-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --
EB: you won’t believe what happened last night!
EB: an alien landed in my backyard!!
EB: he looks kind of like howie mandel in little monsters
EB: also i think he might be kind of gay??
EB: dave are you there
EB: did you even read what i wrote?
TG: is this shit what passes for a prank is the egbert household these days
TG: this is lame even for you
EB: dave this is serious!
EB: i don’t know what to do!
EB: oh he just walked in
EB: i have to go
-- ectoBiologist [EB] is now an idle chum!--
TG: lets say i hypothetically believe there are is a gay alien/mandel monster look a like causing a ruckus at the egbert manor
TG: my only advice is
TG: dont fucking drink any apple juice
TG: oh wait
TG: some obligatory joke about anal probing
TG: though judging from roses psychobabble you might be into that kind of thing
-- ectoBiologist [EB] is no longer idle! --
EB: fuck you
-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --
> John: Be past John.
You are John Egbert, a plucky young fellow of 18 years. This weekend your father has decided to take a break from his ritualistic baking of batterwitch confections to attend some kind of serious business businessman convention, but you are sure your father would have never have left you alone if he knew what kind of crazy shenanigans you’d get into.
Emboldened by the sweet nectar of freedom, you’ve watched three Nic Cage movies, devoured an entire large pizza, made hasty business of an unattended box of cookies, and downed five cans of root beer despite your father’s many warnings of tummy aches. So yeah, you’re pretty much a modern day James Dean.
It’s now around one in the morning and all attempts to rouse from your junk food stupor and make the treacherous journey from the couch to your bed have been futile. You’re about to drift asleep--coated in cookie crumbs, pizza grease, and a deep sense of fulfillment--when you are startled by a terrible boom, accompanied by what feels like a minor earthquake.
You check all the windows, but find nothing suspect in suburban scenery besides neighbors emerging from their houses, similarly investigating the source of the early morning commotion. You decide to head to the kitchen in hopes of finding more promising results.
You wanted results and you found them. Standing at the sliding glass doors leading to your backyard, you see the smoking remains of some weirdly organic looking pod thing, embedded into what was previously your father's vegetable garden.Jade is going to be psyched to hear about this.It's so dark it's hard to tell exactly what it is, but space junk crashing into your yard is always pretty cool!
Running back to the living room and locate your sneakers, cramming your bare feet into them and dashing back into the kitchen, almost tripping on your untied laces. You open the sliding door, and hesitantly approach the wrecked machine, careful not to get too close. The night is still and cool, you find yourself wrapping your arms around yourself to combat the chill.
You do a quick check to see if anyone else has shared your discovery, but you see no curious faces peeking over the wooden fence enclosing your backyard. Only open fields lay behind your house, and from the street the small trails of smoke trailing from the wreck are hidden by the bulk of the house itself. You’re not really sure if it’s a satellite, weather balloon, meteor, spaceship, or what, but you figure there’s a good chance no one will find the mysterious wreck unless you alert them to its presence, and you definitely don’t want to deal with this alone. You turn in search of a responsible, adult type person to deal with the situation, but are halted by a soft moan.
You notice someone crawling out of the wreckage and hear a muffled cry for help. Even though it's obviously ridiculous and absolutely couldn't be true, you have a pretty strong suspicion that what lies before you is probably a space ship and the thing inside of it is most likely an alien. Still, you were raised to help when someone is in need, whether it be a human or a tentacle monster from outer space.
Oh god, please don't let it be a tentacle monster.
Approaching the figure, which thankfully appears to be a mostly human shaped young man, you him find him trapped under debris; with some effort you liberate the poor guy and manage to drag him out of the wrecked ship.
You kneel over the boy, shivering a little at the wetness of the dewy grass. The porch light is bright enough that you can make out enough to see that he seems to be around the same age as yourself and, with the exception of ash grey skin and a set of small horns, is in fact very much human shaped. He’s even wearing human-y clothes: a black sweater with some kind of loopy grey insignia, jeans, and sneakers. Still, there was no mistaking the fact that this dude is not human.
You can help but to crack a smile. “Shit, this is actually happening isn't it?”
Your smile quickly falters when you notice blood oozing from the side of his forehead. You grab a clean rag from the kitchen and dab at the wound, noting that besides some minor scrapes and bruises, the alien doesn’t seem to be injured.
The alien’s eyes flutter open--eyes that are shockingly yellow--and he gives you a momentary glare, seemingly annoyed by your prodding at his wound. He then licks his lips, revealing a row of pointed teeth, and whispers, “Please...Hide me.”
Despite the voice in your head telling you (quite reasonably) that what you’re doing is crazy, the alien’s earnest and pleading eyes awaken your hero’s spirit. You have no choice but to jump into action. You drape the alien’s arm around your neck and assist him in standing, helping him limp inside and setting him gingerly on the couch.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” you say, trying to sound reassuring. The alien simply lays back and gives you a tired nod of understanding.
First you turn on the hose and douse the small clouds of smoke still streaming from the machine, figuring the ship was already so busted up a little water isn’t going to make a big difference. Then you grab a large tarp that’s been sitting around the garage forever, draping it over the ship and weighing down the edges with heavy rocks so it won’t blow away.
Back inside you find the alien is fast asleep, splayed across your couch. You lay a blanket over him, lock all the doors, and head upstairs, briefly considering the possibility of being murdered in your sleep before passing out in your bed.
“You. Human. Wake up.”
> John: Wake up.
Your roll onto your back to find an alien staring down at you. “My name is John.”
“I know your name, human.”
The alien stares at you a moment, his yellow eyes bright in the dim room, and wow once you get past all the grey and the fangs he's kind of a looker.
"You told me last night, idiot. Obviously."
"Did I? I don't really remember, but last night was pretty crazy. Hm..."
You manage to drag yourself into a sitting position and groggily wipe the sleep from your eyes. The room is still very dim, but you can see light bleeding through the blinds indicating that it’s morning. Judging by his clean face, now bandaged head wound, and the fact he’s wearing your clothes (a t-shirt, sweatpants, and some ugly, oversized sweater you got for christmas and never wore), you guess your new friend must have made himself quite at home while you were sleeping. “Then what’s your name?”
The alien crosses his arms in response, glaring. “Why should I tell you?”
“Well, I did kind of save your life...” A minute long pause elapses before you realize this apparently this isn’t a persuasive enough argument. Tearing away the blankets, you jump to your feet and place your hands on his shoulders. “Come on now, don’t be shy!”
He recoils from your touch, his face an indignant sneer. “‘Shy’?” What fucking reason would I have to feel shy?”
“I dunno. You tell me, shyguy mcblushybottom."
“I'm not fucking--" He stops, eying your growing grin with exasperation. "...Whatever, fine. It’s Karkat. Karkat Vantas.”
“And you are...an alien.”
“From your prespective, yes.”
“Okay then,” you say, grabbing Karkat’s hand and giving it a few thorough shakes before he manages to tear away from your grip. “Nice to meet you, Karkat!”
He glares at you, rubbing his hand as if your touch had hurt him. You're pretty sure that's not the case though, his skin had felt kind of leathery, it gave you the impression that his race must be pretty hardy. That and the fact he had crawled out of a crashed spaceship with only a few minor injuries.
“Yeah, whatever. I contacted my spooky alien cohorts, they’ll pick me up early tomorrow morning. Til then I’ll spend my time prostrate before your enormous buck teeth, oh great human savior.”
“So...you’re leaving Sunday morning and my dad is coming home Monday morning, that’s literally perfect. But it means I only have, like, a day to hang out with my cool new alien bff.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? For all you know I could be planning to hatch wrigglers in your abdomen.”
“Well, if you wanted to do some silly evil alien thing like that, I think you would have done it already.“
“Just because I haven’t yet, doesn’t mean I don’t have every intention of using you as an incubator for my hideous alien spawn. For fuck's sake, is it an inherent human trait to completely lack all sense of self preservation? Or are you just intrinsically stupid?”
You choose not to respond, instead submitting to a rather severe fit of giggles.
Although he makes a show of being annoyed, Karkat’s attitude doesn’t bother you at all. After all he is in a pretty stressful situation, and until recently you could be a little difficult to talk to yourself! You find his grumpiness kind of endearing; all bark and no bite. He’s really a pretty funny guy!
“John, if you don’t silence that loathsome cackling, I swear I will.”
“Haha, alright, Karkat. Sorry.” Suddenly it occurs to you to be curious about your extraterrestrial house guest, and a hundred questions surge into your brain, fighting for dominance of your mouth. “So why did you come to Earth anyway? Oh, did you come to make crop circles? Is that your way of trolling humans? Or did other aliens do those? Are there other aliens? Do their spaceships look like yours? Because yours looked kind of weird. It’s not like any pictures of UFOs I’ve seen before. Hey do you know what candy corns are? Your horns look exactly like--”
Unfortunately none of your questions are answered because Karkat interrupts you in pretty much the rudest way imaginable, goes into a minor case of hysterics, and then abruptly leaves the room.
Just to clarify because of the trolls' husktops and this image I imagine Alternian technology to the a hybrid of electronic and living matter. That's why I described Karkat's ship was being organic looking. I don't know, spaceship design is really out of my realm of expertise and I doubt anyone really cares much, but yeah.
-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling ectoBiologist [EB] --
CG: ATTENTION YOU REPUGNANT PILE OF FESTERING HUMAN GARBAGE.
CG: AS YOUR SUPERIOR IN EVERY CONCEIVABLE WAY, I DEMAND YOU MAKE ACCESS TO THAT TINY ATROPHIED ORGAN YOU HUMANS ARE BRAZEN ENOUGH TO CALL A BRAIN AND CAREFULLY CONSIDER EVERY SYLLABLE OF WISDOM I AM GENEROUS ENOUGH TO BESTOW.
CG: I WILL GIVE YOU A MOMENT TO READY YOUR FRAIL PINK BODY FOR THE VAST ENLIGHTENMENT I AM GOING LAVISH UPON YOU LIKE IT’S FUCKING12TH PERIGEE'S EVE.
CG: THOUGH CONSIDERING THE SHEER INEFFECTIVENESS OF YOUR MENTAL FACULTIES IT’S LIKELY THE TREMENDOUS WEIGHT OF SUCH KNOWLEDGE WILL LEAVE YOU A QUIVERING MASS OF DROOLING ANEURYSMS.
EB: okay i’m ready
EB: i am fully prepared!
CG: YOUR WORDS SEEM CONTRARY TO YOUR FLIPPANT TONE. IF YOUR WERE TRULY PREPARED YOU WOULD NOT BE TYPING THOSE LITTLE WORDS SYMBOLIC OF LAUGHTER.
EB: well i know you’re just trolling me
EB: but you are pretty funny as far as trolls go
EB: so keep up the good work!
CG: YOU THINK THIS IS SOME KIND OF PRANK?
CG: THE ONLY JOKE HERE IS YOUR RICHLY PATHETIC LIFE.
EB: haha you don’t even know me
CG: OH I DO, JOHN.
CG: I’M FAMILIAR WITH EVERY GODDAMN DETAIL OF YOUR MUNDANE LITTLE EXISTENCE.
EB: is this like that vampire movie
EB: have you been watching me sleep?
-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] is now an idle chum! --
EB: are you still there?
CG: FUCK YOU.
CG: WHY WOULD YOU EVEN ASK THAT?
CG: WHAT CONCEIVABLE REASON WOULD I HAVE TO SPY ON YOUR SLUMBERING FORM?
CG: DO YOU THINK I’M SOMEHOW FOLLOWING YOUR EVERY MOVE, CAREFULLY OBSERVING AND CHRONICLING EVERYTHING YOU DO?
CG: BECAUSE THAT IS RIDICULOUS.
EB: it was just a joke!
CG: SHUT UP.
CG: OBVIOUSLY I KNEW YOU WEREN’T SERIOUS AND WAS RESPONDING WITH HUMOR ALSO.
CG: BUT THIS IS ALL IRRELEVANT.
CG: THE PURPOSE OF THIS CONVERSATION IS TO BRING INSIGHT TO YOUR SAD LIFE.
EB: but you don’t even know me.
EB: i mean you know my name
EB: but that’s not very hard thing to find out.
EB: and anyways my life is great!
EB: i have fun all the time!
CG: I WOULDN’T BE CONTACTING YOU IF THAT WERE TRUE.
CG: YOU SPEND EVERY SECOND OF YOUR FREE TIME ON THAT GODDAMN COMPUTER.
CG: WHY DON’T YOU LEAVE YOUR GAUDY CLOWN FILLED DWELLING AND GO OUTSIDE FOR ONCE?
CG: DON’T HUMANS PARTICIPATE IN THE EMOTION CALLED FRIENDSHIP?
CG: WHY DO YOU SPEND ALL YOUR TIME ALONE?
CG: JUST FUCKING DO SOMETHING ALREADY.
EB: okay this has been fun
EB: but i have to go
EB: i’m blocking you and logging off
EB: goodnight mr vampire!!
-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --
You are Karkat Vantas, a rambunctious young troll just over 8 sweeps old. You have lived most of your life in fear of your mutation being discovered--candy red colored blood. However, once reaching adulthood you were forced to reveal your defect. Luckily (or perhaps unluckily) your superiors let you live, most likely because of your connection with a certain someone higher up in the hemospectrum.
Gamzee Makara was a lazy idiot and a sopor-addict, but his indigo blood had ensured him a very high and very powerful position in troll society, and your moirallegiance with him had shielded you from a lot of abuse. Still even his influence couldn't make others treat you with anything but disdain.
Instead of taking your place in Alternia’s quest for multiuniversal domination and joining the lethal legion of Threshecutioners like you had always dreamed, you were sent to do menial busy work on the primitive planet called Earth. Your mission was to observe a single inhabitant for a third of a sweep while simultaneously gathering intelligence on the planet’s culture, history, military forces, etc.
Ironically, the inhabitants of Earth share your blood color. Given its lack of resources, it’s unlikely the Alternian empire has any interest in actually conquering the planet; you are strongly convinced your whole mission is a way for the highbloods to mock you. Even so, you have been carrying out all of your duties with excruciating exactness, since the consequences of disobeying them could be fatal.
That is until today. You have just finished making first contact with your assignment, despite it being explicitly forbidden in your mission charter, and feel somewhat unsatisfactory about the results.
Your subject, the human John Egbert, was chosen at random and you’ve been observing him using sophisticated Alternian technology that allows you visual and audio of the boy anywhere that he goes. You’ve even hacked into his computer, browsing through files--most notably his Pesterchum chat logs, a rather large photo collection of the human actor Nicolas Cage, and some computer programs so terrible you could have written them.
After three human months of examination, the boy-human had thus far proved to be wholly unremarkable, a perfect specimen of human normality. (Well, probably. It’s not like you have a good handle on or even care what human normality is.) Watching the human was certainly not enthralling, but over time you inevitably found yourself feeling a sense of familiarity towards John, to the point you would talk to him through the monitor.
As John crawls out of bed in the morning: “Yes, rise and begin another monotonous day. You have more of your lusus’ inexhaustible supply of baked goods to consume.”
As he fumbles blindly for his glasses: “They’re not there, John.This is the eighth time this month your lusus has hidden your glasses, your precious prankster’s gambit is suffering.”
As he puts in a dvd: ”Fucking Con Air, fucking again? Seriously?”
You became so familiar with him in fact, that it became concerning when you noticed the dramatic change in his personality when he began attending the human education establishment called “school” a week ago.
During your previous observation, John had proved to be bafflingly upbeat and unfailingly goofy within his communications with his lusus and online “chums”; however, at this institution called “school”, John’s behavior was shockingly despondent; he barely spoke, even when other young humans tried to communicate with him he would answer curtly, quickly returning to one of his shitty backwards picture books.
Even more disturbing was the ridiculous assclown grin that was apparently transfixed to the human’s face disappeared as soon as he set foot inside the education prison. The other humans seem to derive at least some enjoyment from the place, but there hasn’t been a single instance of John smiling while there (outside of the forced half-smile he used when anyone actually bothered to talk to him).
Therefore, you planned on anonymously confronting John about his behavior, figuring that even if your superiors somehow found out, this was a joke of a mission anyways and they would most likely be indifferent. However, as you observe John curled up in his bed crying, you realize there were consequences to contacting the human that you had not considered.
A slur emotions seizes your gut: pity, guilt, and even empathy. This leads you to the second realization that you are an insensitive asshole and might not make you the best candidate for amateur therapist. For the first time since you began watching John you feel like your are invading on something you really should not see.
You switch off the monitor, but are compelled to write John a few lines over Pesterchum before closing your husktop (obviously with use of Alternian technology you can’t simply be “blocked”). You then proceed to strip off your clothes, wanting nothing more than to slip into your recuperacoon and get a few good hours sleep.
As you sink into warm supor slime, you begin to wonder what had compelled you to speak to John in the first place. What did it matter to you if the human went a few hours a day without acting like his usual chirpy, chafing self? Usually anyone having fun or just being generally jovial irritated you. So why did the sight of John’s weird colorless tears cause your chest to ache?
> Karkat: Realize you are totally fucking flushed for John Egbert.
> Karkat: Be present Karkat.
You are still trying to figure what the hell went wrong. Could the malfunction have been sabotage? You certainly have enough people out there who would like to see you dead. It was sheer dumb luck that you managed to get it to the ground with as little damage as it sustained. Still, there’s no way you could hope to repair the ship.
Not sure if you could trust your commanding officers, you instead contact Gamzee who, after pestering you with a couple exclamations of “mother fucking miracles”, dispatched a reliable rescue team. Unfortunately, that still meant spending two entire days with John fucking Egbert. Why, of all places, did you have to land in John’s backyard ? You would of rather crashed directly into the headquarters of the fucking CIA.
You’ve spent weeks secretly watching and wet-lusting after this boy-human, and now he’s saved your life, effectively making you feel like a stink laden, shit-filled creephole. You’ve seen every moment of his life for months, and know every intimate detail of his entire existence. When he was your just an assignment that was one thing, but you are fairly certain once you developed feelings in the flushed quarter it qualified you as a genuine stalker.
You’re really fucking creepy, there’s no denial to be had about it.
It doesn’t help that John can’t seem to keep his hands off you. Are all humans this goddamn touchy? And he keeps assaulting you with that saccharine smile, you can’t believe how overpowering it is in person.
You are seized by throes of self loathing as a torrent of unwanted memories washes over you--John crying while watching shitty movies he’s seen a dozen times before; John laughing over some incomprehensible comic about a poorly rendered human falling down stairs; John eating; John sleeping; John bathing; John...
You desperately try to distract yourself from the insidious path your thoughts are embarking upon. You fail valiantly.
Although you had first watched John’s late night gratifications with nothing but clinical indifference, after realizing your feelings may lay in the red for him you had begun switching off the monitor when the human began his...processions.
Still the memory was emblazoned into your mind’s eye as John flutters around you, prattling on and using human phrases you don’t understand like “crop circles” and “you eff ohs”. You are still reeling over how repulsively adorable he is in person; his face too lively, his eyes too blue, his lips...
“ I can resist everything but temptation."
--Award winning actor and Scientologist,Troll Tom Cruise
> John: Tell Karkat you are not a homosexual.
You consider doing this, but Karkat’s tongue is so far down your throat you can’t really say much of anything.
Who would have thought Karkat could be so rude? You don’t know what kind of games they play on his planet, but your father taught you that you should always ask a lady or a gentleman before you kiss them for the first time. Admittedly, he is a pretty good kisser though.
Before you have time to react Karkat tears away from you; he stands there, breathing hard, his fists clenched and his eyes wild.
“I’m not sorry!"
“I don’t care if you think I’m a nooksniffing bastard, I won’t apologize. You want me to say I’m sorry? Well fuck you, John. That was possibly one of the best moments of my grotesque horrorpit of a life! So, fuck you !”
Karkat then spins on his heel, stalking out of the room and slamming the door so hard you’re sure the whole neighborhood heard.
“Um...Wow,” you say to no one in particular, staring dumbfounded at the abused door.
You log onto Pesterchum, looking for guidance from your friends, and find Dave to be the only one online. It’s not really surprising since Dave is literally always online. But before you can even convince him that there’s an alien in your house, much more broach the subject of said alien totally snogging you, you hear your door creak open and see Karkat standing in the frame, his face caught in a limbo between defiance and embarrassment.
You minimize your pester chum window, then scoot your wheelie chair next to the bed, patting the corner as an invitation for him to sit. Karkat obliges then asks, “So...you’re not freaking out about this? A dude from another planet you just formally met about half an hour ago forcibly taking your lips? Isn’t it some kind of nonsensical taboo to have a romantic relationship with another male in your culture?”
“Well, I probably would have freaked out about the whole kissing another guy thing when I was like thirteen, but I’d like to think I’ve matured since then. But you said that you really enjoyed it, which I guess means you like me...?”
Karkat says nothing in response, staring ahead with incredible determination, refusing to meet your eyes.
“...And if that’s true I can’t really be too mad, even if I don’t understand how you could come to like me so quickly. Is that just how alien romance works? Or are you is it because I helped you out?”
Another awkward pause.
“...So, yeah, I’m not angry over something as silly as a kiss. Though I am peeved you didn’t ask before you did it!”
For the first time since he entered the room, Karkat stares straight you with those gorgeous yet disconcerting yellow eyes. “Would you have said yes?”
“Thought as much. What a bulgetease.”
“...What did you say?” You have the feeling you've heard something simliar before. But where would you have heard any of Karkat's weird alien slang?
Karkat's eyes visablly buldge and you notice the hands ball into whiteknuckled fists. “Just more of my crazed alien glibberglab. Nothing for you to be concerned with.”
Seeing his reaction it takes all of a second for it all to come together for you. “It’s you! You’re the one who was trolling me a few weeks ago! The mean one!”
“I can explain, I--”
“Thank you!” You wrap Karkat in the biggest, snuggliest bear hug you can manage.
-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling ectoBiologist [EB] --
CG: SO I KNOW YOU PROBABLY THINK I’M A HUGE BONE BULGE.
CG: AND THAT IS COMPLETELY TRUE.
CG: I AM THE BONE BULGE.
CG: IT IS ME.
CG: BUT IT DOESN’T MEAN I WAS WRONG.
CG: IT IS AN IRREFUTABLE FACT THAT YOU ARE AN IDIOT.
CG: YOU OBVIOUSLY HAVE THE ABILITY TO BE HAPPY BUT WOULD APPARENTLY RATHER BE A MISERABLE FUCKING GRIMSACK, COWERING AWAY FROM COMPANIONSHIP LIKE IT’S A RABID CHOLERBEAR READYING TO DISEMBOWEL YOU.
CG: HAVEN’T THOSE RETARDED BULBOUS EYED HOOFBEASTS TAUGHT YOU THAT FRIENDSHIP IS A SOURCE OF INFINITE MYSTICISM?
CG: I KNOW HOW EASILY YOU MAKE FRIENDS IN YOUR RIDICULOUS ONLINE FORUMS, AND THAT YOU HAVE EVEN MADE RELATIONSHIPS CLOSE TO MOIRALLEGIANCE WITH PEOPLE AS FAR AWAY AS THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FUCKING PLANET.
CG: SO THE FACT YOU DON’T HAVE A SINGLE FRIEND IN REAL LIFE MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE.
CG: THE ONLY LOGICAL EXPLANATION IS JACKASSERY AND MOTHER FUCKERY.
CG: A RAGE PISSING FUCKUP LIKE ME WOULD LITERALLY KILL TO FOR YOUR ABILITY INFLICT FRIENDSHIP LIKE IT’S A HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS DISEASE.
CG: SO WHY DON’T YOU GROW SOME SHAMEGLOBES AND FUCKING LIVE YOUR LIFE ALREADY INSTEAD OF ACTING LIKE AN IMPOTENT BULGEPULLER?
CG: THAT IS ALL I HAVE TO SAY
CG: I WILL NOT ACCOST YOU WITH MY SCREECHING BOTHERNOISE EVER AGAIN.
CG: GOODBYE, JOHN.
-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling ectoBiologist [EB] --
You are Karkat Vantas and you are dumbfounded to find yourself in John Egbert’s embrace considering a few minutes earlier you had kissed him and then proceeded to run about like a squawking, assbrained lunatic. You are also pretty dumbfounded by the fact that you may have actually managed to not completely fuck something up for once.
After the night you had talked to John on Pesterchum you had noticed he made more of an effort to be social, making some friends and even hanging out with them outside of school, but you thought you hadn’t inspired him so much as pissed him off enough that he had set out to prove you wrong.
Apparently you thought wrong; you had inspired John.
“I was really shy at school and I think I came off as unfriendly a lot. People were really surprised when I started to talk to them! I guess I’ve always been kind of introverted and a place as rowdy as school can be overwhelming and even scary sometimes. Plus I always assumed that even if I tried to talk to people they wouldn’t like me. But you were right, I shouldn’t have let my fear get in the way of my happiness! I made some really great friends because of you. Thank you so much for talking to me about it!”
“You...You’re welcome. I said I would enlighten you, didn’t I?”
“Haha, yup.” John beams at you for a moment before a shadow of something passes over his face. “But, wait...doesn’t that mean you knew about me before the crash?”
“...That troll knew a lot about me. Like he’d been watching me. Have you been...watching me, Karkat?”
You are sweating under John’s unwavering gaze; fear grips you like a vice, making your body ache with tension. There’s no way the human’s affinity for you could survive the truth. You absolutely have to find something to say that will fix this. “Uh...”
“Oh my god . You totally have!” John jumps out of his chair, retreating to the back of the room. You catch the glint of fear in his eyes and it breaks your heart a little.
You desperately want approach him, to close the distance between you, but realize it would only frighten him more. Instead you remain sitting on the bed, eyes trained on your lap.“It was part of my mission, it’s not like I was stalking you for the sheer fucking fun of it.”
“Was it part of your mission to contact me?”
“No, that was explicitly not a part of the mission.”
“Then...why did you do it?”
“Because I came to develop feelings for you. Hence the gratuitous sharing of saliva.”
“...Oh.” You’re relieved to see John inching closer to you, till he’s standing directly in front of you. “So...how much did you see?”
“It’s not like your life is especially enthralling, John. It took an incredible amount of intense concentration just to focus on the marathon of mediocrity that is your life for more than a few mind-numbing seconds at a time.”
“You saw everything, didn’t you?”
“For the last four or so months, yes.”
“Excuse me, I’m just gonna go die of embarrassment now.” John collapses onto the bed next to you in a dramatic heap, lying on his stomach and burrowing his face into his arms. John is seemingly desolate, and you are one second away from fleeing the room in shame when John flops onto his back, laughing uncontrollably. “This is so weeeeeeeiiiiird.”
What’s happening here? Shouldn’t he be angry? Not that you’re complaining.
“...If it makes it any better, I stopped watching the embarrassing bits once I realized I was flushed for you. And I’ve pretty much spent every moment since crushed under the immense weight of my own guilt.”
John makes a sympathetic “aw” noise, while laughing even harder. Eventually he sits up, now side by side with you on the bed, grinning. “You know what, Karkat? Even though you’re a douche, you’re also really nice.”
Fuck, was he actually forgiving you just like that? You’re overwhelmed by relief, suddenly realizing your heart has been pounding so hard each beat was like a punch in the chest. “Thank you for the magnanimous compliment. It’ll be difficult not to let my head swell to bulbous proportions with such lavish fucking praise.”
“No, really! If you were just another earth dude I think we’d be really good friends!”
“Are you seriously trying to exile me to the pale zone literally five minutes after I confessed to you?”
“What? You keep saying weird alien stuff I don’t understand. Which is nicely alien of you to do, but also really confusing.”
Somehow you end up having a long discussion with John, trying to explain the complex dynamics of Troll relationships to John, but find yourself being repeatedly interrupted as he makes references to his shitty movies (that you are unfortunately all too familiar with), along with an incessant pinging notification of Pesterchum messages.
“I’m being generous enough to impart knowledge of a vastly sophisticated alien culture light years away from your sad-sack little planet despite your asinine interjections, can you at least mute that piece of social fuckery?”
“Just a sec, I forgot to log out,” John says, walking over to the computer and bringing up the chat window. John reads a couple lines of what you recognize to be the cooldouche’s text, though you can’t make out the words. After a moment John jabs at the keyboard in response and logs off, plopping down next to you in a huff. “Goddammit. Dave can be a real jerk sometimes.”
“From what I observed he can rarely be anything else.”
“You know who Dave is? Does that mean you read my Pesterlogs too?”
This is really a path you don’t want to embark upon, and you figure the answer is pretty obvious anyways, so you ignore the question completely. “What did the cooldouche say?”
“Um, it’s kind of an awkward topic, especially considering today’s events.”
“Let me guess: something regarding you being ‘gay’? Whatever the fuck that even means.” You had noted John’s friends were rather persist in the matter of his sexual preference.
“Um, well, it’s when a guy--”
“I know the technical definition. I just think it’s moronic that there’s a word for it in the first place.”
“Oh...So, yeah.That. Rose and Dave hound me all the time about my ‘repressed sexuality’ and ‘mad ass lust’. Jade pretty much stays out of it, but it still kind of bugs me.”
“Why? You’re obviously not that uncomfortable with the idea since you’ve been pretty nonchalant about me pawing all over you earlier.” Painfully nonchalant, in fact. Anger might have been preferable to John’s astounding indifference.
At least he had the decency to look a little embarrassed by the memory, avoiding your eyes while adjusting his glasses. “...Well, it’s not like I’m against the idea of being gay, but I’m only eighteen, I’ve never had strong feelings for anyone, male or female. I don’t like that they keep trying to force labels onto me. I know they have good intentions, but...”
“They should mind their own goddamn business?”
“Basically, yeah. If I want to talk about it, I’ll talk about it.”
“Did you consider telling them this?”
“...I did not. Every time they brought it up I just kind of got irritated and refused to talk about it. I feel kind of stupid now.”
“Completely understandable, considering that you are, in fact, an idiot.”
“Haha, I guess you're right. But really, you are surprisingly good at this stuff, Karkat. Maybe I should just tell you all of my problems.”
“Sounds fun,” you say, saturating your response in as much sarcasm as you can muster. Which is a lot. Talking to John is easy and comfortable, you have to put extra effort into not to enjoying it.
“Haha, I guess I’ll spare you for now. Are you hungry? I could make us some lunch,” John says, leaning in even closer to you.
You are enormously conscious of John's close proximity and the fact you are both currently sitting atop his bed. Before the desire for sloppy makeouts overpowers your better judgement you blurt out, “Fuck, yes! Let’s go! Right now !”
“Wow, you must be really hungry, Karkat.” John says, giggling.
John leads you down to the kitchen and you wordlessly sit down at the table while he examines the contents of the refrigerator and checks a few cupboards, before settling again in front of the fridge. He spends a long moment staring into it like it’s inside holds some kind of complex riddle before turning to you to ask, “So what do aliens eat, anyways?”
“...I don’t care. Just make whatever.” Goddammit, why do you find every little thing he does so endearing?
“Okay, then! I’d warn you that I’m not a very good cook, but honestly I won’t be cooking so much as heating things up,” he says, cracking a smile.
You watch John pace around the kitchen gathering supplies for a while; at one point he notices your gaze, responding with a goofy grin.
Time with John is entirely too pleasant, you fear you are in danger of becoming even more deeply flushed for him. Which would be devastating for a variety of reasons: firstly, John obviously doesn’t reciprocate; secondly, even if he did, there is the small detail of him being another species; and lastly you’re leaving tomorrow, mostly likely forever.
>Karkat: realize you are totally fucked.
Sorry it's been awhile. I actually have a chunk of the end written already, and I know exactly what's going to happen, but I'm having a lot of trouble with the middle part.
This chapter isn't very exciting either, whoops.
> John: Wow Karkat with your culinary prowess.
If by ‘culinary prowess’ you mean the ability to put a frozen pizza in the oven and manage not to burn it, then you’ve done exactly that!
This day was shaping up to be the weirdest of your life, and possibly the weirdest day a person has had in the history of mankind. On the plus side, Karkat hadn’t tried to eat you or absorb you into a hive mind, or any of the other scary stuff aliens do in movies. However, he had kissed you, along with making a rather violent confession his love. And he had turned out to be the troll!
You never had the guts to try to message him again or even tell your Internet pals about the incident, but you sort of considered the troll to be your foul-mouthed guardian angel. He knew you so well you had seriously thought that he was more than human (maybe a ghost??).You had turned out to be right, but definitely not in the way you had expected.
Which leads to that whole awkward thing about him watching you non-stop for the last whatever months.
Admittedly, it does seems sensible in abstract. If Earth had discovered an alien civilization we’d probably scope them out before making contact too. But it’s a little different when you’re the one being researched and studied like a bug in a jar. Karkat obviously felt really bad about it though, and you were never any good at staying mad at people.
“Prepare to taste one of Earth’s greatest dishes,” you say, setting a few slices on a plate in front of Karkat. “Pizza!”
Karkat crinkles his nose in an obvious display of repulsion. “Didn’t you just eat a whole one of these last night?”
“Yup! That’s how good it is. I could eat it everyday.” This statement doesn’t seem to convince Karkat, who continues glaring at the offending plate, making no indication towards actually eating anything on it.
“Karkat, you said you’d eat whatever I made.”
“Yes, but under the assumed premise that you’d make something that is actually edible.”
You feel a flicker of annoyance before you realize that this situation is ripe for some classic Egbertian pranking.
“Karkat, pizza is globally recognized as a peace offering. Refusing to eat a pizza slice given to you by another party is an insult to them, and a symbolizes feelings of animosity. And , since we’re essentially ambassadors for our planets, by not eating it you are practically declaring war on Earth. It will be my civic duty as an American to contact the authorities. If anyone found out I let a threat against humanity go unreported, I would be put to death for treason.”
“...Is that really true?”
“Yes, absolutely.” Karkat still looks doubtful so you add, “Now don’t make me call the president, young man.”
He stares at you for a long moment and you respond with pleading eyes, utilizing the sad puppy look you usually reserve for when your father is angry with you.“Please, Karkat?”
Finally he averts his eyes from your face, saying, “Whatever, if it’s that big of a deal then I’ll just choke it down I guess.”
“Oh, thank you!” You are unable to suppress the giggle that always follows the completion of one your hilarious pranks, but Karkat doesn’t seem to notice, picking up a pizza slice and taking a hesitant bite.
You watch him chew, unable to decipher his expression.”Soooo? Do you like it?”
“It tastes like a pile of crusty assholes,” he says, taking another bite. You figure that must be grumpy alien speak for ‘this is the best thing I have ever tasted’ because he wolfs down his first slice and moves on to the next in under a minute.
“...Oookay, then,” you say, chuckling as you rise from your chair. Another prank masterfully executed by the master prankster. “Stay here and eat as much as you like, I’m going to take quick shower.”
Despite your (totally true) proclamation that you’d never tire of pizza, you’re actually still pretty full from last night. Plus, all that junk food (along with hanging out at a smoldering crash site) has left you feeling pretty greasy and more than likely a little smelly.
“If you finish eating before I’m done you can just wander around or watch TV, okay?”
“Whatever,” he replies, too engrossed in his pizza to pay much attention to you.
You skedaddle out of the kitchen and head upstairs, and only a few minutes later you’re in the shower, hot water streaming over your body.
Most people, in this isolated moment, would realize the gravity of their situation. They would realize that the stranger sitting in their kitchen could possibly be very dangerous. That his presence could pose a threat not only to you, but to your entire species. They would be forced to understand that the world is so much larger than they thought, and that Earth might only be a blip on the universe’s radar. They’d think these thoughts and feel very small, very afraid, and very much alone.
But you are not most people. You’re John Egbert. You don’t even dwell on the fact you were kissed by the alien boy downstairs, nor does it even occur to you to feel awkward about the prospect of spending the rest of the day and night with him. The only matter you devote any consternation to is in choosing which one of your awesome movies you should show Karkat first, humming as you lather shampoo into your hair.
After half an hour you are dressed and and squeaky clean, and you enter the kitchen to find Karkat absent, along with the rest of the pizza. You’re pleased to note his plate in the sink, rinsed off and everything. You laugh a little, such a polite act seeming comical in contrast to the alien’s gruff demeanour.
Since you didn’t see him while you were upstairs or when you passed through the living room you decide to check the study; sure enough, you find Karkat standing in front of the piano, staring down at the keys. He suddenly jabs at a key, startling slightly as it sounds, cocking his head as if he was totally perplexed by the instrument.
The hyper-intelligent alien being dumbfounded by an ordinary Earth object, it’s exactly how you’d expect an alien to act; it’s so classic and so adorable , you break out into a fit of giggles so severe you have to grip the doorway for support.
Alarmed of your presence, his head jerks towards you, his hands flying to his sides as he makes a guilty retreat away from the piano. A swell of fondness for the alien overcomes you. Karkat's prickly personality is funny and cute and, although you’ve only known him for a few hours, you already feel comfortable around him. It's the first time you've felt to at ease with someone so quickly, it pains you to remember he'll be leaving tomorrow.
“What the fuck is this thing,” he mumbles, rousing you from your thoughts.
“Don’t they have pianos on your super sophisticated, totally superior planet? Holy crap, don’t tell me you don’t have music?”
“Yes, we fucking have music, moron. It plays an important role in organizing and motivating troops. But we have percussion cylinders and resonating tubular devices, things that can be carried. Why would we bother to make an instrument you can’t take onto the battlefield?”
“Well, music here is different. I mean it’s a lot of different things to different people, but mainly it’s just supposed to be something you enjoy and makes you feel good.” You approach the piano, lightly brushing your hands across the smooth surface of the keys. “Some of Earth’s greatest songs are played on the piano.”
“Ah, I had forgotten your race’s obsession with ‘ the arts ’. You know, if humans didn’t waste all their time on such unproductive pastimes you would have developed a spacecraft that could at least travel light speed.”
“It’s not useless,” you huff, stomping over to your father’s desk and dragging the chair in front of the piano before plopping into it and fixing Karkat with a stern gaze. “I’m going to play a haunting piano refrain and it’s going to be beautiful and you are going to like it. Got it?”
“I really don’t,” Karkat replies, full of snark.
You then proceed to play a haunting piano refrain, which is in fact very beautiful, and that Karkat--despite his best efforts--likes very much.
Alternia’s basic philosophy is that everything must have a clear and defined place and purpose, whether it is technology, music, or even trolls themselves. Everything is made to simply serve a designated function. Aesthetics is a completely foreign concept to most trolls, and a pretty stupid one at that. You never in your life thought you could be affected by something as intangible and purposeless as a simple song, yet here you are.
You’re mesmerized by the controlled grace of John’s hands; it seems inconceivable that someone as abrasively whimsical as John is capable of such refined movements. The keys that had sounded so jarring at your touch are now weaving a delicate melody under his fingertips, and as the music swells it consumes you completely. For a brief, beautiful moment you forget yourself completely before the song ends and you're forced to remember where and who you are.
“So what did you think?” John is gazing up at you, looking a little self-conscious despite his earlier display of confidence.
You really want to tell him you hated it just to spite him, but your heart is still pounding from the music and you’re staring into those big, impossibly blue eyes, and fuck, even you have a collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system.
“...As bulgeknottingly painful as it is to say this, that was actually not completely terrible.”
“I knew you’d like it,” John says, rising from the piano with a smirk.
“Whatever, I still think the majority of human music still amounts to audible garbage.”
“I guess I can’t completely disagree with that,” John says, heading into the living room. You follow him out to find him sitting on the carpet in front of the television. You to take a seat on the couch, watching as he starts browsing through some dvds.
“Yeah, a lot of the stuff Dave makes me listen to is pretty awful. I guess it’s supposed to be cool, but I’m not really hip enough to get it. I can never tell when stuff if I’m supposed to genuinely like something or appreciate it ironically, or whatever. How can you even like something ironically? You either like it or you don’t, you know?”
He continues chattering, but you’re not really listening. The memory of him playing the piano still has you bespelled, you can’t help but to stare at those beautiful hands and you start to imagine those deft fingers caressing things besides piano keys, which is dangerous, so you try extra hard to pay attention to what he’s saying, but instead end up noticing the way his still-wet hair is clinging to the nape of his neck and--
“So, uh, what type of movies do you like,” John asks, staring straight at you, probably into the depths of your filthmongering, shitstain of a soul. You really need to kick this nasty habit of having wildly vivid erotic fantasies about people while they’re sitting two feet away from you.
You notice John looking at you expectantly and remember he’s waiting for your response. “Oh, rom-coms, I guess. Not that any of your planet’s films could compare with Alternian cinema.”
“Oh man, don’t say that! Earth movies are great, you’ll see,” he replies, returning to his search for the perfect dvd. “Well, since it’s just me and dad in the house we don’t have a lot of chick-flicks, but I think I can find something we both can enjoy.”
“You better not pull out fucking Con-Air or I will cull you.”
“It’s not Con-Air, jeez. And stop using all your creepy stalker knowledge on me, it’s weirding me out...Ah-ha! I knew it was around here somewhere!” John slides a case of the shelf he was looking at, putting the disc inside into the dvd player.
“What did you put in,” you ask, dreading the answer.
“Patience, young one. All will become clear,” he says, turning on the television and setting it up for the movie.
“It’s fucking Nicolas Cage, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but you’ll like it! Now shush, the movie starting.” He flops down on the couch next to you, eyes glued to the television screen.
The movie exceeds your expectations, which really isn’t saying a lot considering how astoundingly low they were. You’re just thankful that it was even marginally better than Con-Air.
The Cagedouche played a man who could see two minutes into the future at a time, with the exception of a vision he had about meeting a woman at certain diner at 8:09. Thus, he came to the diner twice a day at that time till they eventually met. Even you have to admit that such dedication to fulfilling a quadrant was pretty admirable. Unfortunately, the plot quickly devolved into a lot of gunfights and explosions, which was astoundingly boring.
After that John turned on something called ‘Netflix’ and let you pick out something from the romance section. You suspect this was an excuse to nap rather than a gesture of kindness, because John is snoring not even twenty minutes into the movie.
“Wake the fuck up, you bludgebag,” you hiss, shoving him hard enough to wake him.
“Hm? I’m sorry did I fall asleep,” he asks, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
“Yes. Apparently all that talk about there not being enough time together was just utter bullshit, since you’d rather be unconscious than watch one fucking romcom with me.”
“I’m sorry, Karkat. It was an accident, I swear.” Any attempts to sound apologetic are ruined by the teasing smile that tugs at his lips.
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” you respond, crossing your arms and returning your gaze to the movie.
“Aw, don’t pout! I’ll watch your shitty movie with you okay? And I’ll stay awake the whole time I promise. If I fall asleep again then I give you permission to do whatever you want with me,” John says, wagging his eyebrows.
“In that case I encourage you to sleep,” you say, alternately shushing him and patting the side of his face.
You place a finger over his lips. “Shhhh, now is the time for slumber.”
“Stoooop,” John says laughingly, swatting your hands away. “I have to stay awake now, my chastity is at stake.”
“Uhg, you douche.” You withdraw your hands, leaning back into the couch. “Seriously, I can’t believe you have the globes to flirt with me after everything that happened today.”
John rolls his eyes, still grinning. “I’m not flirting with you, Karkat.”
You hesitate, unsure whether you should press the matter. “...You kind of were, John.”
“What? Nooo...” He pauses, the huge grin on his face slowly turning into a look of consternation. Suddenly his eyes bulge and he shouts, ”FUCK! I WAS, WASN’T I?”
“THAT’S WHAT I SAID, YES,” you shout back, instinctively raising your voice to match his.
John stares at you, dumbfounded. ”Does that mean I like you?”
“I DON’T KNOW? PROBABLY NOT.” Fuck. You started yelling and now you’re stuck because, let’s just be honest, it’s kind of your default setting.
“Why don’t you think I’d like you?”
“I’M NOT VERY LIKABLE.”
John almost looks a little offended. “Well I do like you. So there.”
“WHAT? HOW THE HELL WOULD YOU KNOW? YOU WERE JUST ASKING ME IF YOU LIKED ME, THE PERSON IN QUESTION, FIVE SECONDS AGO,” you say, burying your head in your hands in frustration.
“Well, that was five seconds ago, okay? Since then I’ve decided I most definitely like you,” John says, smiling shyly.
“Yes. Now, calm the fuck down,” John says, placing his hand on your shoulder.
“OKAY. I mean, okay,” you reply, tentatively placing your hand over his.
The warm sensation of his soft skin under yours makes your stomach dance and for a moment you both just sit there, stealing glances, too shy to look into each other’s eyes.
John eventually breaks the silence, moving his hand as he does. “So...what now? Are we mateyguys or whatever you call it?”
“Matesprits,” you correct, only slightly annoyed. ”And why would you want to start anything with me when I’m leaving tomorrow?”
“Why not? Kids at school literally start dating and break up withing the same day all the time. Anyways, how many chances do you get to date an alien?”
You can think of a million reasons you both should avoid any kind of romantic entanglement, foremost being the inevitability of your heart being totally and completely decimated when you leave, but you say nothing.
John leans towards you, his face more serious than you had thought possible. “You wanna do this or not?”
“Okay then. Let’s finish your shitty movie,” he says unpausing the television.
“It’s not shitty...” You lose your train of thought as John once again lays his hand over yours.
“Good.” He smiles then leans over, pecking you on the cheek.
“You know what, John?”
You place your hands on both sides of his face, pulling him toward you. “I fucking hate how just grotesquely cute you are. Your fucking adorable mouth and buttoney fucking nose and those goddamned fucking eyes. They’re so beautiful it’s sickening.”
John giggles madly. “Karkat, you’re really bad at this.”
“What I’m trying to say is fuck this shitty movie, let’s make out.”
You capture John’s lips, his words lost in a long, deep kiss. You make a note that making out with people mid-sentence was yet another bad habit you should probably kick as John leans back, dragging you down with him.
It's been a while since I updated, for some reason I tend to write more during the school year? Anyhow, I didn't want to put it on record since I'm not for sure, but this fic should just have one more chapter. Ideally. If it all fits.
it took forever but i finally got the next chapter up. you might have noticed i added another chapter though. sorry.
also, i made a bumped up karkat's departure to sunday morning instead of sunday night along with some other minor changes to previous chapters.
hopefully the last chapter won't take me, like, six months to write. i'm aiming for one. we'll see how it goes.
anyways, thanks for reading and commenting! i really, really appreciate all the nice comments people have left! it makes my day every time!
You have to admit you’re a little surprised by Karkat. Honestly, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that’s gotten a lot of action in the past, but he’s an amazing kisser. The movie you had only been about two thirds the way through had already ended and lapsed back to the Netflix menu, but you find have no desire to tear yourself away from Karkat.
You were a little wary of the teeth at first, but the edges are dulled enough that they don’t cut into your tongue or anything. In fact, as Karkat mouths at your neck, nibbling occasionally at the exposed flesh, you think that you like them rather a lot. You mirror the action and are rewarded with a low moan from Karkat, and wow you’ve never thought the sound of a guy’s voice could be so sexy before.
You’re also surprised to find that he’s crushing you a little? Karkat is noticeably shorter than you, and even accounting for his broader frame, it doesn’t seem like he should feel this heavy. This is explained quickly as you run your down hands his chest to his navel, feeling hard muscle under the fabric of his shirt. Jesus, are those...abs?
You didn’t even notice since you’ve only seen him in bulky or loose-fitting clothes. You (supper subtly) move one of your hands to his bicep, just for a test squeeze and—holy shit—it’s like a fucking rock. No wonder you could barely drag him out of the wreckage yesterday.
You break away from your kiss, never one to miss out on an opportunity for a bad joke.
“The gentleman would like a ticket to the gun show, please,” you say, wagging your eyebrows as suggestively as possible.
“What?” Karkat barks, visibly annoyed by the interruption.
Oh, yeah. Karkat is an alien and therefore completely ignorant of awful human pick-up lines. Bummer. “Oh, jeez. It’s a human thing. It means you’ve got muscles, man.”
Karkat scowls and makes this face you realize means he thinks you’re being stupid (you’re pretty familiar with it by this point). “...Being in the military can do that to a person. That and needing to defend myself from possible culling attempts every time I leave my hive.”
“Okay, my turn—What?”
He lets out an irritated sigh in response. “Not important.”
“Shut up and kiss me, idiot.”
Once again you find yourself with a mouthful of Karkat; he kisses you fiercely, waging a full out assault on you with his tongue. The good news is Karkat has successfully distracted you from the decidedly unsexy topic of murder. The bad news is in your pants, growing bigger by the minute.
“I think we need to stop and talk for a minute,” you manage to say, your face hot as you attempt to push him off of you. Of course, he doesn’t budge because he’s like ten times stronger than you. Dammit, that’s both hot and annoying.
Karkat eyes you for a moment, seemingly confused; then his eyes widen, seemingly in understanding, and he quickly averts his gaze.
“Writhing on top of you and bossing you around…Fuck, I’m so stupid,” Karkat says, his voice straining, obviously on the verge of tears.
Karkat tries to push off the couch, but you cling to him, throwing your arms around his neck and locking your legs around his torso. “What! No! That’s not—!”
“John, will you fucking quit it? You were confused and I took advantage of you.”
“Karkat, that doesn’t even make sense! I kissed you first, dumbnuts! Did that head injury cause actual brain damage? You are lying directly on top of me, do you really need me to spell this out for you?”
“What..? Oh.” You let your legs and arms fall and he sits up, straddling your legs, eyes fixed on your crotch.
You bury your face in your hands, trying to hide the blush you feel burning across your cheeks.
“…I know you’ve seen it all before, but could you please not stare at my boner when I’m right fucking here?”
“S-sorry!” Karkat scrambles off of you, taking refuge on the far side of the couch while you sit up, trying to decide if you should tough it out or hide your shame under a throw pillow.
You decide against the pillow; as if this isn’t humiliating enough without being so obviously self-conscious about it. “Sorry, I guess I kind of killed the mood there,” you say, forcing yourself to laugh.
“You didn’t,” he replies, somewhat unconvincingly, since he refuses to look at you.
“Really? Because I’m just some scrawny nerd with an overbite, and you’re super fit and—even with the grey skin and the spooky eyes and the teeth—somehow crazy hot.”
“I can’t fathom the shit fucking kind of thinking that could lead you to believe that you are undesirable, much less that I am anything more than a walking, talking pile of assfaced garbage. You really are the dumbest person I’ve ever met, and considering the company of festering douchebags that I am ashamed to call my friends, that is an unbelievably high bar. But, congrats, you made the cut.”
You scoot closer, nudging Karkat with your elbow. “You think I’m desirable?”
Karkat lets out an exasperated sigh. “Is that really all you got out of that?”
You can’t help but to grin, plopping your head onto his lap and looking up with glee at Karkat’s scowling face. “You think I’m cuuuuuuuuuute.”
“Yes, I think you’re cute. You’d have to be to make up for that hideous defect you call a personality.”
“Asshole,” you reply, though it sounds more like a term of endearment than an insult. You take a fistful of his shirt, pulling him down and pecking him on the lips. “Anyways, since we’re more or less on the topic of boners, like, what do you even have down there?”
Any hint of pleasure your kiss had lent to Karkat’s face is quickly erased as his face twists in disgust. “John, you shit spewing fuckcake, can’t we just have a single romantic moment without you pissing all over it? What kind of lurid deviant asks someone to describe their genitals on the first date?”
“Says the guy who secretly watched me masturbate for months.”
You’ve actually managed to render Karkat speechless—he struggles for a full minute before managing to speak again. “…Point taken. Okay, I refuse to hold your hand and lead you through the grubs and the pails like a fledging adolescent experiencing manhood for the first time, but I will say that the external anatomy of trolls and humans are surprisingly similar.”
“Gosh, how similar,” you ask, unable to suppress the wiggling of your eyebrows.
“I know I saw yours, but I’m not actually going to show you mine.”
“Fiiiiine, just tell me about yourself then. You know, since you already know everything about me.”
“Considering the fact I’m literally from a different planet that could take a while.”
“We’ve got time.” You reach up, brushing his hair from his forehead and then gently pressing the fraying edges of his head bandage. “Tell me everything.”
Karkat must’ve been waiting for a sign that touching was okay, because he almost immediately begins running his fingers through your hair; you give a little hum of pleasure in response. He doesn’t actually smile, but somehow you can sense that he’s happy.
He begins speaking and he really does tell you everything—about his ‘hive’, his lusus, his friends, his enemies; you even get a brief history lesson on Alternia, including the outs and ins of quadrants and the hemospectrum. You occasionally ask questions—mostly to get him back on track when he goes on a particularly rambling rant—but mostly you just listen. And laugh. Karkat has a way of making you laugh.
You don’t even notice time going by till you glance at the window and notice the lines of light between the shades growing dimmer (Karkat told you of his species’ aversion to light, explaining why the all the shades and curtains were drawn when you woke up—well besides the obvious reason of not wanting to be seen). This is the first time in your life you’ve just hung out with someone and just talked for hours without getting bored. Even your talks with your online friends are broken up by web surfing and videogames. It occurs to you that you really like this guy. A lot.
Which leads you to interrupt his lecture in the subtle differences in nuance between troll and human Will Smith to ask, “So, is there any chance you can come back and visit occasionally? I thought maybe we could upgrade from weekend fling to long-distance…guys who are dating.”
“Boyfriends, John. I know you’re not going to manage my culture’s romantic terminology, but at least try not to mangle your own. But that’s completely irrelevant, because I’m not coming back.”
You don’t even try to hide the disappointment you know is evident in your face. “Seriously? Why not?”
“I was here on a military mission—I mean, the whole mission was a giant fucking joke, and possibly an assassination attempt, but still. Trolls can’t just go bounding off to whatever planet they feel like dicking around at.”
“Which brings us back to the whole people trying to murder you thing,” you say, Karkat grimacing in response.
“For someone who is trying to avoid talking about this, you sure bring it up a lot.”
“I know, it’s a fucking curse! I literally have no control over what shitbrained thought that comes disgorging out my mouth. I shove my own foot down my protein chute so consistently I shit shoes on a daily basis.”
“Dude, that’s actually really disgusting,” you say, crinkling your nose.
“Fuck! See? I did it again!” Karkat’s practically tearing his hair out with frustration.
Thankfully you’ve quickly grasped the solution to soothing Karkat when he gets all self-loathing and shouty. You lift you head from his legs and scoot back till you’re sitting on his lap, then wrap your arms around him, nuzzling his check with your nose. “Karkat, calm down. You’re fine. Just shut up and breathe for a sec.”
He actually does what he’s told, looking at you sheepishly before leaning in for a kiss. You kiss back for a moment before saying, “That doesn’t mean you get out of telling me why people want to kill you though. Do you need help? What is going on?”
Karkat makes an irritated grumbling noise in the back of his throat. “Okay, were you actually paying attention when I told you about the hemospectrum?”
“Yes, I was listening.” Despite the seriousness of the situation you can’t help but too add under your breath, “Rudepants Mc Nubbyhorns.“
“Shut up. On Alternia individuality is largely considered a waste of time. Your identity is defined by the color of your blood. You saw my blood right?”
“Yeah, it was red. It looked pretty human-y, actually.”
“Exactly. Red isn’t a part of the hemospectrum. I’m a mutant. On a planet where being different is a death sentence. It’s a miracle that I’m even alive.”
“So…you think someone might’ve sabotaged your ship?”
“It’s pretty likely. I’m surprised the higher ups haven’t tried to cull me sooner. A mutant in the military—it’s a fucking embarrassment.”
“Why did you join the military if you knew they’d try to kill you?”
“I didn’t really have a choice. You grow up, you join the conquest. I used to think I really wanted to do it, but I have to admit as assbackwards as this shitball planet is, it made me realize how fucked up everything back home is. I’ve never killed anyone. And that’s rare for trolls. I tried to pretend I was normal, tried to force myself into being like everyone else, but I don’t want to kill anyone. Even if they were just trying to off me, I’m glad I got this assignment. That I didn’t have to make that choice.”
“I’m really, really happy. Not about the whole people trying to murder you thing. I’m glad that you’re not like that. That you aren’t okay with killing. I mean, for one thing I’d probably be dead right now. I think most trolls would’ve just smothered me in my sleep or something.”
Karkat makes an expression like you had just punched him in the gut. “…This is actually getting embarrassing. I had honestly not even considered it. I mean, I would never have killed you, but I wish at least it could’ve been a conscious decision? Fuck, even a giggling shitclown like you is better at being a troll than me.”
You laugh, shifting off of his lap and onto the couch beside him, noting the flicker of disappointment in Karkat’s face. Wow, that’s cute. You make it up to him by intertwining your fingers with his and giving his hand a squeeze. “Haha, it’s a good thing we’re not going to be a long-term thing then, because you’d have to get used to me being better than you at stuff.”
“If by ‘better’ you mean laughably incompetent, then yes.”
“Yeah, right. Incompetent like a fox,” you say, knowing as it left your mouth how stupid you sound. You both laugh a little a little before lapsing into silence.
A moment later Karkat hasn’t said anything; you figure now is as good of time as any to ask the question that’s been on your mind for a while. “…Okay, I’ve been kind of afraid to ask you this, but did you really just come here to learn about Earth culture and stuff? Because trolls don’t really seem too big on the whole peace and understanding thing.”
Karkat actually look relieved. “Thank God. I thought you were going to ask about troll anatomy again. Yeah, don’t worry about it. Earth is worthless in eyes of the empire. They only sent me here so they could laugh at the freak red blood being right at home on a planet full of red-blooded primitive douchelicks.”
“You do realize you’re weekend dating a red-blooded primitive douchelick,” you say, lightly punching his arm in mock anger.
“I never proclaimed to have good taste in romantic partners.”
“Haha, whatever. Let’s head up to my room, I want to change into my pajamas.”
“Yeah, okay,” Karkat says, hesitantly letting go of your hand and rising from the couch.
You climb the stairs together, Karkat trailing behind you as you head towards your room. Once inside you rifle through your closet, eventually unearthing a clean pair of plaid pajama pants (you decide not to bother finding a second for Karkat since he’s wearing sweatpants). You turn to find Karkat sitting on your bed, watching you.
“Could you, um, turn around for a second please?”
“Seriously? You change in front of ten other guys every day at school.”
You guess you shouldn’t be surprised that Karkat even watched during something as mundane as PE. Actually, watching you get pummeled with dodge balls is probably the highlight of his day. “Yeah, but I haven’t made out with any of those guys, so just turn the fuck around please.”
Karkat rolls his eyes but does as he’s told, pulling his legs up and scooting around till he’s facing the wall. You quickly yank off your jeans and pull on your PJs, pouncing onto Karkat before he has the chance to defend himself. He lets out a yelp as you knock him over, and you go sprawling together across the bed, all entangled limbs and giggles as Karkat tries to wrestle/tickle you in revenge.
You manage to come out on top, short of breath from laughing so much, but mostly unharmed. Unlike you, Karkat isn’t winded at all, and he’s smiling up at you, adoration so plain on his face that you nearly blush in response. You’re pretty sure he went easy on you, since he could’ve easily overpowered you. The idea that he wanted you to end up on top of him enters you mind, and you feel momentarily cheated before realizing how cute that actually is.
Suddenly overwhelmed by Karkat’s cuteness, you’re seized by the urge to kiss every inch of his stupidly adorable grey face. Karkat protests as you rain kisses onto his nose, cheeks, eyelids, and forehead, but makes no move to stop you. After one last kiss to his lips you eventually stop, laying your head on his chest with a sigh.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow morning. This totally blows.”
“It could be worse,” Karkat responds simply, already beginning to stroke your hair.
“Let’s not sleep at all tonight, okay? I want to use the time we—“ You can’t even finish the sentence before you’re interrupted by a giant yawn.
Now that you’re in bed, cuddled up with Karkat in your PJs, a comfy, warm feeling has filled your belly, making you feel more safe and relaxed than you have since you were a kid. That, combined with your preexisting tendency to go to sleep early has left you feeling so sleepy you can barely keep your eyes open.
“Go to sleep, John. Aside from receiving a minor concussion, there’s no way I can sleep without a recuperacoon. I’ll wake you up after a bit and we can spend the whole night talking about Nicholas Cage or whatever other asstrumpet you’ve got a huge human buldge for.”
“Yes, go to sleep.”
“Okay, I guess...” You slide off Karkat’s chest and curl into a more comfortable position by his side, throwing a leg over him and resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m really glad I met you, Karkat.”
“Me too, John.”