smalldeer: ([dave] good job fucko)
bug ([personal profile] smalldeer) wrote2015-10-17 12:49 pm

fic: The Bomb [780]

Title: The Bomb
Fandom: Homestuck
Characters: Dave, Karkat
Word Count: 780

Prompt: "i don't know what homestuck ships u ship, but POST-RETCON METEORSTUCK SHENANIGANS"
Prompted by: [personal profile] chagrined

"Listen, you can't just put that in a soda."

"I'm going to put it in the soda." A pause. "Do you understand how gravely serious this experiment is? I feel like you don't grasp the situation. If this experiment succeeds, we could have a solution on hand, Dave. A real solution. A solution the people of Can Town, and the people of the Meteor Republic, thoroughly fucking deserve. A solution of taste." He blinked. "Both of these taste like shitloaf broth, Strider. I'm seeing if the double doses of ungodly awful cancel each other out."

Dave considered this for a moment, face more or less unreadable, and then he took one hand out of his god-pajama pockets and held it up in mock surrender. "Alright. I'm convinced. Go for it." He vacated the sofa just a calculated notch faster than looked strictly casual, and took precisely one step backwards.

Karkat held the small object between finger and thumb and hovered it determinedly over the uncapped soda bottle. His eyebrows knitted together in a tight frown, and still he hesitated. Finally, his eyes flicked up to meet Dave's, finding them behind his shades and locking on like this next sentence was of more import than all of their adventures so far put together.

"Why shouldn't I drop it in?"

Dave, managing his poker face carefully, shrugged one shoulder in the very picture of nonchalance. "No, man, you sound like you know what you're doing. Go for it."

Karkat squinted at him suspiciously. "Because it sounds," he began carefully, "like there's something you're not telling me."

"Nah. I mean, you might be right, that's all. I get that you were joking at first but hell if it ain't a real possibility that you'll solve a lot of our problems right here." Dave turned around, making a show of leaving, and stuffed his hand back into his pocket to match the other one. Casually did it. "Sure, you were looking for a sugar rush adventure on the candy mountain peak, but maybe detonation is just part of the scientific process. Scientists are always finding out cool shit that way."

Karkat eyed the small, pill-like object in his hand, and after a moment's thought, slowly moved it away from the soda. "Detonation," he repeated.

"Sure. Maybe we can use it against Noir. Turn it into some serious biz, et-cetera."

"You're trying to tell me I'm making a bomb."

Dave whirled around, still slowly retreating, and raised his shoulders. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. No one said anything about that. I'm pretty sure it's just you saying things about that."

Karkat lifted the soda dubiously and scrutinized the ingredients on the label. Having never done this before, it occurred to him he never planned on drinking another bottle of the stuff in his life. ...Still, even if he couldn't figure out what most of these were, that didn't mean they were live explosives. That wasn't even a thing. No one put live explosives in candy.

"No one puts live explosives in candy," he said out loud, sounding less confident than he felt. "Not even human capitalists."

Dave stared at him blankly. "Well, they don't have to be live, Jesus Christ. Everything is just chemicals when you get right down to it, right?"

"You're being a piece of shit. I'm doing it," Karkat declared, with next to zero intention of doing anything, and held up the little white tablet again, slowly sliding the soda into place beneath it.

"Your funeral," Dave replied, and backed up further.

For a long moment, nobody moved.

And then Karkat felt something spider its way into his brain.

Don't you fucking dare, he tried to say, but it had happened too fast, his fingers had already let go of the mint, and as he opened his mouth to protest with those very words, an explosive froth volcano hosed at his face.

Choking and spluttering helplessly to rid himself of the sugar in his nose and throat, he gave a panicky flail and the bottle was knocked away from him in an impressive mono-colour rainbow across the room. Through the sugary explosion, Karkat caught sight of the shattering of Dave's poker face as the rocketing end of the soda bottle arced towards him in marvellous slow-motion.

Karkat decided he could be at peace with the situation, despite the wet, sugary mess already flattening his hair against his forehead. Dave had been ready to condemn him to this fate. At least now they were both fucked.

Reap what you sow, Strider.

From somewhere behind the couch, he heard the abrupt snorting of Team Scourge absolutely losing their shit.

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