Chapter Text
Roxy was the one to discover Earth C humans had some startling new features.
Technically, the first person to run across said differences was Calliope. Apparently she’d been reading fanfiction and asked Roxy about the particulars of human, um, intimacy. Roxy, increasingly baffled, had asked to look at those fanfics herself.
“It was all omegaverse stuff, basically,” she said when they were gathered together to eat dinner, “but none of it is tagged or anything? So I had a weird hunch and I looked up sex ed. Long story short, our new Earth has alphas, betas, and omegas.”
Dave shuddered. “Is it too late to fling the whole thing into a black hole?”
Rose whapped him on the back of the head. “For someone as enamored with penises as you, I’m surprised you don’t welcome the change.”
“What the fuck does that even mean,” Karkat asked, pained, but not as pained as John looked when Roxy explained to everyone how mating worked.
“It’s not exactly like the kind I read back home,” said Roxy, “but it’s similar enough. Long story short, some people get in heat, they really want to have sex with a particular other kind of person, and everyone sniffs everyone a lot and makes weird noises.”
“Hm,” Karkat said.
It was Karkat who came up with the lists and the protocol, despite the fact that troll biology was apparently unchanged in Earth C.
“I have read enough of these stories,” Karkat said darkly, when they were gathered (some of them with more arm-twisting than the others) to add their entries to the list. “I’m told that nobody will die if they can’t have sex, but I’m not sentencing everyone to months of awkwardness because two mutually attracted people each think they coerced the other.”
“Babe,” Dave said, pleading.
“Don’t babe me, shitbreath,” Karkat told him. “Put a name on the list and go home.”
Everyone was obligated to list at least one person they were willing to have sex with in an emergency. More were encouraged, “But I don’t actually expect you nookwipes to have the emotional competence required to actually consider this.”
Dirk stared at his slip for a long, long time. He knew what name he wanted to put down. Everyone in fucking New Can Town knew what name Dirk wanted to put down.
His phone buzzed.
tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]
TG: just puit down his name
TG: nobodyu will make him do anything anyway
TG: bsides
TG: r u telling me
TG: youd rather die than fuck jake?
TT: If he thinks he has to, to save my life?
TT: Yes. Obviously.
TG: stop being so gosh darn dramatic, as the boui himself woud say
TG: its probably not going to come up in any case
TG: (thats what she said)
TT: I'm aware, I was here when she said it.
“Can’t I just say I’d rather die?” Dirk asked Karkat.
“No,” said Karkat, Dave, and Roxy, all in unison. Karkat added, “If you make a decapitation joke I swear to fuck I will end you. Repeatedly.”
Dave tipped off his sunglasses slightly and caught Karkat’s eye.
“Anyway, it wouldn’t be heroic or just for you to die of blue balls,” Roxy said. “Just put down a name already, it’ll be fine.”
Dirk put down a name. It wouldn’t have taken Hal’s computing powers to figure out which one it was. He did his best to forget about this.
It did not occur to Dirk to ask if god-tiers could get sick, but it looks like the answer is affirmative.
There’s no real symptoms as such. He just feels uniformly shitty all over, wants to sleep but can’t. He’s piled every blanket he owns on his bed and it still feels too hard and too cold. He’s not hungry but he feels the way he does when he’s missed too many meals, only he can’t bring himself to force down so much as an energy bar.
He’s thirsty, and the tap is too fucking far away.
This is stupid. He’s taken care of himself through illness before, he should be able to do it now.
Something is making noises, like a particularly morose engine. It’s bugging the shit out of Dirk.
Also, his phone is buzzing. He thought that might be the previous sound, but no, it started just now. Dirk stares at his phone balefully.
He closes his eyes and tries to fall back asleep. If someone needs him, they know where to find him.
Someone is knocking on the door.
Dirk somehow manages to find the energy to yell, “What?”
“Um.” The voice outside belongs to his neighbor, a very nice Mx. Statham. They brought Dirk cookies when they first moved in, which Dirk felt awkward about. They were good cookies, too. “Is, is everything okay, Mr. Strider?”
“Just sick,” he calls out.
“Only,” they say, “I beg your pardon, but your subvocals have been keeping the entire floor up. You sound very distressed, is there anything we can do?”
“Sorry,” Dirk says, half distracted, as he pulls up his phone to find out what the fuck subvocals are.
“If there’s anyone I can call for you,” Mx. Statham continues, “or really a lot of us would be happy to help–”
Dirk scans the search results.
Subvocals are mating cues used by several mammalian species, most notably humans. An omega in heat is likely to make calls for a suitable mate, and an alpha responds with soothing sounds.
He blinks. “I’m fine,” he calls out, a moment later. “I’ll try to keep it down.”
A moment passes. “If you’re sure,” Mx. Statham says, clearly unhappy. “If there’s anything at all we can do to help, you have my number. Call any time.”
There aren’t a lot of results for how to stop subvocalizing apart from “find an alpha”. There are a few sponsored ads for discrete agencies suggesting heat relief. Hell no.
It’s fine. He won’t die. He’ll just be miserable for a while, and then he’ll get better and apologize to his neighbors.
Trust him to wake everyone up because he’s too much of a whiny bottom.
He finally resolves to find somewhere more soundproof to spend the night, and unlocks his door. It barely budges, and when he at last manages to get it open, it turns out there is a pile of stuff on the other side.
Blankets. Pillows. Fleece and flannel, seriously comfy shit.
Dirk closes the door before anyone can see his lower lip is wobbling.
Then he opens it again, grabs the stuff, and shuts it behind him.
The extra bedding helps. At least he’s more comfortable, more warm. But at the same time, the relief of soft fabrics means more of his mind is dwelling on how wrong it is that nobody is here with him.
Fuck. He should be used to being on his own. Shit knows he’s had experience. But he’s still thirsty, and his skin aches, only soothed for a moment by the gentle friction of the blankets before it starts needing… something.
Dirk isn’t fooling anyone. He wants someone to bring him water. He wants to be fucked, and kissed, and held. But hey, what else is new? At least this time it’s biology’s fault and not his.
It occurs to Dirk that if heats are a mating strategy, it might have helped if he felt less like a pile of flaming trash. For someone who is supposed to be the pinnacle of attraction, he is very keenly aware that he hasn’t showered in three days. He managed to make it to the bathroom sink to drink some water and splash them on his face and hands, but that’s about it.
While he does feel a low-level arousal, he can barely even notice it through how fucking miserable he feels. Like he’s crushed that nobody is banging on his door to rail him.
The pile of bedding also had a seal stuffed toy in it, probably thrown in by accident. Dirk might have been cuddling it for the last few hours. It’s better than nothing.
It’s late at night when Dirk breaks down and opens his phone, looking up Karkat’s handle.
There is a wall of angry gray text that Dirk cannot focus his eyes on.
TT: Activate heat protocol, please. Omega version.
There. He’s done what he could. Now nobody would come, and he’ll at least be able to take comfort that they didn’t make Jake do this.
Dirk is dreaming. This is easy to figure out, because there is a warm body at his back, a warm arm over his waist, holding him close.
There's a sound, too. Not words, but like a melody Dirk knows the lyrics to, and so his mind is filling in the blanks.
*I'm here. You're good. I love you.*
Dirk sighs, and as the air leaves his lungs, every bit of tension drains away from his body. He sinks completely against the warmth behind him. He closes his eyes.
*Perfect. So good.*
There's another arm pillowing Dirk's head, and it's easy to rub his cheek against it, to turn his head and press his lips to skin.
The person behind him feels like Jake. Smells like him, but different, more. He smells like slow-burning arousal and… concern?
Dirk opens his eyes. "Jake?"
A kiss is pressed to Dirk's neck, and he shivers.
"I'm here," Jake says, hushed. "You'll be fine in two shakes, never fret."
Two options. Either this is the most lucid dream Dirk has ever managed, or Jake is really here, in the flesh, cuddling him.
It's not difficult to see what's the more likely of the options. Dirk pushes back, pleased to feel an erection pressed against his ass.
Jake groans. *Feel so good, so lovely*, the noises hum. "Dirk, could you please just tell me you're awake before the festivities begin? It hardly seems sporting to molest you in your sleep, protocols or no."
Probabilities shift. Dirk opens his eyes and turns around.
Jake looks rumpled, like someone called him at some ungodly hour to rescue Dirk from his own demanding testicles.
Jake frowns. "What's wrong?"
Dirk should explain to Jake that he doesn't have to do this, that Dirk will be fine, like he always is.
Just thinking about Jake leaving feels like being doused in glacial melt. Dirk kisses him instead.
It's just like it was when they were in the game, like no time has passed at all. Dirk is thrown immediately back to sweaty palms and fumbling touches. All Dirk can do is wrap his arms around Jake and kiss him. He can't comprehend doing anything else.
Jake, though, is different. He's touching Dirk like he has heat vision goggles and can see exactly where Dirk is running the hottest for him.
And he is running hot, more so as Jake's presence and scent and sounds fill up the empty void in him. The unhappiness that plagued him before melts into nothing. Now he wants, but it's not a despondent desperation, but anticipation.
Jake pulls back for a moment. "Hang on a bit." He sounds out of breath, which makes Dirk feels smug as fuck. "Let me just," and Jake pulls off Dirk's boxers, shoves his own pants down. He's hard, and his cock was definitely not this big the last time Dirk saw it.
Dirk nods, nonsensically. He doesn’t have lube. It doesn’t matter. Spit will do, if they have no other options. He raises one leg, exposing himself, where he needs Jake to fill him up.
*Surprise. Curiosity.*
Dirk frowns, but before he can ask, Jake touches him right where Dirk needs him most. Jake’s fingers push inside, an easy glide and stretch.
Apparently, Dirk has a new orifice he didn’t know about. He’d freak out about it, but he’s too busy moaning about the perfect pressure of Jake’s fingers inside him.
“Criminy,” Jake chokes out. *Want you, want you, want you.*
“So come over here already,” Dirk says. He feels feverish, delirious. He doesn’t want to know what his own subvocals are doing, but Jake is shuddering like Dirk busted out the quality dirty talk.
Jake swallows audibly. “Right.” His other hand tightens over Dirk’s hip. “Um. Ready?”
“Apparently?” Dirk’s new anatomy seems to be raring to go, the two fingers in him already not enough.
“Let’s give it the ol’ college try, then,” Jake says. Dirk didn’t realize he’d missed Jake’s stupid vocabulary when getting it on, but it warms him inside to hear it. Jake raises Dirk’s leg higher, over his shoulder. “My, but you’re flexible.” *So hot. A good mate. I will provide for you.*
Mercifully, Dirk is spared the need to answer by Jake’s cock sliding into him. It’s thick, heavy, a satisfying stretch.
Jake whimpers. *So tight.*
Dirk’s cock twitches. It keeps twitching as Jake pushes all the way inside and fills him perfectly, leaking precome like there’s no tomorrow due to a tragic timeline accident.
Jake tugs on his hair. “Be with me, sweetheart.” He presses a shaky kiss to Dirk’s forehead.
Shameless, Dirk turns up his face. Maybe his subvocals are doing their goddamned job for once, because Jake kisses his mouth without hesitation, slow and deep.
More. Dirk needs more, and he doesn’t know where the hell he’ll put it, but he does. More touches, more kisses, more of Jake’s cock inside him.
Jake buries himself deep, all the way inside, and stops, panting.
Dirk’s about to poke him to keep going when he starts feeling Jake’s cock growing. The stretch intensifies, right up to the edge of pain, and fuck, Dirk wants it to hurt.
It does before long, a sweet ache like a forgotten muscle seeing use. Dirk can’t stop making these soft, broken sounds, but Jake doesn’t seem worried now. His eyes have gone glassy, his hold on Dirk bruising.
Dirk’s arms are too heavy to lift for long enough to rub his cock, and he doesn’t even know if he wants to. He feels like he could come just like this, Jake’s cock thick and demanding inside him, and fuck if he doesn’t want to try. He can just barely move his hips enough to grind against Jake, pressure inside him making him see sparks.
*You beautiful thing. Love you, love you, love you, love you.*
Jake’s eyes roll back in his head, and his cock twitches and throbs. He’s coming, and Dirk would know this even without the context clues. He knows it by how satisfied he feels, a bone-deep lassitude that doesn’t care that he’s still hard.
Jake does, though. He takes over the grinding motion, giving Dirk the friction he needs until they’re both gone together.