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Description
So here you are, playing DDR, with your cat ears twitching and your tail brushing your bare legs as you jumped around on the soft plastic mat. You aren’t very good, it’s true. But perhaps some practice would give you an edge? And besides, what else do you have to do on a lazy, freezing winter day?

“Hey, (y/n!)”

You squeal and lose your concentration, making the flurry of arrows rush past your cute, dancing anime avatar. The announcer boos you as you turn around, glancing past the closed (or so you thought) window. The cold air blows briskly through the opening, and outside you see your friend-who-happens-to-be-a-troll, Sollux Captor, and his crooked yellow tombstone teeth grinning.

“Sollux, you threw off my groove!” you complain as a steel wall slams down on the screen and a fat, capital D appears alongside your sulking avatar. The announcer moans off-screen. “Go back to dance school!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Sollux mutters in his terrible lisp that makes it hard for you to understand even his simple sentences. But he’s smiling. He lets himself in through the sliding glass door, leans his tall body over to close the window, and announces, “So what’s up?”

“I was playing DDR,” you complain.

Sollux grins for real this time. “Ah, that shitty old game. What memories.” He briefly glances with disinterest at the tv screen. “Can I have some hot cocoa?”

“No,” you say mischievously, “There’s only one packet left, and it’s mine.”

The troll reaches over and scratches your (h/c) ears, making a pleasant tingle go through you. You purr slightly, leaning into his chest.

“All right, fine,” you mutter. “It’s yours, just give me a backrub, too.”

“Much obliged.” Sollux nudges you onto the couch and starts running his hands down your spine. Thankfully, he’s not being a horny freak today. Which is good, because frankly, it’s too cold to do any damn thing, even with the heater on.

Trolls are strong--sometimes a little too strong. Sollux is stringy, but his hands still hurt your tense shoulders, and you complain a bit before you two reach the right equilibrium.

So maybe “friend” isn’t the right word for your relationship, exactly. But things are a little, uh, complicated, because--

“Captor! Get the hell off (y/n)!”

Right. Because there’s him.

You’re not going to lie, your heart skips a beat when you hear the growling voice through the window. If Sollux is closer to what the trolls would call a “moirail-with-benefits”, Karkat Vantas is definitely your flush crush.

Karkat turns and opens the door, slamming it shut with his trademark petulant scowl. “You’re her shitfucking moirail, for god’s sake. Why on this dirt-ass earth are you assaulting her like that?” He turns to you with a sense of comedic urgency. “(y/n), Captor’s not touching you with his grubfucking fingers willingly, is he?”

“Oh, shut up, Karkat,” you say easily, leaning back luxuriously into Sollux’s arms. His gray hands move up to rub the edges of your shoulders. “You’re welcome to join in. We can have a pale massage party.”

“More like red as Rudolph the Earth-ungulate’s retarded proboscis,” he spits back, but you notice the tips of his fawn-like ears have grown the according color as well. “Don’t think I can’t tell you’re flirting with me in the flushed quadrant, (y/n). I’m not stupid.” He rolls his eyes at Sollux and adds disdainfully, “Unlike this loser here.”

“Keep your nubby fucking horns out of my think pan, KK!” Sollux complains. “Just because your quadrants are twice as bad as mine--”

As they continue to bicker, you realize your cheeks have grown warm. Karkat openly acknowledged your flush crush on him, and he never did deny that massage party offer.

As the troll males face towards each other, Karkat now on the couch, you lean forward and rub his neck a little. Your hands are cold, and he spits a startled exclamation, while you chuckle mischiviously.

Massage time!