It's nearing midnight now, and you are wandering the halls of the meteor away from the communal block, dragging your feet with your hands shoved deep in your pockets and the scowl on your face strong enough to kill seven denizens.
Your name is Karkat Vantas, and your best friend has forgotten about your Wriggling Day.
You mean, sure it's not a big day for you really, you've never celebrated it before or anything. But you guess that's what hurts you most; Kanaya, Rose and Terezi all threw this huge party for you this evening and he didn't even show up. The one sweep you celebrate and he doesn't even make an effort to join in.
It's not like you haven't seen him today, either. He came out to get food earlier and his only interaction with you was asking if anyone had bothered to alchemise milk that day. They hadn't. He shrugged and left without another word.
You don't want to be hurt, but you are, so you're going to go sulk in your block.
You walk straight past the entrance to his block, hearing loud music pulsating from inside and gritting your teeth hard to stop yourself barging in there and yelling at him; instead dragging yourseld futher down and into your own block.
You walk down the connecting corridor, down a flight of stairs and round the corner to where you sleep. The door handle feels warmer than usual and you pause with your hand on the usually freezing cold metal. You open it slowly, hoping and praying nobody's been in since you woke u-
Your thoughts are cut off when you notice a figure sat on your poor-excuse-for-a-bed the humans had alchemised. He's there in his god tier pyjama bottoms and nothing else, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up from the floor to you.
He has a pile of dvds next to him.
"So I was thinking movie night." He says casually, patting the pile of what must be at least 10 freshly alchemised dvds. You can see from here they're all human movie titles.
"You-" You start, but he puts his hand up, raising the other to his chest and looking away dramatically.
"Did not forget your birthday. Just never been a fan of parties, especially ones with loud trolls I'm trying to avoid interacting with for a while."
"I'm right here."
"Not you, dumbass."
You smile, then, and he only pretends to look shocked for a moment before shuffling over on the bed to make room for you. He's set up your crabtop at the end so you could both see it. You walk over, feelings of anger already died down and tiredness threatening to set in. You won't let it, though, you've practically become a pro at not sleeping for days on end.
You sit with him and just watch. You were right, it's all human romcoms, but they're actually enjoyable - you hadn't gotten around to watching alot of them yet and Dave seems to know alot more titles than Rose did when you asked her. Dave Strider knows more about romantic movies than Rose. You file that information away for later use.
You're sat with him for what feels like forever for the first few films. Maybe, for a moment, his arm brushes yours and you sink closer to him without realising, and maybe you're a bit too warm in your jumper but too comfortable to strip down to the tshirt you're wearing underneath, but it doesn't matter.
He didn't forget.
You turn to him, about halfway through the third movie, and he's taken his shades off and set them down on the bed next to him. His eyes are half-lidded as he watches the screen. Dazed, almost. You look back forwards and lean your head on his shoulder slowly, surprised when he doesn't shrug you off.
You hold your breath, counting thirty seconds before he moves, but it's to put his arm around you, lightly tapping out a rhythm with his fingers on your shoulder. Your cheek is resting on the muscle that joins his arm to his chest and you notice his skin is colder than your own, but only by a few degrees or so.
He laughs a little, then; you feel the muscle move with the small noise and you look up to the movie to see what's going on. You guess you missed it, though; turning to him instead, only able to see some of his face from this angle without him realising you're watching him. You shuffle back a little, off his chest and more onto his arm. You don't stop looking at him. His pale features no longer covered by black semi-mirrored shades or that wall of emotionless irony he puts up. He's just Dave, now, a guy around your age watching a movie.
He catches you looking, glancing down towards you and smirking slightly, but neither of you say anything. You look back to the movie and he explains what's happened without you even having to ask. You listen halfheartedly, watching him explain rather than actually listening to the words he's saying. His voice has so much more emotion in it than you're used to, lilts and drops and a stronger accent than the monotone deadpan voice he usually has. You're not sure what your insides are doing, but you think you're happy.
He notices you're still not paying attention and sighs.
"C'mon Karkat I'm trying here, I got you shitty romcoms and a movie night with the Strider what more could you want?"
You just stare, drawing your eyebrows closer as you study the expressions he's making, the way you can see his red eyes narrowing in confusion, the way you can finally, finally read his expressions. He seems to be watching you just as you're watching him.
You look down just as he leans in, which means you're even more surprised to find he's kissing you; pulling his arm paritally from under your neck and leaning over you, his other hand on your face. He's only kissing you lightly, his fringe falling onto your forehead and mixing with your own hair, his lips pressed against yours, barely moving until you kiss him back. You raise your hands up from their place gripping the bed in surprise to holding his waist, claws digging in to the band of his godtier pyjamas before you splay your hands out on his sides. His body is awkwardly twisted over yours, his legs nowhere near you but his torso leaning right over yours at an angle. You lift a leg up, bending your knee so you can pull him over you more, like he's the heaviest blanket ever and you're just so fucking cold you can't take it. He seems to take the hint, swinging one of his legs over yours and kissing you right into the mattress.
The movie credits are playing and you kiss right through them, hands unmoving but gripping tight to his bare sides. Neither of you move to take the disk out or replace it. Movie night has been forgotten.
His lips are surprisingly soft, and his tongue is alot smoother than your own - you hope for a moment that he's not put off my the roughness of your tongue, that your teeth aren't hurting him, but then you rub your tongue against his and he moans and pushes closer and you don't really care about anything anymore. You would happily spend the rest of your life kissing Dave Strider and you can't believe you didn't realise you wanted this sooner.
He pulls away, breathless and ibeautiful/I, so close you can see the reflection of your bright eyes in his dilated pupils, "Happy Birthday, Karkat."
You kiss him again.