#moirail fluff

He says, if you've got no motherfucking place to be all up at, why the fuck rush to get there? Why not motherfucking take a while to look at all the green shit nature goin' on around us?

To which Karkat usually replies, because it's dark, fuckass.

Less frequently he doesn't say anything and just gazes past the window. His eyes dart between silhouettes of fields with hedgerow borders and farmhouses and towering powerlines, and the only reason he can see them at all is from the puke-orange glow of the city further away.

Gamzee likes to drive with the radio just about audiable. When a song he knows comes on, he hums softly, a warm, vibrate-y sound which fills the car. He' shifts the car up a gear, a conductor's flick of the wrist, and nods his head from side to side in time to the music.

They take the old Astra miles, eating up the road and thankful of its endless supply. When they approach a hill, Gamzee speeds up so that when they go over it their stomachs flip and the car's suspension whines mechanically upon landing.

Eventually they find a place to park up, somewhere with a view. Karkat's favourite place is beside the canal, lined with houseboats and a streetlamp that flickers. Sometimes they'll take a walk down in the dark, away from the boats, Karkat constantly fretting that his friend is going to trip over his shoelaces and fall in, until they reach a bench and he can relax until the walk back. Gamzee smiles at nothing in particular. Sitting down, mindful of any bird shit or snails, Gamzee produces a glass pipe and baggie of weed from his jeans pocket and lights up. Waiting for his turn, Karkat watches the ripples of water reflecting the faint traces of light.

Back in the car, engine off but with the radio still playing, they climb into the back seat and that's when Gamzee remembers he's got a tupperware box of hash brownies in the glove compartment and has to lean over Karkat and the passenger seat to fetch them. He says he almost forgot about those motherfucking baked little miracles, he says they'll solve all their motherfucking problems. Karkat doesn't mention they don't have a drink.

They share the brownies and when there's only a couple left Gamzee motions that Karkat can finish them as he rolls a joint. He doesn't offer his best friend any as he knows that rad little fucker is well and truly stoned by this point and he's glad to have helped him on his merry motherfucking way with it.

Karkat mumbles something, laughs. He lets himself slide sideways and Gamzee is there to meet him and wrap an arm round.