None the Wiser (Homestuck fic)

[nobrandhero]

Title: None the Wiser
Fandom: Homestuck
Rating: T
Word count: 2,900
Pairing(s): Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Warnings: off-screen violence, minor blood

Summary: When Karkat first meets Dave Strider, an anonymous caste troll who parades around in a bright red shirt for "teh ironyz," it's hate at first sight. His impression changes drastically when he discovers Dave's candy red symbol isn't as anonymous as he pretends.

Notes: Credit to my beta for coming up with "multi-person vehicular movement can" as a troll term for "bus," because I am awful at inventing troll terminology.

Read on Dreamwidth under the cut, or over on AO3.

----

You hate Dave Strider from the moment you first lay eyes on him.

It doesn't help that you meet him on a bad day. Most days are bad days, but you're visiting the city, which is always an extra unpleasant experience. More specifically, you're staying with your friend Sollux as he tries, for what he'd probably call the twenty-second time, to teach you how to program more than shitty viruses.

He's in one of his better moods, which is why he's just sighing as he lectures you about how to avoid endless loops instead of slamming his head against a wall and storming out as he might do in a poor mood.

A knock at the door interrupts your study session and Sollux leaves you with the order to "Make sure you didn't forget a semicolon again, shithead."

You pull a face and mutter vulgarities under your breath as you scroll through your code, unwittingly eavesdropping as Sollux greets the newcomer.

"Hey, Captor. Thought you'd want your game grub back," a cocky male voice says.

Sollux scoffs. "Fucking keep it. I already pirated it."

"What, I came up here for nothing?"

"Not my damn fault you don't know how to message people ahead of time."

"I was in the area. Thought we could hang."

"Whatever. KK, you care if another dweeb joins us?"

"Harsh, dude," the proclaimed dweeb says.

You glance away from the computer and freeze. Some wanna-be coolkid is strolling into the hive as if he could own the world if he wanted. The obnoxious aviators would make you roll your eyes as it is, but it's his shirt that makes you stiffen. He's wearing the same anonymous symbol as you, except his is colored in a bright candy red.

"Who the fuck are you?" you snap, all pretense at politeness thrown out the window. Why the fuck is this asshole parading around in your blood color?

"Seriously, KK?" Sollux says. "Don't mind him, DV. He's just a cranky asshole and probably my best friend."

"Nah, it's okay." The stranger cocks his head. "Name's Dave Strider. What's it to you?"

You narrow your eyes. "There's no way either of those names are six letters."

"Nope. Congrats, you can spell and count." He smirks.

"Go suck a hoofbeast bulge. Why isn't your symbol gray?" It's a rude but not unreasonable question -- you're sure he's gotten many angry demands about it from highbloods -- but all the same you hope he doesn't realize there's fear behind your anger. Of all the unnatural colors he could choose, he went with yours.

He shrugs. "Same reason my name's unconventional: coolness and irony."

If you didn't think Sollux would stop you, you'd slug Strider right here. This miserable sack of shit is waltzing around in your blood color, a mutation that could get you culled, for ironic cool points. He carelessly makes a mockery of your blood, you can't even call him on it without the risk of outing yourself, and you hate him so damn much. You have never wanted someone in your black quadrant more in your entire life.

To your disgust (and perverted delight), Strider stays for the next few hours. You rein in the blackflirting as best you can, but enough slips out that Sollux smacks you with the back of a hand once. You can't tell if Strider's flirting back or if he's always a careless asshole without even meaning to be (or if you're just on edge and ready to be offended at even the smallest slip of the lingual muscle).

If it weren't for the fact that you're not interested in a long-distance relationship, you'd present your pitched quadrant to him on the spot. You suspect he returns the interest, as he keeps stopping by without warning the next couple of nights despite Sollux's annoyed grumbling.

On the last night you're in town, you try to help Sollux install a refurbished second monitor as you wait the hours until you have to catch your multi-person vehicular movement can home. Within minutes, he snaps at you to stop touching things. Instead you stand in front of the monitor so you can tell him when it turns on. He's in one of his bad moods, which is always a goddamn treat to witness.

He fiddles with the wires in the back, then pauses. "Any change?"

The new monitor stays blank, but the other screen flickers with a message. "No, but someone's trolling you."

"Who the fuck is it?"

"I don't fucking know. Some asshole who goes by TG."

"That's DV," he says. You should have guessed by the unnatural red text. "He can fucking wait."

You shrug, but glance at the Trollian window all the same because you've nothing better to do while Sollux swears at another mess of wires.

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] --

TG: ok so you know how i dont do the favors thing
TG: asking favors is so far beneath me that its sitting in the center of alternia burning up in all that lava and whatever shits inside a planet
TG: god
TG: fuck
TG: ok i dont have time to keep up the metaphors
TG: point is i need a favor
TG: bad
TG: you know im desperate because im coming to you
TG: sollux for the love of god tell me youre not afk

You read it over again. "It sounds like he's in trouble."

Sollux scoffs. "He's exaggerating. It's what he does."

You frown. "No, I think something's actually fucking wrong."

"Then serves the fucker right. He can deal with it himself. I am not meddling in other people's shit." He shifts and the monitor finally flickers to life. "How's that?"

"It's on," you murmur, but you're more intent on reading the incoming messages.

TG: this could seriously be a matter of life or death here
TG: whatever im sending you my coordinates either way
TG: if you ever get away from your obscenely long load gaper break
TG: maybe come grab me before i bleed out?
TG: thatd be nice
TG: if not no hard feelings i guess but ill probably never see you again
TG: on account of being dead not out of spite

You open the attachment despite what Sollux said, studying the map that appears on the screen. He may be the worst douchebag you've ever met, but you hate Strider too much to let him die.

"I'm going to find the bulgefuck," you say, grabbing the spare keys and heading for the door.

"Goddammit, KK, he's just being a drama queen," Sollux calls after you, but you don't listen.

You know the area near Sollux's hivestem well enough, but you still almost get lost three times and you walk past your destination twice. What kind of asinine fucker would ask his friend to meet him in a goddamn alley? Then you catch sight of him.

Oh.

He's curled into a corner, his back against a dumpster, and one of his horns is broken off in the middle. His posture is as pathetic now as it was overconfident the last time you saw him. He raises his head at the sound of your footsteps and your eyes go wide. A long cut runs across his face, dripping in bright candy red blood.

"Vantas?" His voice is weak. The more he unfurls, the more wounds you spot along his body, all oozing red blood.

You can't move. He's a mutant. There is another goddamn mutant in existence and he would be the most annoying bulgelicker you've ever met.

He sighs and looks as if he's trying to smirk but it comes off as a grimace. "Hey man, I figure there's a good chance your next instinct is to cull me, and if that's how you wanna take things, that's cool. I ain't capable of stopping you. Just do me a favor and make it fast."

You step towards him. "What the fuck happened to you?"

He raises an arm in a careless shrug. "Well, some shithead found out I'm a freak, then an angry mob happened, and here I am."

You swallow. One misstep and this could be you. You make a quick scan of your surroundings, double-check no one followed you, and pull his arm around your shoulders, lifting him to his feet. He grunts and his right leg limps, but he holds at least a little of his weight, which is good considering you're not sure you could carry him by your strength alone.

"Where's your hive?" you ask, peering around the corner and waiting for the clearest possible moment to dash out of the alley.

"S'already destroyed by now."

You hold back a shudder. "What about your lusus?"

"How do you think I got away?" His voice turns bitter for the first time but he recovers in seconds. "You're acting pretty different today. You get mood swings like Captor?"

You sneer. "I don't antagonize a mutant left beaten and bloody in an alleyway and suddenly I'm on par with Sollux fucking Captor's mood swings? Sorry, I guess I ought to have kicked you in the shameglobes a few times! Maybe hoisted you into that dumpster to live with your rightful people!"

He smirks, wincing a little as if even that much movement hurts. "There's the asshole again."

"The asshole, he says about his benevolent savior! Fuck you very much, you rotten bulgesac!"

He sighs. "Didn't mean anything by it, dude. Who's not an asshole, around here?"

You move as fast as Strider's bad leg will allow, ducking into alleys whenever the street gets too busy. He tries to hide his wounds, but there's just too many to block from sight with an arm. You get a couple of odd looks from rustbloods, but you're lucky enough to reach Sollux's hivestem without meeting any aggressive trolls.

Sollux greets you with a confused stare and a furrowed brow, but you cut him off with, "I'll explain in a minute. Right now I've got an armful of bleeding mutant, a destination full of first aid, and a mind full of paranoia about missing my movement can."

"You're getting blood on my floor," is all Sollux says as he follows you to the ablution block.

"You're welcome," Strider says as you set him on the load gaper. "Maybe you can invite a wounded indigoblood over to complete the look."

Sollux snorts.

You get to work cleaning Strider's wounds while Sollux watches with his arms crossed. More than healing him or preventing infection, you just need the red to disappear. Once the only visible signs of his blood color left are the stains on his shirt, you go out to grab an oversized shirt from your suitcase in hopes it'll fit.

"Change," you say when you return.

He wrinkles his nose at the gray anonymous symbol. "Fuck you, my clothes are fine."

"Your ironic shtick didn't fucking work. Now that you're found out, you need to go anonymous properly or you'll be culled for being fucking vapid before you're culled for being a mutant." You throw the shirt at him. "Fucking change."

He still hesitates but does at least remove that abomination of a red anonymous symbol, wincing as the fabric rubs against his wounds.

You back away and murmur to Sollux, "Can he stay here?"

"Do I look like a haven for weirdass trolls? I get enough shit as it is on my own around here." Sollux shifts, frowning. "I'll dispose of the bloody clothes and crap though, make sure no one can track him from here."

You frown. You hate Strider, but it's different now that you know he's the only other person in existence who shares your blood and that he had every right to wear bright red on his chest. He's still an asshole and you still want him in your quadrants, but your longing is fast changing hues as you feel a twinge of pity.

"I'll take him to my lawnring," you mutter.

"Do I get a say in this?" Strider asks as he smooths out his new shirt.

"No."

He shrugs. "Okay."

You thought he'd argue, but you guess he doesn't have much fight left in him at this point. You haul him to his feet again. "We need to leave in a few minutes with your limp. And take off the damn shades. They make you stand out too fucking much."

He lifts the shades and raises an eyebrow. Even though he doesn't look any older than you, his irises have turned bright red already.

"Oh," is all you say and he takes that as permission to drop the shades back into place.

You grab your bags and Sollux makes you swear to text him as soon as you're safe in your hive, then you're rushing through the streets again (with a little less worry about being found out, now that no one's bleeding) to reach your movement can.

Ten minutes out of the city and you're pretty sure he's passed out in the seat beside you. (It's hard to tell with the damn shades.) You let him get his rest until he starts letting out horrible moans because what kind of pathetic bulgelicker thinks it's a smart idea to sleep without sopor slime? You catch his head and pap him, quietly shooshing him as he wakes from the nightmare.

He leans against your shoulder and clings to you for a moment, then seems to come to his senses and jerks away. You give him one last pap and roll your eyes.

By a stroke of luck, your lusus isn't waiting to leap at you when you reach your hive a little before dawn, leaving you alone long enough to get Strider settled in without a fuss. You give him your recuperacoon for the day, since you won't sleep anyway, and text Sollux before searching for your lusus in case he needs a strife -- fucker gets so worried if you're gone for nights at a time. Better to make sure he's got all his rage out before he finds out about the new hivemate.

Strider doesn't come stumbling downstairs the next evening until almost midnight. His limp is still pronounced but the cut on his face is already looking better.

"There's grubloaf in the meal vault," you say from the table as you turn the page of your novel.

He grunts and drags himself to the vault, not even bothering with a plate. Once he's eaten and more alert, he wanders back to you, head cocked and lips a straight line.

You glance up. "Did you want something?"

"Why are you pulling this shit? You know sheltering me could get you killed, right?"

You roll your eyes. "I wasn't going to fucking wound myself in public, but I suppose you should know about this." You bite into your thumb, just enough to break skin, and hold it up for him to see the red drop of blood.

He slumps into the chair next to you. "Oh."

"Yep." You set the book down and shoot him a glare. "And now you know why I was an ass about your bullshit, borderline offensive fashion choices."

He shrugs. "It threw people off well enough."

"Until you were almost culled."

"Had to happen someday." He runs a hand over his broken horn, frowning as he reaches the end. "How're you planning to not get culled?"

"I'm training to be a threshecutioner," you mutter and he bursts out laughing. "What? Shut up! If I practice hard enough, they have to accept even a mutant! What useless plan did you have?"

He shrugs. "Was gonna go rogue. Be a space pirate maybe. Spend life on the run."

You snort. "That's inane."

"Yeah, probably."

You stare at your hands and try not to blush. "Well. Fuck it. Maybe if we stick together, we can figure something better out."

"Two inanes don't make a smart, man." He fingers the break in his horn again self-consciously. "I'm game though. Can't go worse than when I went solo."

You groan. "How do you manage to be so pitiful and goddamn hair-pullingly annoying at the same time?"

He smirks and inches closer. "Are you caught up in the Strider Charm?"

You throw your arms in the air. "Yes! And it's godawful!"

"Only one cure for that, man. Gotta get up in my grill, get your hands on the Strider, get your fill 'til-"

You grab him by the front of his shirt and pull him in for a rough kiss before he can spout anymore bullshit. He lets out a startled grunt before sliding his arms around your back and returning the kiss.

He swallows as you pull away. "I was going to do that."

"You were too fucking slow."

He frowns. "Fuck you, I was just taking my time, being romantic, getting some buildup, t-"

You kiss him again, more fiercely this time. It's almost a pitched kiss as you both try to nip lips and outdo each other. You break for air.

"Be my matesprit," you say, breathing heavily as you stroke his hair.

"Yes."

You yank on a strand. "Be my kismesis."

"Hell yes."

Be my moirail, you think, but he's kissing you before you can get the words out. From how he softens the kiss as you pap him, you're pretty sure his answer would be "hell fucking yes."