Bro makes a show of snorting, of relaxing his stance. His heart is still in his throat. His kids, his kids, someone almost took his kids. Someone did, and the only reason they didn't get away with it has nothing to do with him, nothing, and everything with that rabid weasel who won't. Step. Off. His balls. -- Pretty much as the title says.

Karkat takes his time; this trick he has learned from several drill sergeants and then from being a drill sergeant, and learned well. When you're not sure what the fuck to do with a subordinate, take your time thinking it out. There is almost no way they will notice you're completely lost at sea: they'll be too busy freaking out. It's a technique he could have used more of when he was a kid. He really has no idea what to do with the guy. -- Sequel to Uniform Kink, a pesterlog/cybersex fic in which Karkat accidentally gets Equius hot under the collar with mentions of the uniform that comes with his promotion, and then decides to run with it. -- Now with Equius POV epilogue! 2000% more fluff.

Sid had been simmering all day and now he was ebullient, a full boil, about to spill over. set after the October 12th, 2013 Lightning game