Chapter Text
"Do you honestly think he hasn't figured it out by now?"
Karkat looks pointedly at Egbert, who's talking animatedly to Roxy on the other side of the clearing. With the light filtering prettily through the leaves, they look a picture of heterosexual bliss. It’s the final shot of dozens of Karkat’s terrible Rom-coms, a textbook “happily ever after” pose with the couple giggling contentedly at each other’s jokes. Knowing those two they’re probably dirty jokes, shit you’d never say in polite company, but somehow that’s even more perfect. You want that. You want to sit with Karkat’s head in your lap and talk about bullshit until the sun sets, but you can’t because you’re a fucking coward.
It's been a week since the dust of creation finally settled over your new paradise, and you still haven't had 'the talk' with John. The 'I like dudes as well as ladies, and that information is kinda pretty relevant since I've been dating Karkat over a year' talk. A part of you wishes Egbert had the social skills to put two and two together and come up with the bright-red number four that's been under his nose this whole time, but he obviously hasn't. Even though you practically haven't let Karkat out of your sight for the whole time you've been here, he just. Doesn't. Get it.
"Are you kidding me?" You reply, flopping backward in a show of frustration. "Unless we start making out right in front of him, he's not gonna notice a damn thing. He honest to God gave me a noogie yesterday and was all:
'Jimeny jillikers, Dave! It's great that you and Karkat are such awesome pals! I'm sorry I've been spending so much time with Roxy, but I'll come hang out with you guys soon and we can have a bropalfriendfest and build a pillow fort' or some equally dumb charming bullshit."
You sigh, brushing your fringe out of your eyes and wondering how long the stupid victory message is going to be branded onto the sky.
"I have no idea how he'd feel if he knew what kind of shenanigans usually go down in one of our pillow forts, but I sincerely doubt he'd want to join in."
Karkat wrinkles his nose, a sure-fire sign that you're being an idiot. Warmth spreads comfortably through your chest as he carefully lies down next to you, his fingers finding the hand that's out of John's sight, trapped between your bodies. Even that small touch is enough to still the fluttering in your stomach, and you wonder how you ever got it so good. Karkat knows you inside and out, and even though you're a generous 40% asshole (minimum) he still takes your pain and worry away as if he can't get enough of it. As if he can draw it all out of you somehow until you're left shiny and clean.
"Dave, relax. It's John, for fuck's sake. You know, the kid you've been best friends with for six of your human years?"
You snort, becuse he only describes things as "human" this or "human" that to make you laugh. Stupid adorable alien.
"He cares about you; he's not going to fucking cast you out into the wilderness just because you're dating a guy. A guy who happens to be one of his good friends, at that. If he says anything more idiotic than usual, I'll kick his ass so hard he'll still be standing up on his deathbed."
Real, full laughter bubbles up in your chest this time at the image of John walking around with severe ass-pain for the uncertain remainder of his lifespan. None of you know how long you'll live, but you figure it's not a concern for now. When you arrived on Earth Karkat was worrying his nubs off about being the first to kick the bucket (your words, and not an effective way to make light of things, as it turned out), until you reminded him that Jane had revived an entire planet's worth of life. Keeping one troll alive for as long as he wanted would be a piece of cake. Literally, in Jane's case. All of you are going to get very fat if she continues working out her emotional issues with baked goods.
As much as you want to let it out, your laugh is silent, the way it was before you spent three years practically living in the lap of six other people. The meteor changed you, and that's half of the problem. You're not sure the Dave that John spent his childhood years chatting to even exists anymore. Karkat squeezes your hand gently; he knows exactly what you're worried about. You tell him everything these days, like a constant emotional bulletin (this just in: Dave is feeling insecure about his scars again and will be wearing long sleeves for the foreseeable future even though it's hot as balls right now), so that he doesn't worry that you're bottling things up. Karkat worries a lot, and you owe it to him not to add to the pile. How the fuck you lived without him is a puzzle, although you think you solved it a while ago when he was wrapped around you like a sleeping koala: you didn't. Not really.
“I guess.”
You don’t sound confident. You’re not confident. John knew you when you were a confused little kid who fronted so hard there was practically nothing left behind the bluster. At thirteen, shoving your emotions into an ironically-gift-wrapped box had been a survival tactic. You told yourself you were tough, when in reality you were just scared out of your fucking mind. Dropping your guard enough to get close to Karkat had been harder than fighting a thousand ruby giclopses. Giclopi? Whatever, it’s probably not important. That pretty box had been dragged out from whatever cranny of your mind it had been lurking in, and you’d taken hold of the metaphorical red ribbon and pulled. You’d won, in the end. You’d beaten your demons back until they were nothing but a soft, omnipresent murmur in the back of your mind. You’re a semi-competent human being now, and proud of it. But you’re not the same human being that John used to bro out with back when he still thought Con-Air was the pinnacle of human cinema.
“Dave. Stop worrying.” Karkat’s voice cuts through your thoughts. He’s so good at that.
“You’ll be fine. He’ll be fine with it; you know he hasn’t given Rose any shit about being with Kanaya. He’s been a perfect little Earth-gentleman toward everyone, in a comically blundering Egbert sort of way.”
It’s not the same, and you don’t know how to explain it to Karkat even though he’s got a pretty good handle on how human friendships work these days. John made Rose and Kanaya bunches of flowers with “Congratulations on the Sex” written on both cards, and you sure as hell don’t want to get one of those. Your inner voices scream that you wouldn’t anyway. You don’t think John will be all that amused.
“OK, fine, you’ve convinced me,” you lie. “I’ll do it as soon as Roxy leaves, alright? Just rip the rainbow band-aid right off.”
Karkat frowns as you sit up, curling forward so you can support your arms on your knees.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Take as much time as you need. I know it’s a big deal, even if I don’t understand any of it. I’m not a complete asshole, Strider.”
He elbows you gently in the side, softly reminding you of how far you’ve come. Once, that was all the physical contact you could bear to exchange, little bro-touches that couldn’t be misinterpreted. You knew there was nobody watching you, nobody to get the wrong idea, and in the end Karkat had grabbed firmly onto the wrong end of the stick with both hands anyway. Except it wasn’t the wrong end at all, and when hiding from him had made you feel like you were suffocating inside a soundproof glass box, you realized he was your oxygen. You’re through all of that now, past the sweaty palms and constant anxiety, and you’re so fucking glad.
Your current problem is stressful for different reasons because you know not being able to act like a couple is draining away Karkat’s hope for the future. It’s hurting him, and you’re supposed to keep him safe forever.
“Nah, I’m not ready, but I gotta do it now. I’m done with pretending to be someone I’m not.”
Karkat’s smile melts you from the inside out.