
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/237974.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Terezi_Pyrope/Karkat_Vantas
  Character:
      Karkat_Vantas, Terezi_Pyrope
  Additional Tags:
      Pon_Farr, Sex_Pollen, feeelings_and_problems
  Collections:
      Homestuck_Shipping_Olympics_2011
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-08-11 Words: 2814
****** The Lesser Evil ******
by everlit_(Ink)
Summary
     That she's standing here anyway is part spite, part frustration, and
     part concession to an unpleasant truth. None of it makes her happy.
     [troll pon farr]
Notes
     This was (as might be deduced) a rejected submission for HSO Round 1.
     It's not my best work, but a friend twisted my arm into posting it,
     and--well, I do concede it has its merits. I hope you enjoy it, at
     any rate!
Karkat's door is the last on the left, all the way at the end of the hall. It's
shut tight, not a sound coming out of it, but Terezi raps her fist against the
metal anyway. The smell of red hangs there in the air, commingling with the
thick, musky scent of genetic material. That was expected, and very likely the
reason he hasn't been seen all day. She shouldn't be here. She has no reason
to, and her presence is only going to make things worse, to confuse what she
has been trying so hard not to get confused.
That she's standing here anyway is part spite, part frustration, and part
concession to an unpleasant truth. None of it makes her happy.
"Fuck off," Karkat calls. His voice is cracking, strained. "Why do none of you
assholes get that if I wanted to talk, I'd fucking open the door--"
"How long have you been waxing?"
There's a long silence. If she listens hard, she can hear his heavy, labored
breathing.
"I'm not fucking waxing."
"Don't be stupid." She asked around: no one's seen him all day. Yesterday he
was wandering around the common room snapping at everyone, eyes glassy, putting
things in the wrong place. "I can smell it."
The sound of something hitting metal--Karkat letting his head fall against the
wall. "Since we got here--now will you go?"
Five days.
The combination to Karkat's door is his wriggling day, backwards. Undoubtedly
he thinks it's clever.
This is a bad idea, but there isn't a better one. Karkat is curled in on
himself in the far corner of the room, head in knees, radiating exhaustion and
pain. The stench of sex is overpowering now. "What the fuck, Terezi--"
She pulls his head up by his hair and kisses him full on the mouth, cutting off
the rest of that sentence. He's hot to the touch, even for a lowblood, and when
she tugs at his hair again he moans. He's shivering. "Terezi," he says, when
she comes up for air. "Terezi, wait, don't--"
His voice is practically a squeak. She can taste the red on his skin, smell
that copper-honey tinge in every breath he takes: she wonders how she ever
missed it before. "What?" She lets her hands trail down to his stomach. The
scent's overpowering; everything around her seems less solid, less distinct
than it was before. Like nothing matters anymore: consequences no longer exist.
It's dangerous.
"I--told you," Karkat says, with difficulty, "I'm not--going to be that
asshole. No matter what you fucking think of me." He swallows. She feels the
pulse of blood like electricity in him, and she'd like to taste that, she
thinks, she'd like to put her mouth to his throat and bite down right against
the pulse point--
She stays where she is, though, her fingers curling in the fabric of his pants.
"We need you here," she says, and breathes in but that was a mistake, "not
everything is about you, Karkat--" her fingers tighten and twist involuntarily
and the look in his eyes is crazed, too open--
Maybe she lunges forward; maybe he just loses control. She can't tell, but his
mouth is on hers and his grip on her shoulders is frantic, grasping. When she
bites down on his tongue he whines and presses against her--they break apart
and crash back together and bump noses somewhere in the process but he seems
totally beyond caring. She slides her hand down to cup his bulge, squeezing--
a little hard, but by the way his whole body shudders, it only eggs him on.
"Terezi," he gasps, head tucked into the crook of her neck; "Terezi," he says,
against her skin, and her hands at the fastening of his jeans fumble. She can
feel the insistent press of her own bulge against her leg.
"Terezi," and it's a sob this time, a plea, he's trembling and she doesn't even
bother to pull down his pants, just sticks her hand in there and strokes--
"Terezi," and she loves his helplessness and hates it, hates the way her
stomach twists when he says her name. She works him harder, twists to the edge
of pain--he's not saying anything now, it's all one incoherent scream--
It doesn't take him long to come.
She holds him as he comes down (little breathy gasps, his blood on her tongue)-
-he might hit his head on something otherwise. "Better?" she asks, once he's
calmed down.
He nods, eyes still closed. The smell of sour-salt-sex is everywhere. "Terezi,"
he starts.
"How long do you think it's going to last?" she says. She is not going to be
the one who kisses him better again.
He pulls away from her--not that it gets him very far. "Are you fucking
insane?" His face is still flushed. He attempts to hike up his pants,
unsuccessfully, with one hand. "I don't--we can't--we are not doing this again
and we shouldn't have fucking done it in the first place!"
She stands up. There's still a little of his genetic material on her hand; she
wipes it off on her shirt. "What were you going to do, Karkat?"
"I told you, I can deal with it myself--"
"Don't be a dumbass," she says shortly.
He falls silent.
"It's the only logical solution--"
"No," he says. "It's not a fucking option."
They're only a couple feet apart. He isn't looking at her. His pants are
entirely ruined, and genetic material has to be dripping down his legs, but he
does up his jeans like none of that matters. Karkat has always scrabbled for
scrap of dignity he can muster, even when there's none to be found. He's never
known when to let go--it's why she pities him. "And why not?"
"Because--" He falters. "Because--fuck, because--"
"That's not an answer."
"I can't do this if it doesn't mean anything, okay?"
Everything goes quiet. Karkat is hunched over, hugging himself, still turned
towards the wall. She pities him. So she does something a little immature.
"Oh, Karkat, I am so flushed for you," she whispers, high and breathy. "I
simply can't take it anymore. Fill a pail with me, right now." She smiles at
him. "Better?"
She counts to nine.
"Get the fuck out of my room, Terezi."
Terezi always wins. Funny how it doesn't make her feel any better.
 
                                      ***
 
-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] started trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] --
GC: H3Y
GC: SO 1 GU3SS
GC: 1M SORRY
GC: TH4T W4S K1ND OF 1MM4TUR3
CG: WHAT THE FUCK, HOW ARE YOU STILL UP?
GC: SHOULDNT 1 B3 4SK1NG YOU TH4T QU3ST1ON
GC: WH3N W4S TH3 L4ST T1M3 YOU SL3PT
CG: NAPS ARE FOR THE WEAK.
CG: AND I'M NOT IN THE MARKET FOR A MOIRAIL, SO DON'T EVEN START.
CG: WHAT, NOT GOING TO SAY ANYTHING?
CG: I LEFT MYSELF WIDE FUCKING OPEN WITH THAT ONE.
CG: FUCK, I
CG: THIS IS STUPID. ARE YOU EVEN STILL THERE?
GC: OF COURS3 NOT >:P
CG: OH HA HA. YOU REACH NEW HEIGHTS OF COMEDY WITH EVERY SPIT-FLECKED SENTENCE.
CG: BUT APOLOGY ACCEPTED.
CG: I GUESS.
CG: IS THAT ALL?
GC: 1M ST1LL M4D 4T YOU YOU KNOW
CG: YOU DON'T SAY? AND HERE I THOUGHT WE WERE SKIPPING THROUGH FUCKING FIELDS
OF DAISIES TOGETHER
CG: BRAIDING EACH OTHERS' HAIR INTO POEMS OF PLATONIC AFFECTION.
CG: NO SHIT.
GC: YOU DONT UND3RST4ND WHY THOUGH
GC: YOU N3V3R D1D
CG: OH, IS THERE A SUBTLE CODE IN THE PATTERN OF YOUR FERAL GRINNING THAT I'M
FAILING TO GRASP?
CG: IS IT THE ELEVEN INCH ONE THAT MEANS "KARKAT YOU ARE A FAT-MOUTHED, DIAPER-
SHITTING GRUB WHOSE VERY EXISTENCE NAUSEATES ME"?
CG: I THOUGHT YOU'D JUST SMELLED SOMETHING RED.
GC: UGH
GC: YOUR3 4LW4YS L1K3 TH1S, 1 DONT KNOW WHY 1 TRY 4NYMOR3
CG: AND YOU ALWAYS SPOUT CRYPTIC BULLSHIT.
CG: ARE YOU DONE?
CG: HAVE YOU FINALLY FINISHED DISCOVERING NEW WAYS TO FAIL ME OUT OF TEREZI
PYROPE ACADEMY?
GC: 1 W4S GO1NG TO OFF3R TO H3LP YOU 4CTU4LLY
GC: W1TH YOUR *L1TTL3 PROBL3M*
GC: TH3 ON3 YOUR3 TRY1NG NOT TO TH1NK 4BOUT B3C4US3 YOU L1K3 TO PR3T3ND TH4T 1F
YOU DO 1T W1LL JUST GO 4W4Y
GC: L1K3 4LL OF YOUR OTH3R PROBL3MS 4ND 1SSU3S
GC: YOU 4R3 R34LLY PR3D1CT4BL3 K4RK4T
GC: 4ND YOU H4V3 N3V3R B33N 4BL3 TO S33 P4ST YOUR OWN 4NG3R 4ND S3LF-H4TR3D
GC: TO TH3 TRUTH
GC: YOU N3V3R D1D W4K3 UP
CG: OH, SO KARKAT IS AN INERT SHITSTAIN WITH THE MENTAL CAPACITY OF A WORM AND
A SHORTSIGHTEDNESS THAT WILL BE SUNG OF BY BARDS FOR CENTURIES TO COME.
CG: ALSO NOT NEWS.
CG: THANKS FOR REMINDING ME, THOUGH. I WAS ABOUT TO TENTATIVELY ENTERTAIN THE
FANTASY THAT I MIGHT BE COMPETENT.
GC: S33!
GC: TH1S 1S 3X4CTLY WH4T 1 M34N >:[
CG: WHAT I DON'T GET IS WHY YOU KEEP INSISTING ON THIS.
CG: I GET IT. YOU DETEST ME.
CG: FUCKING WASH YOUR HANDS OF ME LIKE YOU SO OBVIOUSLY WANT TO AND STOP
DEMANDING THAT I FILL A PAIL WITH YOU WHEN I HAVE REPEATEDLY TOLD YOU
CG: THAT I WOULD RATHER PERSONALLY OFFER MYSELF UP TO JACK NOIR FOR A GUTTING.
CG: IS THIS SOME KIND OF CALIGINOUS ADVANCE? IT HAD BETTER NOT BE.
GC: 1 DONT H4T3 YOU K4RK4T
CG: LIKE FUCK YOU DON'T.
GC: 1 P1TY YOU TOO MUCH FOR TH4T
CG: WHAT
-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] has ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --
 
                                      ***
 
-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering gallowsCalibrator [GC] --
CG: TEREZI?
CG: FUCK
CG: NEVER MIND, THIS IS MY STUPIDEST IDEA YET
CG: WHICH WE BOTH KNOW IS A FUCKING ACCOMPLISHMENT.
CG: I WILL GO STAMP 'ENORMOUS TOOL' ACROSS MY FACE INSTEAD, AS A WARNING TO THE
MASSES.
CG: FUCK, I
GC: DO YOU N33D M3 TO COM3 OV3R?
CG: I
CG: WHAT
GC: W3LL DO YOU
CG: NO
CG: I SAID I WASN'T GOING TO BE THAT ASSHOLE.
CG: WHATEVER ELSE YOU MIGHT THINK OF ME, I MEANT THAT.
GC: G1V3 M3 T3N M1NUT3S
CG: OKAY
CG: I KNOW YOU AREN'T ACTUALLY THAT STUPID.
CG: WHAT PART OF NO IS INCOMPREHENSIBLE TO YOUR OVERLY-FLARED NOSTRILS?
GC: YOUR3 TH3 L34D3R
GC: L1K3 1 S41D
GC: W3 N33D YOU *H3R3*
GC: WH3N YOU LOOK 4T TH3 F4CTS TH4TS K1ND OF OBV1OUS
CG: AND I'M A MORON FOR THINKING THAT'S BULLSHIT?
GC: *3Y3ROLL*
CG: I
CG: TEREZI
-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] has ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] --
CG: WILL YOU STOP DOING THAT?
 
                                      ***
 
This time she doesn't bother knocking, just pounds the keypad like it's
Karkat's face, ripe for a drubbing. He flinches when the door slides open, and
that brings her a kind of black pleasure--it leaves quickly, though. She was
telling the truth before.
"Where's your bucket?"
Karkat turns, only halfway towards her. "I stuck it behind the recuperacoon."
His posture is stiff, his shoulders up as if braced for a blow. "You know you
don't--"
"Have to do this, I know." She's there already, bending down behind the
recuperacoon. "But I do. That's what you never understood."
"I understand perfectly fucking well." By now she knows the way he moves--
jerky, sudden, irritable--but it's different now, wrong, like he's forgotten
how to move his limbs. He's a hovering blip by the desk. "You dance around it,
with all your babbling about 'big pictures' and the 'truth,' like you think I'm
a drooling moron who doesn't understand simple concepts. Well, I get it, okay?
I fucking get duty."
He spits out that last word. Terezi squares her shoulders. "You still don't
know why I'm mad at you."
He laughs.
She smiles down at him. Then she drops the bucket at his feet--letting her grin
widen when he jumps. "Funny, Karkat?"
"Fucking hilarious." His lip curls. "Karkat Vantas, winner of the Lifetime
Achievements in Failure Award. Constitutionally incapable of performing the
most simple tasks without wetting himself. In the asshole convention, he's
fucking royalty. I'm surprised it took you this long to decide I wasn't worth
the shits and giggles."
He smells like salt and anger, like an oil fire, and she is so--she is shaking-
-she holds herself back, deliberately, because Terezi Pyrope does nothing on
instinct. "You stupid--little--wiggler--"
He glares up into her face. "Are you going to tell me I'm wrong again?"
When she kisses him, it's deliberate.
When she bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, that's deliberate too.
Karkat flails backward, hands clutching the edge of the desk in a desperate
attempt to keep balance--she covers those hands with hers, trapping him where
he stands, holding him unsteady. "What the hell," he starts, breathing hard.
Blood coats his teeth and the tip of his tongue. "What the hell, Terezi--"
"You are so stupid," she hisses. She leans forward and he leans back until he
can't anymore. Their noses are practically touching. "Is that what you think?
What you really, honestly think?"
She flicks out her tongue and tastes it: that sliver of red on his lower lip.
"You hate me." His eyes are on her, the whole time. "Don't dance around the
subject--you think I'm a joke, and I know it," but his mouth opens for hers,
when she decides she wants to taste that red from the inside. She bites down on
his tongue until he moans, digs her nails into his hands; she breaks him open
again and again, and he's trying to say something but that doesn't matter, she
doesn't care--
"Terezi," he's gasping, jagged. She covers that sound with her mouth.
"You don't--don't you dare, Karkat--" (what is she saying? She has no idea) "--
you've never understood anything in your stupid--dumb--life--"
He untangles his hands from hers (there's blood all over them) and shakes his
head like he's trying to clear it. "You always say the same fucking things."
"Because you always do the same fucking things--"
She stops. The only sound in the room is his breathing and hers. "You always do
the same things," she repeats. She lets her hands fall to the fastening of her
jeans, undoing the zip. He stays perfectly still. "You could understand, if you
wanted--but you don't want to understand. You'd rather hide behind the same
excuses you've always used!"
"Well, get on with it," he says, hoarse--and she wants to devour him from the
inside, coat her mouth in cherry-red and leave him bleeding out on the floor--
He tastes like heat and arousal, and she's angry.
She forces her hands to remain still as she undoes his pants, pulls them down
to his knees. "You've never understood anything," she says. She rolls their
hips together, and when he gasps she can feel his breath on the side of her
cheek--
"Fuck," and he arches back up in response, grinding against her bulge, "fuck,
Terezi, please--" It's good, the heat, the contact and the shock traveling up
her sides--she doesn't know why that surprises her but it does. The bucket
clatters between them.
They're pressed together like proper matesprits, like two people who don't know
how to be apart; his hands have found her hips and her fingers are tangled in
the back of his shirt. "You won't--you won't ever--" Her throat's dry. "You'll
never understand--"
"Like I said--" and it's low, unusual for him, "not--fucking--news--oh fuck--"
It's the shock in his voice, it's that broken, stretched out sound--but she
comes, just like that, shuddering against him. Her fluid spatters in the empty
bucket.
She feels suddenly, abruptly empty.
"Terezi," Karkat starts, uncertainly, and the sound of her name snaps her into
motion: she untangles herself from him (it takes a moment), and slides her hand
down to stroke his bulge.
"You got one thing right," she whispers. "I'm sick of this. I'm sick of waiting
for you to understand."
It's the truth. But so is this: she wants him to understand. She did then and
she does now; she can't imagine that she'll ever stop. Over and over, she keeps
pinning her hopes on a boy who never looks before he leaps and--fundamentally--
never changes.
She's supposed to be a lot smarter than that.
 
                                      ***
 
Afterward, he slides down to the floor, drooping against the desk, every inch
of him speaking exhaustion. She goes and dumps out the pail, more to have
something to do than because she actually cares.
"Look--" and Karkat stops, caught a half second too late by the realization
that maybe what he's about to say isn't very smart. "I'm--sorry, okay?"
Her hands tighten on the bucket. "Sorry for what, now?"
There's a long silence.
"Maybe you haven't noticed," and there's that touch of bitterness so common to
him, "but I'm kind of an asshole."
"Well," she says, "then stop."
He doesn't say another word for a long time.
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