Work Text:
The kid’s stinging red cheek hits the floor with a slap, almost as sharp a sound as the one just made when Karkat punched him in the face. The room is quiet for a split second, and then a soft murmur rises around the strife.
“Aaaaaahhh.” The disapproving sound grows in volume and voices, but the two boys only see the person in front of them.
Karkat’s lips are scrunched in an angry scowl, as intimidating as an eleven-year-old can make himself. His small hands are clenched into fists and his shoulders are stiff and hunched. His shaking voice finally breaks the silence between him and the boy on the floor.
“He’s not a weirdo. You can’t talk about him. You’re just a dummy.”
“I am not!” the boy protests. “And he is! Weirdo! Freak! He dresses like a girl! Boys aren’t supposed to do that!”
Karkat grits his teeth and growls. “Take it back!”
“No!”
Karkat yells and throws himself onto the boy, flailing in an attempt to hurt his offender, but soon feels larger hands pulling him away. Two adults lead him and the boy out of the lunchroom, while kids around them still twist to try to see if any more fighting will occur. Karkat walks with the adult, but doesn’t allow his scowl to fade from his face. He keeps an eye on the boy beside him, who is doing his best to look like a victim.
They are led to the main office and sat down in a separate room, where two more adults are waiting. The adults direct them to sit down at two desks on opposite sides of the room.
Karkat feels nervous looking at the principal and the safety officer, but when he catches sight of the boy again, he puffs up his lips and crosses his arms defiantly.
“Listen boys,” the principal says sternly. “I want you both to tell me what happened, one at a time. No interruptions. Justin?”
“He started it!” Justin cries, pointing at Karkat.
“What? No, I didn’t!”
“Karkat, you can talk once Justin is done.”
“He did! I wasn’t doing anything to him and he started hitting me! He hates me! I hate him!” He pounds his hands on the desk surface firmly to cement his argument.
“Okay, now Karkat? Why did you hit him?”
“He hates me,” Justin reminds them in a hushed voice, leering at Karkat.
“He said Dave was a weirdo!” Karkat says, feeling angry tears prick at his eyes at the memory. “He said he’s freaky for wearing a skirt! I told him to stop it and he didn’t and I hit him because he was laughing.” He clenches his fists again and glares at the desk, not wanting to look at anyone.
“He is freaky!” Justin shouts back. “Girls wear skirts!”
“He doesn’t have to be a girl to wear them if he wants to!” Karkat snaps.
“Yes he does! If he likes being a girl so much than why doesn’t he be a girl!”
“He’s a boy!”
“Then he should wear pants!”
“You can’t tell him that! You don’t even know him!”
The safety officer leads Justin out of the room to the nurse’s office. Karkat sits and looks at his desk while the principal says things about how he shouldn’t hit people when they make him upset and he should talk to people instead. Karkat doesn’t say anything, still trying to make sense of why Justin was saying those things about Dave.
“Mister English?” he says hesitantly.
“What?”
“It’s not weird. Dave isn’t weird.” He picks at his fingernails. “He’s my best friend.”
“You should also make friends who go to the school, Karkat.”
“I know.”
“Try and talk to more people this summer.”
Karkat chews on his lips. “Okay.”
When his dad comes to pick him up, Karkat stands next to him and listens to the safety officer say a lot of things about them being lucky it’s the last day of school and how his dad will have to go to a conference with Karkat about his behavior later.
Karkat buries his face against his dad’s stomach and doesn’t say anything. His dad holds a protective arm around his shoulders while they are lectured. Finally, his dad signs something that Karkat can’t see because he’s too short and they can leave. As they walk out of the office, Karkat notices Justin leaving the nurse’s office and sticks out his tongue at him, quick enough to keep anyone else from seeing but long enough for Justin to notice and scowl.
Karkat’s dad doesn’t say anything until they get to his pickup.He buckles the seat belt and waits for Karkat to do so as well, but doesn’t start the engine. Instead, he folds his hands in his lap and watches Karkat’s face. “So they told me what happened—”
“It wasn’t—”
“—but I want to hear from you what really happened.” He says patiently. Karkat stumbles with his words and breathing for a while and looks at everything in the truck except his dad.
“Justin said that Dave was weird. For wearing skirts.”
“Okay.”
“That made me mad because Dave doesn’t even go to the school and Justin shouldn’t be making fun of him or saying mean things about him because he can’t fight back.” Now the tears are starting to come. He rubs hard at his eyes.
“…”
“So I told Justin to stop it but he wouldn’t, so I hit him and he wouldn’t say sorry and I wanted to hit him again but they took us to the principal’s office.” Karkat bites at his lips and hunches his shoulders and looks at the floor of the truck through his fingers.
He jumps when he feels his dad’s hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
“What?”
His dad sighs and pulls him as close as the seat belts will allow. Karkat blinks in confusion.
“You’re right. Justin is a silly. He shouldn’t say things about people like that. I’m sorry you had to get in trouble for trying to stand up for Dave. But you know you shouldn’t hit people.”
“…I know. But…” Karkat throws his arms around his dad and cries into his shoulder, voice becoming muffled as he dampens the soft cloth of the shirt. “But Justin was doing something bad too, right? He was doing something bad to Dave. And I wanted to do something bad back to him, because that’s fair, right?”
“It’s fair, but it’s not right. You can’t hit people, Karkat. Even if they’re being mean to Dave.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
Karkat’s dad holds him tight for a few minutes while the buses leave. Then he lets go, wipes at his face and starts the truck. “Let’s just go home for now, okay, Karkat? Mr. Strider said Dave would be coming over today. We need to get you cleaned up before that. You’ve got yuck from the floor on your clothes.”
Karkat can’t help a smile from growing on his face. “We’re just going to get dirty today. He promised me he’d bring his bike over.”
Karkat’s dad chuckles. “Okay, okay. So you boys are going to be out in the woods all afternoon?”
“Yeah!” Karkat bounces in his seat. He puts his hand on his chin and his elbow up against the window, even if it is a little higher than feels comfortable. He watches the trees and buildings go by until the truck turns off onto a gravel road. They continue along the bumpy road, the trees getting closer together and the houses getting farther apart. Birds fly past their car and squirrels race away from the truck when it nears them. Karkat hears a familiar dog barking, even through the glass window.
They reach the end of the road and Karkat’s dad pulls into a carport in front and slightly to the side of a moderately-sized, light-gray, one-story house. There is already a motorcycle parked in front of the house, and the porch swing right beside the door is gently swaying, holding two blond people, one much smaller than the other.
Karkat is unbuckling his seat belt and pulling on the door handle before his dad finishes parking the car. He jumps down from the truck and runs around the back of the vehicle to the front porch. Dave has stood up off the swing and is hopping down the porch stairs.
Karkat tackles Dave and they hug fiercely for a moment. Karkat eventually lets Dave go, though Dave clings onto him for an extra split second. Karkat looks back at the motorcycle and his face falls.
“So did you not bring your bike?”
Dave smirks, cocking his head so the sun gleams off his shades in that cool way he knows makes Karkat grin. “Bro brought it. He had it bungy-cabled to his shoulders. It was kinda freaky coming here, but also really cool.”
Karkat’s mouth falls open. “No way!”
Dave points at his Bro, who—sure enough—is holding Dave’s red bike over his shoulder. He waves at Karkat before setting the bike down on the porch.
“Hi, Mr. Strider,” Karkat waves back.
His dad walks past him and Dave and invites Dave’s bro inside. They pause at the door and Karkat’s dad calls back to him. “I’ve got your things, Karkat. You can go ahead and play now if you want. Just make sure you’re back for dinner.”
“Hey, Dave,” Dave’s bro adds, “You’re staying the night, right?”
Dave nods. “Yes.”
“Okay. I’m leaving your stuff with Mr. Karkat’s Dad.”
Karkat smiles eagerly. He grabs Dave’s hand and they run to the porch so Dave can get his bike. Then Karkat walks beside Dave, pushing his bike astride him to the carport where Karkat’s bike is waiting. Karkat opens a large plastic box and takes out two helmets, passing one to Dave.
Only at this moment does he care to look at what Dave is wearing, and an odd feeling hits him.
Besides his ever-present cool pointy shades, Dave has a logo-free white T-shirt with red sleeves on over an almost-knee-length plain white skirt. Karkat is wearing a black T-shirt with a blue crab over dark red shorts. Karkat’s smile fades as he remembers the fight with Justin.
After fastening his helmet, Dave notices Karkat’s saddened face and freezes. “What happened?”
Karkat twists his face into a scowl and puts his own helmet on. “Justin said stupid things at school and I hit him and got in trouble.”
“What did he say?”
Karkat climbs onto his bike, intending to start pedaling away into the woods behind the house, but Dave catches his sleeve and sticks his head in his face.
“What? Tell me.”
Karkat sucks on his lips. “He said mean things about you.”
Dave’s mouth opens a tiny amount. “Oh.” He lets go of Karkat but the other boy doesn’t leave yet. Karkat looks at Dave, expecting to see him upset.
Dave is smiling brightly. Karkat gazes at him in wonder. “Justin is stupid anyway,” he explains. “He’s so stupid he thinks six really is afraid of seven. And…and he’s so stupid that he has to ask for the number for 911.”
Karkat laughs and Dave pats him on the shoulder. “Yeah, he’s so stupid that… um… that he’s going to have to retake all of elementary school because he’s stupid and he doesn’t know how to be nice to people.”
“He doesn’t have an awesome best friend like you do,” Dave points out. Karkat bobs his head enthusiastically.
They push off towards the woods together.
Halfway down the beaten path to a pond about an eighth of a mile into the woods, Karkat lets Dave go in front of him, pumping the pedals at a steady pace to keep up. They pass by fallen trees, occasional large rocks that they have to maneuver around, and mounds of roots below massively tall trees reaching far up into the sky. The trees here are thick, but not close enough yet to block out the sunlight, which streams down in filtered patches, making their pathway checkered dark and lighter black-brown.
They see more light from farther up ahead and race faster, though they keep their positions one behind the other.
They break through into a large dusty clearing, with a rather murky pond at the near end and a open space on the far end. Dave leads Karkat along the solid-ground edge of the pond to the far side and they begin to slow down. Dave eventually comes to a stop in front of a half-stick, half-mud fort built on the edge of the field, framed by a grove of tall saplings. An old brown camouflage tarp hangs over it, partially shielding it from the elements. Dave dismounts his bike and gently leans it against one of the saplings. Karkat does the same, leaning his black bike against Dave’s red one.
Without taking his helmet off, Dave grabs Karkat’s hand and they run to the edge of the pond. They climb carefully onto a large board balanced between four boulders that Dave and Karkat had rolled into the pond two years ago strictly for the purpose of building a dock for their stick-and-leaf ships that all inevitably sank, making Karkat mope for half a day. This had prompted Karkat’s dad to get them two remote-controlled boats that they played with for half the summer until the batteries died when the boats were engaged in an epic battle in the center of the pond. Dave’s bro had gone in to fish the boats out, but instead of bother with changing batteries, Dave and Karkat had started gathering sticks for a fort.
The same fort which they have just left their bikes at, which they rebuild every time after it rains.
Dave kneels on their dock and stares down into the murky water, squinting even with his shades on. Karkat peers down too, almost losing his balance and falling into the water. Dave pulls him back and throws an arm over his back to keep him in place.
“There they are,” Karkat whispers, pointing at a clearish clump in the water several feet away from their dock. Dave looks and sees a softball-sized mass of tiny, gooey, translucent eggs with little black dots in the center of each. “You think they’re going to hatch at the same time as last year?”
Dave takes his arm off Karkat and lays down flat on his stomach, watching the mass of frog eggs even though they were doing nothing but existing. “I don’t know. Maybe. I bet they’ll try to hatch when we’re not here. They’re sneaky like that. Remember last year?”
Karkat racks his mind, trying to think back. He looks up at the trees across from them on the other side of the pond. “Yeah,” he says, still coming up with an answer. “They hatched while I was at your place?”
Dave rocks his head from side to side, chin resting on his arms. “We were on vacation with Bro. He took us to the zoo and that museum with all the planes. I think it was a few days. And when we came back there were—like—a million baby frogs everywhere. Your dad told us to be careful where we walked cause we might step on them.”
Now Karkat remembers. He looks back down at the frog eggs and imagines all of them turning into those little tiny frogs, hopping all around the pond and the clearing. He smiles and scoots over to rest half on top of Dave, eliciting a small “oof” from his friend.
“Are you going to tell John and Rose and Jade about the frogs?”
Dave twists under Karkat’s weight. His elbow is digging into his back. “Yeah, of course. John’s been asking what we do during the summer and I said I’d get a camera and take pictures for him and send them to him and Rose and Jade.”
“Huh,” Karkat murmurs. He hasn’t seen what Dave’s new internet friends look like yet. Dave keeps promising to introduce him to them soon. Apparently he got on this pesterchum site where he met some other kids their age and he’s been talking with them for a few weeks whenever Karkat’s away at school. Karkat knows it’s probably really boring being homeschooled and stuck at home all the time, so he’s happy that Dave isn’t so bored anymore.
And it’s not like talking with those guys is affecting his time with Dave.
He suddenly thinks of what the principal said earlier, about finding other friends who go to school with him. He furrows his eyes stubbornly. He doesn’t want other friends. He just wants Dave.
Dave is tired of Karkat’s elbow in his back, so he flips over and Karkat falls off him.
“Let’s play Knights,” he says, shielding his eyes from the light of the sun overhead to look into Karkat’s face. Karkat brightens again and gets up, then reaches down to pull Dave to his feet. Dave brushes the dirt off his shirt and skirt, and then picks several small bits of dead leaves off his legs. Karkat brushes dirt off him, but doesn’t spend as much time as Dave. He sprints back to their fort and climbs inside.
Dave follows and Karkat emerges with two large sticks. Karkat is sucking on his lower lip. “I think we used the swords to build the fort last time we fixed it. This wasn’t my sword.”
Dave takes one of the sticks. Neither of them are the sticks they use as swords, but they’re almost the same size. He shrugs. “Eh, it doesn’t matter.” He holds it in both hands and points it at Karkat. “En garde!”
Karkat smirks and swings his stick at Dave’s stick.
They smack at each other’s sticks, shouting things that they think sound knightly—though sometimes they just delve into counting points in a skewed system or pretending they have magical shields and wizards defending them. After a while, their hands are too numb from holding something that has been battering against an object propelled by an equal force, and they throw their sticks back into their fort.
Dave slumps down onto the ground of their fort and Karkat sits next to him. Dave sighs, panting and leans against Karkat’s shoulder.
“I’m thirsty,” he says after they catch their breath.
Karkat hums in agreement. “Me too.”
“Do you still have a bottle of water on your bike?”
“I think so.” Karkat crawls out of the fort and sighs in relief when he sees that his dad has refilled the bottle connected to the frame of his bike. He makes his way to his bike on his knees, undoes the latch holding the bottle onto the metal, and hobbles back into the fort.
He pops the top off with his teeth and hands the bottle to Dave.
“Thanks.” Dave says. He takes the bottle and sucks water from it for a few seconds, and then hands it back to Karkat. The water is a little warm, but it is just what he needs.
Karkat takes a long gulp from the bottle and pushes the top closed again with his lips. He sets the bottle on the ground and lays on his back, eyes closed.
“I won,” he declares.
“No,” Dave protests. “I won.”
“You won the race here. I get to win the swordfight.”
“Fine. You win the swordfight, but I’m still a better Knight.”
“No, the Knight who wins the swordfight is automatically the best Knight.”
“Says who?”
“Says everyone.”
Dave leans against one of the saplings that serve as a skeleton for their fort. “That’s not true.”
“It is.”
“No it’s not.”
“Yes it is.”
“No one more time than you’ll ever say.”
“Yes times infinity!” Karkat sits up quickly.
Dave smiles triumphantly. “Too bad. I already said one more time than you. So I’m still infinity plus one.”
“Aww,” Karkat whines. “Whatever. I don’t even care.”
Dave basks in his victory for a moment and then pulls Karkat to his feet. “Let’s ride around the pond. I’ll let you win.”
Karkat is already running to their bikes. “I’d win anyway, Dave! You’re just saying that so you don’t feel bad when you lose!”
“I can still beat you!” Dave protests. Karkat is a few yards away now, waiting for him to get on his bike. “I just want to make you feel better.”
Karkat speeds away as soon as Dave’s butt touches the seat of his bike. Dave pushes on his pedals as hard as he can in a valiant effort to catch up. He passes Karkat on their second loop of the pond, stays ahead of him just enough to hear Karkat shout out in frustration and then lets his best friend pass him again. They make six more loops before Karkat complains that he’s tired of going around in a circle. Dave points out that it’s like Nascar and tells him they can pretend the fort is a pit stop.
Karkat likes that idea and they stop at the fort again so Dave can get off his bike and find a rock that looks like it could pump gas into Karkat’s bike. Karkat makes car noises as he bikes around the pond again. He stops at the fort and Dave makes chugging noises, poking the back of his bike with a rock that looks like an egg. As Karkat makes another lap, Dave shouts back at him, cheering and encouraging him to pass the other imaginary cars.
This continues for three more laps. Dave picks up a bendy stick and waves it back and forth on Karkat’s next lap.
“And he passes the finish line! Karkat wins! He wins a thousand dollars and a new car and a whole year of ice cream!” Karkat cheers himself and slows down, circling back to the fort.
“Whew,” he breathes, panting. “That was fun.” He sits down again and Dave claps his hands after setting the rock and the stick back down onto the ground. Karkat eyes them for a moment.
“You know, that rock looks like an egg,” he mutters.
“Yeah, doesn’t it?”
“Do you think it has a dinosaur in it?”
Dave looks back at the speckled dirt-covered rock. “Maybe.”
“Where did you find it? Maybe there’s more.”
Dave shrugs. “I don’t know, it was just here.”
Karkat grabs the rock and presses it to his ear. “I don’t hear anything inside it. It’s asleep.”
Dave walks out of the fort and grabs an armful of dead leaves. “We can make a nest for it. If its mom comes back, we’ll tell her where it is.”
“Where are we going to put the nest?”
“In our fort. It’s safe here.”
“Okay.” Karkat moves aside so Dave can drop the leaves in a corner of the fort. He helps him arrange them into a pile and they stick the rock/egg on top. Dave lays down in front of it, staring at it with a small smile. Karkat lays beside him.
“If it hatches at the same time as the frogs, it’s still going to be the big brother because dinosaurs are older than frogs.”
“What if it’s a girl?”
“Then it’s a big sister.”
“What if it’s a t-rex?”
“Don’t those come in boys and girls?”
“They come in big and cool.”
“Then it’s still the big…uh,” Dave thinks hard to remember the word. “Sibling.”
“And we’re the parents?”
“That’s right. But we’re both dads.”
“Sure!”
Karkat sits up and Dave rolls onto his back. He bends his knees to make himself more comfortable and his skirt slips down his thighs a few inches. If Karkat looks, he can see Dave’s animal pawprint underwear. But he isn’t looking. He’s looking at the little smile on Dave’s face and his own smile lights up even brighter when he sees Dave’s eyes look at him. Dave turns his head and the shades hide his eyes again. He sticks out his hand and Karkat grabs it softly with his own.
"This summer’s going to be great, Karkat."
"Yeah, Dave."
They put Karkat’s water bottle back on the bike and walk their bikes along another path until the sky starts to turn orange and red. Dave reluctantly begins leading Karkat back towards Karkat’s back yard.
As they roll their bikes into the grass, they notice a tent set up about twenty feet away from the back porch. Karkat and Dave stare at it for a moment and then pass it to rest their bikes and their helmets on the back porch. Karkat opens the door and holds it open for Dave. They walk into the living room and see the dining area to their left already set up for three.
“Hey, Dad,” Karkat announces. “We’re back!”
Karkat’s dad emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.
“Boys,” he says with a beaming face. “Dinner’s ready. Mac and cheese, plus carrots and celery. And I have no-cheese mac for you, Karkat. Can you two wash your hands before we all sit down?”
Karkat groans and walks Dave across the room to the bathroom. He pulls on the tap and warm water rushes out. They dampen their hands, squirt soap onto their palms, and soon begin a silent competition of who could make the most bubbles on their hands.
And wrists.
And arms.
Dave reminds Karkat that they’re washing their hands for dinner and they rinse the brown-gray soap lathered on their arms. They both wrestle for the same fluffy pink towel and only succeed in drying themselves off halfway.
“Are you drowning in the sink?” Karkat’s dad calls.
“No!” They reply at the same time. They emerge from the bathroom, rubbing their damp arms on their rather dirty clothes, further smudging them, and take places at the table at the two settings on one side of the table. Karkat’s dad brings out two dishes of macaroni, one of them lactose-free for his son, and the other heaped with cheese for himself and Dave. He comes back with another bowl of raw carrots and celery, and an ice-cold pitcher of apple juice.
As they help themselves to the food and juice, Karkat asks, “Are me and Dave staying in the tent outside?”
“I thought that would be a fun thing for you to do,” his dad explains. He winks at them. “I have the couch cushions and the extra comforter out there, plus your blankets and pillows, Karkat. You can share them with Dave.” He pauses to chew on a mouthful of celery. “I have the camping lamp and a flashlight out there too. But I don’t want you boys staying up too late. No reading tonight, Karkat. Dave, your brother is picking you up in the morning.”
“Okay,” Dave says.
As they finish dinner, Karkat and Dave alternate telling Karkat’s dad what they did while out in the woods. Karkat’s dad insists on checking them for ticks after dinner, and then fills a bath for them, making sure there is a thick layer of bubbles for them to play with. They crawl into the tub together, bumping each other with knees and elbows.
Karkat gives Dave a long look as the other is loading bubbles onto his face to look like a man with a beard.
“Hey, Dave?”
“What?”
“We’re not weird.”
Dave is silent. “…Did someone say we were?”
“No.”
Dave sends Karkat a long look, but Karkat is idly making a mountain out of the bubbles in front of him. “You’re my best friend. And I’m your best friend. It doesn’t matter what other people say.”
“I know.”
Soon after the water turns lukewarm and Dave and Karkat have declared war on each other’s bubble-countries, splashing at each other, Karkat’s dad knocks on the door, telling them to dry off and get ready for bed.
Once again, they wrestle each other for a single large fluffy white towel. Dave finally relents and lets Karkat use it, though by this point, it’s already damp. He takes a less-fluffy white towel and finishes drying himself off. They wrap themselves in the towels to make them look like fluffy white robes and open the door to Karkat’s room, where Dave’s overnight bag is resting on the blanket-less bed.
They drop their towels and change into pajamas, Dave’s being light red covered with black bird silhouettes and Karkat’s light gray covered with green aliens. They go back to the bathroom and brush their teeth, and then scurry excitedly outside. Karkat’s dad follows them and unzips the tent for them.
“Good night.”
“Night, Dad.”
“Night, Mr. Vantas.”
“If you need anything, just come inside and wake me up.”
“We will.”
Karkat and Dave listen to the door close. Karkat’s dad dims the back porch light. They wait almost a whole minute, only hearing the sound of the other breathing.
Karkat carefully unzips the window of the tent and they climb out, carrying the flashlight with them. They lay side by side on the soft grass, staring up at the stars.
“It’s nicer seeing them at your house,” Dave tells Karkat. “Mine is too close to roads and other big lights.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Karkat hums.
“If you see a shooting star, tell me, so we can both make a wish.”
“Should we wish for the same thing, so it definitely comes true?”
“No. It’ll come true anyway. Stars are magical. They’re like wizards, but up in the sky.”
They strain their eyes for several long minutes, but don’t see any shooting stars.
“Is that one?” Dave points up at a blinking light moving across the sky.
“No, it’s a satellite. They take pictures of the things on the surface of the Earth and send them to scientists to learn more about things.”
“Okay, then smile for it!”
Dave nudges Karkat and they smile up at the blinking light until they can’t see it anymore. They then spend quite a bit of time trying to see shapes in the stars, but can’t agree on what exactly the shapes are.
Karkat yawns and Dave leads him back through the window of the tent. He zips it up and they curl up next to each other, soon finding a comfortable position and falling asleep.
.........................................
Karkat wakes up first the next morning. He wriggles out of Dave’s grip and watches him sleep for a minute or so.
Then he carefully unzips the door, rezips it as silently as he can and slips quietly into the house. He hurries to the kitchen and gets a plastic plate and puts a piece of banana bread that his dad made yesterday on it. He opens the refrigerator and finds an orange and some pieces of cooked bacon in a container. He takes them out and is about to put the bacon on a plate in the microwave, but realizes that the sound might wake up Dave. Instead, he puts them on the plate as they are. He takes out a cutting board and saws the orange in half with the only knife that he is comfortable using, which makes a bit of a mess, but he puts it in the dishwasher and wipes the knife with a paper towel and puts it back where he found it on the kitchen counter.
Karkat balances the plate of food in one hand and walks back to the tent outside, trying to unzip it as slowly as he can so he doesn’t wake up Dave. He crawls onto the messy mound of blankets and pillows, where Dave is still partially covered by a corner of a train design blanket.
Karkat switches hands and shakes Dave awake. “Hey, wake up.”
“Hmm?” Dave blinks slowly and sits up, red eyes adjusting to the light in the tent. “What?” He yawns, eyes squeezing shut and stretches his arms.
“I made you breakfast in bed.” Karkat announces, shoving the plate at Dave.
Dave stares at the plate in wonder. He takes it and holds it in his lap. “Wow, thanks,” he says, touched. He smiles, eyes shining at Karkat’s. He is about to pick up the orange, but he stops and sets the plate aside.
He leans towards Karkat and kisses him on the cheek. Karkat looks confused when he sits back and takes the plate back into his lap.
“What was that for?”
“You’re supposed to do that. I saw it in a movie.”
“Oh. I see.”
Dave hands one half of the orange to Karkat, breaks the banana bread in half and offers it to Karkat, and gives him some of the pieces of bacon. They sit across from each other and eat off the plate until all of the food is gone. Karkat then stands up, takes the orange rinds, and leaves the tent again to throw them towards the woods. They don’t even make it halfway, but neither of them says anything about it.
Karkat’s dad comes out and helps them carry the blankets back to Karkat’s room, and they change into day clothes while he breaks down the tent.
Dave is wearing light brown shorts under a black shirt with a white ninja shape on the bottom corner. Karkat changes into a dark blue shirt with a line of stars across the chest and long black shorts.
They sit on the pile of couch cushions and watch cheesy cartoons until the doorbell rings. Karkat goes to answer it and lets in Dave’s bro.
“Ready to go, lil man?”
Dave looks at Karkat. “Can Karkat come over?”
Dave’s bro shrugs at Karkat’s dad, who is sitting on the armchair, which is the only thing in the living room with its cushions attached. “I don’t see why not.”
“I’ll pick up Karkat after lunch,” Karkat’s dad promises.
Dave runs to the back to get his bike and brings it around to the front of the house, where his bro has parked his orange-brown pickup. He helps load the bike into the back and Karkat comes out with Dave’s bag. Dave sits in the front passenger seat and Karkat climbs into the back seat. He waves at his dad as they head off down the gravel road.
After a twenty-minute ride into the town, Dave’s bro stops at a small house and parks in the little garage connected to the house. He then jumps out, quickly grabs the bike and sets it in the corner. Dave and Karkat are almost at the door to the house.
They feel a sudden burst of water at their backs. They spin around indignantly and Bro is grinning at them, pointing a large water gun at them. Dave grabs Karkat’s hand and leads him to safety behind a workbench and crawls along the floor, narrowly dodging his bro’s shots. They reach a pair of empty water guns and Dave hands both to Karkat, telling him to run and fill them up while he distracts his brother.
Karkat waits carefully until he is given a window of opportunity by Dave and he sprints into the house, filling both up at the kitchen sink and snatching a plastic water bottle, shoving it into his pocket. He returns to Dave and they wage war on his bro, thoroughly soaking each other and laughing hard while doing so.
Of course, they run out of water and Dave’s bro sets his water gun down and walks into the house, coming back with two towels. He tosses them at Dave and Karkat, blinding them as soon as they walk through the door.
“You might want to switch into dry clothes,” he comments jokingly.
Dave rolls his eyes and pushes his pointy shades up so Karkat can see him doing it. “Thanks for the advice, Bro.”
“Good game, lil man. You too, Karkat.” He slumps into a chair, pretending he is not dripping and opens a map of Greenland, holding it sideways.
Dave leads Karkat into his room and pulls off his shirt and shorts, changing into a new, almost identical outfit to the one that was soaked, except this one had a man with a bow and arrows. Karkat takes one of Dave’s red and white shirts and while rooting through Dave’s bottoms drawer, halts when he comes across a black plaid skirt.
He hesitates, and then takes it anyway. Karkat finds it nice to sometimes copy Dave’s habit of occasionally wearing skirts, although he doesn’t do it at school. They are not as accepting or forgiving of unusual things, which still boggles Karkat’s mind.
Though, he has been acknowledging the labels of society for a while now. It doesn’t make sense and it’s not fair, but it’s necessary to try to follow the “norms” to “fit in.”
He still doesn’t like it.
Karkat sits on Dave’s bed, swinging his legs and liking the loose feeling of the skirt. It was fun being almost the same size as Dave, even if he was a little smaller and shorter.
Dave looks at the skirt that Karkat has borrowed. He doesn’t see anything wrong with it. He knows why other people see it as weird and wrong, but Bro is giving him a safe haven to be himself by homeschooling him. He still has friends and he still does normal things.
He’s normal. There’s nothing wrong with him.
The room is too quiet, so Dave goes to his bookshelf and picks up a book.
“This is still my favorite book ever,” he says as he puts it between himself and Karkat. Karkat reads the title.
“Love You Forever.”
Dave reads the book out loud to Karkat, who leans against him.
Karkat’s eyes close, because the book always makes him cry. He mouths the repeated phrase as Dave says it.
“I’ll love you forever. I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.”
Once Dave finishes and sets the book aside, Karkat turns his head to look up at Dave. He stretches up and kisses him on the corner of the mouth. He keeps his face close as he whispers:
“I’ll love you forever too, Dave.”