callbacks: SLEEPY0WL (o rly)
dave mamahecking strider ([personal profile] callbacks) wrote 2016-04-06 01:13 am (UTC)

[action]

Mmm.

[He hums it right into Karkat's hair. It occurs to Dave that it's really good he's already sitting down, because he's not even trying to do anything and yet his legs still feel like bean paste. Between everything this, what, ten minutes or so has been, between having to stare The Bro Shit right in the douchey shades and the tide of relief at getting Karkat to stay, he can feel the tension almost literally draining out of him. He has enough energy for an idle thought--how is he going to stand back up?--but it doesn't super matter, and he just concentrates on the steady weight of Karkat against his chest and times his own heartbeat. One two three. One two three. One two. One two.]

Apology unnecessary on the first count, but accepted on the second. [A beat.] You can get me one of those fat, face-sized waffles for breakfast if it's gonna keep bothering you, I guess.

[The soul of magnanimity, it is him. He rubs his cheekbone somewhere above Karkat's temple and breathes out.]

I--I'm sorry for stopping you, too. Not because I think you should have gone, because do you see yourself right now, no, of course not. [He moves his hand from Karkat's neck to sling both arms around him again, cuddle him close. Careful, careful.] But it felt like trapping you, and that's. I don't know, it just feels grody. So. Sorry.

[Karkat actually smells kind of nice.

Maybe his nose has Stockholm Syndrome.]


You know it's okay, right? To need stuff back from me. Like, frankly, I don't know how else it'd be supposed to work, anyway.

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