((Finally, a chapter updated in not butts amount of time! Let me just say that this was fun to write, epecially the last part. I know this might seem a little fast, but I wasn't planning on making this very long in the first place, soooo... have some winter shenanigans. Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews; they are very much appreciated!

Homestuck belongs to the Huss of Lips, but the humanstuck designs and the storyline are mine.))

The entrance to the second floor of your house stares down at you, mocking you, the assortment of festive supplies scattered about you an embarrassing reminder of your ignorance. Your head hurts; your back hurts; your pride has been pierced with a thousand arrows. In an attempt to sit up, you end up sliding down the two remaining carpeted steps and hitting your noggin once more on the cold, shameful floor. For once in your life you wish you had just listened, because you can't even count all the times this has happened.

Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you have been warned about stairs.

Making a sound somewhere between an idiotic laugh and a grumble, you finally push yourself to your feet and lean back down again to pick up your lost party items. There isn't much, really, considering you don't care as much about decorating as having all your friends here and having fun. That's right, today is the day that those glorious winter shenanigans take place, and although you have an odd way of showing it, you haven't been more excited. You sift through your storage bin to find old gel snowflakes that can barely stick on your storm door anymore. Frankly, you hate the things, but they match the mood and you don't really have much else that's holiday-neutral, so why not. They stick rather well on the freshly-washed surface, and you breathe another sigh of relief for the fact that all the cleaning has been done yesterday. Winter break hasn't bored you yet since it has come late this year, and despite the fact that you honestly studied for once in your life, your midterm exam grades are dull aches in the back of your head. You raid the bin of garish holiday doodads in search of maybe one more thing that could go pretty much everywhere and still be mild and easy to set up. Thankfully, your hand emerges from the abyss with a pile of evergreen garlands. Ambling through the house a bit faster than normal, you fling the fake plant matter over windows and countertops and decide that you're done. Back in the front hall, you confirm the fact that if you never have to see another one of these things it will be too soon.

You stumble back up to your room to retrieve the hastily and somewhat carelessly wrapped gifts for your friends. Careful about those pesky stairs this time, you stumble right back down and set them on the old dining room table next to the assortment of munchies. Leave it to winter to actually force you to be productive. The moment your hands are free there's a knock on the door, and when you look at the clock you actually see what time it is, causing your somewhat low energy level to suddenly skyrocket. A quick peek out of the peephole reveals a familiar glasses-clad figure, and you fling open the door, welcoming a snow-covered Sollux inside. Red and blue seems to be a theme here; as he shifts his arms he secures his packages wrapped in paper colored uncannily like his odd glasses, skinny limbs covered in red jacket over faded blue jeans.

"The bike'th on the porch. I hope you're happy that I thpent thith much time freething my rear off to get here." You hold the door open for him by sort of leaning on it, and he dusts off his jacket as best he can with an armful of stuff and steps inside. The first thing you notice once he's away from the glare of the sun on six inches of snow is a very garish scarf so full of various colors you can't tell one from the next wrapped tightly around his neck. He unwinds it without a word and flings it over the coat tree. He must have seen that dopey, confused expression you tend to adopt because he pokes the wet thing and addresses no one in particular. "Hanukah gift from FF and ED. I mean jeeth, what'th the point? I don't even care much about it but they inthitht on thelebrating it with me."

"They? The both of them? Huh."

"Well, it wath mothtly FF'th idea, but thinthe everyone knowth fith-fathe can't get enough of her, he tagged along," he explains, and though his lisp is making it a bit difficult to understand, you get the gist of it: half-Jewish bro receives holiday scarf from friend and her closer friend, simple as that. You relieve him of his presents, secretly checking to see which are whose, before another knock jolts you back to the real world as violently as possible. You can barely call the sound a knock, though, as it's more like a colossal pounding that shakes the doorframe combined with a series of dastardly expletives the neighbors can probably hear. Shaking your head and sighing as if you have a bit of wisdom for your seventeen years, you put down the load in your arms next to the others of its kind and jog back to the front entrance.

You continually wonder how such a tiny, pale kid like Karkat can make such a racket, but there he is: all sunken glare and big, poofy coat and clenched fists. In one hand are three cards, each with one familiar name on them in his girlish writing. The other is bright red at the knuckles and is quickly hidden behind his back. Chocolatey but not very delicious-looking hair is squashed down on his head by a knit hat with a tassel. He steps inside, brushing past the both of you and tossing the cards on the table with everything else. "I didn't have time," he explains, shrugging off layers of outerwear, all of which he most likely needed to keep warm. "There's stuff in there, so stop worrying about what you're gonna get." He looks at you with those frightening eyes and then stares intently at the foodstuffs on the table.

"Help yourself, brother." You leave the door open for the last person to see. "I didn't put these miraculous munchies here for nothin'." Without a word Karkat grabs a single chip from a bowl and nibbles on it, maybe just for the sake of having something in his mouth when asked a question. Sollux doesn't even wait for your permission before he has a handful of pretzels and is gobbling them down at the speed of sound. For such a skinny kid, he could vacuum your entire house of food in record time. You hear the sound of tires crunching against gravel and the last vehicle is in front of your house, an old van that looks as if it belongs in a hippie movie. A birdlike woman helps a teen about your age out of the van, depositing him in his wheelchair and waving goodbye as he rolls to the door. Immediately you're there, holding open the storm door, now foggy with frost, as Tavros, face red with cold, wheels inside. You look back to see Sollux smirking through a mouthful of pretzel, trusty phone in hand.

The moment the four of you are together the room warms up. Karkat makes the gradual shift from crabby and introverted to sarcastic and somewhat willing to talk. Sollux shuts off his phone and manages a few lispy, nerdy laughs. Tavros emerges from a shy shell and babbles from then on. You finally focus and summon your inner host, which is still subpar, and your friends grudgingly let it slide. You start in the middle of the den floor with an empty bottle of Faygo and some truths and dares. Sollux and Karkat call the game immature and girlish, but you immediately ask why that's a bad thing and point to Karkat's gaudy Christmas sweater and everyone shuts up. Your Karbro spends the first part of the game with his turtleneck pulled almost completely over his head so all but his eyes and the tips of his ears, bight red, can be seen. Eventually the two grouches get into the game, and you and Sollux make it your goal to ask the most awkward questions and issue the most outrageous dares possible.

"Gamzee you dickwad, that is personal." Okay, you have to admit not many male persons of your age would admit to sleeping with any sort of stuffed toy, but you've seen Tavros's fairy bull thing tucked neatly into the corner of his bed and you thought you'd give it a shot. The guy asked for truth and frankly this was the most family-friendly thing you could think of; the four of you have inquired and requested much more unadulterated things, but you thought this would just be silly. So you asked and Karkat began pouting and he still is. You snicker as an idea comes to mind.

"Ya know, the more you act up an' offended, the more I think you're just hidin' some creepy collection of stuffed… stuff," you drawl the words out, making sure to sound as laid back as possible; this is not a hard task, since you're currently sprawled out on the couch in your sweats, trying not to fall into a warm doze. You barely react when Karkat begins spluttering and denying everything.

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GAMZEE, I HAVE NO FREAKING STUFFED ANIMALS! ARE YOU HAPPY?"

"Yup."

"Hey, KK, what about Krabbleth?"

"Captor, you will shut the hell up and you will do it willingly."

"Krabbles?"

"Sollux's lying! There is not and has never been anything Krabbles-related in my vicinity."

"Suuuure."

After a few more odd jokes and trying not to gag after licking an unidentified, inanimate surface, you quickly get bored and offer to exchange the gifts. Everyone perks up noticeably, although only Tavros and you admit to it. Flopping off of the couch and pushing yourself to your feet, you retrieve the pile of presents and present them to your broskis. Each takes the gifts addressed to them, as customary.

"So, whose gifts do we wanna open first?" You ask when everyone has arranged their stash into neat little piles. Karkat grudgingly raises his hand, explaining that there isn't going to be much and you might as well get it over with. You open up your card and a grin stretches across your face as a folded paper gift certificate to that old music shop you love so much falls into your lap. It appears Sollux and Tavros have gotten similar items because they're both smiling, Tav a bit wider than Sol, and thanking Karkat in their own ways. You quickly join in.

"You better thank me. I spent good money on these things," is his only reply, although you can barely see the corner of his mouth inching upwards. Sollux volunteers to present his offerings next. Almost all his gifts are electronic, something you would suspect from the guy. As soon as your Karbro unwraps what look like sound-blocking headphones, they are secured to his head without any music; you see him breathe a sigh of relief and you can't help but laugh. You carelessly fling tissue paper from your bag, pulling out what looks like a CD. Jackpot: X&Y by Coldplay; your bipolar friend knows you much too well. He's in what you consider to be your bubble so you lope an arm around him in gratitude, poking his face with a honk. Lispy McNerd-face is stock-still, coughing out a reply and then telling you to get off because you obviously have no idea what personal space is. Tavros hugs a Fiduspawn manual to his chest from his wheelchair.

The last presents remaining that you see are your own. You don't even have to say anything before it's like Christmas up in here. You don't feel the need to elaborate on the gifts you give, but you do anyway. Karkat opens up another gaudy sweater, casually flipping you off. Sollux pulls out a big, fat book on technology that you would get bored after reading two chapters of, but his reaction is all you need to tell how he likes it. The happy little gasp on Tavros's part snaps your head in his direction with a speed you're not familiar with. He's squeezing the life out of a chubby host plush like a preteen girl.

"Thank you so much, Gamzee! I love it!" You really wish he would stop being so sincere in his thanks, because you immediately run out of things to say. You're confused again, because how can a sixteen-year-old male react in a way that… was it cute? Hmm, your Tavbro smiling at you through a face full of Fiduspawn: yeah, pretty much anyone would consider that cute. You end up grinning without your remembering it.

"Don't mention it." The words come out as a cross between a mumble and a laugh, but you don't care. You notice the lack of presents on Tav's part and are about to inquire, but he's smirking while he sets down his plush. Digging around in the backpack you don't remember him bringing, he pulls out an old, flaky-looking binder-like thing and drops it in the middle of the four of you. Your bro gets three sets of eyes staring perplexedly at him and doesn't hesitate to explain.

"It's a photo album. I know that this, um, isn't much of a gift for any of you… b-but please bear with me! I-I was thinking that after we're done here, we'll take a picture of ourselves, erm, and we'll s-store it in here. And whenever one of us visits another one our houses, h-he'll take a picture and add it too. And then he'll give it to who he's visiting and it'll start a cycle!" Tavros's stuttering lessens as he becomes more confident with himself. "So when we go to college and stuff we can still mail it to each other and stay friends and always have memories of our fun times together!" His eyes are absolutely shining, and you've never seen him so sure of himself. He's looking at all of you; you know he's just dead set on making your last years the best you've ever had, or at least you think so. You wait for someone else to speak up because your throat feels oddly tight, as if you're holding something in, and it occurs to you that his endeavors are plain touching you. You swallow hard and manage,

"So who's going to keep it first?" Everyone just gives you this blank look, making you feel incredibly stupid as you drag the book over to your stash. You regain your lazy stance, although for some reason it's rather difficult. "Hey, brosephs," You address them casually and chuckle to yourself as they all focus on you as if 'Broseph' has always been their name. "Why don't we go and make some use of that powdery miracle out there? We're only young once, and hey, it's snow, so…" You notice Tav perk up visibly, but your other friends just continue to stare. "…So… I'll just up and get the sleds, and you guys can start the snowball stuff, same as always?"

"That sounds good."

"Thure."

"Why not? It's not like we're going to do anything more productive."

All of you file out into the backyard after putting your winter coats back on and divide into teams, as customary. Sollux volunteers to keep Karkat's snowy rage at bay and the Karkat in question retaliates with something you can't hear. Two old toboggans are unearthed from the shed out back, one red and one blue; the paint has almost completely peeled away, though, and only a few flakes remain on the rickety wood, but you suppose it will have to do. Setting the sleds against the shed, you join Tavros and begin packing snow. Everyone knows the plan: ten snowballs to start, and once the game has begun, more would have to be made; when one team cries uncle everything stops. The rules, you might add, were created by a unanimous decision after Sollux nearly choked on a snowball early in life. You set your supply of snow in Tavros's lap, nodding to him. The two of you, always on a team, have a routine that is almost flawless: you provide the movement, running, dodging, and he who has more strength in his arms throws the snowballs. Your plan works perfectly. As soon as Karkat sort of growls the word 'go,' you're dashing and swerving and Tav is heaving snowballs past Karkat's so-called impenetrable snow fort and straight into Sollux's ever-inviting face. One problem, though, once you have the wheelchair in hand, you can't make anymore snowballs, so you're left frantically dodging Sollux's sudden and seemingly never-ending onslaught until the wheels are jammed with snow. You can't see for all the white on your face, so you finally give in and call it quits. Kar has a rare, triumphant smile on his face as he high fives a laughing Sol, and you think it's a miracle that your friends are having this much fun, plain and simple.

The sun is barely slipping down over the horizon by the time you're heading to the old hill with your sleds, and you wonder where the time has gone. You space out for a moment, feel a hand that you know is yours unconsciously grab onto something for balance as your mind wanders into fuzzy colors and sleepy singing voices of miracles, the kind you know don't exist. It's only when you hear a yelp, slip, and fall flat on your face that you return to reality. The wet has already made a mess of your face paint (which just has not been staying on lately, you recall) and some of it dribbles into your mouth with the snow and everything tastes god-awful as you stand again, spluttering but not that fazed. You realize the yelp came from none other than Tavros, who is currently gawking at you as if you had grown wings with faces on them.

"A-Are you alright, Gamzee?" Achievement unlocked: master of the hurt Bambi look. "You sort of, umm, how do I phrase this… you kind of grabbed onto my wheelchair, and I didn't expect that, so I tried to keep going, and… well… sorry."

"Aww, no, bro!" is your quick reply. "I'm the one who should be apologisin', stoppin' you without giving you a warning as to what I was gonna up and do." He relaxes a little and takes the sled you dropped on the ground, setting it in his lap. The others are yelling at you to hurry up, and you take the handles of his wheelchair and begin pushing him along.

"We're racing," Karkat says bluntly from the back of his and Sollux's sled. "Get over it."

You snort and reach down to muss up his hair, but your hand gets slapped away with stinging force before you can even reach your target. "C'mon, I wasn't gonna say no." Kar says something about 'just in case' before kicking Sollux in the leg.

"Crap—KK, what the heck wath that for?"

"You were laughing at me, you jerk."

"I wathn't laughing; where'd you get that idiotic idea?"

"You laugh silently, and we all know it!"

"I wath thmiling, thorry for breaking your no-happineth code."

"YOU WERE LAUGHING WITH YOUR EYES!"

"Alright, guys, break it up!" You do a terrible job of making some sort of hand motion for the word 'stop', and the two of them turn to you, faces pink with cold, anger, and a bit of embarrassment. You set the sled down beside Tavros's wheelchair and make sure it stays still as he slides into it. "Let's just get our race on, 'kay?" Karkles huffs and goes completely silent, readying himself, while your Solbro poises to steer. "See that stump at the bottom? Why don't we race to there?" Your comrades simply nod, most likely engrossed in the finish line.

You sit down behind Tavros, placing your hands on his shoulders for leverage; you notice the world become sharper, notice how Tavros seems to radiate heat, how he just barely tenses up when you apply pressure. You can see his Mohawk through his hat; see how he looks childlike even from the back, almost feminine with long eyelashes; see the little check patterns on his coat. You realize you're actually pretty darn close to the guy, and for some reason your face heats up; since when did you care about invading someone's personal space? You're confused again, frustrated at yourself for having this reaction to something so simple without knowing why. Confused turns to nervous when you begin to comprehend that this isn't normal, but all three bros are urging you to snap out of it and you barely have time to listen when Sollux shouts,

"Get thet… GO!"

Before you're frantically pushing off. It's a rough start, but you scramble with your feet some more and develop a long starting stride that, once completed, puts you neck and neck with the other party. Every time you race you remember just how large this hill is as now flies past your face and you can't see your other friends anymore. You both lean into the wind, simultaneously gaining confidence with your newfound lead. You call to Tavros to turn this way, then that, then there's an obstacle here, so be careful, and the two of you are just so in sync that you slip into the flow of speed and snow and looking over the shoulder of a bro that you can just make out the words that push into your ear from not that far back.

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WATCH OUT!"

He sees them before you do, the slight bumps in the snow after a flat section of the hill you forgot was there. The shape of them, angular and probably rectangular, and the way your sled starts to shudder and swerve can only mean one thing.

Stairs.

Your arch nemeses are dead set on making your holiday as physically painful as possible, you know it. Tavros is yelling for you to stop the sled, and you curse the horrid things before very stupidly slamming your foot down on the corner of one. The momentum makes your foot feel like it's shattering through the heavy soles of your converse and promptly flips your sled over. The world is a spinning blur of white and orange and purple and tan as you tumble down who knows how many steps. You get a brief glimpse of the sky, pale and timid and unsure whether it should snow or not, as you become airborne for a split second, Tav's screams and your own loud curses ringing in your ears.

The fall isn't as painful as you thought it would be, and a final "oomph" is emitted from you or Tavros or both. Your vision slowly rocks itself to rest as you manage a wheezy chuckle.

"I swear… these things are out to get me. Guess I shoulda been more care…fu…" You stop in mid-sentence when you notice some very crucial things about the ground beneath you.

One: it's warm in the winter and not covered in snow.

Two: It's telling you to stop covering its mouth with your arm because it can't breathe.

You're much too frantic as you jerk your arm away from Tavros's face but not prepared enough to get off of him. Instead you just freeze. He's staring at you, bug-eyed, the snow a huge contrast to his black hair and tan complexion. The tips of his ears and his cheeks are tinted bright red, and for just a moment there is eye contact with no sound, save for your friends' shouts and the scuff of feet on snow, muted in your own little world. You feel his knees and shoulders digging into you but don't bother to look because you're afraid that if you move your heart will burst from your chest and smack Tavros in the jaw, not that there'll be much blood; it's all in your face anyway.

"Uhh… G-Gamzee?" He must be uncomfortable, under all the weight of you like that, but it's just beginning to make sense. "Hi… umm… are y-you okay? Your face is… really red… Gamzee?" A revelation hits you and the world has flipped over, exposing its vulnerable underbelly.

Oh, that's right, you finally get it now.

Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you think you are in love.