[Hands on his face. Gentle scents. Music. Karkat covers his mouth with a gloved hand (why the fuck hasn't he taken those off), forces his eyes open just to remind himself that no, Gamzee is not here to jeer at him, then closes them again, listening with desperate focus. Dave's here. He's fine. Everything's fine. Sure he's inhabiting the body of the biggest douchebag to FUCKING EVER unironically assume he'd ever be welcome in their group, but Dave's here and Karkat is totally fucking fine.
... He's trying to be fine. He will be. Really. Just. Just give him a minute.
He listens—"listens" and tries to imagine he's, fuck, what, on a pile? Yes, sitting on a pile with Dave, their foreheads resting together, Dave's hands on his face, don't think about kissing him, don't think about kissing him, don't think about goddammit shit fuck, SITTING ON A PILE IN A TOTALLY INNOCENT, PALE WAY AND NOT INITIATING ANY SLOPPY INTERSPECIES MAKEOUTS OF ANY SORT.
Karkat slaps himself again.]
Dave, say "Gallade" again before I fucking lose it.
[Seriously. He's going to lose it. Any second now.]
action + psychic I/O
... He's trying to be fine. He will be. Really. Just. Just give him a minute.
He listens—"listens" and tries to imagine he's, fuck, what, on a pile? Yes, sitting on a pile with Dave, their foreheads resting together, Dave's hands on his face, don't think about kissing him, don't think about kissing him, don't think about goddammit shit fuck, SITTING ON A PILE IN A TOTALLY INNOCENT, PALE WAY AND NOT INITIATING ANY SLOPPY INTERSPECIES MAKEOUTS OF ANY SORT.
Karkat slaps himself again.]
Dave, say "Gallade" again before I fucking lose it.
[Seriously. He's going to lose it. Any second now.]