Chapter Text
When Dave moves into his college dorm, he doesn’t realize he’s signing up to live right across the hall from the loudest guy on earth, also known as Karkat Vantas.
Karkat is shrill, nosey, overly opinionated, and obnoxious as all hell. Until he isn’t. Well, Karkat doesn’t change at all, but after a couple weeks Dave ends up developing an easy familiarity with him. An affection, even. If Dave’s pressed to admit it, yeah, he actually kinda likes the guy.
Sure, Karkat has a lot of annoying traits, but Dave can tell that he’s all-around a really decent person. He’s fiercely protective of his new college friend group, of which Dave is apparently a member, judging by the way Karkat’s always hassling him to remember to eat dinner and study and shit. He’s always willing to stay up late with someone to help them cram for a test or finish an essay, even if he grumbles about it the whole time. And he unashamedly watches his shitty rom-coms on the big-screen TV in the common room. Dave can’t help but have some respect for that.
They hang out together all the time, Karkat practically a fixture in Dave’s day, although it’s usually with a bunch of other people around. They study together in a group, and often go down to eat meals in the dining hall at the same time, again usually in a group. All in all, Dave doesn’t really pay any more attention to Karkat than he does his other new friends.
Then, one morning, everything changes.
Dave gets up to take a piss, slipping his flip-flops on, leaving his shades on his bedside table, and walking sleepily to the communal bathroom. Someone’s taking a shower and he ignores them, going straight to the urinals. As he’s washing his hands, he glances in the mirror. He’s got a view of the showers, and the occupied stall has its curtain pushed aside slightly. Before he can tell his bi ass to stop perving on his floormate, his eyes land on the guy’s fantastic, amazing, gorgeous masterpiece of an ass. He can’t tell who he is, he’s facing away from Dave, rinsing his hair, so Dave’s eyes linger on that ass, then travel up and down the rest of the body, admiring him. Damn, who is this hottie?
Then the guy starts to turn around and Dave catches a glimpse of his profile. His eyes widen as he realizes it’s Karkat, and he snaps his gaze away quickly, shutting off the water and rushing out of the bathroom.
That was three weeks ago, and Dave still can’t stop thinking about it.
Every time he sees Karkat during a study session, or in the dining hall, his cheeks flush and blood rushes to other areas as well, as the memory of Karkat’s ass flashes before his eyes. It doesn’t help that he’s been noticing other things too, like Karkat’s cute grumpy little pout, his soft-looking hair, and his laugh when he’s caught off guard by something funny. One time Karkat yawns and stretches, his sweatshirt lifting to reveal several inches of his stomach, and Dave knocks over a glass of water in panic.
Right now, Dave’s lounging on his bed, scrolling through Twitter even though he really should be studying, and daydreaming about Karkat’s ass yet a-fucking-gain. His roommate Sollux is deep into some coding project and totally ignoring him, and Dave lets himself get lost in his fantasy, half-closing his eyes and trying to imagine what Karkat might do if Dave just asked to cop a feel of his excellent badonk. Probably he’d slap Dave in the face. Ugh, but that would still be hot. Dave holds in a groan. What is wrong with him?
All of a sudden, the overhead lights flicker and go out, and the loud hum of his roommate’s oversized computer shuts off, leaving them both in confused silence.
Sollux curses. “Fuck, I wa’th right in the middle of th’omething!”
“Sucks, bro,” Dave sympathizes.
He gets up and wanders out into the hallway, confirming with his floormates that yes, everyone’s power did go out, and yes it probably is a blackout. The R.A. comes out of their room after a few minutes and tells everyone that the utility company is aware of the issue, but unfortunately the power probably won’t be back on until early tomorrow morning.
Dave pulls out his phone to check the time, it’s only 8 pm. Shit, he guesses he should try and eat whatever’s in his fridge before it goes bad.
It seems like everyone else has a similar idea, because after he grabs his frozen bagel bites, heading into the common room to use the microwave, he sees that it’s packed with people. Everyone on his floor seems to be there, and most have brought food with them. Someone’s passing around spoons and tubs of ice cream; another person brought a few bags of Doritos to share, which are definitely not a perishable item, but whatever, Dave won’t complain about free Doritos. A couple people are surreptitiously passing bottles around, and holy shit, where did his floormates get all this liquor? He’s pretty sure all of them are underage by, like, several years.
The R.A. takes one look at the party quickly forming in the common room and sighs, turning around and heading back into their room. Oh, so it’s gonna be that kind of night. Dave grins.
Someone offers him a bottle of vodka and he isn’t about to refuse. He opens it up and takes a sip. Ugh, so fucking gross. He snags a bag of Doritos, and then his eyes land on Karkat across the room. He smirks, because he’s never seen anyone look so goddamn uncomfortable in a beanbag chair before. Karkat looks so grumpy and cute, and it’s making it a little hard for Dave to breathe. He saunters over and takes the beanbag next to Karkat.
“Hey, ‘Kat, some party huh?” Dave says, taking a too-large swig from his bottle and coughing violently. When he’s able to speak again, he croaks out, “Hope you weren’t planning on getting any work done tonight.”
So smooth. God, he’s fucked.
Karkat’s college experience thus far is turning out better than he could have ever imagined. High school fucking sucked, but college is so much better. Most of the people here seem like they actually want to learn, for one thing, and obsessive popularity is a thing of the past. And he has real, actual friends here. Who actually like him, for some reason.
One of these people is Sollux, who is a fucking asshole on a good day, which is probably why they get along. He stays in the room directly across from Karkat and his roommate is Dave Strider, which is a Problem.
Because Dave is hot. He’s tall and lithe, with freckles splattered across his skin, only disappearing under mysterious scars. Karkat thinks he’s a douche at first, because he keeps a poker face and wears sunglasses indoors, but it turns out he’s got sensitive as fuck eyes. And the first time Karkat sees him smile... that's it, it’s over.
Dave isn’t into him, though, and Karkat refuses to be a creep about this. So he bundles his feelings up and pushes them so far down he almost forgets about them, most of the time. He hangs out with Dave in their shared friend group, and very occasionally one-on-one, and it’s fine.
A couple months pass, and Karkat gets over it. It’s not the first time he’s gotten a crush on a boy who’s out of his league and it won’t be the last. It’s not the end of the world.
Then one day out of nowhere Dave starts acting weird. Karkat thinks it might just be a fluke, but it continues for weeks. He doesn’t know what’s going on and it’s not obvious enough to call him out on it, but Karkat is kind of concerned.
He thinks Dave might be pissed at him, because he avoids looking at him and talking to him sometimes. But others he’ll go out of his way to strike up a conversation and Karkat isn’t sure what to make of it. He might be being paranoid, but he sometimes feels like Dave is staring at him when he isn’t looking.
He thinks that Dave might have found out about his crush, but even if he did, why would he care? It’s over now anyway, and he knows Dave isn’t homophobic. His brother and sister are both gay as fuck, and he talks about how fucking bisexual he is all the damn time.
But whatever. Dave will either confront him or he won’t. And Karkat has other things to contend with in the meantime.
College, while exponentially better than high school, is still stressful as fuck. Karkat is taking one too many classes this semester and has to juggle them while still looking after his idiot friends.
He’s slamming an energy drink at 8pm and clacking out an essay. It might be incomprehensible gibberish for all he knows, but it’s due at midnight and he completely forgot about it until half an hour ago.
Then the power goes out and, with it, Karkat’s hope for a good grade.
“FUCK!” he yells, burying his hands in his hair. Why does this shit always happen to him?
He takes a breath and tries to calm down. His professor might give him an extension if he begs. It’s worth a shot, in any case.
He stands and makes his way to the common room for lack of anything else to do. Everyone else had the same idea, and Karkat finds himself jostled into a beanbag chair. He slumps into it and tries not to think about how undoubtedly unflattering he must look in it.
Then Dave is plopping down into the beanbag beside him, taking a swig of vodka and coughing like he’s never tasted it before. Karkat rolls his eyes.
“I’ve accepted my fate, Strider,” he says, crossing his arms. He’s not pouting, he’s not. “The universe has decided my essay goes unfinished.”
He looks Dave over. He’s a little flushed, and grinning, and Karkat reaches out and snags the vodka from him. He takes a swig; it burns going down, but he’s had worse. He passes the bottle back and sinks further into the stupid squishy beanbag.
“Were you in the middle of anything important?” he asks.
“Nah,” Dave says, swirling the bottle around carelessly. “Not that I don’t have shit I should be workin’ on, or anything, cause oh boy do I. I’ve just been too busy tryin’ to amass an impressive Twitter following. Gotta retweet only the choicest anime titty gifs for my discerning followers.”
He takes another swig, a little smoother this time, thank god, then he stuffs the vodka bottle between his legs to hold it upright so it won’t spill. He opens his Doritos and grabs a handful, stuffing them in his face and moaning happily, licking the cheesy dust off his fingers.
As an afterthought, he waves the bag under Karkat’s nose as an offering.
“Wan’ some?” he asks with his mouth full.
There are times when Karkat can tell if Dave is joking and this is not one of them. He absolutely would not put it past him to have such a twitter. He watches Dave shove doritos in his mouth like he’s starving and valiantly ignores the moan he lets out. He absolutely does not stare as Dave licks his fingers like any speck of gross cheese dust would be a waste.
“Uh…” Karkat says. He focuses on the half chewed food very visible when Dave talks and wrinkles his nose. He can’t believe he used to like him. “No, I’m good.”
He leans back in his beanbag. “You probably need it more than me anyway. You’re such a fucking lightweight.”
He stretches and his shoulders pop. “I’m not holding your hair back if you puke.”
He has no doubt that, if Dave ends up puking, he will indeed be right there holding his hair back, or whatever the short-haired version of that is. Rubbing his back? Whatever. It won’t be the first time Karkat’s taken care of one of his drunken friends.
God, Karkat’s so fucking cute. He stretches and the hem of his shirt lifts up, and Dave’s never been more glad to have his eyes hidden because he couldn’t look away if his life depended on it.
“You mean, when I puke.” Dave points two cheese-dust-tipped finger guns at Karkat, winking behind his shades. “Can already tell ‘s probably gonna be that kinda night. Look’it how much booze these assholes on our floor brought by, can you believe it? Someone just handed me this fuckin’ bottle for free, what the fuck.”
He takes another sip and hands the vodka back to Karkat, because he’s already starting to get a little spinny. His hand brushes against Karkat’s and he flushes; his poker face is absolutely trashed already--though it usually is around Karkat anyway, he’ll admit.
“You been on any dates lately?” he asks, out of the fucking blue like a tool. “Uh, I just mean-- I know last time we talked you were trying out Hinge, did you meet anybody through it yet?”
Dave’s stupid fucking finger guns are too endearing, what the fuck. He takes the bottle back and takes another big swig; it takes a decent amount to get him drunk. Dave’s face is a little pink when he brings the bottle back down and fuck, he’s really attractive. Karkat can admit that without having feelings for the guy.
“Oh, uh,” Karkat says, taken off guard. “I went on a couple dates, yeah. They were all shit, unsurprisingly. I fucking hate dating apps.”
He’d been on exactly two dates before deleting the app. The first turned out to just want a hookup--which, look, okay, Karkat isn’t exactly opposed to that, but the romantic part of him balks at the idea. And the romantic part of him is the majority, so it typically wins.
The second guy had been… okay. He wasn’t bad, but he was bland, and Karkat wants more than that. It didn’t help that Karkat had been in a particularly ranty mood, either. He can never keep his fucking mouth shut, apparently.
“God this vodka is fucking vile,” he says after taking another drink. “What about you, though? Anyone you’re interested in?”
If he sounds casual and disinterested it’s because he is. He totally is.
Dave isn’t prepared for the surge of jealousy he feels when Karkat mentions going on a couple dates. He almost sighs in relief when Karkat says they were shitty. Which is so fucking awful of him, seriously, he should be happy for his friend. Just because he’d like to be dating him instead, doesn’t mean he’s allowed to get all pissy if Karkat finds someone else, someone who he’s actually interested in.
Because seriously, there is no fucking way in hell Karkat likes Dave back. Karkat’s into classic romance and like, grand gestures and shit, and Dave is… fucking pointing finger guns at him and talking about anime tits. As much as he wishes he could be Karkat’s type, he knows it’s no use. He’s just Like This, and that’s the way it is. It’s okay, though, he can just keep admiring Karkat from afar, jerking off to thoughts of his beautiful ass, daydreaming about kissing him… Yeah, he’s fine. It’s fine. Everything is fucking great.
Oh, right. Usually when you ask someone a question, they ask you back. Shit. Dave did not have an answer prepared for this.
“Uh, I guess there’s one guy,” he hedges. “But he’s definitely not into me, so. ‘S okay, though, it’d be wrong to tie this--” he gestures at himself “--down to one man anyway. The Strider swagger deserves to be shared around like spinach dip at a hot moms’ book club.”
Karkat’s stomach drops to his feet when Dave says he’s interested in someone and he mentally berates himself. He’s supposed to be over this. Dave made it really fucking clear right at the beginning that someone like Karkat isn’t his type, and that’s fine.
“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. He thinks the alcohol might finally be getting to him, which is fucking fantastic considering the turn this conversation has taken. “Think of all the hearts you’d be breaking when you announced that you’re finally off the market. The streets would flood with tears of weeping men and women both. We’d have to invest in gondolas, and where the fuck are we supposed to get an abundance of those?”
Okay yeah, the vodka is definitely affecting him now. What the fuck is he even talking about? Oh, right, Dave being interested in someone.
“You sure he doesn’t like you back though?” He asks. Not that he wants this mystery guy to return Dave’s affections, but… “With the way you brag, you’d think you could sweep anyone off their feet.”
Dave grins, even as he’s moping over his depressing love life, because fuck, Karkat is adorable, rambling away like that. Dave really likes him. God dammit. Cute, hot, sweet and funny, what can’t he do?
The fairly small amount of alcohol Dave’s had is making him sloppy, and he flops back in his beanbag, staring up at the ceiling and running his hands through his hair.
“Yeah, pretty fuckin’ sure,” he admits. “I’m just really not his type, is all. Also, it may shock you to hear that although I talk a big game, I don’t usually score. Shit, it’s been a good few months since I’ve gotten any action at all. Like I said, it’s probably all the long hours I put into my Twitter career, I don’t have any time left for handing out free tickets to the Strider Ride to everyone on campus.”
Why is he telling Karkat this? Who knows. Not like he’s got any kind of reputation to uphold with him, he guesses, Karkat already knows he’s a walking disaster. That’s another thing he likes about the guy, the fact that he can just be himself around him, and not worry about like, trying to front or anything. Karkat likes him for who he is. As a friend, of course.
Dave sighs audibly.
“Know what sucks? Being single. Being single fuckin’ sucks.”
He sits up again and grabs the bottle from Karkat. He’s probably overdoing it, but, fuck it. He tilts the bottle and takes another swallow of this barely-better-than-rat-poison swill. It doesn’t have to taste good as long as it does the job, right?
Karkat watches, concerned, as Dave takes another drink. He’s seen Dave drink before and he can get absolutely trashed on so little alcohol it’s frankly amazing. He reaches out and takes the bottle, setting it aside for now.
“Maybe take it easy, lightweight,” he says. “The vodka isn’t going anywhere and we’ve got all night, apparently.”
He glances around the room. People have started to get settled in, taking up places on the couches and spilling out onto the floor. He thinks there might be a drinking game going on. The common room has emptied out a bit, with people returning to their own rooms. He doubts the power will come back on until morning, at least.
He should probably head back to his room and get some sleep; he has a class in the morning. But when he looks back at Dave, with his pink face and morose expression, he thinks fuck it. He can miss a single class.
“Fuck being single,” he agrees. “But good for you, taking one for the fuckin team. God forbid your masses of twitter followers not see their daily dose of anime tiddies. Who knows what they’d do without it?”
He doesn’t know what he’s saying. His head is starting to feel pleasantly fuzzy and he just wants Dave to smile at him again.
Dave lets Karkat take his bottle away with a pout. It’s probably for the best, considering he’s already way past tipsy and settling into drunk-town.
He grabs his plate of bagel bites, which he’d forgotten in favor of the booze and Doritos. Mmmm. Delicious microwaved fake mini-pizzas. Whoever came up with the idea of combining pizza and bagels was, frankly, a motherfucking genius. Dave thinks he might be saying some of this out loud, through mouthfuls of cheesy bagel-y goodness. Normally he’s embarrassed to be caught mumbling about shit, but he does it around Karkat so often that he can’t bring himself to care anymore.
He grins at Karkat’s comments. “Yeah, I’m fuckin’ doin’ god’s work out here, givin’ the people what they need. What they deserve. ‘S worth it, even if it means I gotta spend every night with my own left hand.”
He mimes jerking off, in case Karkat didn’t get the joke. Yeah, he might be pretty significantly drunk now.
Karkat will deny it to his dying day but he giggles when Dave makes the jerkoff motion with his hand. Dave’s smiling at him again, even if it is through a mouthful of half-chewed pizza. Karkat snags one for himself and pops it in his mouth. It’s not too awful.
He washes it down with another swig of vodka, which is tasting much less vile right about now. He sticks his tongue out at Dave when he’s done, putting the bottle back out of his reach. Dave takes another bite of his tiny pizzas and mumbles.... Something. Karkat doesn’t catch it, but it’s probably stupid.
He leans over--which is a feat, considering this fucking beanbag chair seems to be trying to eat him whole--and covers Dave’s mouth with his hand.
“I swear to god if you don’t stop talking with your mouth full I’m gonna sew it shut,” he says. He pulls his hand back before Dave can do something stupid like lick it. Karkat wouldn’t be able to survive that.
…
Because it’s gross. Yeah. That, and no other reason.
Dave watches Karkat drink down some more vodka, unable to take his eyes off his throat bobbing and swallowing. Fuck. He always forgets how alcohol makes him extra horny, god dammit. That’s really not what he needs right now. Karkat sticking his tongue out at him does not help the problem, and Dave shifts in his beanbag, hoping his half-chub isn’t visibly broadcasting his interest to Karkat and the entire rest of the room.
He must have been mumbling, because Karkat claps a hand over his mouth and threatens him for talking with his mouth full. Karkat’s palm is warm against his mouth, and he can smell his soapy clean Karkat-y smell. Dave considers licking his hand, but Karkat moves it away before he can do it.
He swallows his mouthful of food and sticks his tongue right back out at Karkat instead. Two can play at being immature children.
Dave polishes off the rest of his bagel bites, feeling a little better with the food in his stomach. Still solidly drunk, but less dizzy and light-headed. He sets his plate aside. What to do now… His feet and hands are restless, tapping at the ground and at his sides.
“I’m bored, Karkat,” he whines, stretching out his long legs and plopping them in Karkat’s lap, completely ignoring any concept of personal space. “Entertain meeeee.”
Dave’s legs are miles long and that’s only highlighted when he stretches them across the space between them. His legs are warm on Karkat’s lap and Karkat’s hands find their way to his calves instinctively.
“And what exactly do you expect me to do?” he asks. He thinks he might be slurring just a little bit. “Is my sparkling personality not enough for your ADD? I could tell you about the latest novel I'm reading, but the romance might make you spew.”
He might be being a bit too snarky. Dave’s thin legs are warm and solid beneath his hands and it’s weirdly grounding. He shoots Dave a grin, suddenly glad the power went out. He and Dave very rarely ever hang out one on one.
Karkat’s hands on his legs are warm and cozy, he’s full and drunk and content.
“I must be pretty drunk or bored ‘cus that actually sounds appealing. Go ahead, tell me all about it, I’m listening.” He gives Karkat an encouraging smile.
Being given permission, Karkat goes off about the romance novel for the next twenty minutes or so. Then Dave talks his ear off about the movie he watched a couple nights ago. At some point Dave gets up to piss and comes back with a notebook and pen he finds abandoned in the hallway, and they end up giggling and drawing dicks all over it. Karkat makes Dave drink some water, and Dave teases him for being such a mom friend.
It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long, but the next time Dave looks up around the room, it’s nearly empty. There’s a guy passed out on one of the couches, but everyone else seems to have gone back to their rooms.
Dave checks his phone, it’s almost 2 am. Holy shit, when did that happen?
“Dude, it’s so late,” he laughs, showing Karkat the time. “Hey, wanna go up on the roof? I’ve been up there a couple times in the middle of the night, and it’s actually got a really sick view of the city.”