[Dave's eyes widen when he gets it, then soften, and he looks away before they can start to tear up again or anything, sniffs a little bit. He manages his most normal voice possible.]
Just get under the covers already, dumpass. I'll be there in a second.
[He disappears from the gap, but doesn't let the door go. After a moment, the mussed fluff of his hair and the tip of his nose reappear, and he adds in a small, sincere voice:]
...Thank you.
[This time, he retreats for real.
Peeing happens and then pants--Wart picked pajamas for Dave, for which he is both grateful and oddly annoyed about, because it implies Wart doesn't think he's going to do anything else today but laze around in bed and shiver off the shakes, but also they're comfortable and warm--and pulls the long-sleeved tee on, too. He's probably going to overheat egregiously, but he doesn't care, he wants to be fucking unreachable through the strata of clothes and blankets. Clothes and blankets and Karkat. God, the dude doesn't deserve this carnival of utter shit.
By the time he comes out (it takes no time, Dave doesn't want to keep Karkat waiting, but also he washes his hands because he's not gross), he's worked his way far enough back up the emotional echeladder to recover shame in full. Even as he pads his way to the bed, he can't quite make eye contact. Still can't apologize, either. Dammit, why does Karkat have to be so...
So good. To him.
It isn't fair.
He stops beside the bed and doesn't know what to say. Why does Karkat even want to be tied to a comically shattered piece of shit like him?]
Do I have the right to say sorry back yet, or am I still in the unapologetic doghouse, banned from acknowledging my sweet, sweet shame.
action
Just get under the covers already, dumpass. I'll be there in a second.
[He disappears from the gap, but doesn't let the door go. After a moment, the mussed fluff of his hair and the tip of his nose reappear, and he adds in a small, sincere voice:]
...Thank you.
[This time, he retreats for real.
Peeing happens and then pants--Wart picked pajamas for Dave, for which he is both grateful and oddly annoyed about, because it implies Wart doesn't think he's going to do anything else today but laze around in bed and shiver off the shakes, but also they're comfortable and warm--and pulls the long-sleeved tee on, too. He's probably going to overheat egregiously, but he doesn't care, he wants to be fucking unreachable through the strata of clothes and blankets. Clothes and blankets and Karkat. God, the dude doesn't deserve this carnival of utter shit.
By the time he comes out (it takes no time, Dave doesn't want to keep Karkat waiting, but also he washes his hands because he's not gross), he's worked his way far enough back up the emotional echeladder to recover shame in full. Even as he pads his way to the bed, he can't quite make eye contact. Still can't apologize, either. Dammit, why does Karkat have to be so...
So good. To him.
It isn't fair.
He stops beside the bed and doesn't know what to say. Why does Karkat even want to be tied to a comically shattered piece of shit like him?]
Do I have the right to say sorry back yet, or am I still in the unapologetic doghouse, banned from acknowledging my sweet, sweet shame.