[Not for lack of trying, but at the moment, biting Dave and/or his garments is the furthest thing from Karkat's mind. God, just—how had he dismissed that so easily? Not that Karkat's complaining or even disagreeing with Dave's assessment, but obviously their issues with all these goddamn emotions are completely different no matter how similar they seem on the surface. He doesn't understand how his moirail is being this patient with him. It doesn't make sense.

Countering any of the points raised is beyond him, though; between all the shooshing and holy fuck what even was that touch on his neck, Karkat's melting into a complacent puddle of goo again, hug returned with absolutely zero evidence of actual thought on his part. Humans shouldn't be so good at this, they don't even do quadrants. Either something's seriously amiss, his feelings for Dave are completely clouding his judgment, or Dave is secretly some kind of diamond savant.

Or, in his words, a "palequad Casanova." If humans had adult titles, that would be his adult title.

... Yeah. Wow. Fuck no.

Snorting quietly under his breath, Karkat gives Dave an uncoordinated nuzzle and lets his head thunk against his moirail's collarbone. Damn him for being so tall anyway.]

Pale for you. Same thing.

[Sort of, anyway. More quadrant lectures can wait; he's not eager to revisit that subject in a hurry. He'll do it later, assuming they're both feeling less emotionally compromised.

And... even if all of this has been sentimental enough for any and every romcom Karkat has ever seen, he has to add one thing more.]

I believe you, I think. You're still a fucking moron for agreeing to this, but I'm glad you did.

[All the romcoms. All of them.]