Chapter Text
4: 30 PM ectoBiologist (EB) began pestering carcinoGeneticist (CG)
EB: hey bro, are you still coming to movie night?
CG: I’D LOVE TO. UNFORTUNATELY MY STOMACH CURRENTLY FEELS LIKE A WAR ZONE. ACID AND NOXIOUS GAS MOIL WITHIN ITS WALLS, BROTHER TURNS UPON BROTHER, AND THE PUTREFIED FLESH OF THE DEAD IS LEFT TO ROT IN THE MUD.
CG: I ALREADY THREW UP ONCE. I AM IN NO CONDITION TO BE EXPOSED TO OTHER PEOPLE, MUCH LESS YOUR NAUSEATING MOVIE COLLECTION.
EB: aw man, i’m sorry! being sick sucks.
EB: and dave isn’t coming either!
EB: vriska said she might show up, but if so many people are canceling already maybe i should tell her not to bother.
CG: HEY, DON’T CANCEL MOVIE NIGHT ON MY ACCOUNT. WASN’T ROXY GOING TO COME TOO?
EB: well yeah, but it was supposed to be a way for everyone to hang out! kind of pointless if it’s just me and her.
CG: SOMEHOW I DOUBT SHE WOULD MIND.
EB: hey, what’s wrong anyways? was it something you ate? can i get anything for you?
CG: IT WASN’T SOMETHING I ATE. JUST STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME FOR A FEW DAYS, OKAY?
EB: why? are you really that contagious? look i just wanna help.
CG: I’M NOT CONTAGIOUS, I’M JUST NOT FIT COMPANY FOR ANYBODY AT THE MOMENT. AS ANNOYING AS I FIND YOU EGBERT, I DON’T ACTUALLY WANT TO BITE YOUR HEAD OFF IN A FIT OF RAGE.
EB: *beep* incorrect!
EB: if its just a matter of you being grumpy, i think i can handle it. come on, i wanna do something for my sick friend. do you like tea? i’ll bring you tea. how’s mint? i hear it’s good for stomach stuff.
CG: ...FINE.
CG: BRING ME TEA, AND CHOCOLATE.
EB: chocolate? that might not be such a good idea when you’re sick buddy.
CG: JUST FUCKING DO IT.
carcinoGeneticist (CG) has ceased trolling ectoBiologist (EB)
* * *
“Hey. Come on in, I guess.” Karkat says, opening the door. He looks like a mess. His hair is even messier than usual, his eyes are bleary and tired-looking, and his fuzzy crab-themed pajamas rumpled like he’d been wearing them all day. You want to give him a hug.
Instead you come in, handing him a thermos and a bag. “Thanks. Here’s your get-better care package.” You know he has a couch, but you see that he has instead set up a pile of pillows, blankets, and clothing on the floor in front of the TV screen, which is showing the paused image of some pretty Indian-looking girls dancing. “Aw man, you jerk! You skipped out on movie night, only to watch movies without me?”
“Movies of my choosing that don’t suck, and away from intolerable douchehats like you.” He flops down unceremoniously on his pile and wraps one of the fluffier blankets around himself. He unscrews the thermos lid, and takes a small sip. He immediately puts it down on the floor. “Holy mother of god and all of her wacky nephews, why is that so god-damned hot? It’s surprising I still have a tongue!”
You try to stifle the laugh that comes bubbling up your throat, but to no avail. “Oh shut up! You big drama queen! So what are you watching anyways?”
Karkat replies with some title in a language you don’t understand. “It’s a Bollywood movie,” he explains. He unpauses it, and the movie resumes, the girls dancing and singing in some foreign language. The keen detective skills you totally inherited from Jane tell you it’s probably Hindi. Meanwhile Karkat investigated the bag you’d given him. “Egbert, I told you to get me chocolate, not the entire grub fucking Willy Wonka experience.”
“Well I went to Safeway, and I didn’t know what to get you!”
“So your solution was to get me one of everything?”
“No. Just the dark chocolate,” you give him a bit of a sulky pout. You buy him chocolate, and this is the thanks you get?
He takes out a bar and examines it to confirm your claim. “Oh. Well that’s actually not as imbecilic as I expected. By which I mean, ‘wow John this is really thoughtful, thanks!’ No but really, who told you I couldn’t stand milk chocolate?”
“You did. Valentine’s day, remember?” You had given chocolate to all of your friends, even the ones you didn’t know that well, because that was just sort of a thing you did on Valentine’s day! And when Karkat had point-blank refused your gift, declaring that it was bad enough getting obligatory chocolate but that obligatory milk chocolate was enough to make him retch, well, you’d laughed it off of course! Because of course you were used to his ranting by now! It wasn’t like each time he called it obligatory chocolate felt like a kick to the gut! That would be silly!
“Oh yeah. Thanks.” There’s a pause, and you are about to remark that you should probably leave now when he says, “As long as you’re here, wanna watch some Bollywood with me?”
“Yeah! Okay!” You ignore the tight feeling that’s suddenly lodged itself in your throat and come settle down on the edge of the pile. The song has ended, and subtitled dialogue is now taking place between two men. “So what is this movie anyway?”
“It’s Bollywood,” Karkat says again, as though this explains everything. He’s unwrapped the chocolate orange, and consumes a segment in two bites. When you stay silent, he continues. “It’s basically every rom-com ever, but with musical segments involving impressive choreography. It’s a feel-good movie of industrial strength.”
You groan. “You’re lucky you’re sick. Otherwise I would totally make you at least watch something in English.”
“Well thanks John, I appreciate you getting me off so easily thanks to my physical state-" His grey cheeks take a slightly reddish tint as he realizes his mistake. "Fuck! You know what I meant!”
You chuckle. “Just be happy I’m not Rose. She would totally read way too much into that slip of the tongue there.”
You sit in silence for a moment as you try to follow the dialogue of the movie. You take a different blanket and lay it out over your lap, getting comfortable in your spot. You don’t really notice that your final position, resting your weight on one arm as your legs sprawl in the other direction, has you listing towards Karkat until a fight breaks out on screen and his gasp come from right next to your ear.
You turn to see him in profile, focused intently on the screen, hands clutching his blanket so tightly you’re surprised his claws don’t rip holes in it. His fangs chew at his lower lip and you have this inexplicable urge to lean in just a little bit closer and kiss his temple just before skin turns into wild hair. Not in a romantic way, of course! You couldn’t possibly want to kiss another guy romantically! Just that he looks so sweet and kissable! Bros can show their platonic affection through face kisses, right? Right.
Karkat would totally flip his lid though, so you ignore the impulse. Instead you say, “So wait, what’s going on exactly?”
Karkat’s gaze flicks to you, and he stares at you. Oh, is he mad at you for interrupting? He doesn’t look mad, he just sort of looks at you. His eyes are golden and as you look into them you start to feel very warm. It takes you a minute to realize that he’s spoken. “What?”
“Why are those guys fighting?” you clarify. “And why is that guy flying around breaking windows? That isn’t how flying kicks work, unless you’ve got the Breeze or something.”
“The reasons for their strife are quite numerous, and twice as convoluted. It’s a tale of romance, politics, and betrayal!” Karkar replies dramatically, sounding as though he’s quoting the Netflix movie summary. “As for why he’s flying around breaking windows, it’s the same reason that he’s about to dance around breaking into song.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
He hits you over the head with a small pillow. “It’s Bollywood, just shut up and go with it.”
You laugh. “Okay, okay, I did just come in on the middle of this one, maybe I shouldn’t try too hard to understand.”
So the movie goes on. Karkat finishes his chocolate orange and opens up a bar of chocolate with blueberries in it. He sips at his tea, now that it seems to have cooled down. You find yourself tense, despite your relaxed pose, and you feel hyper aware of everything he does. You try to watch the movie, but any time he moves or reacts to the action on screen you glance at him instinctually. You watch him bite at his claw-like-nails as the final scene comes to a climax, and when the boy gets the girl in the end you realize he’s crying a little.
Awww, that's adorable, but hey, that’s Karkat for you. You want to wipe his tears away with your hand, but he does it first, sniffing.
The movie ends and he doesn’t even ask you before picking out another. You look over at the already half-finished chocolate bar in his hand. “Hey Karkat, have you had anything to eat besides chocolate since you threw up?”
“No.” He’s scowling.
“That can’t be good for you.”
“Shut the fuck up John, you’re not my moirail!” He snarls, but his gaze hasn’t broken from the beginning credits of the movie.
“Alright, I’m going to make you soup.” You get up.
“What part of ‘I threw up’ do you not understand? I don’t want food right now you idiotic giggletwerp!”
“If you can eat chocolate, you can eat some chicken broth. Don’t worry, I’ll handle everything. You just watch your movie.” You walk off to his kitchen, ignoring his last words of grumbling protest.
Ten minutes later, you see that he’s paused the movie for you. “Aw, you didn’t have to wait up for me.”
“I wanted you to start from the beginning so that I might be spared at least a few of your inane questions.” He scowls at you as you approach.
You give him the bowl of broth. “Well since it kept both of us from the movie for so long, at least try eating some of this okay?”
He takes the bowl. “I still don’t want it. Thanks for the effort though I guess.” He unpauses the movie, and you sit down next to him with one leg folded under you and the other stretched out.
“That’s okay Karkat, it’s just what I’d do for any of my friends!” You put an arm of camaraderie around his shoulders. You pretend you don’t feel his shoulders tense at your touch. You know Karkat isn’t really big on physical affection, but sometimes you just can’t resist giving him a hug.
He takes a few spoonfuls of broth up to his mouth. “This actually feels pretty okay. I’m not actually ill you know, I think the nausea is mostly psychosomatic. I do feel like shit though, so… thanks.”
“No problem buddy!” You’re just about to give him his personal space back, when he unexpectedly relaxes against your arm, leaning into you slightly.
“This is nice,” he murmurs. “You’re… pathologically nice. Like seriously, what the fuck man?” His voice has gone from its usual hoarse shout to a sleepy rumble that reverberates in your chest.
As the movie goes on, he shifts a little closer, so that his weight is resting more on the left side of your chest than your arm and shoulder. You don’t know what’s made him so cuddly, but you’re not really complaining. Cuddle bros are the best! On the golden ship, there used to be big cuddle puddles where everyone would just get together and snuggle. Karkat probably would have called it a revolting orgy of pale affection, or something silly like that, but then again, here he is cuddling so you could be wrong about that.
You rest your chin on the top of his head between his horns casually, because it’s right there to rest on. He makes a slight hmph, but doesn’t actually pull away or say anything, so you figure he can’t mind too much. His hair smells nice, musty and warm. “Man, Karkat snuggles are kind of the best.” Whoops, did you just say that out loud?
He shifts slightly, and you’re sure you’ve offended him or something, but instead of throwing insults at you and retreating to the far side of the pile he just moves out from under your chin so he can lift his head up and look at you. “John, whatever you think this means, don’t. Don't even think, because this means absolutely nothing.” His voice is low an breathy, and then he’s pushing himself up so that his face fills your vision. His eyes flutter closed, just before his lips press up against yours.
Karkat is kissing you.
Holy shit, Karkat is kissing you!
What do you do? Do you kiss back? You can’t think. His lips are soft and he’s letting out this long sigh of a breath, like he’s been holding it, like he’s been waiting for this and oh, you could just melt into him for that! You press back against his lips experimentally, and his hand clasps itself on your shoulder with an iron grip like he never plans to let you go. You feel his tongue, soft and wet, dart out to moisten your lips, just as the rest of him suddenly pulls away.
He pulls away and retreats to the other side of the pile, until no part of you is touching any part of him, and you want to pull a blanket over yourself the way he has because where he was leaning on you is now cold and aching with absence. He glares at the movie screen, like it’s Bollywood’s fault for his lapse in judgment.
“Karkat?” You hate how uncertain your voice is. You sound… vulnerable. “What was that?” He pretends not to hear you, so you keep pressing him. “I mean, um, that didn’t really feel like a hate kiss? Are you...? What…? Sorry, I’m just really confused here. What do you-”
He stands up, and when he looks at you his eyes are so furious that they look more orange than gold. “Get out,” he demands, voice ragged. You boggle at him vacantly. “Get out John, get the fuck out of my house! Do what I told you to from the beginning and just leave me the fuck alone!” Um, wow, he’s being… actually pretty intimidating. You’re a little bit scared, and oh gosh, is he crying again? "You utter assbrain, why did you come here? You're just making everything worse!"
Ouch.
You leave.