A/N: New story! So this is one that I've been thinking about for a while. Here's the first chapter. Hope you enjoy. Please leave favorites and reviews! -Zade

CHAPTER 1

It was 6:30 AM. Karkat knew this because the blaring alarm wouldn't shut up about it. It kept ringing and ringing and ringing and ringing at him until he threw the cursed thing against the wall. And then everything was mercifully silent again. …Until his phone alarm started ringing as well.

He groaned and picked himself up from the covers.

xXx

The shower was freezing cold because he hadn't waited for it to warm up before he jumped in, shooting icy cold bursts of water onto his skin. He cursed and jumped around as he soaped himself and washed. Then he jumped out of the shower into the still-frigid air and dried off, quickly fixing his messy brown curls into some kind of manageable, professional look.

Brushing his teeth made him mildly better-tempered. Drinking a warm cup of coffee and eating a quick breakfast—bagel and cream cheese—as he shrugged on jeans, a sweater and blazer, made him feel moderately human. And when he shoved on boots, a thick jacket, scarf and hat and headed out to face the winter weather, he felt more like himself again. Ready to start the day.

xXx

Karkat stepped into the lecture hall with a second cup of coffee in hand and a messenger bag slung along his shoulders. He trotted down the steps as a grey-haired spectacled woman looked up at him, spreading her materials out on the desk.

"One caffeinated drink to pep-start what promises to be a crappy rest of the day. Morning, Professor Silverman."

"Thank you." The Professor took the proffered drink, blowing on it before she took a sip. "Did you manage to get the film?"

"It arrived at the library last night. I hope this one's a better copy."

"We'll see when we try to play it." Students were starting to trail in behind them as they spoke, coming in with soft chatter and brief laughter. The Professor turned and muttered in his ear, "Bets on who won't last second week?"

Karkat cracked a grin. There were already fewer students than last week. This week would be the last time to drop before it affected your grade so they expected a few more to disappear before they reviewed their final class roster. Silverman was a pretty hard teacher and there were a lot who didn't like her approach.

She handed him a stack of papers. "Can you hand these out?"

By the time that Karkat passed out the papers the students had all arrived. The last had snuck in right before the class began, some kid with bright pink hair and a myriad of facial piercings, easily the most vibrant in the room. There was always one.

"Here you go. Week's syllabus and overview."

The guy grunted in response, taking the papers. He hadn't removed his sunglasses. Maybe he'd had a late night.

Professor Silverman began her introduction to the class, ordered them to read the syllabus themselves, and then had Karkat hook up the film projector so they could get started on a few brief scenes to analyze. He sat back and let her take over.

xXx

He'd just come from the library to return the film and pick up the next few shorts for next week's classes, when he saw the pink-haired kid. What was his name… Strider or something? He'd only spoken up once during class, to crack some inappropriate joke that led the conversation into a discussion on innuendo and queer sexuality markers within early films.

Karkat boarded the bus as it pulled up. He took a seat near the window and looked out again. He saw that Strider had now met up with another guy, middle-aged and beer-gutted, in a fancy business suit. They greeted one another and the middle-aged man looked around nervously, before slapping a possessive hand on Strider's shoulder. They walked off. Karkat craned his neck to see, but they took off around the corner and his bus decided to take off at that moment, denying him further view.

That wasn't… No, it couldn't have been. But it definitely didn't seem like a normal "friends" interaction and besides the guy was old enough to be his father, maybe his grandfather. And then there was the vibe. Furtive. Secret. Karkat frowned to himself, thinking on it further. But no, he was probably wrong. He was just thinking too much. He'd seen way too many movies.

Yeah, that was it. It was nothing. And even if it was something, it wasn't his business what pink-haired brats got up to in their spare time. If the guy wanted to hop a plane to Ibiza, take all the drugs he could find and dance around naked in the streets while riding a mad bull, it still wouldn't be his concern. Maybe he'd think it was a bit silly. Maybe he'd even laugh at the guy if he told him about it to his face. But as long as he got his work in on time he wouldn't care. Yeah, he was just going to ignore it.

And so ignore it he did. When he got home and settled down amongst the piles of research and papers he had lined up, he ignored it. He re-read notes, excerpts and bullet points. He didn't think about what pink-haired boys might get up to with middle-aged business men. He didn't think about how dangerous it could be. Or if he'd been coerced or blackmailed into it. Or if there was something wrong and what if Karkat was the only one who could ever help him and what if it was his responsibility to follow up and make certain that things were okay and that there was no serious threats or issues going on and—no. That would be letting his imagination go wild. Yeah. He definitely didn't think about any of that.

xXx

Dave Strider was the kid's name. He saw it on the roster next to a headshot, same pink hair and sunglasses. He was starting to think the guy never took those off.

Dave Strider was normal. Just as normal as any other kid in the classroom. He was starting to think that maybe the weird situation had been in his imagination. Maybe it had been nothing.

But one day, as Karkat was leaving a bookstore near his house, he saw Strider again. Wearing his tightest skinny jeans and a jacket that was far too skimpy for the weather. Karkat frowned. This wasn't anywhere near the campus. And somehow Dave didn't strike him as the off-campus student type.

Karkat hesitated. He really shouldn't. He should ignore it. It was none of his concern. He'd already discussed this with himself and he knew it was the shittiest idea in the history of shitty ideas that he'd ever done.

…But as Strider disappeared down the street, Karkat shoved his paper bag of books into his messenger bag and sprinted through the brisk winter air to catch up.

He tailed him down a few streets as the layout changed from the suburban downtown scape to a residential area. The kid went down one street, then turned right at another, then went up another street, turned left at another… Karkat lost track of where he was. Good thing his phone had GPS to get back. When he passed a spray-painted green tree that he'd seen before, he realized they were going in circles. Was this kid lost?

Dave disappeared around a corner and Karkat followed, only to find himself suddenly accosted and an elbow aimed at his throat as the pink-haired Strider stared at him. "Why are you following me?"

Karkat held up his hands. "Shit! Sorry, I—"

"Aren't you my TA?"

"Intro to Film Analysis. Nice to see you again."

The guy's elbow shifted down as he stepped away from him. "Sorry, I thought you were some creep."

That's because he kind of was. "Look, I didn't mean to scare you. Maybe we could go somewhere and talk? Clear this whole thing up? I think we started off on a bad note here."

Dave glanced at his watch. "Alright. But not for long. I have somewhere to be."

xXx

The coffee shop was loud and crowded. Jazz music filled the air. They squeezed into a table in a corner at the back, where Dave quickly crossed his arms and leaned forward.

"So? What'd you want to talk about?"

"At the Roosevelt Library. I saw you the other day," Karkat blurted out. Way to be subtle. "With some guy."

Karkat frowned at him, letting his words permeate the guy's brain. When it finally kicked in, Dave turned pale like he'd just been caught red-handed dragging some dead guy's body away. He recovered quickly, covering up his reaction with a shrug and a laugh.

"Oh yeah, that. I was just helping him with something. He got a bit lost and—"

"I know what it was."

Pause.

"And?" Dave dropped the nonchalant act, leaning forward. His voice lowered. "What do you want?"

"Nothing. Is it so hard to believe that I just want to make sure that everything is okay? You're a student of mine. I want you to be safe."

Dave let out a soft snort of laughter. "I'm perfectly fine. I practice safe sex. No teenage pregnancies popping out of my ass. I know the word no."

"Do you have to make a joke out of everything? I just want to be sure that you know what you're doing. All of the ramifications of it and—"

"Look, I'm not a kid. I know what I'm doing, alright? And I don't need a lecture from some 30 year old dweeb that wears loafers and argyle socks." Dave gestured to Karkat's ankles as he stood up, which were flooding and showing a bit of his socks.

"Hey, this is standard uni attire. The uniform of soon-to-be very important professors and scholars everywhere. And I'm only 25!"

Dave cracked a small grin. He'd been fucking with him. Right, now he couldn't even read the jokes of pink-haired idiots right.

"Do you have a pen?" Dave asked.

Karkat dug in his bag before finding one and held it out. Dave pulled Karkat's hand forward, leaning over to write on it. Karkat really wasn't a fan of being written on. What if the ink seeped into his skin? What if he got skin poisoning? What if he got cancer? All because stupid teenagers thought it was cute to write on peoples' skin in fucking ink pens.

Dave let his hand go and Karkat looked at it. It was a number.

"Feel free to call sometime, alright? I hope this doesn't affect my grade."

"Wait, I can't take this—" But Dave had already left earshot, slipping out of the coffee shop door. Karkat scowled down at his palm, and then realized another thing he had to be angry about. The bastard had stolen his pen.

xXx

That was the one and only time they spoke all semester, unless it was him giving instructions for a test or Dave asking questions about the specifics of a paper the class had to write.

And then the semester passed. It was summer. All windows were open and fans were circling but he was still a hot and sweaty mess. Perfect, annoying, blasted summer heat.

Karkat swatted a mosquito that had somehow made its way in and leaned over the kitchen counter, looking over the recipe books in front of him and the ingredients he had spread out. Yeah, he thought he had everything. Good.

A phone was up to his ear, ringing for what seemed like the 30th time. He mussed his messy, unbrushed hair, tapping a foot. Come on… pick up.

A click and a female voice answered. "Hey."

"Hey!" Karkat let out a relieved breath, turning away from the counter of scattered ingredients. "How are you? I swear that was the fifth time I called. You really busy today?"

"A little. Yeah." Her voice sounded kind of dull.

"You tired? You sleeping okay?"

"Here and there."

"Well, hopefully you can get a bit more sleep when you come here tomorrow. I can't wait to see you. I'm fixing the food now. Well, actually, I don't know. Is it against the rules to bake your own cake?"

"Karkat." Her voice sounded tired again.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not coming."

Karkat stopped in his tracks. "What do you mean you're not coming? Did your flight get delayed?"

"No. I mean. I canceled. I'm not coming."

"Why not? Too much work or…"

"Do you know how exhausting it's been?" Her voice broke into frustrated anger. Karkat was taken aback, phone glued to his ear. She continued on, "When you moved, I thought, yeah, sure, we can do this long distance thing no problem. But ever since then you've been distant. Do you know how many times I've called and emailed and you wouldn't reply? For days. Almost a week one time. We promised that we would have Skype dates, and you bailed on almost every single one of them."

"I'm sorry. I got busy. Grad school is a full-time thing. Not to mention TA-ing and trying to get my thesis idea approved before the committee board..."

"I've been busy too, Karkat. But I still managed to put in the effort."

"Rach…" He didn't really know what else to say. "I care about you. A lot."

"I know. But that's not enough. Look… I think we should stop seeing each other."

"We can work this out."

"I've tried discussing this with you before. It never changes, Karkat. You never change. I'm done. You can be really good with relationships when you're with someone, but when you're away, you don't know how to handle it. So we're over. But I wish you luck, alright? And… Happy Birthday, by the way."

There was a click. The call ended.

Karkat stayed on the line, staring blankly at the space in front of him. A pot of noodles boiled over on the stove, but he didn't even notice. Had that really just? Had she really just…? She really had just… Fuck.

xXx

He destroyed his kitchen. He flipped over cookbooks, tossed ingredients against the wall, screamed and raged until a neighbor knocked on his door and wondered if everything was alright. Then he yanked open the door and yelled into the neighbor's face that everything was not alright, and that his girlfriend had just dumped him over a phone call, and if he wanted to rage and scream in his own goddamn apartment then he was going to. And he shut the door again.

But he didn't continue to scream and rage. Instead, he silently sat there, fuming for a second, before looking around at the mess he'd made and deciding to clean it up. He scrubbed the walls, mopped the floor, cut his pots off on the stove, tossed out the burned ingredients, put all the cookbooks back where they actually belonged.

Just as he was picking up the address book and wondering whether or not he should order pizza—happy birthday to him—a piece of paper slipped out and fell on the floor.

He leaned down to pick it up and saw the number that he'd hastily copied off the scribble in his hand and shoved into the address book like it'd be hidden away from sight. A number. No name. A shock of pink hair. That guy.

Karkat debated. No way, that was stupid. Just because he'd broken up with his girl didn't mean he had to go crawling to a guy right afterwards like he needed some skeezy pain relief. But then again… wasn't that how people got over these things? You douse one heartbreak with the pleasure of entering another? And this wasn't even like rebounding on the dating scene. There'd be no dates, no emotional attachments, just pure physical stuff, right? And he wouldn't even have to get dressed up or leave his apartment to do it.

He tapped his fingers, staring at the number. It was fine. The guy probably wouldn't pick up. Either way it's not like he'd actually be available tonight and by tomorrow when he came to his senses he could just call and cancel right? No big.

His fingers were already dialing the number.

It picked up on third ring. "Hello?"

"Hi. This is uh… I was uh…" Smooth going so far. "I was wondering if maybe we could meet and ah…"

"Are you calling about an ad?"

"No. I—you gave me the number. On my hand."

"Oh! TA!"

"My name is Karkat."

"So you finally decided to call. Here I was thinking that you'd stand me up like some cheap mannequin on display. I was hoping I wasn't getting the wrong vibes. You want to set something up? When? Where? What are you looking for?"

"Now would be good."

"Now?"

"Like tonight. If you're free."

A pause, before Dave spoke again. "I'm free. It'll cost you a bit extra."

"That's fine. And I'm down for anything. Whatever."

"Give me the address."

Karkat told him where he lived. Then he hung up and looked around his apartment. He'd already cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, so it looked pretty decent. But he smelled pretty awful. He was sweaty and his hair looked a mess. He needed to shower.

xXx

By the time Dave showed up, he was showered and ready. He'd dimmed the lights, lit candles, sprayed some nice scent in the air, had a movie on and ready to play. Okay… all set.

The doorbell rang and Karkat leapt up to get it, opening the door to find Dave Strider staring down at him. He didn't look much different than he did in class, except maybe a cocky self-assurance that wasn't dulled down by lack of sleep and early-morning coffee. His lips had different colored rings in them today. A pierced eyebrow rose as Dave looked back at him.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah. Sure. Sorry." Karkat stepped back to let him in the door and Dave entered, shrugging off his jacket and messenger bag to reveal a tight tank top and jeans. He was still in "twink" status range, but he was fit, with muscles stretching across his arms. He was attractive.

"I like to get paid up front."

"One sec. I'll go grab it. Can I get you anything? Wine? Water? Some food?" Karkat asked.

"I'm good. Thanks."

Karkat ran to the back, grabbed the envelope, then hurried back out again, placing it in Dave's hands. The guy opened it, briefly running a hand through the money, and then he shoved it in his bag.

"Where to?"

xXx

Karkat led him to the couch, where they proceeded to kiss. Or actually, make out would probably be a better term. Dave was a really good kisser. Much better than his now ex-girlfriend. Though she'd probably claw his eyes out if he ever told her that. Maybe he should tell her. He should definitely tell her.

Their lips pressed against one another and Karkat tasted the other man's piercings. They tasted metallic and hard. He ran his tongue against them. Dave met his tongue with his own, running along his and pushing into his mouth, where he caressed the inside of it. Another piece of metal touched the roof of Karkat's mouth. A tongue piercing? He sucked on Dave's tongue and a pleased groan emerged. Nice. Very nice.

Dave's lips finally separated from his and went to his neck where he kissed a slow trail down. This time it was Karkat that let out a noise of pleasure. His breath quickened as Dave kissed along his collarbones, sliding his pierced tongue along it. He ran his hands up Dave's sides, grazing along the muscles he'd glimpsed through his tight shirt. Then he brushed the edges of his shirt, rolling it up.

Dave pulled away from his collarbone for a second, lifting his arms as Karkat pulled off his shirt. Karkat caught his face before he ducked back down, and pressed his lips to his, heatedly kissing him again. Their tongues swirled around one another for a bit before Karkat flipped him over, pushing him down onto the surface of the couch.

He grinded against the other man's jeans and Dave returned the favor as he snaked a hand around his ass, cupping it. Karkat moaned into his mouth. He broke the kiss off and Dave went down to his neck again, running his teeth against it.

"Can you bite?"

"Do you want me to leave marks?"

"Yes. Do it."

Dave bit him hard. Karkat winced and bit his own lip, sighing as pleasure ran into him. Then Dave sucked another spot and bit again. He ran up and down Karkat's throat, alternating between using his tongue, his lips and his teeth, nibbling at some areas, biting hard on others. And sucking. Karkat could already feel a few hickeys that would probably appear tomorrow.

"You're really good at this."

"Mmm."

Dave's fingers went to Karkat's shirt, lifting it up and over his head. He tossed it behind them. Then both their chests were bare and Dave's fingers started to tease his nipples. He pinched one between his fingers and Karkat groaned. Then Dave's lips were on his own, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and sucking briefly, before letting go. His teeth grazed against it.

He could already feel himself hardening as Dave grinded against him again. And his wasn't the only growing bulge in the room.

He pulled away to look at him and found that the boy's eyes were still obscured by his sunglasses.

"Do you ever remove those?"

"Not generally."

"So the entire time I have to get fucked by some 'cool guy' wearing shades and a solemn expression?"

"Is that a problem for you?"

"…I don't know. I haven't done this before."

"Anal virgin?"

"No. I've done that before. I just haven't done this thing that we're doing now. And with the sunglasses that makes it a little awkward."

Dave looked at him for a moment.

"What?"

"Is it that hard to say that you hired a hooker?"

"Yes. Yes. It's very hard for me to say things like that because I don't do things like this, okay? Karkat Vantas does not break up with his girlfriend on the eve of his birthday and hire hookers to sleep with them to dull the pain. I don't do it."

"Wow, night before your birthday? That sucks."

"I know right."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I usually don't accept clients who know my actual name. So I guess the night's full of firsts."

Karkat let out a slight laugh and the mood was lightened some. He leaned down to press a kiss to Dave's lips, who shifted to pull him closer, but Karkat wiggled out of the hold.

"Can we… not anymore?"

"No?"

"No. Can we just… watch a movie or something?"

Dave's eyebrows shot up, but he shrugged. "It's up to you."

xXx

They snuggled together on the couch as Karkat fiddled with the remote, turning on the movie he'd had on pause. Just in case, you know?

The one and only complaint came when Dave realized what it was. Karkat think he let it slip out before his filter came back up again. "Titanic?"

"Titanic is a classic. What's wrong with Titanic?"

"Titanic is a classic failure."

"Oh here we go. The complaint of every snobby film nerd in the history of this miserable planet. Titanic is genius. And it's a romantic, perfect love story between two crossed lovers who risk everything to be together. How is that not beautiful?"

"They could've both fit on that door."

"There are logical, scientific, proven, physics reasons for why that could not occur."

"James Cameron fanboy alert."

"I am not a James Cameron fanboy! I didn't like Avatar, okay? The graphics were great, but the writing could've been a lot better."

"It's fine. Whatever. I'll watch it. At least it's not The Notebook."

"What's wrong with The Notebook?"

"Oh God. You're a fan of The Notebook too?"

"The Notebook is an amazing movie. Even as a film analyst you have to admit that. Some of the scenes are so well-structured it's enthralling. Why do you think they show it in film critique classes? What movies do you like? Things like Borat?"

"Hey. Borat's a quality movie."

"But yet you don't like Titanic?"

"Can we just agree to disagree?"

"We will agree to disagree. We will agree to disagree at a later date in which case we can completely and thoroughly discuss all the pros and cons of each genre and film categorization and also why Titanic is better than Borat any day."

"Can we just start the movie now?"

xXx

They cuddled together for the next few hours, watching Titanic. Dave didn't let anything slip beyond his professional filter now, besides fake mild interest. But Karkat didn't intend to let him rest on it. He'd track him down so they could have an actual debate. Maybe he'd feel better about openly discussing it if they weren't in this whole… situation. You know. Client. Date. Thing. Yeah. That's what he'd call it. Wait. So did that mean that he planned to meet him again? He guessed so. Huh. That'd be kind of nice, actually. It's not like this had been a bad experience.

Then he got involved in the movie and he started sobbing his eyes out in parts. Dave looked mildly embarrassed for him and went to the bathroom to get him tissues. Karkat blew his nose and cried more.

This movie. It was just so sad in parts… But it was so beautiful. He couldn't help but rewatch it even though by now he knew all the lines by heart and mouthed them along with the actors at times. By the time the ending came he was a wreck.

He glanced over at Dave, who had buried his head into his knees with shaking shoulders. Maybe he was crying too and wanted to hide it to be manlier about things. Karkat wouldn't blame him. Titanic was such a sad movie.

When the movie was finally over and Karkat had recovered from the tears and emotional ranting that Dave had nodded and patted his head through, Dave stood up to leave. Karkat walked him over to the door.

"So, this was nice. We should do it again."

"You can always text me. Call me. You have my number. It won't be as much as it was this time if it's not on such short notice. And if you don't decide to keep me for Titanic."

Karkat watched as he picked up his jacket, sliding his arms through. Then he slung his bag around his chest. Karkat opened the door and right before Dave passed through it, he pulled him back, giving him a short kiss. "Goodnight."

Dave returned the kiss. "Night, Karkat. Sweet dreams."