Falconflight is POSTING something? It's a miracle! Wait? It's not an update and just a random one-shot in the fandom she's currently obsessing over? Never mind. No surprises here.

So... yeah. I'm actually posting again. I hope to start updating again soon (as in tomorrow maybe?), and this is something I've been working on. I really don't ship JohnKat. At all. I understand that a lot of people do, though, and I decided to write a one-shot for it as sort of a personal challenge for myself.

I hope you guys like it because otherwise I would have forced myself to write a pairing I don't like for nothing.

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS. You are standing outside of JOHN EGBERT'S house with a famous troll horror film and the intention of scaring John with the movie. You know your plan is very thin, especially since horror movies tend to scare the crap out of you, but hopefully John is more afraid of them than you are.

The door finally opens and you are greeted by an absolutely ecstatic John Egbert. "Hi, Karkat!"

"About time you answered the door," you snap.

John ignores this statement. "What movie did you bring?" Instead of reciting the entire title, you hand John the movie. His smile waves slightly. "I was kind of expecting you to bring a romcom. You are always rambling about how amazing they are."

"This one is really good too," you insist. You're lying, though. You've never seen this movie and it's probably going to scare you shitless.

John frowns and continues to examine the movie, and you're afraid he's going to force you to sit through Con-Air for the millionth time. Finally, though, he shrugs dismissively. "Okay." The goofy grin comes back, and John walks inside.

You follow him in and plop down on John's couch while he pops the disc out of its case and puts it in. He sits down next to you with the remote in hand. After fast-forwarding through the previews and reaching the menu, John suddenly jumps up.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you demand.

"Turning off the lights," John replies.

You frown slightly. Turning off the lights is not a part of your movie-night tradition, and you are about to request to keep the lights on when you remember why you chose to watch a horror film in the first place. You decide to suck it up and deal with the lack of light. John comes back, sits on the couch, and presses play.

It turns out that John isn't as much of a wimp as you thought he was, and aside from flinching, he really doesn't have a reaction. You, on the other hand, are fighting vainly to prevent yourself from screaming, pissing yourself, or cutting of the circulation to your hand. You wish you had a pillow or something to squeeze instead of your wrist.

Your façade eventually breaks after a particularly scary part and you scream, grabbing the first thing your hand can find. Said thing happens to be John's hand. John looks over at you, quirking his head to the side quizzically.

"Are you okay?" John asks, covering up the dialogue from the movie.

You're almost positive that you're blushing with embarrassment, and you're glad the lights are off. "I'm fine," you mutter. You begin to retract your hand, but yet another absolutely terrifying part comes up, and you grab John's hand again, squeezing it to death.

John frowns at you. "Are you scared?"

"N-no," you stammer in a way that says 'absolutely'. You clear your throat. "The only thing to be scared of in this shitty movie is the horrible acting and plot-holes." Your normal acid isn't there, though, and you both know it.

"It's okay, Karkat!" John gives you a warm smile that causes the butterflies in your stomach to mass-reproduce for some reason. "We can stop the movie if you want."

"I'm fine," you repeat. "We can keep watching it."

John gives you another confused look, but shrugs eventually. "Okay then. If you really want to." He pauses, and the derpy yet kind smile that makes your vascular pump race comes back. "You can keep squeezing my hand if it helps."

You're a bit stunned by the offer, and you reluctantly hold John's hand again. His skin is surprisingly soft and warm. You're pretty sure your face is just as warm judging by how much you think you're blushing.

The film continues without much event aside form the occasional shriek from you and accidentally puncturing John's hand twice, which you apologize profusely for. When the movie finishes, John's hand is still bleeding, and you mumble another guilty 'sorry'.

"It's fine," John repeats for the umpteenth time as he gets up, turns the lights on, and walks into the kitchen. You follow silently and watch as he washes his hands. When he's done, he turns back to you. "So, if you're a total wimp, why did you choose a horror film?"

You want to give a scathing retort to John detailing exactly why you're not a wimp, but you are honestly way too terrified to say much of anything. When you don't answer, John walks over to you and prods the side of your face.

"Karkat?" The question is accompanied by another poke to your face. "Kaarkaaat. Are you listening to me? Helloooo?"

You know for a fact that a rather embarrassing and obvious blush has conquered your face, and you're surprised John hasn't commented on it yet. After all, he is only inches away from your face.

You now regret mentioning the closeness of your faces because now you can't stop thinking about it. You can see every detail on his face. His stunningly blue eyes, his three teeth prominently jutting out over his lower lip. You wish you could shut off the little voice in your head telling you to kiss him.

The realization that you're thinking such absurd thoughts (like KISSING Egbert!) is what eventually breaks you out of your stupor, and you jerk away from John.

John continues to give you a confused look. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you snap. You're lying, obviously, as anyone who has been paying attention for the past two hours would know that you are anything but fine.

John thinks you're lying too. "Are you sure? You look like you just saw a ghost." John giggles, and the butterflies you have been trying to eliminate spring to life yet again. "The movie's over, you know."

You are desperate to reclaim some of your dignity so, with more force that you had intended, you reply with, "No DUH it's over, dumbass."

"Well then." John gives you a look like you just slapped him or insulted his mom (whatever that is), and you instantly come to the conclusion that insulting your crush is probably a bad idea.

You would have yet another 'no DUH' moment at this realization, but you can't get over the fact that John is your crush. That's ridiculous. Simply the idea gives you chills. YOU liking JOHN. It's preposterous. It's stupid. It's impossible.

It's 100% true.

And you're 100% in denial.

You would never admit either of the above facts to anyone. Certainly not to John.

You are brought back from your thoughts when you realize that John has walked out of the kitchen. You begin to worry that you had actually offended him (which is also ridiculous because you never worry about offending people), and hurry after him. Unfortunately, John has already left the living room. You decided to look in his room and run upstairs.

"John?" you call softly, which is a dramatic change for you. "John? I'm sorry." You walk down the hallway and open the door to John's room. No one's in there, though. "I'm sorry. Honestly. Could you please come out?"

When there isn't a response, you begin to panic. You have an annoying tendency to worry when your cru- friends go missing, and because the horror film is still fresh in your think pan, you are in full-out panic mode. You run back into the hallway, frantically crying John's name. You race down the stairs and start searching the living room. When you don't find anything, you go to the kitchen and look there.

You are about to go back upstairs when all the lights go out. It takes all of your self-control to resist the urge to scream. Your vascular pump begins to beat so fast you're sure Strider would have difficulty keeping up, and your blood is pounding in your ears. You feel someone grab your arm, and you can't help it; you scream. You jerk yourself out of the person's grasp and proceed to backpedal so fast you fall over the couch.

Then you hear laughter. Not the insane 'I'm-going-to-kill-you' laugh, but a goofy 'I-just-pulled-off-the-best-prank-in-the-world' laugh. The lights turn back on, and you see John grinning at you like an idiot.

"Hahaha. You should see your face, Karkat!" John exclaims gleefully.

You want to throttle John, and you jump off of the couch. "YOU FUCKING IDIOT! WHAT BRILLIANT DEITY BLESSED YOU WITH THAT AMAZINGLY STUPID PLAN? YOU SCARED ME SHITLESS! FIRST YOU DISAPPEAR AND I START PANICKING AND THEN YOU WENT AND TURNED OF THE LIGHTS! I'M SURPRISED YOU DIDN'T GIVE ME A VASCULAR PUMP ATTACK! IT'S A MIRACLE YOU HAVEN'T CHOKED ON YOUR OWN STUPIDITY YET!"

John quirks his head to the side. "Are you done yet?"

You nearly tear your hair out in frustration. "WHAT KIND OF SHITTY QUESTION IS THAT? I WAS FUCKING WORRIED ABOUT YOU, SHIT HEAD! AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO ASK 'ARE YOU DONE YET'? NO, I'M NOT FUCKING DONE YET! I WILL NOT BE DONE UNTIL YOU UNDERSTAND EXCATLY HOW GOG-DAMN TERRIFIED I WAS! I WAS WORRIED THAT YOU WERE DEAD, YOU FUCKASS! I THOUGHT SOMEONE HAD MURDERED YOU OR SOMETHING!"

"Karkat, calm down," John begins.

"CALM DOWN?! WHAT PART OF 'I THOUGHT YOU DIED' DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!" Your voice is hoarse from screeching, and you realize you're crying.

"Oh Karkat, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you cry!" John wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug.

You have to make a conscious effort to stop yourself from sobbing your eyes out. A bit too late for that, but a guy can try. You don't try very hard; you're so upset and angry and worried that you can't help but start sobbing. Thankfully it's not gross maudlin sobbing, but it's pretty damn close.

You feel John's hand moving up and down your back as he whispers comfortingly to you. "Shh. Shh. It's fine; I'm fine. Everything is fine."

"Don't you fucking ever do that again," you hiss, your voice a rough whisper.

"I won't; I promise," John assures you, which calms you down slightly.

Eventually, you stop crying. At some point during your sob-fest, you and John have migrated to the couch, and you're sitting in his lap; you're practically cuddling. You should have reservations about sitting in his lap, but you don't. You're still too upset to have proper reactions to things. You sit in John's lap with your arms around his neck and your head in his shirt, shivering like a fucking leaf.

"Are you still upset?" John sounds like he's trying to cheer you up by making a lame joke (how the hell is that a joke?), but after realizing it doesn't work, he apologizes. "Sorry. That was bad."

"No shit," you mutter, your voice wavering.

Silence returns, aside from your little occasional sniffles.

"I am really sorry." John shifts underneath you. "I didn't realize you would freak out so much. I was just really irritated by what you said. I was trying to help you, and I thought…" John drifts off, and you're glad he doesn't finish because you don't want to know what he was going to say.

"I'm sorry," you mutter into John's shoulder.

"Why are you apologizing?" John inquires

"What I said was rude," you say quietly.

"Since when did you care about offending people?" he asks.

"Because it pissed you off enough to make you do that," you answer, unconsciously tightening your grip on John. "Why did you get mad anyway? I've said worse things to you." You want to apologize for that as well, but it would seem even more suspicious than your current odd behavior.

"I thought…" John drifts off again.

You tell yourself that you don't want to know what John thought, but this is the second time he's said it, and you're getting curious. "You thought what?"

John pauses, and you feel his hand underneath your chin, lifting your head up and forcing you to look at him. You blink curiously, staring at John. His eyes are dark blue. You've always had a thing for human eyes; they're so colorful, especially since you've only seen yellow troll eyes. Eventually, a troll's blood color can be seen in their eyes, but you don't know any adult trolls. Human eyes are so vivid compared to the dull yellow color you're so accustomed to. Especially John's. They're so beautiful and blue, even behind his dorky square glasses.

Suddenly, he's kissing you. It's strangely cliché and romantic to such a stupid degree. It's awkward and weird and your inner romcom fan is screaming its ass off. John's lips are soft and cool, and they move smoothly against your mouth. When you think pan calms down slightly, you start kissing him back. You move your hands up to thread them through his soft black hair.

You manage to ignore John's three teeth pressing against your lips until you pull apart, panting for breath. John grins at you, and you smile back. "I'm feeling better now."