Karkat's rant doesn't go ignored. Truth be told, it's kind of impossible to ignore those. John mutters under his breath, "I forgot about not leaving my hive— apartment. Dammit." His focus drifts to the crab as well. Not that he'd admit it, but John spent a long time combing the beach for the least-ugly hermit crab he could find. After two weeks of figuring out how to take care of it and having unnerving googly-eye staring contests, he has to admit it is kind of cute. In a weird crustacean way.
No, stop thinking about cute things and focus on— why is he moving the crabitat? Why is crabitat such a funny word?
When he can't stare at its bulbous little claws anymore, John meets Karkat's eyes again. He's about to suggest an alternative, like maybe wait it out and see if it goes away (it won't) or play with the crab for a while (how do you even do that) when Karkat speaks first.
Haha, wait, what.
John's initial non-reaction to the mistletoe was born out of duh, of course this stupid thing happened. Like, why wouldn't it? That is pretty much his luck. He didn't actually stop to consider what it meant. It didn't occur to him that he would have to kiss the alien friendleader. Like, really do it.
With his mouth.
John's words go on autopilot, which is always a recipe for greatness. "The left?" As if on cue, his head cocks to the left, effectively kicking his resemblance to a confused dog up a few notches. "So he won't see?" A beat before it hits, and the life enters his face again. "Oh my god, the crab? Seriously?" Despite the situation, or perhaps because of the sheer discomfort and ridiculousness, he cracks up. "You're worried about the crab seeing us?"
Frankly, he would be more worried about Karkat's roommate, or a neighbor in the hallway. Or Jade with her bizarre omniscient spacey powers. Shit!
Okay, focus. When the chuckles finally subside, John's left with only the growing knot in his stomach and his rapidly increasing heart rate. "Haha, uh." Great start! "Okay, I guess we are making this happen," he says.
Pause. Deep breath. Take a step closer. Wait— John abruptly takes off his glasses. After getting caught with enough girls, he'd realized that they just kind of get in the way. Glasses in one hand. Where does the other hand go? Instinctively, he reaches for Karkat's wrist — his right wrist, the same one he grabbed last time— no, don't think about that. It'll make it at least ten times weirder, minimum. (It created you. Wow, stop thinking about it!) But Karkat's hands are busy with the habitat, shielding the hermit crab to preserve what little dignity they have. Okay, stop staring, hand placement, figure it out. Eventually, his hand falls to Karkat's shoulder, which probably isn't super neutral but he's kind of losing control of his brain functions.
There's something to be said for essentially being nose to nose with your best troll friend and not being able to conjure a single coherent thought. Not that that's a particularly rare occurrence for John, but still. Under serious threat, he probably wouldn't be able to utter a single bluh.
He does manage to give himself a sort of internal countdown, like when you're waiting to swallow cough syrup and you really don't want to but you know you need to so you say you'll do it when you count down to one (but you still do two and a half, one and three quarters, anything to prolong the inevitable). Except maybe this is a little different. Also, he's just kind of breathing on Karkat's face, and that needs to stop. It needs to stop in approximately five, four, three, two—
Graceless, that's the word for it. John's eyes are squeezed shut so tightly as he presses their lips together, and he has the brief, fleeting hope that Karkat's eyes are closed too. Please be closed, because he probably looks really stupid, and oh god please don't break his mouth. That's a real concern, slightly more important than whether or not the crab is watching.
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No, stop thinking about cute things and focus on— why is he moving the crabitat? Why is crabitat such a funny word?
When he can't stare at its bulbous little claws anymore, John meets Karkat's eyes again. He's about to suggest an alternative, like maybe wait it out and see if it goes away (it won't) or play with the crab for a while (how do you even do that) when Karkat speaks first.
Haha, wait, what.
John's initial non-reaction to the mistletoe was born out of duh, of course this stupid thing happened. Like, why wouldn't it? That is pretty much his luck. He didn't actually stop to consider what it meant. It didn't occur to him that he would have to kiss the alien friendleader. Like, really do it.
With his mouth.
John's words go on autopilot, which is always a recipe for greatness. "The left?" As if on cue, his head cocks to the left, effectively kicking his resemblance to a confused dog up a few notches. "So he won't see?" A beat before it hits, and the life enters his face again. "Oh my god, the crab? Seriously?" Despite the situation, or perhaps because of the sheer discomfort and ridiculousness, he cracks up. "You're worried about the crab seeing us?"
Frankly, he would be more worried about Karkat's roommate, or a neighbor in the hallway. Or Jade with her bizarre omniscient spacey powers. Shit!
Okay, focus. When the chuckles finally subside, John's left with only the growing knot in his stomach and his rapidly increasing heart rate. "Haha, uh." Great start! "Okay, I guess we are making this happen," he says.
Pause. Deep breath. Take a step closer. Wait— John abruptly takes off his glasses. After getting caught with enough girls, he'd realized that they just kind of get in the way. Glasses in one hand. Where does the other hand go? Instinctively, he reaches for Karkat's wrist — his right wrist, the same one he grabbed last time— no, don't think about that. It'll make it at least ten times weirder, minimum. (It created you. Wow, stop thinking about it!) But Karkat's hands are busy with the habitat, shielding the hermit crab to preserve what little dignity they have. Okay, stop staring, hand placement, figure it out. Eventually, his hand falls to Karkat's shoulder, which probably isn't super neutral but he's kind of losing control of his brain functions.
There's something to be said for essentially being nose to nose with your best troll friend and not being able to conjure a single coherent thought. Not that that's a particularly rare occurrence for John, but still. Under serious threat, he probably wouldn't be able to utter a single bluh.
He does manage to give himself a sort of internal countdown, like when you're waiting to swallow cough syrup and you really don't want to but you know you need to so you say you'll do it when you count down to one (but you still do two and a half, one and three quarters, anything to prolong the inevitable). Except maybe this is a little different. Also, he's just kind of breathing on Karkat's face, and that needs to stop. It needs to stop in approximately five, four, three, two—
Graceless, that's the word for it. John's eyes are squeezed shut so tightly as he presses their lips together, and he has the brief, fleeting hope that Karkat's eyes are closed too. Please be closed, because he probably looks really stupid, and oh god please don't break his mouth. That's a real concern, slightly more important than whether or not the crab is watching.
Seriously, what was that all about?