[Fine by Dave. There is fucking nothing platonic about this bro hug bump. Dave's giving as good as he gets and then some, tucking his head into Karkat's shoulder, sliding both hands up and down his back with a "shhhhh, shhh" before bundling him up tightly in his arms, practically hauling Karkat up into him as he leans against the door.]
There you are.
[And he was where, before? Whatever. Dave sighs across the side of Karkat's neck, content with how right it is to hold and be held by him.]
My turn to be right about stuff. [He nuzzles the space behind Karkat's ear, noses along the line between his hair and his skin.] You don't get to disagree with me because you're automatically wrong. Your response options are 'Yes, wise and learned brainmaster Dave,' or 'massive incoherent crying, but only because I'm too touched for words, not 'cause I'm sad.'
[Dammit. Why doesn't he have three arms. He doesn't want to let Karkat go, probably ever, so he settles for resting the gentle pressure of his cheek alongside Karkat's cheek, for loosening one arm (and not the other, Karkat's not going anywhere) to run his hand in a slow, rhythmic path between his shoulder blades.]
You appear to have acquired some humongous misconceptions about things, which I suppose could be partially my fault for not articulating them properly. But, I mean, you already know I'm fucking junk when it comes to this stuff, it's all new: being pale, hearing nice things expressed about my person without some kind of jokey twist, learning how to be...open and honest about stuff that hurts. [He rubs his cheek gently against Karkat's face. Sorry. He's sorry.] So maybe in conversation I've been focusing a lot on that, on all the newness, and slacking on some of the other fronts.
[He wants to look at Karkat while he says this, but Karkat is a mess and also is very warm and huggable, so Dave just squeezes him again, cuddles up close.]
I may not know what to do with--with affection besides stare helplessly like a tottering fawn into the headlights as it makes emotional Dave pancakes out of my heart's ass--[What?]--but, Jesus, dunkass. [He lets another breath sigh past Karkat's ear.] I grew up knowing John and Jade and Rose. I know what fucking good looks like.
[Softer, now.] ...It looks like you. You help people who never give anything back, and you're smart, and you listen, and, and you care...
[He trails off, momentarily overcome. Keeps holding Karkat. How does he not know how good, how precious, how immeasurably valuable he is, how important it is that he exists? Christ.]
I'll go on in a minute. But first, fuck you for implying I don't know what I'm doing here with you. You insult me, I'm insulted, gag on an entire carton of dicks.
[He doesn't sound insulted, not the way he hefts Karkat up against him like he's considering just gathering him straight into his lap, the way he rubs his nose into Karkat's shoulder again.]
That's, like, an egg carton, by the way. So twelve dicks. Eat twelve jumbo cage-free dicks, Karkat, I wouldn't have a moirail if it wasn't you.
[action]
There you are.
[And he was where, before? Whatever. Dave sighs across the side of Karkat's neck, content with how right it is to hold and be held by him.]
My turn to be right about stuff. [He nuzzles the space behind Karkat's ear, noses along the line between his hair and his skin.] You don't get to disagree with me because you're automatically wrong. Your response options are 'Yes, wise and learned brainmaster Dave,' or 'massive incoherent crying, but only because I'm too touched for words, not 'cause I'm sad.'
[Dammit. Why doesn't he have three arms. He doesn't want to let Karkat go, probably ever, so he settles for resting the gentle pressure of his cheek alongside Karkat's cheek, for loosening one arm (and not the other, Karkat's not going anywhere) to run his hand in a slow, rhythmic path between his shoulder blades.]
You appear to have acquired some humongous misconceptions about things, which I suppose could be partially my fault for not articulating them properly. But, I mean, you already know I'm fucking junk when it comes to this stuff, it's all new: being pale, hearing nice things expressed about my person without some kind of jokey twist, learning how to be...open and honest about stuff that hurts. [He rubs his cheek gently against Karkat's face. Sorry. He's sorry.] So maybe in conversation I've been focusing a lot on that, on all the newness, and slacking on some of the other fronts.
[He wants to look at Karkat while he says this, but Karkat is a mess and also is very warm and huggable, so Dave just squeezes him again, cuddles up close.]
I may not know what to do with--with affection besides stare helplessly like a tottering fawn into the headlights as it makes emotional Dave pancakes out of my heart's ass--[What?]--but, Jesus, dunkass. [He lets another breath sigh past Karkat's ear.] I grew up knowing John and Jade and Rose. I know what fucking good looks like.
[Softer, now.] ...It looks like you. You help people who never give anything back, and you're smart, and you listen, and, and you care...
[He trails off, momentarily overcome. Keeps holding Karkat. How does he not know how good, how precious, how immeasurably valuable he is, how important it is that he exists? Christ.]
I'll go on in a minute. But first, fuck you for implying I don't know what I'm doing here with you. You insult me, I'm insulted, gag on an entire carton of dicks.
[He doesn't sound insulted, not the way he hefts Karkat up against him like he's considering just gathering him straight into his lap, the way he rubs his nose into Karkat's shoulder again.]
That's, like, an egg carton, by the way. So twelve dicks. Eat twelve jumbo cage-free dicks, Karkat, I wouldn't have a moirail if it wasn't you.