[Without the last two words, Karkat's goofball delivery would have been a premium setup for some good old-fashioned ribbing. As it is, though, this dumb, corny-ass, fake-chill invitation for fucking waffles catches Dave in just the right spot to trip him up.

He realizes with sudden clarity that Karkat is the bumbling protagonist of this romcom, which makes him, irreversibly, the helplessly charmed girl next door.

Jesus. His chest shouldn't turn to mush over something this stupid. It's waffles. He shouldn't feel like the belle of the ball.]

What the fuck did I do to deserve you.

[He murmurs it into the bedsheets, basically inaudible. He shifts onto his side so he can see Karkat, lightly tugging the blankets around his shoulders.]

Hell fucking yes, Karkat, I want waffles. I want waffles for dinner, even. Breakfast dinner. We are making this happen.