Terezi parks the scuttlebuggy in the yard and, despite wanting nothing more than to crawl home, she goes back and locks the fence. After the time the buggy escaped and ate Mrs. Pendleton's prize roses, she makes sure. It'll have to make do with their grass and a few daisies.
At least their yard is never overgrown. That's yet another technicality the Neighborhood Association can't make a case out of. And Terezi was being very generous in agreeing to keep the paint colors to approved (boring, flavorless) shades. The house fits in just fine!
Some days she maybe secretly wishes a tiny bit she didn't have to climb a rope to get home, but today she landed a miscreant in human jail to reflect on his crimes and she feels grimly victorious, enough to combat the fatigue.
"Hallo the den of iniquity! I'm home!" she yells when she makes it to the landing, after she has spat her briefcase's handle out of her mouth. (The serrated corner almost gets her in the foot.)
Her sharp hearing catches a startled hiss and hurried whispers, and a not very discreet "release him!" from what she is sure is a Pyrope-Striderian mouth. As she divests herself of her boots and tailored vest, she spars Crabdad back into his room, whose door mysteriously unlocked on her. She whaps him on his crabby nose before he can take a playful bite out of her arm and shoves her vest in the closet, and then she kicks him back all the way inside his room. Locked! Victorious.
Her mom sleeps curled up in a perfect little circle of chubby baby dragon, on a pillow that is damn well not at its place in the living room and which she suspects was moved with malice aforethought. She still pauses to pet Mom's little nose and settle her wings properly on her back anyways. Her mom is the cutest mom, and she will duel anyone who says otherwise, Nepeta included.
... But she has been delayed long enough, as she can tell when she hears through the door cloth being thrown on the floor and a mattress bouncing with sudden, slightly over the top enthusiasm.
When she bursts into the respiteblock Dave and Karkat are naked as the day they hatched (or burst out of some lady's vagina, she supposes), entangled on the concupiscent platform, gray and peach expanses of skin, messy liquorice and egg yolk hair, and matching -- bare -- cherry eyes.
"We, uh, we missed you."
Dave is on his back, watching her upside down, and he deadpans, "We missed you naked."
Karkat groans and tries to hide his face in the sheets, but he can't without pressing his chin to Dave's shoulder; they both blush a little more. Terezi's lips stretch into a long, long smile.
"Yeah," Karkat says without conviction. "There was a lot of. Naked."
Their laptops are still open; without even breathing deep she knows the black on white files will be Dave's movie script and Karkat's romance novel, cursors still blinking at the end of incomplete sentences, and the other windows will be Empire Of Warcraft Strikes Back Online.
She bets their star-paladins are at least seven levels higher than they were this morning, but that is neither here nor there.
She walks in, swoons theatrically onto the mattress beside them, upside down. They scramble to separate and sit up.
"We missed you very sexily," Dave says, as his hand inches toward her foot. Karkat leans over her face, peering at her with faint worry.
"Yeah, right. There was a lot of sexy things. Sex in general, too. There was that."
"But no worries, it never did take the edge off, alas and woe. He just ain't you, babe, all I can say." Dave makes barkbeast eyes at her up the length of her legs.
"Hey, you shut your mouth about my skills, taintbuffer."
Sometimes all that gets her to fight her way through the day is the thought of her two hivehusbands waiting, desperate for her, naked and pails out. Who would sate their lust and keep them in internet connections and MMPORG memberships if she didn't?
She sits up to allow Karkat to make a backrest of himself, and puts her feet in Dave's lap.
"Taintbuffer," she muses, slowly.
Because he knows her, Dave hurries to say, "I don't know what that is, came out of Karkat's demented imagination and even freakier mouth and you should totally ask him all about it."
Karkat goes dark cherry around the ears. Eyes crinkling, she purrs. He sighs. "Bluh. Don't say it." It's nice the way human(-ish) marriage has streamlined their discussions.
Nice, but she likes the way he squirms against her back when he goes flustered.
"Really, Karkat. Don't use words--"
"I said don't say it!"
"--you won't explain, that is--"
"I will dump you on the floor like last month's rancid socks, see if I don't!"
"--unfair and mean," she and Dave chorus.
His gruff growls rattle through his chest and into hers like a personal massager, and Dave's talented fingers are still pressing life back into the poor abused soles of her feet. When she moans for Dave -- only half for show -- Karkat sets his hands on her shoulders and half-heartedly threatens to strangle her even as he starts digging in.
"This is the life," she informs them. "This is why the Founding Fathers left the Motherland."
Dave nods wisely over her feet. "Yep. Polyandry and nubile househubbies for all good little suburbanites. That and cable TV."
Karkat snorts against her ear, and nips it with his teeth, only half annoyed.
A little more massage to relax her clenched muscles, she thinks, a little... taint buffing hands-on explanation, and then she will ravish them properly.
(She reminds herself to crack the window open so Mrs. Jenseny doesn't start believing her unsubtle attempts at poaching a dragon's mates from her have any chance of success, and so Mr. Levinburgh will laugh and throw his vote in her favor next Neighborhood Association backbiting session.)