#hsge2013

“Holy fucking shit, Strider get off of me.” He growls, trying to wedge his fingers beneath your death grip around his waist.

You nuzzle your nose into his sweater, inhale his scent and slightly tighten your hold around him. It’s the middle of winter and positively freezing outside. Your bro keeps the heat low since he apparently likes the cold and couldn’t care less if you’re freezing your balls off. You’d learned at a young age that layers are your friend. Currently you’re wearing three pairs of socks, flannel bottoms under sweat pants, a sweater, a hoodie and a blanket around your shoulders. Yet there was Karkat, sitting on the couch with bare feet, a single sweater and a pair of jeans like it’s not ten below zero in here.

“Shhhh. You’re warm.” Your voice is muffled by the material of his sweater but you know he’s heard you.

He wiggles, squirms and grunts while trying to pry you off of him. His claws keep poking you but he’s careful not to scratch you. You’d found out a while ago that troll skin is a lot thicker than human skin and their claws can easily puncture your thin flesh. He’d been confused and then annoyed when you called him Edward Scissor-Hands for a month after he’d accidentally hurt you. As it was Karkat kept his claws fairly short and filed to resemble human nails but they were still hard and pinched a bit. When he left them be, they grew to be sharper like little razors on the ends of his fingers. If he didn’t file them once every two days they’d become a danger to your fleshy human body again.

He tries to kick you but isn’t able to with the angle and your weight pressing down on his legs. With a half sigh, half growl he collapses back against the pillows on the couch. He smacks the back of your head but leaves his hand there and begins to idly play with the blonde locks while he continues to complain.

“If you’re so damn cold just turn up the heat. I’m not your personal body heater!” He gripes, pulling through a tangle with his fingers.

“You know I can’t. I’d rather not have bro come home and kick my ass because it’s slightly warmer than it was when he left.”

“It’s the responsibility of the lusus to make sure their charge is healthy and comfortable. It’s irresponsible for him to let you go cold.”

“Shhhh.” You say again. “Use your weird mutant troll body heat for good.”

He grunts and you just know he’s rolled his eyes. “I didn’t sign on to be your forced cuddle partner, Dave.”

“Isn’t it in the troll rule book that you have to be a willing body pillow when your matesprit needs one?”

“You know good and well that there isn’t a fucking rule book. If you wanted to cuddle you could have just asked instead of throwing yourself onto me and latching your arms around my waist while I’m watching a movie.”

“What else do you expect me to do when you’re sittin’ here lookin’ all cute and nubby?”

He falls silent and tugs a bit on your hair unconsciously. Or at least you assume he didn’t mean to pull. You lift your head and rest your chin on his stomach so you can see his face. He’s staring at the TV screen but you get the feeling he’s not really watching. His grey cheeks have a very faint dusting of cherry red blood along his sharp cheekbones. You pull one hand out from under him and poke his chubby cheek. He swats your hand away and scowls. You smile. So freaking cute.

You wiggle your way up, with many complaints from him (“ouch you asshole, get your elbow out of my ribs”), and twist around until your positions have been switched and his head is nestled under your chin. His hands fist in your hoodie and the blush spreads to his ears. Adorable. You pet his head between his horns and soon enough the purr like rumble starts up and he settles against you, hands unclenching and eyes drooping.

You focus on the way his purring reverberates through your chest like the amped up bass of your favorite song. Rose has always said the feeling is a bit uncomfortable when she’s cuddled up with Kanaya but you like it. It feels nice. Like there’s a giant cat lying on top of you, though she says a cat’s purr isn’t nearly as strong.

He shifts his head a bit, knocking your chin with one of his horns. He mumbles an apology and you intentionally bump his horn with your fingers in return. He jabs you in the side with one of his knuckles. Their horns can’t feel as they’re nothing but solid calcium but where the base meets scalp tends to be sensitive. The shorter the horns are, the more sensitive it is. He complains that it itches and feels uncomfortable. Like an annoying touch that he needs to shake off, even if it’s his own hands. You imagine it’s hard for him to wash his hair with those little nubs in the way. You kiss the top of his head in way of an apology and he relaxes again.

Your hand drifts down to the nap of his neck where you brush away the short hair with your fingers. You delicately drag your fingertips down his neck and between his shoulder blades and he shivers. He jiggles his shoulder in an attempt to move your hand away. You smile and comply, resting the palm of your hand on the back of his neck and leaving it there. He’s so fussy and difficult, making it hard to just cuddle with him without ending up with at least one new bruise.

It amazes you how normal this has become. It’s almost mundane the way you can cuddle him and kiss him like it’s completely ordinary. You wonder if it would be like this if you lived together. Would you eat dinner together every night? Cuddle on the couch while watching TV or just talking? Kiss in the hallway, cook together, share a bed and spend every morning whispering sweet nothings as the sun comes up and lights the previously dark room? You can see yourself doing all of that and more and with him and that scares you sometimes. It scares you to love someone this much but you wouldn’t trade the feeling for anything else.

In the time since you claimed him as your heated pillow you’ve completely forgotten about the cold. Having a body with a normal temperature of 110 degrees laying on top of you can do that. But it’s also because it’s Karkat. He complains and yells and insults you most of the time but sometimes you can get him to calm down like this. As much as he avoids the topic you know very well that he cares for you as much as you do for him. Hell, he’d been the one who had asked for a matespritship to start with. It just wasn’t always easy to see the hidden love behind his angry words and grumpy personality. Beneath it all everyone knows he’s a big softy and a bit of a cry baby. To others your relationship might look one sided but they don’t know Karkat. They don’t know that he’s the most caring person you’ve ever known.

Though of course, there was a quadrants discount.

Horuss sighed and put his head on the booth desk, staring at the side boards. “I’ve always made him horse figurines, because he likes figurines. But he never seems very happy about them…”

Meulin scritched his head gently, making sure not to knock his headgear askew. “Dearest diamond,” she purred. “Don’t you think you should make him a figure of something he likes?”

“But he likes horses.”

“No, sweetie, you like horses. He puts up with horses, because you like them.”

Horuss frowned. “I have no idea what to get him then.”

Meulin sighed loudly. “Why don’t you make him a figure of his favorite troll anime character? You could even make it a little automaton!”

“But it’s been so many sweeps since I saw any troll anime with him. I don’t even know his favorite character…” He sat up and frowned. “Am I a bad matesprit?”

“You… have made mewstakes, like anyone else. But now you can change that! You should go to him now, and ask to watch some troll anime with him, as an early purresent! Then, you should be able to figure out his favorite character, and get an idea of how they mewve and such, so you can make the figure!”

After a moment’s thought, he nodded. “I can do that.”

“Of course you can! Now, remember to smile!!” She grinned as an example, her sharp little cat fangs glistening.

Horuss tried his best to mirror her, oblivious to the way his terrifying smile made hers waver.  

--

Rufioh was easy enough to find, sitting on the roof of his treehive with his lusus. Horuss climbed up to stand on the porch. “Rufioh!”

He jumped and looked down. “Oh… Sorry, bro, didn’t see you there… What’s up?”

“I thought that maybe we could watch some troll anime?”

Rufioh’s eyes lit up. “You for real? I’d love to do that shit.” His face fell a bit, falling into suspicious lines. “But why? You don’t really like it.”

Horuss shifted his weight around, imagining the way he would stamp his front hooves in uncertainty, shaking his beautiful mane. “But you do. And that is what a good matesprit does, isn’t it? Doing things with your heart that maybe you don’t like, but they do. ...Do you want to?”

“Heck yeah.” Rufioh fluttered down off the roof, Tinkerbull trailing behind him. “Come on in… What kind of anime you wanna watch, man?”

“I…” Horuss thought about how best to frame his request to keep his gift a surprise. “Why don’t you show me your favorite?”

“Hmm…” Rufioh walked over to his DVD collection, leaving Horuss to silently wax poetic about the curve of his wings as they framed his hips and hindquarters, and to wipe away the beading sweat with his hoofkerchief. “How about this instead?”

The DVD in his hand was labeled “troll Airbender”. “It’s done in the style of anime, but it’s actually in standard Beforan and was produced on this side of the world… Well, the side that… we lived on, anyway…” He chuckled nervously. “You know what I mean, right…? I figured you didn’t wanna be watching subtitles the whole time...”

“I appreciate that, Rufioh. You are a lovely and considerate matesprit. I only hope that I too, can be, someday.” Horuss settled down on the couch, dabbing at his face still.

“Nah, bro, you are being a pretty awesome matesprit right now… Don’t go beating yourself up over nothing…” He put the DVD into the player and sat next to Horuss, wrapping his wings around his shoulders. “Hey…” His cheeks turned auburn. “You wanna like… cuddle or something…?”

And as the opening music began to play, Horuss smiled, for once not feeling like he was forcing it. “Yes, I’d like that very much. Um, would it be alright if I took off my goggles then?”

“Go for it… You could lay in my lap or something… if you want.”

And so, headgear carefully placed on the table, Horuss lay down across the sofa, resting his head in the curve of Rufioh’s thighs. His warm fingers combed their way into his hair, pulling it gently out of the tight ponytail Horuss had tied it up in. “So,” Horuss said after a little while of watching. “Tell me more about this show?”

“It’s about a kicking dude called the Avattarr. It’s like… okay, there’s this cool made-up world, where some people can like… control elements and shit. But most people can only ever master one, like fire or water or something… But there’s also the Avattarr. He’s the one troll dude in the whole world you can control all four.”

“Fire, water… The others are?”

“Earth and air. But see, there are hardly any airbenders left in the world, ‘cause they were all killed. They had really neat, like, neon blue blood, all sky-colored… But one of them survived. And he’s the Avattarr, Aangku. He’s the dude with the cool spiraly arrow horns there.” He pointed at the character on the screen, bareheaded and dressed in orange. “And he gets frozen, and then these two diamonded kids find him… Katara and Sokkah. They’re from the southern water country. And they have adventures and shit…”

A young pair of cerulean-blooded trolls, one with gently curling thin horns and one with thick, angular ones, appeared on the screen, wrapped in furs.

“Aangku and his friends gotta defeat the Firelord. And save the world… and stuff like that… Sound cool so far…?”  

It sounded confusing, to be perfectly honest, but an interesting confusing. “Yes. So, who is your favorite? The Avattarr?”

“Nah, my favorite dude doesn’t appear for a bit... Zukkoh. He’s a highblood who gets to meet his ancestor since highbloods live a crazy long time… But his ancestor’s the Firelord.”

“The villain of the show.”

Rufioh nodded, continuing to stroke Horuss’ hair, clearly pleased that Horuss was paying attention. “Yeah… He wants to make his ancestor all proud of him and shit, but he doesn’t really care… In fact, his ancestor went and abandoned him when he couldn’t catch the Avattarr, choosing his old moirail as his successor instead.”

“The Firelord’s? Or Zukkoh’s?.”

“Zukkoh’s… So after a while, he becomes a good guy and all… Oh, that’s him. See? The one with the scar?”

The character he indicated was dressed in rust colors, but his eyes were highblood purple. One of them was covered in a thick, dark scar that almost covered half his face. His horns were sharply tapered and meandering, like a flame.

“I presume, since his ancestor is the Firelord, that he can control fire?”

“Yup… Man… I forgot how much I wanted him and Katara to be matesprits… There’s this episode, man… Right before he’s a proper good guy… Makes me tear up every time…”

“But they don’t?”

“Nah… They’re totally blackflirting when they first meet, but they start to vacillate red, even though they’re on opposite sides… And it’s beautiful… ...But in the end, the big heart quadrant is Aangku and Katara… And Zukkoh ends up flushed for this sort of minor character named Mailee… Don’t get me wrong, they’re cute and all… but I was really itching for Zukkoh and Katara to get together, you know…?”

“I know what you mean.” You think about Meulin’s many rambling, one-sided conversations about her ‘ships’, and how, very occasionally, you find one you agree with. Like Meenah and Damara pitch. Goodness, just the sheer audacity of it is simply… t*tillating.

“Oops… I’ve been talking all over the show… You mind if I restart and we watch quietly for awhile? I can make grubcorn later… if you get hungry…”

“That’s fine,” Horuss said. Already in his head, he was putting pieces together in his head, thinking about soldering and balance and belts and perhaps even a small lighter mechanism…

…

It was a long time before Rufioh tired of watching. “Hey, Horuss… What do you think of it?”

“It is surprisingly enjoyable.” He’d spaced out now and again, but he found that he could easily recall which character was which and what the plot arcs had been, so it was clearly sticking. “I can see why you like Zukkoh. He even sounds a bit like you.”

Rufioh blushed prettily. “Nah… He’s a lot cooler-sounding than me… But thanks.”

“I have things to do before 12th Perigee’s Eve. But I would love to watch more with you soon.” Horuss sat up, stretched and looked back at Rufioh, hoping that, maybe for once in a very long time, Rufioh would kiss him goodbye without being prompted.

After a moment of waiting, Horuss gave up, and leaned forward to grab his goggles from the side table. But before he could, he felt warm hands reach around his thorax, Rufioh turning his head to rest his chin comfortably on his shoulder. “Thank you, Horuss… I actually had a really nice time…” Warm lips against his neck, then below his ear, tracing slowly forward. Horuss turned to meet them, a bit too quickly perhaps, judging by the gasp as he knocked into Rufioh’s horn. Claws scraped lightly up toward his shoulders, then reached down to undo the buttons holding his clothing on. “Do you really have to leave so soon…?”

“I…” His breath was getting dreadfully shallow now. “I suppose I have some time…”

“Good… ‘Cause there’s some more stuff I wanna do before you get busy…”

--

Rufioh was really happy when he opened the box, much happier than he’d been expecting to be. Sure, the horse figures and stuff Horuss had given him before were cool and all, but his little Zukkoh was sick. He set it down on the table, marveling as it came to life and dropped into a fighting stance, balanced perfectly on its tiny legs, arms defensive. As it started to go through basic kung fu forms, Rufioh noticed small holes in the palms of the hands and the heel of one foot. He gasped when the spark came, making a perfect stream of fire come from the outstretched heel, the body tilted into the kick.

“Holy shit… Horuss, this is fantastic.” He leapt up and wrapped his arms around Horuss’s neck, squeezing as tightly as he could.

Horuss hugged him back, checking his strength with practiced ease. “I am pleased you like it.”

“I love it… For real… I feel bad. I just drew you as your horsona…”

“I’m just happy to see you happy, Rufioh. It was also a very fun project.”

“I bet…” He let go and came back to the ground, picking up the figure so it would turn off and stop spewing fire. “Is there an on-off button? So I can put it on my shelf…?”

Horuss showed him where it was, fingers brushing against his. It made heat spike in Rufioh’s acid sack. Once the little robot was safely on his figure shelf, he turned back to Horuss, feeling confident and relaxed and more than a little horny. (even more than usual, haha…)  

For a moment, Rufioh relished the blue tinge to Horuss’ cheeks, the awkward ways he moved when he was feeling, heh, spooked. But then he closed the gap between them, mashing their faces together, uncaring of whatever was on the floor to get crushed as they went down in a heap. 

It was the first 12th Perigee’s Eve they’d had in a damn long time. Tinkerbull had brought them a (small) behemoth. And his matesprit had just given him the most amazing gift.