Ah, yes. Almost there. The musk of anger is thick in the air, and not just any anger. Karkat's anger. His anger has a certain smell. It's special. And tasty... Which is a good thing. You have to be around the poor troll all day.
He caught himself in that stupid ankle noose of yours. You knew it would cause trouble. Soon enough the smell gets stronger and stronger. “KARKAT!” You shout. “Ow.” Says a voice from a few feet away. You turn your head towards it. “Thanks for yelling in my ear. Like this rain hasn't killed my sponge clots enough.” You roll your eyes and sniff around, finding his sickle and quickly using it to cut the rope clean off of his ankle.
“There.” You hand it to him. And the rain starts to get heavier. You're both drenched. He slides his sickle into his sheath. “Well. The hive is that way.” He points forward. “Shortcut?” You nod and grin. “Shortcut.”
You both make a beeline for the hive. And soon find yourself in a race. Dodging trees, and eventually you burst out of the thinning underbrush, and into the clearing. You wait for about one more minute and Karkat tumbles after you. “I win!” You taunt a little. “Yeah yeah let's just get in the god damn hive.”
Both of you walk over to the rope and grab on tight, placing your feet on the knotted end. You tug down on the rope and it start to pull itself up into the tree. And soon, both of you are inside the hive. You smile. “Well that was a fun little ordeal.” You snicker. “Yes fun as hell now lets just get dry or something.” He walks further into the hive, and you walk into your room. You throw your sopping wet clothes on the chalk covered floor and change into your pajamas. They're not wet from Sopor slime anymore.
You sit on the loveseat in your living room and close your eyes. Karkat makes his way over to the love seat as well. Guess he forgot a dry sweater before coming over, you only smell dry pants.
Both of you sit on the loveseat by the window. You're smelling the wonderful scents that waft from the storm outside the window. Soon, you're leaning on him and your head is in the crook of his shoulder. He has an arm around you and sighs, letting his head rest on yours. Both of you are holding hands, and just enjoying the silence. With the occasional rumble of thunder and flash of sour yellow lightning ripping through the sky.
You are having trouble keeping your eyes open. And after a while you let them flutter closed. He lifts his warm head off of yours and leans his head down, planting his lips gingerly on yours. They're nice and warm compared to your near ice cold ones. Guess you ate too many little balls of hail on the way. But both of you smile, and squeeze each others hand. He traces his fingers across your cheekbone and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you grab his wrist with your other hand and smile, laughing a little bit. He does too, and then you pull away, resuming your previous positions.
There's a familiar tang in the air, one that you have kept close to you. Red, Candy Cherry Red.
You turn your head and touch your still cold lips onto his neck, and keep it that way. You're just close enough to taste it beneath his concrete gray skin. The red. It's coming from him. And you can't complain. It's the tastiest of colors after all.
And you both sit there, until you fall asleep, and the storm passes.
