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kyliwrites · 6 years ago

Text

the exit's the other way

ship: davekat (no quadrant/all quadrants; established relationship)

prompt: "you know what!? fuck you. i'm out of here."

"*name.*"

"WHAT?!"

"the exit's the other way."

setting: earth c (canon universe/post-canon, no epilogues)

Your name is Dave Strider, and you are just the absolute god damned best at riling loud, insufferable aliens up to the brink of delirious rage. Because the way their gray cheeks flush and their eyes darken is so perfectly entertaining, you take it upon yourself to annoy them into paradox space and back.

Karkat, for example. All it takes is the bare minimum of poking and prodding at his favorite romcom actor and SHABAM. Little guy's all fuming and everything; you can see the puffs of smoke coming out his ears and the attractive way his fangs slide out over his lips. He's glaring in that wide-eyed furious way of his, anger hot enough to brand you right on the asscheek like a motherfucking cow. Moo, bitch.

You hardly insulted him, but Karkat's like that: hypersensitive, petty, an asshole, totally adorable when he's mad. He's got his flaws (who doesn't?), but with you, he doesn't try so hard to cover them up. You love him all the more for that.

Presently, he's ranting about the flaws and inaccuracies of some human film you alchemized into existence for him, and he's been doing so for approximately four minutes and twenty-seven seconds. You haven't been paying much attention, if you're being honest, because you've been too busy mentally recounting everything else about those four minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Why? Narrative reasons, yo.

You tune in at the last second and catch his metaphorical hands instead of the hilariously unironic picking apart of whichever movie you picked for him (you can't even remember at this point; you've spent all three years since the game ended finding progressively shittier films, if only so you can experience the pleasure that is Karkat's ranting).

"-and are you even FUCKING listening, douchenozzle!?" Comes Karkat's infuriated, raspy interjection. It throws you bodily from your thoughts, and you blink from behind your shades in an effort to clear your head.

"Nah," you answer honestly once you've regained your bearing. "Shit got more boring than watching American football with the boys on a rainy Saturday night. Dude goes in for a tackle and skids across the field tragically. Eight jocks in a row go flying and it's like a god damn bowling alley up in this bitch. The boys start swearing like some motherfuckers, but you, a renowned Football Connoisseur, shake your head solemnly rather than go batshit insane over the slip-n-slide conga line like, you know, a normal person. Football people, bro. No humor. No sense of irony."

"I understood approximately FUCKALL OF THAT, asshole. Speak English or Alternian, thanks a whole fucking lot. What gog damn language was that!?" Karkat looks you up and down with a scrunched up expression, as if deciding where to maim you first. You straighten involuntarily underneath his gaze.

"...S'called Texan, m'dude."

He recoils melodramatically. "Texan!? Is that a joke or some bullshit? Some kind of dead language you somehow learned? Where the fuck is the TEXAN and who came up with a name that hideous and disgusting?"

"No, Karks," you wheeze. "Texas. The people from Texas are Texans."

"Why do I care about your overcomplicated alien linguistics!? Answer my question, Strider," he demands, crossing his arms. His nails, bitten down yet still sharp and threatening, dig into his sweater.

"I'm from Texas, dude. You know how there were, like, different dialects on y'all's murderplanet? English is kind of like that. Texans have huge accents and are famous for being racists, people from Jersey are famous for being the shittiest people, Alabamians marry their relatives, etcetera etcetera."

After a moment of thought, Karkat nods seriously and says, "That explains why you're such a xenophobe."

You choke. Of all the things you'd been expecting him to say, it definitely wasn't that. You reply eloquently:

"W-what!?"

"You heard me. You fucking space racist."

"Oh my jesus shit, rude," you protest vehemently. "I am not space racist." Not anymore, at least.

Karkat flashes a rare fanged grin at you, his eyebrows lifted, and you realize he's only joking. The smile is gone as soon as it came, one of those blink-and-you-miss-it gifts. "Space racist." He nudges you with one elbow. You nudge him back.

"Dude," you say, "don't make this a thing."

He pushes you forcefully, hard enough for you to have to grip the arm of the sofa you're sitting atop to remain seated, in response. Oh, it is on.

You tackle him and he lets out a paralyzed squawk when you roll off the couch and into the floor. He lands on his back with an "oof," and you pin him down by the shoulders. He bares his teeth, but the smile breaking out over his face ruins the effect.

"Get off me, asshat, I'll fucking kneecap you," he barks, still grinning like an idiot.

"You won't." You're grinning like an idiot, too, to be fair, except yours is more fond than shit-eating. Dave Strider, maximum sap. Whod've thunk.

He surges forward suddenly, without warning, and uses his legs to flip you onto your back; it knocks all the air out of you, but you manage a cackle and a "fuck you" anyway. He pins your arms above your head and sits on your chest.

"Say fucking uncle, Strider."

"That's not how that game works!" You wheeze. "You don't even know what an uncle is!" He smirks—the sight makes your heart flutter like the cat getting showered in affection meme. The thought distracts you and you briefly ponder making a Karkat version, but you aren't given the reins to think very long because he flicks your nose.

"Ow! Dickhead, that hurt—"

"Dickhead yourself! Your fucking bony ribs are digging into my ass!" He wrinkles his nose and shifts, trying to find a more comfortable way to sit.

"What ass?" You demand in jest, which is the worst thing someone pinned beneath the person they are making fun of could possibly say. He narrows his eyes and you manage a "shit wait no" before he snatches his hands away.

You've lived together for all of three years, four months, and seventeen days. He knows your weaknesses as well as he knows his own, your fears, your discomforts. He knows what you like, love, and hate. He knows when to push and when not to push. He gets you better than anyone, even your own psychoanalytic twin sister (you'll have to blame that one on the fact that she and her wife don't leave their house unless they're going to the alien procreation cave).

So, that's why he decides to tickle you. Because he knows you throw an absolute shitfit when it comes to being tickled.

You hunch your shoulders when his hands descend upon you and try to roll yourself into a tight, impenetrable ball to escape his fingers, but he's fucking relentless. He knows how sensitive you are; it's the perfect revenge.

In between your wheezing laughs, you can barely manage words, but you cough out a "dude," "bro," and "dudebro," then, finally, "Karkat," before he pauses, rasps, "You did this to yourself," and raises his hands threateningly again.

You blurt, "Uncle! I'll say uncle just don't do it please dude I have never done anything wrong ever you know this right? I—"

He leans forward, silencing you. "Take that bullshit you said first back, Strider, or your plea to your human familial figure is null."

"Fine! Fine, I take it back. Listen, bro. You definitely don't not have an ass. Like, in fact, that ass is so ripe I can't believe anyone would ever accuse you of not having one. That's so fucking disrespectful. How dare those blind motherfuckers? I'm waving my fists at them right now. I will singlehandedly smite all Karkat's assphobes, my man. I'll raise my assphobe smiting trident and pulverize all these thotass sons of bitches right here, right now. I'll do it, I will. I'm no coward. I'll protect that magnificent rear with everything I have, dude. Those glorious buns. The assnihilator—"

"Shut the fuck up oh my gog I can't believe I fucking brought this upon myself." Karkat rolls off of you and clutches said glorious buns. Apparently your ribs really did hurt his ass. Huh.

"You did bring it upon yourself," you agree. And then, because you still aren't done pushing his buttons and want to be an insufferable piece of shit, "So, you didn't say what you thought of the movie."

He opens his mouth, clamps it shut hard enough for his teeth to clank together, repeats the motion a couple of times. "I—Dave—You fucking—No. You know what? Fuck you. I'm out of here."

You burst into the horrid laughter of a hyena when he scrambles to his feet in one furious motion; he's back to grumpy scowling and cussing you out in the amount of time it takes for the underpaid McDonald's employee working the back of the store to flip a shitty one hundred percent not-beef burger patty.

He stomps heavily away—in the direction of the kitchen, you note, which only makes you cackle harder when you realize he didn't do it on purpose.

"Oh my fucking jesus god. Karkat!"

"WHAT!?" He yells without facing you.

"The exit's the other way."

He comes to an abrupt halt, slowly turns around, and begins marching back, in the right direction this time.

You're too busy flailing on the couch (you can't even remember pulling yourself back onto it) to give a shit when he throws himself down beside you. You do, however, give tons of shits when he pulls you into a very exasperated smooch that simply screams "shut the FUCK up you absolute godless heathen of a space monkey."

You are not opposed to "shut the FUCK up you absolute godless heathen of a space monkey" smooches.

He draws back and rolls his eyes. "Are you done yet, bulgemuncher?"

You are, as established many times, an insufferable piece of shit, so you say, "Dunno. Do I get to kiss you again?"

"Not with that attitude you don't."

You kiss him anyway, because god dammit he's your boyfriend and you demand kissing rights. He doesn't protest; instead, he wraps his arms around your neck and relaxes, just a little.

You could stay in his arms forever, you think.

#davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #fluff #no epilogues #homestuck #fic

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kyliwrites · 6 years ago

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HELNIK

"I can't believe you don't like Disney movies."

Pairing: Nina x Matthias

Word Count: 2k+

Fluff or Angst?: Fluff

Oneshot?: Yes

Proofread?: No

Unsurprisingly, when Nina suggested a stay-at-home movie night, there was a good deal of discourse about which movies to watch. As usual, everyone had a certain Opinion™ about which Marvel films were trash and which were alright (which dissolved into a debate about Marvel vs. DC; poor Wylan was clueless and shrunk into the sofa when the choruses of “SPIDERMAN!” and “IRON MAN!” grew to a screaming match that became a pillow fight between Inej and Jesper). And most of all, Kaz’s choices were… well, they were a far cry from the general mood Nina had intended to set for the night.

All she’d wanted was a night of peace and relaxation, and maybe to shove everyone else off the sofa to cuddle with Matthias, but no one needed to know that part. The point was, she hadn’t planned on the utter chaos that her friends left in the wake of determining a movie to watch, though she probably should have.

Her entire living room was trashed.

“Did you guys really have to shred my favorite throw pillow?” Nina groaned, flicking a feather off of her sleeve with a pointed glare at Inej. The girl hoarded knives like a madwoman, and Nina had no doubt the mess of stuffing strewn across the navy carpeted floor was her doing.

“I’m sorry,” Inej said, ducking her head sheepishly and looking decidedly unsorry.

“Mmhm, sureeeee you are.” Nina glanced to Jesper, who sat covered in little white wisps of pillow insides. He grimaced and made an attempt at defending his honor, but Wylan spoke first.

“He deserved it. He threw one first,” he said, sounding unbothered by the catastrophe that had befallen Nina's apartment. He smirked at his boyfriend from where he’d curled up a safe distance away from the rough-housing. Kaz, leaning against the wall, raised his brows in dry, contented amusement.

“What!?” Jesper placed a hand on his heart, mock offended. “You wound me, merchling. Aren’t you supposed to jump to my defense? Go on, love, yell, 'He’s not to blame!’”

Satisfaction danced across Inej’s face as she slid off of the sofa and dusted feathers off of her leggings. “You’re the one who insulted Spiderman. You got only what you asked for.”

Matthias huffed out a breathy laugh and strode forward to wrap his arms around Nina. He placed a kiss to the top of her head. “Regardless. I’m sure we can all agree that the best superhero of all time is Thor.”

There had been a time when he would have recoiled at the very thought of such public displays of affection, back when he’d just immigrated to New York, but now it was their trademark. Where Nina and Matthias were, little whispers and giggles followed - bets on when they’d forego common decency and, point blank, start making out.

It never happened - well… not often, anyway. There was that one time when two of her managers had walked in on a somewhat passionate kissing session in the back of the restaurant Nina worked part-time at, but that was a story for another day (and a miracle that she wasn’t fired then and there). She didn’t like to think of Zoya’s disappointed face or Genya’s broad smirk at the moment… regardless of the fact that Zoya’s disappointed face was Zoya’s regular face and Genya always smirked.

Nina leaned back into Matthias’s embrace and smiled up at him with an, “In your dreams, Thunder Thighs” and a grin.

Amused exasperation replaced the sweet smile that had been on his face moments prior. “You’re all uncultured swine. Thor is the best superhero, and that’s that. You can’t change my mind.”

Jesper arched a brow. “That sounds vaguely like an invitation to change your mind. Ever heard of—” Inej smacked him with a pillow.

“You can’t seriously intend to argue yourself into another pillow fight, Jes,” Wylan retorted. He shifted away from Matthias, Inej, and Jesper, ever the pacifist.

Actually, that was a lie. He had once shoved Kuwei Yul-Bo into a garbage can on Broadway Street when he asked Jesper on a date—coincidentally, it was while Wylan and Jesper were on the way to see Kinky Boots. On a date.

Wylan was by no means a pacifist—it was more that he was currently done with everyone's shit

Nina sighed, knowing she was going to have to break apart World War III on her own. Kaz was watching them with narrow eyes, humor evident in his wry smile, and Matthias, Inej, and Jesper seemed ready to face off like it was a three-way nineteenth century Russian duel.

“Okay, guys, stop. No superhero is the best—”

All three offenders opened their mouths to object.

“—let’s stop arguing about Marvel and DC and… watch a Disney movie?”

Jesper and Inej closed their mouths, and after a moment, they nodded in reluctant agreement. Wylan beamed, and Kaz merely shrugged. He had a sadistic streak when it came to Disney—cracking jokes when Bambi’s mother died, pointing out continuity errors, essentially ruining their childhoods—the like. Nina had suspected he loved witnessing their discomfort from the moment he had the audacity to laugh at the scene in Pocahontas when John Smith was shot and say, “They died of STDs. Fucking idiots.”

But Matthias had never watched a Disney movie with them before - he was the only ‘yes’ left before they could get on with picking which movie (another battle to be waged later).

When Nina turned to gauge his reaction, a look of pure disgust and confusion was etched on his face. Disbelief sprouted across her own.

“Matthias… don’t tell me. You’ve never seen a Disney movie? What kind of household did you grow upon?”

He frowned. “We didn’t have Disney movies. My family does not support the company.” Nina caught her friends' gazes as they all rolled their eyes simultaneously.

“Let me guess, you were put to work the second you could lift your refrigerator at the tender age or six months,” Jesper drawled, leaning back on the sofa.

“I could not lift my fridge at the tender age of six.”

“Ohh, right. Your parents never taught you what a joke is. You have my sincere apologies, Thunder Thighs."

“Matthias,” Matthias corrected, but before this debate could get out of hand, Nina flung her arms out and shouted, “Well, this has been great and all, but is anyone concerned that Matthias has never, not once, seen a Disney movie?”

“No offense, but it’s not exactly on my bucket list, love.” Matthias brushed a strand of copper hair out of her eyes.

“Well, now it is on my bucket list to get you to watch a Disney movie. Oh, I’ve got it! Hercules. Since you’re the classics major.”

No one offered any objections, aside from an attempt from Matthias that was quickly silenced by a kiss on the lips from Nina that left him red-faced and speechless.

And thus, five minutes later, the lights had been flicked off and all (most) of the couples were not-so-discreetly cuddling. Inej and Kaz were… sort of sitting together underneath a hand-woven blanket, but that was as close as it got with those two. Nina counted it as a silent victory.

Wylan and Jesper were literally just spooning, and Nina’s head was in Matthias’s lap as the sounds of sweet mythological-themed jazz filled her ears. Bless these powerful African-American ladies for their roles as the Muses.

The peace didn’t last, of course, because their group was undeniably the most dysfunctional gang ever to exist.

"Hercules? You mean Hunkules!”

“That was the worst joke I have ever heard,” Matthias growled, making a face.

“Shhh, you oaf, you have to listen to the story.” Nina swatted his chin affectionately.

“I don’t want to listen to the story,” he insisted, rubbing at his stubble where he’d been Swatted. “I know it already. I’m majoring in classics.”

“Sh! Save it for later.”

He obeyed with an uneffected roll of his eyes.

She was surprised he’d managed to keep his biting remarks to himself throughout the introduction, but it wasn’t too much of a shocker when he started at Hades’s appearance on screen.

“That is not Hades. Tell me that’s not supposed to be Hades.”

“It’s supposed to be Hades.”

“That is wrong!”

“It’s a kids’ movie and he’s the villain, of course he looks wrong. Now shut up and watch it.”

Matthias let out a beleaguered sigh and cast his gaze back toward the television screen.

Most of the movie progressed uneventfully from that point onward, but during the ending, Matthias sucked in a breath and Nina just knew he was going to rant about the inaccuracy of a children’s movie and Greek myths for a solid twelve and a half minutes.

“First of all, why was Hades portrayed so *horrendously?*”

“You laughed at his jokes.”

“I laughed because they were stupid. But why was he so- so-”

“Gay?” Nina suggested with a wriggle of her brows.

Matthias’s neck was red with the determination of a man who was not going to back down from a fight. “Yes? Well…” He considered it for a moment. “No, that part was actually spot-on. All of the Greek deities were tragically bisexual—”

“Can I get a pin that says that? ‘Tragically bisexual?’” Jesper laughed.

“Make it yourself,” Matthias retorted and returned to his rant. If Nina was being honest, she tuned him out after the words, “scrawny golden white boy" were uttered, opting instead to watch his entire face move with his mouth.

It was addicting, seeing his eyes alight with passion and flare. He seemed so relentless, so full of emotion that he was bursting at the seams with it, and it was a relaxing change to what Nina was accustomed to seeing… the frigid, daunting mask of stoicism he wore around everyone else. It was why she’d fallen in love with him in the first place. He was strong, well-mannered, but most of all, he had conviction in his beliefs, a fire behind his ice that melted it into water—even if he hadn't always clung to the... correct... beliefs. He hadn't always been so open-minded.

She liked to believe that she'd somehow changed him, that the goodness in his heart had been stirred into awakening by her hand. That she'd made him a better man. That she'd taught him to love her as an equal. She liked to imagine that one day they might return to his family and spread what he'd learned. The Helvars were good people deep down, but uneducated in the ways that mattered—in the emotions and hardships of those less fortunate than them. They had prejudices of their own that Nina dreamed of helping them overcome... and some people had prejudices against them she wished to eliminate. Maybe these were the foolish ramblings of an optimist, but she had her hopes, and if they worked together they might overcome the biases of the world.

Nina cursed herself. Oh, this heart of hers. She was getting sappy in the midst of an argument about Disney.

“For God’s sake, Matthias,” Jesper was saying when she finally tuned back in, as exasperated as ever. “It’s Disney.”

“That’s precisely the problem." Matthias’s eyebrows were knit together. "Children are being educated wrong! All of them will grow up having learned the myth incorrectly. Do you know how difficult it is to relearn a topic after years of—"

Jesper cut in with an, "Okay, I can’t sit here and listen to this anymore. I’m leaving.” Wylan made a noise of protest, clearly unwilling to be deprived of the warmth of his boyfriend’s arms, but Jesper tugged the blanket away and started to rise.

Nina, chuckling fondly, gestured to the door. “Then get out of our apartment. I’ve got classes and work tomorrow, and I’m not staying up any later than this. Besides, Matthias needs his beauty sleep.”

“Alright, alright,” Jesper grumbled, slinging an arm around Wylan as they took their leave.

Matthias poked her chest with an affectionate glare. “My beauty sleep? Isn’t that what you need?”

“No, because I”—she prodded him right back—”am already stunning, thank you very much.”

Matthias’s teasing expression fell, and was replaced with something kinder, softer. “I know. You, Nina Zenik, are the most stunning, gorgeous, beautiful—ridiculously beautiful, might I add—”

Nina grew flustered.

"Obviously," she said, though her cheeks were pink, and she pushed him gently.

Matthias was undeterred. He was gazing at her with depthless tenderness. “—most amazing, talented”—at this, Nina snorted—”woman I know.”

An awkward clearing of the throat interrupted Nina before she could even reply to that.

Kaz. Oh shit, she thought.

“Oh shit," she said.

“If you could take that elsewhere, that would be just stellar,” Kaz whispered.

“No, why don’t you leave my house? And why are you whisper—oh.”

Inej had lain her head on Kaz’s shoulder and was out like a light.

“Yes, oh.” Kaz scowled, shooing them away. “I don’t intend to move, because this one sleeps about as often as I do. Now go cuddle elsewhere.”

“Kicking me out of my own living room? Brekker, you’re a riot.”

“Fuck off, Zenik.”

Nina snickered and Matthias whisked her away with a firm glare at Kaz. He practically carried her towards their bedroom, ignoring her giggles and protests, and kissed her sweetly before drawing the covers over her shoulders.

“So how did you really feel about the Disney movie?” She asked when they were both comfortably snuggled beneath the comforter.

Matthias groaned. “It’s midnight, Nina.”

“Answers, Helvar. I demand them.”

There was a pregnant stretch of silence, and just when Nina was sure he wasn’t going to answer, he said, “...It was inaccurate and a mistake was made by ever producing it, but… it was alright.”

She let out a whoop of victory at which Matthias rolled his eyes and turned on his side.

“I win!” Nina cawed, drawing him back towards her. “Ha!”

“Oh, lovely. You’ll be insufferable now.”

“You love me, though.” Nina kissed the back of his head, content to breathe in the scent of him as she buried her nose in the crook of his neck.

“That I do. I most definitely do.”

“Good,” she murmured. “Because I love you, too.”

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