Yo.

I just wanted to say sorry for the wait once more. And it's been one year ago this month (the second- I thought it was later) that I posted the first chapter of this story on here. Time's a fuckin' thing. Most people would dump this by now, and I thought I would, but nope, here I am, writing this still. And enjoying it. This story is my baby, and I hope to get it finished.

Oh, and a thank you to all my fav-ers and followers, on here, Tumblr, AO3, and dA (I'm an attention whore, what can I say). You guys are what keep this going.

Special thank you to TavrosGamzee on here. That burst of reviews kept me smiling like a motherfucker. Oh, and Dave wishes he could be me (not really).


Tavros caught a cold.

At least that's what Gamzee says (go figure). The bot thinks he fell face first in an icy cold pond. It was honestly expected; if you feel like crap emotionally, your body will catch up sooner or later. To Tavros' bitter resentment, it chose sooner. The boy says it might be death coming to take him alongside his dad. The bot also says he's being a bit overdramatic. The boy says shut up and get him some water. The bot complies, but not without a small laugh or two and a kiss on the poor boy's head.

That's how it's been these past couple days. Stuck in bed with only an affectionate steambot and his own construed thoughts to keep him company. He's not complaining, about Gamzee anyway, but Tavros wishes he could get out of bed without the agonizing vertigo and the concentrated paranoia directed at his blankets when he falls back in with a weak grunt. Every second the boy spends in these deceptive covers is another moment he curses himself for rejecting Karkat's offer.

And Gamzee, bless his copper whatever he has. He's never left the boy's side once, tending to him like a high grade medic bot. From getting him fluids, to grabbing his normal meds, that he's never once questioned. Good bot, best taboo lover.

Furthermore, the mohawked boy hopes that he's left at least once, when he's in deep sleep, to at least take care of his birds, or himself, however that may be, but when Tavros wakes up, he's in the bot's arms, like always, as if he never left.

Tavros will never get used to the attention. It's almost alien.

Today, the boy woke up around noon. His head still aches, he's stiff as a board, and the blankets cocooning him offer no help from the waving chills cascading through his body. When he cranes his head to peer out of the sheets, he's surprised to find an empty space instead of a blithe clown bot. Surprised, the boy stretches further and finds a glass of water placed neatly on the end table. Still no steambot in sight. Tavros also notices the house quieter than usual, only the timid ticking of the clock on his dresser, slighting unnerving him. He meekly calls out the bot's name, only to be met with more silence.

He would probably be more alarmed if he didn't feel so ill.

A few minutes of silence later and he relaxes back into the sheets with a palpable groan. It's strangely foreign, being completely alone in the big empty house (it's not a home, not anymore, it doesn't feel like it). He's been alone before, back in his former home in Prospit, it happened more often than not, as well as the few times here before he met Gamzee, but he's grown accustomed to the beaming, painted grin of the friendly bot next to him. Tavros' mind starts to wonder however; where could he be? The boy doesn't think the clown would just leave without some sort of message at least.

Almost like a prayer answered, the sick boy hears the front door open, followed by a curt slam. Assuming it was Gamzee (who else would it be?), Tavros eases further into the bed, closing his eyes and hoping the bot would crawl back next to him and-

"He looks like shit."

Or Karkat could come in. Before the boy could question his presence, he feels the bed dip and metal fingers carding through his damp, russet Mohawk.

"Hush, bro. Motherfucker's all up and getting his snooze on."

Tavros doesn't really have the energy to move, so he lets the bot believe that. In moments he could hear loud footsteps throughout the room and a chair being pulled next to the bed. He then felt a rather cold hand roughly slap his forehead and Tavros fights the urge to make a face against it.

"He's fucking burning; pull down those gogdamned sheets. And move the hell away from him; you radiate heat like an airship engine. He'll overheat." Tavros didn't have to see Gamzee to know that he was confused about this sudden order, but he does it anyway, pulling down the blankets chest level, and even though he's reluctant to do so, Gamzee scoots to the edge of the bed anyway. Tavros tries not to show his discomfort, despite the renewed chills running down his body.

"He's gonna be fine, right?" The bot sounded too concerned for his own good, as if his surefire confidence a couple of days ago started wearing away.

"It's just a cold, Gamzee. Not the Rust Fever." Karkat pointed out, curtly. The chair creaked, and the mohawked boy heard a meager gruff. "Fucker shouldn't have ran off in the rain."

Stillness, then a shift on the automaton's side. "How's-"

"I don't want to fucking talk about it." Karkat cuts him off, and the boy could assume it was about Sollux. He felt the bot flinch slightly, and the older sighed. "Not now, okay?" He offered, and by the way the clown stills, he takes it.

It became silent for the next few minutes, only gears whirling, harsh breathing, and clock ticking. Tavros was well on his way back to sleep before he heard the shifting of papers from Karkat's side. "You know it's important when they send the shit in paper."

The sound of paper tearing. "Kar, ain't that motherfuckin' against the law, or whatever…?"

"Not like Terezi's going to burst through the window and choke me with her cane."

It took Tavros a few moments to realize that Karkat was going through his mail. The boy would be cross if he wasn't confined to a bed. And supposedly asleep.

More paper rustling. There is a loud snort before Karkat inquired, "Who the fuck is Jake English?"

The boy's ears perked at the mention of one of his only friends he still had left after his incident. He hadn't heard from Jake in a little while. Not since Tavros left for Skaia, anyway. The paraplegic thought he might have forgotten about him. He's a little bit happy that his childhood friend sent something, even if it's not the best time.

"A motherfuckin' friend of Tavbro. From that town he came from. Pros- something… I swear I motherfuckin' had it…" He explains with a disconcerted huff. A part of the boy is surprised that the bot remembers that small fact. Even if he couldn't get the city right.

"Prospit?" He almost sounds surprised. "Huh, I was born there." He states almost matter-of-factly as Tavros hears paper sliding on the end table and more ripping. Gamzee's hand started to massage the boy's waist, and he had to hold in a content coo.

There's more silence, and it starts to become unbearable, and the boy shifts slightly into the bot's hand. There is a loud sigh coming from no one other then Karkat, then the boy felt something land on his face.

"Kid's gonna get fucking evicted."

Tavros' eyes shot wide open, whatever illness plaguing his body almost gone in an instant, and he bolted upright on the bed, grabbing the document on his face and skimming through it. He thought he saw Gamzee jump, startled, while Karkat cursed roughly in the corner of the boy's eyes, but he ignored them in favor of the pressing matters in his hand. Reading the letter through and through, making sure not to miss a single word on the neat stationary, he starts panicking more and more.

He expected this. He really did. The day the boy came home from the memorial in the rain he knew his days were numbered in this borrowed house. He saved face though, pretended things were going to be okay, just enough to fool Gamzee. And it still hits hard. But what made the blow worse was the excuse; his disability. Because of the fact that Tavros is paralyzed mid-thigh down, he's deemed useless, a liability. A kid who couldn't take care of himself.

So throwing him in the streets is the perfect solution. They won't even put him in with a temporary family, because he is a month away from his 18th birthday.

"Shitheads." And for once, Karkat's right.


Okay, for the record, the whole 'gog' thing. I know people are touchy about it. But it's weird to put God in a fictional universe that's not earth. You don't red Lord Of The Rings and expect someone to shout "Oh my God! Orcs are coming!" That don't work.