[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?
Karkat doesn't necessarily mind being pulled on top of Dave for a lot of reasons, but he's baffled enough to actually allow eye contact in the interests of figuring out what the fuck is going on. He has a sneaking suspicion that Dave's about to impart some piece of profound wisdom/phenomenal fucking stupidity masquerading as such, but that's normal, not something his moirail needs to preempt by hauling Karkat into an even more extreme variation of their usual cuddle pile. He returns the embrace automatically because of course he fucking does, but he shouldn't have to feel like he's accepting some draconian contract while doing so. Has what occurred to him? What about his firoh fucking hell.
His breath leaves him in a hiss, but as much as he really fucking wants to pull away, his arms tighten around Dave instead, his face turning to hide against his shoulder. Nnnnope, they are not talking about Gamzee or whatever effect he may or may not have had, hahaha, what, Gamzee who? That motherfucking—]
Don't. Just—just don't, Dave.
[Don't even mention him. Just—don't—fuck, that isn't even the same thing!]
He's—whatever that shit was about, his Mirthful fucking Messiahs, none of it matters anymore, all right? It's nothing. He probably wasn't even pale for me, why the fuck should I care?
[His breath hitches, and unconsciously, his arms wind even tighter around his moirail. Both of these things are Completely. Fucking. Normal. What is Dave even talking about?]
I'm—I was talking about you, not that, that fucking clown. Fuck that guy. What the fuck else do you want? I don't want to talk about Gamzee.
[For a second, Dave thinks he must've made an irreparable miscalculation--that'd show him to take an emotional risk, even when he was so sure--but no. He blinks, because the venom in Karkat's words doesn't match at all the strength with which he's clinging to Dave, and that's not right, Dave's usually the one whose body language doesn't match what his mouth is doing.
His hands unfreeze, and he strokes them both down Karkat's shoulder blades and then holds him securely again with one arm, runs the other hand up into his hair again. He doesn't shoosh him even if he wants to; don't draw attention to it, this is the perfectly reasonable reaction of a reasonable troll and they can talk (or, much more likely, not talk) about it when Karkat's calmed down.]
Okay. We won't.
[See? No pushing, he's as good as his word.
(He doesn't think he needs to. Left to his own devices, Karkat will take a gentle poke and worry it into a shredded, gaping hole, and if that hole's in the idiot veil of self-blame that's keeping him from seeing the truth of his situation, Dave will have done his job.
Christ. Is this how Rose and Terezi feel when they wind him up with a word and let him go? Interpersonal awareness is weird, he's not sure he likes it.)
Dave stretches his neck so that Karkat can fit even more comfortably into his shoulder, rests the side of his face against Karkat's ear, keeps working his fingers through Karkat's hair.]
I'm just saying, you must be holding yourself up to some ass-whack standards if you think you're not a good moirail for me. You know I don't expect you to be some kind of towering figure of fine when we've gone through so much of the same shit, right?
[No pushing and Dave is saying—much kinder things than Karkat deserves, fuck, does he actually think it's that simple? Is this confusion over moirallegiance, Dave being fucking stupid, or some misconception he has about Karkat in general? It's probably all of the above; there's no fucking way he'd be saying any of that if he knew the full picture.
Karkat shudders and burrows closer, fully exploiting the space offered and nuzzling determinedly back because eve ry thing is fuck ing fine, he's perfectly calm and not breathing too fast and definitely not still clinging to Dave like a lifeline. Give him a minute and maybe all of that will even be true.]
What fucking standards? I know I'm not—that I don't have to be perfect for you.
[He's sullen but no longer panicked, not that he had been or ever will be panicked. What the fuck is wrong with him? Dave's already let it go, so it's fine.]
I mean, perfectly well-adjusted and, and fucking rational, because that oceanic exploration vessel has fucking sailed. I just, I should be better at knowing when you... knowing you. And not fucking up whenever I open my mouth.
[Like now, for instance. As usual.
He takes a deep breath, holds, releases.]
And I'm—I'm shit about telling you things and knowing when to back off and I still don't understand how your fucking human relationships work. You're the one who's new to moirallegiance, but you—you're adapting better than I am. Fuck, I've already said half of that shit before, haven't I? This is stupid.
[And a point to Dave because yeah, it's going to keep coming up until he deals with it.]
['Maybe because my heart didn't get its ass handed to it on a platter by a codpieced piece of shit who was supposed to be my moirail,' Dave thinks but doesn't say.]
I mean, to be fair, I don't really get how fucking human relationships work, either.
[On account of having precisely zero functional human-to-human ones that weren't established over distances measured in hundreds of miles, hahaha okay no let's not talk about that.]
Just...dude, I think that's normal? That we're learning new shit about each other having entered into this relationship thing. It's only been a month, of course you don't know all my goddamn idiosyncratic pathologies, I had seventeen years to develop them. They've got, like, whole character arcs and complex subplots to them, they fucking create themselves at this point, they're like their own whole independent ecology. You map this out, you may as well have earned yourself three human PhD's in one go.
[Agh, stop, pay attention. Dave reins it in, tries to find his place again, rearranges his arms so he's got the other one around Karkat now and the freed hand can stroke his spine.]
I'm shit at telling you things, too, bro. And knowing when to...when not to back off. When you need...when you need someone there.
[There's a familiar rhythm to Dave's rambling, one that Karkat is probably only aware of because he spends way too much fucking time with this human, but that doesn't make it any less soothing as he lapses into it. "Idiosyncratic pathologies"—that's definitely Rose, right there, but the rest is all Dave.
Actually, he's not sure about "independent ecology," either, but he's not going to fucking question it right now. It's close enough.
His eyes close, and when he breathes again, it's much more natural. Calm. He is so fucking calm. Mostly.]
So we should work on that? Being better at... talking about shit. Or not talking about shit. Whatever.
[He does not like where this is going, mostly because—okay, if there's one thing he's been meaning to talk about with Dave and has been senselessly putting off forever... hahaha, no, fuck, he just got done saying he didn't want to talk about it, this is so not the place to start.
He lifts his head a little and turns it, seeking... something. Fine, eye contact. He wants eye contact, is that a crime.]
[Yes. It is a crime. Karkat Vantas is now under arrest for felonious misunderstanding of being the best moirail a horrendously fucked-up and emotionally damaged human could ask for, sentencing TBA. Probably five to twenty hard time getting vigorous headpets until he gets it, Jesus.
Dave meets those eyes, though, and if his flick away for a second, it's only to think, to weigh the question before he agrees. He's back in no time.]
I guess?
[Shit. Karkat's really close to his face. Looking at him like this, Dave's cheeks warm a little under the faint freckles springtime's starting to draw out of his pale-ass skin. He keeps rubbing Karkat's back and hopes it's attributable to embarrassment over, like, all this emotional vulnerability and crap.]
Um, maybe in increments. [Pet, pet. He shifts a little under Karkat's weight.] Last time I tried talking about--about Bro, it. I felt kind of weird afterwards.
[Like he'd strained some kind of emotional muscle with the effort. Christ, that isn't even a thing.]
That might've been too much in one go, so, you know. Maybe we should try not to push ourselves too hard, while also, like. Maintaining the open channel.
[... In increments. Right. Open channel. What? At least the fact that Dave clearly has no fucking idea what he's talking about is helping to hammer in the point that Karkat doesn't need to be totally perfect, even if he still wants to be. He'd never make the mistake of thinking he could be actually perfect, but a perfect moirail for Dave?If he can be that, then...
He sighs and lets his head drop back down, giving Dave a totally superfluous squeeze at the same time. Good human, best headrest. More back rubs, please, he's almost feeling normal again.]
So... a little bit at a time, so it won't be too much.
[He can do that, even if he also kind of doesn't want to because he'd rather get it the fuck over with if he's going to talk about that shit at all. About Gamzee. Dave, though... yeah, all of his issues have to be handled more carefully. The last thing Karkat wants is for him to withdraw and pretend shit is fine when it so clearly isn't. Again.]
How much per increment? Or are we just going to stop whenever the fuck we've felt like we've had enough?
[He is... absolutely trying to draw out this subject for as long as possible to try and make Dave forget about the Gamzee thing. Or any other thing, really. Yes, this is healthy.]
Karkat, if you even think about setting a minimum word count on our feelings jams, I'm gonna upend an entire thing of fries over your head. And that would be an unforgivable waste of good fries.
[Also, an unforgivable waste of calm Karkat. Who knew this asshole would make such a good blanket, seriously? Dave returns to running his hands over the plane of his back, distractedly interested in the change between bone and muscle under his palms, slow and even.
God, Dave likes cuddling. Shit. He's gonna turn into some kind of snuggle junkie.]
Just saying as much as we're comfy with should be fine. We're both basically grown-ups here, I think we can handle that much. And if on any given day either of us doesn't want to, for whatever reason, I think that's fine, too. Yeah?
[Is that reasonable? He has no idea, what the fuck do normal, well-adjusted people do about this shit, oh wait normal well-adjusted people don't have to deal with this shit to begin with.]
[Eminently reasonable, yes, which is precisely why Karkat falls silent for several seconds before giving a single nod. He has completely fucking exhausted any and all stalling tactics he might have used. That's just perfect. There's no guarantee that Dave will decide to start this brand new policy of backing off less right now, though, so it's probably fine? Maybe it really is fine. Maybe he won't have to talk about it.
... Fuck, fries sound really delicious right now. Why had he stopped eating? Oh, right, because he'd fucked up a perfectly satisfactory feelings jam by getting his goddamn insecurities all over the place. Someone needs to invent PokéTrollian so he can get back to yelling at Past Karkat for being so impossibly horrible at everything ever.]
Yeah. We can do that.
[It's late and probably unnecessary (Dave should have been able to feel the nod even if he couldn't see it), but Karkat has a pressing need to hear anything at all that isn't the perpetual bullshit monologue running through his think pan 24/7. Just. Anything at all. Even one of Dave's stupid raps would work, god.
He sighs and gives his moirail a nudge.]
Come on. We're wasting the fries anyway by not eating them.
[Ignore the fact that he's the one who's, you know, on top of Dave and could easily wriggle free if he wanted to. Choosing between more cuddle time with Dave and Happiny Meals is a serious fucking dilemma.]
[Yeah, no, Dave is not implementing Operation: Suck Less At Moirallegiance, Just Apply More Sincerity (a.k.a. Operation SLAMJAMS) today, let alone right now. He's blown his weekly allotment of standing up for himself--no, shut up, it still counts even if he's holding his ground for Karkat's sake, you don't know his life.
He glances uselessly at Karkat--he can't see anything from this angle--then to the side. This is equally useless. He huffs a little breath and pats Karkat's back once, then rubs it again a little more briskly. Not to soothe, just affectionate.]
Welp, you're gonna have to feed me, bro, because I have lost visuals on the target. All I got on radar is fuckall and a side of shit. I must've sunk under the titanic weight of the asshole on top of me.
[Piles are trolls' gift to man, but they do not exactly provide the kind of buoyant support of mattress springs.
Anyway, Dave isn't doing anything to extricate himself from this situation, titanic asshole or not. He's still petting Karkat's back, actually.
[Does he even need to point out the ~*irony*~ inherent in Dave calling him fat and requesting to be fed in the same breath. Because wow. Wow. Sure, Dave hadn't actually used the word "fat," but "titanic weight" is pretty fucking unambiguous and fuck him anyway, not everyone could be a pool noodle.
Karkat is pale enough for this asshole that the highly audible growl from his stomach stays any acerbic remarks to this effect, though; he huffs quietly instead and reluctantly starts peeling himself away. He is the one who'd brought it up, so—]
You're lucky I'm feeling magnanimous enough to not abscond with both of these and finish them off myself.
[He's trying to grumble and for once it isn't working. Focusing on how fucking aggravating it is to reach over grab the Happiny Meals sort of helps, but settling in at Dave's side again is ruining even that and asjdfklghlhasf what kind of troll is that easily pacified?
Vengefully, he steals one of Dave's chicken nuggets and eats it right in front of him. Hah.]
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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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Karkat doesn't necessarily mind being pulled on top of Dave for a lot of reasons, but he's baffled enough to actually allow eye contact in the interests of figuring out what the fuck is going on. He has a sneaking suspicion that Dave's about to impart some piece of profound wisdom/phenomenal fucking stupidity masquerading as such, but that's normal, not something his moirail needs to preempt by hauling Karkat into an even more extreme variation of their usual cuddle pile. He returns the embrace automatically because of course he fucking does, but he shouldn't have to feel like he's accepting some draconian contract while doing so. Has what occurred to him? What about his firoh fucking hell.
His breath leaves him in a hiss, but as much as he really fucking wants to pull away, his arms tighten around Dave instead, his face turning to hide against his shoulder. Nnnnope, they are not talking about Gamzee or whatever effect he may or may not have had, hahaha, what, Gamzee who? That motherfucking—]
Don't. Just—just don't, Dave.
[Don't even mention him. Just—don't—fuck, that isn't even the same thing!]
He's—whatever that shit was about, his Mirthful fucking Messiahs, none of it matters anymore, all right? It's nothing. He probably wasn't even pale for me, why the fuck should I care?
[His breath hitches, and unconsciously, his arms wind even tighter around his moirail. Both of these things are Completely. Fucking. Normal. What is Dave even talking about?]
I'm—I was talking about you, not that, that fucking clown. Fuck that guy. What the fuck else do you want? I don't want to talk about Gamzee.
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His hands unfreeze, and he strokes them both down Karkat's shoulder blades and then holds him securely again with one arm, runs the other hand up into his hair again. He doesn't shoosh him even if he wants to; don't draw attention to it, this is the perfectly reasonable reaction of a reasonable troll and they can talk (or, much more likely, not talk) about it when Karkat's calmed down.]
Okay. We won't.
[See? No pushing, he's as good as his word.
(He doesn't think he needs to. Left to his own devices, Karkat will take a gentle poke and worry it into a shredded, gaping hole, and if that hole's in the idiot veil of self-blame that's keeping him from seeing the truth of his situation, Dave will have done his job.
Christ. Is this how Rose and Terezi feel when they wind him up with a word and let him go? Interpersonal awareness is weird, he's not sure he likes it.)
Dave stretches his neck so that Karkat can fit even more comfortably into his shoulder, rests the side of his face against Karkat's ear, keeps working his fingers through Karkat's hair.]
I'm just saying, you must be holding yourself up to some ass-whack standards if you think you're not a good moirail for me. You know I don't expect you to be some kind of towering figure of fine when we've gone through so much of the same shit, right?
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Karkat shudders and burrows closer, fully exploiting the space offered and nuzzling determinedly back because eve ry thing is fuck ing fine, he's perfectly calm and not breathing too fast and definitely not still clinging to Dave like a lifeline. Give him a minute and maybe all of that will even be true.]
What fucking standards? I know I'm not—that I don't have to be perfect for you.
[He's sullen but no longer panicked, not that he had been or ever will be panicked. What the fuck is wrong with him? Dave's already let it go, so it's fine.]
I mean, perfectly well-adjusted and, and fucking rational, because that oceanic exploration vessel has fucking sailed. I just, I should be better at knowing when you... knowing you. And not fucking up whenever I open my mouth.
[Like now, for instance. As usual.
He takes a deep breath, holds, releases.]
And I'm—I'm shit about telling you things and knowing when to back off and I still don't understand how your fucking human relationships work. You're the one who's new to moirallegiance, but you—you're adapting better than I am. Fuck, I've already said half of that shit before, haven't I? This is stupid.
[And a point to Dave because yeah, it's going to keep coming up until he deals with it.]
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I mean, to be fair, I don't really get how fucking human relationships work, either.
[On account of having precisely zero functional human-to-human ones that weren't established over distances measured in hundreds of miles, hahaha okay no let's not talk about that.]
Just...dude, I think that's normal? That we're learning new shit about each other having entered into this relationship thing. It's only been a month, of course you don't know all my goddamn idiosyncratic pathologies, I had seventeen years to develop them. They've got, like, whole character arcs and complex subplots to them, they fucking create themselves at this point, they're like their own whole independent ecology. You map this out, you may as well have earned yourself three human PhD's in one go.
[Agh, stop, pay attention. Dave reins it in, tries to find his place again, rearranges his arms so he's got the other one around Karkat now and the freed hand can stroke his spine.]
I'm shit at telling you things, too, bro. And knowing when to...when not to back off. When you need...when you need someone there.
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Actually, he's not sure about "independent ecology," either, but he's not going to fucking question it right now. It's close enough.
His eyes close, and when he breathes again, it's much more natural. Calm. He is so fucking calm. Mostly.]
So we should work on that? Being better at... talking about shit. Or not talking about shit. Whatever.
[He does not like where this is going, mostly because—okay, if there's one thing he's been meaning to talk about with Dave and has been senselessly putting off forever... hahaha, no, fuck, he just got done saying he didn't want to talk about it, this is so not the place to start.
He lifts his head a little and turns it, seeking... something. Fine, eye contact. He wants eye contact, is that a crime.]
... Dave?
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Dave meets those eyes, though, and if his flick away for a second, it's only to think, to weigh the question before he agrees. He's back in no time.]
I guess?
[Shit. Karkat's really close to his face. Looking at him like this, Dave's cheeks warm a little under the faint freckles springtime's starting to draw out of his pale-ass skin. He keeps rubbing Karkat's back and hopes it's attributable to embarrassment over, like, all this emotional vulnerability and crap.]
Um, maybe in increments. [Pet, pet. He shifts a little under Karkat's weight.] Last time I tried talking about--about Bro, it. I felt kind of weird afterwards.
[Like he'd strained some kind of emotional muscle with the effort. Christ, that isn't even a thing.]
That might've been too much in one go, so, you know. Maybe we should try not to push ourselves too hard, while also, like. Maintaining the open channel.
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He sighs and lets his head drop back down, giving Dave a totally superfluous squeeze at the same time. Good human, best headrest. More back rubs, please, he's almost feeling normal again.]
So... a little bit at a time, so it won't be too much.
[He can do that, even if he also kind of doesn't want to because he'd rather get it the fuck over with if he's going to talk about that shit at all. About Gamzee. Dave, though... yeah, all of his issues have to be handled more carefully. The last thing Karkat wants is for him to withdraw and pretend shit is fine when it so clearly isn't. Again.]
How much per increment? Or are we just going to stop whenever the fuck we've felt like we've had enough?
[He is... absolutely trying to draw out this subject for as long as possible to try and make Dave forget about the Gamzee thing. Or any other thing, really. Yes, this is healthy.]
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Karkat, if you even think about setting a minimum word count on our feelings jams, I'm gonna upend an entire thing of fries over your head. And that would be an unforgivable waste of good fries.
[Also, an unforgivable waste of calm Karkat. Who knew this asshole would make such a good blanket, seriously? Dave returns to running his hands over the plane of his back, distractedly interested in the change between bone and muscle under his palms, slow and even.
God, Dave likes cuddling. Shit. He's gonna turn into some kind of snuggle junkie.]
Just saying as much as we're comfy with should be fine. We're both basically grown-ups here, I think we can handle that much. And if on any given day either of us doesn't want to, for whatever reason, I think that's fine, too. Yeah?
[Is that reasonable? He has no idea, what the fuck do normal, well-adjusted people do about this shit, oh wait normal well-adjusted people don't have to deal with this shit to begin with.]
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... Fuck, fries sound really delicious right now. Why had he stopped eating? Oh, right, because he'd fucked up a perfectly satisfactory feelings jam by getting his goddamn insecurities all over the place. Someone needs to invent PokéTrollian so he can get back to yelling at Past Karkat for being so impossibly horrible at everything ever.]
Yeah. We can do that.
[It's late and probably unnecessary (Dave should have been able to feel the nod even if he couldn't see it), but Karkat has a pressing need to hear anything at all that isn't the perpetual bullshit monologue running through his think pan 24/7. Just. Anything at all. Even one of Dave's stupid raps would work, god.
He sighs and gives his moirail a nudge.]
Come on. We're wasting the fries anyway by not eating them.
[Ignore the fact that he's the one who's, you know, on top of Dave and could easily wriggle free if he wanted to. Choosing between more cuddle time with Dave and Happiny Meals is a serious fucking dilemma.]
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He glances uselessly at Karkat--he can't see anything from this angle--then to the side. This is equally useless. He huffs a little breath and pats Karkat's back once, then rubs it again a little more briskly. Not to soothe, just affectionate.]
Welp, you're gonna have to feed me, bro, because I have lost visuals on the target. All I got on radar is fuckall and a side of shit. I must've sunk under the titanic weight of the asshole on top of me.
[Piles are trolls' gift to man, but they do not exactly provide the kind of buoyant support of mattress springs.
Anyway, Dave isn't doing anything to extricate himself from this situation, titanic asshole or not. He's still petting Karkat's back, actually.
His stomach growls.]
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Karkat is pale enough for this asshole that the highly audible growl from his stomach stays any acerbic remarks to this effect, though; he huffs quietly instead and reluctantly starts peeling himself away. He is the one who'd brought it up, so—]
You're lucky I'm feeling magnanimous enough to not abscond with both of these and finish them off myself.
[He's trying to grumble and for once it isn't working. Focusing on how fucking aggravating it is to reach over grab the Happiny Meals sort of helps, but settling in at Dave's side again is ruining even that and asjdfklghlhasf what kind of troll is that easily pacified?
Vengefully, he steals one of Dave's chicken nuggets and eats it right in front of him. Hah.]
Are you going to sit up or what?
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