[His eyes flutter closed again for a moment as Karkat reaches up, but the reaction this time is only a soft, exhaled breath. The attention's still got a lump in his throat, but patience will get Karkat everywhere, apparently. Dave's calming down. He opens his eyes again to catch the smile, and if something flips a little funny in his chest, if his cheeks stay warm, it's also true that his own eyes crinkle in return, the shy start of a smile usually hidden by his shades.]
Mmhm.
[The things Karkat's saying don't strike him as things he needs to answer. He does like the blanket, and he is used to lava. If any Pokémon wants his blanket, they're going to have to pry it handily off his body, probably, so it's kind of a silly thing to warn him about. But he's got a notion, maybe, that that's the point.
It doesn't escape his notice that everything coming out of Karkat's mouth, even if it's more natural, more casual than 'I'm pale for you,' it's all still concern about Dave. What he likes, what he's comfortable with.
Jesus. Gamzee was a motherfucking idiot, and he can't have Karkat back. Not ever, not in any quadrant, not in any timeline. Dave will make sure little smiles like that, that they stay. That someone protects Karkat Vantas's happiness.
He rubs his thumb along the side of Karkat's hand, then unweaves their fingers so he can explore the topography of his skin again. He traces lightly over the metacarpals beneath the surface with the pad of his thumb, follows them down to loosely circle his wrist for a moment, to run his thumb again over the bump where the arm bones start. Like he can memorize how Karkat feels different from him by touch, like Dave can map him without having to see.
Dave still can't maintain eye contact for too long without blushing like a schoolgirl, but he's trying, now. It's less cornered animal and more timid, hopeful uncertainty.]
What else do we...do moirails do. [The word still feels strange in his mouth, but it's not unpleasant. Just weird to pronounce.] There's piles, right? What're those for.
no subject
Mmhm.
[The things Karkat's saying don't strike him as things he needs to answer. He does like the blanket, and he is used to lava. If any Pokémon wants his blanket, they're going to have to pry it handily off his body, probably, so it's kind of a silly thing to warn him about. But he's got a notion, maybe, that that's the point.
It doesn't escape his notice that everything coming out of Karkat's mouth, even if it's more natural, more casual than 'I'm pale for you,' it's all still concern about Dave. What he likes, what he's comfortable with.
Jesus. Gamzee was a motherfucking idiot, and he can't have Karkat back. Not ever, not in any quadrant, not in any timeline. Dave will make sure little smiles like that, that they stay. That someone protects Karkat Vantas's happiness.
He rubs his thumb along the side of Karkat's hand, then unweaves their fingers so he can explore the topography of his skin again. He traces lightly over the metacarpals beneath the surface with the pad of his thumb, follows them down to loosely circle his wrist for a moment, to run his thumb again over the bump where the arm bones start. Like he can memorize how Karkat feels different from him by touch, like Dave can map him without having to see.
Dave still can't maintain eye contact for too long without blushing like a schoolgirl, but he's trying, now. It's less cornered animal and more timid, hopeful uncertainty.]
What else do we...do moirails do. [The word still feels strange in his mouth, but it's not unpleasant. Just weird to pronounce.] There's piles, right? What're those for.