#palemance

"Dude, stop squirming. Seriously, I am going to end up hurting you due to the fact that, for some reason, the concept of staying still somehow manages to allude you. Besides, I wouldn't have to sit you down and do this, but for some horrifically inexplicable reason, you cannot regularly take care of yourself in even the most basic of fashions. Both hygienically and otherwise, " the Vantas groused, hands testing the soapy water that currently enveloped the clown. It was hot, admittedly, but it was a necessity. Judging by a few of the deeper scratches' puss-infused state plus the particularly nasty knot that was Gamzee's mane, borderline scalding water was needed. If the hissing and glowering was to be taken as a hint, then he was certain that his moirail wasn't enjoying the bathing session at the moment. Yet, brow furrowed and lips pulled back in a miserable attempt of a snarl, the Capricorn was more so a pathetic sight rather than a terrifying one when taking into account how drooping his sharp features were, how gnarled hair was all but soaked, and how ratty tendrils clung to bare skin.

                                     The guy was absolutely pitiable.

                                                            Really.

"Don't give me that face, Gamzee Makara, or so help me God, I'll give you a reason to pout like the overgrown wriggler you are." Karkat grumbled, rolling his eyes, before reaching out for the nearest container of soap.

"Motherfucker, you're here trying to boil a brother. Why you got to be all mean like that? Seriously, shit’s already nine kinds of hurt to me and to these wicked feelings I got for you."

"Well, I'm so sorry this hurts, but you, sadly, need some help. Seriously. A lot of it, apparently, and cleaning your technicolored ass up is the first thing on my list of 'Things to do for my number one Juggaloser'. What the hell were you even doing, anyways? Did you just go to the middle of the meteor, pile together our friends' corpses and roll around in it like some impulsive, psychopathic barkbeast? You stink, and on top of that, you have more knots in your hair than a ball of string thrown out into the midst of a tornado, then blindly strung back together by a person who has never seen nor heard, let alone touched something like it before; some of these knots are honestly--Ugh, is this Faygo?!"

Fingers, previously coated in the thick shampoo, had just began to attack the mange that was his friend's hair when a particularly sickly sweet, sugar encrusted gnarl caught his attention. Jaw set, he leaned forward, digits entangling in the wild curls as he attempted to scrub out the sap-like nonsense. Giving yet another hiss, Gamzee snapped, shoulders hunched.

"Ouch, man! Ain't no need to be so fuckin' brutal--"

"--Then start drinking your carbonated sugar-syrup instead of wearing it! How does it even get in the back?"

"The miraculous methods in which our blessed nectar cannot be contained by mere reason and shit is a mystery to all those who are unwilling to see, my bodacious buddy."

".......That doesn't even make sense, but instead of further questioning you about it, I'll think I'll just drop the topic since the current level of dumbass I have to handle is already at full capacity. Move your arm a bit."

At once, the Makara leans to the side, lifting his arm as Karkat's eyes rove over a particular nasty scratch along his ribcage; its ragged, indigo-purple line stretching from underneath his bloodpusher all along his side in a jagged, slanted manner. Clucking his tongue, he removes his attention from the matted hair to the wound instead.

"How did this happen?"

"Clothes kept gettin' caught on all them little loose screws and also kept making a brother all slick because it gets hella hot when you fuckers turn on the damn heat, so I took 'em off, y'know, because the shit was getting hinderin’. Anyways, some bent panel caught me, man, when I was movin' and trying switch ways."

"So, " Karkat replied, quirking a brow as he dipped a rag into the opaque waters, "You're telling me you that you were crawling around the vents sweaty and completely naked, then? Is this what I'm hearing?"

"Of course not, my precious little brother. Nah, I had some face paint on then. Can't be too scandalous, now can I?"

He gave a leering smiling, winking, before abruptly hissing as the soap-and-water drenched cloth was pressed against the stinging cut. Shooting a glower over at the Vantas, the clown lapsed into a momentary, pouting silence while his friend continued to wash away the crusted scab along the shallow, possibly infected gash. Then, after the moment of gentle scrubbing passed, Karkat leaned back once more.

"You're an idiot. You know this right? Look, from now on, while in the vents, we're making a rule that says you have to always be dressed no matter how hot or cold it gets. I'll try and keep better track of the temperature so you aren't being cooked alive, but if the heat gets too bad, you can hunker down in my block anytime. Honestly, I don't mind so long as you keep your stupid horns off the floor and wash your face before you try to hug me or something. Funnily enough, I don't like having that clown sludge on me. It's probably toxic and literally stains everything."

Returning to the other's curls, he continues his efforts to detangle the majority of it by hand. Perhaps, once the Makara was at least partially clothed and somewhat dry and bandaged, he could take an actual comb to it. Truly, how did it even get this bad? Shaking his head, the ministrations were slowed as fingertips worked the soap down into the pitch locks further. A hum in response was all he received in response to his offer, though the gangly Highblood came to lean back into the massaging motion, nuzzling Karkat's hand whenever it ventured too close to his eyes or mouth or just his face in general. The bathing process continued in comfortable silence. Blood, crusted or freshly dripping, was washed away. Grime, dust, and dirt was scrubbed off and into the water. Knots were, eventually undone by the constant attack of stubborn digits and globs of scented shampoo. In the end, as the Vantas was drying his hands, did Gamzee break the quiet.

"Yo, Karkat?"

"What, Gamzee?"

" 'M pale for you."

"Yeah, " a slight smile graced Karkat's features before he muttered, "Pale for you too."

Rolling forward, the Capricorn extends his hand, fingers spreading to form half of a diamond. Dripping, grinning, and so flawlessly relaxed, it was hard to not return the gesture. Relenting, Karkat stepped back over to the fellow and, with a firm nod, finished the other half.

"Moirails till the end?"