate, but he's feeling vindictive and more than slightly pissed at just... everything. Fuck everything. Everything is stupid and pointless and ugh.]
Sorry. I know we've already talked about this, I just... fuck. I don't get how you can be okay with it. It's probably because you're a fucking time player, they're always "0kay" with all the horrific doucheshittery that gets thrown at us.
[Sort of. Not really. God, when is the last time he even thought about Aradia? Pretty recently, actually. And Sollux. And...
Echoing Dave's sigh, he huddles closer. He's acting like a wiggler and he's not even sure that he cares right now; it's either that or scream or break down sobbing or all of the above. Like he's not already close to that point.]
Can we talk about something else?
[Before he loses it. Again.]
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[And just like that, Dave drops it like a cooked food tuber. Having Karkat all tucked into his throat is way more important than pursuing that train of thought, or shying away from how Karkat's breathing tickles against his skin. He just absorbs it because anything that moves him away from Karkat or vice versa is inherently a conksuck idea and was probably thought up by immigrants. To distract himself, he starts drawing on Karkat's back with his finger.
It might be random shapes and squiggles. It might also be dicks. Look, Dave's comfortable, dicks just happen.]
Nice of you to be all concerned about me. When you realized something was up with me and Naoya, I mean. 'M not...used to that. Are you hungry?
[With that lovely non sequitur, Dave turns his head a little, flails blindly, knocks a thankfully closed Happiny Meal box over and then brings it close enough to smell. Mmmm. Grease.]
French fries suck cold, dude.
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Sighing, he peels away a little and stares at the Happiny Meal box, his eyes narrowed. This is cheating.]
Well you're just going to have to get used to it. And yeah, I could eat.
[He glances back at Dave again, then sneaks back into nudge under his chin one last time just sort of because. It's kind of nice to be able to do that without horns in the way, not that he isn't still being very careful about how he angles his head regardless. It'd just be too fucking weird otherwise.]
You're feeling better, right?
[Dave doesn't seem like he isn't, but shut up, he's allowed to be completely fucking neurotic and ask anyway. They'd been talking obliquely about Bro, so it has to be warranted.]
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Mm-hm. [He thinks about it, then plants a light, little kiss on Karkat's crown.] Wasn't ever feeling that bad in the first place. You were careful.
[But he is hungry, and he finally rolls over onto his front--towards Karkat, not away--and finds another Happiny Meal to open. The chicken nuggets are his, he is starving.]
And it's...I dunno, kind of okay in the first place. Like, he can't hurt me, so. [He makes a face, because that sounds bad, like he's admitting Bro hurt him, and shoves a nugget halfway into his mouth to mask the pause. After swallowing his mouthful, he finishes:] If I keep talking to him, maybe I can work through that shit in the background, without getting the dude's delicate feefees involved.
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Karkat's grinning like an idiot regardless when Dave rolls over, even if he's trying really fucking hard not to. Again, fluttery feelings have no goddamn place in this conversation, why are they happening. Dave needs to stop being so goddamn wonderful and understanding this instant. Just. Gnngh.
The Happiny Meal is exactly the sort of distraction Karkat needs, and so he busies himself with liberating some fries from their disturbingly cheerful prison while Dave speaks, concern prompting him to look up just in time to catch that face. He's not sure what it's supposed to mean, but—]
That's a fucking awful plan.
[... What? He calls it like he sees it. He's quick to return his focus to his fries, though, relenting at least a tiny bit.]
I mean, I guess it's better than dumping on some guy who's totally uninvolved in that shit, but... you have to talk it out with someone eventually, you know? Or you should.
[He frowns, hating himself for hating the deliberate implication that Dave doesn't necessarily have to talk to him about it, even if he is his fucking moirail. He should have learned to let this shit go already.]
Just... try not to take shit too personally, I guess. And I'm always here if, you know. If there's anything bothering you.
[Wow. Try to sound more pathetically insecure, Past Karkat, Dave obviously hasn't had enough of your shit already. Fuck, why does he even open his mouth?]
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I'm not so desperately fucked up over this I need to cheat on you, dude.
[The chicken nugget's popped into his mouth in the end, but he's not done. He covers his mouth, chews, swallows, and continues:]
Like, first of all, fuck getting into it again with someone else, I am not about that endless snot and dehydration life.
[And honestly, the number of people who'd get his situation without weeks of explanation? He can't count it on one hand, but only because there's nothing to count.]
Second of all, fuck getting into it with someone who's not gonna cuddle me while saying derogatory things about my intelligence. Such a person obviously wouldn't get me and my complex emotional needs, I am a delicate peach who must be treated properly, no one feels me like you do, et cetera. Aw hell yes, Angry Spearow toys.
[Why.]
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The smile drops.]
I'm sorry. I just—
[—can't help but feel like I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Dave's a really good moirail, all right? And Karkat's not fucking used to having nice things and, wow, okay, he's not going to say any of this out loud ever. They've trodden this territory before, so there's no fucking point in bringing it up again. He just needs to deal with it.]
... Sorry.
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His face softens all at once, brow gentling and mouth returning from its sarcastic set. Nah, nuh-uh, Karkat Vantas isn't allowed to feel like that, and if he does--when he does--Dave's gonna fix it, every time.
He wipes his McNugget hand cursorily on his pants and touches Karkat's face with the other, careful, not doing anything yet but sliding it under his cheek, tilting Karkat's head just enough so Dave can see. His voice is quieter, lower.]
Third of all. Who'd take care of you while I was off losing my shit wantonly in the streets?
[He brings his other hand up and frames Karkat's face between both his palms, studying his expression carefully, steadily. Lightly, his thumbs tap Karkat's temples, and he slides his fingertips up and back, combing dark hair behind Karkat's ears, freeing his face momentarily. He does it again, with the flats of his fingers this time.]
I'm getting chicken grease all up in your hair, please tell me you'll shower after I'm done conciliating you into oblivion.
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Karkat squeezes his eyes shut and leans into the touch, trying to just—fucking—stop. Just stop. Stop making it worse, stop acting like he has any right at all to oh wow okay that feels nice. The smell of chicken is making him hungry again, but it's not as distracting as it could be or even as distracting as the realization that he's going to need to find some way to get Dave back for this even if he has only the palest of intentions. This douchebag.
... Seriously, though, what the fuck, "conciliating you into oblivion?" This is not a fucking porno, who even talks like that? Dave, that's who. Christ.]
I don't even need to say anything derogatory about your intelligence with you tripping over yourself to open your gaping meal tunnel and release whatever explosive bout of flatulence you're passing off as language these days. If someone can't piece together how full of shit you are from that alone, they fucking deserve whatever auditory horrors you inevitably unleash.
[... he's feeling better, in other words, or possibly just trying very, very hard to pretend that he is. He's getting there.]
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None of that mentioned a shower, so I'm gonna take it as, 'No, Dave, I am so non-sexily enamored of your deep-fried Torchic gristle scent that I choose to wear it as a token forever, ministrate to me even more tenderly.'
[Even if it's better, Dave doesn't stop, neither with the careful attention nor the petting. He keeps watching Karkat's face as he sinks his fingers into his hair and slowly scritches his way around to the back, massaging his scalp, thumbs gliding after to smooth springy locks back. Rinse and repeat. He's glad, weirdly, that they got into this thing after he already practiced some hella petting techniques with his Pokémon--but that's such a bizarre thought to have that he kicks it out of his headspace immediately.
(Is that why people get dogs and cats, relationship practice? No, wait, it's to learn how to be responsible for something, right? ...Still weirdly applicable to moirallegiance, anyway.)
He uses his whole hand to flatten Karkat's hair up and away from his forehead and tilts his head a little, open.]
Talk to me? You don't have to, I won't push it, but you can, you know? [Dave thumbs another stray clump of hair off Karkat's face again. God, how does he keep it out of his eyes? He breathes out, a little wry, a little self-aware.] Fact: It'll keep coming up if you don't.
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He huffs but doesn't bother contradicting him, both because it would only prompt another logorrheic tsunami and because the hands on his scalp are making a convincing case against doing practically anything. They're also spreading chicken grease fucking everywhere, but that's a sacrifice he's just going to have to live with. Maybe he should steal one of Dave's pillows before his shower and rub his head all over it. That would fucking show him.
Petty revenge fantasies do nothing to distract him from what Dave says next, unfortunately, and Karkat spends a breathless second or two wondering if he can get away with pretending he hadn't heard it before the realization of how much that would probably hurt Dave make him dismiss it. Oh, joy, even more guilt! Fuck, why is he so... ugh.
He opens his eyes again, steals a glance at Dave's face, then looks away. This is stupid. He's being stupid. But—]
It's nothing new. I'm just—[a complete fuckup]—just, you know, fucking awful at being a moirail, can't even keep my own shit out of yours, it's a fucking fecal orgy up in here. I'll stop, okay? I just—I, I don't want you to get t-tired of me, so I'll stop. I'm sorry.
[He's either smothering Dave or getting too caught up in his own self-hating bullshit to even think about taking care of Dave or he's completely fucking misunderstanding human relationships, moirallegiance, or Dave in particular, and who the fuck wants a moirail like that? He's tired of himself.]
I'll stop.
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He's going to game his way back to life somehow and shank a purple motherfucker. Through time. 8)
Dave makes a 'hmm' sound as he cleans his hands one last time in Karkat's hair, then worms his arms securely around his best sad alien bro, scooching up close.]
Okay, I hear that. Hold on a sec. Hup.
[And he just rolls onto his back and lifts and drags Karkat halfway on top of him, slightly diagonal so that Dave can stare up past his head at the ceiling and Karkat doesn't have to worry about making eye contact with him during this trying emotional time. And also so Karkat doesn't accidentally knee him in the crotch or something. This is fine. Karkat is the blanket, now, it's him.
Dave rubs his back with both hands, up and down. This shouldn't be so fuckin' comfortable, god damn.]
...Haaaas it occurred to you...
[He says, when it seems pretty obvious that it hasn't, because if it had then they wouldn't be having this conversation, Jesus Christ, Dave is never letting this asshole turd go. He does have to loosen his grip a little to be able to look at Karkat's face at all. Eye contact's important for this part, at least.]
That it's actually kind of perfectly reasonable for that shit to be coming up at times like these? Since, you know. Your first moirail was an utter nutfucking bastard to you without cause, making you believe the expired manure coming out of your face right now?
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