Chapter Text
Dave was just such a damn distraction.
It didn't matter what he was doing. He was always there. Assembling a meal in the food preparation block: "'Sup, Karkitty?" Playing a round of Human Tetris: "Hey, Karkles." Even trying to go to the goddamn ablution trap: "What's good, Vant-ass?" That voice, soft and low and somehow different than the other humans'-- Rose had mention something about a regional dialect-- seemed to ghost behind him no matter what. And that stupid near white human hair, pointlessly soft and meticulously groomed (although he'd never admit it, he had become self-conscious of this coarse and heavy and un-fucking-tameable inky-black troll style). And that ridiculous cape. And those shades. Those fucking shades. Karkat had yet to see Dave without them.
These were not the best of times for Karkat, even without Dave being the insufferable douche that he was. Gamzee was becoming more of an enigma every day, and it freaked him the fuck out. There was guilt, of course, over somehow failing him as a moirail-- a healthy pale romance commanded complete honesty, and that stupid clown was holding back something and oh god what if Gamzee doesn't feel comfortable what if Gamzee didn't trust him what did he do what could he do-- but the more obvious consequense, visible to everyone else on the meteor, was that Karkat was on the brink of a melt down was very much in desperate need of a feelings jam. At the very least, a well places pap and a soothing shoosh would do the troll wonders. Normally he'd talk to Kanaya, but she was a bit... preoccupied with Rose. She only had one mouth, after all. Jamming it out with Terezi was out of the question, what with her "top secret" blackrom solicitations, which, if he was honest, in all likelyhood were very enthusiasticly returned by his 'palebro'. He spent most of his time isolated in quiet frustration because there was no way on Alternia he was going to seek solace in one Dave Strider.
...who, as some cruel fate would have it, was rapping (with his knuckles and with some sick lines) at Karkat's door. How he knew where Karkat's respite block was a mystery to him. He sure as hell didn't draw him a fucking map. As soon as the mechanized door had slid open far enough for Karkat to see those stupid fucking shades he pressed the 'door close' button. A red blur and a small gust of wind signaled that he had been too slow. Stider had taken advantage of the opening and flash-stepped in. Or maybe he just cheated with his time powers. It hardly mattered at this point, and Karkat did nothing to hide the frustration on his face when he turned to him.
"The fuck do you want, fuckass?"
"You're getting less creative every day, Karkles. Are you even trying anymore?"
"Shut up, don't call me that, you stupid prick, et cetera. Answer my question, douche."
One of the very first things Karkat had learned about Dave was that he was not as cool as he said he was. Not that anyone really thought he was (well, Terezi maybe, but she's literally blind and therefore has an unfair tolerance for sunglasses). So it went without saying that every time Dave slipped up and let some emothion through his mask of cool was a tiny victory for Karkat. Which is probably why he didn't expect the slightly less-than-confident stance and the uncomfortable mouth to cause stirrings of something else, not pity, thank god, but maybe some comisseration.
"Come hang with me and the mayor." Strider had regained his composure. He had't really lost it completely, and if the slight grimace on his hace wasn't still lingering at the corners of his mouth and the slight rush in his words as they threatened to trip over each other, he would have appeared as cool as ever. But the fact remained that they had slipped through and the momentary lapse of control couldn't have been clearer to Karkat if it had been marked with glowing signs.
"Strider. What."
"Look, bro, it's been two weeks since I talked to someone who could fucking reply. I'm going crazy. TLC reality show crazy. Bring in the cameras, let some sextuplets loose, bury me in a mound of trash. Get me 19 kids and for god's sake don't stop counting them. I will say anything to any dress, give me some-"
"Okay, wow, shut up. Most of that didn't even make sense to me, and to be honest, I have no interest in understanding human references." This was slightly less than true, because come on, alien culture was interesting as hell. But Karkat wasn't about to say anything. "Just go hang out with Rose. Or Terezi." A beat of silence. Dave looked at Karkat and set his jaw. He inhaled as if he were about to speak, but Karkat beat him to it. "I know. Fuck." He looked at the ground as if it held an alternative, trying to ignore his rising embarassment. Was he really going to flip shit because Dave knew they were both bored and wanted to offer a solution? Hell no. That thought put an immediate end to any deliberation and he raised his head to chance a glance at Dave, who was also, yes, looking pointedly at the ground. Straining to keep his voice gentle (that was another thing about humans, there voices, shit, they were always so smooth without even trying, it sounded like a wingbeast's coo in comparison with his own), he put a hand to the back of his neck and awkwardly feigned nonchalance as he rubbed the wiry hair there. "So... what did you want to do?"
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