Chapter Text
Karkat Vantas believes himself to be somewhat of an expert on love… when it comes to his friends' love lives. Karkat himself never really had too much luck when it came to endeavors of love. His relationships always end on a good, albeit awkward, note, with almost all of his exes still being some of his best friends, with the exception of one, David Elizabeth Strider, who also just happens to be his newest coworker.
Karkat Vantas certainly didn't think this was how his Monday would go. He expected to wake up get stuck in the same shitty traffic and show up to the same shitty job he has at the Sburb publishing company (don't ask about the name he doesn't know why its called that either), where he sits at his desk and reviews poorly written rough drafts of starry-eyed ‘authors’ (though he can hardly judge as he's doing the same thing in his free time). And then go home to his apartment, feed his cat, himself, and whatever ants have found their way into his home, then crash and pass out on his bed.
Instead here he is, mouth slightly ajar, staring at a pair of douchey shades hiding eyes so red, they’d burn a hole into a person's skull during an argument or.... Eyes that Karkat had hoped to not ever see again because remembering seeing those warm, warm eyes every morning hurt just a little too much.
Karkat tries to say something like ‘what are you doing here’ but all that comes out of his now noticeably extremely dry mouth is an unceremonious “guh” before he's clapped on the back by the saving grace of his department's head editor, Karkat never cared to learn his name but had heard him be called clubs around the office.
“Hey Vantas, it seems you’ve met the newest addition to the department! I was hoping that you might be able to show him the ropes. The usual guy who does it is out, and I have a meeting like…” Clubs looks down at their watch. “OH RIGHT NOW”. Without waiting for an answer, Clubs starts speed walking away, giving a very panicked ‘thanks, you're the best!’ as they head out towards the board meeting room. Leaving Karkat and the figure of his torment alone with nothing but the sounds of phone calls and the usual office chatter going on in the background.
After several beats of suffocatingly awkward silence, an annoyingly, heartbreaking, and familiar voice starts
“So, uh… you work here?”
The voice is filled with that practiced fake confidence Karkat is all too familiar with, and it's enough to pull him out of his stupor to give the blonde a scowl and say, “Why yes, Strider, I do work here. I thought it might be obvious by my standing here looking at and talking to you!” Karkat gives a huff and brings a hand to his forehead as if preparing himself to deal with the worst migraine known to man, brows creased in frustration.
“Strider, huh? Back to the last name basis, are we Vantas?” Dave leans against the side of Karkat's desk, putting a hand on the hard Ikea-quality fake wood. Karkat takes a deep breath in an attempt to not get himself fired and speaks…