Too full of hormones to write pale fanfic, so I present to you: this vacillatory clusterfuck gamkar drabble
"I can fucking feel you looking at me, you festering chucklesack."
"Ain't looking with nothing but pity and mirth upon my most blessed of brothers."
A sharp laugh responds to that, Karkat turning around in his chair to look toward the sole vent duct in the block. "Bullshit, you are absolutely not."
A beat, reeling in the buzz of the chucklevoodoos to make his previous lie less brazen. Even behind the metal grate of the ventilation shaft, Gamzee couldn't be any more obvious. "I am not."
"Get the fuck out here already. I am not going to sit here with fucking chills going up and down my posturecolumn in place of what I can only hope and assume you wish to be your fingers," Karkat huffs, watching the slow drop of the top latch before the grate clangs to the floor. Through the dark shadows of the space, Gamzee's bright scleras glowed with that questionable orange tint that his volatile moods often brought. Yeah, no shot he was looking at Karkat with pity or mirth.
Gamzee shuffles forward a bit, tipping his torso out of the shaft until he somersaults out gracelessly and lands on his back. Karkat couldn't help but note that it would only be a matter of time before the clown would have to find some other comical way to wiggle his ass out of his hiding place, given that his mature molts had this funny way of turning what was once a spindly branch into an admittedly terrifying murderclownling. Still much less bulky than other clowns though - more sinew and bone than peak highblood genetics. Once the daze of not being in an enclosed space shakes, Gamzee rolls to his knees, waiting for the other to close the distance now.
"Ain't gonna motherfucking ask with what kinds of intentions I was looking at you with now, brother of mine? I bet you could make a mess of assumptions based on how motherfucking wired that pan buzzes half the time. Like you're all up and gonna get ate up," He flashes a grin at the joke, pointedly showing off all of his disturbingly long fangs. The sight does make Karkat shiver, knowing damn well that those could rip through even the most durable chitin, exposing vital organs and soft tissues. It was one of those sickly ironic ways that the universe still managed to fuck his wastechute, offering up an adoring palemate that reminded him just how fucked he was from the start.
Still, he wasn't intimidated enough to back down. Karkat was both too proud and too stubborn to let Gamzee's games turn him into a wriggler, at least when he knew they weren't serious. He stands from his seat, scrunching his sniffnub at the way Gamzee sits straight, eyes fixed on him in a way that put the hairs at the back of his neck on end. "At this point, I can only assume you had the most heinous and impure intentions that ever crossed the mind of a so-called moirail. I get that you are unsavory to most, but you can't fucking expect me to fix all of your disgustingly eccentric whims, especially the kind that are concupiscent. That's not my fucking problem, so if that is what this is about, then you need to go fucking strangle your bulge in whatever dark corner or stretch your freezing, chasmous nook with some bozofied paraphernalia, alright?" He couldn't tell what way Gamzee was trying to steer things, but it certainly wasn't pale and he was not in the mood to entertain vacillatory posturing. As much as he enjoyed it in his books and movies, it was a real bitch to navigate - probably even more so with a quadrant-illiterate palemate with an appetite for pity and malice far beyond what anyone could have ever anticipated.
As if he heard nothing at all, Gamzee hums, shifting to crawl on his hands and knees toward the other when it processes that Karkat is not coming into his web. It was far too reminiscent of a feral pouncebeast approaching a cornered grazer, but Karkat had to stand tall and as unaffected as he could muster unless he wanted this chucklefuck to think he could control the situation. Karkat was the one in control - mostly.
"C'mon best friend, bet something nice and warm would fix me right up and off them thoughts so impure and heinous, as you been motherfucking like to call them," He stops when his hands find Karkat's feet, falling back to kneeling as he looked up at him with a challenge on his lips. Even with his heels to his ass, Gamzee was eye level with Karkat's groin, which was an uncomfortable thought to stomach given their current standoff. "I know you been testing those filial waters with that motherfucking FLESHSACK, so why not be testing the shit the way the motherfucking grubmother all hatched us for? Ain't I all good to you? Don't a motherfucker CHERISH his most blessed and beloved brother like a miracle placed just for him?"
The mention of Karkat fooling around with a "fleshsack" is enough to send him reeling. Because how the fuck did Gamzee know about that? How the fuck would he know about their interspecies experimentation (it was only sloppy makeouts and light petting under Dave's cape, BUT STILL)? Gobsmacked as he was, stumbling through half-curses and questions, Karkat was not prepared for Gamzee's next sentence.
"Let a motherfucker get more than even. Promise if you let me suck at that sweet motherfucking syrup you spill that I can keep my trap shut, be your good little highblood quadfuck secret that gets you off and don't ask for nothing else...."