Chapter Text
Thus I conclude: all lives have value, regardless of mortality.
It was a mortal author who said: sin begins when you treat people like things. I find myself humbled by his wisdom. We can be more than monsters, more than predators.
If we cannot, this I swear: I will destroy every shining tower in this Court before I see it rising over your bloody scavengers’ smiles.
The book almost falls from Dirk’s nerveless hand before he catches it. f*ck. “This is the original?” he demands, hoarse.
Jake looks up from his pile of cases. “It’s one of the first printed copies! There were at least a hundred made, and Karkat has at least a dozen others. You can pick new annotated edition in the city hall gift shop!”
“Thanks.” Dirk’s voice is wooden. “And people actually listened to this stuff?”
Jake sighs. “Not as much as we would have liked, but our current Queen rose to power in part with the Signless’ support. Some of his tenets, she can’t practically apply, but is it not written: we must try for a growth mindset?”
That is, in fact, written in the book Dirk just read. So were a lot of equally bewildering sayings. Compassion. Kindness. Anger, too, which he supposes makes sense for an ancestor of Vantas. Dirk reaches for the tea Jake made him, careful not to spill. It’s gone cold. How long has he been sitting here? Long enough that Vantas’s workstation is shut down and the troll himself is nowhere in sight.
Come to think of it: “Do you need to go home?” Dirk asks. “You don’t need to stick here on my account. You should probably have dinner or something.”
Jake straightens up like a startled meerkat. “Oh my tail and whiskers, when did you last eat?”
Dirk frowns. “You have a tail?”
“Not the most pressing question!” Jake waves his hand. “I’ll never hear the end of it if I let a case starve. Please, let’s obtain some yum-yums!”
Yum-yums. f*ck, this may as well happen. Dirk gets up. “Lead the way.”
The feasting hall is closed, much to Jake’s visible dismay. “I suppose it is late,” he says. “You know what, here, I’ll just grab a waiver–” He reaches for a piece of paper from what looks like a napkin dispenser. He scribbles something on it, and it lights up. He hands it to Dirk.
In clear, bold letters is written, No Obligations Upon You. There is also some smaller text; Dirk reads through it and finds only thorough stipulations that eating, drinking and resting here won’t cost him anything “beyond monetary compensation clearly agreed to in advance”.
“Nice,” Dirk says, feeling dumber than a rock that has slept his entire way through sedimentation class. “Good thinking.” At least somebody is thinking about risks, since it sure isn’t Dirk.
“Oh!” Jake seems to find his own hands fascinating suddenly. “Only standard procedure, you know. Anyway, I could find some place still open, or you’re welcome to my humble abode if you’d risk my cooking.” The last few words come out at a near mumble.
Between the low light and Jake’s skin tone, Dirk cannot tell whether he’s blushing, but he sure looks as awkward and nervous as a teen boy asking someone to be his prom date.
Dirk remembers chasing a mark through a condemned building once. There were holes in the walls, the floor was treacherous and marked in red paint to indicate extra unsafe spots, the insides were barren and what little furniture left was trashed. And in a random corner he’d hidden in, there was a potted basil plant, right under a hole in the roof that let in sunlight and rain, green and vibrant and lush.
“Oh,” Dirk says, soft and inadequate. “I think I’d like that.”
Either Jake is a better cook than he professed to be, or Dirk hasn’t eaten since the day before. Or possibly both. Dirk kind of comes back to himself wiping sauce from his otherwise empty bowl with a bit of bread, with Jake smiling at him over his own half-eaten meal.
“‘S good,” Dirk mutters, hunched slightly.
“I am not complaining whatsoever! Does a fellow good to see a meal he cooked received so well.” Jake beams at him and spears a green bean with his fork. Then he frowns and looks at his wrist watch. “sh*tballs. The last bus went out twenty minutes ago. I could find you a hostel…” he grimaces. “No, that rat bastard might well send someone out for you. I could arrange other transportation to your apartment, then, and ward it as well as I can.”
Seems like there’s another option there. “Or?”
Jake ducks his head. “Or… you’re perfectly welcome to stay the night. You could take the bed, I have a perfectly serviceable couch I could use.” When Dirk opens his mouth to argue, Jake waggles his finger. “Ah ah, you are the guest! Unless you’re uncomfortable, that is–”
“The bed is fine,” Dirk says in a hurry.
An hour later, he’s having regrets.
It’s not that the bed is uncomfortable. It’s really nice, actually. The blanket is goose down or something, pleasantly heavy on top of Dirk. And it mostly smells vaguely floral, like laundry detergent.
Under that, though, there’s a layer of sleepy, masculine scent that is making Dirk’s dick remember its own existence for the first time in years. Dirk sleeps on his stomach, so his face is buried in the pillow with its clean smell and the weight of the blanket is like a body on top of his–
Dirk is not going to hump this guy’s bed like a creep, what the f*ck. Nevermind that Jake has broad shoulders and gorgeous eyes and gentle hands, that he’s found a hope in the literal hell of Dirk’s life. Those are exactly the reasons why he shouldn’t squirm on top of his sheets and bite the nearest soft thing so he doesn’t make a sound.
Dirk shoves his face into the pillow and tries to scream as quietly as possible.
In the next room, something thumps, and Dirk freezes. sh*t, apparently he wasn’t quiet enough. He still says, “Come in,” when Jake knocks, automatic.
Jake walks in yawning, the muscles in his arms moving as he stretches. “Everything on the up-and-up?”
“Fine.” Dirk has this. He is a master of deadpan, and he isn’t going to whine because Jake is right there and Dirk can smell him and oh God he is in hell.
To compound that, Jake walks closer. “Are you certain? Please, if there’s anything at all you need–”
He falls silent abruptly, as Dirk realizes his hips have been thrusting in a slow, lazy pace into the bed. “I’m sorry,” he moans, feverish and miserable. By all means, the humiliation alone should have killed his fledgeling erection. Instead, he feels like lightning is shooting down his spine. “I, f*ck, if you want me to get out–”
“Adrenaline does funny things to a body,” Jake says quietly, so kind it makes Dirk’s eyes prickle. “I won’t take offense. I should give you some privacy, however.”
But he’s not leaving, not walking away, and something in Dirk breaks.
“Come here,” Dirk begs, open and shameless. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want–”
He’s stunned into silence by Jake’s hand on his shoulder. “Shh, no need for that,” Jake says softly. “Speak your desire. I could just stay, if you liked, or hold you.”
Dirk is falling apart, dissolving into a gooey mess, losing all structural integrity and semblance of coherence. “Please,” he says, like he’s forgotten any other word. “Please.”
Jake slowly raises the blanket up. When Dirk only continues with his broken-record pleas, Jake shuffles onto the bed, body right up against Dirk’s, hot and branding.
Turning to him is not under Dirk’s control. Maybe this is what sunflowers feel like, or moths, drawn to light and warmth. He is clutching Jake too tight, humping his muscled thigh like a goddamned dog, and he can’t stop.
Jake moves them until he’s on his back, Dirk rutting into him, face buried in the crook of Jake’s neck, moaning blurrily. Jake kisses his cheek and rubs his back and doesn’t say anything about the hot tears streaming down Dirk’s face.
Finishing hits like a baseball bat to the head, a comparison that Dirk is qualified to make at this point. He feels like he’s falling apart into primary components.
Jake is hard against him, but he only kisses Dirk and holds him in place, in one piece. “Later,” he tells Dirk, voice firm and no-nonsense. “Rest now.”
Maybe Dirk is just used to doing what he’s told, now, because he curls up against Jake and falls into the sleep of the exhausted and the concussed.
