Kankri’s jarred from his sleep by the light flicking on, and he sits up in a flash.
“Can I lay with you?” There is no need for Kankri to figure out who the voice belongs to. There wasn’t much of a need for him to even ask, either, except the formality of adhering to the role of younger brother.
He has work tomorrow. He can’t very well be entertaining Karkat’s whims at every hour of the night, as much as that fact pains him. If it were up to him, the world outside might stop spinning, the sun stop rising and setting, just for another few hours holding the only one whom he shares his life with.
“I had that nightmare again,” Karkat grumbles under his breath, when he realizes he’s not being immediately invited under the covers. He’s not just whispering because it’s the middle of the night, either; he’s embarrassed, a reminder of his weakness that he has to come into his older brother’s room at night. Kankri’s heart softens, melts. He loves Karkat. He would do anything for Karkat.
He still has to correct misbehavior when he sees it, however.
“Well, Karkat, I find it quite inconsiderate that you walked in here and just flipped the light on - what if I were having my own nightmare and you scared me further rather than waking me? Or if I had some big event tomorrow that I needed to be well rested for? What if I had developed epilepsy in the night, and the light broke, strobed, and I started having a seizure?” Okay, that one’s a stretch even for him, but not all improvised lectures can be winners. “I may not get back to sleep for another hour, not after this. Besides, I do have work in the morning, and you know I can’t be late again. Ms. Dolorosa is already suspicious of me,” he says, voice and eyebrow rising accusatorily with that phrase. However, everyone knows he wouldn’t keep Karkat away. The edge of the blanket is lifted up and the spot it was covering is immediately taken by Karkat.
He’s even shorter, even thinner, than Kankri is, somehow, and sleeps shirtless like all the Vantas men. The prominence of his rib cage as each individual bone presses against his abdomen worries Kankri - Karkat can’t eat when he’s stressed. He’s always stressed. Kankri wants to spoon feed him, to care for him, make sure he’s well. He’s been bringing home candy bars to keep him somewhat nourished, just little things he’s nicked from the shop when Ms. Dolorosa isn’t looking. But the stress of constant moves has been taking its toll on young Karkat; how father hasn’t seen this himself is concerning. It’s not right to force a young boy to do that. Kankri was able to get through it fine, all his trauma repressed and channeled, but Karkat? Karkat wears his on his body.
It takes a moment for Karkat to get comfortable. He wiggles around and the blanket twists on top of him. The side that was previously covering Kankri has now left his foot exposed and cold; he doesn’t pull it back. When Karkat finally finds the position he wants to stay in, he lays stiff as a board, still as the dead.
Kankri curls his arms around Karkat’s body. His chest is warm where Karkat’s is pressed up against it, his younger brother’s soft head of hair right in the crook of his neck. It tickles his lips, his nose, and Kankri breathes in his brother’s scent deep. He’s always calmer than anywhere else, when they’re together this way. Nothing in his head begging him to speak, to preach, to correct everyone’s mistakes with the fervor his father can only muster whilst on the pulpit. With Karkat, he’s learned to be quiet. Both inside and out.
He rubs his chin on Karkat’s head, and Karkat hums sleepily in response. It’s never been a question why Karkat comes to him instead of mother or father when he’s upset. As much as the two of them argue, Kankri knows what Karkat needs. He’s always been there for him, since his birth in that forgotten barn, and will be until he can’t any longer.
Kankri doesn’t know if Karkat cares for him as much as he cares for Karkat, but it’s nice to think about. With all the vitriol Karkat spews at him all day, all the times he says to shut up, he still shows up and asks Kankri his opinion. He still wants to sit together on every plane, even if only to argue. He still defends Kankri’s honor any time someone else wants to insult him.
He still comes in for brotherly comfort when he has a bad dream.
Karkat’s chest moves as he breathes. His skin is soft and tangible; their matched heartbeats a symbol of the connection between them. They’ve moved around so much in their life, dragged along with mom and dad on their missions, but they’ve always been together. When he came home from school crying because no one would sit with the new kid at lunch? Kankri was there to hold him, to wipe his tears. When Kankri couldn’t join the debate team because dad wasn’t sure if they’d be staying in town long enough to allow him? Karkat argued with him all night about anything he brought up. It was infuriating and endearing in equal parts. Just like everything about Karkat.
Kankri finds himself falling back asleep much quicker than he thought he would. Karkat’s breaths are deep, slow, relaxing. His overgrown head of hair makes a soft place to rest his cheek, the curve of his body holds Kankri’s arm at the perfect level. It was like they were made to each other’s measurements. The serenity Kankri feels when he can protect and hold Karkat, his brother that no one else cares for the way he cares for him.
He drifts off, a smile creeping onto his usually stern face.