Dirk lay in his bed, unable to sleep. It wasn't as if he didn't try, his body just wanted to function, that was all. It knew that it was made for building and working and exerting, and fuck if it wasn't going to indulge in that to the point of exhaustion. But it did have its drawbacks. He'd be laying there, begging for sleep. Mentally drained and praying for a wink at least. His body would simply fidget. Come on, it whispered in the form of stretches, in tosses and turns. You know what we haven't done in a while? Gone for a run in the middle of the damn night.
It might be tomorrow's importance. He was never one to get agitated under thoughts of pressure. This wasn't a project he'd be getting paid for. This wasn't a competition he was entering to win. Nothing that would involve skill or prowess or even cunning. Those were easy and this was different, requiring nothing more than simple instinct.
He needed a roommate. His bro cut his funds to just enough to pay half the rent and buy groceries. Being a shut-in meant he got little to no interaction with the outside world. That would prove disadvantageous for survival in the concrete jungle; and he had no plans of involving his boyfriend in this. Karkat loved Dirk to pieces, even if he didn't say it that often, but he wasn't comfortable sharing an apartment. Not yet. Boundaries they were both more than okay with. But the Strider still need another half of the rent.
Tomorrow he was meeting with this one guy he hoped wouldn't shirk when pulling their combined weight. However, there were a few things on his mind that kept him awake, along with the fact that his heart was in the mood for jumping jacks. There was no shame with being in a relationship with someone of the same gender. But the fact that the sheer number of assholes who couldn't overlook that (and hated him for simply loving someone) greatly outweighed the ones who could... Terrified him. The odds of finding somebody who accepted his unlabeled orientation and proved to be grade-A roommate material were slim to nil.
With an audible groan, Dirk sat up and tossed his legs over the side of the mattress. His muscles ached from laying in one spot, and stretching helped very little. He might as well just walk around. The habit of checking his phone didn't occur to him until he was rubbing his eyes to discipate the brightness of his screen. Fuck, he needed to remember to fix that before bed. Two new messages, both from the same person.
10:48, CG: You have a big day tomorrow. We both do. Go the fuck to sleep.
2:12, CG: Tell me you went to sleep.
The second one wasn't a check-up to ensure he'd gone to bed. It was an inquiry about if he was awake. Karkat often masked his loneliness, or boredom or whatever, behind a question that usually meant the opposite. Anyone else asking this question would be content with silence, as no answer would mean yes, he'd gone to sleep. Shouty here wanted an answer.
2:31, TT: Nope. I decided to chance the reverse smokey-eye and not get any winks. It might be a good look for me.
It didn't take long for a response to happen. It was angry, with the subtle hint of relief as Dirk expected.
CG: I told you to get your ass some shut-eye. You'll be sorry tomorrow when you look like death warmed over.
TT: My hair will still be perfect.
CG: Do you even have any hair left? Or is it all just gel by now?
TT: Excuse you, every bit of this upward posterior wisp is natural. Water and a comb.
TT: And sometimes hairspray.
CG: Fuckin' liar.
TT: I understand you love me, and only wish for my well-being to be the toppest of notches.
CG: How about I take those notches and shove them up your ass?
TT: But
TT: You also have an engagement tomorrow. What the hell are YOU doing awake?
CG: Can't sleep.
TT: You'll do fine.
CG: I'm not nervous.
TT: Of course you aren't.
CG: Shut up.
TT: Have you been studying? Or just sitting there in a puddle of your own self-depreciation.
CG: The latter makes it harder for the former to happen much.
TT: I see.
TT: Thirsty?
CG: It's close to three in the ass-humping morning and you're asking if I want to suck you off?
TT: Not what I meant.
CG: ...Oh.
CG: I can't be hungover for the test.
TT: Err. Strike two.
CG: Then what the hell are you getting at?
TT: Coffee.
When he didn't get an immediate response, Dirk took that as the other had fallen asleep or something. At least he hoped that's what happened. Karkat got nervous about damn near everything that could potentially fuck up his future, allowing it to silently fester inside of him. And failing his midterms due to inadequacy fit very snugly into that category. They sometimes studied together, though that was pretty much a last resort since they both can't very well keep their hands to themselves. But Dirk would do just about anything else in his power to keep his boyfriend's equilibrium intact.
CG: That's a horrible idea.
TT: Pick you up in ten?
CG: Fuck no.
TT: Already have my jacket on.
CG: You're wasting your time.
TT: I'm getting coffee regardless of your acceptance or denial. I'm offering to get you some.
TT: Last chance.
CG: Can I get hot cocoa instead?
TT: Cost you extra.
CG: Sounds great.
Karkat hated public displays of affection. So in all honesty, Dirk was going to keep his hands to himself whether he liked it or not. However, in the driveway of the Vantas house was fair-game. A lot of action went down in the driveway, to be honest. But today, it was far too cold and far too late for them to do anything intimate. So they stole a few kisses and went on their way to their favorite late-night hangout.
-X-
"I told you I was paying this time," Karkat snapped as he took Dirk's wallet away.
The owner of the wallet snatched it back and removed his credit card. "Don't worry about it. Besides, when you ace that test tomorrow, you'll need your money to celebrate." The way he twirled his card made him seem like a douche. He was a douche. A douche who wore sunglasses at night and a smirk he had no right to bear.
The shorter boy tipped his head forward to make him look incredibly innocent, as well as incredibly sexy. "I think you mean..." He trailed off and toyed his lip between his teeth. It distracted Dirk long enough for him to pull some money from his back pocket and hand it to the barista. "When I ace the test, I'll need your money to celebrate."
The blond shook his head and chuckled. He touched his nose to his boyfriend's, whose own wrinkled in response. "If I'm in charge of the celebration, all we'll need is a bottle of wine. And maybe a couple of hours to kill." It was only when a faint kiss was ghosted across Karkat's lips that they noticed the disgusted looks from the girl behind the register.
"And what the festering, diseased, dick-fondling fuck is your malfunction?"
The worker seemed shocked that she'd been spoken to in such a manner. "Nothing. I just don't want my queue being corrupted by... that."
Karkat looked all around the immediate vicinity histrionically. "I see nobody we could be inconveniencing. Nobody's even lost their arm yet, due to the powerful homoromantic affection. But someone might if they don't give me my change and drink order within the next five minutes."
With a scowl, she shoved the money to the other side of the counter and set to work on the drinks. Dirk could see right through her. 'Fuckin' gays,' that's what she was thinking. He was hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion and dejection. It only reminded him of what he might encounter tomorrow. This girl, with a different face, sneering at him. 'You seem like a nice guy, but I don't think I want to room with a fag.'
"Hey." Karkat's face was softer now as he grabbed Dirk's hand. "You alright?"
"Do I have a reason not to be?" The Strider didn't pull his hand away, but didn't really squeeze back, either.
"Just ignore her; that wet blanket isn't worth your energy depletion."
You're just saying that so I'll have more energy for you later. He should've said that. He would've said that. But he couldn't bring himself to say it. All because of the hateful eyes of their server boring into the back of his head. "I'm alright."
The dark-haired boy jutted out his lip in suspicion, but said nothing as they waited for their orders. The girl working the machines kept glaring at them, but also kept her mouth shut. She looked as though she were seething. How long does it take to make a latte and a cocoa? Evidently, twice as long when you're working slow out of spite. When the drinks were ready, Dirk made sure to thank her.
"Don't give that shitsponge your courtesy," he hissed as he was dragged to their spot. They sat on one side of the booth.
"I've learned to live with it. If you retaliate with anger, that'll only enforce their opinion." Taking a sip, he slid his hand down to rest on his boyfriend's knee. Instead of shoving it away, the gesture made the other scoot closer. Karkat was being awfully liberal tonight with the affection he'd allow. "Though that's not what's on your mind."
He laid his head on Dirk's shoulder. "Just tired. And angry."
"And nervous."
"...And nervous, yeah."
"And scared."
"Am not, fuck you. What would I be scared about." It wasn't a question.
"Hell if I know. Angry at the bitch behind the counter. Nervous about your midterms. Scared about... Something. I can see it."
"Don't act like you can read my mind." He turned so his face was hidden by the shoulder he was laying on.
"Maybe not your mind. But I do know what you're feeling. I just don't know why."
Finally taking the first sip of his cocoa, Karkat spat out, "Drop it."
The two of them sat in silence, one of them sipping idly, and the other practically dismissing his drink altogether. There was something not being said. Dirk wanted an answer, but wasn't about to piss his boyfriend off by prying. He'd say something when he was ready. In the mean time, he'd just knead his fingertips into the meat of the other's thigh. It was something they both liked.
After fifteen minutes of uneasy taciturnity, the cocoa was slammed on the table. Some of the now-cold beverage sloshed out of the cup. "Babe, what the fu-" Dark, mahogany eyes snapped up and locked onto bright, amber ones (or attempted to through the shades). "Shit, sorry, I forgot you hate that. But honestly, what are you doing just throwing your damn cup around?"
Instead of answering, Karkat just migrated a hand to either side of the Strider's square jaw. It was impossible to get a read on his face, other than his eyes being sad. You're so gorgeous, he murmured, more to himself than to his boyfriend. And he initiated a kiss. It would've been incredibly romantic, had it not been hasty and sloppy. His lips, normally so precise, were fumbling for contact. Strider tried to pull back gently, but found himself unable to. The hands on his chin were suctioned in place.
"Karkat..."
"No," he whined. His black hair fell over his eyes and some was getting in the way of the kiss, but he didn't stop.
"Kar- Babe!" Dirk snapped his head away and clutched at his boyfriend's wrists. "Cool it!" They sat a moment, breathing shallowly, staring intently. "What's wrong?" he shooshed, moving on hand to shift the black hair away from obstructing the other's view.
His voice was small, vulnerable. "Kiss me, damnit."
"What's gotten into you?"
Yanking his arms back, he stood up and walked out the door they had entered without so much as a glance behind. It was almost half past three on a cold late-winter morning; there wasn't much patience left in the Strider. He just grabbed their cups and ran out after his cranky companion.