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Right. So you think when someone says they're normal they're referring specifically to themselves, physically and not literally anything that has happened to them?

[He furrows his brows, trying to follow.]

I was normal too until I wasn't. Sounds like you stopped being normal a long time ago.

I mean, even the stuff that happened to me isn't that weird. It happened to like... fifty other people, and all of them had fought gods before. Or something adjacent.

[This is... not precisely true! But he was the (1) extremely normal character in the game. He had no powers, no supernatural shit in his backstory. The worst thing that every happened to him was being kicked out of Hanover.]

So I'm still usually the most boring person people know.

[Connor, like, really and genuinely believes this for the record.]

Fifty people is a small sample size for like, a school. A state. A country. It's definitely a small sample size for, say, the entire universe. I think, probably, being one of fifty people that fought gods is kind of something abnormal?

[He's sort of drawling this out because he's still nursing his drink, but he looks mildly irritated with the conversation and so he just waves him off.]

Any other juicy goss? What you been up to?

[Fucked my brother lately? dances on his tongue but he doesn't say it.]

There were more people who came and went. I'm not the Historian. I don't keep exact track of them.

[He shrugs, looking away from Dave to check the time. Oh.]

Cookies are done. Do you actually have oven mitts or did you not bother?

[Is he avoiding the question about "juicy goss"? Maybe! Don't worry about it. Don't worry about the fact that he probably has oven mitts in the bag too either.]

Nah. I want to contribute.

[Dave gets up, too fast. Give him a minute. That's a lot more vodka than he usually drinks in five minutes.

He slinks over to the oven and reaches in for the tray, pulling it out and setting it on the stovetop.]

You never really get used to that. [He reaches out and presses his warm palm over the front of Connor's face.]

Toasty.

What are you, five?

[Connor waves away Dave's hand and turns to pull a spatula from his bag of tricks and thrusts it into Dave's chest.]

Get those off the sheet, I'll grab a plate to put them on.

[Of all the things he shoved into a bag, plate was not one of them. It was the only thing he was reasonably sure that Dave had, if only because they'd need them to put leftovers on occasionally. Everybody has plates, right?]

Six.

[He pokes his face before he can fully slap him away. He takes the spatula and regards it like one might regard an unpinned grenade but he turns to the cookies anyway.]

Bottom cupboard right next to the fridge. Gotta keep things low.. [Because Karkat is short.]

Because. What am I doing here?

You take the spatula and stick it between the cookie and the baking sheet to free the cookie.

[He's, um. Somewhat comically? Bent over trying to pull a plate from said cupboard. It gives Dave a great view of his ass, though, if he's looking.]

.... You do know how to use a spatula, right?

[It's entirely possible Connor's realizing the big flaw in his plan right now. The flaw is that Dave's fucking useless in the kitchen.]

Well yeah, duh. You spatch with it. [Dave says, as if he wasn't a little stuck on what to do there.]

How come you know all this stuff? Don't say survival skills because I know damn well you don't bake cookies in the wood... Not with a spatula, anyway.

Larry forced me to do boy scouts so out of spite I picked the most useless merit badges possible. [A beat.] Then a god trapped me on and island and all those skills turned out to be useful so joke's on him. I did need to sail a boat.

[Remember that part of the conversation where he insisted his life is super normal? Yeah, anyway.]

[Dave pulls a considering face, ultimately feeling like he understands that logic. Spite works.

Dave turns, with a freshly spatched cookie in his hand. Ruby is a blessing because now he knows the pleasure of a truly hot cookie.]

I'd pay good money to see you in a boy scout's outfit.

Like in a kinky way...?

[Connor straightens, holding a plate. He's giving Dave a considering look, mostly because he has definitely seen weird boy scouts porn. Is that a kink he's into? Unclear, but he's down to try it if Dave wants.]

Like you wanna be my Scoutmaster and corrupt my innocence.

You know, I don't actually know.

[And that's a dangerous line to dance around, but he's had a lot of that apple-vodka and it makes bad ideas good.]

On the one hand it's funny, on the other hand I bet you look good in a little kerchief.

I look good in a lot of things, Dave.

[He holds out the plate, so Dave can put the rest of the cookies on it. Is he into dressing up? It sounds fun, at least. Maybe that's an idea for later. He's got the makings of Britney Spears circa ...Baby One More Time somewhere in his closet. Guys like schoolgitl outfits, right?]

But I have a feeling it's gonna be weird if you want to be the one corrupting me. Not the a bad way, just... you know.

[He's saying he's gonna be difficult about it.]

Not if it's not kinky. Or if it's a healthy kinky relationship? Do those exist? Like I'm a Scoutmaster but you get badges for not ghosting me and ignoring my texts.

[He stares straight at him, eyes not leaving him as he bites into his cookie.]

Or something less specific. Always wanted to wear the hat. Not that I went to Scouts because when my Bro wanted me to toughen up he just wailed on me.

[Connor would argue kinky relationships turn out healthier than most regular relationships because you have to talk to each other or it starts to fall apart, but he doesn't feel like getting into it. Instead, he rolls his eyes and holds out the plate more insistently. Put the fucking cookies on the plate, Dave.]

I don't ignore your texts unless I'm at work and that shouldn't count because I'm at work.

[At worst he takes a while to respond or he refuses to respond in anything but memes. Which, like. Is sort of ignoring? But in a very technical way that is indicative of dealing with Connor.]

Besides, that's not what I meant.

[He just does not at all elaborate on what he did mean.]

I know the difference between an honest reply and a meme you shoot out dude, don't trip. [He arches a challenging brow at him, but he starts to stack the cookies on the plate anyway.]

What did you mean, then?

Memes are an honest reply.

[He makes the effort to sound vaguely offended by the implication there, which is perhaps the way to tell he's not being sincere.]

Anyway, it's... uh. I just realized I haven't, like, aged in a while.

[Which means he's... technically 18, physically. And he's never going to get older than that.]

Ohh. Oh god. So are you saying it's weird because I'm like, way older than you? I don't think I follow.

[He glances at the drink in his free hand and slowly takes a sip anyway.]

You're not like, 16 are you?

No, I was 18 when I died.

[But barely. He turned 18 like two months before he died.]

It's just weird to remember, because I'm simultaneously older than you and younger than you.

Huh.

[Dave sucks his teeth as he considers that. He gives the impression of no thoughts, head empty generally but briefly he looks like he's having a deep thought.]

You think you're immortal or will you just hit your natural lifespan and stay a twink the whole time?

[Connor briefly counts on his fingers. One, two, three, four—]

How many times do you need to off yourself and come back before it counts as immortality? Because I think my natural lifespan was... 18 years.

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tw; abuse

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cw: suicide mention