Dave Strider's hands were in his hair, and he didn't know how to feel about it. Or Dave's lips on his neck. Or Dave's lips on his lips. He had been the one to seek Dave out, and in fact had initiated this… closeness, but- As usual, Karkat didn't know what he wanted.
Dave, sensing his trepidation, broke the contact and leaned away to examine him from behind his slightly-askew cool kid glasses. With his fingers still knotted in the curls between his horns, Dave graced him with an impassive frown.
"What." Karkat snapped, returning a far-from-impassive toothy scowl. More of a pout, really.
Dave let go of him, gave a melodramatic sigh, and flopped back down on his bed.
"I dunno, Kat. You tell me," he said, limply twirling his hand in a vague gesture of mostly nothing. "Here we are, chewing on each other's faces, it's all good. You grab a handful of sweet Strider ass, everything's fine. But the second I touch you, you get all…"
Karkat's scowl intensified, causing his eyes to squint into a grimace. It didn't take a nose like Terezi's to smell Strider-brand pontificating a universe away, and just now they happened to be… significantly closer.
"For fuck's sake, impale me through the think pan and spare me. What are you on about now?"
Dave continued idly twirling his finger, the symbolic loading icon of his search for words.
"Mmh," he said succinctly. Then, "It's hard to put a finger on it."
He poked Karkat in the chest, sitting up to do so. Then he leaned in closer, pressing his palm to Karkat's chest and sliding it slowly down his stomach before bundling into a fistful of his sweater. "Easier to come to grips with, to be honest."
"Shut the fuck up," Karkat said, visibly squirming. "You did not just do a pun at me. I didn't come here for puns."
"First off, comes with the package," said Dave, "and yeah, I know. You came for The Package. But like, what, are you gonna unwrap it and play with it and leave me here all, wow, I thought it was Troll Christmas, turns out it's just Troll Karkat-Pump-and-Dumps-Alien-Eye-Candy-Without-Remorse-or-Reciprocation Day."
"What the actual fuck are you talking about?" said Karkat, but his eyes kept darting down to Dave's hand in his shirt. His stomach ached in a mildly unpleasant manner and he almost wanted to demand Dave unhand him. But he had a point, that the point was to hand him, or whatever.
"I think your exact wording was, an expressed interest in 'continued exploration in the details of the human act of mating.' Which I took to mean some old fashioned fooling around- not that there's anything old fashioned about alien bumming. But if you're just lookin' to play some kinky game of inspector body parts, I'm not sure I'm down with that. I'm an alien to you too, you know. The anal probing goes both ways."
"What the fuck is anal probing?" Karkat said impatiently.
"Anyway, what I'm saying is," said Dave, putting his other hand on Karkat's shoulder, "Are you okay? Am I making you uncomfortable?"
"Yes," said Karkat, shifting awkwardly. "No, I mean."
"Do you want to stop?"
"Fuck no," Karkat said quickly. For once in his life, a tirade was not easily forthcoming, and for once in Dave's life he seemed to recognize a pause for thought was not an invitation for commentary.
"Okay," Karkat said at last, "Here's the thing."
"Shit yeah, the thing," said Dave.
"Shut up." Karkat rolled his tongue nervously in his mouth, knowing full well each millisecond of mulling was a fresh opportunity for a fresh remark. "The thing is," Karkat took a breath. "As an aficionado of romantic culture, I've taken it upon myself to become familiar with the many intricacies of your human erotica. However it occurs to me that outside of our flirting with the idea of my verbal take on Trollian literature, you have had no opportunity to do the same."
"You're upset I haven't seen any troll porn?" Dave said, completely unfazed by the rest of his admission.
"Ugh, stop taking everything I say and making it stupid!" Karkat mumbled loudly. "The point is, Dave, we have very different anatomy!"
"No shit," said Dave.
"Yes shit!" said Karkat, jerking away from him and folding his arms across his chest.
Dave frowned thoughtfully.
"It's okay," he said slowly, "to feel nervous about sharing your body with someone. Hell, I…"
Karkat looked at him over his shoulder, his bravado of petulance dissolving into curiosity. More than his physical explorations, this was the mystery he longed to unearth. The Dave Strider that was unsure. The Dave Strider who allowed that callous expression to slip up. He'd caught glimpses of that Dave, like tantalizing visions pulled from Skaia's clouds, but sometimes he doubted Dave could ever trust him enough to let his guard down. Hell, sometimes he doubted if he even knew how.
"Shit, if anything I should be the self-conscious one," said Dave, "Seeing as you've seen untold hours of porn star bods to compare me to. You could be covered in freakish pulsating genital warts and explain it away with a 'yeah, it's supposed to look like that.'"
Karkat looked unconvinced, but secretly relished this tidbit of information. Visibly he relaxed, shoulders slumping. His whole body seemed to sink into his sweater. Dave wriggled up next to him and nestled his chin in the hollow of Karkat's shoulder, with his cheek touching the point of his ear.
"We'll go slow, and you can say stop if you're freaked or bored or nauseated by my pulsating genital warts," Dave whispered seductively.
"Just fucking kiss me," Karkat said, before turning to press his mouth to Dave's. Dave responded eagerly, slipping back into what had so quickly become his casual indulgence. What would he have said, had he seen this coming a year or two ago? What would the Dave of the past have to say about his delight in marring his lips on Karkat's fangs? Perhaps he wouldn't have been so surprised.
Cautiously, Dave let his hands slide gingerly beneath the folds of cloth, tracing the lines and curves of Karkat's abdomen. Other than the obvious lack of a navel, it wasn't so different from his own.
"Take your shirt off," Karkat whispered, loud enough for the entire meteor to hear.
"So bossy, Mr. Vantas," Dave teased, but he obliged without further complaint, taking his hands away to first pull the cape and cowl up over his head, followed by the matching shirt. The paleness of his skin was severe in contrast to Karkat's dark sweater.
"Um," Karkat said articulately. He brashly and without hesitation put his quivering hands on Dave's bare hips. He thought, human skin was impossibly softer than a Troll's, even the women. Or maybe it was only Dave's skin under Karkat's fingers that so longed to touch it.
Dave fought the urge to shiver and held his composure wholly and completely, giving no sign that maybe he was as equally flustered. Except that he couldn't seem to catch his breath, and it felt like Karkat's eyes were all over him, consuming him no matter where he looked.
Dave let out a slow breath and then caught Karkat's lips between his own again. Something to give him rhythm to fall back on, instead of the unreliable stutter of his pounding heart. Again his hands slid under Karkat's sweater, this time lifting the hem to reveal mottled grey skin and the faint outline of what resembled rib bones. They parted only to allow the now superfluous garment to be dropped off the edge of the bed and forgotten.
Suddenly Dave stopped, his wandering hands finding abnormality in the line of Karkat's shoulder blade. He traced it with his fingertips, three jagged lines from near his spine, all the way up over his left shoulder. Karkat opened his eyes and met Dave's through the wall of tinted glass.
"What."
Dave leaned back, taking in Karkat's naked torso for the first time, and his heart sank. Maybe he should have expected this, knowing how Alternian culture was. Why was he so shocked? Why did it make his skin crawl to see the latticework of scars that crisscrossed Karkat's frame?
"What?" Karkat whined, becoming exponentially more self-conscious with each passing second. He crossed his arms over his chest, which lacked the wrinkly flesh nubs present on Dave's that male humans had despite serving no function in the production of milk for human wigglers.
Wordlessly, Dave dipped his head to Karkat's shoulder and pressed his lips against the mass of scar tissue. Karkat caught his eyes directly this time, looking down from above as his glasses sat askew on his nose. The look unnerved him even more than the silence. Dave's arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a hug, bare skin pressed against his back. Karkat wriggled in his grip, and immediately Dave's arms fell away.
"What about you, Dave?" Karkat asked awkwardly. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," came Dave's automatic response.
"So no," said Karkat. Dave pressed his glasses back up his nose to escape the Troll's searching gaze. "Wow, look at that. Woopty fuckin' shit, I can be pompous and presumptuous about noticing the unsubtle shifts in your hard-ass façade, too."
Dave's pursed lips turned into a frown, and then suddenly, he started to laugh. The tightly wound tension in Karkat's shoulders eased unconsciously and despite himself.
"Oh shit, you caught me," Dave said, throwing up his hands. "I am found out, the jig is up, I have the feelings and am experiencing an emotion."
"So just tell me about it, then," said Karkat. "You're freaking me out being all silent and emotive."
Dave sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture that Karkat was becoming increasingly fond of, leaving it sticking up haphazardly.
"So are we talking about feelings then? Cuz that doesn't exactly set the mood for me."
"Fuck the mood." Karkat reached out to smooth Dave's hair back into place. "This meteor's not getting any faster."
"Alright," said Dave. His hand lifted to ruffle his hair again, but he caught himself and rubbed his arm instead. "You've got a lot of scars, is all."
Karkat narrowed his eyes and raised his eyebrows pointedly. "So do you?"
"Yeah," said Dave impassively.
"Wait," said Karkat, as something clicked in his head. "Those don't even look like battle scars, and anyway, didn't you get a brand new, mint condition god tier body?"
"Bro, rude, bro," Dave said, holding up a hand. "A bro does not ask another bro about a bro's scars, unless they're wicked gnarly shark bites or something else with an obviously hella cool story."
"So they happened here," said Karkat, ignoring him. "From…"
"From myself, okay?" Dave said bluntly. "Sometimes fucked up humans internalize their problems and cope with it in harmful ways. Talk to Rose for the psychoanalytical whatever bullshit version, she's all over that biz."
"Oh." Karkat eyed the crosshatch of lines that covered both of Dave's shoulders and forearms. An image came to him with sickening ease, of Dave's own shaking hands carving those lines in stark red on alabaster white. For all their differences, it was the similarities hidden just beneath the surface that always struck him hardest. They made him yearn to know what it was that Dave had, and he did not. That he could be so similar, and remain… Karkat searched for a word. 'Appealing,' was the best that he could scratch out of distracted thought.
"Anyway," Dave said sheepishly, desperate for a change of subject.
"Yeah, well…" Karkat said. His fingertips worried the crease of an older scar across his chest. It had come from an encounter with the Lusus of some poor, culled wiggler that had gone on rampage. He'd gotten the bright idea to dispense of it himself, despite not being far from the pupa and exceptionally lacking in experience. Because that's what trolls were supposed to do, stake out battles, overcome impossible odds. When you hated everything you were, you fought to prove your worth. Your wounds were deserved, and your scars served as reminders of both your accomplishments and your failures.
Karkat turned to face Dave again, and he bent to press his lips to Dave's shoulder in turn.
"Sometimes," he said, straightening up. He could feel the flush of color burning in his ears and cheeks. "Fucked up trolls- read, all of them- do that, too. Different ways, maybe. You're not so special, Strider."
And then, emboldened by his own daring, he reached slowly for Dave's glasses. He fully expected him to stop him, as he had in the past, but instead Dave let him slide them off his nose and neatly fold them away.
A Dave without his glasses was far nakeder than a Dave without his shirt. A Dave in nothing but those shades was probably less obscene. It felt like that to both of them, it seemed. Karkat cherished the seconds like he was taking in a work of art, to see those eyes unobscured. Red. The color of the shame that stained his face. The color that marked his weaknesses, his mistakes, the color that made him different from everyone he had ever known. Seeing it in Dave's eyes was the first time he had loved that color, instead of hating it with the whole of his being. Loving Dave, loving even the aspects that he loathed in himself, was the first time he had loved himself a little, too.
Dave kissed him, and he felt safe. Karkat hissed him back, and Dave felt like he was lost, like they were floating or falling together somewhere far away from all this, with no looming ultimatum, no histories to tie them down. Karkat's acceptance was a relief from all his fears, about himself, about the world. Not forever, but just for a little while. That solace was worth more than he could ever put into words. As much as they tried to play it off as casual, they were both getting into this a little too deep.
Not that they'd ever admit it.
They lay in a heap of tangled limbs, cheek to cheek and chest to chest. Silent for a little while, save the quiet sighs of their breath and the occasional peck of lips on skin.
"Karkat?" Dave asked quietly, breaking the still air.
"What, Dave," Karkat mumbled. He braced himself for another onslaught of dumb Strider words, but that wasn't what came. What he heard was a plea, containing weakness that he'd never suspected from Dave, of all people.
"Can we just… stay like this, for a little while? Like, instead of sleeping with me, could you maybe…. Sleep with me?"
A bemused smirk graced Karkat's face, and he nuzzled his forehead into the crook of Dave's neck. Dave returned the gesture, burying his face in Karkat's hair.
"Of course, you nerd," said Karkat sleepily.
Dave groped with one arm for the blanket which had been kicked on the floor earlier, and lazily draped it over them. He closed his eyes and thought, maybe tonight. Maybe tonight there would be no more nightmares.
"Thank you," Dave whispered.
There was no response. Karkat was out like a light.
"And for you, too," Dave continued, voice low as to not wake him, "Sweet dreams."