Chapter Text
Something was wrong.
His stomach didn’t hurt. That was new. Yeah he felt exhausted but, that was normal. Wait, was he comfortable? Yes, he decided, definitely comfy. He was lying in a bed- he hadn’t slept in a bed in over a month now. This was wrong.
Karkat opened his eyes to an unbelievably white room; stupid hospitals.
Oh, he was in a hospital. How did he get to the hospital?
The warm sheets invited him to snuggle down a bit while he thought over the past twenty four hours. At least- he thought in a rush a panic- he hoped it was twenty four hours. After a deep breath he reminded himself that he was just dying of starvation, no big deal.
A scoff escaped into the empty room. Yeah right. Living on the streets for a month, no big deal. Homeless at sixteen, no big deal. Father murdered, family rejecting him, no contact with the only people he trusted, and possibly a concerned Samaritan about to ask questions, no, big, fucking-
The door opened. A scrawny kid about his age walked in. “You’re awake.” His voice held only the slightest impression of surprise.
Karkat looked at the kid. He had seen him around while he was on the streets, the stranger had always left him a 20. Not that he ever got a good look at his mysterious benefactor, only a flurry of a red jacket, a tint of sunglasses, and a sweep of blond hair. Now this unnamed stranger stood before him, after having closed the door. The red hoodie was ever present, so were the aviators, hiding his eyes. The kid’s face was unreadable. It was unnerving. A kid that scrawny should not be so intimidating.
“I’m Dave.”
Dave looked at the kid lying in the hospital bed. He seemed better than when he was living under the bridge near his house. Dave wondered where his tattered old sweater was taken too after they got him in the hospital gown. Homeless appeared small in the mess of sheets, his dark hair contrasting a shockingly pale face. Those freckles stood out like stars. The stars did not reach his eyes though; eyes that pierced him like daggers, accusing him of help, most likely. A kid that small should not look so defiant, it would be adorable if he hadn’t almost died last night.
”Karkat,” he introduced himself.
It was silent for a moment. Karkat searched the room while Dave sat down; a little too relaxed, into a chair beside the bed. The hospital room was normal, small, and void of much furniture, nothing to pay attention too, nothing to excuse conversation with whoever may or may not have just fucked up his life.
Well, there was one thing.
“Why is the heart monitor covered?”
Dave sighed. “Would you like the shit storm now or after you’ve recovered a bit?”
Well wasn’t that blunt. “Shit storm? Hey fuckwad, I’ve been through hell already if you haven’t fucking noticed,” Karkat scoffed in spite of trying to stay calm. “Shit storm…” the word trailed off. “My fucking life is a shit storm!” He was just getting warmed up; he had been harboring this since he left! And this… this… this fucking idiot just decided to…. Listen?
Dave didn’t look surprised, or angry, or… anything, aside from a minute perk in one eyebrow. People were usually sputtering by now, only to have Karkat cut them off. But this guy was just-
“Go on,” he said.
Karkat couldn’t do it. No with someone who was obviously brain dead… or thoughtful. The silence was emphasized by the soundless heart monitor.
“Is that a yes on the shit storm?” Dave asked with, what was that, sarcasm? Karat gave a slight nod.
“That’s a hemodynamic cardiac monitor, all it does is measure you’re heartrate by blood flow, not electrically like other ones. And you’re blood isn’t registering as flowing, exactly.”
Dave leaned forward a bit, trying to read the other boy. Karkat’s eyes had widened, his mouth opened a bit. And, to Dave’s amusement, he laughed. It was the most well fucking fuck me laugh he had ever heard.
Karkat reached to the monitor beside his bed and ripped of the piece of paper that had been taped on to it, and sure enough, a flat line was waiting. For the first time ever, Dave saw the mysterious kid smile. Sure it had a hint of fear to it, but the rest was sheer excitement. Tough guy act aside, Karkat looked at Dave, paused, and said, “Well this shit storm just got interesting.”
At that moment man with the most triangular glasses stepped in. “Dave, stop flirting with the guy. We got to get him out of here before we start to look suspicious.” He tossed a bundle of clothes at Dave.
“Alright Bro, we’ll be out in five,” Dave replied. The man took one glance at Karkat, nodded, and left.
Before Karkat could even ask, Dave threw the clothes on him and instructed, “Get dressed. We paid off the nurses but even that only gets you so far, and we got to get you out of here fast, shit storm begins now, dude.”
Karkat didn’t need to be told twice. He threw the sheets off, jumped out of the bed… and proceeded to fall right into Dave. Dave had expected that much, and caught the alarmingly wobbly stranger by the waist. He looked up at Karkat, who had braced his hands against the back of the chair and who looked more alarmed then he had when he saw the flat line. Karkat managed a meager, “I-“
“-should probably get dressed slowly,” Dave finished for him. Karkat nodded, wishing he wasn’t just starring back at his own reflection in those goddamn sunglasses inches away from his face. This was just a fan-fucking-tastic day.
Dave stood up, hands moving to secure Karkat’s arms. He helped him sit on the edge of the bed. “I think I can manage from here thank you,” Karkat noted. Dave shrugged and began to turn around when-“Wait.” He faced Karkat, who was now a furious shade of red, and eyeing the gown he was wearing like it was crawling with roaches. Then, in the faintest of voices, “Can you untie this fucking cotton death trap?”
Karkat didn’t hold out much sympathy for nurses, but on that day he silently thanked whoever had allowed him to keep his underwear on.
Of course Dave didn’t know this, but that didn’t seem to deter him. With the slightest possibility of a smirk, Dave walked to the other side of the bed. It only took a moment to untie the five loosely knotted stings in the back.
He then turned around and listened to Karkat’s struggles. He was glad Karkat couldn’t see the restraint it was taking no to laugh, not with occasional “fuck” and “shit” and the eventual, “shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” followed by a painful flop!
”Goddamnit we don’t time for this,” Dave muttered. He knelt down by the angry ball of human, who was wrestling to put pants on lying on the floor.
“I told you I don’t need-“
“Just shut up, would ya?” Dave cut him off. Karkat was offended, then confused, then flustered in a matter of seconds. Dave had placed his hand on Karkat’s and closed his eyes.
“Um-“but Dave shushed him.
Karkat felt a lurch, like when you are about to fall asleep but instead if feels like falling.
Dave let go of his hand and stood back up.
“What did you do?” Karkat asked.
“I gave you time to put you’re fucking pants on,” Dave replied. That’s when Karkat realized he was lying on the floor, shirtless, with his pants halfway up his legs.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“Chill dude, you have all the time in world,” Dave said sitting back down. Karkat managed to button up his jeans and slowly raise himself back onto the bed.
“But you said-“
“Yes, and I also said shit storm,” Dave said standing up. “And coincidentally, that shit storm gave me the ability to manipulate time.” He walked to the door and opened it. From where Karkat was sitting, he could see ‘Bro’ mid-glance down the white hall. Slowly, Karkat made his way over to Dave and studied what the man had been looking at. A nurse was dropping a clipboard. Her face remained frozen in the shock you get when you drop things, annoyed at yourself, mainly. The few pages were still, caught in the act of falling.
Leaving Karkat to lean in the doorway, Dave walked down the hall and placed the object back in the nurse’s hands. He walked back saying, “I wonder how you’re fucked up too.”
Dave helped Karkat with his shoes and shirt because he still seemed a bit shocked.
“…shit storm?” Karkat muttered. “I don’t know how you define shit storm Dave-“
“Strider.”
“-Dave Strider. But this, this is an all-out fucking mark five shit hurricane of fucking nonsense.”
Dave sat down next to him and grabbed his hand again. “I know man, but hey,” he closed his eyes, “it is pretty fucking cool.”