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lacertae-dreamscape · 13 years ago

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Quadrants

So I gave myself a challenge: to write one drabble of around 1k words for my OTP (DaveKat) for each quadrant existing.

That means them as Moirails, as Matesprits, as Kismesis and as Aupistices. Each drabble is titled so you know which one is which. You might find the Auspistice one amusing, so please don't ignore it!

Pairing: Dave/Karkat (plus minor others)

Rating: PG-15

Warnings: none, really.

QUADRANTS

Red – Matesprits

Dave stares at the movie in his hands, then up at Karkat, then back down at the worst display of movie cover he’s ever seen in his life.

“What the fuck is this, Vantas, it looks like someone gathered together a bunch of amateurs from the street, made them star in a movie with no budget and no style, then edited the whole thing on a shitty computer with not enough memory before forcing a poor critic to watch it without subtitles… it’s awful”.

Dave’s voice is laced with enough disdain that even someone as dense as John would be able to feel it, but Karkat marches on anyway, not one to indulge Dave and his theatrics.

“That,” he replies, his tone both satisfied and condescending, “is one of the best movies made by Troll industry, and it will do you well to take particular care while watching it. As you are part of an inferior species, I do not expect you to be able to see the beauty of this movie right away, but I confide that with enough time at my disposal, I will be able to make a sensible matesprit out of you”.

“The hell, Karkles, I thought we were as tight as peas in a fucking pod,” he grunts out, clearly not liking where the conversation is going.

“Take your head out of your waste chute enough to shut up and let me enlighten you,” Karkat snorts, rolling his eyes. “This, here, is the perfect example of how matesprits work”.

Dave’s face twists in disgust –the shift is not really noticeable, but Karkat has grown apt at reading even the smallest change on his lover’s face, and after a while, even while wearing shades, it becomes easy to understand.

He might look disgruntled now, Karkat thinks to himself as he pushes the human back inside the room and forces him to sit on the sofa, moving to fumble with the GVD player (standing for Grub Versatile Disc, a much better name than the stupid human version Digital Versatile Disc), but soon Dave will see the truth and finally come to appreciate the beauty of Troll movies.

The title of the movie he chose is long –thirty lines of text depicting all the qualities of the movie, which are obviously many given the length– but not as long as the movies that came after that, and he’s quite satisfied with his choice.

It’s the long, convoluted story of a couple of middle-spectrum trolls during the Troll Medieval period, and how they switch from a heated caliginous romance to a beautiful matespritship. It is one of the best movies Karkat has ever seen, and he’s quite sure even someone as romantically challenged as Dave will get that.

The GVD starts, and Karkat hurriedly shuts all the lights, sending the room into a pleasant, velvet darkness with only the television light to show him the way back to the sofa.

He gets there in no time, sitting at Dave’s side and watching the starting music with a smile. Dave opens his mouth to talk not even three seconds in, probably to demand him to stop already, but Karkat presses one hand on his mouth and glares, and the human deflates.

Satisfied with himself, Karkat curls on the sofa, forces Dave against his side –after all, watching movies together falls under the romantic spectrum, and he’d never turn his back on flushed cuddling– and focuses his attention on the movie.

Dave is mostly silent, only giving grunts and exaggerated yawns for the first half an hour, then quietens down, and Karkat is happy enough to call this a victory.

The story drags him in, even if he’s already watched it so many times he lost count, but it really is better with someone there to enjoy it with.

Until halfway through the movie, at a particularly heart-breaking point where the two lovers are separated by a higher blood seeking a kismesis with one of them, Karkat tilts his head to the side, and realises by Dave’s soft, even breathing, that his matesprit has fallen asleep on him.

Karkat feels frustration grasp at his inner foodtubes; he didn’t alchemise that movie simply for Dave to fall asleep on him. He has half an idea to grab the idiot by an arm and shake him awake, but then he looks–he really looks– and his eyes soften.

Dave is resting his head against Karkat’s shoulder, muscles lax, looking entirely comfortable and deeply asleep, and he just can’t muster enough anger to wake him up anymore.

To be honest, Dave isn’t really that bad as a matesprit. He admirably listens while Karkat rants about shit he clearly cares nothing for, and even if he hides it behind his ironic façade, he’s a cuddler.

Maybe he needs this –Dave never lets himself rest unless he feels completely at ease and he trusts his company, and to see him sleeping next to him is probably the greatest show of trust Karkat will ever get.

The thought warms him up –no amount of perfect movie romcom is every going to top the pity and the human sickness called love that Karkat feels for this unnerving human, no matter the levels Dave goes in order to be a prick.

Slowly, Karkat reaches forth with one hand, and removes the shades from Dave’s face; another sign of trust is how Dave does not wake up. Karkat is a familiar, trusted presence, and he doesn’t get startled awake anymore whenever the troll touches him.

Lips curling upwards in a small smile, Karkat carefully places the shades on top of his own head, mindful of his stubby horns, then relaxes again on the sofa, the heat coming from Dave’s body making him feel fuzzy and at peace.

As the movies goes on, Karkat’s attention keeps straying on his sleeping lover, hand holding onto Dave’s and massaging his palm gently.

Maybe that isn’t the way he wanted his movie night to go, but he finds himself not really giving a shit about it.

This, right now, is perfection.

Pale – Moirails

“We’re not going to win”.

Dave is almost never taken aback by things; he’s always planning, always working and thinking and doing stuff in the background, and as such, always knows more than he should.

That is why there is almost nothing that can surprise him.

Almost. Unfortunately for him, Karkat doesn’t abide to the obvious rules Dave has for himself and his coolness.

The troll just likes to smash through stuff and make things way more complicated than they have any right to be, Dave himself included.

“Shit are you saying, Karkles,” Dave turns around to stare at the troll, eyes narrowing a bit behind the ever present shades. “Did you go and get your head smashed against a rainbow wall by your troll flush?”

Karkat’s cheeks turn the lightest red –he still refuses to let himself go with the emotion stuff– and he swats at Dave’s shoulder.

“That is something he reserves for you, fucking asshole,” Karkat growls.

Then, he turns around and starts pacing in the small quarters Dave ended up calling ‘shitty home’. He doesn’t look calm at all, and the bags under his eyes look slightly bigger than normal, which means they’re fucking huge already.

Dave watches him pace, wondering if he should pull one out of Terezi’s book and pap the fucking troll into a puddle of goo, but decides to wait before doing that.

“Enlighten me on why you’re freaking out now, oh–mighty–Leader of this meteor”.

He wanted his voice to come out almost disinterested, but maybe he’s better at this than he thought, because Karkat freezes, turning around to glare at him with such an offended look Dave instantly feels like the shittiest moirail ever.

He wonders why he accepted this weird quadrant shit in the first place, especially since he and Karkat have only started hitting it off recently.

“I’m sorry if I thought I could trust my fucking moirail to listen to me without using his mouth to spout shit,” he hisses, throwing his hands up in the air in a gesture Dave has grown far too familiar with in the last few months.

With a sigh, he steps forwards, and despite the embarrassment he feels at initiating contact of any type that does not include violence, he gently pats Karkat’s head, fighting the impulse to recoil and say something ironic to cover up the feeling of his coolness dropping to new lows.

It’s hard to remember this doesn’t make him any less cool –certain lessons are really hard to learn.

“Shoosh, fuck, Karkles, shoosh,” he grunts out, pointedly ignoring the way his own blush spreads up to his ears.

As always with these troll things, it works almost like a motherfuckin miracle –inwardly, Dave curses at how Gamzee’s speech is slowly worming its way in his thoughts– and Karkat slumps a bit, letting out a soft sound that resembles a purr.

Dave feels rather satisfied with himself.

The trance is broken by Karkat snapping out of it and pouting up at him. “You have no rights to shooshpap me, you nooksucker,” he growls, stepping away from him.

“If I remember correctly, it was you who tackled me and forced me to become your fucking moirail, so now shut the fuck up and let’s have one of your embarrassing feelings jam. You’re going to spill all the shitty details on me, babe. All of them,” and the steely edge in Dave’s tone is enough to make Karkat comply.

The shitty pile in Dave’s room is nothing like the one Karkat has in his respiteblock, but it is ok, no matter what the troll has to say about it –usually never something nice– and Dave pushes Karkat down on it, sitting close to him.

Karkat stares pointedly at him and Dave groans before slipping his shades off; this is something he dislikes, because he values his motherf… his privacy, thank you very much, but Karkat is all for proper shit and trust issues, and the troll always gets what he wants.

Dave wonders if that’s how moirails work, or if Karkat is just pulling him around.

Maybe both.

“I feel like we’re doing shit to prepare for when we’re going to land, fuck,” Karkat grumbles, looking down at his hands. “We just waste our days with all the unimportant romance and I’m the first who should grow the fuck up and do something else, but then…”

“But then you find the clown in your room and you go all sucky–facey at each other, got that,” Dave shrugs, his gaze wandering around the room idly. One wall is lacking in drawings, maybe he should call Terezi and the Mayor to fill it for him.

He bets Terezi won’t mind giving a hand.

“F–you shouldn’t say it like that,” Karkat is easily provoked, and Dave doesn’t want to push too hard –his flipping with Gamzee happened so abruptly neither has had time to settle with the new feelings, so of course they spend most of their times doing sloppy makeouts.

If Dave didn’t spend half of his time doing hate sloppy makeouts of his own with the very same clown, he would snort in disbelief.

Troll romance sure is confusing. And weird. He isn’t even sure how it works for him, but as long as it does, it’s ok.

“What would you do then?” he returns to the conversation at hand and stares at Karkat’s head. The idiot is still not looking at him. “I have all the time in the meteor, literally, but there is nothing much we can do until we get there”.

“How the fuck would I know?” Karkat groans and digs his claws into the head of one of the puppets Terezi gave Dave for his pile. It lets out a squeaky sound that makes both human and troll stiffen. “The situation didn’t change much since we started running from that fucker, and I feel as useless as before”.

Karkat is starting another rant –Dave can feel it coming– and there is enough self-deprecation in the air already without him spouting it out. Instead of papping him again, which should be the right course of action, Dave opts for a painful slap to the back of his head.

This silences him well enough.

“The fuck are you doing Strider?!”

“You were going to say stupid stuff,” he replies, as chill as Himalaya during winter. “We were not running, Karkles. We might not have any fucking idea about what to do in detail, but that doesn’t mean we’re going down. Rose can cook up enough strategies to kick the bastard home with his tail behind his legs, and you just have to lead us like the fucking bossy leader you are. Leave the rest up to the pawns,” Dave points to himself.

That is what he is, a knight worth enough on the chessboard to work things out, and he feels no sadness in saying that, but Karkat apparently isn’t of the same idea, because it’s him now swatting Dave on his head.

“Shut up, you know you deserved it,” he returned when Dave opened his mouth to complain.

Dave rolls his eyes, then he stiffens when he finds himself with an armful of troll. All his honed instincts are crying to shove Karkat away and demand him to ‘give me some fucking space man, I’m not your teddy bear, a Strider gotta keep his cool privacy bubble’, but privacy appears not to be an issue for trolls.

At least not moirails.

And Dave sort of doesn’t really mind, despite how fidgety and embarrassed he gets about it.

“Calmer now, Karkles?” he asks, refusing to hug the idiot back but allowing him to hold him close.

Karkat mutters something under his breath that Dave doesn’t catch, but nods against his chest. “You’re not that bad as a moirail, for a human”.

Dave rolls his eyes again. “I’m like the best moirail ever existed on a shitty asteroid moving through stars and shitty space, man. Get your facts straight”.

Karkat smirks, and Dave allows himself to smile.

This pale shit isn’t that bad.

Black – Kismesis

It’s infuriating.

The way he glares at him, the way his eyebrows draw together when he’s about to say something incredibly loud and rant-y, the way his lips twitch with an underlined disgust every time Dave walks around, every time he speaks up, every time he makes it clear that he has an opinion, that he exists…

They clash. It’s powerful, it’s confusing, it’s utterly horrible, and it’s all claws and teeth and anger and violence.

It’s like the explosion of a supernova, burning his mind down to crisp until he can barely think.

The thrill of balance, of knowing where they stand, of knowing how to act around each other, what to say, what to do in order to drag a reaction out of each other…

That burning sensation growing inside his chest is the reason he keeps doing it, and he knows –when Karkat looks at him, snarling and hissing and growling and yelling– that the feeling is pretty much fucking mutual.

When they start waxing black, the whole meteor knows it. Nobody is surprised.

When they actually roll with it, when it doesn’t break them up nor stop, when the tension simply grows thicker and thicker, the whole meteor watches on. Nobody expected it.

They thought it wouldn’t work out, that they were incompatible for a black quadrant, that they would soon find out and regret ever trying…

They were wrong.

Karkat is loud, but his true hatred seethes quietly, the storm is all forced into a dangerous calm, and the fact that he explodes is just appearance –he’s cool, he’s controlled, every inch of him is pushed down and tamed, for years (sweeps) taught him to hide and keep himself in check, as not to be culled.

Dave is quiet, calm, chill, but when he loses it he’s messy, wild and searing like pits of lava, and his explosions are truly a work of art, burning strongly, passionately; the control he seems to have on himself snaps whenever his façade is broken through, and that is exactly what Karkat does, every time.

And yet, when everything is said and done, when they clash together, nails and claws and teeth and fierce determination… they balance out, becoming null.

In the afterglow, when their mouths are not pressed together, they share the emotional rollercoaster that is their existence, what they share and what they don’t, and mutual respect almost overwhelms the hatred.

Trolls don’t hate the way humans do, and Dave doesn’t feel like calling what Karkat feels ‘hate’, because his definition for it would never include sex, nor kissing, nor wanting to keep Karkat alive so he might hurt and bite and scratch him next time –so he has no words for what he feels, except that he craves it like water in the desert, and that the moments spent fighting with Karkat make him feel alive.

He’s never felt alive ever, after coming back to life as a Godtier.

Karkat lives on, rages and fights and hurts, and Dave can see all of this, and it drives him crazy.

So whenever he feels Karkat’s fingers dig into his back, ripping his cape, fuelling his rage, Dave smirks, and burns.

Humans don’t hate like trolls do, and Karkat sometimes fears what he has with Dave might turn red, but it never happens; the human is far too despicable, the rage that fills Karkat every time they speak is like an infinite supply, and he just falls more and more in hate with him.

He craves this hatred because it grounds him –Dave is complicate yet simple to understand.

Karkat knows what makes him tick, he knows what Dave feels because it’s just what Karkat himself feels, and it’s this vile similarity that makes him hate that fucked up human even more.

Human hate with a cruel side, they don’t associate lust and carnal desire with rivalry. Their hatred burns cold, and their ideal is to devastate those that oppose them. Karkat shivers thinking about what that’s all about, and wonders if that means he will have to one day crumble under Dave’s hatred.

Yet Dave fits his spot as kismesis so well, giving Karkat the feel that this caliginous he’s nursing is perfect –exactly like what he’s always dreamed of.

He gets the feeling that Dave understands, or at least knows enough to make it work, and that is what makes him the best partner.

The feeling Dave has for him is less like human hatred and more like its troll equivalent –fiery and passionate and bubbling– and where Karkat would have been incensed by having to lower himself to a non-troll standard, he’s grown to understand that this is exactly what it has to be.

It’s mutual, it’s right, and it’s exactly what he wants.

He respects Dave for giving that to him, and his hatred grows even stronger.

So every time Dave slams him against the wall, smirking that delectable, detestable smirk at him, Karkat smirks back, and rages on.

Equal standing, equal hatred, different but burning through, Dave and Karkat keep dancing, kissing, biting and fucking and fighting, until their understanding of each other sinks deeper and deeper, until it makes them seek the other out, until they can trace every action of the other, precede it and evade it, until they work so well together they don’t need anyone else.

Kismesis who work until they can only go down to one another.

It works. It’s boiling hot. It’s bubbling and fizzling and perfect, and as they step through their dance, fuelling each other to get better, faster, stronger, deadlier, the meteor travels on, bringing them further along their path.

They move on, and they are not going to be defeated –Dave’s hands to Karkat’s claws, eye for an eye, step and fight and crawl, sizzling and deep and lusting and–

Black.

Ashen – Auspistices

They’re together again, Karkat seethes, and glares at them from the other side of the room, unable to move from his position against the wall.

Around him, the Mayor of the fucking Can Town has sketched a complicated maze of trees and houses with all the chalk he could find –except the trees are yellow, because the green ends up in his stomach, much like there can be no red around when Terezi is present– and the carapace keeps glancing at him, staring with defiance at the troll.

Karkat knows that this means war –he knows that the stupid thing wrapped in dirty blankets is challenging him, telling him without words that if he were to move and ruin his drawings, there would be hell to pay… but he doesn’t give a fuck.

And yet, he does not move, not because of the mayor, but because he simply can’t; watching Terezi flirt around with Dave makes his heart boil with so much anger he fears it might overwhelm him.

The fact is, Terezi stated it clearly –she chose Dave as her moirail, and the stupid human was ok with that… in fact, his exact words were something about it being so chill it would be like frost fucking with snow to make baby icicles.

The problem is, Karkat has a hard time believing that.

They can’t be just moirails. Their closeness doesn’t feel pale at all –they smile, laugh, they don’t have feelings jams, they don’t sit around in piles, they just draw, with Terezi cackling her adorable laugh and Dave cracking up his horrible raps, and they have this air around them, and Karkat–

Can’t fucking stand it.

He is afraid. He’s afraid that despite all his careful plans and all the schedules, Terezi will end up flushed for the fucking human –the same fucking human he borders on waxing black for, which is not something Karkat wants to analyse at this point in time.

Karkat has offered to share Terezi with Dave, but now, watching them interact and feeling his anger and hatred boil so strongly he is sure he will jump on them any time now, Karkat knows –with painful certainty– that he doesn’t want to share.

He wants Terezi in his red quadrant, and he can even take his head out of his waste chute enough to admit, at least to himself, that it might not be that bad to have Dave in his black.

He just has to keep being suck a fuckass. It will be easy.

But… if they flip over to flushed, Karkat will not be able to bear it.

He can’t.

So he watches on, trained eyes on every move, every gesture, every laugh they share, his body trembling with the need to just fucking get to them and rip them one from the other, because no –they can’t switch to flush, they can’t.

It’s when Dave leans forwards, wraps one arm around Terezi’s shoulder, and drags her closer to him, and Terezi smirks up at him, and licks his cheek, that Karkat snaps.

He fucking snaps, and in three quick steps, he’s across the room, smearing chalk in his wake, grabbing Terezi with one hand, Dave with the other…

And shoves them aside, forcefully, violently, and glares at both.

Dave is the first to turn to him, and it’s clear to Karkat that he’s glaring at him from behind those fucking shades. He can even ignore Terezi’s confused (and amused) blind look for a second to address more important matters.

“Fuck you, Strider,” he grunt out, aware he’s snarling. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you look at her. If you’re out for flush, you better back away right the fuck now”.

“Karkat…” Terezi’s voice is both amused and annoyed now, but Karkat has been holding it all inside him for too long. He’s on for a rant. A long one.

“Karkles, listen–”

“No, you fucking listen, Strider,” he growls, and Dave falls silent. “You work your ass back into your pale quadrant, which is more than you deserve from Terezi, and leave it at that. What you think as a human, with your horrid single–quadrant romance, is unimportant at best, when you have to deal with troll relationships. What you have with her can’t go red. I will not allow it. I will be around all the fucking time to make sure you won’t get there”.

Karkat continues on for a bit more, explaining the intricacies of moirallegiance and matespritship to the fucker, feeling like he’s the only one on the meteor who understands what it means to keep your red and pale distanced –like his pale feelings for Gamzee, he keeps stating, using his own very functional relationship as a wonderful comparison.

He starts thinking something might be wrong with the human when, halfway through his longwinded rant, Dave stops frowning and actually smirks, and his anger doubles when instead of nodding in understanding, the fucker even dares snickering.

The sound is weird –seeing emotions on that bulgesucker’s face isn’t really something Karkat is familiar with, even though the sight isn’t entirely unpleasant – and it makes him shut up in the middle of a phrase.

He glares harder. “What the fuck, Strider, is what I’m saying so amusing you can’t insert all your cape in your mouth and munch on it until I’m done?!”

Dave snorts, and Karkat is sure that he’s rolling his eyes.

The thought makes his hatred shift to an even darker shade of black.

“Karkles, that would be you. You have this mad fixation with my cape, it’s not even funny. Do you need your Linus’ security blanket on so badly? Go fucking find your own cape to cling to and suck your thumb all you want, but let my cape out of this fucked up situation”.

“What the fuck are you even saying, nooklicker, fuck, you make me so–”

This time, it’s Terezi’s chuckle that stops him, and he glances at her, confused for a moment. In that instant, his feelings for her point a bit more towards the black, but not as much as he’s waxing black for Dave.

“Just let me clear up something, Karkles,” Dave clears his throat, and Karkat turns to him again. If looks could kill, the meteor would be full of far too many doomed Daves. “You’re convinced me and Rezi here are turning cherry red for each other, right”.

Karkat’s answer is a low, hateful growl.

“… and I’ll take that as a yes. Well, ok. And you are going to butt in every time me and my lady friend here are getting our pale time on, to kick my butt if it ever turns red”.

Karkat nods vehemently. He knows it’s all for the good of his relationship with Terezi. Surely Terezi understands.

“Ok. So you’re going to cockblock me for eternity,” Dave nods to himself for a moment, and his smirk returns. “And despite all your words on how your stupid quadrants can vacillate and have wild orgiastic foursomes, you’re pretty much all for monogamy here, one person for one quadrant, no cheating, no shit”.

“I have no fucking idea what monogamy is, but if what you mean to say is that we are faithful to one partner for quadrant then yes, fucking grubmuncher, that’s how it fucking is”.

Karkat has no real idea where this is going, but if Dave keeps talking, maybe he can see how some hate sloppy makeouts might pop up in the nearby future.

“Vantas. Your ashen butt is all up my grill,” Dave is still smirking.

Wait. What.

“What. No. Wait a fucking moment,” Karkat’s eyes widen in shock as he finally processes what Dave has been saying. “No, fuck, I have no intention to be your fucking Auspistice! That is not what I’m doing! Fuck!”

Dave’s smirk widens. “That’s not what it looks like from here, Vantas. Welcome to the beautiful city of Cockblocking Auspisfishland. Population, one lousy troll”.

Karkat can feel his world crumble around him.

He fucking went and turned himself in Terezi and Dave’s Auspistice, completely cockblocking both his perfect, beautiful redrom and his deranged, lustful blackrom, in one single swoop.

And as such, there is only one thing he can do.

Karkat absconds.

His running away is accompanied by Terezi’s loud, amused cackle and Dave’s quiet snorts, and as he leaves, even the Mayor seems satisfied, feeling clearly vindicated for his destroyed park.

He has to find a way to block all those ashen urges and get the fuck back into filling his concupiscent quadrants instead.

Being a young troll is hard, and nobody understands.

Fuck.

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