#hrRRGHGHHG i odnt like this one im bad at writing flirting

[blatherkatt]

Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 13: Two Months Slip By 

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of abuse and neglect, blood (minor), Dave has a lot of scars on his arms that are not from self harm but i wanna warn ppl anyway, substance (alcohol) abuse, (drunken) mentions of war and death, description of Alternian bigotry; Illustrated 

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Slowly, uncomfortably, with the grace of a cat forcing itself into a too-small box, routine settled in. Time passed.

The routine was simple enough: Five out of seven days of the week, Dirk, Rose, and Rachel would be away most of the day. Dirk would drive Rose to school and drop Rachel off…somewhere; no one but Rachel herself seemed to know what Rachel actually did in terms of a job. Rose, acting on Roxy’s advice, gave Dave a bit more space, which he mostly used to continue holing himself away. Still, he began showing up and joining the rest of the family for dinner, most nights, albeit saying very little. After school, Rose would talk with Kanaya. Karkat usually tried to spend time with Dave during the day when the rest of the family was absent, sometimes with Kanaya tagging along.

Dirk and Rose switched between dealing with dinner, and often Dirk would just pick something up on the way home. One night, somehow, the conversation drifted to the invasion. Rachel, hitting the wine a bit heavy, had started talking about The Good Old Days, making both the trolls visibly uncomfortable, but Rose was too curious to tell her to stop, and Dirk could rarely bring himself to be harsh with his mother when she got like this. She was lonely, he knew, and it was hard to hold it against her. Even when she started talking about Derek.

“He wasn’t always such a…he wasn’t always so bad,” Mom cut in. “I mean, he was always pretty intense, yeah, but he was, he was good once, he could be sweet and he cared, and…”

“Okay, sure,” Rose said, the disbelief in his voice matching Dirk’s own private thoughts on the matter. “I believe that about as much as I believe you used to be considered frightening.”

“More ’n frightening, Rosie,” said Mom, with a grin. “I was a fucking terror. Used to — they used to all gossip, ‘bout that Rachel Lalonde, how she’d kill you before you even knew what hit ya, just, bam, dead!  That was my job, picking ‘em off from a distance, and I’d sometimes have ‘em so scared that all you could see of ‘em was the big horns pokin’ out behind whatever cover they could find.”

Karkat gulped. Mom sighed and leaned back, swirling her glass. “Ramona had her own way of dealing with ‘em, but she scares just about everyone, enemy or not, and of course Derek’d be leading the charge for everyone fighting up close, with Benji always right on his heels.”

Dave coughed. Dirk flicked his eyes over, but Dave quickly recovered after taking a sip of apple juice.

“We had a system,” Mom went on. “Me and Ramona and Derek were young, but everyone we’d managed to get together in that mall trusted us to take charge, because we were good at it, and we only had a few people die during that whole six years. We were quite the little oddball family, we were…”  Mom chuckled humorously, looking at the dark red wine in her glass with a heaviness in her eyes. “Would y’look at me,” she said, “nostalgic over a damn war.”

Dave shifted again.

“Why?” Karkat said, breaking through his own obvious discomfort at the topic. “It sounded like the fighting was fucking awful!”

“It was,” Rachel sighed. “But…but we were a family, the four of us.” She snorted slightly. “Well, five if you count Ben, I guess. We all lost our parents, although I never did get the story behind what happened to the Strider boys’ folks, they never talked about it, but. We were all kids — well, Ramona was more of an adult, and she already had Roxy, but still — we, we all had each other, and we were doing okay, even if it was a war. And then…and then, and then, just.” She took a sip of her wine. “Then poor Dave died, and with him gone, everything fell apart…”

“Um,” said Kanaya.

“Wait, what?” said Karkat.

“Okay, Mom,” Dirk said, “I think you’ve probably had enough wine for tonight.”

Rose was about to add her own comment, when Dave spoke up. “She isn’t talking about me,” he said, softly. Mom shook her head.

“Nooo, not you, baby,” she said. “Derek’s li’l bro, he was named Dave. We named you after him.” She blinked, then looked at Dave. “You know about him?” she said. Dave nodded.

“B-uh, I mean Br-fuck, Dad talked about him sometimes when he was drunk, yeah,” Dave said. Dirk narrowed his eyes. Something about the way he stumbled across that sentence felt like he wasn’t getting the full story, but for now Dirk let it slide. Roxy’d said to be patient, so he’d wait for the rest to come out when Dave was ready.

Instead, he turned to Mom. “We have an uncle?”

“Had,” she said, rubbing at one eye as though fighting back tears. “Had, sweetheart. I never - I don’t talk about him, I know, I’m sorry, I shoulda mentioned him before…he was…he was such a good kid, he didn’t deserve what happened to him at all, and he died and…ugh.”

She took another long sip of wine. “When I was about three months pregnant with you two,” she said, gesturing at Dave and Rose, “s’ when it happened. And…and poor Derek, he was never the same after, he wouldn’t let me in anymore, and, and I don’t know what I did wrong, nevermind if he loved me or not, I couldn’t even get through to him as a friend afterward. And when you two were born, and one of you was a boy, I thought, I, well, might as well name one after Dave, maybe help save his memory? Maybe it was a bad idea, Derek went real quiet when I suggested it, I don’t know…”

“What the fuck is an uncle,” Karkat whispered to Kanaya, a bit too loud. Dave snorted quietly.

Rose tapped her fingers gently against her leg. “Why haven’t you mentioned him to us before now?”

“I don’t like thinking about him, honey,” Mom whined. “It makes me — it’s so sad, he was such a— he was such a good friend, and he did so much to help us all out in the mall, and he didn’t, he didn’t deserve what happened to him at all.” She was actively weeping, now, tears cutting messy trails through her makeup and landing in her wine glass.

“I really think you’ve had enough to drink, Mom,” Dirk said, as gentle as he could manage.

“There’s not enough booze in the world to drown all my sorrows, hun,” was her reply.

“And now you know what I mean when I say I’m all Bro’s got,” Dave said.

He’d just finished answering some questions Karkat had had regarding the ‘uncle,’ Dave’s namesake. Rachel’s story had been…hard to follow. Karkat still felt pretty fucking strongly that Strider didn’t deserve Dave by a long shot, but he guessed he could kind of understand why Dave felt like he had to stay. It was a shitty reason, sure, but guilt was a bitch like that.

“I still think it’s a pretty dumb thing to say,” Karkat grumbled, “and you really don’t fucking owe anything to some asshole who got himself killed before you were born, but whatever, sure, fine, you’ve got some weird obligation because family. He’s got that other guy, though, doesn’t he?”

Dave snickered, catching Karkat by surprise. “Yeah, I can’t believe his full name’s fucking— uh, shit, nevermind, forget I said anything,” he said, hurriedly.

“No, what? Where were you going with that?”

“Nowhere, man, it was stupid, don’t worry about it. C’mon, man, lemme have some fuckin’ secrets. Fuck knows you’re private as hell, you don’t get to read my diary and keep yours under lock in Fort goddamned Knox. Gotta at least let me catch a peek if you wanna know anything else.”

“Fine,” Karkat said, sitting down cross-legged with a grunt. They were in Karkat’s room, Dave laying on the floor with his legs awkwardly propped up on the bed. He looked fucking ridiculous, especially when he tried to twist to look at Karkat.

“What?”

“Fine, as in fair trade you fucking imbecile,” said Karkat. “Go on, ask me a question from my weird human diary, whatever the fuck that is. Go on, hit me.”

(No, pump biscuit, this was not a pale thing, shut up. It was some sort of weird human diary swapping ritual, or something. Nothing pale about it. Besides, Dave had sort of revealed that whole thing about getting caught with his phone a while before, and Karkat still felt sort of weird about the one-sidedness.)

“Well, uh…shit, okay, been wondering this for a while. I know you’re like, a space refugee and shit, but I don’t really get why, so. There’s my question, I guess, why’d you come to Earth?”

Karkat took a deep breath. Okay, he should’ve seen that coming. He could probably back out, right? He could just say that wasn’t something he wanted to talk about?

Except, Dave had opened up to him before, and it was obvious he wouldn’t open up to anyone else. And…Okay, yeah, maybe he did have a very slight pale crush, and if Dave was so determined to pale flirt with him, then so be it.

He took a long, thoughtful pause, before finally asking, “How much do you actually know about the hemospectrum?”

Dave tipped his head. “Are you leadin’ up to something, or are you tryin’ to change the subject? Cuz if you don’t wanna answer, man, you can just fuckin’ say so—“

“Dave, if you really haven’t realized by now that if I wanted you to stop asking, I would have told you to shove it up your waste chute, then you haven’t been paying attention. Trust me, I’m asking because it’s relevant.”

“A’ight.” Dave shifted. “Uh, hemospectrum, lemme think…it sure is a thing that fuckin’ exists.” Karkat groaned. “I know it’s about your blood, right?” Dave continued. “How it’s all in weird colors and some of y’all are really weird about it?”

“It’s not just a ‘weird thing,’ you culturally insensitive ignoramus,” Karkat said gently. “It’s everything on our planet. Your blood color has everything to do with who you can be, not to mention how long you’ll live and what you’re capable of. Different colors tend to have different abilities, psychic powers and so on, and the higher on the hemospectrum you are, the longer you’ll live and the better off you are in society. At the bottom are rust bloods, and at the top are the super rare fuschia bloods, who compete for the position of Emperor or Empress. Usually Empress, honestly. I’ve never heard of us having an Emperor.”

“Okay, and?”

“And under the old Condesce, culling was really common and the spectrum was super harshly fucking enforced. Highbloods could kill lowbloods with no punishment, and anyone who was deemed too weak could just be taken out, end of discussion. And then the new Empress took over, and started making changes. They’ve been implemented slowly, which is probably good, but it’s clear she was always intending on moving this way. No more culling, highbloods have to treat lowbloods with more respect, those who are better off should try to help those who need it, and so on and so forth.”

“That…that sounds pretty decent,” Dave said. “So, wait, then, if the new head honcho’s doin’ tryin’ to set things right, why are so many trolls running away from Alternia?”

“Because a lot of the highbloods there are really not fucking happy about these new changes.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. They’re taking things into their own hands, claiming the Empress is weak and seeking out ‘cull-bait’ themselves. The Empress is doing everything she can to stop them, but it’s a really big fucking planet, and there’s a lot of highbloods and even some midbloods who are doing this shit. She hasn’t been able to catch all of them. And even the ones who aren’t actively hunting lowbloods and cullbait, they’re just as awful to those people as they’ve always been. You have to understand, Dave,” Karkat said, his eyes serious, “highbloods live a really long fucking time. A ton of these bastards have been around way longer than the oldest lowblood, and they’re not willing to change. So, yeah, Alternia’s been getting better, but at the same time it’s also gotten a lot worse, because it’s so dangerous and so many other people in power besides the Empress just don’t care enough to enforce any of her reforms. She’s doing all she can, but it’s too dangerous.”

Dave was silent a long moment. “So…where do you fit into all that mess?” he asked. “Are you a, uh, a rustblood?”

Karkat snorted. “Wouldn’t that be nice,” he grumbled. “I’m…Look, this doesn’t leave this room, right? It’s just between us?”

“Shit, yeah, man,” Dave said. “I figured that went without saying. I mean, this conversation’s gotten absurdly fucking personal, and you didn’t go blab my fuckin’ sob story about Bro breakin’ my phone to anyone, so I figured we had a kinda understanding about this shit anyway? But yeah, sure, my lips are sealed.”

“Okay,” Karkat said. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and tried his best to steel his nerves. “I’m a mutant, Dave.” Dave tilted his head, but said nothing, waiting for a better explanation. “I’m not on the hemospectrum. My blood’s the same color as you humans’, apparently, which was fucking surreal to find out about.” Dave nodded, started to say something, then thought better of it, and let Karkat continue. “I’m not supposed to fucking exist. I’m the most pathetic of cullbait out there, might as well have a ‘Kill Me’ sign flashing over my head in giant, flashing neon letters for all to see.

“And what’s worse is my eyes are starting to change. Like, you thought I was a rustblood, and for now I can still hide as one, but eventually they’re going to be bright ass red, same as yours, and when that happens I’m royally fucked. I’ve been hiding basically my entire life, sitting in my hive practicing hiding whenever anyone looking to be in a particularly bad mood came by, because for all my bluster about being a big tough guy, the fact is I’m not much of a fighter. Not when I’m up against foes five times my sides with optional chucklevoodoos or mind control. Hiding’s the only chance I had, and…and in the end, that wasn’t enough, because some asshole in my neighborhood tipped off our local cullbait hunters that there was a hemoanon in the area, and they were sniffing around and getting too close to my hive, and I had to tuck my tail firmly between my legs and retreat, snivvelling and grovelling, to Earth, because all my friends had already come here and they couldn’t protect me.”

“Holy shit,” Dave said softly. “Dude, holy shit.”

“And the worst part,” Karkat said, “The worst part is that as much as I hated always having to hide and how cruel all the people there were, I…I miss it? I mean, it was awful, I know that, I know that Earth’s an objectively better place and I’m way safer here even if I did get grubnapped by a terrorist, but —“

“But it was home,” Dave said.

“Yeah. That’s a weird word for it, but yeah.”

Dave shifted a little closer, not touching Karkat at all but now sitting upright next to him. Silence filled the space for a long moment.

At long last, he said, “We really are just two assholes in the same sinking ship, aren’t we? Got our leaky-ass bowls and empty cans out, scooping and bailing away, but this shitty boat’s goin’ nowhere but down, and I ain’t brought my floaties.”

Karkat snorted. “You really do have some bizarre ramble for every occasion, don’t you?”

Dave grinned.

For all her disdain over the alien who seemed to know her brother better than she did, Rose would concede one good thing about this whole messy process of familial integration: Kanaya was a fascinating conversation partner. She had a lot to say about her job, about her own life on Alternia, and in particular about Aunt Ramona’s books. Rose took to speaking to Kanaya on a fairly regular basis, often settling in to do so as soon as she got home from school (homework could wait until later; she had a guest, after all!).

“—and I am still adjusting to some of the differences between our rainbow drinkers and your vampires,” said Kanaya one day, while they discussed one of Aunt Ramona’s books which Kanaya had particularly enjoyed. “Particularly the difficulty with daylight, as on our world, it’s quite the opposite. Rainbow drinkers are said to be very fond of daylight, and indeed to be quite luminescent!”

“I suppose their being diurnal makes sense, since trolls are nocturnal,” Rose commented, “but, luminescent, really? I suppose they’d have to hunt in the day in order to not be spotted by prey if they’re literally glowing.”

“Well, some stories show them being able to turn it off,” said Kanaya. “Still, the occasional bout of confusion aside, I did really enjoy Fangs for the Memories. I was a bit uncertain, at first, with how Sinestra was being a bit manipulative to keep Alicia doing her job, but it did come out to a very fitting conclusion, I thought.”

“Vampires being manipulative is fairly standard fare in literature concerning them,” said Rose. “They have some aspects of their portrayal in common with the Fair Folk, although they’re hardly a creature you’d expect to see in such places as those inhabited by the Lords and the Ladies.”

“I have noticed that,” said Kanaya. “It seems we have tricksters in common, but such beings seem to be more common in your folklore, whereas on Alternia those who win by wit rather than by skill and natural power and wisdom tend to be geared more toward children,” she said with a wince. “They’re generally regarded as escapist fiction, but it seems you humans love it at all ages.”

“Well, it’s only natural for a species that survived on wits to have such a fondness for the witty,” Rose said.

“I’m glad of it,” said Kanaya. “Although I am a bit confused about how Alicia supposedly outwitted Sinestra just by hiding within her own home? The door wasn’t even locked, and the book mentioned many times how Sinestra is very physically strong, and yet she couldn’t come inside?”

“She wasn’t invited,” Rose said. “That’s another bit of folklore that vampires share with the Fair Folk. It ultimately boils down to both being very closely adherent to following rules, which means that a vampire cannot enter a building they have not been invited into. There are of course dozens of loopholes they can use, but none were available to Sinestra, and so she was forced to wait out in the rain, until she sincerely apologized for that whole mess with the werewolf. Quite a fair bit of retribution, I’d say, as well as a nice shifting of the power dynamics.”

“That’s an odd weakness to have.”

“Oh, there’s all sorts of mythology we have about inviting things in,” said Rose. “Vampires, fairies, the devil. In more xenophobic tales, you have the dangers of offering hospitality to dark forces we cannot understand, trying only to be kind, and being rewarded with death or worse for our foolishness. Yet, to add confusion, other stories warn against failing to offer hospitality, and being punished for crossing beings which could so easily destroy us. Still others caution against taking shelter under the wing, sometimes literally, of a being that could destroy us. “Will you walk into my parlor,” said the spider to the fly,’ and all that.”

“That sounds like a fantastic way for the fly to get itself eaten alive,” said Kanaya.

“Too right,” said Rose, “And the fly knows it. But the spider is charming, he acts sweet and offers her flattery and gifts, and she is drawn in…and inevitably eaten. Charmingly dark little poem, that one.”

“I fear I can relate to the poor fly,” Kanaya winced. “I’ve had my fair share of mistakes in that regard…Still, what an odd thing to have so many stories based on.”

“What can I say? We’re a curious lot,” Rose said.

“Curious?”

Rose scooted slightly closer to Kanaya, and winked gently as she added, “There’s something so deeply intriguing to the thought of inviting some strange, mysterious being from worlds unknown into your home. The danger only makes it more…exciting.”

Kanaya blushed slightly, and gulped. “Yes, well,” she said, smoothing the wrinkles on her skirt, “I suppose, that’s, um…Hm. Didn’t you just finish telling me a human story about how flattery is to be regarded with caution? I’m not the one in a stranger’s house, here.”

Rose chuckled. “‘Sweet creature,’” she quoted, “‘You’re witty and you’re wise!’ And just as dangerous to me as I might be to you, I would think. You may have come into my parlor, but it’s still we who have asked in a mysterious stranger from worlds unknown. And a very lovely one, no less.”

“I don’t know whether to be charmed or terrified,” said Kanaya, coy.

“I’d say —“ Something crashed in the basement, interrupting Rose and bringing a scowl to her face. “God dammit, Dirk,” she muttered. “We may have to finish this tomorrow, I’m afraid. I need to make sure my dear brother hasn’t blown one of his robots and/or himself to smithereens.”

“Oh, dear,” said Kanaya. “Best of luck, then. I’d be glad to chat again any time, so long as you promise not to trap me in any spider’s web,” she said with a smile.

Rose smiled back and winked.

It was a little over halfway through May, Dirk was driving himself and Rose home from school on what was his last day of the semester (Rose still had another week), and he was fucking exhausted. Three hour finals were an absolutely monstrous concept. As soon as he got home, he was going to collapse on his bed downstairs and sleep like the fucking dead.

That plan was, to his irritation, derailed as they pulled up on the gravel driveway to the sight of Dave on the roof. He was looking at Karkat, who was standing below and shouting up at him. Kanaya was standing near Karkat, with her head cradled in one hand.

“Just do that fucking bullshit flicker thing already!”

“Not with my — ow, Jesus, you fucking furball, I’m trying to — my arms are full of angry animal here, Karkat, I’m not going to risk breaking my fucking LEGS, Jesus Christ he fucking bit me, ow ow ow, fuck!” Dave shouted back. “Just — motherfuck, ow ow ow, just go dig a goddamned ladder out of the garage or something! Preferably before Dirk getsssssshit he’s home, fuck, fuck, fuck ow goddamned cat —!!”

Dirk, halfway out the car door, exchanged an exhausted look with Rose. She shot him a look of mixed amusement and sympathy.

Dirk sighed and closed the car door behind him, Rose following close behind as he strode toward the trolls. He gestured up at Dave, his eyebrow crooked in a question.

“Jaspers apparently got himself trapped on the roof,” Kanaya explained, as Karkat continued shouting at Dave, who had gone quiet. “Dave somehow got himself onto the roof to rescue him, except apparently Dave is now also trapped up there.”

“He says he can’t do the fucking flickery teleport thing —“

“Flashstep,” Dirk said, interrupting Karkat.

“Whatever, fine. He can’t flashstep because the cat keeps attacking him?” Karkat said, incredulously. The statement was highlighted by another yelp from Dave.

“Makes sense,” Dirk said. “It’s not really teleporting, just moving really fast. You gotta be really careful about how you do it between different elevations, and it’s asking for trouble to attempt a jump from that height with both hands full. Especially if what you’re holding is being really distracting.”

“Should we get the ladder out, then?” Rose commented dryly. “I’m sure you could handle it, but you are so tired, after all.”

Dirk didn’t let himself react to the barbed comment. “I can handle it,” he said. There was a tree near the wall by Dave; it was an easy matter to use it and the wall to bounce up to the roof. Three quick flashsteps and he was next to his brother, who reacted with a jolt.

There was blood visible dripping down his hands and seeping through his shirt sleeves. Cat really had done a number on him, then. Dirk sighed, too tired to fully register the way the soft breath made Dave stiffen, and took the cat from him. Jaspers, upon realizing he was no longer being held by Dave, but instead a human he considered more trustworthy, settled down and let Dirk carefully shift him to his shoulder.

“Meet me in the kitchen,” Dirk said, before carefully flashstepping down the same way he’d gotten up. Back on the ground, he handed the cat off to his sister, who cradled the animal, stroking his fur soothingly. Dave, after a moment’s hesitation, turned around, stepped backward off the roof (eliciting a shocked gasp from Kanaya and a worried yelp from Karkat), easily caught the windowsill leading into his own room on the way down, and pulled himself in.

Dirk hurried into the house, making a beeline for the hall bathroom. He’d need the first aid kit, for sure; Dave’s arms had gotten pretty beat up, from the look of things. He arrived in the kitchen just as Dave came silently down the stairs. Dave was fidgeting, shifting his weight from foot to foot and clenching and unclenching his hands.

“I never left the house,” he said, quietly. “I’m—I’m sorry for being up there, but I didn’t leave the house, I swear, I got up there from my window, and, the cat wouldn’t stop meowing and I felt bad for him, and —“

“Good,” said Dirk, quietly, “I’m glad you never left the house. That’s not really important right now, though. Let me see your arms.”

“…Am I in trouble?”

“For trying to get the cat off the roof? Of course not,” Dirk said. “Give me your arm, though. Gotta get it cleaned off. Cat scratches have a nasty tendency of getting infected.”

“Oh,” said Dave, “fan-fucking-tastic.” He still hesitated a long moment before holding his right arm out; Dirk took him by the wrist and gently pulled him toward the sink (and couldn’t help but notice the white scars crisscrossing his skin underneath the fresh wounds, nor could he ignore how worryingly thin Dave’s arm seemed. Dirk had to take a deep breath to force down the rush of anger toward their father to keep focused on the task at hand). He ran a cloth under the water for a moment, then carefully wiped the blood away from Dave’s wounds. They weren’t as bad as they’d looked on the roof, but Jaspers had definitely done a number on Dave. As gently as he could manage, Dirk toweled off Dave’s arm, and reached for the bottle of disinfectant.

“This is gonna sting a little,” Dirk murmured, dabbing the disinfectant on one of the wounds. Dave nearly jerked his arm out of Dirk’s grasp. “Sorry. I’ll be fast,” Dirk promised, and Dave nodded numbly.  Cleaning finally done, Dirk started bandaging each scratch (and the one bite on Dave’s wrist).

“Really keep an eye on that one,” he said, gesturing at the bite. “Bites are even worse when it comes to cats, you can’t be too careful.”

Dave nodded mutely. Dirk was vaguely aware that the others had come in, and that Karkat watching him with an odd expression. He paid the troll no mind.

Dirk inspected Dave’s arm one last time, and, satisfied, said, “Other one,” releasing Dave’s wrist.

Dave hesitated even longer this time, and his hand shook a little as he offered it. When Dirk grabbed his left wrist, Dave flinched away hard.

“Hey, you okay?” Dirk asked, concerned.

“Y-yeah,” Dave mumbled. “Sorry, it’s, uh, reflex.” He offered his arm again, and Dirk tried holding it a little higher up this time.

As he was cleaning off and bandaging the wounds, Dirk noticed a particularly bizarre looking scar running up Dave’s left wrist; it had marks like the wound had been stitched shut, but they were messy, haphazard, and the skin all around it looked…off. Pinched and warped in a way that looked uncomfortable. Dirk nodded his head toward it.

“The hell happened with that?” he asked.

“Um,” Dave mumbled, “Got caught off guard once, and my hand got cut, and, uh. I wouldn’t stop bitching about it, ‘cuz I was worried about losing my drawin’ hand, an’ shit, so Br- fuck, uh, Dad called in a buddy of his who stitched it up. It took a really long time to heal, even stitched up, and, uh.” He shrugged. “I still can’t use it much. Wound up fucking it up worse with stitches, so good job on me for complaining, there’s a self goddamn fulfilling prophecy for you. Can’t hold a fuckin’ pencil with it anymore, or anything smaller’n a sword hilt, really.”

Dirk paused. “…Shit,” he said softly. Then, louder, “Well, when you’re off house arrest, I can talk to Mom about it. There’s no guarantee, but I’d imagine that might be fixable with surgery. Once we can get you into a doctor, it’s worth a shot.”

“….You think so?”

“It’s possible.” He put on the last bandage, then made another once-over. “Alright, that’s the last of them,” he said. “Again, keep an extra eye on the bite, infected cat bites are not something you wanna ignore.”

“……Got it,” Dave said, softly, rubbing at his wrist. “Can I…”

“You can head upstairs if you want. I just wanted to make sure the scratches got cleaned.”

“Thanks,” Dave muttered, and darted upstairs. Karkat, after a long, hard look at Dirk, followed after.

Dave settled into his room after the cat incident, more confused than ever. He’d…really been expecting that to be it. Dirk’s expression taking Jaspers down from the roof had been the one Dave had long since learned to recognize on Bro as the ‘you’re about to get your fucking ass kicked’ face. When he was pissed enough to actually look the slightest bit pissed, that’s when Dave knew he’d crossed the last line, but.

Dirk had said he’d done nothing wrong.

He’d been gentle. What the fuck.

Dave sat on his bed and stared at his arms. He’d been assuming he’d be taking care of the scratches on his own, same as he’d always dealt with his own wounds, that he’d have to figure out where the first aid kit was kept in this house without bleeding everywhere or worst case scenario make do with toilet paper. He’d not been expecting Dirk to call him downstairs not to be punished, but to patch the wounds up.

What the fuck.

Maybe no one here was going to hurt him. Even if he fucked up.

No, that was too optimistic, probably. It was probably just because he hadn’t actually broken any rules. Couldn’t let wishful thinking take him on too many flights of fantasy, or he’d wind up all kinds of fucked. Be off in fuckin’ Narnia while the Witch of the West is happily taking over the big green city, except the city would be Dave’s ass and ‘taking over’ would mean ‘beating the shit out of’.

Still, it was….weird.

(Despite his best efforts to keep himself realistic, a tiny, rebellious spark of hope flared up, warmer than anything he’d felt in a long time.)