Chapter 4

A/N: Quick side note! The lyrics attributed to the fictitious rap group "Midnight Crew" (I'm not funny, I know) actually belong to Lil Wayne, having been unceremoniously ganked from 'Sky's the Limit.' It wasn't my intention to reference an actual song, but.. oh my god, the lyrics were too good not to. I don't own it, etc etc.

Tavros had never slept well. Even as a child, he rested fitfully, jumping awake at any slight noise, the remnants of a nightmare hanging low around him more often than not. He had been concerned about the challenges living with a stranger might present, but nothing had worried Tavros more than whether he'd be able to get any rest at all rooming with a rambunctious college freshman. He'd lucked out with Karkat, in a way – prickly as the boy was, he definitely kept to himself. Tavros doubted he could have gotten through the first week with someone who talked until midnight.

While Karkat and Tavros had settled on a tenuous agreement that allowed them both enough rest – one that consisted mostly of not acknowledging each others' presence, but it was an agreement all the same – Tavros hadn't expected himself to be capable of dealing with the intrusion of a stranger in their space. It was surprising enough that he drifted off at all, but even more so when he slept straight through the next morning. Dawn came and went, thready beams of daylight slipping through the blinds and washing over the disaster that was their room, but Tavros barely stirred. He must have been exhausted.

In fact, he didn't truly wake until an alarmingly loud thunk shook the opposite end of the room, accompanied by a barrage of sleep-slurred obscenities and what almost sounded like a honk. Tavros bolted upright, startled from the place between sleeping and not with a dizzying abruptness. He blinked hard, trying to force his eyes into focus.

"Buhznuh," he grunted, "wha?"

Karkat was sitting up and already looking aggravated, like he'd woken up that way. A pile of limbs and hair was unfolding itself on the floor beside his bed, and Tavros realized with a start that it was a person. Wait, no. Gamzee. His name was Gamzee. The night before was a strange, blurry memory, too surreal to be concrete. But Karkat's friend was chuckling drowsily, and Tavros supposed that was proof enough that he hadn't imagined the whole ordeal. He couldn't decide if that was reassuring or not.

"Christ almighty," Karkat was spitting, "have you heard of personal space? You deserved that. Fucking – oh, and you woke the legless wonder, good fucking job."

Gamzee levied his gaze in Tavros' direction. A slow and sleepy smile spread over his features, almost unnervingly wide from under the smudged grease paint. Weird that he slept in it. ...well, weird that he wore it all, but weirder still to reapply it before crashing for the night.

"Sorry about that, little bro," he rasped in a voice graveled and hoarse from the theatrics of the night before. "Didn't mean to harsh your z's." Tavros shook his head, mohawk flopping forward into his eyes.

"No, that's, um, it's fine," Tavros managed, still not quite conscious enough to be as terrified as he rightfully should. "I, uh." He frowned. "What time is it?"

Karkat dug for his phone, grunted and flopped back. "Nine-thirty. Fuck."

Tavros panicked for a fraction of a moment before he realized it was Saturday. No classes, no obligations. In truth, Tavros hadn't really considered how he would spend his weekends. The days preceding had kept him so busy, so close to completely overwhelmed that being faced with the sudden reality of free time left him almost at a loss. How did one kill time in college?

And then there was the matter of the situation on the other side of the room. It didn't directly involve him, Tavros knew, but he felt involved, and it seemed rude just to scamper off. Not that scampering was really an option for him, but still. He didn't feel right about leaving.

"You know, Karbro," Gamzee was observing from his place on the carpet, "I think I could go for some motherfuckin' breakfast. Thoughts?"

Karkat rolled over slightly to shoot Gamzee an expression of moderate surprise. "What, really? You actually feel like eating something?"

Gamzee shrugged agreeably.

"Um," Tavros said. "If it's, uh, if it's still 9:30, I think you could still c-catch breakfast service. At the, um, dining hall, I mean."

"Shit, brother, why didn't you say so?" Gamzee rolled to his feet in a motion so easy and fluid that Tavros had to blink twice to be sure it had happened. "Let's up and get our mastication on, yeah?"

Karkat groaned, but he staggered out of bed without further complaint. As he bent to dig through the war zone that was his belongings for a hoodie to pull over his threadbare sleep shirt, Gamzee turned to Tavros, who hadn't moved.

"Well?" he asked.

"W-well?" Tavros echoed, confused.

"Well, don't you need to get your sick self up and outta that bed to partake of the motherfuckin' morning meal?"

It took Tavros a moment to work out what their guest – for lack of a better term – was even saying, but his ears glowed a modest pink when he did. "Oh, uh, well, I hadn't m-meant to go with – I mean, I w-wasn't suggesting, uh, that is-"

"Well, consider this a fuckin' suggestion." Gamzee cut him off with a toothy grin and motioned for him to rise. Tavros fiddled with the corner of his sheet.

"I'm, um, not really d-dressed, and it takes me a while to change sometimes, so-"

"You look fine to me, motherfucker. All comfy and shit."

Tavros opened his mouth to protest, but only managed to make a strange, halting sort of whinny. Karkat groaned impatiently as he yanked his sweatshirt over his head.

"He wants you to come, so just shut the fuck up, get your ass in that chair and make him fucking happy, all right?" he snapped. Tavros winced at the sharpness of his words, but Karkat's brow had knit itself together in something that seemed almost pleading. In spite of himself, Tavros relented.

"I guess, if you're s-sure."

Gamzee's grin stretched a little wider as Tavros tipped from bed to chair and stuffed his lifeless feet into a stray pair of sneakers. He grabbed his phone, keys and ID card, and they were off.

They made a motley little group, Tavros thought. Karkat stormed along in the lead while Gamzee brought up the rear, humming tunelessly. Tavros tried very hard not to be afraid of having his back to the man. The rain had stopped but the campus was still water-logged, and an undeniable bite of early autumn chill lingered in the air. It was kind of nice. Crisp, in a way. Clean. It was new to Tavros, and wasn't new what he had gone looking for in the first place?

If that was the case, he couldn't say he'd been disappointed so far. Participating in a cross-campus weirdo parade was definitely new. A cripple, a clown and a hermit go to breakfast – was there a joke in there? There had to be.

The dining hall closest to Bode was a compact, single story building at the crest of one of the more modest hills dotting Pickering University. On the few occasions that Tavros had ventured in, it had been packed to bursting and reeking of chicken fingers, and it wasn't much different that morning. The crowds were a little thinner, probably a product of all the sensible students sleeping in, but the stench of grease met them like a wall of solid matter. Karkat gagged a little.

"Do you know how much we're paying for this shit?" he groused as they slid into line. "We're going to bankrupt the country by defaulting on our student loans in ten years, the least they could do is give us some decent fucking food."

"I d-don't think it's s-so bad," Tavros offered timidly. "They, uh, I mean, they at l-least give us, you know, a g-good selection."

"This optimistic little motherfucker has his thinkpan screwed on just right," Gamzee observed. "Looks like a pretty respectable spread to me."

"You wouldn't know good food if it fucking kicked your ass in a dark alley, took your mother's pearls and shot down your parents in cold fucking blood, leaving you to take back the night in their name."

"Dude, was that a Batman reference?"

"Yes, shitsponge, that was a Batman reference."

The line led them through the winding, maze-like setup of counters and serving tables, offering everything from luke-warm waffles to raw fruit. It was slim pickings, being so close to the end of first service, but they all managed to pile their trays with something vaguely edible in appearance and trundle towards the cash register. Karkat swiped his ID twice – once for himself, once for Gamzee. Tavros had thought it odd that they could use their meal plan balance for non-residents, but he saw the sense in it now. Together, the strange little party set up camp at a table designed to seat four, and by necessity, Tavros found himself situated between his roommate and their visitor; he always took the end of the table. It should have been an unbearably awkward arrangement, but he found he didn't mind so much. Maybe things had gotten so out of control that they'd all together blown an awkward fuse. Tavros was fine with that.

Of the three of them, he was undoubtedly eating the most. Gamzee hadn't selected much in the first place and Karkat picked at his food as irritably as Tavros supposed he should have expected. For his part, Tavros was tucking in. His appetite had always been healthy, and he was surprised to find that despite the situation, he was famished. Silently, he vowed never to skip dinner again, no matter how dire the circumstance.

Tavros was so involved with his meal, in fact, that it took a moment for him to notice that he was being stared at. Gamzee sat to his right, slumped into such a pronounced slouch that they were almost on eye level. An uneaten chunk of ham was stuck to his abandoned fork, as if he'd simply forgotten what he was doing when he crossed his arms, leaned his elbows on the tabletop and started peering at Tavros like some Delphic mystery was unfolding before his eyes. Karkat had wound up into a rant on the miserable state of something-or-other and paid the strange behavior no attention, but his words began fading to a dull, meaningless buzz for Tavros. It was hard to hear anything over the roar of that stare. This close, Tavros could see the tiny lines and cracks in his new acquaintance's face paint, like rivers and valleys in an alien terrain. He could see the split in Gamzee's lip, the faintest hint of malnutrition in the graceful inward arc from cheek bone to chin, and the exact points where what were once crisp edges of white, black and gray now faded seamlessly into each other. Gamzee's eyes no longer burned, but Tavros couldn't call them lazy, either. He didn't know what to call them.

He could feel the blood pulsing in his veins as terror warred with confusion and something Tavros couldn't name. His breaths became shallow and soundless; he was too afraid to exhale. Eventually, Karkat did notice what was happening, and his verbal onslaught petered off into an uneasy silence. For a moment, the longest of Tavros' life, all three boys were perfectly still.

"What?" Tavros finally whispered.

Gamzee melted into a smile. "Tell me about yourself, motherfucker."

"Huh?"

"You, bro, tell me all about your righteous little self."

Whatever spell had fallen around the group was broken. The strange tension evaporated and Karkat leaned back in his chair, either irate or relieved – it was hard to say which. Tavros exhaled shakily.

"W-what d-did you want to kn-know?" He forced the words out around his stutter, cursing himself with every syllable. Gamzee gave a languid shrug.

"Why don't we start with the motherfuckin' basics, man? Where the hell do you call home?"

"N-new Mexico." Somehow, the very thought of the place soothed Tavros' nerves. He even attempted a tiny smile. "I've n-never been so f-far away before."

"Shit, really?" Gamzee looked pleased. "Can't say I've up and been out that way myself. I don't travel too much."

"Me neither," Tavros admitted.

"Well look at that, brother, that's one thing we got in common. Bet there's more. What else?"

"GodDAMN, Gamzee, shut up!" Karkat snarled. "Stop fucking interrogating the kid! It's weird!"

"I d-don't mind," Tavros responded, surprising himself even as he spoke. It was a little weird, sure, but it was better than shouldering the brunt of Gamzee's stare, and if he was honest, Tavros wasn't sure he could remember the last time someone had seemed so interested in him. "He, uh, he can ask w-whatever he wants."

"Oh Jesus," Karkat muttered.

It was hard to attribute too strong an emotion to the sedate individual Gamzee appeared to be that morning, but it seemed almost like delight crinkled at the edges of his eyes. "Well in that case. Favorite color?"

"Uh, w-well, orange, I guess?"

"Favorite game."

"F-fiduspawn Advance."

"Favorite album?"

"Tales from the G-grist," Tavros admitted with a sheepish smile. The Midnight Crew was not a good band, by any stretch of the imagination. Their music wasn't deep or political, and frankly, Tavros' taste in rap was terrible, but-

He couldn't even get through a self-deprecative thought before Gamzee slapped the table with an open palm, startling half the dining hall in the process.

"Ain't gotta lie when I tell you I'm the illest," the clown exploded, seemingly out of no where, "my flow is so nasty, just like CY Phyllis!"

The verse flew from Tavros' mouth like an automatic response. "Self-made G, them bitches know the business, relying on rap, but in the kitchen I'm a chemist!"

"And when I was five," they wailed together in a terrible harmony, "my favorite movie was Gremlins! Ain't got shit to do with this, just thought I should mention!"

Karkat slumped forward, head to the table, in a wordless groan of misery. The entire dining hall was now staring slack-jawed, but Tavros didn't notice. He and Gamzee were too busy dissolving into a laughing fit. It was just so gloriously, foolishly funny for some reason. Gamzee's laugh was a rough, cracking thing, something between a bark and a rumble, and it mixed with the halting, hiccuping giggles Tavros had always hated in a strangely complimentary way.

"I cannot even fucking deal with this shitalanche," Karkat moaned. "Could you possibly consider shutting the fuck up before we get kicked out of our own fucking dining hall?"

"Relax, man," Gamzee was snickering. "We're not hurtin' a single thing, just up and enjoying a good time with some sick beats. Oughta try it sometime."

"Just because you've finally found another shitface with terrible fucking taste in music doesn't mean you get to start making me want to murder you more than I normally do, which, for the record, is a whole fucking lot."

Gamzee reached across the table to give Karkat's hair a ruffle. Tavros half expected Karkat to bite him, like a particularly ill-tempered chihuahua or something, but to his surprise, Karkat actually looked semi-mollified by the contact. How did he do that? Tavros opened his mouth to ask, but a pair of shadows cast themselves over their table and the words died in his throat.

"Hey," Sollux said. Next to him was someone Tavros hadn't met, a thin blonde in a pronounced slouch, aviator shades obscuring most of his face.

When no one responded, Tavros realized with a start that he was being addressed. "Oh, uh, hey!" he said. "Good morning."

"Tavros, right?" Sollux jutted his chin towards the others at the table. "Who're your friends?"

" Who the hell are you, douchebag?" Karkat snapped,

"This, uh, this is K-karkat, my roommate," Tavros stuttered. The tension had evaporated when he and Gamzee began making fools of themselves, but it was building again, and it made him nervous. "And, uh, Gamzee. Karkat's f-friend. Gamzee. This is S-sollux, guys, he, uh, he lives in the n-next room, and, uh." Tavros blinked at the other boy, unsure of how to continue.

"Dave Strider," the stranger replied. "Rooming with Sollux. I'm assuming I haven't met you yet because neither of you ever fucking shower."

"Fuck you, kid!" was Karkat's eloquent response.

"So, uh," Tavros intervened, "are you g-guys getting b-breakfast?"

"We already ate," Sollux responded. He was frowning. "We were just on out way out. What was all that fucking ruckus last night? I knocked but no one answered."

Karkat and Tavros immediately traded glances, but Gamzee only managed to snort a laugh into his arms. Tavros suspected it had something to do with the way Sollux pronounced 'ruckus'.

"Uh," Tavros began.

"How about none of your fucking business?" Karkat responded.

Dave glanced back and forth between his roommate and the others, one blonde eyebrow quirking just over the upper rim of his shades.

"Rough sex?" he asked.

The noise of indignation and flat-out fury that escaped from Karkat was only barely human. Tavros blushed a violent crimson that would have been visible from space on anyone of a fairer complexion. Gamzee just laughed, but that was the expected response of someone wearing clown makeup and reeking of whatever-it-was.

"That's disgusting and you're disgusting for suggesting it." Karkat seethed.

Tavros handled things with a little more tact.

"T-that, uh, w-was not the, um, the s-situation, as f-far as I can t-tell, but, it was more like, uh." He paused, searching for a plausible explanation. "They, uh, hadn't s-seen each other in a while, and I guess they just, you know, g-got a little... rambunctious, reuniting. S-sorry."

"Really?" Dave asked. "Because it sounded like rough sex. Though I can see how that could happen. Haven't seen your buddy in a while, slap him five, take him hard against the wall, totally normal."

Karkat was reduced to wordless splutters of rage. Gamzee just grinned foolishly; it probably did nothing to bolster their argument, but Tavros wasn't sure that was the thing to be focusing on at the moment. Beet red, he attempted a weak, tittering laugh.

"Yeah," he agreed, "it's m-must have sounded, uh, not v-very good. I'll m-make sure they, you know, tone it d-down."

Sollux continued to frown. Tavros got the feeling that the only reason he had asked as tactfully as he had was out of something like concern for the little crippled guy in the next room. It probably had sounded pretty bad from their end, come to think of it. So Tavros tried his best to smile genuinely, as if to assure the taller boy that no, he had not been viciously beaten, no attempts on his life had been made – it hadn't gone quite far enough for that. Sollux searched Tavros' face for a moment before his expression crumpled into something more flippant than serious. He believed him. Good.

It never occurred to Tavros to wonder why he was covering for Gamzee. He had kicked Karkat's ass and was clearly unbalanced to some degree; Tavros wasn't convinced he wouldn't still hurt one or both of them, or even someone else. Every ounce of common sense Tavros had told him not to cover for a dangerous man, to tell someone – Feferi, maybe – about everything that happened and let an authority figure handle it. Maybe it was a mistake not to. But Karkat's eyes had begged him, nakedly and desperately, like he was screaming out for help, and Tavros couldn't ignore it.

He felt compelled to help them both, and he didn't know why.

"Well, whatever," Sollux was saying. "Just keep it down to a dull fucking roar or something. I guess we'll see you around."

Tavros nodded enthusiastically while Karkat only glowered. Sollux turned towards the exit and Dave followed, tossing them a wave over his shoulder. Karkat returned it with his index finger. When they were out of sight, Tavros let out a sigh of relief.

"Isn't that motherfuckin' crazy, best friend?" Gamzee was chuckling. "You an' me."

"Fuck," was the only word Karkat could spit out.

They finished their meal quickly after that. Karkat and Tavros were both eager to get out of the dining hall's close quarters, and Gamzee had almost finished what little food he'd selected in the first place. Soon they were breaking out into the sunshine and making the trek back to Bode, well-fed but uneasy. Tavros cleared his throat and took a valiant stab at conversation.

"So, uh, Gamzee, were you and Karkat going to h-hang out today?" he asked, wincing inwardly the moment he said it. He hoped it didn't sound like he was asking to come along or anything.

"Nah, little bro, I've gotta grab my shit and get my lazy ass down to work here in a bit. Maybe tomorrow."

"Not likely," Karkat grumped. Gamzee just grinned.

"Where d-do you work?" Tavros asked, a note of shyness in his voice.

"Aw, motherfucker, it's completely sick. Wicked little piercing parlor downtown."

"They let this fucker stab people with sharp objects," Karkat interjected as they slipped inside and took the elevator to the seventh floor. "For money. It's insane."

Tavros did have to admit, it sounded a little on the crazy side. Gamzee just waggled his eyebrows – one of which was pierced twice. It suited him.

"I'll have to show you sometime," he was saying. "You'd fuckin' love it. If you're motherfuckin' cool with that, I mean."

Tavros blinked. Gamzee was watching him carefully – as carefully as someone like Gamzee could, anyway, waiting for a certain reaction, a tell of some kind. It took Tavros a minute to decipher what was really being asked. Gamzee wanted to know if they were cool. If they could keep talking. There was a hesitation lacing Tavros' mind; he wasn't likely to forget the way Gamzee's voice had nearly ripped him in two. He wasn't sure it was safe.

But... everyone had problems, right? Gamzee seemed nice. Really nice. Strange and funny and a little bit terrifying, and maybe it was risky, but before Tavros had even made up his mind, he felt himself nodding.

"Yeah." His voice was softer than he'd intended it to be. "Yeah, I'd l-like that. I think."

Gamzee split into a grin, which seemed to be his default expression, but where his smile had so far been lazy and noncommittal, it now seemed lined with genuine enthusiasm. Like Tavros had just made his day. As Karkat fought with the lock to their door, Gamzee dug in his pocket, unearthed a sharpie, seized Tavros' hand and scribbled something on the top of it.

"Pester me later, Tavbro," he said.

Tavbro?

Karkat gestured for Gamzee to get his ass inside and their lanky acquaintance obliged, gathering what few things he had brought and tweaking Karkat's nose on his way back out.

"Honk honk," he said. Karkat looked ready to deck him one.

And then he was gone.

Tavros glanced down at his hand. Gamzee had scrawled his chum handle in an untidy script leaning dramatically to the left. terminallyCapricious.

The words sounded ominous to him.